Month of December

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are invisible to those who seek you, by the providence you know yourself, who fashioned our hearts alone. Look down from your holy height, O Lord, upon this people standing around, and lead them by the light of your knowledge. Grant also to those who, through me, call upon your holy name, those petitions which are beneficial to them, so that in all things your mighty works may be praised, now and forever. Having prayed thus, she urged the soldiers to do what had been commanded. One of them, drawing his ^A sword, severed her blessed head on the twenty-fifth day of the month of November.

Yet God works a miracle here too, honoring his martyr and bringing her prayers to fulfillment; for those present saw milk flowing instead of blood, and angels, having composed her ^B venerable body at the very moment of her consummation, were seen conveying it to Mount Sinai, to the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, who are one Divinity and kingdom: to whom honor and power are due, now and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

MENSIS DECEMBER.

THE CONTEST OF THE HOLY, GLORIOUS, AND TRIUMPHANT GREAT MARTYR OF CHRIST, BARBARA

^C 1. To the impious Emperor Maximian, who applied himself with such great zeal to the error of idols, this was his greatest and most constant care: to worship demons and to confirm impiety with all his resources and strength, while those who worshipped the divine name of Christ were either to abjure this pious faith or, handed over to various tortures, were to be violently deprived of their lives along with all their possessions. Now there was a certain region, which is called Heliopolis, that had a man of distinct

^A rank, a Gentile by religion, but very wealthy and most illustrious in worldly splendor. This man was called Dioscorus, and he was known to be the father of a single girl, Barbara by name. His love for her was such as it should be for one in whom alone he had anchored all his hopes. Wishing to preserve her—since she was very beautiful in face and of extraordinary pulchritude—intact and unstained by any fault, and for this reason not even allowing her to be seen by those who were outside, he constructed a high tower and, having artistically fashioned a dwelling within it, placed Barbara there to reside, so that she might be inaccessible and untouchable by the eyes of any men. But this was the work of divine providence, which long before was considering the future; for in her the grace of the Paraclete secretly touched her hidden eyes and enlightened them with the light of divine knowledge, and made the true God known to her in a miraculous way. The tower, therefore, held a virgin who was already built upon the foundation of faith and was being preserved ^B for the salvation of many.

II. But when the beautiful maiden was of marriageable age, there was great anxiety for her father as to who would take her as his wife. Many men, distinguished by birth and wealth, came to him to discuss a marriage alliance. For her beauty, even if not seen, was known by report, and made her marriage a matter of intense competition. However, it seemed to the father to be unseemly and clearly base if that which he was pursuing with great zeal should not be known to his daughter, and if she should not be a partner in his purpose. Thus, approaching her, he communicated with her concerning the marriage, and signified with what zeal and care he desired to provide for her. But she, not wanting to admit the matter even into the outer reaches of her ears, much less her heart, but having rejected it as something discordant and absurd, repelled her father with anger, saying, "See that you do not mention this matter to me again! For you shall no longer be called father, and you will cause me to lay hands upon myself." The father, judging it far more honorable to persuade than to compel, and considering her resistance not to be stubbornness or disobedience, but a vehement desire for chastity—and furthermore granting her time for deliberation, hoping that perhaps she might change and yield to him—said nothing more. He immediately descended from the tower and went to the bath which he happened to be building, occupying himself entirely with it. Urging on the construction, he brought a great multitude of workmen, and having given orders as to how they should execute the building and having provided them with full payment, he himself departed to a faraway region. ^C

III. While he was lingering for a long time in that journey, the servant of God, Barbara, descended from the tower to see how the bath was being made. Then, when she had been there and had contemplated the part which faces the south, she saw that it had two windows that provided light, and she rebuked the workmen, saying, "For what reason, because of the two windows, have you not added a third, ^D

^A so that thus there might be more light together with more dignity?" But when they said, "It was ordained by your father," Barbara insisted that they add a second one for them. And when they were hesitant about the addition, putting forward the fear of her father as a plausible excuse, the blessed one, showing the three all at once with her fingers, said, "You must construct three windows." If the father is vexed about this, I myself will render an account. The workmen yielded and fulfilled the order. ^B Now when the entire decoration of the bathing place was finished, the holy one, coming frequently to view it—since her heart was possessed by the grace of the good Spirit and was filled with confidence in Christ through faith—stood by the pool, and looking toward the east, etched into the marbles within it the figure of the cross with her finger. And in order that this which happened might be known to those who came after, and the power of Christ might be preached, the figure of the cross marked by her finger, as if engraved by iron, is shown marked in the marble to this very day, drawing those who see it not only to wonder but to a greater faith. Moreover, this bath is preserved to this day, becoming a healing for every infirmity for those who love Christ; if anyone were to compare it with the flowing streams of Jordan, or the fountain of Siloam, or even the Probatica pool, he would not wander from the truth. For through it, even so, the power of Christ is shown causing many ^C wonderful things. For the martyr, passing through this bath, once directed her gaze at the idols which were honored by her father and were falsely considered to be gods; she bore their sight with distaste, and venting heavy sighs for the sake of the soul of him who worshipped them—which was entirely bereft of sense—she then spat upon their faces, saying, "May those who worship you become like you, and all those who require help from you." Having said this, she returned to the tower again and busied herself with prayers and fastings, and attached her whole self to the heavenly goods.

IV. Not much time passed, and the father, having already returned and inspecting everything in the house, when he also cast his eyes upon the bath, ^D and seeing that a third window had been fashioned in addition to the two, inquired how this had happened contrary to his command. And when they relayed the innovation to the daughter, he summoned her and questioned her. She, however, did not deny it, but asserted that it should have been done that way, and that it was rightly done. Then he, immediately moved to anger, said, "Tell me, how and by what reasoning is it better thus?" She answered, "Insofar as three differ greatly from two. For the three," she said, "windows illuminate every man coming into this world." This she said entirely because of the holy Tri-

-^Anity, manifesting its majesty. Then the father, troubled and clearly astonished by the strangeness and novelty of the words, took her aside and, having come to the very pool of the bath, asked: "How," said he, "does the light of three windows illuminate every man?"

She replied: "Pay attention, Father, and you will understand what has been said." And at the same time, she showed him the holy sign of the cross, and then pointing with her fingers, said: "The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; by this light every created nature is intellectually illuminated." Hearing this true discourse, ears trained in evil and practiced in falsehood could not bear it, and were filled with rage. And the father, forgetting that he was a father, turned into a tyrant and murderer; drawing the sword that hung at his side, he attempted to kill Barbara with his own hand.

But she, lifting her hands, eyes, and mind at once to heaven, called to her aid Him who has the power to grant salvation. And He truly did not neglect to do what He is wont to do; but just as He saved Thecla, the protomartyr, from those who were pursuing her, by commanding the rock that she encountered to split open and, by his mandate, to receive her into its bosom, so too did He preserve this glorious one through a similar miracle. For when that executioner (for it is not right to call a father one who commits such a parricide) proceeded against his daughter with sword uplifted, the rock was split in two parts, received her by a divine and omnipotent nod, and preserved her, unreachable by murderous hands, by sending her on to more mountainous places.

But not even then could he understand, being more unfeeling than the very stones and less endowed with sense. For he was still incited by the same impulse and desired to seize his daughter; not as one who was her father, but rather as her who was a son of the murderer who was a homicide from the beginning ^B (to speak with divine Scripture), so that when he found her, he might simultaneously slaughter and destroy her.

V. Having encountered two shepherds, he asked if they knew anything about her. Of these, the one who was merciful in spirit, and to whom it was displeasing to betray her whom the father was pursuing, immediately denied it and pretended ignorance, choosing a salutary lie over a harmful truth. But let Herod, who did not rightly keep his oath—to insert something into the narrative—and who persisted in an oath in order to defend an evil pleasure, be openly put to shame here. The other shepherd, however, by no means with his tongue, but more wickedly with his finger, pointed out and indicated the path that led to her. Justice did not endure what had been done, but immediately brought upon him the punishment for his crime; and when the martyr had cursed his flocks, they were no longer sheep, but were changed into beetles which, for the perpetual accusation of his crime, constantly fly around the tomb of Saint Barbara. Dioscorus, out of his mind, followed in the footsteps of the deceitful shepherd, and when he had caught the holy one on the mountain, first of all, just as he was, goaded by rage, he tore at her with words; then ^C

dragging her by force, he shut her up in a small house, set guards over her, and sealed the door securely. ^A Afterwards, he arrived with great speed before the governor Marcian, having gone there to govern the office he held at that time, and reported to him the whole matter. The sum of it was that his daughter had denied the gods, and had chosen to honor the Christian faith against all expectation. He said these things, and he led her away and handed her over into the hands of the governor, having first bound him by oaths to his own gods that he would not spare his daughter—oh, the paternal affection! oh, the father!—but rather treat her most violently, and consume her with the most cruel torments.

^B VI. Marcian therefore, having at once taken his seat for judgment and having had the holy one brought before him, beholding the modesty of her character and the extreme beauty of her form, forgetting the oaths of the father, was prepared to marvel rather than to punish. He thus used milder words: "Have pity on yourself," he said, "O Barbara, and with a ready and eager spirit, sacrifice to the gods along with us. For I truly care for you, and I am loath to subject such beauty to such torments. But if you will not be persuaded, you will force me hereafter to treat you as I do not wish." The martyr said: "I offer a sacrifice of praise to my God, who created heaven and earth and all things that are in them. But concerning your vain gods," she said, "it has been prophesied in the Holy Spirit by David: 'The idols of the nations are silver and gold, the works of the hands of men,' ^C and 'All the gods of the nations are demons; but the Lord made the heavens.' I also agree, and I openly confess that the hope which is in them is empty and vain."

When the martyr had spoken these things, the judge, kindled with anger, commanded that she be stripped, and cruelly beaten with ox-hide scourges. Then, wishing to inflict upon her a sharper sensation, he ordered the wounds to be rubbed with haircloth. So, as she was being inhumanly tortured in this way, deep fountains of her body were opened, so that the whole floor was sprinkled with the blood of the virgin. Then, after the scourging, the prison received her, while the governor was occupied in deliberation as to which punishment he should afterwards consign the martyr to.

^D VII. But when it was already midnight, a light shone upon her from above, and Christ appeared, who imparted courage to her and urged her in no way to fear the evils of men. "For I am with you," he said, "and you shall be guarded under the shadow of my wings." The words which were spoken to the martyr had no sooner ended, and that which was said by Isaiah was fulfilled in her; for healings quickly sprang up for her, and the wounds were driven from her body as if they had never been from the beginning. Joy and exultation took possession of the holy one, and eternal gladness was upon her head, to use the words of Isaiah again. A certain woman, pious and fearing the Lord, Juliana by name, being then with the martyr, since some

^A spectator of the wonders wrought upon her, and how the wounds immediately vanished, gave glory to God and, sharing the mind of the martyr like a sister, prepared herself for blows and scourges.

Then, when the governor had sat for the second examination, and the saint was brought before him, and being a fearful sight to all—since not even the slightest laceration or even a single bruise was evident on her body—the judge, alas! being openly blind to the truth, leaving aside the ascribing of what had happened to the great power of God, and of taking repentance for his former life and error, instead cast off all shame and impudently attributed the recovery to his own gods, and said: “Do you see, Barbara, how the gods protect you and take care of you, they who have healed your wounds?” To whom the martyr of Christ said: “They who are blind like you, and in need of a human hand for the purpose of being led around, how indeed could they do such a thing? But if you wish to know who it is that healed me, it is Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, whom it is impossible for you to gaze upon, since you are blinded in the eyes of your soul by the deep darkness of impiety.”

^B VIII. At these words the governor, kindled to greater anger and not being able to contain himself, ordered those standing by to rend the sides of the virgin with iron combs, and furthermore to burn the parts already lacerated with torches of fire, and then also to strike her venerable head with a mallet. While these things were being done as quickly as possible, the pious Juliana, seeing it and suffering strongly in her soul, since she could not help, did what she was able and showed the affection she felt, caring nothing for those who were present or for the governor, but shedding abundant tears from her eyes. ^C Marcianus, therefore, having looked at her and having learned who she was, and since he heard that she also was a Christian and that she was moved in her soul with sympathy for Barbara, he ordered her to be seized, and to be suspended from a wooden beam, and like the martyr, to have her sides torn with iron scrapers.

The much-suffering Barbara, being cruelly scraped, lifted her eyes on high and said: “You know, O God, knower of hearts, that desiring you and loving your laws, I have offered my whole self to you, and on your right hand I hang. Therefore, O Master, do not abandon us, but take hold of us according to your mercy, and strengthen both of us to complete the present race.” ^D But thus the martyr of Christ asked the Master for whom she endured these things, seeking for natural weakness to be strengthened by his help. For she knew who it was who truthfully said: “The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

IX. The tyrant, however, as one who had set himself entirely as an adversary to her, that he might overcome the fortitude of her soul with a multitude of torments, turns at once to another

^A wickedness, and commands that their breasts be cut off with a scalpel. I know that you have grown faint at the mere hearing of so great a suffering. What then would the act of suffering itself have done, and that to women, had not the insurmountable love of Christ and faith fortified their souls? But since even this, the remedy against such a sharp and intense pain, was by no means hidden from Christ’s handmaid, Barbara, for this reason she again called for help from on high, saying: “Do not turn your face from us, O Christ, and do not take your most holy Spirit from me. Restore to me, O Lord, the joy of your salvation, and confirm me with your guiding Spirit in your fear.” ^B And since there was one and the same mind and constancy in both of them regarding this punishment, the governor, having thought of something wiser—or rather, more malicious—separates them from one another; he commands Juliana to be handed over to custody, and Barbara, strip-ped naked, to be led in triumph throughout the region, and furthermore to be scourged with lashes. The martyr, therefore, being made a spectacle in this shameful circuit, did as she was accustomed, and looking up to heaven, she said: “O King, who wrap the heaven with clouds and swaddle the earth in mist, cover also my nakedness and grant that my limbs may be made invisible to the eyes of the impious, so that I, your handmaid, O Christ, may not become a target for mockery and derision by those who surround us.” The swift God heard her from His holy temple for her deliverance, ^C and appearing immediately, He not only fills her heart with joy, but invests her with an invisible garment. And thus, having completed the procession, they brought her back to the wretched Marcian.

X. After he discovered that she, and the most beautiful Juliana who felt the same, were not to be persuaded in the slightest either by promises of goods or by the threats of evils, fearing that he would be subjected to greater disgrace if he should openly attempt what was utterly foolish and impossible to bring to pass, he pronounces the sentence against both, ordering their heads to be severed by the sword. Her father, a slayer of his own child, was present and, being a spectator of these things being done, was not satisfied with this alone, nor was he content with the magnitude of the disaster—to behold with a father's eyes his daughter, and such a beautiful daughter, being put to death by the hands of the executioners; but ^D if he himself did not become the perpetrator of the blow, he judged it to be a weakness and a softness of soul, just as if he did not imagine that his being seen as a wicked man would be a manifest disgrace. Therefore, the sentence already having been passed, he takes the martyr, ready to commit the slaughter with his own hands. And as she was being led away to the mountain, with Juliana following, Barbara, already about to receive the end of her life, was mindful of the prayer of her friend; and having knelt, she said: “O Beginningless God, who stretched out the heaven as a canopy and established the earth upon the waters, who command the clouds to rain and brought forth the sun to provide light for all,

^A you who provide these common blessings alike to the just and the unjust, the good and the wicked, hear me also now as I pray, O King, and whoever shall invoke your name and my struggle in his home, let no pestilential disease or any other of those things that can bring harm and suffering to bodies fall upon it. For you know, Lord, that we are flesh and blood, the work of your immaculate hands, and honored by your image and likeness. She spoke, and a voice from heaven was heard wonderfully, calling her and Juliana, her companion in the struggle, to heaven and promising the fulfillment of the things she had requested. Having heard this sweet voice, Barbara was strengthened, continued on her way, and was led to the place of her passing.

^B XI. When she had arrived there, bowing her head, she received her consummation at paternal hands by her father’s sword, a good fruit appearing manifestly from an evil tree; Juliana also, having been put to death there at the same time by one of the soldiers who were present. In the place where these things happened, divine justice also pursued the impious father, for not even a modicum of goodness remained in him, on account of the excess of his wickedness and the total rejection of any hope of healing. For returning from the mountain, he is struck by lightning and is utterly deprived of life—not only this ephemeral life, but that which abides—that truly miserable man, worthy of neither. ^C The force of this divinely dispatched fire also passed to the governor Marcian, a prelude, indeed, and a true sign of that immaterial fire which is to punish him eternally.

Valentianus, a certain pious and God-loving man, took up the holy bodies of the martyrs, and having honored them, as was fitting, with sacred chants, he piously and honorably laid them to rest in a place called Gelassus, which is twelve miles distant from Euchaita, as a remedy for diseases, an exultation for souls, and a most beloved delight for God-fearing men, to the glory of Christ our true God, to whom is due honor, power, majesty, and magnificence, now and always, and to the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT AND A PARTIAL NARRATIVE OF THE MIRACLES OF THE MOST FAMOUS AMONG MIRACLE-WORKERS, NICHOLAS, ARCHBISHOP OF MYRA IN THE LYCIAN PROVINCE.

^APREFACE. The hand of a painter is a clever thing, and skilled at imitating the truth and revealing clear symbols of reality. Yet a narrative is something wiser; it is far more effective than painting in displaying what it intends, setting the object before the eyes, and—more importantly—it knows how to incite and inject a stimulus of emulation into the soul, and to rouse it to imitation. For the life of those who have lived according to God, when expressed in words, would attract and inflame many toward virtue, and urge them completely toward a similar zeal; just as, indeed, does the life of the divine Father Nicholas—and this, more than any other, inasmuch as it delights the hearing, gladdens the soul, and rouses it to the practice of noble deeds. Therefore, we must relate his deeds and capture them in words to the best of our ability; although they have long been clearly known to many and stand in no need of history, except for the sake of recalling them to memory today, and for the gladdening of your own virtue-loving souls. For, as it says, "When the righteous is praised, the peoples will be gladdened."

^B

^CI. To this great and admirable Father, then, Patara was his fatherland, a city of Lycia, and one of the distinguished ones previously. His parents were born of reputable stock and possessed property that was sufficient—insofar as it was not superfluous—nor had they tasted of worldly glory and proud vanity. ^D They presented themselves as a noble pattern of moderation to the child, desiring only to have leisure for the good and to pursue it in every way. They, being planted by the channels of the waters of piety, together bring forth in their season their most beautiful fruit, this divine Nicholas

^A His mother ceased bearing, remaining barren from that time and producing no other children, nature in a way testifying that it could not bring forth another such. But when the mother brought to light this noble branch, who was both first and last, they, together with her husband, gave back to the Spirit the manifold fruit, the heap of virtues, the sea of good things, namely, the wondrous Nicholas. Born of such parents, as if to show in the fruit the character of the seed, he provides proof of his affinity with the Baptist in the barrenness of her who bore him. For the one, having been born, loosens the mother’s birth pangs; but this man, as the story will later relate, closes them. And when it was necessary to suckle him as an infant and to apply him to his mother’s breast, God indicates here too what sort of man Nicholas would be when he attained a discerning age. For during the whole week he used to take milk as an infant; but when the fourth day of the week and also the Friday arrived, he would partake of milk only once on each of these days, and that at the evening hour, being raised under a perfect discipline even before the age of childhood, and revealing from the very beginning that temperance was natural to him.

^B II. Being thus reared, and expressing in himself the good habits—partly by copying them from his parents, and partly by growing and cultivating them himself from within, just as some good and noble earth—he soon reached the proper age and was handed over to a teacher of letters. He, excelling in the magnitude of his nature and the sharpness of his mind, running swiftly through the air, as it were, harvested most branches of learning in a short time. He rejected that common and worldly type of education, shunning unseemly associations—I mean, ignorant conversations—and, having altogether interdicted himself from talking to women or even casting an eye upon them, he took care to live a life of temperance. And bidding farewell to external distractions, he devoted himself to divine houses, preferring to be a doorkeeper in them according to the sentiment of the divine David.* ^C And after he had labored sufficiently in the knowledge of the divine Scriptures and the dogmas concerning God, and had been adorned with countless graces, and was truly observing the accurate and exact form of life that befits priests, his character being stable and senile even before gray hairs appeared, they saw fit to deem him a presbyter. Therefore, at the urging of his uncle, he was ordained presbyter by the prelate who was then of the Myrensians; and he was rendered back to God who had given him, as he had truly been a gift of prayer to those who had brought him forth. ^D This pontiff of the Myrensians, having been counted worthy of the gift of the divine Spirit, seeing the young man’s soul flowering with virtues, foretold the grace that was to abound in him, saying thus: "He will be a benign consolation to those who are afflicted with sadness; he will beautifully pasture souls, and he will lead back to the pastures of piety those who have strayed; and he will appear as a savior to those who have been (at risk on the sea and will show himself to all who are in dangers; for he shall abound in the same grace, foretell…

strayed; and he will appear as a savior to those who have been ^A in dangers; for he shall abound in the same grace, foretell, as he said, that he will be a kind consolation to those who are in sorrow, and will well shepherd their souls, and will call back the wandering to the pastures of piety; and what kind of savior he became in later times, the following discourse will declare.

III. On his zeal for the virtues and his care of the church.

How could anyone properly express how great was the progress he made after his ordination toward the practice of the virtues? Into what kinds of vigils, and fasts, and prayers did he deliver himself? In such a way that he preserved his priesthood pure and undefiled, from which one might conclude that he strove to accomplish the life of disembodied spirits while in a mortal body; and by this, he gave many grounds to form high opinions concerning him. When his uncle—who was also named Nicholas, as we mentioned before—came to remember him, and saw that the young man had advanced to such a degree of virtue and was worthy of such grace, he entrusted to him the care of the divine temple, which he himself had previously built in the name of the holy Sion and established as a monastery. He also provided the young man with as many helpers for the undertaking as he knew were his partners in virtue, so that they might share with him the ecclesiastical cares and provide for sacred matters most diligently. And when, some time later, this wonderful Nicholas had set out for Palestine, to appear at the holy places, as the discourse will show hereafter, these men filled his place, and administered the matters of the temple and the management of its affairs just as if he himself were present. But these things belong to a later time.

^B

IV. On the distribution of his inheritance to the needy.

Now, when his parents had departed this life, and he was left as heir to their possessions, he did not immediately look to the riches—as naturally a son who loves his parents might do, and as a person who had demonstrably shown his filial piety during his parents' lifetime and absence—nor did he have any concern for how the inheritance might be increased or remain and flow to him forever, as any other soul might do when looking to the love of money. For having long ago renounced worldly desires, he hastened to show that the precursors of his life were in harmony with the future manner of his life, and to attach all that followed to its beginning. Hearing the divine David saying, *"If riches abound, set not your heart upon them"* (Ps. cxlii, 8), and the wise Solomon saying, *"Let not mercy and faith fail thee"* (Prov. iii, 3), and not to refrain from doing good to the needy, he did not offer his hands for the gathering of wealth. Rather, he himself was a hand extended to everyone in need, a common banquet, and a river flowing with a great and quiet stream—the former due to the quality of his generosity, and the latter due to the hidden nature of his charity. But it is fitting now to mention his acts in particular, so that the wealth of his goodness may be more accurately recognized.

^C

V. On the man who was reduced to poverty.

A certain man, who had been of noble birth but had become ignoble, and had been rich but had become poor—as is the way of the precarious and uneven life we are accustomed to sketch—since he was entangled in total destitution and was now in need of even the basic necessities, alas! [he was reduced to the point where...] ^D

he even decided to prostitute his daughters—(they were three, all most beautiful and exceptionally fair to look at)—for money to those who desired them, and to provide from the gain thereof sustenance for himself and his children, as if wanting, as the saying goes, to dredge for mud from the mire, and to procure a livelihood for himself; what poverty, indeed, is not more tolerable than this? For he wanted to join them to men in legitimate marriage, but was unable to do so because, on account of his extreme poverty, they were immediately despised by all, as here the love of bodies was deemed secondary to the love of money. He was, therefore, consumed by these thoughts and this wicked conception, and was already proceeding to the deed. For there is nothing stronger than necessity. But what of You, the Lover of mankind, the God good in all things, who kindly bends toward our necessities—what device do You find, and what remedy for this unconquerable evil? You arrange for the matter to fall into the ears of Your servant, and You send him as an angel of good, miraculously ^B to a man being crushed both in body and in danger of soul, both to comfort his poverty and to lead him away from that which was leading him to destruction. But observe with me also this aspect of the great soul of the holy one, how he joins sympathy with prudence. For he did not endure to approach the man, nor to discuss even a little about this, nor to show him the hand that had benefited him, which is what those of cowardly and abject spirit are accustomed to do when they show mercy. For he knew that these things are burdensome to those who have fallen from wealth and glory to need, as they cause them to feel shame and revive in their memory their former happiness. But, as if striving to outdo even the evangelical commandment, which bids that the left hand not know what the right is doing, he did not even wish to take the one receiving the benefit as a witness of what was done; so far was he from seeking glory from men. For even when doing some good, he was more eager to remain hidden than those who do evil. ^C And indeed, having taken a large purse of gold, he goes out in the dead of night and, arriving at the house of the man, he lowers the gold inside through one of the windows, and he himself returns immediately as fast as his feet could carry him, as if ashamed to be seen giving. VI. In the morning, therefore, when the man had arisen and immediately found the gold, and then untied the bundle, he was struck with amazement, and thought himself rather to be deceived, fearing lest that which was seen might not be gold, but a delusion. For whence could he have suspected such a thing, that the one who had benefited him would not even wish to have the one who had received the benefit as a witness of the good deed? ^D Whence, rubbing it with his fingertips and examining it more curiously, when he realized it was truly gold, he was joyful, he was amazed, he was in doubt, he shed hot tears from joy, and knew not what to do. And as he turned it over in his mind many times, and had no one among his acquaintances to whom he could attribute what had happened, he referred this to God, and ceased not to give thanks with tears. For this reason, he hastened to resolve the cause of his sin against God before all else, and joined one of his daughters, the first to...

marry a man, with the gold that had flowed in of its own accord—or rather, one should say, sent by God—having been sufficiently provided as a dowry. When this came to the knowledge of the wonderful man, and he knew the man had acted according to his intention (for it was his own aim to remove the occasion of evil through the marriage), he was prepared to do the same for the second daughter. ^A And, accordingly, he sent another bundle of gold, equal in weight to the first, approaching by night and giving sense of it to no one. But when the man arose in the morning and found the gold lying there in the same way, he was again likewise struck with amazement, and prostrating himself upon the ground, he watered the floor with hot tears, saying, "O God, good God, guardian of all and cause of every good, steward of our salvation, who even before became man on account of my disobedience, and now deliverest me and my children from this necessary snare of the enemy, do Thou Thyself reveal to me him who serves Thy will, who is an angel among men and an imitator of Thy kindness; who is this, who has snatched us from the poverty that pressed upon us and released us from dark thoughts? ^B For behold, by Thy mercy, I am giving the second of my daughters to a man to be joined in lawful marriage, she having already escaped becoming a prey to the devil, and having brought me profit, whereas she was indeed a cause of psychic injury."

VII. He said these things, and immediately performed the marriage for the child, having his soul uplifted, and being buoyed by good hopes that not even in the case of the third would he lack one who would take her as a wife. For he thought he already had the dowry at hand, conceiving confidence, as was fitting, from the former events. Hence he was attentive, and his soul was well-prepared, so that the benefactor might not come unawares and, while providing aid, cause grief instead by not even making himself known to him who was being well-treated, nor even allowing him this one thing, the acknowledgment of the grace. ^C He was, then, keeping watch for his arrival in this manner. But for the third time, the benefactor, in the dead of night, stands by the usual place, and having come to the customary spot, he sends in an equal bundle of gold through the same window, and immediately retreated, running. But he, the one who customarily received the benefits, hearing the sound of the gold that had fallen—and not being unaware that the habitual provider of wealth was present again—followed straightway, with as much speed as he had. And having caught up and recognized who he was—for he was not obscure in virtue and nobility—he did not know what to do out of excessive joy, being already in possession of the prize and having the benefactor in his hands. ^D He then gladly lays hold of his feet, and called him redeemer and helper and savior of souls coming to the final point of destruction. "For if," he said, "the great Lord had not stirred up Thy mercies out of pity, I would have perished long ago, an unhappy father with my three daughters, woe is me! But now Thou hast saved us through Thyself, and rescued us from a small fall into sin,"—and raised up the poor from the dust, and lifted up the needy from the ground (Ps. CXVII, 7).

^A These things he said to him with tears of joy and a warm spirit of faith, and he was insistent, clinging to those blessed feet. But the other, since he saw that he was now manifest to the man, raises him up and binds his soul with the greatest of oaths that he would never, for his whole life, disclose these things to others nor make his mercy public. This is one thing concerning this man, and it is thus the greatest and most widely known; but for his daily distributions to the needy, and the supplying of bread to beggars whom he nourished in famine, and filling the souls of the hungry with good things—to speak of these even moderately would be more than anyone could suffice to do.

^B Since, however, he also loved a more perfect virtue and desired to enjoy greater intimacy with God, the desire for silence seized him, and he longed so fervently for this departure because he saw it was impossible for him to attain what he desired in any other way. "Be still," he says, "and know." Therefore he determined to remove himself far away and, according to the Prophet, to dwell in the desert. For the desert is the mother of silence, and silence is the mother of divine reflections and contemplation, which joins one most intimately to God. And at one time, it seemed good to him to see Palestine, so that he might visit the holy places where the Lord, who suffered for our sake, lived out His time in the world. Having boarded a ship that had just set sail from Egypt, he arrived there, at once thirsting for the beloved desert and, as we have already said, being moved to see the holy places. But let the account of this wait; let us linger for a short time on the voyage.

He was sailing directly toward Egypt. While none of the future events were foreseen by the sailors, he—that man—announced to them that a great storm and the onslaught of harsher winds were coming. For he said that he had seen the evil one board the ship, cutting with a sword the ropes of the mast and the rudder, circling the whole ship and twisting it, and attempting to sink it with all the men on board. This he said, and immediately, as if by some invisible signal, a fierce gale blowing from the clouds raised the sea into a great tempest. ^C Those who were sailing with him were no less tossed in their souls, and standing near the great Nicholas, they prayed to God and begged Him to succor them, as they were in extreme danger and hoped for no release from the evil—hoping that, since he had predicted it, he would also be able to bring help. He bade them be of good courage and promised that their liberation from the evil would be swift. Certainly, all the things that troubled them were quickly removed: the sea became placid and was changed into perfect tranquility; and they, forgetting their lamentations, were turned towards gladness of heart, giving thanks to God and His servant, wondering at him doubly: both that he had foretold the sad events and that he had removed them.

^A IX. But as these things were thus, one of the sailors, having climbed to the top of the middle mast to arrange properly some of the ship's rigging, as he was about to come down from there, slipped and fell into the middle of the ship, and he lay there breathless and appeared dead. He, however, being most ready to bring aid even before being called, awakened him with prayer more easily than if he were aroused from sleep, and restored him alive again to the sailors. Then, having unfurled all the sails and completed the rest of the voyage with a gentle and sweet breeze, as soon as they had reached land, the Lord immediately performed many wondrous works through Nicholas, and a sea of miracles was poured out. For if I must speak in summary, there was no one who was oppressed by a malady or disease, or burdened by any grief, who approached Nicholas and was not immediately healed, laying aside that which caused him pain. Since, therefore, the healing was not only easy but also given without charge, how great the number of those healed, how great the thanksgiving offered to God, and how great the multitude of those glorifying Him that gathered—reason allows one to conjecture. For to record each of these things in writing is the same as if someone wished to count the sand of the sea and the multitude of the stars.

^B X. Having departed thence, he comes again to the tomb of Christ and to the venerable Golgotha, where also the saving cross was planted for our sake. Then he also approaches the wood of the divine cross by night, and as he approaches, the gates of the holy place open of their own accord; and having offered there fervent and frequent prayer and adoration, he obtains a more abundant operation of the good Spirit. After he had spent sufficient time in Palestine, he uses the sea again for his return to the land that bore him, as a divine vision had commanded him, so that his own sheep might no longer be deprived of his sweet voice. ^C Here, upon the marvelous man boarding the ship, the wickedness of the sailors is exposed, and the power of the divine Spirit is manifested in him. For he intended to sail to his own country, and having previously reached an agreement to this effect with those fine sailors, he thus boarded the ship; but they, once they had weighed anchor, remembered their own homes. ^D Having thus set out from the harbor, and having spread the sails, with the wind blowing favorably for them, they set sail toward their own land. But Justice did not remain heedless; rather, it pursued them at their heels, punishing their wickedness, and a violent tempest immediately blowing against them turned the steering oars and carried off the rudders, and threatened them with imminent destruction, while it drove him into the harbor of his native land. What, then, did that sympathetic and great-souled man do? He used no bitter nor even any harsh speech toward them. But as soon as he saw them repenting and noted their bitter penitence, he was overcome by his own innate goodness, and on the second voyage he sent them back again to their homeland. He, however, having now returned to the monastery of holy Sion, which had been founded by his uncle

^A already beautifully, as our narrative has declared, appeared to them with gladness, and filled all who were in it with such delight. I know that a warm longing possesses you, and you thirst to learn how he ascended the throne, and how matters proceeded for him after the primacy. This narrative therefore comes to declare these things. For since Providence was wisely arranging his affairs from above, and this great light was to be placed upon a great lampstand, it led him back again to the city, assiduously producing the divine honey of virtue.

XI. Being such that he eluded the eyes of all, he made himself manifest to a greater degree, and worthy of all things. For virtue did not hide the worker, no more than light hides those who walk by it; and the fruits of his labors quickly revealed the nobility of the tree. But the eyes of God, being watchers of hidden things, would not suffer him to be hidden even any longer. Indeed, the Father who sees in secret becomes manifest and shows, by rewarding him openly, how one must attend to the narrative. At the time when the bishop of Myra had left both his see and his life, and had set out on the journey to God, a holy zeal entered into the bishops under him and the leading men of the clergy to restore a worthy man to the throne. And so, once everyone had assembled in the church, one of them advised—this being a dispensation of God and of His wisdom—to entrust these matters to prayer, and to commit his ordination to the vote from above. As they were therefore using prayer—for the word pleased them—the Lord, who does the will of those who fear Him, makes known to one of them the person to be set in charge of the Church. He does so in this way: To this man at prayer, a certain divine vision appeared and seemed to command him to stand by the entrances of the temple and to say, "Whoever may enter the temple first, this is the one moved by My Spirit." Nicholas is the name of the man to whom both the bishopric and the guardianship of the Church must be entrusted. For this has been foreordained for him.

XII. Thus that divine man, having been initiated, does not keep these things secret to himself, but makes them manifest to the synod and to the clergy. And indeed, with everyone more diligently occupied in prayer, he to whom the great man was revealed arrives at the place where the vision had commanded. Now, about dawn, moved by the divine Spirit, the great Nicholas also arrived at the church. And when he was in the vestibule, the one who had been deemed worthy of that divine vision received him and asked diligently, "How are you called, O child?" He, however, kindly and simply said, "Nicholas the sinner, Master, servant of your holiness." When that divine man heard these moderate and humble words from the great man—partly from the name of Nicholas, which the vision that appeared had foretold to him, and partly from the depth of his modesty (for he was not ignorant that, "Upon whom does God look, if not upon the meek and quiet?")—recognizing that this was he whom God indicated,

^A he was immediately filled with joy, and revealed his exultation; and while so rejoicing—for one must use the words of holy Scripture, like one who finds great spoils and chances upon a hidden treasure—reasoning that the discovery of such a great man had not happened without God, he said to him, "Follow me, my child." And taking him with him, he brought him to the bishops. They at once compared the matter with what had previously been told to them by the man, and their souls were also filled with divine joy, and they judged the virtue of the man to be in accordance with the divine decree. Then, just as they were, they led the saint into the middle of the temple. And since the report had quickly run everywhere—for it is the wont of fame, in such great matters, to use a swift and rapid wing—an infinite multitude flowed together. When all had gathered, the bishops at once said with a louder voice, "Accept, brethren, your pastor, whom the Holy Spirit has anointed for you, to whom He has entrusted the governing and instruction of your souls: whom not human, but divine suffrage has appointed. We have, therefore, he whom we longed for; he whom we sought, we have now received. ^B Since we are to be rightly pastured and led by him, we do not lack the hope of standing before God as a peculiar people on the day of His appearing and revelation." To this the people added their thanksgiving; they uttered words of joy to God, such as cannot easily be expressed in words.

XIII.

^A Participating in nothing of a good kind, yet enduring the sorrows of the prison so courageously, as if one were rather feasting upon delights. But not even thus did he who was noble in all respects relax; but just as one waters tender plants, he was watering all those under him with the streams of piety, setting their feet upon a firm and unbreakable foundation, and filling them with a more noble impulse, rendering them worthy soldiers of the truth. ^B

XIV.

XV.

^A to be seen. As for the evil demons, just as if undergoing some violent and tyrannical force, they were not able in any way to withstand him or remain; yet, as they fled, they uttered cries, insisting that they were being treated most unjustly by him, and were being driven against their will from their possessions. Thus, then, did these things proceed for the holy man, and the expedition which he had undertaken against the demons met with a favorable conclusion. But the narrative wishes to remember other things as well, and not to consign to oblivion those matters worthy of being told and kept in memory.

XVI. Council of Nicaea; famine in Myra and the miracle of the grain.

XVI. For when Constantine, who was the first emperor to choose to be pious, was administering the Roman empire, and this great pontiff was training the multitude around him to accept the orthodox dogmas, and was rooting out—even to the very foundations—everything that was alien and adulterous among them, all the orthodox gathered ^B at Nicaea, in order to confirm the pious decree of the faith, to drive far away the impious blasphemy of Arius, to establish the Church, which had been tossed by waves, and to proclaim the Son as equal in honor to the Father, thus joining both parts into one. This admirable high priest also became a part of the holy synod ^C, and he strove manfully against the trifles of Arius. When he had dissolved everything and handed down the accurate rule of the faith to all, he departed thence and returned to his own flock, exhorting everyone and leading them toward virtue, and preaching the doctrine more sharply and fervently.

But when a severe famine had once beset Lycia, the city of the Myreans also had need of food, and was laboring under the same evils. Therefore, to a certain sailor who was engaged in the corn trade, the great Nicholas appeared by night, and having given him three gold pieces as earnest-money, he commanded him to set sail for the city of the Myreans and to sell the grain to those who were there. The merchant, having awakened and finding the gold in his hand, and having considered the vision in his mind and wondered at what had happened, sailed to Myra. And he indeed sold the grain in the city, but those who were in it, having found in this a solace for their famine, ascribed it to God and the great Nicholas, just as they did many other things.

XVII. Sedition of the Taiphali.

XVII. Then a sedition ^D by the Taiphali arises in Great Phrygia. When the emperor Constantine heard of this, and had deliberated about it in common, he sent three of his commanders together with the troops under them (their names were Nepotianus and Ursus and Herpylion) to quell the affairs and to bring order to Phrygia. They set out with great speed from Constantinople and landed in a certain port of the Lycian province, which was called the naval station of Adriaces. But when the sea did not grant them

passage ^A they remained for a short time at the harbor. Meanwhile, some of the soldiers under their command left the ship to purchase necessary supplies. And as military men are wont to be—for they take great pleasure in the plundering and violent seizing of others' property—they acted here according to their custom, and vexed and pillaged the possessions of the inhabitants. Then the matter proceeded to a sedition, and a certain tumult was stirred up at what is called Placoma. When the admirable Nicholas learned of this, he, being the man he was in such matters, with his spirit equally stirred, came immediately to the naval station. When he became known to a few, rumor spread the news through all, and the whole city at once came out to meet him, together with the commanders of the army, to pay him their respects as was the custom. When he asked the commanders why and whence they had come, they said they had been sent by the emperor to settle the seditions that had broken out in Phrygia. He received them into the city and entertained them splendidly and magnificently. Then, when they had quieted the tumult of the soldiers and had obtained the blessing they needed from him, they were about ^B to depart.

XVIII-IX. Meanwhile, some of the citizens approached Saint Nicholas, and falling at his feet with great fervor of spirit, they begged that he would bring aid to those who were being wronged, and they requested to be delivered from their present evils. For they said with wailing and tears that the governor Eustathius, having been corrupted by money from those who cultivate envy and wickedness, was putting to death three men of the city who had committed no sin whatsoever. For these men, the whole city is tormented and afflicted in a pitiable manner, and in great sorrow implores your presence. For had you been present, the sun would not have looked upon such a crime in this place. When the man of God had heard these things, and being a most accurate imitator of His—that is, God’s—compassion, he did not delay to bring help, nor did he put any interval of time between hearing and the impulse to assist, but putting on the zeal for the good like a lion’s skin, he immediately arose ^C and was filled with boldness of soul. Having taken the aforementioned commanders with him, he set out on the road. When he reached a certain place—this was called Leo—he asked those who were passing by whether they knew anything about those men, and where they had left them. They said, "At the place called the Dioscori, in the square." He went straight toward the martyrdom of the holy martyrs Crescentius and Dioscorides; and when he learned that they had just left the gate and were being led to Beran—this was the place where those condemned to death were led—he quickened his pace, and supplying with the fervor of his heart what was lacking in his old age, in a short time he arrived at the appointed place. Then he saw a great crowd standing around, and the men behind, alas! with their hands bound, their eyes covered, and with necks bare and stretched out, awaiting the execution; a miserable spectacle, and one which not even ^D an eye could easily endure to witness, and the executioner himself, who had already drawn his sword and was looking upon the slaughter with breathing and furious eyes, and by his very aspect betrayed his inhumanity.

^A XX. After he saw these things and cast his eyes upon that sad spectacle, tempering his severity with gentleness, he spoke nothing rash or disordered, nor did he approach timidly or with a small heart, but approaching the executioner with speed, he snatched the sword from his hands, feeling neither fear nor disturbance; he threw him to the ground and released those men from the bonds by which they were tied. As he did this with great authority, there was no one who would restrain him, both because they knew his noble virtue and because they revered the man’s zeal for justice. For those who had been saved, joy drew forth warm tears, and being changed, they cried out with gladness; the whole open field was a theater, and all were praising, applauding, and reporting the event to one another, overcome with amazement and wonder. Here appeared the governor Eustathius, who was unjustly mixing for them the cup of death. But upon his appearing, the great one disregarded him, and did not welcome him as he approached, but pushed him away as he hastened to fall at his feet, and threatened to report him to the emperor, and to call God against him, and in every way to surround him with the final evils for having used his office most unjustly and attempting great crimes. ^B But he, struck terribly by the goads of repentance and having his soul always afflicted by his conscience, sought mercy with tears and became a piteous suppliant, saying, "Why do I not, what can I do that the great one might be reconciled to me and cease his anger?" Then he also shifted the blame onto Simonides and Eudoxius, the leading men of Myra. Yet he was not unaware that he was lying; for he knew accurately that having valued justice less than gold, he had unjustly condemned the innocent to death. These men, therefore, were entirely grateful to him, and the name of Nicholas was the constant song and service upon their tongues. However, the commanders, once they saw these things, having been counted worthy of the divine prayers from him, and carrying these as a kind of good provision, arrived in Phrygia. And having settled everything there well, and transformed all the discord into peace, and having finished all that had been enjoined upon them by the emperor, they returned immediately and gladly to Byzantium. ^C A noble and magnificent reception was prepared for them by the emperor and those in authority, and from that time they lived in the palace as men looked up to and illustrious, and there was great glory about them.

XXI. But envy would not bear this with a calm mind, nor were these bright things endurable to the eyes of the envious. For just as the sun is painful to diseased eyes, so all brilliance and glory of one’s neighbor stings the envious, and they prefer rather to suffer evil themselves than to see others doing well. For this reason, even now, some went to the prefect of the city, being outperformed by them, and composed a wicked slander, saying things that were not good about the commanders, nor indeed that their industry would tend to the end of virtuous outcomes. ^D

^A Thus, having spoken against the men, and having bought the prefect with much gold, they corrupted the emperor’s ears through him. For immediately he himself, appearing before the emperor, recounts what he heard from them, and persuades him to seize the men untried and, for the time being, to commit them to prison. "Lest they notice," he says, "and carry out everything they have plotted." It happened thus, and the men were held in prison, not even knowing themselves for what reason they had been condemned to the jail; so far were they from having plotted anything evil against the emperor.

^B XXII. A considerable amount of time passed, and again the malice, as if unsatisfied with what had come before, devised a further end. For while those men were thus languishing in prison, the accusers, seeing time slipping away, and fearing lest if something unexpected occurred, their fabricated snares might be exposed, and the danger might be turned back upon themselves, and that they might reap the fruits of what they themselves had sown, approach the prefect again. Being now a larger crowd, they demanded that he not leave the men like that for too long, but inflict upon them the punishment they deserved. He, therefore, as he was greedy for money, and his heart was shaken for the gold that had been paid to him, lest he be deprived of it—not having received the remainder of what had been promised—for wealth is a cowardly thing; ^C he approaches the emperor again, and with a set expression of his face and a somber look, pretending he had come as a messenger of woes, and at the same time wishing to show that he cared entirely for the emperor’s life and was most faithful and well-disposed towards him. Then, through various insidious words, he creeps in and insinuates himself, saying: "Master, those who have plotted against your power, in return for the good things they have received from you, do not desist from such plotting even in prison, nor are they led by any repentance, but even now they persist in their earlier designs, and wickedly weave the same things again. If, therefore, it is permitted to suffer terribly those who have plotted terrible things, do so; if not, you must at least take care lest, by acting first, they do us harm." These things disturb the emperor and cast him into suspicion. He, therefore, desiring to free his mind from anxiety and no longer to fear for the future, condemns the innocent to death.

^D XXIII. It was therefore appointed that they should die on the following day. For the verdict had been given in the evening; and an unhappy messenger of the condemnation comes to the prison guard and explains everything that had been decreed. He, having lamented the calamity deeply by himself—for he was, as it seems, far more humane than the prefect, and had already become their friend and intimate—then approaches the men, somber and in tears, and as if from his very expression announcing the grief of the situation, he said: "I wish I had never spoken with you in the first place, nor spent so much time together with you, nor shared your table and salt in your misfortune."

I would have endured the calamity more easily, and felt less pain at the separation that now lies before us; my soul would not have been so afflicted. For tomorrow, brothers, we are parted from one another, alas! in a bitter and final separation. If, then, you wish to make any settlement regarding your property, now is the time, lest bitter death anticipate your intent." Thus he spoke, lamenting. ^A And what else could a soul do in such a state, knowing itself guilty of no crime worthy of death? They tore their garments, they clasped their hands together, they plucked at their hair, and uttering something mournful and pathetic, they looked up to heaven and called upon divine justice as their witness. "What demon," they said, "has begrudged us our lives? What terrible thing have we done that we have been condemned to suffer the death of criminals? Who are those who accuse us, who are those who falsely expose the things we have done?" This they said, and they called their own people by name—relatives, acquaintances, their uncle—that they might not bear witness to their unjust slaughter.

^B XXIV. While they were thus lamentingly and piteously bewailing their misfortune, one of the three, by name Nepotianus, recalling Nicholas and how that man in Myra had formerly defended three men and delivered them from death, becoming for them an unexpected savior and a good protector, cast out a word, set it in motion, and communed with the others. For necessity is inventive, and awakens the soul to many thoughts. Thus, as they were conversing with one another, they immediately took up Nicholas as their mediator with God, and said: "Lord, God of your Nicholas, who formerly delivered three men from unjust death, look upon us now, for there is no one among men, Master, who sees us or rescues us ^C now. For behold, our heart is constricted, and its sorrows have multiplied; behold, our voice fails us before our soul, and our tongue melts like wax in the fire of our heart, and we can no longer even offer a prayer to you, our speech having been taken away by the constriction of our spirit. May your mercies quickly overtake us, O Lord; deliver us from the hand of those who thirst for our soul; hasten, O Good One, hasten to our help."

XXV. He who cares for those who fear him attended to these things, and more than a father standing over his children, he sent them aid most swiftly. ^D This was his divine servant, the truly admirable Nicholas, who, standing before the emperor in a dream, said: "Emperor, rise quickly and release the three generals held in prison, who are innocent. For a wicked slander and vanity are the causes of the accusations against them." He then went on to dramatize the injustice they were suffering and to relate the details of the plot with precision, threatening that if he did not, he would stir up war against him and destroy him miserably. The emperor, amazed at the man's boldness, both in general and because he appeared inside the royal bedchambers at night, asked: "But who are you, who threaten me and menace me with such things?" He replied: "I am Nicholas, who presides over the metropolis of the Myrians." And immediately, disturbed in his vision,

^A he arose. The saint likewise appeared to the prefect Ablabius while he was sleeping, and gave him the same instructions concerning the men. When Ablabius also inquired who he might be, he replied, "I am Nicholas, the servant of Christ." Ablabius, having been awakened, revolved in his mind what he had seen in his sleep, and pondered what this appearance might be and what it portended. At the same time, someone came to him from the emperor, reporting what the emperor had seen in his sleep; and he tells of the vision and describes all that had appeared to him there. Struck by the wonder of that sight, both the emperor and the prefect—and marveling how, as if by a signal, the same vision had appeared to each of them, since they were unable to interpret the dream—the emperor summoned the generals from prison. When all were standing around, he said, "By what magic arts, pray, have you used to send such dreams to us, threatening us with such a fierce war and portending the most grievous things against us?" But they, being conscious of nothing of the kind themselves, asked one another with nods whether anyone knew anything, casting at each other eyes filled with amazement. When the emperor saw the men in this state, finding them to be entirely ignorant of the matter and astonished at what they heard, he immediately turned to a gentler manner and, drawing near to them, commanded them to respond to this.

XXVI. They, filling their eyes with tears and perpetually wailing, said: "We do not know, O emperor, what magic art is, nor have we meditated any evil against your power; the eye that sees all things is witness. But if these things are not so, and we have devised some evil against you, show us no mercy, O emperor, none at all. Nay, ^C by the Trinity itself, do not spare our kin, but if there be anything even heavier than death, pronounce it against us. For us, O emperor, this is an inheritance left by our fathers, to be kept forever: to honor the emperor and to prefer goodwill toward him above all things. If anyone should transgress these things, to punish him with the greatest penalties and thereafter treat him as an enemy. Wherefore, ^D neglecting our own, we looked to your safety, O emperor. But when a hostile hand moved against your power, and the time demanded such virtue of men, passing over others who were of the same rank as ourselves, you chose us—that which you had not done!—before the rest, and entrusted to us the charge of waging war against them. For this reason, with prompt and eager spirit, we obeyed your command, and we undertook the war against the enemies, and we demonstrated our own virtue—let it be said with God’s favor—in the deeds themselves, in which I know well that all will agree. This which formerly afforded us happiness now arms envy against us; and we are condemned, alas! as you see, and we occupy ourselves expecting to suffer the ultimate fate. Thus, the demonstration of our goodwill toward you has returned to us, O emperor, as the occasion for a greater punishment, and instead of the expected glory and rewards, the fear of death and condemnation holds us, on account of this.

fear has taken hold of us. How, O sun, how, O divine justice, can you bear to look upon these things?

^A [KΖ']. Broken in soul by these things, the emperor was clearly repentant concerning the decision against them. For he trembled at the judgments of God, and felt ashamed of his purple, fearing that while he gave laws to others, he himself might have to give an account and pay the penalty of judgment. He therefore gazes upon them with kindly eyes and speaks gently, as if applying soothing medicinal balms to a soul afflicted with pain. They, however, having relieved their souls of the fear of his words, and since they had already obtained from the emperor the opportunity for boldness, published the treasure; they did not hide their hope, and they cried out with a loud voice, "Lord, the God of your Nicholas, who once delivered the three men from an unjust death, do you now deliver us from this danger that hangs over us!" ^B The emperor catches the word, and says, "Who is this Nicholas, and how and whom did he save? Tell me." Nepotianus then immediately recounts everything in detail, and how, upon his unexpected appearance to them, he had miraculously delivered them. And the emperor, who both honored the Divine and revered his servants, and who sought to be adorned by this—he did not even then forget himself and his own virtue, but, having had the man reported to him, he did not need many words, but rather, recalling the vision that had appeared to him, and the boldness on behalf of those suffering injustice, and marveling beyond measure at the man's zeal, he immediately deemed the men worthy of pardon. "Not I," he said, "but he whom you invoked for help, Nicholas, he is the one who grants you your lives; he who would not even let us sleep, defending you most fervently and caring for you. ^C Go, therefore, to him. And having shorn your hair, render thanks; and announce to him from us what was commanded, saying: 'Behold, I have done what you ordered; do not threaten me further.'" He said these things, and he gives them an illuminated golden Gospel, and another vessel as well, golden and set with precious stones, and two gilded candles, ordering them to dedicate these to the temple in Myra. Thus they, too, having obtained a wonderful salvation, immediately set out upon the road, and with eager feet arrived at the saint’s place, and saw him with joy. And they were visible in their extreme happiness, ready to be at ease or even to lay down the lives that had been granted to them, so as to give worthy thanks to their benefactor. Then they dedicate to the temple the things from the emperor ^D and...

Contest of the Holy Martyr Pausilypus

And the Commemoration of our Holy Father Celestine, Pope of Rome

^A they at some point encountered a severe storm, such that they despaired of the salvation that was in their hands. Since they had learned from report that the great Nicholas was a swift help in such unexpected events, they were all hanging upon the hope placed in him, and they mentally called upon him against the storm, and they stretched out their hands to him fervently, and relied only on the help that came from him. And he, not delaying even a little, leaped onto the ship, and having become visible to the eyes of those there, "Behold," he said, "you called me, and I am present to help you." Then, having ordered them to be of good courage, he took the helm in the sight of all, and it was clearly seen that he was steering the ship; and in addition to these things, having rebuked the sea, he calmed their billows and the whirlwinds and the other evils arising from the storm, just as my Jesus did before, and thus he gave them a gentle and calm voyage. When the land received them as they were carried by the gentle wind, descending from the ship, they hastened to reach the one who had saved them from the danger. Then, having learned that he had gone to the church, they went to the temple. And he, indeed, having taken his place among the clergy, stood like the others; but when they cast their eyes upon him—who was not previously known to them—from that very apparition which had occurred at sea, they at once recognized him, and running up, they fell at his feet; and they greeted him with their lips, and they spoke some words of gratitude, and with tears mixed with joy, remembering what they had suffered and explaining with great joy how they had been rescued; then they ^B also recounted the series of events in detail to those present.

XXIX. Now the admirable Nicholas, knowing how to rescue not only from bodily danger but also—what was held in greater care—from the danger of the soul, because he saw with his soul's penetrating eye the wickedness lurking within them, which cast them far from God and His commandments, said, "Recognize yourselves, I beseech you, children; recognize yourselves, and direct the movements of your hearts and the impulses of your minds toward the pleasing of God. For even if we escape the notice of the many, and we think that the whole manner of our being lies only in the doing of evil deeds, and we appear to be good, yet nothing of ours at all escapes Him. 'For man looks upon the face,' he says, 'but God looks upon the heart.' You have heard the Scripture also saying this: 'Do not do evil, and evil will not overtake you.' Rather, strive more insistently to do good, and pursue the sanctification of the body with your whole purpose. 'For you are the temple of God. And if anyone destroys the temple of God,' the divine Paul says this, 'God will destroy him.' Do this, and for the rest you shall have God as an invincible helper." ^C These things that were said were sufficient to demonstrate the riches which he possessed from God. But I do not know how it is that his mention, even here, does not allow the discourse to cease; but unless he adds what remains, he considers it to be a very great loss.

^A

XXX. A discourse, handed down to us from long ago, describes this blessed man as elderly in his ways but angelic in his appearance, breathing forth sanctification and divine grace. Moreover, it adds regarding him that if anyone encountered him, upon merely seeing him, an immediate improvement and change for the better occurred in the one who encountered him. And whoever might be burdened in soul by some affliction or sorrow, he, even if he only fixed his eyes upon him, received sufficient consolation for his grief. A supernal radiance also went forth from his appearance, and his face shone more than that of Moses. If, therefore, it happened that any of those of different sects met him on the way, merely by hearing his sweet tongue, they would immediately depart, having cast away the heresy that had grown up with them from childhood, and having embraced the right doctrine of the truth. He, then, having lived in such a way, and having behaved in a bright and truly virtuous manner—having anointed those who were with him like a most sweet and inviting ointment in the midst of the city of Myra—grew to a very great age, and became full of both divine and mortal days. Since, being a man, he had also to serve the common law of common nature, he fell into a brief illness. But he spent this time in giving thanks to God and in hymns of departure and send-off, and with the hope of his departure he very gracefully set himself for the great transition. For what to others is remaining in the flesh, for him was being sundered from the body. But he thus leaves behind this temporary life and crosses over to that long and blessed life, abiding and rejoicing with the splendors of the angels, and seeing the light of the Trinity more clearly and ^B more purely. His precious body, by the holy hands of bishops and all the clergy, and honored with a bright procession, is laid to rest in the temple in Myra, pouring out even to this day, as ointment, a remedy for diseases of soul and body. ^C

XXXI. Now, as people were flowing there from all parts of the earth and were partaking abundantly of the grace, it happened that some who were removed from the Lycians, and were distant by a journey of many days, were seized by a good desire to reach the tomb of the saint, and to draw of the myrrh and take delight in the sanctification. And indeed, having loaded their provisions onto the ship, they were about to sail to Lycia. But a wicked demon, which formerly dwelt by the altar of Artemis, having been driven from there with others by the illustrious Nicholas—who had cast down the altar to the ground—perceived their voyage. This evil spirit, both bearing a grudge against the saint for the destruction of the temple and his own expulsion from there, and striving to contend with as much power as it could, while at the same time wishing to deprive the men of the sanctification and to dull their desire, disguised itself as a woman, and appeared to be carrying a vessel full of oil, and pretended that it also was very eager to carry it ^D to the saint's tomb; but

it said, ^A "How is it at all bold for a woman to attempt such a great sea? I beg you, therefore, take this vessel, transport it to the tomb, and pour the oil into the saint's lamp." That abominable demon was saying these things and pleading on behalf of the vessel to the God-loving men. But in truth it was some wicked operation, and altogether worthy of the one who had given it. Therefore, it persuaded them, after much entreaty. And when they had taken it into their hands, since their first day's voyage had been completed, this also was your work, O faithful servant of God and excellent defender of those in danger, this too that was done wondrously and against all expectation. For appearing by night to one of them, he ordered him to cast the vessel into the deep. But they, when they had risen at the break of dawn, did as they were ordered, and cast it into the sea. And immediately a flame was lifted on high into the air, and foul-smelling smoke and vapors were emitted from it. ^B Then the water began to part, and from below, clanging as if with an earthquake, it gave forth noises; and the droplets of water were sparks, and the ship, caught in such a surge, was already on the verge of being swamped; and the men, stupefied by the unexpected danger, looked at one another in sorrow and utter despair, finding no escape from such a great evil. But he who from afar cared for their safety, having ordered them to cast the vessel into the sea, appeared to them also at that moment, and delivered them from the very grave tempest and from the greatest of dangers. For as soon as the ship had ^C moved a little from the place, the men were set free from fear, and a certain sweet and fragrant breeze blew upon them, and they were delighted by the scent, and their souls were affected with the greatest joy.

XXXII. These are God's gifts to you, Nicholas; these are the rewards for your labors; these are the prizes for your ascetic struggles, those, I mean, that you have attained in this present life. For those future things are altogether such as cannot be seen by eyes, nor heard by ears, nor comprehended by heart, which we have learned ^D that God has prepared for those who love Him. But I shall not hesitate to call you both a glorious martyr and an unbloody victor, so far as we can know by looking to the purpose of your soul. You, by prayer alone, broke the impious power, and were beautifully recalled from exile; and you returned to the Christians with splendid trophies, and received your former honor in the second (office), in Christ Jesus our Lord, with whom to the Father, together with the holy and good Spirit, be glory, power, honor, and adoration, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER PATAPIUS

^A I. Egypt does not bring forth many; but when it does bring forth, it brings forth a great one. This saying is indeed applied to an old philosopher: yet the event is realized in Patapius. For that man, not only in his life and miracles, is he sufficient for all as an ornament to his country, but so much so that it is no longer ashamed of the impieties that were formerly in it, but rather boasts that it has produced him by the grace of God. His country was the most renowned Thebes, those Thebes which the most beautiful of rivers, the Nile, encompasses and always irrigates in season, and offers a most pleasant stream both to look upon and to drink. Born in these surroundings, and reborn by water and the spirit—for he was born of faithful parents—he was reared respectably, diligently educated, and so fashioned in his morals that the branches of virtue would soon reveal [the tree].

^B II. Since he was thus growing in age and true wisdom, and had become a philosopher in deeds—not in words—despising human affairs and pursuing only the divine, on account of these things he despised all others as well: country, parents, friends, acquaintances, and kinsmen. He bade farewell to that Egypt and that Nile, as they promised only the fruits of earthly things. But he, knowing that the desert was most suited for the exercise of the virtues, betook himself to it. And having betaken himself there, and spent a long time in it with many labors, he did not only produce and nourish what was most excellent in himself, but he also achieved that whatever was most beautiful should pertain to him. Since he had sufficiently received the divine radiance, and was entirely made light, not under a bushel, but placed upon a lampstand by God—this was the greatest cause for him of not remaining hidden. For he, after he had become a mountain, could not hide himself, (for indeed he was a city adorned with many good deeds) and he cried out with a clear voice, and called everyone together; some he led by his right deeds, and some by his miracles.

^A III. When, therefore, many flocked together, and because of the multitude of those who approached, the desert offered the appearance of a city, he fled from it, and from those who knew him well; and unknown, he came to Constantinople. When he had fixed the seat of his habitation at the wall which is in the Blachernae, he had leisure for himself alone and for God, a solitary guest, who neither had any meeting with many, nor was seen by them. And what another would have set as the end of his struggles, he judged to be the beginning—I mean the things that had preceded and that he had already rightly accomplished—and he pressed forward sharply, undertaking, as it were, greater struggles, and keeping himself entirely apart from any consent to the affections of the body. He had no care for clothing, no care for food, no care for sleep; as one who had already surpassed the active life, and was emulating the angelic life even while in the body, and in other things, and because he dwelt intelligently with intelligence, and apprehended that divine beauty by vision. Thus, contemplation running concurrently with action kept the practitioner upright and sublime, and lifted him even to heaven itself. The miracle-working grace, moreover, thrived and flourished in a wonderful way, as it were, unable to conceal the worker of virtue, while at the same time God glorified those who had chosen to glorify Him. But as the discourse had already set out to say, while he by no means admired glory, but desired above all to remain hidden, here too he becomes a manifest treasure of miracles and virtue.

^C IV. A certain young man, who had lost the splendor of his eyes from birth, but shone brightly with the light of the faith—Providence moving him toward this from above—approaches this great man. He imitates the blind man who is spoken of in the Gospels; except that he approached Christ, while this man approaches the servant of Christ, and speaks the same things as he did, with the same ardor and affection, saying: "Have mercy on me, and offer light to my eyes, you who are truly a son of light and grace, so that I, too, having become a spectator of these things which are seen, might indeed admire their excellence, and through the created things, praise the Creator." And this, indeed, the blind man said. But that man of mercy, seeing that his eyes were entirely devoid of any splendor, yet possessing such faith—which the divine Scripture says can even cause mountains to be moved—was touched, for why would he not be? being of a most merciful and gentle soul; and at the same time, probing the young man's intention: "Why, O young man," he said, approaching him, "do you seek to have me give what exceeds my powers? What have you seen in me of such a kind that you demand from me what only the Creator of all is able to bring to pass? For He gives these things, where and when and to whom He wills, in a paradoxical manner." By these words he gently drove the young man away, yet found him in no way relaxing his faith, nor desisting from his petition and his desire, but he still continued to send forth piteous and wretched voices. And he was indeed an object of pity in his appearance, but wonderful in his frame of mind.

^A His demeanor was such, yet his prudence and eloquence were admirable; he persuaded with his words and implored with his tears; he changed himself into every guise, and finally asserted that he would not leave, knowing that he would receive healing from him. Having, therefore, found in him a firm and indubitable faith, the great man imparted grace; and since speech sufficed for the healing, he said, “In the name of Jesus Christ, who grants light to the blind and life to the dead, in whom you also have believed as you came, be seeing.” The one made the statement, and the other saw; and immediately he appeared as he was, and went away doing everything, rejoicing, glorifying, and giving thanks, turning the eyes of all toward himself, so that some even indicated him with the finger, saying, “This is he who was once blind.” This was the beginning of the miracles of the great Patapius, and this was the manner so that the great light of his grace should not be unwitnessed and unseen by many. But the account wishes to add another to this, nothing inferior to the former in the matter of a miracle.

^B V. A certain man, prominent among the Byzantines, suffered from dropsy, and his body was terribly swollen. Having exhausted all his resources in the hands of physicians, he helped them by making them wealthier, but instead of health, he caused himself to lose his property. As he had despaired of those, but fixed his hope of salvation on help from above and on the prayer of the great man, he came to him, showed the severity of the malady, and related the sharpness of the pains. ^C Seeing what was a strange and pitiable thing—the skin moderately swollen and full of wind, the mass having spread through the entire body, and the man being like a living tomb—he took pity on the affliction. And he employs three things for the healing: prayer, the cross, and tears; the one as medicine, the other as an instrument with which he also seals everything around the womb, and the others as an ointment. For having mixed these with oil, he anointed the body, then invoked the Lordly name over him, saying: “Jesus Christ, who even before granted healing to the dropsical, He Himself now heals you and frees you from the scourge that presses upon you.” When he had said this, immediately the bonds of the humors of the abdominal obstructions were released, ^D and the natural passages discharged everything that was fluid and ichorous, and the entire internal structure of the viscera was purified, and the man was recovered.

VI. In addition to these, the account wishes to proceed and to relate something greater and more marvelous to hear. Another person, a youth in age, but wretched in soul, being driven by a fierce demon, sometimes would tear his clothes and wander about naked, at other times being carried over precipices and pits, at other times wandering off into mountains and wildernesses, and there are times when he was wretchedly cast into the waters, threatening himself with the most piteous death. This man, therefore, being driven by the customary and demonic scourge, was—alas!—being carried toward the sea with such lack of control. But God from above halts his momentum, unexpectedly bringing to him the great Patapius. For when the demoniac had unexpectedly met him

^A he began to tremble, to leap about in a miserable circle, to spew foam from his mouth, to roll his eyes, to gnash his teeth, and to look upon the holy man with a gaze that was, as it were, threatening and murderous. And when he drew near, the demon emitted pitiable cries, saying, "Woe is me! What is this? Here again is Patapius? What shall I do? Where shall I turn? Where shall I dwell in the future, having labored so much and barely found a dwelling place, only to be forcibly driven out of it now? Terrible art thou, O Nazarene, terrible indeed, and everywhere dominant over all. Where, then, shall I go? If into the desert, if into cities, if wherever one might say, thou thyself arrivest there, driving us away solely by the sign of thy cross and by thy name alone. I am vanquished, I am defeated: I am compelled to retreat." These things the evil spirit spoke, and he was tossing the young man into the air with his leaps. But that great athlete of God, having traced the cross in the air with his finger ^B and having rebuked him in the manner of the Lord, said, "Come out, unclean spirit, come out, and depart far away into the deserts. Christ commands thee these things through me, whose power thou hast confessed even against thy will." When Patapius had commanded these things, the spirit tore at the young man, cast him to the ground, and exited through his mouth like some smoke, and fled. And the young man, having recovered and come to himself, wept for joy, and ascribed his salvation first to God, and second to Patapius.

VII. That a woman was healed of a cancer.

VII. These things would suffice to be signs of his grace and confidence in God, but yet, having added one more thing to these—for the narrative is not unpleasant—I shall put an end to my discourse. A certain woman had fallen into a grievous disease; the malady was greater than could be treated by any human hand, and even greater than can be told by any tongue. For her breast, alas! producing within itself a disease that physicians call a cancer, was being eaten away with great pains. Nevertheless, the other limbs of her body as well, being affected by sympathy with the one, were wasting away. As time went on, almost the entire area had been consumed, while the pains bit more sharply at her heart; and death was close at hand. ^C But those skilled in medicine, while craftily treating the poor woman, only exhausted her means, while the disease nonetheless ravaged her breast. When the fame of the great Patapius spread everywhere, she acted prudently and profitably, approaching him and striking her head upon the ground, touching his knees, and weeping piteously. "Heal, servant of God, heal me, wretched as I am," she cried lamentably, "for whose body, even before the burial, the worm has devoured, and pains have eaten away, and have made the death to be fled by all, desirable to me." He, however, having looked first at her soul before her body, said: "If you offer pure faith to God, who is able to do these things, and have no doubt concerning the cure, then in accordance with your faith, ^D

the outcome of your petition shall follow you." The woman heard this, and having groaned from the depths of her soul, and with passionate emotion, cried out with a loud voice: "I believe, Lord, to whom all things are plain and manifest. Heal my affliction; heal this grievous, multi-suffering evil. I cannot bear these pains, which penetrate to the very heart of me, and are bringing forth death." Seeing her thus rendered exceedingly distressed, he ordered her to show the place of the affliction. And indeed, having placed his hand upon the wound, and then signing it with the sign of the cross, he said, "O woman, I know that your affliction is grievous, and difficult to heal. Nevertheless, faith conquers the affliction, and hope reaps the cure. Go, therefore, in peace; your wound is healed, and the pain is lulled to sleep." At the same time as he said these things, the affliction ceased in the woman, and the breast was shown to be entirely whole. She, then, having enjoyed such grace in part, became a herald to all of the divine and wondrous power of healings concerning the great Patapius. ^B

VIII. By the claw the lion is known; by such things as these, therefore, Patapius may be known to us. For such as were the things performed by him, these things are able to show. If I were to desire to tell the multitude of them, I would require much time and many words. But just as with a seal—while it is one and the same—there is no need to inquire anxiously concerning the power it possesses, whether the things it imprints are many or few; so, too, here, there is no need for us to worry over the multitude, for the grace is similar and the power is the same. Therefore, we must now turn to their departure, and let the end of his life be the end of our discourse.

IX. This great man of God, and living exemplar of true virtue, having adorned his own life with good deeds and miracles, when he was about to depart—or rather, to return to his own city—and the sign from heaven appeared, there were present with him all those devoted to asceticism and lovers of virtue, affected by grief and weeping, considering his departure to be a common bereavement, naming life without him a common death, overcome in their reason by their passion, and breaking out into open tears, and complaining of the separation, saying: "O most beloved Father, O sweetest Father, why have you shown yourself, through your haste to depart, as one who does not love his children? Why, Father, are you procuring desolation for your children? Why are you departing to another country? Why did you not move us there first, if there is any power to do so? Who is there after you who will soothe our pain, heal the body, and medicine the soul with word, life, and miracle? What hope is there from now on? What consolation for your children? Alas! How shall we bear this blow, how shall we bear this calamity?" ^C

X. These things, indeed, they lamented tragically, as each was affected by the suffering. But he, showing himself to be strong and not eager for life in the face of death, and leaning affectionately toward those who stood around him, gently lifted his eyes, and looking toward them, said: "Not so, most beloved children; do not thus accompany your Father with tears, but rather with prayers. For the former harms both you and me, but the latter provides"

provide aid. Having thus calmed their lamentations and weeping, and having discoursed to them at length philosophizing about the soul and the life hereafter, and having given to all ^A instructions befitting each one's age and rank, and having then also offered prayer, he was carried, as it were, into sleep, and yielded up that pure soul. His ascetic and holy remains, having been shrouded by holy hands, were received by the holy temple of the Forerunner, many accompanying them and glorifying the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and always, and for the ages of ages. Amen.

MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY MARTYRS MENAS, HERMOGENES, AND EUGRAPHUS

I. After the advent of the Savior Christ on earth, many others indeed stripped themselves for the contests of martyrdom; with all of these, the great Menas also stripped himself. For when Diocletian and Maximian held great power and were terrible to all, desiring to breathe against piety and to assault the faith in Christ—which He Himself declared would remain stronger than the gates of Hades—after having brought much zeal to this and moved every stone, since they knew they were attempting ^B impossibilities, and as it is said, were shooting into the air or attempting to move things that are immovable, each of them laid down the empire. Before others, they pretexted the satiety of fortune and the love of change; but to those with whom they were able to communicate secrets and open their minds, they revealed the power of Christ and the persuasion that resulted from the signs; and because, having been unable to accomplish this, they deemed other things secondary and trivial, they were not even willing to rule.

II. When, therefore, they had thus laid down the empire, Maxentius was appointed by them over Rome, Constantius over the Gauls, and Maximinus over the East as emperors. There was then immediately in the East a great persecution against the Christians, and a confusion of common affairs, and simply a very great disturbance and sedition on land and at sea, with Maximinus ^C being eager to uphold the deception of his forefathers and their false religion; but from the earth…

and, if possible, to remove the affairs of the Christians from it and take them away entirely from the midst. When it was reported to him that the whole of Alexandria—that illustrious city in Egypt—was stirring up sedition both on its own account, for the sake of public affairs, and once again on account of the preaching of Christ ^B having arrived there, it seemed good to him, upon consideration, since he could not be present himself to reconcile the city, to restrain the preaching by edicts for the time being, and to resolve the disputes, both public and civil, that were occurring. But when the variance of those who were seditious and the argument of the preaching appeared to surpass the effectiveness of the edicts, these matters were reported back to the emperor. He was immediately very greatly displeased at the contempt shown for his decrees, and he was enraged at the setting aside of the ancestral gods.

III. ^B Taking, therefore, the defection of such a great city as his pretext for wrath, at that time he restrained his impulse, out of respect for those in the Church who were among the magistrates; but later, when he was alone in this concern, and knowing that it was necessary for him to remain in Byzantium for the sake of public business, and that it was inexpedient for him to leave it to travel to Alexandria, he sent to them a man named Menas, an Athenian by race, one of the senate, and one who had advanced through the discipline of the Greeks. He was a man who, while being most highly practiced in other learning, was also in the art of rhetoric—which deals with trials ^C and arguments—proved to be unconquerable; and, to speak concisely, he was most ready in speech, but most prudent in listening, while concealing his religion for the time being, and secretly following the way of the Christians, up to that time simulating the emperor’s will. For he feared, because those contests are dangerous, to come forward of his own accord for martyrdom. The emperor, therefore, sent him to Alexandria with great speed, so that he might resolve the entanglements of political affairs and reconcile those who had moved to sedition on account of them; but more importantly, and as a more timely matter, so that by his zeal for the ancestral religion, the art of speech, and the loftiness of his spirit, he might expel the preaching of Christ from the city, ^D and teach again the imperial religion, subjecting to punishments those who had abjured it.

IV. He, having taken up the authority and the weight of such great affairs, after having been in the city for a short time, by the necessities of his art and the power of his nature, more easily resolved the matters in dispute and restored to the citizens their ancient peace, and to the city its power and tranquility in all things, so that he rarely had need of the tribunal, and indeed not even once of lashes. But when he saw that the city had come to an agreement in other matters, but that it still remained in disagreement regarding the belief in the new doctrine, having written all these things briefly to the emperor, he himself turned immediately to the preaching of Christ. Having become alone and understanding how easily

^A he might lately have persuaded the whole city to piety, and that since he had suffered martyrdom at another time, he would have carried off the crown for himself alone, but today he would receive the reward for those who were struggling; and gazing toward such crowns, he determined to refute their deception even more, to turn the city away from the error of the Greeks, and to persuade everyone to learn piety, to make himself manifest, and to provide to others the occasions for struggles as handles. For when he perceived that the multitude neither heeded bare exhortations, and accounted them with suspicion, but were easily captured by the faith which is proved by works, teaching but a few things—and that only when he saw them asking and desiring to learn—but leading them for the most part through signs, he thus in a brief time transferred them to the hidden truth, so that all were ready to overthrow the images of the demons ^B and the altars, and if it were permitted, to die for Christ with a ready and eager spirit.

For as he, having put off, as it were, the pomp of his rank along with public affairs, traversed the whole forum with a decorous and moderate gait, and the whole populace almost followed him out of reverence for his office and for the signs and healings, it happened by some chance that he would either chance upon the sick or encounter those whose bodies were maimed in some part; he was immediately seen to be moved with pity, and he would lay his hands upon them, and call upon Christ, and seal them with the sign of the cross. But these, though they were lame, immediately leaped up in the sight of all; the deaf and blind immediately saw and heard; the mute spoke, and the demon-possessed were healed.

V. Now when these things were thus being effectively ^C performed and done, and the blessed Menas prayed, yet all kinds of miracles concurred with his invocations (for it was manifest to those who were present who it was that solely being named brought about miracles, and that it was none other than Christ God), the whole city suddenly breaking forth from the deception of their ancestors in which they had been nurtured, and mocking their ancestral gods greatly, saying many things against the emperor, and cursing most grievously both those who worship and the things that are worshipped, and abjuring with their whole soul the impiety of their parents, all of a sudden became of one tongue and mind with the martyr. And they clung to his soul, considering his words to be the words of God, ^D and recognizing his words alone as the words of life, while a few closed their eyes to the signs and were deaf to the recognition. But who were these? Those by whom the festival of the demons, which was celebrated at the altars, was held in high esteem because of the revelry and drunkenness, and the lying-in-wait and the intemperance; and yet the honest and venerable things of the Christians were held in contempt because of their continent and passionless life and the incorporeal life lived within a body. When, therefore, these sons of darkness and perdition, not bearing the abandonment of their error and the disgrace of their own idols, sought to take vengeance on the saint for the injury done to them, and on the people for its

^A insult to the gods, yet they feared the rush of the multitude. They reported these things secretly to the emperor, so that, by especially kindling his anger and bringing him entirely to the point of judgment, and by making him, who was besieged by perplexity and rage, quickly become the avenger of this daring act, they scattered the name "Galilean" everywhere throughout the letter, along with the abrogation of his lordship and of the gods, and the mockery and ridicule toward both, and the absolute apostasy of the city.

^B VI. Maximinus, however, having read the letters, was immediately filled with shame and sorrow in his soul. For he was grieved because of the loss to the city, having considered how his empire was being mutilated, and how great a portion of his power was being taken away from him. He was ashamed, seeing himself overcome, and his gods being treated with contumely. When he had pretended that the confusion of soul and the sadness of countenance which had taken hold of him were merely intense thought and deliberation on what was expedient—since he could not for long hold out against this storm—he immediately became manifest and was convicted by his agitation of spirit, and broke out openly into rage. Having therefore uttered many blasphemies against Christ, and having condemned the blessed Menas for error, and having added that it was impossible for men to discern and judge a man accurately, but that those who have nothing to allege against their own benefactors are committing an unpardonable sin—for these, by preparing to render vain the hopes which their benefactors had placed in them, are guilty—he rose, in the meantime leaving the solution of these urgent matters pending.

In the morning of the following day, he convened the magistrates, and having deliberated with them in common, and seeing that all were of one mind regarding a certain Hermogenes, a man noble and illustrious, and in other respects not bad—for he was temperate and good to the poor, and, as the Apostle says, "not having the law, did by nature the things of the law" (Rom. II, 14), though he was still ignorant of the power of Christ, and had not been perfected by His baptism, even if he was inadvertently walking on the way which is of Christ, and was indeed His sheep, but not yet marked, and had not yet ^D received the seal of union and fellowship—since therefore these qualities were present in the man, and he was himself also an Athenian by lineage, and most accurately trained in Greek education, and had grown dense in sagacity through both experience and nature, and approached speaking in such a way that he seemed to have come having meditated on this, and for these reasons appeared suitable for the complications and circumstances of the affairs that had then arisen, the emperor himself added his approval to this; and seeing that the whole council had concurred in this, he immediately removed the blessed Menas from the governorship, as a cause of reproach and ignominy, even while he was absent; and he dispatched Hermogenes, who was at that time the prefect of the city, ordering him to examine both the great Menas

^A and the city, in order to rescue it from error, as it seemed to him; and he gave him no small band to accompany him from Byzantium, and a still larger one from Alexandria to serve him.

VII. Hermogenes, therefore, while already sailing on his voyage to Alexandria, and surrounded on all sides by many ministers and guards, fell as it were into a trance during his sleep, and saw three luminous men, who said to him: "See, Hermogenes, how God does not despise even a small undertaking." And when he asked, "And what is this small undertaking?" they replied, taking up his words, "Your incomplete intention, the path you were on which looked toward the shipwreck of many, He has made for you a provider of glory and immortal honors. Save, therefore, these good tidings within yourself, keeping them from forgetfulness; for through this journey of yours you shall soon have the true and eternal King. Moreover, you shall obtain from us ourselves such a man, through whom you may easily become a friend to this King, and attain to an advancement which he who reigns today is unable to give you." ^B And when the night had finally reached the last crowing of the cocks, Hermogenes immediately cast off at once both the sleep and the agitation from that nocturnal vision. Being unable to interpret what he had seen, he suspected the vision to be simply a dream, announcing to him an unexpected change of affairs on the spot, and glory perhaps more lasting than before, but still earthly.

After a few days, having completed that long voyage and having reached the harbors of Alexandria with a calm tide, he disembarked from the ship and immediately gave himself entirely to executing the mandates and commands of the Emperor. For since the Emperor had indeed commanded many things to the prefect against the blessed Menas, and the entire city had met him on the shore, and drums and praises and trumpets resounded in his reception, and there was one voice of those praising, ^C exalting him who had been sent by the Emperor, while the prefect himself had arranged his guards as in a phalanx and ordered his attendants to proceed in front, he entered the city with such astonishment and admiration of all, as might have appeared to those who were then present to move the very earth itself, through his meditation on affairs and his most diligent zeal in all things, and his firm and inflexible habit of mind, hoping both to administer rightly the honor commanded by the Emperor, and to subvert the steps ^D of those who were not firm.

VIII. But when in the evening he was by himself, the crowd that had escorted him having been dismissed, the great Menas perceived that when men are by themselves—and especially those who are illustrious and notable—they endure reproofs, and, when they are refuted regarding things that have often seemed to them right, they bear it; but when they are in an assembly and a gathered multitude, they are distressed at being refuted, and persist stubbornly in what they have held to be true. He, considering this most excellently, and that although Hermogenes was a most learned man, he was not yet capable of grasping the height of the dogma, and how, if he were to go to the tribunal in such a state without having been pre-catechized in the

^A truth, neither the skill of his speech, nor the strength of his nature, nor the fervor of his spirit in its lordly pride would be only an obstacle to the delivery of piety, but would also suffice to corrupt such a city, and especially regarding a faith that had only lately been planted, so as to destroy and root out its pious seeds, he entered before the prefect with a moderate disposition and demeanor, and greeting him, said: "Grace be to the one and great God. For by His providence, it seems, you, a man lofty and illustrious, have now for the first time left the great and first and imperial city, to visit this, the farthest and smallest." ^B And as the Saint was already about to set before him a discourse regarding piety, or rather, first to dispel his base preconceptions concerning the gods, the prefect, since he had heard of the one God, and in order that he not be made liable to slanderers as one who admitted and held discourse with the enemies of the Emperor, and also being fierce in character and seeking the imperial favor through harshness toward the Saint and concealing his own progress, broke off the speech and ordered him to be seized immediately and kept in custody, saying only to those standing by: "When tomorrow comes, this foolish initiate of the Galilean shall know what kind of friend I am to the enemies of the Emperors and the gods, and whether there is one God or many."

IX. And simply put, the things awaiting him were terrible in the eyes of all. ^C But on the next day, a tribunal having been set up for him, with all the people watching and the guard standing by, the magistrate himself sat in his seat and ordered the Saint to stand forth. When this was done, and the martyr stood by with a bright face and an intrepid posture of soul, the prefect said: "It is just, O Menas, for every man to honor kings, and to worship their gods, and furthermore to be grateful to one's benefactors; or do you yourself teach openly what one ought to do regarding these things." ^D The Saint replied: "To that extent, prefect," he said, "is it proper to be grateful to benefactors, as long as the gratitude is useful both to the one who is grateful and to him toward whom this is done. But when, on the contrary, it brings great loss to both, then it is necessary, having cast aside the benevolence that comes with loss, to prefer those things which yield benefit. Now, it is holy to honor kings for the sake of their power and sovereignty; but when they are not rightly and soundly disposed toward God, who is the first Sovereign, nor accord to Him the honor as is fitting, I would not say that such men ought to be honored. Moreover, one must not worship their gods simply without having first examined whether they are truly able to do all that it is proper for a God to be able to do, and whether, though they exist in generation and at a beginning, they are endless and immortal. If, however, they lack anything of these, one ought to despise them; for how could an imperfect being be God? Rather, with fervent desire and purity of soul, one must seek God, who is truly God."

X. "I, therefore, as you yourself know, O prefect, when..."

I was an Athenian and had long honored my ancestral law, having lost my parents at a tender age, and being—I know not how—a student of an industrious mind, I decided to traverse the entire mythical learning of the Greeks. And in a short space of time this was accomplished by me, and I thoroughly mastered all their science and art. But later, having learned that there were certain Scriptures among the Christians, I made it a point to look into them as well. Having looked into them, then—I cannot even say how much—I discerned ^A a utility hidden within them, and comparing them with Greek learning, I found a great difference, and that they conflict with one another as if diametrically opposed. In the former, there is virtue and truth; in the latter, error and wickedness. For the Scriptures among the Christians represent ^B the powers of Christ as becoming to God, and simple, and consistent with the divine nature and with themselves; but those of the Greeks introduce a divinity subject to human passions, and are full of lies, full of passions, and pregnant with debauchery and disorder, having gods who fight among themselves, who are defeated and wounded by mortal men, those upon whom death falls, and who are full of countless other evils and fables. And to sum it up: the end of the former is salvation and the knowledge of the true God, while the end of the latter is manifest destruction and a leading toward shameful passions and the discovery of error.

"Although the Scriptures of the Christians were such, I did not immediately decide to follow them, but I sought an experience ^C of the power of Christ, so that I might be taught the truth by deed. And having encountered a man whose limbs of the body were maimed, I said that this was a stroke of good fortune for me, and I found the deed consistent with the divine words. For as soon as I invoked the name of Christ over those maimed limbs, immediately they, casting off their maiming, were transformed as if anew, and restored to their original health. Having recognized the Creator by deed, therefore, and having renounced the glory of the Greeks, and having cast off all other vanity, I have been baptized, and have become Christ's alone. From that time ^D until this day, O prefect, I cure difficult diseases and incurable passions—things it is possible only for God to heal—quickly and easily, by calling solely upon the name of Christ. And the whole populace, and this theater which surrounds us, is witness to my words. And you cannot say that these things are false and empty words; for it is possible even now to verify what is said by the deed itself."

XI. When the martyr had clearly explained the truth, the whole populace and the entire theater hung upon the tongue of the martyr from the third hour until the seventh, desiring his discourse more than food. And at length, when they saw that he had both refuted and argued against the gods of the emperor, and had demonstrated the true God, and at the same time set forth those very people as witnesses of his miracles, becoming as it were all one tongue, they said, "Do not labor more, good prefect; for we ourselves have been

witnesses of the wonders, we ourselves have enjoyed the fruits of his miracles. No falsehood creeps in, nor does any deceit underlie those things done by him. You yourself also would have known the truth, had you been present, and that it is not right to consider and worship any other God than His God." The prefect, fearing the boldness of the city, and seeing almost the entire populace having turned toward Christ and being carried away with the athlete, and guarding himself against any new thing being dared against him, and being able neither to speak against the truth, nor at the same time feeling ashamed to punish one who had so rightly expounded the word of truth—as he had rendered all who were present convinced—being full of confusion and dejection, orders the holy man to be imprisoned again. ^A He rose, then, immediately from the tribunal, and dismissed the theater, and the crowd and the entire theater flowed out from the contest; and there was a certain murmur of all, celebrating the martyr with praises. The saint, indeed, was imprisoned, but he did not have his tongue silent or restrained from hymns to Christ, even then; for he was singing, "You have saved us, O Lord, from those who afflict us, and you have put to shame those who hate us. You opened our mouth in parables, and we have spoken of problems from the beginning."

XII. ^B The prefect, however, considering how much the city had judged him from the first experience, and how much the emperor would condemn him upon learning of it, and lamenting not a little because of these things, was almost refusing food. But yet, set to thinking on his own visions, and having spent the whole night in that state of mind, when it dawned, and he heard that the theater was gathered again—and it surpassed the multitude of the day before out of a desire for the common struggle of arguments and the persuasiveness of the athlete—saying that all other things were of secondary concern, he sat upon the tribunal. All the guards stood around, astonished, and every instrument of torture was placed before his eyes, he himself having ordered this, so as to strike fear into the martyr. ^C When things were thus, and the holy man was brought in tied with ropes, the prefect said, "Tell me, you cursed one, by what fortune relying have you proceeded to such a point of boldness as to persuade the people to turn away from the power of the emperor, and to speak openly against the gods, and to think your own thoughts, and thus suddenly to cling to your own tongue and intent, and, being accused of worshipping strange rites, to have practiced freedom and tyranny?" To this the holy man said, ^D "That I do not affect tyranny, O prefect, this modest bearing, in which you have found me, has answered for me before myself. As for the people, I did not persuade them myself to defect, but the zeal of God, who was recognized by them through the signs. And I spoke against your gods and the emperor's, because it behooves every man, when he has detected a falsehood with reason and judgment, to recoil from it, but the truth to worship—

But the truth among men, Prefect, is Christ, who is beyond challenge.

^A XIII. The Prefect said: "That is how it seems to you, you madman. That it is not right to honor and worship the Crucified, and that all the things said by you yesterday were nonsense and empty talk, will become manifest from this very instant. For when I have cut off or burned some member of yours, if you, who worship Christ, cannot restore it, how could you be seen by others to have truly imparted these things, when you are not able to grant them to yourself?" And the whole crowd nodded in agreement with this. The saint said: "I pray, Prefect, that you may receive a testing of Christ in me. For I am confident that, once you have immediately laid aside the rank you now wear, you yourself shall also be seen as one of those who are governed by Christ." The Prefect, therefore, wishing both ^B to avenge his own anger and hoping also to refute the saint before all on account of what he had said, commands that the fleshy part of the soles of his feet, upon which each of his bases is set, be flayed with swords, and that he stand thus upon his bare bones to provide answers regarding the gods, so that, being struck in the heart most severely by the sharpness of the pains, he might be easily hindered in giving responses and resolving the questions. But the saint, while his flesh was being mercilessly severed by the swords, and every vein surrounding it was being torn apart, and whatever nerves were knit together for the purpose of controlling movement were being pulled asunder, ^C groaned only a little—with grace in a certain way withdrawing and testing the athlete, but also providing him with opportunities for crowns; for crowns are clearly the fruits of labors—but he endured against the pains as though Grace were present all the more, supporting him and lightening the sensation of his sufferings. And when he was released from the torture, the saint immediately leaped up and stood erect upon the bare bones, chanting, "My foot has stood in uprightness; in the churches I will bless you, Lord." A large quantity of blood flowed from his footsteps on all sides; yet he himself had a cheerful countenance, while his soul flourished and was vigorous against the dangers, and his tongue was freer for reproach than it had been before. ^D Nothing at all terrified him among the instruments of torture. The theater, therefore, immediately applauded, as if victory had been achieved.

XIV. The Prefect, simultaneously thinking to avoid such rebukes and to render his adversary as if unarmed and useless—as one who would thus be easily handled by him—commands that the tongue of the martyr be cut out from his very throat. The saint said: "Even if you extinguish the pupils of my eyes, not even so shall I stumble. 'For your law, Christ, is a lamp to my feet.' I am confident, however," he said, "that once I have lost my tongue, then you shall take up a tongue that clearly proclaims the great works of Christ." After, by a certain machine and

the diligence of the ministers, the tongue was cruelly torn from the martyr’s sacred mouth, and they themselves, thrusting the blades of their irons from below, were already cutting it away. The noble man suffered ^A and was full of agony in his soul; yet he played the man and endured, and directed his whole mind toward Christ. And when the torture was at an end, the vigor of the body failed the saint, but he himself, strengthened in his soul by his yearning for Christ, quietly raised his head, spat out much of his blood, and being entirely reddened by the streams, he looked toward everyone with confidence. By his gestures, he signified to the prefect his resolve amid his sufferings, and to the people his endurance; and [he showed] that he was not only not yielding, but that he considered the experience a delight and thirsted for death. The prefect, seized with madness because he was mocking the punishment and making the people witnesses of his courage by his own gestures, gave orders for his eyes also to be cut out immediately. ^B And when those who were assigned to this task brought them [the instruments] with great speed, and immediately, taking no account of common nature, surrounded the athlete and cruelly gouged out his sacred eyes—he was in pain, for how could he not be? and he was signifying the weakness of human nature, but he endured even in this nobly, inclining his head as often as he had it free, and as if thanking the Master that he had been thought worthy of such good things. The prefect, suddenly moved in his soul and saddened at what he saw, saying only this—that the remaining part of the body must be given to the birds tomorrow so that not even some relic might be left for a memorial—and having ordered him to be kept in this way, rose from the tribunal.

^C XV. The soldiers, leading away the saint while he was still breathing a little, cast him into prison. At night, about the third hour, as if a flash of lightning had illuminated the prison, Christ appeared at the place where the saint had been cast. And first he filled him with courage and readiness; then he restored his tongue and his eyes as they were before, and having healed his feet, he revived him as if he were entirely dead. "Pay attention," he said to him, "O Menas. I am Jesus Christ, for whom you have suffered; I was not absent from you before, nor was I far from your struggles, but I was waiting for your love for me to be known to the ^D authorities and powers. Since, therefore, it is known, henceforth I shall be with you, openly defending you. As for Hermogenes the prefect, who is hostile to my name, tomorrow you shall have him as a suppliant, and after a little while even as a fellow-athlete, as is also clear to you, and one who will bear witness with you for me, and willingly suffer with you and be crowned with you. For it is unworthy of my philanthropy to overlook his goodness and good works performed in knowledge because of [his former] ignorance." Having said these things, and having ordered [him] that the Holy Spirit be preserved thus, he departed from the tribunal.

XVI. The prefect, since he himself was a man of very keen intellect and good nature, and knew that the blessed Menas was wise, illustrious in status, and, moreover, born of the same country as himself, shook off his sleep in the middle of the night. Having recovered from the anger that clouds the mind, and having reflected upon the tortures he had inflicted upon the holy man, and in contrast, what strength of soul and constancy he had displayed—having suffered or said nothing petty or ignoble—and also that the man had perished, he to whose wisdom and zeal everyone else was inferior (for he already considered him dead, as one who could not have survived such tortures). Condemning himself for not having rather won Menas over by flattery (for it would have been well if he had captured him even in that way), he filled his eyes with tears and lamented the loss. He decided, therefore, as if out of reverence for the man’s great virtue, that when he rose in the morning, he would publicly honor his remains, just as those who are kin honor the dead who are laid out, and thus make amends to the martyr for the injury he had done him. When day had already dawned, since the theater was full of Alexandrians (for it had been gathered by the heralds as the prefect had ordered), he himself took his seat and commanded that the body of the martyr be brought from the prison to the tribunal with great honor by the hands of the soldiers ^B.

XVII. But when those who had been sent arrived inside the prison, they saw a miracle that surpassed reason and thought: the darksome prison was filled with light, and two men, whose form cannot be described by words, were standing by—appearing as guards, yet as soldiers ready to defend him. They saw the martyr not only alive and preserving the wholeness of his body unharmed, but also looking on with a gentle gaze, moving his tongue, and joyfully singing: "Though I walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me, O Lord" (Ps. xxii, 4). Stupefied at once by the sight, they stood mute. But having realized in a short time that what they saw was not a fraud or a dream, but wakefulness, truth, and a certain divine power, they were changed and cried out: "Great is the God of the Christians." Immediately, therefore, casting their military swords aside and counting that judicial wrath as nothing, and condemning the governors and even the Emperor himself, they believed in Christ and decided to remain with the holy man henceforth. But because it happened that the soldiers were delayed for this reason, and the city was eager to see the body of the champion and to see what would come to pass, the theater stood full of indignation and tumult against the prefect and the soldiers ^C. The prefect, however, wishing to grant the people's desire, since he perceived that what vexed them was nothing other than the delay of the soldiers ^D

ordered many other more diligent soldiers to bring the martyr. When these too had come to the prison and had seen all those wonderful things, and heard the martyr speaking most clearly and moving his tongue eloquently; and when they saw the soldiers attending upon him as if he were some god, they were filled with amazement and rendered almost motionless by the spectacle. Immediately they too recognized that the matter was of divine power, and they stood by him with their whole soul, caring nothing for the prefect's authority, and were added to the others. ^B

XVIII. The saint, therefore, after he heard from the soldiers that the whole city was already present, esteeming the sight of great importance, and that all were ready to believe in his God if they only saw the miracles brought to pass in him, delayed not, but went out, having the soldiers following him as his guard. When the people saw him approaching the theater so healthy and whole, as if he had suffered nothing harsh or painful, and when they heard him singing, "If camps should set themselves against me, my heart shall not fear" (Ps. XXVI, 3), they suspected that what they saw was a simulation and a scenic trick. But after they cast their eyes more curiously and recognized that he was indeed Menas, seeing with his eyes, speaking with his tongue, and walking on his feet, all at once with one voice cried out, "The power of Christ has prevailed, and has prevailed even over death itself. Happy Alexandria, which through this one man has today detected such a great fraud, and having learned the truth well, [has known] that the power and strength belong ^C beyond dispute to God alone. Exult, O orator, athlete of the true God and Savior, exult." The prefect, thunderstruck by the novelty and wonder of the matter, and fearing that the theater might devise some new thing contrary to his hopes, decided to rise. But when he saw the multitude full of zeal and commotion, and heard them all shouting, "Remain, O venerable prefect; do not begrudge such a great city the greatest thing, namely, to recognize today the true God and to enter straightway into the light of truth," he himself also became wholly occupied with contemplating the wonderful thing that had happened to the martyr, and he ordered silence to the people. When he had ordered the saint to come near him, as he was very close, he studied him. For the things seen seemed somehow like dreams to him, as though he had not yet had experience of Christ. But after the executioners who were standing by and all the other retinue of guards, and even the prefect himself, examined each thing with their own hands—a faith in the miracle that cannot be contradicted—then all who were standing around, and the prefect himself also, were struck dumb. ^D

XIX. When much time had passed, the greater part of the

^A shock having been shaken off by the prefect and his composure recovered, he said to the holy man: “Tell me, O man, truthfully by your God, what is the meaning of these things? And what are these wonders that have taken place? For these things can be done by God alone, and by no one else.” The saint, having in a short summary instructed those present concerning the beginningless Source, God, and having spoken of the necessity and most saving power of the Cross, and in short having clarified for them the entire mystery of the economy of the flesh, concluded at the end: “God, therefore, O Prefect, being good and philanthropic, and having descended to earth for the sake of the salvation of men, does not wish for any at all of all men to perish or ^B to fall away from eternal goods; but just as a mother, after the pains of birth, provides for her child in every way, yet endures the child’s imperfections and the insults that come from him—not because she is angered toward the child on account of this (for she is overcome by her maternal affections, and strongly yearns to see him having reached perfection, shining in some glory and brilliance)—so too God provides even after creation, and as a Father endures the faults committed against Him on account of ignorance, and being overcome rather by His own compassion, He is kindly and philanthropic, desiring nothing else than that we enter into His glory, having reached a perfect man, unto a measure of spiritual stature, as Paul teaches us, of the fullness of Christ. ^C Since, therefore, the Savior saw you led astray by the lures of the demons toward the true knowledge of Himself, and provoking Him to jealousy with no-gods, and angering Him with your idols, and not fearing His might and power, in His care for you, He has today exposed in me the error of your worship and the zeal which is not according to knowledge, as you here present also acknowledge with me. Let each of you, therefore, consider in me the power of Christ, reckoning that a man already looking toward old age, and having lost the greater part of his body, and indeed all his strength, from torments, and having been cast into prison like one dead, I am present now before you, whole, unharmed, nothing lessened, as if brought into the light again and born again stronger. And if anyone wishes to find the One who is truly God, ^D having recognized Him who today has granted me a tongue and feet and eyes, let him believe that it is He who from the beginning bestowed also the other things, the light itself, and the reason, and the motion to things that move. Do not, therefore, persist for long, most brilliant Prefect, being a man of understanding, in ignoring the One who cares for you and awaits your conversion. For it is necessary for you also yourself to run to Christ, as it has also been made known to me by Him, and rejoice, for you are about to approach a good and eternal King, and to prepare yourself to enter the stadium of martyrdom with me.” XX. The Prefect, as one having a good soul, was well-disposed

^A toward the truth, and especially when the grace of God had touched the eyes of his soul, he began to understand—partly from the words and partly from the miracle—the true God, and slowly to admit the splendor of piety. Thinking also of the vision he had previously seen while sailing, and how the God who had appeared wished him to be numbered among His ministers and friends, he rejoiced as though at a great matter; yet he doubted how he, who had for so long a time cleaved to error, had suddenly been deemed worthy to be reconciled to such a God.

While he was turning these things over by himself, divine grace, calling him still more toward acknowledgment, offered him more brilliant signs of the truth. ^B He sees, with a few others, two men standing around the holy man, similar in form to lightning and winged, causing great terror to those who beheld them, as they were ready to defend him, and they were binding his head with a crown. When he had communicated to others what he was seeing, he found that they had seen the same vision. Since there was nothing to doubt, he suddenly stood up, leaped from his seat, and shouted to the crowd, “He is truly a servant of the true God,” pointing with his hand toward the holy man; “and great is He who teaches us to worship the true God, who so wonderfully and contrary to expectation ^C breaks the athletes of their own, but from heaven, as you see, grants them victories and defends them, bringing them intellectual aid. I, however, was foolish and given over to evil demons, and I wanted to persuade you of the same, you who wished correctly to obey Christ.”

XXI. Saying these things, he was indeed ready to run and to grasp the feet of the martyr, but he was held back for a long time by the terror and the spectacle of the angels. Then, the angels suddenly vanished. ^D He then ran up, and grabbing the holy feet, kissed them sweetly, and said to him, “Pray, O true servant of God, pray, I beseech you, by the very truth you preach: pray that I also, an unworthy servant, may serve your God. Now I have perceived from these events, from the spectacles, what kind of attendants those have who genuinely approach Christ, and whence come to them the rewards of their labors, and that they are escorted by certain strange and terrible attendants, as you are. They even pushed us away for a time, as though we were wicked and profane, and kept us at a distance; yet, finally, showing humanity, they yielded to your holiness and purity. And I fear lest Christ should repel me, even as I approach and ask—and seek this great thing, which surpasses our merits—to be enrolled in the number of His lowest servants. Nevertheless, I consider it a great matter indeed, if I have attained such a God, to pay the penalties for my former error and madness.”

XXII. The holy man said, “Take heart, most illustrious Prefect, and do not doubt at all concerning the clemency of God. For I, having myself experienced the

^A beneficence of God, and knowing Him to be humane and merciful, and moved to pity by the frailties of men, have confidence that He will not only not reject you when you approach, but, having accepted this your sincere faith, He has already written your name in the book of life, and that He has ordained, so far as I am able to know, that you should through martyrdom glorify His divine name with me.” Having spoken thus, and having learned that the people had remained the whole day fasting, and seeing them standing upright in admiration of the things which were being seen, and still desiring to remain, and to behold his countenance, and hear his words, he promised to be present in the morning, and immediately departed, and dismissed the theater. But the Prefect did not even then endure to depart from the martyr, but passed the whole night with him as he invoked [God], being more accurately instructed by him in the word of truth through catechesis. ^B And when it was morning, and so great a multitude of people was gathered that the place of the theater could not even contain them, and the holy man was about to ascend to the platform with the Prefect for the public address, a great multitude of the Gentiles, having met the holy man by design, said as if with one mouth: “We all believe in the God who is preached by you, and we already renounce all things, and have determined to serve and minister to Him alone.” The holy man, having given thanks to God, and having praised the multitude for their quick conversion, and having said that to believe immediately upon hearing, and not to delay by hesitating in one’s thoughts, is not unrewarded before God, and that, being soon baptized, they would be participants in the gifts of Christ, ascended together with the Prefect and stood.

XXIII. But after looking upon the people, he said, “May God ^C make you perfect with His seal, and show you useful to Himself for every work,” and urged each one to ask and learn concerning God what he wished. The Prefect then, with all the people, said, “Concerning your God, most holy one, there is no doubt in us. We have clearly known all things, and have believed all that has been said by you. We seek only one thing: to be joined to God through baptism.” When the people saw that the Prefect had consented, they said, “Truly, God is no respecter of persons, in that He has restored to the Prefect the knowledge of Himself, and has rewarded him with the true worship of God, on account of the moderation and care which he exercised toward the poor.”

And when there were present there certain pious and religious bishops from the cities round about, who were thirteen in all—some having come solely to see the ^D struggles of the martyr, others having descended from the desert in order to visit the faithful who were in the city—and water also having been brought, as the holy man had ordered, the holy man himself having descended from the elevated place, and having caused the Prefect to bow his head to the God-beloved bishops, and those [bishops] to pour the water upon his head and to say, “Hermogenes receives the laver of regeneration in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” he thus caused him to be baptized before the whole people. To that

^A the people responded, praising Christ with many exclamations.

XXIV. Since the regeneration of the prefect required a celebration, and it was impossible to satisfy such a great multitude, the saint dismissed the theater. Then, turning to the bishops, he said, “It is not right that the Church should be deprived of such a man, who is so industrious, and modest, and of such lofty intellect.” For this reason, and because of their great reverence for the saint, when they found that Hermogenes raised no objection, they enlisted him into the ranks of the clergy. Then, having passed through all the ecclesiastical orders in due course, they established him as bishop of the city. ^B And after his ordination, on the seventh day, having gathered together all the gold and other possessions he had, and having bid farewell to the luxuries, vanities, and other things in which the souls of those who delight in the world take pleasure, he gave it all into the hands of the poor. Having counted all other things as insignificant, he armed himself with the entire multitude for the war to be waged against the demons, seeking to take strong vengeance upon them for his former life and their error; and in a short time, having overturned their shrines and altars, and having cast down every idol, he fixed the cross everywhere, established altars ^C in the name of Christ, and prepared the name of Christ to be worshipped. And the crowds who subsequently fell at his feet, asking to be baptized, he baptized, so many daily that their number could not easily be reckoned. As for the demon-possessed, or those oppressed by other maladies, by the sole invocation of Christ he freed them immediately from the demon and from the illness; and he always taught them to embrace chastity, and pious worship of God, humility, charity, gentleness, and the virtue of possessing nothing, and placed himself before those being taught as an example of other virtues as well.

XXV. When not many days had passed, and the whole city had come to one mind, and all had become one flock of Christ, a certain man, ^D superstitious and one of the senate, by the name of Rusticius, feeling envious of the city and of us Christians—and at the same time valuing the drunkenness at the altars and other licentiousness more than the abstinence and moderation that exists among the Christians—being filled with anger and wrath, ran with haste to the emperor and briefly recounted everything. “All sacrifice has been abolished,” he said, “the majesty of the gods has been insulted, the temples have been overturned, every altar of the gods has been cast down, and in short,” he reported the destruction of the gods and the change of the prefect; and how the prefect Hermogenes, induced by the old friendship and political advantage he held with the eloquent Menas, had persuaded almost the whole empire to turn to the Crucified One; “and already Christ is worshipped everywhere without fear. And the whole of Alexandria has gone after him.” Having said these things, in order to provoke him all the more and to incite him to punishment against the Christians, he added that,

and adds: Unless this is a matter of great concern to you, and the affairs of the Christians are overturned by you while the affairs of the gods are restored to their pristine state, I know that your empire will be overthrown with great speed, and the kingdom of Him who is called Christ will be firmly established. ^B XXVI. When Maximinus heard this—that his own empire would fall and that Christ’s kingdom would rise—he praised and honored Rusticius for his benevolence both toward himself and toward the gods. Having become, however, exceedingly fierce against the prefect and the entire city, and more indignant than was expedient, he decided to set out at once for Alexandria himself with great zeal and preparation, having ordered ten thousand fighting men to accompany him for this purpose, saying: "It is likely that the common people, moved by the mere reverence for emperors, will honor the gods whom they deem worthy of worship, and will curb their other wickedness. For if this were not so, as the present state of affairs proves, evils would be committed without any shame, and no one would even strive to remain hidden. Nevertheless, through the providence of the gods, when I reach Alexandria, I shall both punish these people and correct my own ignorance, having cast far away the error regarding the Crucified." He spoke, and allowed not much time to pass in between, but, setting aside all public business, he arrived in Alexandria with great speed and immediately ordered the holy ones to be seized. And in the morning, with the whole city watching and a military force standing by, he sat upon the tribunal and ordered them to be brought in naked. ^C XXVII. As soon as he saw them brought in, he cried out with a loud voice: "O gods," he said, "what is this to be—that he, for whom I have shown such care, and to whom I entrusted the highest magistracies, which I entrusted to no other of those who submit to us, has of his own accord despised everything, fled to such an obscure and abject fortune, and has even shorn the hair of his head, being no better disposed than mimes and buffoons who move the audience to laughter in the theater?" Approaching Hermogenes more closely, he said: "Tell me, o unhappy man, for what reason did I entrust to you the command of the entire land and sea, and decree that you should hold the magistracy without a successor? Was it not so that you might be benevolent to the gods—in no way ever disowning them, if anything were to happen—and also benevolent to us? And so that you, being a learned and wise man, might bring back to the ancestral religion this man—a scholar and a wise man who, puffed up beyond measure by a prosperous breath of fortune, has therefore slipped into error—by your skill, experience, and the persuasion of your words? What, then, moved you, or what did you see, that you allowed him to continue longer in vanity, and not only did you not bring him back from error, but you became a partner in his same evil opinion, and furthermore, you fool, you shaved your head and have been reckoned as one of those in the theater, the actors?" When the emperor had proceeded to such a point of anger and bitterness, and had looked upon them wrathfully and furiously, God looked auspiciously upon the martyrs, ^D and angels appeared to them immediately,

^A filling them with strength and anointing them for the contests, and exhorting them not to fear the emperor’s anger, for the victory was to be theirs.

^B XXVIII. Hermogenes immediately replied: If you will patiently hear me, most wise emperor, for what reason and having seen what, I gladly cast away the honors considered first among you, and with a prompt and eager spirit descended to this fortune—to be willing to seem foolish, poor, ridiculous, and inglorious, and to be called rather Christ's, and therefore to be gladly accused of error and ignorance, and to be ready to despise the sword, the fire, and wild beasts for Christ, and to thirst for death on His account rather than for life—as my entire council bears witness for me, and especially since the matter is before your eyes, caring much for the truth, and so that I might not omit anything pertinent, I will say what you yourself have asked. The emperor said: I desire this entirely, and nothing else, if you yourself do not prefer falsehood to truth, holding this in higher honor because of necessity. Hermogenes said: It was my zeal, best of emperors, while I was acting boldly and insolently against Christ, and wishing to worship those gods whom I once worshipped, and also to observe your power—as you yourself know, having come to the city with such pomp and display—to bring the man back, partly by flatteries, partly indeed by fear, to this ancestral impiety that was then prevailing, in such a way that I might say that not even you yourself came against us today with such [force], and that not even you, had you been there, would have despaired of being able to overcome the man. And all this people bears witness to me how variable I was from the beginning, flattering, threatening, terrifying, transforming myself into every manner [of approach], so that I might lead the man away from piety. For I, a fool, did not know into what kind of man I had fallen—how fearless and strong, and how he possessed a tongue free for replies, but a soul prepared for enduring the threatened tortures, and finally for suffering all things rather than denying Christ. But to omit other things, when I saw him refusing to worship the gods, and caring neither for authority nor for any consideration of punishments or torments, ^C but rather arguing with such persuasiveness and aptitude for conviction that I myself was conquered by his intellect, while the gods were being refuted, and the entire people were agreeing with him and feeling the same about religion, I thought to torture him shortly after with such torments that, if I were able, I might perfectly overcome the man; if not, I would at least restrain his prompt and eager spirit, and impede the power of his speech. It seemed fit to me, therefore, to cut away the soles of his feet with swords down to the very bones, and to excise that eloquent tongue by which all things were being overcome; and in addition to these, also to gouge out his eyes, so that, having become sluggish through the darkness of his eyes, and having stumbled ^D through the pain of his feet, he might be more slow...

^A to reply, but weaker to resist. The executioners, therefore, as soon as they heard the command, did everything. But the man, having been immediately exposed as a human and enduring nothing more than common nature can bear, when he was led off to prison, was truly dead. However, feeling pity for the man (for I will confess the truth), as he was learned and a fellow citizen, and grieving in my soul that a man possessing such eloquence and wisdom had perished so wretchedly, I ordered his lifeless body to be brought early in the morning, wishing to see to what point the constancy of such a man had turned.

^B XXIX. But when I saw him, after he had been summoned, walking correctly and looking clearly, and then heard him discoursing plainly, I seemed to myself to be seeing a specter and a hollow dream, and I immediately closed my eyes, detesting the very image of the enemy of the gods. But having descended from my throne, and having curiously investigated the vision together with others, and not trusting alone in my eyes, but also examining and touching him with my hands, I learned that it was Menas himself; I was immediately overcome by the truth, having my conscience as a truthful witness. But, O Emperor, he is also present himself; let the people speak of the tortures, but do you yourself also inquire as you wish, since the miracle is before your eyes. But tell me, by your gods, O Emperor, if someone had seen Christ, as I myself saw him, suddenly reshaping and animating a whole man, and from this indeed confirming his own power, namely that these things are of none other than God, and that he is the one who first created man, and promising also to those who follow him in the heavens an eternal kingdom, and here on earth the ability to do as much as he alone can: if someone, having learned and seen these things, were to despise being and being called a friend of such a God, and were to despise being able to do and change all things which God alone can ^C, and to make the blind see, the lame walk, to move mountains, and to raise the dead, and to speak collectively, to move the entire creation by word and nod alone; and then also to have a pledge that he will rejoice and reign forever—who, having abandoned him, and having closed his eyes to such great blessedness, had chosen to worship your gods and to be consul and emperor, what would such a man seem to you? Not truly a fool? Not of unsound mind, and far from understanding what is advantageous?

XXX. Therefore, O Emperor, I have abhorred your error, and your fables, and your gods, and having renounced all this apparent happiness, I have fled to God alone, and I preferred, as you yourself said, to be wretched, choosing rather to appear a fool than to be one. And so you have already learned our case from what you have heard. But if you wish to learn the matters of Christ by experience, do not delay. Devise quickly some great and severe torture against us; and if perchance you are lacking anything for devising punishments, I, having progressed to the highest experience by great practice in these matters, ^D thoseことも

^A that remain, I shall call to memory. Cast him to the beasts, push him down a precipice, overwhelm him in the sea, bury him in the earth, cut him with a sword, burn him with fire; devise a fitting punishment for each of his members. For thus did I also, having been blind but a short time ago, treat my own light and my guide to the truth, Menas."

Now the populace, since Hermogenes had spoken with such skill and boldness, were struck with amazement at his courage and his power of eloquence. The emperor, however, because he could neither contradict what had been said (for the people bore witness, and the miracle stood before his very eyes) and at the same time reflecting that if he were to enter into a verbal contest, he himself would be put to shame and his gods would be refuted, being filled with doubt and grief, ordered the saint's hands and feet—the former from the shoulders, the latter from the knees—to be cut off with a sword, and while he looked on, to be thrown into the fire. Then, when they had struck his belly with a pike and caused all his entrails to gush out, he ordered them to cast what still remained of him, yet breathing, into the river that flowed past the city.

The lictors, therefore, bearing naked swords and looking cruel, being terrible even to behold, immediately surrounded the saint; they first cruelly cut off his hands and then, in turn, inhumanly cut off his feet. He, however, though he labored, overcome by frequent pains, yet showed himself so brave as if he were not suffering himself, but rather viewing others undergoing punishments.

^B XXXI. But after he saw his own members reduced to ashes by the fire, raising his head a little and looking toward the furnace, he said: "How happy am I, that my hands, which I once stretched out to strange gods, and my feet, which walked in error, God today receives as an offering sacrificed to Him." Immediately, then, the soldiers, after the amputation of the hands and feet, proceeded to his belly; they struck it with a pike, and the entrails flowed out. He himself was already failing, and although he preserved but a feeble breath, he remained as brave of spirit as if he had only just begun the contest. When, therefore, the soldiers had taken him, while he was still breathing, as they had been commanded, they drowned him in the river.

After Maximinus had at last with difficulty laid aside his concern about the martyr Hermogenes, he immediately began to deliberate ^C concerning the blessed Menas. But fearing that, if he should enter into discourse with him (since he was judged to be more than human in his miracles and his power of speech), he himself would be defeated and disgraced, and would also lose those who were still held by error, whom he saw being led to the truth by the miracles of the saint—he passed all that by, and commanded that they enclose him in a dark and somber prison, first binding his hands and suspending him from the ceiling; then he ordered them to hang from his feet a stone so heavy that, even when placed on a wagon, it could scarcely be carried; and finally, that they leave him [in that state], so that, violently stretched apart, he might die.

XXXII. Immediately, therefore, those whose task this was

did as they had been ordered, and thus they left him suspended, allowing no one at all to go to him for his consolation. But the blessed one, being violently stretched by the bonds placed upon his head and by the weight of the stone pulling him downward, as his joints were slowly being pulled apart, his sinews torn asunder, his flesh rent, and, to put it briefly, as every other connecting part of him was being painfully ripped apart—for as long as the strength of his body sufficed to sustain his soul, he suffered intensely, but he sang continuously, "Look upon my lowliness and my labor," and that saying, "The sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed." ^A But when, his strength having been completely consumed, his nature altogether refused its connection [to the body], he said, "I give you thanks, O Lord, that I have enjoyed your good things," and just as if he were held back by the weight of the torment, his voice was suddenly suppressed, and being carried off into sleep, he grew silent.

XXXIII. When, therefore, the contest of martyrdom had ended for each of the two athletes with such constancy and fortitude, ^B immediately those loving allies, the angels, were present to defend them. And first, having raised the body of the martyr Hermogenes from the depth of the river, and having suddenly restored him to be whole and entire, they also brought him back to life; and having declared that they were going to the athlete Menas and having encouraged him to follow, they proceeded a little way until they came to the prison, and they went in immediately, the bolts being dissolved for them by an invisible power. Hermogenes, indeed, reflecting on himself and silently considering the whole event, was struck with wonder; but seeing the blessed Menas still hanging, and already become breathless, ^C and beholding the torture as unbearable, he was filled with sadness. But the angels, encouraging him to be watchful and to observe, with a certain honor and reverence approached the saint at once. Having loosened the bonds of both, and having set and healed the jointing of the limbs which had undergone disruption, and having filled them with all joy and eagerness, they immediately dissolved the sorrow of Hermogenes regarding the great Menas. And having stayed with them until the morning, and having further sharpened them to undergo dangers, and having bidden them to hasten toward the crowns soon to be sent to them, and having promised that they would be present together [with them] and share their contests until the time of the crowns and the proclamation of victory—and then also having given them peace, and having heralded to them the favorable news of victory—they immediately departed from them. ^D

XXXIV. But the Emperor, having ordered early in the morning that the theater be made ready and that all the people come together there, sat before the tribunal. Since he had learned that the entire city had believed in Christ, and having considered and deliberated, he had decided it was indeed useless to leave it unpunished, but on the other hand, rash and contrary to reason to condemn all to punishment, having pretended to

^A total ignorance, he said: "That you who are present have decided to honor the gods with sacrifices and other libations, and us emperors with reverence, fear, and obedience in other matters, I have learned from many things. But that you did not immediately stand against and resist those accursed ones who dared to teach the things of the Crucified, and—that I may say it—even stone them before our presence, I consider that through this, the gods have conceived no small wrath. I, therefore, desiring to vindicate the gods themselves, and so that none of you may fall into a calamity sent by the divine, order that the city and all of you be deprived of the honors which were once attributed to both, so that you may know from this punishment imposed upon you and from the torments of those fools, that when a judge who is not himself preoccupied wishes neither to betray his votes nor to collude with these hypocrites, the Crucified can never help or rescue from evils; he is able only to be the cause of violent deaths and extreme misfortune for those who obey him. A proof for you of my words are those deceivers and wizards, Hermogenes and Menas, each of them promising before their tortures to raise others from the dead, yet having been deprived of life by me, as was fitting, in a short time by a grievous death, they are unable even to help themselves. Where then is the power of that deceiver Christ?"

^B

XXXV.

This having come to pass, a certain Eugraphius, who himself also had been trained in the instruction of the Greeks, and was one who served under the blessed Menas while he was still managing the public affairs, being then himself one of those in the theater and seeing these things that were happening, and having seen the miracle, and being as it were inflamed with zeal, and having protected himself with ^C the sign of the divine cross, and being filled with courage and boldness, leapt into the midst. And speaking confidently to the emperor, he said: "I, O emperor, am a Christian, and I despise your commands, and I renounce your religion, and now I am set before you for the sake of Christ, having no pity for these my own flesh. Do not think that you will overcome me or any other of the Christians at all with threats or flatteries. For to us, death is the life that is lived with you who are impious, but true life is the death that is taken up for Christ. And I know that as a roaring lion you have ascended upon this city, seeking in your wrath to snatch up and tear apart the flock of Christ with the worship of idols, and just as you have leapt out, so you have leapt upon us today with the same hopes and weapons. But we shall turn you away with the [invocation] of God... ^D

our faith, just as one would turn away a crafty fox that plays the mime most ridiculously.

XXXVI. When the emperor heard this, his heart was inflamed with rage, and his mind, being already agitated by the shock of the miracle, as if forgetting that he was emperor, leapt from his throne and, with a frenzied hand, grabbed a sword from one of those near him. He inflicted many mortal wounds upon Eugraphos and thus, with his own hand, ^B slew the valiant man and martyr beside the tribunal—who at first stood without any fear and bore the blows, and even while receiving them, rebuked the emperor; later, however, when he had fallen to the earth, he remained with a firm and constant spirit, rendering thanks to God that he was the first of the others to go to Him, and that he ended his life not with one cut, but with many, so that he might be deemed worthy of more crowns. Having received these blows and uttered these words, he expired.

The emperor, however, still having a soul intoxicated by the fact that, overcome by anger, he had descended to such a military task, returned to his seat. Remaining for some time in deep thought, ^C he realized that through his impudence he had brought a remedy to his own doubt, and had only seemingly impugned the truth. When, therefore, he suddenly came to himself and turned toward the saints, "I swear," he said, "by the power of the gods, that I hoped to see many other unexpected things, but I never expected to see such magicians. Yet why do you seem to do a strange thing, drawing the people away from themselves by magic and sorcery, and leading the simpler ones away from the power of the gods, and so easily persuading them to die for the Crucified? I, therefore, who have had the most thorough experience of you wretches, will soon openly show that you are either mere specters, ^D or that this falsified transformation of your members is a deception of the eyes and a patent trick."

XXXVII. The saints said: "You have said what is consistent, O emperor. For since your mind is infatuated, your soul is blind, and your heart is darkened, it is natural that the truth of this marvelous event seems to be sorcery and deception. For do you not obviously go blind toward things that are clearer than light and day, by being so incredulous? If you still doubt anything of what you see, inquire further and diligently into the truth within us ourselves. But if you think you can turn us from our conviction with cruel threats or promises of honors, or even by offering the empire itself—which is the greatest and most blessed thing among you—you are mistaken, emperor. For you will yourself confess Christ, your error changed, before we shall depart from the truth and cling to falsehood. Pronounce sentence then against us, well knowing that whatever you say or do henceforward will be empty in your hands, and you shall fall far from the mark you propose. Even then, the emperor, having understood the truth from himself, but especially having learned it from the astonishment of the bystanders—for they were even touching the holy men

and feeling them with their hands ^A and were beside themselves—fearing that the multitude, having their souls already persuaded by the evidence of the event, and he himself resisting the manifest truth, might perform some new act against him, ordered only this: that their heads be cut off, and he rose from the tribunal. When the holy men, with the soldiers leading them and the whole multitude, had arrived at the place, standing and lifting both hands and eyes to heaven, in the sight of all they prayed for a long time for the city, for all Christians, and for the Churches, for stability and peace, and that no one who had need of their help should ever go away empty-handed. Then after the prayer, having embraced one another and given peace and a greeting, and having stretched out their necks, each of them ^B joyfully received from the soldier allotted to the task the blessed end.

XXXVIII. Since, however, the great Menas had while still alive requested of the emperor that his body be deposited at Byzantium (he had also given instructions about this to those who were then faithful, and who were otherwise his acquaintances, saying that he had been allotted this city as a place to dwell), Maximinus, envying him even his burial, ordered an iron chest to be constructed and the bodies of the martyrs to be placed in it, then also to be sent into the depths of the sea, saying—lest he perhaps have foretold something of what was to befall the Galileans, and so his prediction might be invalidated here as well. Those, then, who were serving in this business, having most diligently carried out the whole plan, sank the bodies of the holy ones in the iron chest into the sea. The emperor, meanwhile, being unable to bear the taunts of the city, and at the same time having learned that the populace was being emboldened against him, and ^C suspecting that something reckless and dangerous might be attempted against him, set out from there on a journey toward Byzantium, affected by fear and shame. This being, therefore, the outcome of those matters, there occurred again something no less remarkable than what had gone before.

XXXIX. The chest bearing the bodies of the martyrs, being such as it was, and iron, and sea-faring, arrived before the emperor as he rode. For by some divine power it had very quickly emerged from the deep, and having traversed the sea waves, it sailed with the back-flow, and with a speed equal to birds it ran toward Byzantium, and it arrived before the one who had condemned it not to dwell in the city, the very thing that had been condemned, with great speed. ^D When, therefore, a certain divine apparition was made to the bishop of the city at midnight, which both signified that the martyrs were nearly at hand, and commanded him to hasten to the shores which are at the citadel, so that he might immediately receive them as they came up from the sea, having gathered at that very hour of the night those of the clergy who were present, and certain of the pious and faithful, he went with them to the shores which had been shown to him by the one who had appeared. And when they directed their eyes toward the sea, suddenly they see a light, like a pillar reaching from heaven down to the sea itself, and appearing to be founded upon a certain boat; and two men of glorious aspect, on each side, honorably and

^A approaching. And the object that was seen was standing into the harbors where they themselves were stationed, ^B and anchoring.

XL. But when by degrees it came closer, and it was already recognized to be a chest and not a ship, observing it neither bounding upward at the curvetings of the waves, nor again sliding down into the hollows, direct toward the men it sailed; and the light was great and splendid, and so much so that it illuminated the place no less than the sun, and those men bore in themselves symbols of a certain divine and wondrous nature. And they themselves were walking as if upon the water, and escorting the chest with a certain reverence; all were seized with fear and trembling. The angels, therefore, the guides of the shrine, when they had already become visible to those standing by, and had been seen and had approached as much as was sufficient to give instruction—where now it was necessary to place the martyrs because of the emperor’s madness, and where after a little time because of their own will, and what and how it was necessary to act—they suddenly departed from their eyes. But the bishop and those present with him, first of all surrounding the chest, embraced it; but when they learned that it was entirely of iron, amazement took hold of them, considering how it had sailed upon such a thin surface and had not been submerged at all. And then, having carried it up to the citadel, they hid it in a certain neighboring temple, just as they had been commanded.

XLI. But since Maximinus, having immediately turned back, was straightway struck by a divinely-sent blow, and he was deprived of his eyes, and at the same time scourged by angels, as he himself told his intimates, he expired after a few days; having lived after the blow and the scourging only as much time as was sufficient to reveal this secret to those who were related to him, so that it might not be hidden that the Lord executes judgments, and that divine justice punishes the wicked even here. ^C Taking courage, therefore, the bishop, and considering faith alone to be sufficient for aid, having translated with zeal and much honor the bodies of the most valorous martyrs of Christ, he deposited them beside the wall of the citadel, as guardians of the city, and saviors of those who sail; ^D a true consolation for those in misfortunes and diseases, to the glory of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, now and always and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONVERSATION OF OUR HOLY FATHER SPYRIDON, BISHOP OF TRIMITHUS

^A I. A life of noble and God-loving men, and one capable of providing the great wealth of virtue, is a thing of the greatest benefit to the soul. For it does not merely cut away that which is worse, but also effects a great change toward that which is better. For whether someone has been caught up in passions, by enjoying such narratives he withdraws from the impulse toward them and becomes a hater of evil; or if he is indeed diligent in virtue, he is stirred up more fervently by the history regarding it, and is spurred on toward imitation by the love of that which is similar. Imitation and zeal for great and admirable men, indeed, accomplish as much as they can, and others have shown this by imitating the noble pursuit of virtue of those who came before; but most of all does the life of the admirable Spyridon, who emulated both Jacob and the divine David in the ^B highest degree. And having embraced the gentleness and unfeigned nature of those men to a great extent, and as also looking toward Abraham’s hospitality and making his possessions common to those in need, he achieved not the earth through his gentleness, as the promise has it, but acquired the very heavens themselves as an inheritance. And through the wealth which he despised, he acquired Christ entirely, the divine wealth, and he grew rich in rivers of miracles, which have always been drawn upon, yet never fail.

II. The island of Cyprus brought him forth; yet he was not some chatterer, nor elegant in manner, nor one who delighted in the multitude and the marketplace, but was simple and quiet, and one who cherished freedom from business and cares, if ever anyone did. Wherefore, fashioning himself entirely after the life of the patriarch Jacob, as we have said, he also appeared as a shepherd of sheep, though not strictly a shepherd, nor so rustic or simple in manner

but rather a diligent observer of virtuous character. He would lead himself away ^A from the society of the many, but to poor men and strangers he showed himself so accessible and sociable, that he appeared most charming in the conversation of all people, and most generous in sharing what he had. Indeed, for any of those passing by to slip past him without being entertained was very painful to him, and equal to his missing some great and highly profitable gain. And while in other things he possessed a free spirit, foreign to all low-born flattery and servility, for the refreshing of the labors of travelers, and for washing weary feet, and for setting the table, and for discharging all other services by the law of friendship and moderation, he was so dexterous ^B and officious that he himself alone would perform these things more than servants who are endowed with the greatest benevolence toward their own masters. For there was combined in him simplicity with gravity, and gentleness with the greatness of his soul; and together with an intense and ardent charity, there flourished a grateful temperance, which he loved no less and embraced as ardently as all other things: as one who, not having lived long with a legitimate and chaste wife, and having been made a father of children by her, remained thenceforth superior to pleasure and every other worldly desire. Hence, also, working the honey of virtue more diligently, and studying zealously in the law of the Lord, he became most benevolent and most merciful in his soul and most fair in his judgment; and to sum it up, ^C Spyridon was a divine archetype and a tablet of virtues, having them all inscribed within himself, though few could reach them for imitation.

III. Since he shone thus with good deeds and had led a great and illustrious life, he was granted many greater gifts, both those of this present time and those which depict the greatness of the future. These were: he would strengthen bodies wasted by disease, remedy incurable mutilations of limbs, and rebuke evil spirits; and when he had rebuked them at the very first moment, they would flee with no delay interposed, and would immediately depart. Other things greater than these were also performed by him, with divine power bringing him aid. Wherefore, from a shepherd he was appointed a shepherd, ^D having been entrusted with the care of a flock of human beings instead of sheep, at the time when Constantine the Great ruled the Romans, being recognized as bishop of the city of the Tremithuntians. How great a care he had for virtue even after the throne, the miracles performed after he attained the throne will likewise show. But to recount all his deeds is both lacking in taste and impossible, just as it is utterly harmful to omit everything; but as many as it is possible to speak of, and which are very useful to hear, these I shall tell.

IV. God was chastising the island with a lack of rain, and a severe drought persisted; and famine followed the drought, and pestilence followed the famine, and a great part of the multitude was already perishing, while those who

were not yet suffering this hoped to be spared. But the dire situation required an Elijah, or someone like him, to open the heavens by prayer; and this man was Spiridon. For as the scourge lay heavy and was sorely pressing the multitude, he himself, suffering great anguish for the flock and burning with paternal compassion, entreats, as a man of love for humanity, the God who loves humanity. He immediately fills the heaven with clouds from the ends of the earth. And the wonder is this: so that one might not think that the rain followed by some natural inclination of the elements, God shows them from afar, yet halts them, not permitting them to ascend over the island for a time until the saint should pray to Him again. Not even then had he shed a single drop of tears, when suddenly a great downpour broke forth. And the earth is enriched, the fruits are nourished, the crops grow, and all the disasters are resolved at once. In this, Spiridon was, if I may be so bold as to say it, more gracious than Elijah himself. For the latter did withhold the rain and then released it again, but the former, not imitating the first act, is shown to be his equal in the second. And this is of such a nature. The other matter is in no way inferior to it.

V. A communal calamity prevailed again, and the island produced no crops. But the grain merchants and usurers, in the midst of such threats from God, wishing themselves to indulge in luxury, and acting craftily in such a time, were rather increasing the calamity, "drawing" (as the divine Scripture says) "the grain" and from the misfortunes of their neighbors, heaping up for themselves illicit profit (Amos V, 11). To one of these wealthy men, therefore, a certain poor man approached, and not having money with which he might buy what was necessary for his need, but shedding—alas!—the tears he had, and emitting mournful cries in a pathetic posture and with a piteous look, he tried to bend the implacable man, grasping his feet, pouring out his grief over his whole house, what did he not do, what did he not say, that was capable of drawing him to pity? But since none of these things moved that stony soul at all to compassion, the poor man finds one refuge: the holy one. Having approached him, he recounts both his own destitution and the stark poverty of the rich man regarding mercy. Having heard this, he pitied the calamity, but hated the cruelty of the rich man; and, as if inspired by God, he prophesied most distinctly: "Do you, however, neither groan nor weep; for tomorrow you shall see your own house abounding in good things, and him who is now rich being pitied and mocked, and yielding to you what you need, and eagerly begging you to take it." This, the poor man thought, was said by the saint only to comfort him in the misfortune that held him. Hence he went away downcast, as though he had found the sacred anchor—the hope he had in the great Spiridon—to be empty and of no effect.

VI. When night had already fallen, God, who

^A hears those who call upon Him, suddenly poured down waters from heaven upon the earth in such great abundance and with such force that not only were the rich man's storehouses swept away, but all the rest of the grain that had been locked up was scattered abroad, lying ready for any who wished to plunder it. When day broke, the rich man, miserable and full of grief, ran hither and thither, lamenting his just misfortune; he then begged those who passed by to help him, and to join in the gathering of the crops. But since many, being as it were famished, had run together to plunder, the poor man also approached, astonished at the miracle, but laughing most pleasantly and deservedly at the rich man, and filling his house with the crops, and having everything without effort—that which is said, "unsown and unploughed." Then, the cruel and unmerciful man seeing the multitude streaming in—for it was necessary that none of the things foretold by Spiridon remain unfulfilled—and seeing them all, with great impunity, scooping up his property with both hands, and seeing even him who had been a suppliant the day before, now become one of the multitude, and enjoying ^B the things laid out in abundance just as we said: as if wishing to bestow it on him of his own will, and to appear a man of fellowship and generosity, he—who was the most sordid and stingy of men—commanded him to take his fill of what was there. The latter, having sufficiently mocked his folly, returned home, attributing the favor primarily to God and then to Spiridon. Thus Spiridon knew how to open the fountains from above, not only for the sake of many, but often for the sake of one, and at once both to foretell the time when this would come to pass, and at the same time to benefit the poor and instruct the rich. For even if that miser did not become any better—as shall now be told—yet he became an occasion for the amendment of many like him. Who among those present did not hear these things ^C gladly? And who, having heard, did not have his ear made more eager to hear other things, and did not seek to learn, and while seeking, who could be so sluggish or envious as to deprive a hungering soul of such nourishment?

VII. Another farmer, a man acquainted with the holy man, being also greatly pressed by famine, went also to that same penurious rich man, who still possessed many other storehouses weighted down with grain, supposing absolutely that the former misfortune would have sufficiently schooled him. But it seemed that while the man had lost his grain, he had not at all cast off his stinginess and the cruelty that dwelt in the rich man toward his neighbor, nor had he become at all a better man, although the poor man promised that at harvest time he would return what was given with an increase; but he, as the saying goes, said that hope feeds fools. "As for you," he said, "without money you shall not receive even a single grain, nor even the shadow of one." Then, having despaired, this poor man also imitates the one who went before, and as though to a common treasure house, he takes refuge in Spiridon ^D and reports what he had suffered and what he had heard in answer to his request from the rich man. The latter, having at that time sufficiently comforted him, sent him home.

^A Yet he did not stop his consolation at mere words; for on the following day the great high priest himself comes to the poor man, bringing with him a certain gold object of no light weight—what it was, and whence, and how it had been found by the holy man, the narrative will disclose in a little while. For the present, then, the great Spyridon put this into the hands of the poor man and said, "Take this, and having presented this pledge—which is dear to him—to the rich man, receive from him the things that are useful and necessary for your use." The poor man was gladdened upon receiving this and hurried with all the speed he could muster to the rich man. Then, when the latter saw what was in his hands, he who a little before had been harsh and implacable, and whose ears had been closed to entreaties, was straightway softened in his eyes, and became pleasant and humane. Having received it, he shares his grain so generously that he not only filled the man's house, but also provided enough for the sowing of the fields he possessed, and the grain that was sown produced such an abundant yield that he was able both to repay his debt to him who had lent it, and to take back the gold given as a pledge, and to return it gratefully to the holy man.

^B VIII. But while the poor man [has repaid] the debt, the account also wishes to pay its own debt and to make known what it promised: what the gold was at first and from where it was taken. For having received back what had been given, the holy man said to the poor man, "Come, brother, let us return it together to Him who lent it so kindly." Having said this, and having taken him, he leads him to a certain garden which was comforting the great man's need with small vegetables. And having stood by the very fence thereof and touched the enclosure, and having lifted his eyes to heaven, he exclaimed in the hearing of him who stood with him, "My Lord Jesus Christ, who doest and transformest all things by Thy will alone, who at the time of Moses didst turn the rod into a serpent before the eyes of the king of Egypt; do Thou Thyself now also turn this gold, even as Thou didst once change it from a living creature into this form, so that it may return to the form it had from the beginning, that this man also may learn of Thy care for us, and may learn by the very facts what is taught in the divine Scripture, that 'Whatsoever the Lord willed, He did'." ^C When he had prayed thus—who, Lord, could tell of the greatness of Thy wonders?—the gold was a serpent, breathing and creeping, and moving and coiling about the fence; from which it had first been taken by the hands of the holy man, and he had wondrously changed it into that gold. Having seen this, beyond all human conception, the farmer, seized with trembling, falls on his face to the ground, and scatters dust upon his head, shedding tears from his eyes, and saying that he was unworthy not only of such a gift and grace, but even of the mere sight, or rather, even of the hearing of it. Howbeit, the holy man raises him up, and strengthens both his soul and body at the same time: but the serpent meanwhile through

the fence having coiled itself ^A away, it entered the lair from the beginning. In any case, the miracle needs no speech for its amplification; for it is shown from the very thing itself what sort it is, and nature, possessing its own superiority, needs no art at all. Let that which follows also be told, being akin to those mentioned before, and of the same grace and power as those.

IX. Another man, who was himself also a friend to the holy man, and a pursuer of virtue, and for this reason had stirred up wicked men to envy, and because he was accused by calumny of certain crimes, was seized by the governor of the province and handed over to prison, and he was already on the verge of being condemned to death. As therefore the appointed day was near, and the saint, having foreseen this, hastened to deliver his friend from the calamity. It was then the height ^B of winter, and the torrent flowing past, being flooded with very many waters and having overflowed its own boundaries, was flowing violently across the path, and was in no way or at all passable. But calling to mind Jesus the son of Nun and what he did, and considering the passage of the Ark, and believing him to be God, as indeed he was, he used the torrent as a servant: "Stand," he said, "the common Master commands you, and I shall cross over, and the man for whom we are hurrying and have offered many prayers to God shall be saved." Thus he spoke, and what was said instantly becomes a fetter for the river, and the current stands still. And it yields the way ^C not only to Spiridon, but also to other travelers, as it was no longer a wicked and impassable meeting for them. The accessory act, then, was performed by him no less wondrously than the main act. But from this, that other act was also accomplished all the more, for as those who were traveling with him saw what had happened, running ahead of him and reaching the city as quickly as possible, they became brilliant heralds of what had been accomplished. And the governor, partly amazed at this, and partly seized with fear lest he should be found offending a man capable of such things, immediately releases his friend from his bonds and bestows him upon the holy man. And he, having received him, returned, having accomplished two things ^D from one cause: namely, he had repressed the impetus of the flow, and had mercifully delivered the man from his calamity. And as far as prophecy is concerned, or miracles, or compassion towards those in calamities, I think there is nothing greater than the signs that have been told.

X. But the discourse is prepared to show even more than the things already said, regarding both prophecy and compassion at once: I mean, that he saw the sins of men from the invisible, and forgiven them, with kindness of mind and abundance of grace; everywhere the great Spiridon kept his own ways as a kind of immovable law, delighting most of all in simplicity and frugality, as one who wished to imitate his own Master. For he neither used a horse for making journeys, nor did he withdraw himself from the speech and company of all, as though he wished thereby to appear more serious and austere. When, therefore, he had once traveled vigorously, and his feet were wearied by the length of the journey, at one of his friends and of his own fold...

he was hospitably received. He himself, like a good sheep of the good Shepherd, and looking toward his life as to a most beautiful archetype, showed the moderation of his Master—or rather, of the Lord and first master, Christ. For having taken water and put it into the basin, he was ready to wash the feet of the saint. But those in the neighborhood, when they perceived that the saint had arrived, they too ran together, and no less desired to do this to his feet, and they treated the matter as something contested among them, and they strove with one another for the blessing.

XI. Among them, then, was also a certain woman who was jostling most of the others, and was very ^B pressing to do this; she, however, had been captured by carnal love some time before, and had been overcome, alas, by sin! But he, truly seeing into the heart, and as one who understood well how her situation stood, gently turned away his gentle and kind face, and gently spoke also to her: "Do not touch me, woman," he said. Not as one might say, acting arrogantly or feeling loathing for the woman (for how would he, being a disciple of Him who sat at table with publicans and harlots and sinners?), but ^C putting her to shame, and casting into her mind the thought of her wicked deed, and so mildly calling her to repentance—which indeed had its conclusion and was carried out according to his purpose. For as she was pressing on, still eager to do the thing she studied and bringing in much opposition, he touched her even more keenly, openly stating what she had done. Then she, deeply wounded in soul by the wise rebuke, and astonished that he had perceived the hidden welts of her soul, no longer with water, ^D but with tears, cleanses his feet, and with a contrite heart confesses what had been done. What then? She, indeed, [spoke] to him the words of the harlot, and he, most confidently, the words of the Lord to her: "Take courage, daughter; your sins are forgiven." And again: "See, you have been made well; sin no more," at the same time healing the disease according to the methods of physicians, and providing that she might not fall into the same things again. Thus, then, she received the most noble and useful of healings, so that not only did she remain in unchangeable health, but she also, by telling it to others, became an occasion for many to attain salvation.

XII. Since, however, one gathers conjectures about a life from miracles, it is necessary to declare what his zeal for the faith was like; the matter before us will reveal this. When the great Constantine, the first among emperors to be a Christian, ruled over the Romans, and Paulinus and Julian were consuls, and from the reign of Alexander, son of Philippus, the six hundred and thirty-sixth year was passing, then that illustrious council of the holy Fathers was assembled at Nicaea.

^A in order to depose Arius, who impiously called the Son a created thing, but to decree that the Son is of one essence with the Father. Now, among those who supported his blasphemies, the first and most eminent were Eusebius of Nicomedia, and with him Maris and Theognis, of whom the former was bishop of Nicaea, and Maris was bishop of Chalcedon. These men, under the leadership of Arius in that madness of his, wicked and criminal as they were, decreed that the Son of God and God [himself] was a created thing—oh, the madness! But the champions who contended for piety—whose word and life alike were far more excellent than those of the others—were these: the great among the saints, Alexander, who was a presbyter, but at that time was performing the duties of the blessed Metrophanes, as he was not present himself, his absence being caused by illness; and the great Athanasius, who was not yet adorned with the priestly throne, but was fulfilling the office of deacon in the Church of Alexandria. For this reason, no small envy crept in against them, because, although they did not yet excel in rank, they far surpassed the others in the rationale of the faith. And with them was also the great Spyridon, whose life and the grace dwelling within him were more effective for persuasion than the tongues of the others, and the inescapable grasps of ^B their syllogisms, and the elegant periods of their speeches.

XIII.

XIV.

^A own trying to mock, he approached and asked that it be granted to him also to speak a few words with him. But those of the side of piety, knowing his simple and archaic character, and furthermore that he was completely untasted by Hellenic learning, prevented him from coming into the middle to engage with the sophist. He, however, not being persuaded by them—for he knew what is true wisdom from above, and what human power is, and that it is made void and brought to nothing—approached the man and said: "In the name of Jesus Christ, O philosopher, attend to me now, and direct your mind toward me, and hear what I myself wish to say." When he said, "Speak, and I shall listen," Spiridon said: "There is one God, the creator of heaven and earth and of all things in between. He it is who brought forth the heavenly powers; He it is who fashioned man from the earth, and set everything in place, both that which falls under sight and that which does not. By His Word and Spirit, heaven was brought forth, earth was brought forth, the sea was poured out, the air was spread out, animals were born, and man was fashioned—that great and wondrous

^A union of both to provide also pleasure? For they—the former having prevailed, and the latter having been defeated—were such that, with almost everyone having joined the orthodox doctrine, a mere six were left behind with Arius, to be a base and wretched portion of the father of lies and of the enemy of the truth from the beginning. Since the heterodox had been so clearly exposed, the bishops returned, rejoicing in the victory, but struck with awe at the miracle, and glorifying God for both these things: for the wonders they had seen, and for how they had overcome the madness of Arius. Moreover, the emperor himself, having been utterly astonished by the miracle, honored the man with every honor, and begging him to render God propitious through him, sent him home.

XVI. In the meantime, while these things were being discussed, the saint’s daughter, who had been born to him of an honorable marriage, died suddenly; and although she was in the bloom of youth, she showed a temperance far more beautiful, and remained a virgin for her whole life—a matter worthy of the pure Bridegroom and the heavenly chambers. ^B But the great Spiridon, having returned and endured the calamity as it is fitting for such a man to endure it, when a certain woman had just approached him who had arrived a little while before, in great distress and lamenting, because she had deposited a certain golden ornament with his daughter while she was still alive, and since she had been snatched away by a swift death, that which had been entrusted to her faith had remained with her; this became a care to the saint—and why not, since he had such a benevolent soul?—and he judged that if the deposit were not restored, the law would be violated, and he considered that an injury was being done to her. Since, therefore, he had searched his whole house diligently and could nowhere find what was being sought, what happened, and what kind of outcome did the manifold wisdom of God bring about? He approaches the tomb, just as my Christ did previously to Lazarus, as one who was entirely His disciple, and, as far as was possible, imitating His deeds; and many of those who were with him followed him. Then, just as if she were not in a tomb but still alive in a chamber, addressing his daughter, having called her by name, in the hearing of all those who happened to be with him: "Child," he said, "Irene, where is the ornament that was deposited with you?" And she, immediately awakening as if from some soft sleep, and keeping both her breath and her voice sound: "My lord," she said, "in this part of the house was that golden ornament laid away by me." Stupor seized those who were present at these things. ^C Then also another miracle followed upon the miracle. For just as if he were lord of life and death, and honored with this gift by the Christ whom he desired, because he had brought her back to life for a short time for the sake of necessity, he ordered her to die again: "Sleep for the rest, child," he said, "until the common Master shall raise you with everyone in common." He himself, however, having arrived at that little house of his daughter, and having found the ornament just as she had said,

and having taken it up, he handed it to the woman, thus providing an increase and confirmation to the miracle. And these things indeed took place on the island.

^B XVII. But so that Antioch too might see the virtue and grace of Spyridon, and bear witness to it, this also comes to pass in a manner as miraculous as it is wondrous. And the discourse shall now declare how. Constantine the Great had recently departed this life and left his rule; and his sons had divided it among themselves. Now Constantius, having obtained the lot to rule the East, was residing in the great city of Coele-Syria, I mean Antioch. A very severe disease fell upon him, one which mocked the art and hands of physicians. For this reason, having despaired of all others, he besought Him alone who knows how to heal both souls and bodies. As he was applying himself more intensely to prayer, a vision stood by him at night, an angel showing him a choir of many holy bishops. When the emperor gazed intently at them, he saw standing in their midst two men who looked like bishops themselves, but who appeared to be leaders and chiefs of the others. The angel, having pointed them out to him, said that they alone were the healers of his disease.

^C When sleep released him, he pondered who these might be, but he could not interpret the dream. For how could he, when neither their name nor their country was known to him? Furthermore, one of these had appeared to him as a bishop, although he had not yet in truth become one at that time, but rather it was something that was to be, presented as though it had already come to pass. The ruler, feeling perplexed at these things, and being at once moved by the vision and yet afflicted by his pains, did not know what he should do. But that fervor of his faith suggested to him most excellently that such a vision had not appeared without cause; whence it also persuaded him to form a plan, one both kingly and noble, and not void of wisdom for the present situation. For he ordered all the bishops throughout the Roman Empire who cared for a virtuous life to assemble, so that, when they had come together, the two who had appeared to him might become known.

^D XVIII. Letters were sent throughout the entire region which was subject to the Romans, summoning the bishops. And when, upon the arrival of others, there was no recognition of those who were sought, he sent also to the island of Cyprus, calling for Spyridon and his grace. He, however, had foreseen all these things regarding the emperor by the Spirit, for grace had signaled each thing to him through dreams. And since the words of the emperor also agreed with this, he set out toward him not unwillingly, leading with him also the man who, according to the vision that had appeared, had stood with him before the emperor. The name of this man was Triphyllius, who had not yet been deemed worthy of the priesthood, but had received his ordination from above even before the choice of men. Spyridon therefore entered the palace with him, dressed/equipped in a very humble and simple manner. For his garment was dreadfully cheap; his right hand held a walking-staff, and...

he wore a tiara on his head. Furthermore, a small earthenware vessel hung from his neck, as was the custom for those who, living in the holy city, had determined to bring back the oil of the holy cross.

^B XIX. But since it was not enough for him to be moderate in his way of life and in his simplicity, which was foreign to superfluous things, but also to imitate his own Master in bearing injuries, a certain man in the palace, mocking his poverty and thinking it indecorous for him to enter the palace dressed in such a fashion, struck his sacred cheek with a blow of his fist. Yet no lightning bolt was sent from heaven against the one who had struck him, but he suffered it entirely, just as He who had suffered this in Himself in a divine manner also endured it. But he (O noble soul, and most ambitious in suffering!) offered his other cheek to the one who was afflicting him with injury, being prompt to fulfill the Lord's law; and by showing himself ready to suffer, he overcame that man's excessive haste of hand and impudence. This captured the insolent and injurious man, and filled him with great shame, especially when he learned that the one who had been injured was a bishop. Whence, having changed, he becomes a supplicant and asks for forgiveness, striving to heal his slip into thoughtless audacity with the heat of repentance. But he—for he had learned how to bear injuries just as he had learned to forgive debts, or rather, to reward with good deeds him who had caused him trouble—bestowed a benefit upon him with the words he had, counseling him paternally and rendering his soul better. From this, it came about that those who held the first honors before the emperor followed him with reverence and, as was fitting, led him to the emperor.

XX. Nor should those things that occurred in the meantime be omitted, for they are worthy of study and can bring great utility to souls eager for wisdom. The great man, seeing his disciple Triphyllius—who would soon be perfect and like him—still, for the present, considering the great things of the world, for which many deem it worth contending, to be truly great, as he was still young in years, and his age aiding in this, and as he was admiring the things that were in the palace (I mean the splendid garments, and the brilliance of the gold, and above all the emperor himself, who sat on high and was seen as terrible and distinguished in appearance); seeing him, on account of all these things, standing aloft and erect, and as if he had departed from himself, he, as if breaking his sleep and the dreams he had in reality, touching him with his hand and shaking him, said: "But show me that emperor, Triphyllius; for I am unable to know which one he is." He, not understanding what the great Spiridon ^D wanted of him, said, "This is he," pointing out the emperor with his hand. "What then," said Spiridon, "is this man more admirable than others, unless you would also say he is more righteous because of his ostentation and splendor? Will he not die just like any unknown beggar? Will he not similarly be committed to the grave and corruption? And will he not similarly stand before the incorrupt—

^A and heavenly glory, and love it alone?

XXI. The Appearance of Spyridon to the Emperor

XXII. The Emperor’s Joy and Spyridon’s Counsel

^A XXIII. The emperor, wishing to reward him for the cure he had received, offered him an untold sum of gold. But he said to him wittily: "It was not right, O Emperor, to return hatred for friendship. For what has been done by me on your behalf arises purely from love: to leave my home, to sail across such a great sea, and to endure the harshness of winter and the cruelty of the winds upon the waters. Shall I then accept gold in return for these things—gold, which is the cause of every evil and which easily ruins all that is just? And how would I not be openly accusing myself and condemning myself for clear wickedness?" As he said these things and insisted that he would accept nothing, the emperor grew all the more insistent that he should give, regarding it as a kind of disgrace ^B if one who had been benefited did not return a benefit, but, having cast off a bodily disease, should be bested in the nobility of the soul. Wherefore he pressed on all the more, thinking in this way to overcome the invincible one. He persuades him to accept it, but not in such a way that the gift should remain with him. For as he was returning after taking leave of the emperor, he distributed it all to those about the palace, teaching by his deed how they too ought to be disposed toward wealth and money if they wish to be free. For indeed, a great inclination toward these things and being excessively mastered by their own possessions, what is it other than clear voluntary slavery? When the emperor learned this, he said that he no longer wondered ^C if this man, living in such a way, was shown to be a worker of such great miracles. The emperor derived so much profit from the words of Spiridon, and so perceived his kindness and humanity, that he used a great and noble spirit to refresh and sustain all the needy, and widows, and orphans, comforting them—those in their widowhood, others in their bereavement, and others still in their poverty—with magnanimity. And for all those of the ecclesiastical order, priests and as many as were deacons, he was the first to legislate an exemption, judging it absurd that those who had been enrolled for service to the immortal King should pay taxes to a mortal king. And these things happened in this way.

^D XXIV. The account now wishes to make mention of other miracles, which are adorned with the joyous flower of graces and which breathe forth much pleasure along with what is useful. For as the saint was leaving the palace, he was welcomed as a guest by a certain lover of Christ. A barbarian woman, ignorant of the Greek tongue, approached him; carrying her dead child in her arms, she placed it at the saint's feet. She herself fell prostrate at the same time, weeping piteously, and because of her barbarian speech, saying things unintelligible to those present, she spoke only with her tears, making it clear that her lamentation was for the sake of her child, and that she was asking the bishop to raise it to life. The man of merciful spirit was moved by this, and he was torn between two concerns—the moderation of his own mind, and his compassion for the woman. For when he looked upon her grief and the burning of her bowels, he would approach the miracle and be incited to pray to God that the boy should come back to life. When, however,

^A he looked back at the magnitude of the request, being modest in his disposition and not least of all a man of pious heart, he would draw back and delay, and judged the undertaking to be presumptuous. For this reason, he decided to take one of those who were with him as a counselor. This was Artemidorus, who was just then serving as a deacon, a man who had diligently practiced all the virtues, though one quality in particular was tempered through all of them like a common color, so that he never made his success known to anyone in any way. The saint asked him what they ought to do. And he said to him, as it was necessary for the other person to say and for him to hear: "Why, O Father," he said, "did you ask? What else is there to do, and for you especially, but to invoke Christ the Giver of Life, who has already been made manifest on many occasions to hear your prayers? And, moreover, if the Emperor has been saved through you, will the poor and the obscure be judged as worthy of being overlooked?"

^B XXV. The high priest obeys this excellent counsel, and his heart being warmed with compassion, and his eyes being filled with tears, he knelt upon the earth and watered it with his weeping. He prayed most fervently and with feeling, and he begged Christ the good and philanthropic to bring the child to life for the wretched woman, and to restore the mother, according to the holy Scripture, rejoicing over her children. Therefore, He who through Elisha and Elijah had breathed spirit and granted life to the son of the widow of Zarephath and to the son of the Shunammite, He Himself ^C heard Spyridon in turn; and the child, who had been lying dead, was seen alive in a wondrous manner, and moving, and as a child, weeping in his mother's eyes. My own eyes were filled with tears of joy, for thus did the thing to be told move my soul when it came to my mind. But hear it, you too. As the mother saw her dearest one alive—O the depth of Your judgments, Christ, the ineffable ones!—not bearing the excess of her joy, she fell to the ground and expired. What happened showed that nothing in excess is, in truth, fine. For look, we have learned not only of a fatal excess of grief, but also ^D of an immoderation of joy. You too, I know, have been affected in your soul, having turned from joy to sadness. For by nature, human beings are sympathetic and philanthropic; but the great one is near to change your sorrow into joy. For he yields once again to Artemidorus, and the modest man is moved to give the mother to the son. Looking up to heaven, therefore, and taking into his heart the Lord who dwells in them, and having prayed to Him who breathes life into the dead and who changes and transforms all things by His will alone, he says to her who was lying there: "Arise, and stand upon your feet." And she, immediately, as if held by sleep rather than death, rose and stood before him, and took the child into her arms; and he was alive, as has been said, and was leaping in his mother's arms. The great man, on account of his remarkable moderation, as I have said, did not wish this to be blazed abroad to the masses, and he enjoined silence upon Artemidorus, and through him, upon the woman.

But after ^A his death, Artemidorus, not judging it holy to leave so fair a report, or rather a miracle, to be lost to those who love God, makes it known and delivers it to the ears of the faithful. And thus matters stand.

XXVI. After the great Spiridon had returned from Antioch to Cyprus, someone approached him wishing to buy a hundred goats from his flock. Having been ordered by the saint to pay the price first and then receive them, he paid for only ninety-nine, holding back the price of one—a gain, as they say, better than disgrace—perhaps also thinking that in this he would escape the notice of his simplicity, which was far removed from the cares of all business. When, then, both had gone inside the fold, the saint bade him take as many goats as he had paid the price for. But the man, not even then understanding, demanded a hundred from the fold. One of the goats, however, as a good servant, sensing that its master had not sold it, ^B quickly returned and proceeded toward the fold. The man, however, shamelessly led it away again and dragged it by force. This wonder happening already twice and thrice, the goat would return, and he would drag it back with an angry hand and spirit. What then? Achieving nothing, he snatched it up from the ground, placed it on his shoulders, and was carrying it off. But the goat, crying out with a very loud and harsh voice, striking him with its horns, and butting him on the head, openly proclaimed his violence and in a way avenged the injustice of the covetous man, so that those who were present were struck with amazement at the occurrence, being unable to conjecture the cause. The great Spiridon, not wishing to rebuke him openly, said quietly to the one doing the wrong: “See, my child, lest this animal be making this commotion not in vain, nor to no purpose being burdened by the abduction, but because you perhaps unwittingly did not pay its price.” Thus, the man—that fisherman—having been struck, ^C came to his senses and, having attained awareness of what he had done, confessed it and begged for pardon; then, having also paid the price for the one, he no longer had the goat crying out and resisting, but it followed the others quietly. And this was so.

XXVII. Another instance, though I shall relate this from an earlier time. On the island there is a village called Erythra, not far from the metropolis of Constantia; for it is distant from it no more than thirty stadia. To this place, for some necessity, the great Spiridon had traveled. He entered the church for the sake of prayer, and commanded one of the local deacons to conduct a brief sacred service. For he was exhausted by the long road, and especially so as it was the summer season, and the heat at that time was causing him great labor. But the deacon was quite lingering and, deliberately, was ambitiously prolonging the prayers, as it seems, ^D hunting after vain glory from this. Wherefore, the man who by nature was most gentle looked at him intensely and said in a rebuking tone: “Be silent.” And he, as if bound by some fetter upon his tongue and deprived of speech, was struck dumb, the sequence of the prayer he was reciting being broken off immediately.

by the interruption of the series of the prayer which was then being chanted by him. But when the saint had fulfilled what was lacking, the wretched man fell at his feet—he who a little before had been high and mighty in his own esteem, but was now mute, though he had formerly abounded in words and delighted in untimely discourse. ^A As for those who dwelt in the village, fear entered into those who were present, while the report caused those who were absent to hasten thither. And as many were immediately flowing together, moved at once by wonder at the great man and by pity for the one who had suffered—and especially his kinsmen and relatives, who were at once imploring that generous soul to forgive him who was condemned to dumbness and to release the bond upon him—see what that man, who was charming and most apt in virtue, does. For while he was moved by their prayers, ^B yet seeing that the deacon still required instruction (for he saw this too through the Spirit), he divides the penance cleverly. He permits him indeed to use his tongue for every kind of speech, yet not altogether freely, nor as before, clear and sonorous, but dull and sluggish, and stumbling somewhat in small ways; thus teaching him no longer to think highly of his tongue, nor to boast in words, since it is not honorable for a good man to boast even of things themselves.

XXV.

XXIX.

^A that the lamp’s oil was already failing, and there was no other available at that moment. The wick, moreover, was on the point of being extinguished. He was distressed in soul, as he did not wish to leave the service incomplete. Straightway, then, by an invisible power, the lamp overflowed with oil. The oil poured out like a spring, and the servers, having placed vessels beneath, received what was flowing down. So abundantly did the great man partake of that grace, which was overflowing no less in his soul than I say the sensible oil was in the lamp. That he was able to see without impediment even the things in the depths of the soul, the account has already indicated previously, when even a prostitute was improved by his rebukes; it shall indicate this now as well.

XXX. There is a city in Cyprus of the same name as Cyrene in Libya. To this place the great Spyridon was traveling from Tremithus, as some business called him. Triphyllius, his disciple, who had already (as had appeared in a dream) become prelate of the city of the Callinicians, was accompanying him. Now, as it seemed best to go by way of the city of Cythera and the mountain which is called Pentadactylus, when they arrived at what is called Patymna (this is a good and pleasant place, and abounding in many delightful things), Triphyllius, being taken with the place, desired that he himself might become the master of some land in Patymna, and consecrate it to his own Church. Triphyllius made much of these things and turned them over in his mind; yet they did not at all escape the sight of the internal eyes of Spyridon. But he saw it clearly, and gently rebuked the disciple, saying: "O Triphyllius, why do you turn these empty and vain things over in your mind, desiring fields and vineyards which are, in truth, of no value, but only appear so, and please merely by their name? We have a possession ^B in the heavens which cannot be taken away; we have a house not made by hands. Pursue those things, enjoy them even before the time with hopes—things which cannot be transferred by one person to another, but whoever has once been seen as their master, remains, having an inheritance which is not taken away in any way." Triphyllius, having heard these things, did not hear them in vain, but became better in spirit, and hid them in the inner chambers of his heart; he asked the saint to forgive him, and afterwards led an accurate and perfect life, so that he became a vessel of election ^C of Christ, like Paul, and was deemed worthy of myriad gifts. Thus the great man corrected some willingly, and others even unwillingly; but for those who did not wish to accept the correction, an evil end resulted, such as this which follows.

XXXI. A certain sailor of the same city as the saint, having gone abroad and having spent a long time—two whole years—in his travels, returned; and having come back to his beloved homeland, he found his house hostile. For his wife had been clearly adulterated. For he had a certain witness: the swelling of her belly and the fetus that was being carried in it. He, therefore,

^A came very near to killing his wife; for "full is the jealousy of a man," as it is written. But when he had with difficulty restrained his anger, and had considered that it was neither honorable for him to cohabit with her any longer, nor good to kill her (for this would be her destruction, and that, a perpetual disgrace to him in life, and a torment of heart that would have no end), he left her. But he immediately goes to the saint, and tells him everything in detail: the journey, the time, the adultery, and the testimony of her belly, which was beyond all exception. And he asks what he should do, and how he should bear it, and what he thinks about this matter, and says that he indeed wishes to dismiss his wife, but desires to know if this also seems right to him. He, therefore, admires the man’s frame of mind; he deplores and pities the calamity; he sends for the woman, and does not even ask her whether she had done this (for the interrogation would be superfluous; for who would report it better than the belly, since the matter was manifest, and the husband was affected by the disgrace and dishonor?). But she (for a woman is an impudent and rash thing, when once she has cast off shame) was not at all ashamed, and ^B would not admit it to any other; but she constantly affirmed that she had not had relations with any other. But when the saint made known the time of his journey—as one who could not be refuted by this lie—she, even so, did not cast off her impudence, but the wretch was troubled, and tried to contradict [him] entirely, or rather, to anger those who were listening by her defense, all the more by this adultery. "As much as the man was a stranger," she said, "so much does the child in my womb also belong to me, so that he may come from a different womb and this one from my womb." Since she was ^C thus even more shameless toward the great [saint] than these [people], and did not even fill the city with such tumult and shouting, and as though she were being wronged, [tried to] incite those present to defend her, that most gentle man, not even then subjecting her to judgment, but rather drawing her to repentance by fear, said: "O woman, if you have slipped into a great sin, then bring in also a great repentance, so that perhaps there might still remain for you a great amount of salvation. For no sin is so powerful as not to be overcome by the love of God." But since in adultery you have labored with despair and with impudence, it is just that you should recognize the rewards of these, and that you should quickly undergo punishment. But ^D now, because you still offer some small room for repentance, we proclaim that this fetus will not be brought into the light for you until/you cease to cover yourself with the deep darkness of the lie, thinking you are hidden, and [being] blind, as they say, to things being seen. These words were reduced to the matter a little before the time of delivery; sharp labor pains seized her, and were sharply twisting her belly, while the fetus still inside was holding on, and the evil [deeds]

^A are the extreme of all evils, because not even then did she relax her stubbornness; and so they consign her to a most pitiable death. Another might indeed have pitied her for the calamity, but I [pity] the evil and incurable intent; because of which, they say, the saint was moved with even greater sorrow, shedding tears from his eyes and adding, "I will no longer judge any man, since the sentence is executed so quickly." Those who had seen and heard these things were brought to have great reverence for the saint, and for this reason they attended to him piously and cautiously and looked upon him with fear, just as formerly [they looked upon] the apostles, who had just performed a miracle regarding Ananias and Sapphira.

^B XXXII. But this, indeed, is the story of an evil and wicked woman. Let there be added also a narrative of a good one. A certain woman by the name of Sophronia, being moderate in her ways and pious, did not have a husband of the same mind as herself in the faith; rather, he held to the error of the Greeks. She would not cease coming to the saint and fervently praying him to deliver her husband from his madness. Nor did her husband prevent her from visiting the saint, in part because he did not know for what cause she was approaching him, and in part because the saint was held in great reverence by him as well. For he himself also would visit the saint, and treated him as a friend, and considered honoring him as his own honor. ^C Furthermore, the great Spyridon also used to come to him. When, therefore, they were thus receiving each other in hospitality and being received, having sat down at a banquet together at times, the saint, wishing to opportunely capture his friendly Gentile, turned and said, in the hearing of them, to one of those who were serving: "The small boy," he said, "who was entrusted to me to graze the flock, having been overcome by a deeper sleep, had lost the sheep. But when sleep released him, having searched very diligently, he found them all hidden together in a certain cave; and before he discovered these things, he sent a messenger to us to make known what had happened. And he, having already arrived, stands before the gates. But you, go down, O you, and make known to that messenger that everything has been found precisely, and not one is missing from the flock."

The servant heard these things, and going off with great speed, ^D made it clear to him who stood before the gates. While the table had not yet been cleared, another messenger arrived, reporting everything in the same way: that the sheep had been found, and the place, and that the number was not lacking a single one. these things, being completely in agreement with what the saint had said, struck great astonishment into the idolater, and he held the saint to be a God and observed him; and he was wanting to do the same things which once the Lycaonians used to do to Barnabas and Paul, namely, to sacrifice bulls to him, and to hang garlands at the entrance. But he, just like them, said to him, "I am not God, but a slave of God rather, a man subject to the same passions as you. The fact that I rightly know the one God, this is what is granted to me, and [the knowledge] of these things. If you also will acknowledge Him as Master, you shall surely know

how inexpugnable is His power and what great strength He possesses. ^B But she, being more a lover of Christ than of her husband, seizing this as a suitable opportunity and contributing what was appropriate from her own side, persuades the man both to abjure all vain error and to mock the worship of idols, and to learn well the true piety, and to put on Christ through baptism.

XXXIII. If we were to hide the following account in silence, how would we not deprive the listeners of the greatest profit, especially since, along with what is profitable, it also carries great delight? Let this, then, be told also, and let it feast the ears of those who love noble things. They say that the great one, being far removed from moderation [in his virtues] and purged of pride, managed his bishopric in a manner pleasing to God, but nonetheless ^C took care of his sheep as well. Thus, once, at an unseasonable hour of the night, thieves approached his sheepfold to steal some of his livestock. But God, who cared for the shepherd, did not neglect even those he tended. Those thieves, seized by invisible bonds that could not be seen, had their hands bound and were unable to move away at all. Dawn was now present, and the great one, recognizing what had happened and seeing them with their hands bound behind their backs, loosed their bonds through prayer; and, having admonished them at length to provide themselves with necessities from just labors, he offered them a ram, ^D saying wittily, "So that you might not have kept watch in vain." But another [event] also presents itself to follow what has been said, which yields nothing to it in delight.

XXXIV. A certain man of Trimithous, being a ship-owner and having need of gold for trade, approaches the holy man to receive it from him. He, being a fulfiller of this commandment along with others, which says: [C (Latin)] "Him who wishes to borrow from you, do not turn away" (Matt. v, 42), readily and with a cheerful spirit handed over to him the little that he had, which was prepared for the necessary use of the episcopate. He, having received this and having arranged his voyage favorably, once he returned with profit, approaches the holy man to deposit the debt; and he, without investigating at all, nor counting the number, as is the custom with most people, commands him to stand up and place it in that very vessel from which he had previously taken it. And at that time, the merchant, revering the kindness and freedom from anxiety of the lender, deposited the gold there, just as he had been ordered. But when necessity urged him again, he would take it just as readily, and he would replace it just as deceitfully; and as this happened many times, the passion of avarice [D (Latin)] overcame the merchant, and he behaves faithlessly and wickedly toward the one who trusted him, and violates the truth; and when

^A he had found an opportunity for his wickedness, he pretends to deposit it, but having deposited nothing, he shut the empty vessel and went away. But he who "catches the wise in their craftiness," [Job V, 13] as the holy Scriptures say, was not about to let the saint be deceived in such a manner, so that simplicity and liberality are not easily deceived and lightly despised and shamed by those more crafty. See, then, how the wise and just providence of God arranges for the one who attempted to commit an injustice against another to suffer injustice himself. For having, as it seems, spent the gold on expenses rather than for profit, and having then been driven to poverty, he remembers his former path, and coming to the great Spyridon, he sought the gold which he had not deposited, as if he had deposited it. The saint was not unaware of the knavery, but calmly, as was his custom, ordered him to go and take it. He, as one who had done nothing base or ungenerous, went off to take what had supposedly been deposited. And when he opened it and found the vessel empty, just as he had left it, he reported this to the saint, thinking he was unaware of it, but he heard a command to search more diligently: "For from the time you deposited it," he said, "no one else's hands have taken what was deposited." And he again pretends to search; but since it was impossible to find that which was not authentic, feigning ignorance, he said again that he found nothing at all. But that good and gentle man said, "If, my dearest friend, you had truly deposited it, you would have found what you deposited easily; but if that which remained with you is what you are now seeking to obtain from us, know that you are deceiving yourself rather than us." ^B Having heard this, and at the same time possessing the hidden sting of conscience rebuking him, he could not bear it, but immediately fell to the ground and, grasping those holy feet, begged for pardon. The saint, however, forgave him more readily than he asked, yet exhorted him for the future not to covet the things of others in such a way, nor to defile his conscience with guile and lies. "For that which is acquired from such things," he says, "is not gain at all, but manifest loss."

XXXV

^A but because he wished by this wise plan to bring glory to his servant, and to show what was unknown to many: what manner of man Spyridon was among bishops. When night had now fallen, the patriarch remained still engaged in prayer; and a certain divine vision appeared to him, telling him not to be troubled that the idol had not fallen, for it had been reserved for Spyridon, so that it might fall overthrown by him alone, and that he should summon him from Cyprus without delay, for the man was the bishop of Tremithus.

The patriarch acted according to what had been commanded, and having sent letters, he summoned the saint. The letters indicated both the reason for the summons and the vision that had appeared, and that he should by no means refuse to come. He obeyed immediately; for as soon as he had finished reading what was written, he began his journey, and embarking on a ship, he sailed for Alexandria. The ship docked at Neapolis (which is a notable port of Alexandria); and he, disembarking from the ship, prayed in his mind. As soon as his feet stepped onto that land, the abominable image—which had vied to be stronger than the prayers of many—was utterly overturned by the very church itself, and ground into dust. ^B This also made known to the Pope the arrival of the saint, which was not yet manifest. For when those who had seen that idol fall of its own accord reported it, the Pope immediately said, "O friends, Spyridon from Tremithus is here." And they, having made haste (for they had been instructed by him to go and meet him), came upon the great man while he was still at the landing.

Who, then, living in the farthest parts of the earth, remained ignorant of this miracle? The Byzantines knew of it, the Emperor himself knew, and all the cities in between perceived it; and the report spread through almost the entire world. It is impossible to say ^C how much benefit it secured for both believers and unbelievers—turning the former toward piety and the receiving of holy baptism, and strengthening the latter more firmly upon its foundation. This is not some empty and unverified report, but the image itself speaks and testifies to it, which stands between the gate called the Archonticum and the temple of Tremithus, where the holy relics of Spyridon are, explaining it in part along with other things. We must proceed to his divine end.

XXXVI. The time was summer, and the crops were abundant, and the fruit was heavy-eared and manifold for the saint. ^D Being a worker who made use of his own hands for the most part in doing the work, he took a sickle in his right hand and began to reap. Suddenly, very fine drops of dew—though God was not causing rain anywhere at that time—fell upon his sacred head alone, the Divine indicating to him that he too, flourishing in virtues like some fair crop, was being visited by the dew, and that before long, this fruit also would be gathered by the Lord and Husbandman. And another, even more marvelous thing followed this miracle; for as he held his head with his right hand, displaying to those present that it was flourishing with dew, hairs immediately...

^A darkened, and white ones bloomed simultaneously; I know not what God was signaling through these things. But he, as it seems, having understood, said to those present: "Know, friends, that I am already departing from the body; but the Lord will surround the memory of my departure with great glory, and for many men the day of my death will be a cause for a feast, and every age, of the young and the middle-aged and the old, will celebrate it with zeal." Having said and foretold these things and many others, but also having exhorted them as was fitting, and having gone through every good and saving thing in summary to those present, and much more regarding the most general and greatest of all other virtues—the love, I say, towards God and one’s neighbor—not long after, just as he had said, he released that pure and holy soul. He became a worthy fellow-dancer with the angels, yet not entirely departing from men, but even more so acting as an advocate now ^B that he is closer to God and enjoys greater boldness before Him. Many, then, are the things that have occurred through him after his death, and which still occur to this day. But we, so that we may not immediately bring the miracles to a close at the end of his life, nor again extend the writing too much, having mentioned one or two, we shall bring our discourse to a rest in God.

XXXVII. One of those who are lovers of Christ, and who love the saint ardently, but who love the truth no less, said that when his feast day was being celebrated (it is celebrated on the twelfth ^C of the month of December), he too approached the tomb as if he were about to encounter him living, displaying upon his countenance much reverence and awe for him. When he was near, and was about to fix his eyes, he said that he felt such a divine visitation working within him, and it had so penetrated his heart, that he was caught up on high in spirit, and perceived by vision only the beauties that are there: being forgetful of all earthly things, and forgetful of his own body, and nearly devoid of voice and speech, and also fasting, and neither emitting a voice to anyone, nor admitting food or drink throughout that entire day, except only that he partook of the Divine and holy Body and Blood. But at another time, a ^D more evident miracle occurred to him, and the manner of recounting it is most agreeable. He said that, as the feast day invited him again, having come to Trimithous, and worshipping and embracing the casket which contained the holy relics, he was likewise indeed filled in heart with light, and his soul was filled with pleasure, and he inferred from the things present, as much as it was possible, what good things await the saints. Then he also went to the market to purchase some household goods and garments, as a covering for the poor and needy, as the time of the year called for it, for it was cold. When he had bundled them up, and it was time to head home, as necessity demanded, there was a gathering of clouds, as is common in winter; for heavy rain was threatened, and the worry was not small, thus struggling, and the burden...

^A having been entrusted to the pack-animal, to cut his path home. He sets forward, therefore, with good hope, and having placed his furniture and all that he had in clothing upon the beasts of burden, he himself runs to the saint’s temple, and as he was, he embraced the reliquary, and clinging to it warmly as if to one living, he asks that he might share his journey with him, and become a good guide for him and for all who were with him, and that he might make the road easy for them by restraining the threat of the rains and the violence of the winds. He, having prayed these things, departed from Tremithus. But the saint, just as he had prayed, not only fleeing his gaze, but even appearing before his eyes, was present with him throughout the whole way, just like one of the travelers. The rain, indeed, because of the turbulence of the air and the gathering of the clouds, was, to speak briefly, imminent, but it was held back by the power of the holy man, and its force was checked. And when the man reached his house, the saint immediately became invisible; but his heart was again illuminated with an ineffable light and overflowed with joy, as if the saint had touched it and imparted to it his own gladness and delight. And when the saint had vanished, and the man had entered inside the house, the rain immediately followed—very heavy indeed, and continuing for so long that it did not cease for three whole days. And so, at that time, he dispelled the difficulty of the journey, just as at other times he dispelled another distress for him.

^B XXXVIII. The feast day of the great Spyridon was being celebrated, but it was not possible for the man to come again, and the matter seemed a grave calamity to him; and he prayed that he might not be deprived of his customary visitation and grace. What then? The prayers were not yet finished, and it seemed to him that he was going to the temple, and at the same time he sensed his arrival and partook of the usual illumination and sweetness, and he seemed to himself to enter the temple, and having prayed, to have been with him throughout the entire glorification; and when he had blessed all who were present, he finally departed.

XXXIX. My discourse, even if it has not told all of his deeds, has at least said enough for those who are lovers of virtue. But how he cares daily for ^C those who ask for his help and protects them, no others could say as is fitting except those alone who enjoy his miracles and grace at every hour. And it is necessary not to deprive pious men of this either: if any one, questioning, should seek to know whence such a sea of miracles was Spyridon’s, and by what good deeds he had succeeded in appearing so pleasing to the Master, let him know that all good things converged upon him as if by agreement, and this became the definition of an excellent life. And one sign, as it were, and mark of Spyridon, which differed from others, was his extreme humility and moderation, and the fact that, while surpassing almost all others who had been deemed worthy of the gift of miracles, he considered himself nothing, nor did he think himself to differ from any of the base and those weighed down by a multitude of sins.

Talia quidem sunt ejus vitæ benefacta, talia autem miracula. Concedatur vero nobis quoque, ut illius aliqua (vix enim fieri potest, ut omnia) ejus auxilio imitemur: ut efficiamur etiam cum eo participes paratorum bonorum, gratia et benignitate Domini nostri Jesu Christi: cum quo Patri simul cum sancto Spiritu, gloria, honor, potentia et adoratio, nunc et semper, et in sæcula sæculorum. Amen.

THE CONTEST OF THE HOLY MARTYRS EUSTRATIUS, AUXENTIUS, EUGENIUS, MARDARIUS, AND ORESTES.

^A I. During the reign of Diocletian and Maximian, the entire Roman empire was filled with the godless worship of idols, and all men, possessed by a mutual zeal for one another, progressed in this false religion; especially as the imperial edicts were being sent daily, so to speak, to the governors of the regions, commanding that sacrifices be offered magnificently to the gods on the Calends, and indicating that those who applied their zeal toward these matters would be honored by the emperors and become known to them. But those who were in any way indifferent to their worship, and inclined toward another religion, were to be deprived of the goods they possessed, and, after many tortures, were to be brought to the final sentence of death. There was, therefore, a great persecution throughout the whole world, as all the magistrates and governors everywhere took great care to remove the entire race of Christians from the midst.

^B II. It happened, however, that at that time it was reported to these tyrants that the whole of Greater Armenia and Cappadocia were resisting their edict, and that all were now unanimously looking toward defection, having an unchangeable mind toward our Lord Jesus Christ. Caesar Diocletian was troubled by these things, and having summoned all his nobles, and held counsel with them for three days from morning until evening, he deposed those to whom had been committed the rule of both these nations, and having quelled their foolishness, he sent men...

^A from the land of the Greeks, endowed with much knowledge, nurtured in ancestral education, stern and cruel in temperament, and sharp in intellect, and most ready to speak, possessed of a nature that was unfathomable, and [full of] crafty deceit. He commanded one of them, by name Lysias, to exercise oversight over all the border troops, while the other, Agricolaus by name, he entrusted to govern the authority of the entire province, ordering that not only the border troops should serve them, but also the entire military stationed in the neighboring cities.

III. ^B When, therefore, they had descended upon these provinces, every age of man was immediately slaughtered without pity; for neither could any favorable pretext be found, nor [could they escape] the small and casual slanders that followed from enemies or from ill-willed men. The multitude of Christians was searched for and seized, and every day an uncountable number were delivered to these bloodthirsty beasts for destruction. Lysias the Duke, therefore, making his residence in the city of the Satalians, if he found anyone in this land—men or women who were holy—after many interrogations and tortures, he would send them, bound under the most secure guard, to Agricolaus ^C in the metropolis of the Sebastenians, so that they might be executed by him, and not be left in their own land, lest they should obtain care from their own friends or kinsmen, or lest their bodies be delivered to the proper holy burial. Likewise, the governor of the province sent those who originated from the Sebastenians to the Satalians, by a scheme of malice long ago devised by them. For they knew this, too—that in their unholy opinion, this would be no small part of the punishment for the athletes of Christ.

IV. ^D While these things were being done, a certain Eustratius, a scriniarius of the ducal order—and holding the first rank therein at that time—a man pious and fearing God, and living his life blamelessly, was grieved at the events occurring daily, and besought our Lord Jesus Christ, persevering in fasting and prayer, that He might become propitious to His servants and look upon His people in salvation and relief from evils. He desired also to enter into the same contest as the holy ones, and to be deemed worthy of martyrdom, but he feared the varied threats, and the insurmountable cruelty, and the multi-faceted machinations of the governor. Nevertheless, he made a trial and a test of his proposed aim in the following way. Having secretly taken his belt, he gave it to his most faithful servant and commanded him to carry it away to the church of the Arauracenians, from whence he himself had originated, and to deposit it in the sanctuary; and as for the man himself, having hidden himself in secret, he…

^A should allow the presbyter of that church, who was there at that time and known to all for his piety, when he entered to pray, to take it and keep the girdle and return to him. But if anyone else did this, he was by no means to permit it to him, but to reclaim the said girdle for himself, judging in his mind that if the presbyter took the girdle, it would be a divine counsel and providence signifying to him the successful attainment of the martyrdom he desired. But if this did not happen, he was to remain in hiding and not dare to express his boldness and freedom of speech. ^B V. When this had therefore come to pass, and the servant had returned a few days later and said that at the very hour he had placed the girdle upon the altar as commanded, the presbyter Auxentius, as if sent by someone, had entered the church and taken the girdle, the pious man rejoiced upon hearing this. Taking all his friends with him from the Praetorium at the hour of the midday meal, he came rejoicing, and showed on his countenance a great alacrity, such as he had never shown before at a banquet; so much so that all were amazed at this unusual spectacle of the man, and were anxious to know the cause of such great cheer. One of those reclining with him, younger in age, a very close friend and fellow citizen of his named Eugenius, asked him with confidence, saying: "Is it, most great Eustratius, because all the instruments of torture against the Christians have been prepared by our governor to be brought out publicly tomorrow, that such a bounty of smiles has come upon you, hoping to gain something from it?" ^C He said this because he himself happened at that time to be the Commentariensis. The holy Eustratius answered: "You have rightly guessed, friend. For I also expect to obtain an unalienable treasure from such a task tomorrow." On the following day Lysias, having set up a high tribunal in the middle of the city in the signostasium, ordered all who were in custody to be brought out for questioning. But the holy Eustratius, having gone to the prison, begged all the saints to pray for him. For he said that he himself would be a companion in the equal contest that day. ^D When they had all prayed, and had bent their knees, and had finished the Amen, they followed the holy Eustratius, being held by the soldiers. VI. When the cohort, as was customary, had stood before the judge, Lysias ordered those who had been questioned before to be brought one by one to his tribunal. Eustratius the Commentariensis said: "The imperial letters having been read again yesterday in court, which decreed that all Christians found anywhere, of whatever rank they might be, should be arrested and brought to your judgment, Auxentius, formerly distinguished in fortune and life, but more approved and adorned by the nobility and fortitude of spirit now found in him, since he is a servant of the heavenly King Christ, having a few days ago stood in

^A this tribunal, has waged the contest of immortality, convicting you, O judge, of impiety, by wisdom of words and endurance of deeds; and since you commanded that he, who had been incarcerated in public custody from that day, be brought today for examination along with the holy company that was with him, all of them stand with me, with brave and robust spirit, ready to bring to shame the devices suggested to you by your father the devil, and to deliver them to utter destruction. Hearing these things, Lysias, struck with amazement at this unexpected boldness of the man, and looking upon him with bloodthirsty and murderous eyes, and having sent forth from his lowest breast a sigh from his irascible soul, ^B thundered with his voice, saying thus: The tribunal today has become more resplendent for me than ever before, and is filled with the austerity of my paternal Greek tradition, with an orator of this pollution and iniquity laid before me. Let therefore the one standing there be stripped of the cloak and belt he is wearing, and by these signs let him show himself a stranger to everyone of the military service he has held until now; with hands and feet stretched out upon the ground, let him proceed to deliver that speech by which he defends himself.

VII. This having been done with great speed, the Duke said: May you have no regret, O Eustratius, for what you have begun to your own destruction, so that by the benevolence I possess, you might escape punishment; but make your preamble and speak, before the torments, your name and the country that bore you, and reveal to us clearly the novelty of the religion that lay hidden in you. ^C The holy Eustratius said: I have sprung from the town of the Arauraceni; Eustratius is my name, Cyrisices is the surname in my paternal tongue; and I am a servant of the Master of all, God, and of His adorable Son, Jesus Christ, and of the Holy Spirit; from my mother's swaddling clothes, I was taught and worship this faith. The Duke said: Let the cohort state, how many years has he spent in this military service? The cohort said: The twenty-seventh year is being completed in the present year, from the time when, being still small in age, he fulfilled the duty of an *exceptor*. The Duke said: Now, Eustratius, seeing the danger that hangs over you from your disobedience, and having recovered from the madness that has befallen you, use a sober mind, and do not abandon the military service that has been so well and orderly conducted by you for so many years, calling upon the power of the auspicious gods, and the benevolence of the Emperors, and the clemency of this tribunal. ^D The holy Eustratius said: No one who is ever in his right mind orders his thoughts to worship accursed demons and deaf idols constructed by men. For it is said somewhere in the divine Scriptures among us: «The gods who did not make the heaven and the earth, let them perish.» (Jerem. x, 11). The Duke said: But is a man who is in his right mind able to attend to a crucified God, as

we are, who are full of wretchedness? Eustratius said: If the senses of your mind were not altered, and if your soul had not been transformed by the mixture of passions into something earthy, I would have shown you this Crucified One, [who is] the true Savior and Lord, the Creator of all creation, co-existing with the Father before the ages, and who by ineffable wisdom has raised up our mortality through regeneration.

[VIII] When the saint still desired to continue his discourse, the wicked Duke interrupted him and said: Let this noble fellow be hoisted into the air with ropes; and let a pile of fire be kindled and applied to his chest so that it may be scorched. Moreover, let him be beaten with rods upon his shoulders three times in one stroke, so that he may contend with us more elegantly in his words. When this was done, and for many hours the saint’s inward parts and stomach were being burned by the fire placed beneath him, and his back was being flailed with rods by timely blows, not a single voice was emitted; indeed, not even any change appeared upon his face, and it was possible to perceive and conclude that he was undergoing the torment as if in another’s body. The wicked judge, astonished at this, with difficulty at last ordered him to be released from the torment, and smiling with his face, he said: What is your frame of mind, Eustratius? Tell us, do you wish me to devise some other small pleasure to add to the blows laid upon you? Saint Eustratius said: Indeed I do. The Duke said: Since, therefore, the things that please us are approved by his silence, I order that brine mixed with vinegar be poured in a great flood upon his limbs burned by fire, and that he be rubbed vigorously with sharp potsherds, until, having received through our service a great sensation of the things that are pleasant to him, he may be satisfied.

[IX] When this torment was also brought to him with great speed, he used the same constancy and strength of mind, and not even a single groan, however slight, was heard to be emitted. The Duke said: As if on a stage, this athlete of the Crucified displays and boastfully parades his superstition, as he calls it. Now, therefore, let him say whether, having been chastened by these things, he has persuaded himself to approach the sacred altars of the gods to offer worship. Saint Eustratius said: Because of the superstition and false religion that is in you, O judge, by bringing these torments upon me—as you suppose—you are unaware that you have today deigned to grant me many good things that were most of all in my prayers. For the surrounding mist and darkness, which from the grossness of the body remained in my soul, you have dispelled from me by these torments; and you have preserved my reason, which holds the primacy, as the victor over the temptations that were threatening it for a long time; and you have caused the rout of the passions that were rising up against me with such force, having granted me the unshakable fortress of the Spirit dwelling within me in immortality, in whom the riches of incorruption are stored up for me. You have also shown me a shortcut, free from affliction, through which I shall be able, while living in this earthen body, to embrace the angelic life and enjoy heavenly eternity. Now I know that I am a temple of God

and His Holy Spirit dwells in me. Depart therefore from me, all you who work iniquity, for the Lord has heard the voice of my weeping. The Lord has received my prayer. My soul shall truly exult in the Lord, and shall delight in His salvation. All my bones shall say: Lord, Lord, who is like You, delivering the poor from the hand of those stronger than he, and from those who plunder him? (Ps. XXXIV, 10; Ps. CXVII, 20). ^B Make haste then and struggle, you minister of the adversary, and do not flag in your spirit; test me like gold in the furnace again and again, and you will not find in me that filth which you love and seek in your works. For your gods are abominations, which serve only the unreasonableness of you and your emperor.

X. The Duke said: Perhaps, as it seems, a derangement of the mind has followed upon the frailty of the body; hence you have poured forth such a vast and confused babbling. For if that God of yours, as you say, could make you a partaker of immortality, He would surely have delivered you from this present scourge. Ceasing therefore to dream on empty hopes, hasten to the salvation which is set before you by me. Eustratius said: Do you wish to be convinced, you who are blind in all your senses, that nothing is impossible for my God? While he was enduring the tortures, as all gazed upon him, suddenly, as if some scales were cast off from his body, the saint stood completely whole, having not the slightest laceration on his body. ^C When all had glorified God for the miracle that had occurred, a certain Eugenius, a man from the town of Arauraca, who was himself also an official of the same cohort and was present near Saint Eustratius, cried out with a loud voice, saying: Lysias, I also am a Christian, and I anathematize your religion, and I resist the command of the emperors and your will, just as my master Eustratius does. The Duke, therefore, being angered by these things and having cursed him enough, ordered that he too be seized and brought into the midst, and he spoke thus:

XI. Since the interrogation of these men, whom it is difficult to punish, requires a favorable time and leisure, but now I am pressed to undertake the customary defense of public affairs, I order this conjurer and worker of deceptive miracles, Eustratius, and Eugenius, who has just now appeared to feel the same as he does, to be bound in iron over their whole bodies ^D and cast into the prison with the others, who are to be kept by me for another examination. Having pronounced these things, he descended from the tribunal. But the saints were all led away, rejoicing and exulting in such great patience and endurance of Saint Eustratius, and in the miraculous salvation of our Lord Jesus Christ that had come to pass through him. And as they entered the prison, they all sang with one voice: "Behold, what is good, or what is pleasant, except that brothers dwell in unity?" (Ps. CXXXII, 1), and what follows. And after they had completed the prayer, they sat

and were instructed by Saint Eustratius, and were made ready and eager by him for the struggle of the contest set before them.

XII. When that day had passed in this manner, upon the following night the duke arose and announced that he was hastening toward the city of the Nicopolitans. And while his customary retinue was preparing for the journey, he himself rushed to the prison where the saints were, and ordered only the blessed Eustratius to be dragged out. When he had been brought, the duke said to him with a mocking countenance: "Rejoice, most dear Eustratius." The saint answered: "May God the Almighty, whom I serve, return that greeting to you in a worthy manner, O judge." The duke said: "Let it be my concern regarding your God, but for now take and wear this sandal which is given to you, so that you may gladly make the journey with us." Now the sandal was pierced through with long and sharp nails, so that every part of his feet was transfixed. Having therefore shod him with this and tightened the straps, he sealed it with his ring and ordered that he be beaten and dragged for the whole journey along with the other saints. ^B He himself, with the entire army that was with him, continued the journey, and after two days they arrived at the fortress which is near the Arauraceni. And when the saints had arrived, all those of that region went out to the show, desiring to see the blessed Eustratius. But no kinsman or friend dared to approach him, lest they themselves also be arrested; for this had already been commanded to some by the wicked duke.

XIII. There was a certain man, Mardarius, a person of private life and living in self-sufficiency, who had built a house for himself in those days and was roofing the chamber. ^C But, having fixed his eyes upon all the saints, he saw in their midst, like a shining star, Saint Eustratius. And having quickly descended from the chamber, he said to his wife in the Armenian tongue: "Do you see, O wife, the master of our surrounding region—he who was so distinguished in both lineage and wealth, and had been renowned for such a long time in military service—how he has despised all things, and goes to become an offering acceptable to God, so that he may also be deemed worthy of the heavenly kingdom? Blessed is he, that he was both successful and glorious in this life, and will have great confidence before our Lord Christ, and is being deemed worthy of unspeakable enjoyment with the angels." That noble wife replied: ^D "Sweetest husband, what prevents you from also coming to him, and walking the same path as he, and attaining the same holy consummation with him, so that you may be a defender of both me and these small children, and of your whole family?" Her husband said to her: "Give me my shoes, and I will walk the path desired by me." She did this quickly, and with joy sent him forth. And having taken them, he put them on and wrapped himself in his cloak, and having embraced his two sons in his arms, he stood facing the East, and invoked the Lord, and said: "Lord, God the Father Almighty, and Lord Jesus Christ, and Holy Spirit,"

one Godhead, one power, have mercy on me a sinner, and compassionate and take charge of your handmaid and these two infants, for You are the defender of widows and the father of orphans. For I, O Master, am coming to You with great readiness." And having said these things, he kissed his children and said: "Farewell, wife; do not grieve, nor weep, but rather rejoice and be glad; for both you and my children, and my own soul, I entrust into the hands of our good God, who is able to do all things."

^B XIV. And when he had said this, he went out at a run, and came to a certain man named Mucator, who had his dwelling in the region of the Araaraceni, and held the primary position there, a man of note and very rich, and having greeted him, he said: "Behold, I go to your friend and kinsman Cyrisices, and God willing, I am becoming his companion on the road, and with him I will endure the contest of the struggle. Do you, therefore, after God, become the guardian of my wife and my children in this life, and I myself will also be a worker for you for this grace on that day when we stand before God, and you receive the reward." But that pious man said: "Go in peace, my son, on your noble journey, and do not be anxious about this matter, but fulfill your desire; for I will be with spiritual affection a husband to your wife, and a father to your children." Having heard these things, Mardarius took leave of him, and already soon thereafter, near the fortress, he reached the saints, and called to the holy Eustratius thus: "My Lord Cyrisices, ^C just as a simple sheep runs to its own shepherd, so I also have come to you, wishing to be a companion to you on the way. Receive me, therefore, and enroll me in your holy company, and present me, even if unworthy, as a martyr to the Master Christ." And having said these things, he cried out with a loud voice, saying: "I too am a Christian, just as my lord Eustratius. Hear, O ministers of the devil, hear." Then the soldiers seized him, bound him with the other saints, and having cast him into the public prison in the fortress, they reported about him also to the duke.

XV. At that same hour, roaring like a lion, ^D he sat down for the examination. And the guard having advanced according to custom, the holy Auxentius was brought in, naked, with his hands bound by ropes, while the saints stood by and saw each one of these things, and he stood with a cheerful countenance. The duke said: "Auxentius, delivering us from toil, and counting yourself worthy of salvation, do now at least instruct me if you have departed from that vain and for you destructive stubbornness, and have returned to the favor of the gods." The holy Auxentius said: "Listen briefly, Lysias; I swear to you by the justice that presides over and watches all things, that my mind is unchangeable, and that I know one God and worship Him, even if you inflict upon me ten thousand other blows for punishment, greater than those brought against me before, and even if you consume me with iron and fire, you will never be able to bend my purpose. For the rest, do what you will." Then the

^A duke pronounced sentence: "Auxentius, who after many torments and tortures still remains in his pernicious ignorance, let him lose his iron-hearted and unyielding soul through the beheading by the sword prepared for him, receiving the fulfillment of this sentence in some wooded and deserted place, so that his wretched body may be deprived of a customary burial. But let him who has just dared to offer himself to the company of the other condemned men be brought into the center, so that he may quickly obtain the honor which he seeks."

XVI. As the soldiers were unloosing ^B the holy Mardarius from the collars placed upon him, this blessed man said: "My Lord Cyrisices, pray for me, I beg you; and instruct me in what I should answer to this destructive and pestilential man, lest this savage wolf mock me as a wild and unlettered man." But holy Eustratius said to him: "Stand firm, brother Mardarius, saying only, 'I am a Christian, I am a servant of Christ,' and answer nothing else, whatever he may say or do." When he was brought forward, the cohort announced: "Mardarius is here." The ^C duke said: "Let him who has just surrendered himself to questioning reveal his name, occupation, the place he comes from, his status, and what his religion is." Mardarius said: "I am a Christian." Being asked by the attendants to state also his name, status, and homeland, he persisted in shouting: "I am a Christian." And though questioned at length, he said nothing else, save only, "I am a Christian, I am a servant of Christ." Seeing then his simplicity and purity, the wicked duke said: "Let the heels of his feet be pierced with an auger, and having been passed through with ropes, let him hang from the rim of a wheel; and let red-hot iron spikes be applied to his back, so that from such a circuit he may lose his mind and become capable of giving answers."

When this was done, and he had hung for a long time by his heels and been burned with the spits, he sent forth a voice, saying: "Lord Master, I thank you that you have deemed me worthy of these good things. I have longed for your salvation and have loved it exceedingly. Receive my soul in peace." And having said these things, he gave up his spirit.

XVII. And with the relics of the saint having been taken down, ^D the duke said: "Let him who is from the region of the Satalae, Eugenius, be brought with his body unclothed, who, when there was a questioning concerning Eustratius, dared to come forward—not, as I say, as a Christian, as they themselves errantly claim, but simply as an *achreston*, that is, useless." When he had stood by, the attendants said: "Eugenius is here." The duke said: "Tell me, most wicked one, what evil demon, having driven you to an evil fate, has brought you to such a degree of audacity that you would enter with such impudence and hold in no account the severity of the court?" Holy Eugenius said: "My God, who destroys the demons whom you worship, He himself has strengthened me and granted me confidence and freedom of speech, that I might spit upon your wretchedness, you foul dog, treasury of Satan, who along with you is being delivered to destruction." The duke said:-

- ^A "Let his perjured tongue be cut out; let him be deprived of both hands by the sword; and let the bones of his feet be crushed with staves, so that he may be more temperate toward us." When these things were done, he also yielded up his spirit.

XVIII. After the wicked duke had done these things, he went out into the field to exercise the army. As they were being reviewed, each one was demonstrating his skill in arms as the duke watched. And a certain man named Orestes, a tall and handsome man in appearance, having been called by name and rank, stood before Lysias. Lysias, having praised his appearance and called him a true soldier, ordered him to throw his spear at the target. As he was aiming his hand and brandishing the weapon, the golden cross which he wore on his breast was shaken from his garment and appeared on the outside, so that all could see it, and indeed Lysias himself as well. ^B Being brought forward immediately, he stood near the duke. And Lysias having taken the cross in his hand, asked what this might be. "Are you, too," he said, "of the party of the Crucified?" But he said, "I am a servant of my crucified Master, God, and I carry this talisman as a protection against all the evils that beset me." The duke said, "This excellent soldier also, being bound along with that executioner Eustratius, let him be his companion on the journey, for it is convenient that the inquiry concerning them be held in the city of Nikopolis." When Lysias had arrived in the city of the Nikopolitans, a great multitude of the soldiers of the legion that was in the city came to him, and all with one voice cried out: "Lysias, we too are soldiers of our Master Christ; do what you will." ^C He was at first struck with amazement, fearing lest any innovation be made against him; but after he knew that they had delivered themselves up like sheep, having loosened their belts, he commanded them all to be seized and bound and imprisoned. Regarding himself, he was considering how he might accomplish the destruction of the saints, and that there might not be any disturbance from their fellow citizens or relatives. He especially feared the holy Eustratius, lest again, when tortures were applied to him, he might perform some miracle in the same way, and not only strengthen those who were already Christians in the faith, but also turn the Greeks away from the worship of idols. ^D It seemed best to him, then, having risen the next day, to send the holy Eustratius and the holy Orestes to Agricolaus in the city of the Sebastenians. And when day had come, he ordered this to be done, writing a public letter to Agricolaus, containing as follows:

XIX.

To the most magnificent governor Agricolaus, Lysias the duke:

sleeper, or rather they have closed your eyes before that which is being cared for by you for the common good could be accomplished; and quite simply, having seen in you alone the highest point of every virtue, they have rightly entrusted the authority to you, since the office currently directed by you possesses nothing worthy of contempt. Therefore I, being a partaker of such advantages of yours, ^B have sent this Eustratius to you as a prisoner, held by the great sickness of those who are called Christians, especially since I can find nothing sufficient to turn aside the audacity of his undertakings. For even if he had attained the honor of the military service which serves under me, he was lifted up in his mind with greater pride and fell into insolence. And even if he had hoped for fear, in his desperation he disregarded the future, making the impulse of the superstition currently within him more sovereign; and even if he saw others punished for the same things, he did not restrain the boldness ^C of the religion within him through experience. But he considered what had happened to be rather an affliction of fortune than an injustice against the one punished. Having received him and Orestes, who is with him and of the same mind, submit them to your very wise judgment, following the imperial decrees. Farewell.» The soldiers, therefore, having received such letters and having taken the holy men bound, went on their way. And Saint Eustratius, together with Orestes, sang along the way: «I have chosen the way of your justifications; ^D instruct me, and I shall learn your commandments.» (Ps. cxviii, 30—31).

XX. And having completed the prayer, he asked the blessed Orestes, saying: «Brother Orestes, tell me with what zeal was Saint Auxentius finished, and in what place?» Saint Orestes said: «After the Duke had pronounced the sentence against him, he begged the soldiers who were leading him away to come and see your virtue and to salute you. But no one could bear to listen to him, or allow him to do this. But since it was the time for the meal, his belly-slaves were hastening to fulfill what had been commanded. And immediately they led him to the ravine, which we call Ororia. Coming along the way, the holy man was singing: «Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord.» (Ps. cxviii, 1). And he completed the psalm up to that very place, and having bent his knees, he prayed for a long time; and having stretched out his hands, as if receiving an offering, he stood and said 'Amen', and having looked around, he saw me standing near him, and having called me, he said to me in a mystery: 'Brother Orestes, greet the Lord Eustratius, and tell him to pray for me and [that he will] quickly reach me; for I am waiting for him.' And thus he was beheaded, while all who were suspected of being Christians were driven out, and no one was able to dare to approach the place. But the holy relics were stolen by night by the presbyters who were in Arauraca. But as his head was not found, they began to weep and to beseech God to reveal to them the sacred head of the martyr. By God's providence, a crow standing on a branch of the tree in which the head was, began to cry out. When they looked

they found the head lying near the crow, and when they had honorably lifted it up, they also lifted up his holy relics, and they transferred them to a pure and distinguished place. When the holy Eustratius heard this, he wept, and invoked God, and said to Orestes: "Let us also go, and let us hasten to come to him."

XXI. Five days later, the saints were brought to Sebaste; and they were delivered to the soldiers: and upon receipt of the letter of Lysias, Agricolaus ordered them to be kept in the safest custody. And on the following day, when he had sat on the tribunal publicly in the forum in the city of Sebaste, Agricolaus ordered the saints to be brought forward. When the whole city was gathered to view them, ^B Agricolaus said: "The letter sent by the illustrious Lysias, and the commands regarding the examination which have been written, have been read. Since it has been read, he has spoken thus: Do not think, O Eustratius, that you will escape this punishment in the same way. Therefore, before you bring danger upon yourself, submit to the edicts of the emperors, and come forward, and sacrifice to the gods." The holy Eustratius said: "O judge, do the emperors also obey the laws?" The president said: "Certainly. For they are guarded by them." The holy Eustratius said: "To you, therefore, before all others, and to those who are with you, these things are written in the laws." The president said: "Why do you say this, you impious head? Who has ever dared to act against the laws?" The holy Eustratius said: "Since it is contained in the laws of Caesar: that public affairs should certainly be administered not by persuasion in every word and deed, but rather if the one who commands persuades the one who obeys his imperial authority so that he might obtain what he desires; or if the one who is persuaded, acting of his own free will, performs the things commanded. And again, the same text continues after this verse: ^C We decree, moreover, that the president should judge, mixing mildness with fear, so that they may not be odious to anyone, nor transgress through leniency. Are these, O judge, so written, or not?" The president said: "They are. I therefore ask that the same order be observed by me as well." The president said: "And in you, and in all, the laws are to be observed with the reverence that is due." The holy Eustratius said: "Let it be so, I pray, that fear be tempered by leniency, so that you, who are most experienced of all, may wish rather to be persuaded than to punish; and that you may judge each matter with reason." The president said: "Whatever you wish, do it boldly and freely, since you take pleasure in having this judgment become a matter of persuasion." The holy Eustratius said: "There is no other, save the word and the examination; strike, do what you wish." The president said: "What you wish to say, speak with boldness, rejoicing that you are permitted to be persuaded rather than to be governed."

XXII. The holy Eustratius said: "To which gods do you bid me sacrifice, the greater or the lesser?"

The governor said: "Yes, first to Zeus, and then to Apollo, and to Poseidon." The holy Eustratius said: "Upon which wise men or interpreters are you relying, that you have found these to be worthy of adoration?" The governor said: "Upon Plato, Aristotle, Hermes, and the other wise men, of whose works if you had had experience, O Eustratius, you would venerate their memory, as they are wonderful and divine men." The holy Eustratius said: "I am ignorant of none of these mysteries, but have had experience ^A of them from my earliest youth; for I have mastered all of ancient learning, having chanced upon a father who was a lover of virtue. And if you command, let us begin first with Plato." The governor said: "We find Plato in the book which is inscribed *Timaeus*, having descended into the Piraeus to pray to the goddess. Does this man seem to you to be wise, or not?" The holy Eustratius said: "Plato utterly condemns your god Zeus—and hear the very words of Plato. For since you began with the Piraeus and his political discourses, in his second book it is written thus: 'Since God is good, He could not be the cause of all things, as the multitude say, but is the cause of few things for men; and we say that there is no other cause of good things than God, while for evils we must seek other causes, and not God.' Therefore, Homer and other poets are not to be accepted when they posit Zeus as the author of both good and evil. We will not praise, therefore, the violation of oaths and the breaking of the covenant against the Greeks, which Pandarus ^B instigated, even if one claims it happened through Athena and Zeus; nor will we praise the strife and conflict of the gods, in which he himself puts his trust through Themis and Zeus—those whom you deem gods—nor, indeed, as Aeschylus says, that a god plants a cause of ruin in mortals whenever he wishes to afflict and utterly destroy a house. And Plato wishes no one in his own state, either young or old, to say or hear anything about this. For it is not holy for a god to have been a parricide, as this Zeus of yours, whom you worship, did to his own father Saturn, casting him from the heavens and crushing him; nor to have become a swan in order to deceive a mortal woman and defile her. Furthermore, Plato is very much offended at Zeus, your god, because, seized by lamentation and womanish madness, Zeus, your god, O judge, laments inconsolably the death of Sarpedon. ^C Or is it not so? Or are these not written as fables in your books? But if Plato himself, your wise author, denies that this being is God, and commands no man who cares for virtue to imitate such passions, why do you yourselves submit to these actions of which they themselves were convicted, and why do you compel us to adore them today?"

XXIII. The governor said: "I tolerate your boldness because of the philosophy that is in me; but tell me also, whom do you worship as God? How, when He was a man, was He brought to judgment and crucified, and yet by you is considered to be God?" The holy Eustratius said: "If you command me and listen ^D patiently, I will ask..."

^A you first what my thoughts propose, and then I will speak in order what you have asked." The governor said: "Since permission has been given to you once, express whatever you wish to us, whether timely or untimely." The holy Eustratius said: "It behooves every man who is of sound mind to consider God as just, incomprehensible, incomparable, unchangeable, and ineffable, possessing within Himself divine perfections above all power. Does this not seem so to you, most wise judge?" The governor said: "So it seems." The holy Eustratius said: "We shall add that for all reasons He is also lacking nothing." The governor said: "Absolutely." The holy Eustratius said: "What then? Shall we grant that there are also other gods and say that they consist within such an incorruptible essence, even if they be but slightly lacking in this happiness? I do not think they are considered gods by men; for the divine is lacking nothing, as has been said before, which also ought to be believed and worshipped by all men." The governor said: "It is as you say." The holy Eustratius said: "What then? Do your many gods exist within these immaculate and immortal perfections, as you say, and are they equal in power to one another, not being distinct in essence? And if this is the case, those ^B who are gathered into one divinity, sharing equally in power and authority, should not be called greater and lesser gods, but God one, who is unique in incomparable power, having the name of divinity, and let them not be thought by you to be, one living in heaven, another in the sea, and another in the netherworld. Does this not seem so to you?"

XXIV. Unable to argue against these things, the governor was silent for a long time; finally, he answered with difficulty, saying: "Leave these syllogisms, and bidding farewell to your plausibility, teach what you were asked: how you worship a crucified God." The holy Eustratius said: "I shall begin with your poet Hesiod: 'In the beginning was Erebus and Chaos,' that is, darkness and the abyss of waters. Therefore, God, when He had ordered this world, not from subject or pre-existing matter, but having brought all ^C things from non-being into being, having created the whole creation by word and command, made also man in His own image and likeness, to rule and enjoy visible creation, and to be king over all the wild beasts and cattle and birds and sea creatures, whom the supercelestial powers and the orders of angels also served. But one of the archangels, who himself was chief of an order of angels, having revolted by his own will against Him who had made him, and having become arrogant, was cast out of his order and from the presence of God along with his order. Therefore, because of such disobedience of his, God cast him out from the power above, depriving him of the angelic glory. And He placed man in paradise, having given him a command which practiced him in obedience, to partake of and enjoy all the fruits in paradise, but to abstain from one single tree, setting this up as a struggle for him, so that if ^D while he sat [in paradise], the one who was no longer an angel, but the evil devil who had fallen and conspired everything against him, [should tempt him], the first man might not transgress the precept given to him by God...

and put to shame the adversary who envied him for his exceeding honor. If this had been done, man would have been immortal, dwelling in incorruption; but if not, he would no longer be permitted to remain in Paradise, but would be exiled to live and to die. The opposing demon, therefore, moved by envy against man, used various deceptions against him, and through the cooperation of the serpent, having deceived the wife of the first-created man, through her he also induced him to transgress the commandment; so that thereupon, having been exiled from Paradise by the Almighty, he was brought to the toil of sweat and to corruption. The evil one therefore held the victory and boasted of such a transgression, as if he had taken man under his own power; and thereafter, as the race of men multiplied, like a tyrant he enslaved every soul and corrupted it unto perdition.

^B XXV. When, therefore, they had fallen into great impiety, God covered the earth with a flood, destroying every living soul. But Noah, a certain just man, who had fought nobly against this evil demon and was not overcome by him, God preserved in a wooden ark with his wife and children. And having restored all the earth again to its former state, he placed him as a certain victorious citizen back upon the earth. But as time passed and men multiplied again, all impiety grew, and all were overcome by sins, and were subject to death, and were held fettered in Hades, examined for perdition by this evil devil. God, who formed us, having compassion, and no longer willing to overlook for long the work of his own hands, first granted this wisdom to the Greeks, that they might, with the unclouded eye of the soul, recognize the one Almighty God, and prevail over the opposing demon. But they, even if they seemed to recover slightly and to stand upon the path of godliness, yet, because they had perceived the vision only as in a shadow of thought, and had surmised things in various ways, they all fell back again into the ancestral error, having been overcome themselves by superstition and having fallen into worse impiety, and wandering on an impassable path. But ^C not even then did the merciful and greatly praised power of God endure for us to lie in our transgressions; whence he also gave the Law, and sent prophets, and in many ways and by many modes demonstrated to the race of the Hebrews the way of salvation. But all, retreating, fell back into the infirmity of their ancestors, and all were subject to death on account of sin. It seemed just, therefore, for our Master, God the Word, to undertake for us an equal contest, and to show us the victory over the adversary, becoming equal to us in all things except sin; and having humbled himself, and having taken the form similar to us, his servants, he was born of the Virgin, not changed in divinity, but wearing the fleece of the sheep because of the approach of the wolf. For if by the

^A greatness of his divine power he had struck down this adversary—for he could, as one who can do all things that were impossible to me—yet he would not have given him the opportunity of a defense to say: "I have conquered man, and have been conquered by God." And he would have had a ready defense, knowing that to God all things are possible, but to me, clothed with this body, it is impossible to achieve this. For the sake of the economy, therefore, the Lord Christ took on our flesh, that he might pay the debt for us.

^B XXVI. Let us take also, o judge, a likeness similar to this my narration. If you yourself, who are the lord of this city, were to see a bear or some other beast invading the city, and were to say to your servant, "Go and kill it," and he, obeying your command and approaching, were simply struck down by the beast and consumed; would you endure to command that same struggle to another of your servants, or to condemn him for his defeat, or rather his destruction? And so that you might not appear to command impossible things, you do not overlook those allies who are with you; you do not use either a horse or any weapons, even though you have and can do all things, but for the sake of your other servants, having become in front of them equal to the servant who was previously commanded and defeated, ^C like him naked and without help, you approach this beast; and having struck it, you would then condemn the frailty of the consumed servant before all, and you would instruct the others to use the same impulse and experience whenever it happens for them to meet such an encounter; and you would threaten at that time, unless perhaps they should use the vigilance shown to them continually, and guard themselves and their own. But if they were neglectful, you would threaten that they would be inexcusable and would be brought to great punishment; but those who would act manfully and imitate the virtue shown to them by their lord would be under great honor and guard, as keepers of good things and noble soldiers.

^D XXVII. Thus, therefore, our Lord Christ, the Savior of all, when his servants had been defeated and crushed in the struggle against this Satan—who is worshipped by you—by some ineffable and mystical economy emptied himself, taking the form of a servant in the holy and venerable Virgin, and having become in all things like us, without sin. And having stepped forth into this theater of life, he hid himself from the tyrant in his voluntary and most wise and saving humility, and this loathsome demon who is, as has been said, worshipped by you, having run upon him as was his habit, as against a mere man, he overcame him and destroyed all his power through his precious and saving passion on the cross, teaching us also, who have become spectators of his victory, to fight in the same pattern and to overthrow his power. He himself, therefore, took on our sufferings and granted his own impassibility to us; and to those on earth and those in Hades he granted the resurrection,

those who were near, as to those who were among those in the underworld, he granted resurrection, and having taught us, who have been deemed worthy of the adoption of sons, how to bear an invincible hand against him, if we should compete, we are crowned. We are defeated, therefore, in body, and we conquer in spirit; we fall into corruption, and this kind of fall, I mean that of death, is transformed for us into incorruption. We turn away, therefore, from your life and manner of living, which like that of irrational animals is lived in drunkenness, and we seek the angelic eternity. We do not look down toward the earth like the cattle, or even like those men who are called brutish; but standing upright we look up to heaven, where our citizenship exists; being in the body, we embrace the manner of life that is there, and have taken up a spiritual way of life. We know the irreconcilable and constant war of our soul and body, and using a sober reason, we turn away from the communion of passions with this mortal body, and we very strenuously refuse its ticklings and sweet motions of lust, and we are always exercised in leaping up with our mind and putting our members to death through endurance and abstinence from pleasant things. For we use constant and clear memories of our Lord, and unclouded speech springs forth from us, and rational faculties work in us without hindrance. These things and more than these Christ granted to us when he took on the form of man. But you are devoted to the body, and being devoted to the body, you naturally proclaim as gods those who performed the shameful works of disgrace, and you worship their set-up images, and you have become alienated from the communion of heavenly virtues, and you are ^C tormented each day not only by misfortunes, but also by the haughty and phantom-like successes of this life. You die not only in body, but also in soul, to him who never ceases to exist, [but rather] to perdition. We, however, have learned from our Lord Jesus Christ that the living spirit also reanimates the body, which is dissolved by the destruction common to all, and provides it with an essence for immortality. These things, therefore, I have set forth briefly, so that, persuaded by your wise Plato, and having learned the truth from me, you might renounce the parricide Zeus, your god, the lover of beauty, the swan who weeps much over the death of his children. ^D XXVIII. The president Agricolaus said: We are not able to discern the virtues of the great and most divine emperors, but only to yield to the commands of those who rule. Wherefore, ceasing from all superfluous speech and delay, come, sacrifice to the gods; otherwise you will be subjected to torments of which you have never heard. The holy Eustratius said: Why then have you caused us so much trouble, and did not do this long before? Then he orders an iron bed to be brought, and much fire to be placed beneath it, so that it might become red-hot and sparkling; and having ordered Saint Orestes first to be placed upon it, he says to Saint Eustratius: It is just that you should first behold in others the torments that await you, and then undergo the torture, so that you might show a more constant fortitude. But when the holy Orestes [came] to the bed

holy Eustratius, said: "Pray for me, for my mind is distressed." The saint, answering, said to him: "Do not lose heart, brother Orestes; for the sight alone possesses the fear, but you shall have no perception of it ^A if you approach with confidence; for the Lord stands by us, helping and succoring. Remember the nobility of the holy Auxentius and of the rest of the saints, and do not appear inferior to any of them; for in a little while these things shall pass away, but there remains to us in the heavens a treasure that cannot be taken away." Having heard these things, Orestes took heart and, with a brave mind, approached and leaped, and stood upon that burning bed, and having signed himself, [he] immediately lay down and stretched out his whole body upon the fire; and thus crying out with a loud voice, "Lord, into thy hands I commend my spirit," he delivered up his soul. The holy Eustratius shouted to him, "Amen." After these things, the governor ordered the holy Eustratius to be taken to prison. Having been led into the jail and having sent up the customary prayers to God, he called the servant who was with him and said to him: "Come, child, let me make a testament; for I hope that I too shall stand tomorrow before my Lord Christ." ^B

XXIX. A document having been brought to him, he made a testament, indicating in it that he wished his holy relic to be carried away to the small town of the Arabraceni and to be deposited there. And that it should not be permitted for anyone at all to touch it, but it should be deposited safely in a certain place called Analicozora, together with the saints who had been perfected with him, Eugenia, Mardarius, Orestes, and Auxentius; since these saints had adjured the holy Eustratius when they were seized, that after [he] was finished, their own relics should also be deposited with his holy relic, safe and entire. And the property which he possessed at Arabraca he assigned for the support of those who were to remain in the service of their martyrdom; the rest of all his movable goods, one half he distributed to the poor, and the other part he directed to be provided to his sisters, and he ordered his servants, having been granted their freedom, to receive their legacies. Having decreed these things, he fasted the whole of that day, and all night he persevered in praying to God and singing psalms to Him. ^C

XXX. The bishop of the city of the Sebastenians was at that time in hiding because of the persecution. He, having come to him that night and having given money to the guards, requested to visit the holy Eustratius; for he had heard of his great wisdom, and how he had put the ruler to shame together with his gods; and having entered inside and seen him, he fell on his face to the ground and entreated him, saying: "Blessed are you, child Eustratius, that God the philanthropist has strengthened you thus. Remember me also, I pray you." The holy Eustratius answered: "Do not do so, spiritual Father and lord, but looking toward the dignity that has been given to you, wait for this duty to be fulfilled for you by us." When they had sat down ^D therefore, Eustratius said to the bishop: "Since, God willing, tomorrow at the hour

I must journey to my Master Christ (and I have known the road that lies before me; for this was clearly revealed to me), take this paper of my testament and read it." When he had read it, [Eustratius] asked the bishop himself to sign it together with the clerics who were with him, and he adjured him to take the relics that had been taken away, both his own and those of Saint Orestes, to their own region, and to deposit them—as he had directed—together with the rest of the relics in the place contained in the testament, and to fulfill every other detail; saying that the reward for such a labor would be paid to him by our Lord Jesus Christ in the life to come. ^A Since the bishop had promised to do each of these things, [Eustratius] asked him to allow him to receive Holy Communion from him. For he said, "From the time I was arrested, I have not received communion." The customary ministry having therefore been brought, and the unbloody sacrifice having been completed, Saint Eustratius approached and received the heavenly pearl; and suddenly, as if lightning, it shone in the prison, and a voice came saying: "Eustratius, you have struggled well; come now, receive your crown." Having heard this voice, all fell upon their faces and worshipped God. ^B The bishop remained there the whole night, listening to him and taking pleasure in the discourse of the martyr.

XXXI. When morning had come, he departed, bidding him farewell and promising that he would overlook nothing of those things which he had established in his testament. Agricolaus, however, having risen early from his bed, sat on the tribunal and ordered Saint Eustratius to be brought in. When he had stood by, the governor called Saint Eustratius aside and said to him in secret: "Justice, which beholds all things, is my witness, Eustratius, that I am greatly anguished in my soul regarding you, because you do not induce your mind to obey the edict of the emperors. But at least simulate it in public, and in appearance worship the gods, but in your own heart believe and worship your God; He will grant you pardon on account of the necessity imposed upon you. And do not, since you are a man of such great learning and wisdom, perish miserably like one of the criminals. ^C For if this were removed from danger, I would not even ask this of you; for I have punished many of your religion, and I have pitied no one, nor have I been swayed by anyone. But I have great care for you, and on your account I was pained and distressed throughout the whole night." The holy Eustratius said: "Do not be distressed about this, nor be placed in danger on my account. But do that which is set before you by the precision of your imperial edicts; for I will not, either by simulation or in any other way, sacrifice to your gods, but I will always make confession to my Lord in all things, and in the midst of many I will praise Him. ^D Your torments, indeed, become a feast for me, and, if it pleases you, test this." The governor, having covered his face with his hand for a long time, wept, so that the entire crowd that stood around, when they realized that the governor pitied the saint, sent forth a lamentable cry, and there was great mourning in the city. But he said

so that even the Greeks were grieved. But saint Eustratius said, "Why do we delay, O judge? The Almighty God will make void the machinations of your father the Devil; for he himself devises these things for me, so that he may hinder the prize set before me. Do therefore what you will; for I am a servant of Christ, and I oppose the decree of the emperors and your will. And I turn away from and curse the abominations of your gods, for both they and those who worship them are accursed." When, therefore, the governor saw his resistance and his great zeal, he could scarcely bring himself to pronounce against him thus: "Since Eustratius has disobeyed the decree of the emperors and has not wished to sacrifice to the gods, I order that his iron soul, having been scorched by fire, shall receive the end of life." And having said these things, he departed running to the praetorium. ^B

XXXII. When the holy Eustratius was being led away, he stood and prayed thus while all were listening: "Magnifying, I will magnify you, O Lord, because you have looked upon my humility, and did not shut me up in the hands of the enemies, and rescued my soul from necessities. And now, Master, let your hand protect me, and let your mercy come upon me, because my soul is troubled and sorrowful as it departs from this body. Lest perhaps the evil counsel of the adversary encounter it, and hinder it in darkness on account of the sins committed by me in ignorance during this life. Be merciful to me, Master, and let not my soul look upon the dark faces of the evil demons. But let your joyful and luminous angels receive it. Give glory to your holy name, and by your power lead me to your divine tribunal. As I am judged, let not the hand of the prince of this world lay hold of me, to drag me, the sinner, into the depths of Hades. But stand by me and be my savior, helper, and defender; for these bodily torments are joys to your servants. Have mercy, O Lord, on my soul which has been defiled by the passions of this life, and receive it pure, for you are blessed unto the ages. Amen."

XXXIII. When he had prayed these things, the furnace being already kindled and burning intensely, having made the sign of Christ's cross, ^C saint Eustratius entered into it, singing and rejoicing, and thus handed over his spirit. The holy Eustratius was perfected on the thirteenth of the month of December. The bishop, therefore, having taken up and wrapped his body with haste, performed all the things commanded in the testament by the holy martyr to the glory of the great God and our Savior Jesus Christ, to whom is the glory and the power unto the ages of ages. Amen.

MARTYRIUM OF THE HOLY MARTYRS THYRSUS, LUCIUS, CALLINICUS, PHILEMON, AND APOLLONIUS

^A I. When our Lord Jesus Christ, having entered into the fellowship of the flesh, benignly walked upon the earth, as Paul says, (for God sent forth his Son, made of a woman, made under the law), and led us to the knowledge of the truth through wonders, through signs, through apostolic speech and teachings, and through the brave and admirable men who followed after, and in every way worked for our recall from wickedness: then he who from the beginning was the manifest enemy of our race, seeing these things and not enduring our correction, moved everything, as they say, against us. And since he could not attack us by himself, he once again used previous devices, and through others stirred up seditions, and moved wars, and plotted every kind of trap. For when he had artfully suborned Decius, who then ruled the Romans, he was greatly disturbing the Christians, tearing them apart, dragging them to judgment, inflicting upon them unbearable punishments, and finally death. The reason, however, was that they could not be persuaded, having abandoned the true God, to worship the vain and empty abominations of the gods, which are called by false names. At that time, the strong athletes of piety—Lucius, I say, and Thyrsus, and the truly Callinicus ^B (for he was indeed a glorious victor)—chose to die for Christ, having first been subjected to many tortures: all of which they overcame by endurance, and then consecrated their very bodies to him whom they desired as a holy sacrifice. The famous region of the Bithynians brought them forth; and being illustrious in both lineage and glory, they were far more eager to acquire for themselves splendor from piety.

II. Since, therefore, the persecution against the Christians still endured, and indeed grew yet greater at that time, and the decrees of impiety were being sent everywhere, and it was permitted for all to punish Christians, especially...

those entrusted with public office. Yet these men stood against those who were tyrannizing the laws of God and assisting the institutions of piety that were being wronged, and they showed great strength both by what they said and by what they suffered. ^A For there came one from Nicomedia, by way of Nicaea, to the city that nourished them—which was called Caesarea after one of the ancient Caesars—whose name was Cumbricius. He was most diligent in attending to the temples of idols, the altars, the sacrifices, and whatever else was pleasing to the demons. And he was not content to do this alone, but he was also ambitious to ensure that the whole army would be partakers with him in this impious work, frightening some with threats and leading others aside with promises and the hope of benefits. Lucius, however, who was distinguished among the citizens for his wisdom and learning, and was also, as we have said, of noble birth and from an illustrious family, was dreadfully troubled by these things, and his soul was set aflame with divine zeal. ^B From that moment, he could no longer bear to keep his piety hidden, nor could he contain his freedom of speech any longer, considering that the time was most opportune to make it manifest, and that the zeal he had long been laboring with should be brought to light. He approached the defender of impiety at once and said: "Why, Cumbricius, do you so miserably and unhappily arm yourself against your own soul, worshipping the senseless and deaf idols of the demons, and drawing many into the fellowship of this ominous superstition, so that we appear to have less sense than the very stones and wood, when we ought rather to recognize the true God and Savior, and walk in the light of truth, leaving behind the darkness of error and all such vanity?"

III.

martyr ^B to be cast out of the city and beheaded. The martyr was therefore led by the executioners, not sorrowful, not afraid, showing no trace of sadness upon his countenance, but altogether joyful and cheerful, as if he were being led away not to be beheaded, but to be crowned, which indeed he was about to obtain in heaven. Led far from the city, therefore, he is thus perfected, and his blessed head is truly severed. But heaven already held him, crowned with an incorruptible crown and rejoicing with the angels.

IV. But when the fame of the proceedings under Cumbricius had spread everywhere, and all the Christians were in hiding because of his cruelty, Thyrsus, armed on all sides with divine zeal (for he too was born of noble station ^C and came from that same region of Bithynia), came into his presence and said, "Hail, most excellent governor." And when he returned a like greeting, "Is it permitted," said Thyrsus, "to speak to you who holdmagistracies whatever one may wish, or must one only submit to your commands without uttering a sound at all?" The governor, as it seems, having forgotten how he had dealt with Lucius before this, said, "It is permitted; nor has anyone to this day been deprived of this freedom, especially if he can speak things that contribute to the common good." Thyrsus then said, "And what speech could be more useful than that which benefits the soul? For I, seeing you causing ^D many to suffer loss in that which is the principle of salvation, and leading them away from the right belief, and miserably drawing them into the error of idols, and knowing clearly that you are kindling an entire hell of fire against your own head—or rather soul—I deemed it profitable to approach you with the frankness that befits a free man, to converse with you truthfully, and to learn for what reason, having left the Creator of heaven and earth and of mankind, you have chosen rather to worship the works of hands made by men, saying to the wood, 'You are my father,' as the divine Jeremiah says, and to the stone, 'You have begotten me,' and turning your back and not your face to God who begot you; and bringing to bear every zeal, and omitting no instance of force or necessity, to persuade all men, if possible, to share in your evil belief."

V. To these things the governor replied: "This untimely and excessive freedom of speech shows that you suffer from the disease of those who are called Christians. Verily, however, leave the solutions to these empty inquiries and trifles to those who sit in schools, who are evidently free from public cares; for they will clearly solve each of these for you. For the present, however, yield to the commands of the emperor, and go to sacrifice to the gods; if not, you will find a most timely recompense of torments for your untimely words." But he, "Since you are," he said, "God's rational creatures, endowed with"

^A speech by Him, it is not right that we act foolishly and unthinkingly, but that we should submit all things to judgment and reasoned deliberation. If you yourself wish blindly to follow those who have irrationally decreed for the Emperor, then, since I am not now persuaded to abjure Christianity, do what has been ordered for you, having no regard for judgment or reason." And Cumbricius said, "Perhaps it is because we have dealt with you gently and kindly that we have made you more arrogant and insolent. But since I see that you are so intelligent and of such an acute and sharp mind, I advise you to yield before you are tortured. For transition to the better is indeed a noble thing, whenever it occurs; but for a man neither to understand what is necessary himself, nor to be persuaded by another speaking to him—and then, after having endured many torments, later to learn what is beneficial—I do not think avoids the suspicion of madness. Go therefore now to the temple and render to the gods what is due; for thus you shall obtain forgiveness for your previous offenses, and you will be reconciled to the great Emperor, and will be honored by us throughout your life." But the martyr said, "I have long since considered these present matters, and you have not approached me at a time when I was unpracticed; for having examined the matter with many arguments previously, and having utterly laughed to scorn your idols, and furthermore your unclean altars and sacrifices, thus I chose the true and most pure faith ^B of the Christians. Therefore, if anything has been permitted to you by the sovereign against us, do not hesitate."

VI. Immediately therefore, his anger having long been swelling, he ordered certain youths, strong of hand and leaping upon the martyr with great violence, to strike him with their fists; then, having bound him tightly with straps from his extremities, both hands and feet, they pulled him violently in both directions, so that the joints of his limbs were loosened, and the man was torn apart limb by limb ^C and piece by piece. Yet he, even while suffering these things, not only showed no sign of pain upon his face, but appeared rather more cheerful and blooming in his cheeks. Wherefore the cruel man, thinking that this was not sufficient for a torment, and also envying the cheerfulness and the bloom of his face, released the martyr from his bonds, but ordered his eyelids and his eyes to be pierced with iron. This having been done, Thyrsus, filled with a certain divine boldness, as if by something holy, rebuked the governor with even greater freedom of speech, and used the things he was suffering at his hands as a proof of his words. "Heed me," he said, "you who have handed me over to countless deaths, and behold the ineffable power of my Christ, how He fills us with boldness ^D and girds us with strength from heaven, and permits us to participate in His own beauty. For the more you destroy my body, the greater beauty you add to me. For the stigmata that are received for the sake of the Lord adorn both souls and bodies more beautifully than any ornament: and the blood which is shed for Him,

^A just as if it were irrigating us, makes us appear with a countenance both blooming and cheerful.

VII. To this, that pestilent and destructive man, not knowing what to do, or how he might restrain the noble man’s freedom of speech and escape the lashes from his tongue, felt his anger seethe and his wrath swell; he commanded that the martyr’s jaws be struck with bronze acorns until his teeth were dislodged. But the athlete endured even this torture with the same joy and cheerfulness as before, blessing the Lord at all times, and His praise was continually sung in his mouth; which things further kindled the furnace of anger in the governor and stirred up the flame even more. What then? "Do not, by any means, Thyrsus," he said, "think that grave and harsh things will cease for you here. For the things that have preceded were but small things, and such as the occasion suggested to us; but experience will show you what follows, and you shall know henceforth what are the rewards for those who disobey." But the martyr said, "Well done! But do not envy us these greatest of goods." "I will not envy," he said, "but rather I will lavish upon you even the things that are possible." And immediately lead was melted over a fire, a bed was prepared, and the just man was stretched out prone upon it. And observe with me, in this instance, the wickedness and perversity of the governor. ^B Meanwhile, he brought in certain tricksters and those who were apt at persuasion to him, trying to dissolve and enervate the martyr’s constancy; and they spoke with him pleasantly and advised him to remit something of this extreme stubbornness and at last to obey the governor. "For so," they said, "you will both escape the danger impending over you and will participate in great goods; and your God will surely forgive the weakness of nature, and will take nothing ill in this, being, as we hear, for the most part humane and merciful."

VIII. But the martyr said, "For this very reason, I will stand all the more firmly, and I will endure torments for His sake. For if you, when you hear of the unending punishments that await you, do not turn back at all, nor decline the manifest danger to your soul, ^C why, having suffered such things, should I not bravely endure these temporal punishments, which have the kingdom of heaven as their reward, and goods that shall receive us after the end and shall warm us forever? But how long will you act wickedly of your own accord, contending against truth so manifest? So much so that even this lead may bear witness to your malice, and may deliver many to the fire that cannot be extinguished, that it may punish your immedicable impiety eternally." He indeed was saying such things, while divine grace filled his heart. But they—for "the words of a true man are base," says holy Job—thinking that he was babbling and speaking in vain, poured the lead, still boiling and white-hot, ^D upon his bare back. And the lead passes over them

^A and lightly touches the surface, harming him not at all. Then, suddenly moving like a stream (this is the work of Thy power, O Christ), he destroys many of the unbelievers. The martyr, therefore, rises from the bed unharmed, but the miracle fills those who were present with great fear, and it also strikes the ruler himself with utter astonishment.

^B IX. Moreover, it was necessary to understand and to recognize who was able to do such things, but he was truly blind of his own choosing. "For you have seen many times," says Isaiah, "and have not kept guard. Your ears were opened, and you have not listened." He was all the more enraged against the martyr, and he called him a sorcerer, a wizard, and such like. Furthermore, he subjected him to even more bitter tortures. But he remained standing, still demonstrating the same courage, and a voice was heard from above, encouraging the athlete even more, troubling the souls of the ungodly and casting them into perplexity, while strengthening the faithful on the rock of faith and instilling in them greater zeal. The ruler, therefore, not bearing the shame, immediately sends the holy man to prison, having put him in chains, saying that there was a need for further deliberation and for more novel tortures against this prodigy-worker and [man of] terrible defiance. The martyr then more fervently fell toward the Master and sought a closer union with Him, and prayed to be adopted as His son through baptism. For he was still uninitiated ^C and not yet perfected in the mysteries of the Christians, and He appears to him about midnight and gives him baptism twice: now indeed by water, and a little later also by martyrdom, in which he himself was also baptized.

X. Immediately, therefore, the doors of the prison opened of their own accord, and the martyr was released from his chains, and having gone out of the prison, he comes to a certain Phileas, a man who was bishop of the Church of the Caesareans, who, on account of the terrors of the ungodly, was avoiding his throne and the assemblies, hiding himself and keeping out of sight. This bishop, having long heard of Thyrsus and the boldness and courage he had displayed, and admiring him and holding him in honor, when he saw him then approaching him, ^D immediately fell at his feet. And he, having likewise fallen before the bishop, raises him up and said, "Do not seize, honorable Father, what is owed by us. For we have come to receive a blessing, not to give one." But when the bishop said that he ought to bless him, as one who had provided a sufficient proof of virtue and had made the garment of the Spirit more brilliant through his endurance of harsh and difficult things, the martyr said, "For this very purpose I have come, that I might be clothed in the garment of incorruption and be regenerated through water and the Holy Spirit." Not

^A Do not delay, therefore, but do what is agreeable to my will and to piety. When, then, the things accustomed in this rite had been immediately performed, Thyrsus receives holy baptism, and adding to it, he says: "Lord Jesus Christ, my God, who hast deigned that I be perfected through water and the Spirit, and granted that I should be baptized with the baptism with which Thou Thyself wert baptized, deign also that I drink Thy cup and be conformed to Thy death." Then, having spoken a few things with the bishop and having exchanged blessings, the martyr returned to the prison, with a divine light preceding him and angels following, as they clearly saw who were worthy to behold it. ^B In that place he again kept watch in his accustomed prayers and conversed with God at his leisure.

XI. But as one strove to surpass another in vice, and as there was one who wished to gratify the most impious emperor with greater wickedness, a certain Silvanus, by rank a count, by race a Persian, but cruel and inexorable in inflicting punishments upon the pious, asked the emperor to be the examiner of those who were permitted to punish Christians. Having thus received absolute power over them, not subject to account, he arrives at Nicaea, performing libations and sacrifices to the demons, and celebrating banquets for them with the blood of Christians. Here it is reported to him concerning the great Thyrsus, how he was invincible to all tortures and struck men with astonishment by his miracles and prodigies. ^C He immediately sends some of his own men, both to guard the man more securely and at the same time to assail him with words themselves, and compel him to deny his religion, and by the terror of the count first to weaken his spirit. Then he himself also arrives, and first indeed sacrifices magnificently to their greatest god, Jupiter. On the following day, when he had sat on the tribunal together with Cumbricius and had caused Thyrsus to be brought forward, he orders the things that had been previously examined to be read in the hearing of all. When this was done, "Do not think, Thyrsus," he said, "that the things which are at hand will be similar to the preceding ones, but to the extent that you shall be more closely joined to the emperor and enjoy greater honors if you obey his decrees, to that same extent you shall again experience more bitter torments if you persist in maintaining this wicked opinion." ^D But the martyr said, "The same Lord Jesus Christ who previously made me more powerful than the torments of your assessor will stand by me also now, and will deliver me from your hands—I who serve Him alone and know Him alone as God, while I call idols and the gods of the Gentiles a manifest mockery and deception. But if, instead of using force, you prefer to contend with persuasion and the judgment of what is right, tell me now to whom and in what manner you wish me to sacrifice? For if I am unable to contradict anything, I will obey entirely, and I will not vainly struggle against convincing proofs."

XII. Silvanus thereupon immediately taking up the word, "Let us go," he said, "to the temple, and then it shall be manifest to you

^A to whom you are about to sacrifice." When they had gone to the nearby temple, which was that of Apollo, the comes, pointing to the image, said: "This is the god whom we worship; having appeased him, Thyrsus, and offered him sacrifice, you shall have a secure guardian, and you shall gain the benevolence of the other gods." The martyr replied, "Observe, I pray, what sort of sacrifice I shall offer, and how I shall appease him." And when all were attentive to him, he, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, invoked the ineffable power of God. And with a sudden crash of thunder, the statue of Apollo fell to the ground and dissolved into dust. The martyr, therefore, turning to those who stood around, said: "See that the gods among you are but phantoms, unable to endure even the barest invocation of the true God." Inflamed with anger at this, Sylvanus said, "I shall utterly crush and destroy your sorceries, and I will show you what benefit comes from them." And immediately the martyr was cast into an iron machine, and iron combs tore him, and the fibers of his body were ripped away, and his flesh flowed continuously to the ground; but they did not extinguish his ready spirit, but rather further provoked his zeal and ardor.

XIII. Since subsequently he seemed to be failing, and it was thought that not even the smallest spark of life remained in him, he was released from the torments; and when the comes had caused him to be set before him, he said: "Do you wish to use your former incantations and sorceries ^C against the gods again, so that we may once more bestow upon you a second reward? And yet your whole body is consumed by torments, and your soul itself is all but failing you. But he whom you worship, and whom you call your helper, where is he? How long, then, will you persist in things that are useless, and will you not see the useful, which is set before your eyes?" The martyr replied, "What? Do you not perceive, I pray ^D, the power of Christ in me, which is present to me most manifestly, and strengthens me against these assaults? For how could a body so earthly and weak be able to resist such hardships, if divine assistance were not given to it from above? Therefore, as you may certainly know that my confession is immutable, and that my intent cannot by any reason be changed, do what you have seen fit, and refrain from none of the things which you have ordained." Then Sylvanus, having ordered a cauldron of maximum size to be brought, and having filled it with water and caused it to boil vehemently, and having bound a rope to the feet of Thyrsus, he cast him in head-first. But he, caught in such danger, did not lack for a helper. For he indeed was calling upon Christ, for whom he had chosen to suffer these things; but the cauldron was immediately burst asunder, and the water was poured out, and the martyr was preserved unharmed. The judge, therefore, being thus openly put to shame before the eyes of all, covered over his disgrace with more arrogant words, saying: "You have used, Thyrsus, your sorceries against yourself. For as much as you strive to contend against

^A me, you ignite greater wrath, but for yourself, you prepare more bitter punishments."

XIV. But Sylvanus, occupied at that time with other cares, once again committed the martyr to custody. Afterwards, intending to depart for Apamea, a certain maritime city, together with the governor of that place, he had Thyrsus bound in chains and ordered that he be dragged behind those who were following him. When they were not far from the city, Sylvanus, thinking that it was, first of all, shameful to lead him about, and then also that the distress of the journey and the chains had relaxed the constancy of the martyr's piety, he put him to another trial. Having checked their pace for a little while, he brought Thyrsus into his sight and said: "Say whether you will sacrifice, or you shall miserably depart from this life." Since he gave a reply consistent with his former ones, and even added: "Nay, but rather your own souls shall soon be torn away," they were incited to ^B greater wrath themselves, and ordered that he be dragged with lashes all the way to Apamea. "There," they say, "let him be cast into the sea with his sorceries, in which the wretch shall perish wretchedly, nor shall he even be deemed worthy of burial after death." They had not yet reached the city when the martyr’s prediction came to pass; for Sylvanus was suddenly struck with a paralysis of the limbs, and Cumbricius, seized by a violent fever, both miserably ended their lives on the fourth day. It is said, indeed, that the earth would not receive their bodies, until the martyr, having prayed, appeased the earth as it leaped up and shook, and reconciled it to those wretches.

XV. When these men had thus miserably departed from life and had paid the just penalty for their insolence toward the martyr, Thyrsus was kept in custody and bonds from that day for twenty-three days. Then there came another governor, a successor not only to the power which the former had held, but also to his character, who by a barbarian tongue was named Bandus. ^C When he had arrived at Apamea and had taken his place in the midst of the assembly that had been gathered for him, and had spoken what is accustomed to be said concerning the emperor, he then began to inquire into what had been done by those who had preceded him. Upon reading their records, he happened upon what had been decreed concerning the martyr Thyrsus. Having learned everything, partly from the records and partly from those standing by, he gathered the public into the theater the following day, and, having produced Thyrsus in the midst for examination, he said: "Are you that Thyrsus who insults the commands of the emperors and behaves insolently in this, that you have smashed the statue of the great god Apollo?" But he said: "I am he who ^D disobeys wicked decrees, and who does not offer sacrifice to the works of human hands, but sacrifices to Christ alone the sacrifice of praise, and names Him the true God." And he, also foolishly babbling like the judges who had preceded him, and thinking that he could terrify with threats one who could not be terrified, said: "Perhaps, therefore, [alt-version omitted]

^A you think that you will have the same trial again, and that the tortures will be so tolerable, that you speak so boldly and confidently. But these things will not help you in the least, when you have put to the test the punishments we impose. Wherefore, leaving aside vain words, come forward and sacrifice to the gods; but if not, when you have suffered them, you will perhaps forget all that came before." The martyr said, "I know how each of you strives to surpass those who came before you in cruelty and impiety. But I have confidence in Christ that I shall easily overcome your snares as well, and shall bind on the crown of martyrdom." And thus did the admirable athlete speak.

^B XVI. These things greatly troubled and stung the common enemy, nor could he endure the piety that shone forth in the martyr; but approaching the governor secretly, he becomes his adviser, and suggests to him now such things as he had previously suggested to the one who preceded him—even though the divine judgment from above had hindered the result—and since the judge had determined that this death, which is received in the waters, was the most arduous, and that from this two grave things again occur: namely, that the martyr’s body lacks burial, and that the Christians sustain such a loss, being thus deprived of remains that are beneficial to the community; he bound him securely on every side, put him into a sack, and cast him into the sea, thirty stadia from the shore. ^C But those who spoke magnificently and clearly against him were now put to shame and confusion, and were seen to have taken counsel in vain. For the sack was immediately torn asunder, and a choir of men in white garments—O the miracle!—received the martyr, and, as if he were walking on dry ground, led him straight to the land. Seeing this, therefore, those who had cast the man into the deep, trembling and terrified, immediately go to the governor and report what had happened. He comes quickly to the shore, looking murderous and frenzied; and when he saw the martyr standing alone, he said, "Surely your charms ^D and enchantments are of some grievous sort, through which you thus bridle the sea, as I see, and force the nature of the elements. Yet these will not help you at all, but will only bring you more tortures, and in the end will cause a most violent death." And the martyr said, "How long will you not see clearly, you wretch, being utterly blind, and suffering things similar to your own gods? For what sort of charm and enchantment is it to make even the elements slaves, and to have them submit to one's will alone? And which of the wonder-workers among you, or of those whom you deemed to be gods—whose enchantments and deceit, whose phantasies and all-deceitful inventions and artifices there are—which of them ever did such a thing at all, that a man cast into the deep should be received by the hands of angels, and should walk upon the sea, and arrive safely at the shore unharmed?"

XVII. To this the governor again replied, "Even if it is truly difficult to take life from one who has once been captured by the error of the Christians in the way that one might wish, because of the things which I wish to say,

but I will devise for you a death that is both grievous and swift. For the present, however, as I am hastening to Caesarea, let this man follow me also," he said to those standing by, and he was dragged by force and his back severely beaten with rods, so that he might obtain there the rewards and recompenses that he desires. ^A When this had happened, after the people of Caesarea learned that a new governor had arrived among them, bringing Thyrsus in bonds, they all went out together—in appearance to meet the governor, but in reality to see Thyrsus. For they were longing to see him, so that they might obtain a grace from this sight alone. ^B When they were in the city, the martyr was immediately cast into prison; and as the governor was considering by what means he might destroy him, it seemed good to him to cast him to the beasts; for he judged this death to be the most bitter and the one that could not be avoided. He therefore ordered a wooden tower to be built at the mountain itself, and all kinds of wild beasts to be cast into it; and he ordered that they be provoked to ferocity by many days of hunger, and then that the martyr be thrown into the midst of them.

When these things had been completed for thirty days, the count gathered the whole populace into an assembly at the temple of Zeus, and prepared a magnificent sacrifice; and thus he brought Thyrsus out of confinement to be delivered to the beasts. But what was most grievous of all, and valid for moving his soul and inciting him to abnegation—for the enemy had perhaps devised this too—a multitude of kin and friends standing about urged him to spare himself and escape that horrific kind ^C of punishment by doing what was commanded. "For thus," they said, "you will not only be untried by evils, but you will also enjoy honors, and you will have the greatest intimacy with the emperor." But he, in regard to these things, did not do as our first parents, but rather as David, not offering his ears to bitter serpents and evil counselors; he was deaf, like him, and dumb—opening neither ears nor mouth at all.

XVIII. But he was led to the governor, who was performing the sacrifice. And he, when he saw the martyr, said: "Behold, we have been more than moderately kind to you, having granted you so much time for deliberation. If, therefore, you have counseled yourself on the things that are necessary, and have recognized for yourself what will be useful to you—especially since you see the whole country sacrificing to Zeus the greatest god—sacrifice also as you approach, and be delivered from all threats, from danger, and from a bitter end of life. But if not, the claws and teeth of beasts will tear you apart, against which there will be no one at all to help you or deliver you from these evils." And the martyr, feigning a certain repentance, said: "I have long since sufficiently counseled myself, and if Apollo, as having been overlooked, were not indignant because Jupiter alone is worshipped by me, I would not have left my own fellow citizens just now, but would have sacrificed with them in the customary manner." Having heard these things, the governor was glad, as if he had already taken that noble Thyr

^Ason, and immediately, rejoicing with him, he arrived at the temple, saying, "Sacrifice only; for I am for you a sufficient guarantor in this matter, so that no one of the gods may be angry with you." When, therefore, the martyr was attentive, and had uttered a certain prayer to the true God, a sudden, terrible earthquake rushed down; it shattered the very image of Zeus and cast it to the ground, and by its fear it shook the souls of the unbelievers. They left the sacrifice and fled as fast as their feet could carry them, but the athlete remained alone in the temple. When the governor understood the trick, he blamed himself for his kindness and clemency; however, he was more enraged against the martyr as one who had been deceived, and as one who had not only failed to persuade him, but had also incurred such manifest shame. For this reason, he hastened to carry out a bitter death for him who had so grievously insulted both him and his gods.

XIX.

XX. When the governor learned these things, he was at a loss as to what he ought to do and how he might worthily punish him. For this reason, putting chains upon every part of his body, for the present he cast him into prison. But since he was intending within a few days to go to Apollonia (and this city is not far from Caesarea), he ordered Thyrsus to follow, dragged by soldiers. Having arrived, therefore, at the city, and having settled the affairs there according to his will, since he also wanted to place a trophy of his impiety over all those who were in it.

^A and to have them as participants in his sacrifice, he knew that he must strike them with terror through his cruelty toward Thyrsos, so that no one, fearing the imposition of similar things, might disobey. He was unaware, as the saying goes, that he was sharpening a sword against himself. For he assembled a public gathering in the temple of Apollo—as it was the most illustrious of those there, both in its other magnificence and in the multitude of its statues—and he ordered certain young men, cruel in mind but strong of hand, to stand around the martyr before those images of the idols and to strike him with heavy rods. But he, ^B suffering the things present as if in a dream, did not turn toward any of the afflictions, but having directed his mind well toward the true Judge, who even dries up the abyss and melts the mountains with a mere glance, he prayed: "Let thy hand come upon me, O Lord, and do not remove thy help from me; but attend to my defense, and let me not be put to shame, because I have called upon thee." These things he prayed, and God from above brought them to pass. For a terrible crash was suddenly heard in the city, the judge was struck with the sharpest goads of pain, the hands of the martyr's torturers were loosened, and the multitude of statues was cast down and lay shamefully upon the ground. Thyrsos, therefore, filled with divine joy, said to the governor, mocking him: "Why do you not extend a hand to your own gods, who lie so shamefully and are in need of your assistance? Instead, do you look down upon them in the middle of the theater, exposed for mockery to those who are not blind?" But he, though struck with bitter pains, yet his wickedness was not curable, but he said: "The sorceries of the impious Thyrsos make my life altogether more grievous to me than death."

XXI. ^D There was in Apollonia a man named Callinicus, distinguished by his nobility and intelligence, and who always showed great superstition toward his ancestral gods; he served as their priest and minister, and for this reason, he was held in honor by all the Greeks, just like the gods themselves. Having for a long time paid attention to those things which were being accomplished miraculously and beyond expectation by the martyr by divine power, and having also been present at the overthrowing of the images, and having seen the evil which had befallen the governor, he condemned his own gods for their great weakness. Having received the seed of piety in his soul, he quietly said to himself: "O God, who art proclaimed by Thyrsos, who hast performed so many and such great wonders through him, receive me also as a newly enlisted soldier, and now confirm and strengthen me against the enemies of the truth." Having conversed these things with himself to the God of all, he approached, artfully mocking the governor, and said: "Most illustrious governor, this man, who is being miserably worn away by tortures, has cast down to the ground and crushed Jupiter, the supreme god of all; he has broken Apollo for the third time; and he has easily brought down Hercules himself, the unconquered in war—not with hands,

not with a sword, nor needing any weapon against them, but by the bare word alone and the invocation of Christ, and this, too, after He had endured that cross and death. If, therefore, it seems good to your authority, let us approach and raise up even Hercules, the god who brings help in misfortunes, and let us entreat him, shamed by the things that have long been bruited about him, to stand by his father Jove—who suffers under tyranny—and divine Apollo; for these seem to be sleeping, overcome by a deep slumber; and we shall record this for him as his fourteenth labor. ^B

XXII. The governor, however, not understanding the mockery, said: "Since I am ill right now and in a weakened state, go yourself, appease the gods for us, and quickly rouse them against this wonder-worker Thyrsus." But Callinicus said: "But I believe, he said, that the power of the God who cast them down is supreme, and I fear that they will not be able to bring help even to themselves." Then the governor perceived the deceit and said: "Have you, too, Callinicus, been taken in by the sorceries of this petty man?" And he, waiting no longer to speak more—for he could not bear to hide his piety any further—ran off immediately into a room just as he was, cut the hair from his head, took off his beard, stripped off his clothes, and taking them in his hands, carried them to the governor. Having thrown them down before his feet, he said: "Receive my hair, O governor, and my stole, which the savor of sacrifices and smoke and torrents of blood and the rites of demons have defiled. For I cast away with them my former deception, having exchanged it for a new way of life, and having now become a Christian." ^C

XXIII. The governor, therefore, struck with amazement at such an abrupt change, said: "But why, Callinicus, have the prodigies of that sorcerer prevailed so much, that they have drawn you, a noble soul, the minister of the gods, their interpreter, the priest who has attained to great favor from them, from your ancestral religion, and dragged you to final destruction?" And Callinicus said: "I am persuaded by many things, he said, and by others, but mostly Hercules himself is the cause of such a change in me; he who has completed so many labors, as the fables about him tell, everywhere, now could not stand even against the bare word of this man, but fell so miserably, showing that the things that have been bruited about him and the other gods to men are indeed pleasant fables." But the governor said again: "Not at all, but rather the love of his sorcery and similar wonders convinced you, imagining that you, too, could show the same. Yet neither that sorcerer and deceiver, nor these things, shall profit you, unless you repent quickly of your transgressions and render back to the gods their former honors." ^D

XXIV. But he, wishing to openly expose the governor's folly (for he knew, he knew clearly that the God of Thyrsus would be present for him too, and would show his own wonders upon him), "Since, he says, O governor,

your body is not in a good state, you think that I too have been deceived by some fictions and phantasms. Let us go, if you please, to the great Asclepius, and let us supplicate him together that he may calm your ailment and deliver you from your pains; and then you shall know truly that I am not inventing anything, nor did such a phantasm ever enter my mind." The governor, therefore, not understanding the manner of what was being said—but thinking that these things were spoken simply, for some repentance had already taken hold of Callinicus—took him immediately and, rejoicing, went toward the temple. ^B And when they had entered within those abominable adyta, Callinicus, with intent mind, said: "Lord Jesus Christ, who through your servant Thyrsus were acknowledged by me as the true God, and who did not reject me even though I had offended you a thousand times and transgressed your law, do you yourself rise now to my aid, and show your power in me once again." And lo, a voice was heard from above, encouraging his soul and rousing him toward the prize of the upward calling. He, being filled with courage from this, and having invoked the name of the Lord, rebuked the idol of Asclepius in a fierce and threatening manner. And that great statue did not endure the rebuke, but immediately fell before his feet as if by the hand of someone using force. Then, looking at the governor, Callinicus said: "This one, he says, will not be able to rise, unless you yourself stretch out a helping hand to him. Look, therefore, and know that these present things are not sorcery or art, but it is some God who works in me, and who is able to perform the same wonders upon you, if only you would believe in Him." The governor, therefore, being greatly distressed because he had now lost even Callinicus himself, at that time locked the man in prison.

^C XXV. When he had risen in the morning, since he knew that he would be superior to the evils being inflicted upon him, as one who had become an emulator of Thyrsus, he delivered such a sentence against both: "Him," he says, "who has recently broken away from the association of the gods and has attached himself to the deception of these wretches whom they call Christians, Callinicus, I order to undergo death by the sword; but Thyrsus, who prides himself in many prodigies, and who even brought

forth much sweat, yet the wood remained unaffected, with the saw not biting into it at all. Finally, as the men pressed more vehemently, the chest opened of its own accord; and the athlete emerged with a bright and blooming countenance, just as if a certain divine joy had taken possession of his soul. Then, ^A astonishment seized everyone who was standing by—both those who were present to inflict the punishment and those who were present merely as spectators—and such was the greatness of the miracle that no one had the power to touch him.

XXVI. The martyr, perceiving that the course of his struggle was already coming to an end, and having heard a voice from above calling him to the prizes, ^B lifting up his hands and mind at once to the heavens, "I give thanks to you, Lord Jesus

they persisted, and nothing of what was present troubled them.

XXVIII. ^A There was a certain man, Apollonius by name, a reader by order, who, having seen the form and the multitude of the torments, was filled with fear in his soul, and his readiness of spirit was dissolved. And being caught by a double fear—on the one hand, of the imminent punishments, and on the other, of the impiety of denying—he turned to the middle point between both, so that he might neither deliver his soul to the demons nor his body to the tormentors, but manage equally to escape both their sacrifices and their punishments. And how this came about, the narrative is now ready to explain. There happened to be a man standing near him, a Gentile by religion, Philemon by name, a piper by trade, who for this reason was called "Choraules" by those who dwelt in that region. He used to delight Arrianus as well, when he was slightly relaxed from his cares and turned his attention to pleasure. When Apollonius saw him standing nearby, he called him over and promised him four gold coins if he would offer the sacrifice in his place, and thus free him from the torments and deceive the onlookers, and Arrianus himself, by pretending to be Apollonius. Philemon agreed to these things, and, putting on his garment and hiding his face as best he could, he went toward the sacrifice. ^B Yet it was God who was bringing these things about in a wondrous way, attracting Philemon to Himself through Apollonius, and weaving for Apollonius the crown of martyrdom through Philemon, and thus providing through one another an occasion for both to become members of His household.

XXIX. For when He had then enlightened Philemon, and had caused him, as he changed his garment, to change his soul as well, He made him to be that very thing which he was pretending to be. For, having signed himself as a Christian with the sign of the cross—that in this too he might show forth Apollonius—he went straight to the governor himself. ^C But when the latter saw him, he asked those who were standing by who he was. And when they said: "He is, as it seems, one of the Christians," and the governor immediately ordered him to sacrifice, then Philemon, having changed his mind more easily than his garment—and as if he had been struck with awe by what he was imitating, or rather having added to the appearance the reality itself—cried out in a clear voice, as loudly as he could: "I do not sacrifice; for I am a Christian, a servant of Christ, of Christ the living God." And the governor said: "Did you not see a short time ago, how many and what kind of punishments Asclas and Leonides suffered, and were then condemned even to death?" ^D But he replied: "This very thing, indeed, became to me a cause for martyrdom, that Asclas and Leonides thus struggled for Christ a short time ago, and from that I reaped the greatest teaching of patience and a proof of fortitude. And besides, the miracle which they recently showed on your ship—which, while it was being carried through the middle of the river's bed, they brought to a stop—who would it not induce to prepare himself for the same struggle for piety?" Since the governor despaired that he could turn him from his resolve,

^A he said, "Summon the pipe-player Philemon to me; perhaps, softened by the sweetness of those pipes and the siren’s song, he will more easily change his mind"—the fool entirely ignorant that this very Philemon was one and the same, using the same tongue, only that before he spoke through lyre and pipes, but then he spoke by the divine Spirit.

XXX. When, therefore, almost the entire band of his attendants had scoured the people and could find Philemon nowhere, the governor said, "His brother Theon must be summoned; he will surely teach us where Philemon is." But when Theon had arrived, knowing nothing of what Philemon’s intention was, he pointed out his brother and said, "This is Philemon." The governor immediately ordered him to uncover his face, and upon seeing him, he began to laugh loudly and immoderately, thinking that Philemon was doing this entirely that he might mock the Christians, and that he had for that reason put on that disguise, so that he might give others cause to laugh. He then ordered him to cast off the act and the pretense, and to draw near and sacrifice with him. But when Philemon stated the contrary—that he served Christ, which is the truth, and that he held the gods of the other as play and ridicule—a great astonishment and doubt took hold of the judge. ^B Looking at Philemon, therefore, he said, "By the very safety of the Romans, Philemon, are the things that are now happening regarding you true, or are they a mockery and sneer at the Christians?" But he said, "I do not swear by the safety of the Romans, but by my own salvation and my Lord and King Christ; I swear that what is seen is not mockery, nor play, nor fiction, but a true conversion of heart and a most certain faith in Christ; and for this confession I am ready to undergo not one only, but, if it were possible, unnumbered deaths."

XXXI. These words filled the governor with anger, and turning to those standing around, he asked whether he ought to kill Philemon at once, who had so openly offered such insult to the gods and had shown himself to be notoriously impious, or whether he should grant him time for consideration and repentance for what he had done. The people, then, (for their desire for Philemon was intense, and they all hung upon his tongue and his pipes) immediately begged the governor not to destroy him, calling him the common pleasure of the city. ^C But he, wishing to break his resolve and his ready zeal of spirit, said, "Do you see, Philemon, how the multitude is held by a great love for you, and how they call you a common pleasure and deem you a common joy? Do you then, at least, mindful of their applause and praises, do what is customary for you and them, and sacrifice to the savior gods. For look, the greatest feast is soon to be held, in which you shall sing most gloriously, and you shall delight your soul with the praises of these men, and you shall charm our ears with your songs." To this Philemon said, "This festival, governor, reminds me of the festival that is held there; and the honor and praise of music makes it so that, by the vision...

^A of the angelic hymnody, it draws me along. Know, therefore, that you will labor in vain in attempting to change my mind; and not only will you gain nothing, but you will even kindle in me a greater desire for Christ."

The governor then said, "But even if you should endure all the painful things you spoke of for Christ's sake, what profit will you have from this? For the matter will not result in martyrdom for you, even if you choose to suffer everything, since you have not yet become a Christian, nor have you received baptism according to their laws."

^B XXXII. When Philemon heard this, he cried out, "O spiritual fire, which has been kindled in my heart, how much I owe you, O governor, since, even against your will, you have benefited me in the greatest way by reminding me of holy baptism." Having spoken these words to the governor, he stood in the midst of the crowd and cried out loudly, "I beseech you, if there is any among you who is a Christian and who despises torments for the sake of piety, let him come forward quickly and impart to me the divine baptism." But when he saw that all were overcome by fear and could do nothing youthful as the time required, he was troubled in his soul with grief; and lifting his voice, he immediately joined it with hot tears: "My God, Christ," he said, "who looked upon me kindly and called me back from deep error, do not despise me in this way, uninitiated in the divine baptism, but in whatever way you wish, show me both a priest and water, by whom and in which I may be baptized, like the other Christians."

As he said this, a cloud immediately descended from above and, having encircled him as he stood in the midst, baptized him. Then the cloud went up again; and he, having been baptized with the heavenly stream before the eyes of all, said, "It was permitted for all of you to see, you who are Christians but ^C do not yet wish to make your piety manifest, how, when no one dared to approach me, the Master himself came forth openly and shared with me the greatest gift of baptism. Behold, then, and be freed from both fear and ignoble cowardice. And you, too, observe, O governor, having abandoned madness that possesses nothing useful; know to what God you have irrationally made yourself an enemy, and how you are destined to pay the penalty with Him as your judge."

XXXIII. When the martyr had spoken thus, the governor, paying no attention to the wonderful things he had seen or heard (for vice is truly blind), said, "Let these things be, Philemon; for there is nothing here but a delusion of the eyes and trickery. But tell me, for what cause did you find such sweet things so worthless, that you take no account of your pipes, nor does our greatest festival come to your mind even for a moment, nor does the desire of all this multitude ^D move you, who, when they have come to the theater and do not see you playing your pipes skillfully and melodiously, but see another taking up the pipes in your place, how much do you suppose they will lament, remembering your melodies and the truly sweet attraction…

and grace?” But the governor, speaking these things which are more appropriate for women than for men, and choosing to corrupt a noble soul with slavish flatteries, Philemon cared so much for what had been said that, when he realized the governor was offering him the pipes as a sort of lure and was trying to hunt him down in this way, he prayed most fervently to God to send down fire upon the pipes and reduce them to ashes and dust. “Hear me now as well,” he said, “O Lord King, and just as fire came upon me, even so let fire come upon my pipes and consume them—those which, as I run to your martyrdom, I have entrusted to the hands of Apollonius. Yes, Lord Jesus, so that no remnant of this vanity of mine may be left, nor any of the unbelievers seeing them be able to say, ‘These are Philemon’s pipes.’” ^B

XXXIV. The prayer was not yet finished when a thunderbolt descended upon the hands of Apollonius; and while it spared his hands purely by a miracle, it burned the pipes and immediately reduced them to dust and ashes, just as if someone were directing the thunderbolt, demonstrating which things one should refrain from and which ones one should touch. From this, both things were accomplished: for Philemon’s prayer reached its end and was put into action, and for Apollonius the door to martyrdom was already opening. For Theon, Philemon’s brother, running as if sent by someone, immediately informs the governor of everything that had happened: how Apollonius had clothed Philemon in his own garment, and how he had prepared him to enter the contests in his stead, and that he himself was primarily responsible for his corruption. Apollonius is therefore brought in immediately, upon whom Arrianus, looking with a wild and savage gaze, said, “What is this, you most wretched of all men, that you have done to us, and to the city, and to this poor man? That, in your arrogance, you despise both gods and laws, and in your cowardice, shrinking from torments, you exchanged your garment with him and turned his heart with some sorcery, depriving the city of its greatest pleasure? It was necessary for you, if you were so afraid of punishments, to come to me and reveal your mind. I would have entirely let you go, obeying the laws of common humanity; and you would not have had troubles yourself, nor caused them for others, but, freed from fear and dangers, you would have lived securely and without any molestation.” ^C

XXXV. When the governor had said these things, Apollonius replied, “That you should rightfully reproach us with insults and abuse, I myself would not contradict, as I am the first to accuse myself; yet not because I was the cause of such great good for him, but because I was not so much earlier for myself; and not because he put on my garment, but because I put on his. Nevertheless, since through it we have both truly been clothed in a saving garment by the judgments known only to the truthful God, know clearly that neither Philemon nor, indeed, Apollonius will sacrifice to the gods hereafter. But if previously I was accused by you of cowardice, now I will show the greatest and most evident fortitude.” Arrianus, breathing wrath at these words, ^D

^A orders him to be reserved for greater torments, and Philemon to have his eyes buffeted vigorously by three soldiers. When the people, having taken badly to what was happening, cried out for the soldiers to desist (for it pained them that he was suffering, he from whom they had previously received pleasures), the governor said, “At least have pity on yourself, Philemon; if not, then [pity] the people, whose heart is being bitterly torn apart on your behalf. For you ought to consider that if, while you are undergoing such a small and light punishment, they show such perturbation, what is it that they would suffer if you were handed over to greater evils? For I, in order to reveal my own mind to you, cannot simply believe what I see; rather, it leads me to suspect entirely that, wishing to test the city’s longing for you, you feigned being a Christian and refused to offer sacrifice to the gods. If, therefore, this is the true cause of your change, and you accurately know how much affection the people hold for you, and how, while your face is being buffeted, they themselves suffer more in their heart and soul, sacrifice yourself also, Philemon, and soothe their grief over the buffeting with the joy that will follow afterward. Let us enjoy a feast in the Serapeum, and let us enjoy at once the greatest luxury and pleasure.” ^B

XXXVI. Philemon said to the judge, “For me, the banquet is prepared in the heavens.” And turning to the people, he said, “But for us, why is there grief when I am buffeted? And yet, when I was a Choraules, many of the flatterers would strike us, and there were times when they even performed worse and heavier things; but you would laugh all the more broadly and pleasantly, and you truly considered the matter to be your own luxury. But now, it seems that your grief is the joy and pleasure of the angels, whose gladness is of great concern to me, and whom I wish to delight through myself, being a Christian and laying claim to piety.” ^C When the governor heard these things and had completely despaired of Philemon, then indeed he resorts to heavier punishments against him, and orders the ankles of Philemon and Apollonius to be bored with metal, and ropes to be tied to them, and thus the martyrs to be dragged through the whole city. When what had been ordered was quickly carried out, he brings them before him again, and approaching Philemon, he said, “Do you see, O Philemon, how the infliction of your tortures is highly grievous and painful? And where is that unconquered God of yours, and why did He not deliver you from the present necessity?” To these things Philemon said, “And do you not yet know, Arrianus, how we have demonstrated our fortitude not by words alone, but by deeds, and have put the tortures to the proof by experience? ^D You have indeed already seen many other signs of the power of our God in us: water from heaven, fire from heaven, not to mention the things you have seen through Asclas and Leonidas. But if you seek even more, I will show you others too; first, however, I will represent to you in a likeness how I am protected by Him.” Having said these things, he asks that a certain brazen *ocnus* be constructed. By this term, those who dwell in that region signify a certain kind of woman’s carriage.

^A XXXVII. When the governor had nodded his assent, and the carriage was constructed as he had requested, he ordered a small boy to be brought, and to be placed inside it and securely locked in. He ordered all those in the city skilled at archery to assemble and to shoot at the carriage as at a target, and not to cease shooting until the entire carriage was covered with arrows. Those who had gathered did as they were ordered, but the bronze—for it was of such a nature that it was designed to withstand the sharpness of arrows by receiving the blows on the outside—kept the child safe within, unharmed. But when they themselves were weary from shooting and their arrows had failed them, the child was brought out unscathed; and those around the governor stood in bewilderment, wondering for what purpose these things had taken place. The martyr, however, said to Arrianus: “This, O governor, let this be to you a clear image of my salvation. For just as this boy, although able to contribute nothing to his own aid, has nevertheless suffered no harm from so many men and arrows, being most securely protected by the bronze; in the same way I, even if countless torments were to be inflicted upon me, shall not be shaken by any of them. For the power of my Christ dulls them, surrounding me on all sides with a wall of adamant.” ^B Arrianus was filled with anger at this, and wishing to refute the words of the martyr, he caused them to be put to the test in action. For, having suspended the just man from a certain tree which stood near the tribunal—a tree called the “Persian”—he stationed archers all about him. And they shot forcefully, but he, by his prayer to his own Master, was likewise turning aside all the arrows. For some fell to the earth, others stuck fast in the tree, and others hung suspended in the air in a wondrous manner.

XXXVIII. But when their quivers had been emptied, and the martyr was suffering no harm at all, the governor, seeing these things, could not believe what he perceived, and in his astonishment, ran toward the miracle, for he was eager to learn if what he saw was true. And having approached the place, he was watching Philemon closely in the tree. At that moment, one of those arrows in the air flew down and struck him in the right eye, and immediately blinded him. But this blinding was the beginning of the illumination of the judge’s heart. ^C For he sees the wisdom of God, weaving from afar and miraculously varying the useful dispensations of events. For Arrianus, goaded by intense pain, was speaking many evils against both Christ and the Christians; yet, overcome by the evil he had suffered, he commanded the athlete to be brought down. Then, he even begged him to heal his eye, the foolish man having learned from his suffering that, since the One was revealed to be powerful to strike in such a miraculous way, He would not be unable to heal in a miraculous way as well.

But he said: “Now, indeed, I delay the healing, lest you call the beneficence a sorcery again, and I, in my thoughtlessness, render myself accountable to you. But when I have departed from the body—for the end is now near—come to my tomb, and taking dust from there, apply it to your eye, saying

unto yourself also the name of Christ, and before long, you shall immediately obtain healing.

^A XXXIX. After this, Arrianus did not delay, but beheaded both of them, Philemon and Apollonius, at once. For he said, "If Philemon is lying, I am assuaging my anger; if not, my eye will be healed." Such were the pretexts for the athletes of martyrdom; such, too, were their ends. But since it was necessary that Arrianus should not only be blind in his eye, but that he also should simultaneously be illuminated in his soul, this too follows upon what has preceded. For when the relics had been held in honor by the pious, as was fitting, and deposited with the divine martyrs of Christ, Asclas and Leonidas, Arrianus at once (for his eye did not allow him to be idle) approached, just as it had been predicted to him, and taking up some of the dust, he anointed his eye: "In thy name, Jesus Christ," he said, "for whose sake these men chose to die of their own accord, I apply ^B this dust to my eye; and if I shall see again, I myself will also say that there is truly no other God beside thee." Having said this, he immediately found a twofold healing, both of his eye and of his soul, and both of these were illuminated together; for by the one he sees the sun, and by the other the truth. He goes out, therefore, rejoicing and crying out, "I am a Christian," and confessing the favor he had received before many witnesses. Having returned home, he baptizes all who were with him, and releases thirty-six Christians from their bonds; for there were so many who were then in chains for the sake of Christ. Then, having received linens, together with many other aromatics, and along with many others and two bishops, he goes again to the chests of the saints, and faithfully and piously covers their venerable relics with earth.

^C XL. When the report concerning him had already been brought even to Diocletian, that Arrianus had turned from a Greek into a Christian, and that he would no longer endure to offer sacrifice, he sends four of his guards, ordering them to bring the man to him as quickly as possible, so that he might learn accurately if what was being said were true. These men, then, having seized him, urged him to begin the journey; but he persuaded those who were so insistently urging him—the leaders—having bought this with eight hundred coins, that he might be permitted a short time to approach the martyrs' relics. ^D Having thus been given the opportunity, he arrived and was entreating, falling prone, supplicating, and embracing the dust; and he was praying that He might bring him aid in the contest, and immediately a voice was heard from the tomb (the voice seemed to be that of Philemon), saying: "Be strong, Arrianus, and let no fear invade you. For behold, the Master is calling you to himself, and leading you to the contests, and is beginning to weave for you the crown of martyrdom. You shall have those who bring you to Him as your guards, and as partners in both your labors and your rewards." Hearing these things, he was filled with amazement, along with those who were present, and having been granted authority by the guards, he returned to his own house; where

^A having enjoyed an even more abundant grace from above, he himself predicts both the time of his end and the manner. For having called the young boys of his household, "Now," he said, "you will come with us as far as Alexandria; but then I shall be led to the emperor, and with God providing help from above, I shall complete this contest set before me on the eighth of Phamenoth, having been cast into a sack and thrown into the sea. But you (for let what has been said be a matter of care for you) come to the shore on the eleventh of the same month, at about the sixth hour, and finding my body borne on the back of a dolphin, take it up and lay it with the other martyrs."

XLI. Having said these things, he is led before the emperor Diocletian, who at first behaves toward him gently and kindly. Then a bath is prepared, and before the bath an altar; the altar was Apollo’s. And the emperor and Arrianus bathe together. But emerging from the bath and approaching the altar, "Sacrifice, Arrianus," said Diocletian, "to the great god Apollo; for thus, as is fitting, having cheered ourselves, we shall go to dinner in high spirits." But he said, "And how could I, O Emperor, after such and so many miracles of Christ, the only living God—miracles which are not mere fables and rumors, but for which our very eyes have provided us with testimony—how then could I, having seen so much, abandon Him and sacrifice to these soulless and senseless things?" ^B Thereupon, the pretense and the mask were exposed for Diocletian, and casting off at once the feigned gentleness and the courtesies, he returned rather to his accustomed ways and requited Arrianus with such things: fetters for his hands, cataracts for his feet, a deep pit in the field, and a multitude of large, millstone-sized rocks. For having bound him with these and thrust him into the chasm, they covered him from above.

XLII. Afterward, he himself also, as if he had indeed cast down his enemy, sets his throne higher. And he, the venerable one, sat with great gravity; but he commanded the soldiers to make sport of him, ^C mocking and uttering blasphemies, the wretch, saying, "Let me see what Christ will avail him, and how he will save him from my hands," and such things, the rotting dust boasting insolently. Then, having elegantly mounted his horse, he himself came to the palace like some great champion. But the providence of God, how excellent it is, and even through contrary things making its way, soon becomes manifest to him. For the emperor enters the bedchamber, intending to rest a little while; but he sees a terrible sight, (O Master and King of all, Christ, and only for the sake of Thy infinite and unsearchable power), ^D those shackles and stones with which he had cast the martyr into the pit, hung upon the imperial bed; and Arrianus himself lying on that same bed and regally resting upon it. Seeing such things, Diocletian was filled with turmoil and fear, thinking an assault of tyranny to be among the

^A palace. He cried out, therefore, and called for those who might bring aid. But Arrianus said to him gently from the bed: "Do not be troubled; no one of those who are subject to your power has risen up against you, nor are any snares prepared for you; but I am that Arrianus, the procurator of Thebaid, whom you threw into that vast chasm, saying, 'Let us see if Christ will deliver him from my hands.'"

XLIII. Because of these things, Diocletian was stunned in soul, his speech was hindered, and he was not at all able to utter a voice. Scarcely, at length, coming to himself, he went out, disturbed by fear, and filled the palace with shouting, saying, "O wicked art, O sorceries! No one until now has done such a thing," and saying many such trifles. Then, inflamed ^B by even greater anger, he ordered a sack to be brought immediately that contained sand, but was not full—rather, it was shallow and empty—in order that, as he said, he might be weighed down by the burden of the sand, and the empty part might receive Arrianus; into which, once he was cast, he ordered him to be let down into the deep sea. Meanwhile, the protectors also, as those whose souls had been moved by the former miracle, confessed themselves to be Christians, and approaching Diocletian, said: "For what reason do you order a man who has done no wrong at all, but who is rather joined and familiar to the true God, and through whom He has performed not a few miracles, so that all who have believed in that God are confident that even if someone dies, he will live, and even if he is cast into a pit and covered with stones, and even if he is under a heap of rocks, and even if he undergoes all dire things together, it is possible for him to be saved again from all of them—for what reason do you order this man to be cast into the sea like some ^C evildoer? We therefore offer ourselves with him, begging to undergo the same death as he. For we believe that the God of Arrianus, who brought him up from the depth of the earth and from chains and such great stones, will be able in every way to raise us up also and to lead us to a better and most blessed life."

XLIV. To these things he said, with much irony: "Even before, when we were of the same mind and you were eager to observe my will, you know that I did not reject any of your requests, but always heard you, and as a father of children, so I cared for you. And now also, even if you have appeared impious toward the ancestral gods and unfaithful toward us, not even so will I reject you. But since you thirst for the same death as Arrianus, I will most willingly grant this also to you." Theotychus, however, ^D who was the first of them, responding said: "O God, O emperor, toward whom we are departing and into whom we are being dissolved—He who provided us with an admirable name and to whom it was pleasing that we undergo death for Him—He Himself will reward you for the merits of your affection toward us. But if this also can be obtained from you, I ask you, O emperor, that it be permitted to divide my possessions into two parts, and that one part be consecrated to the royal treasury, and the other be distributed to orphans and wid

ows. While he was intent on saying more, the three who were with him said, "Brother Theotyches, let us entrust the care of these things to God, who takes care of our affairs; but for the present, let us concern ourselves with our own departure." ^A Because of this, Diocletian stood for a long time in deep thought, seeming to marvel at the great and noble spirit of these men in their contempt for death.

XLV. When Arrianus saw him thus affected he said, "But do not, O emperor, delay our departure any longer; for perhaps these are the malicious snares of the evil one to interrupt the course of our struggle." Then, when Diocletian had abandoned all hope of their changing their minds, he ordered four other sacks to be brought with sand, and that the protectors should undergo a death similar to Arrianus', and thus the prediction of Philemon was brought to fulfillment. ^B When they had been cast into the sea, immediately a dolphin approached, greater in strength and size than a dolphin usually is, and in many respects similar to a whale, and in its nature altogether strange and wondrous; it bore the five sacks together on its back securely ^C and, like a ship, carried the cargo toward Alexandria. The boys (for they were still waiting on the shore itself, as it had been foretold to them by Arrianus, and were watching the hour accurately), when they saw the dolphin with its load, were amazed indeed at its enormity, but no less so at the secure placement of the sacks, so that none slipped from its back even though they were by nature smooth and slippery. ^D While the boys were perplexed as to how their master Arrianus had spoken of the transport by the dolphin regarding his own body only, but now saw four others besides it, a voice more divine was heard by them, saying, "Come, and receive the bodies of your master and of the protectors. For He who called him to His own life, has likewise called them with him. When therefore you have received these things, bury them honorably with Asclas and Leonidas." And the voice was thus.

XLVI. The dolphin, however, having placed the sacks on the shore, swam back out into the sea. The boys, having reverently taken them up and placed them on a ship, were conveyed through the river. When they had sailed for three days and as many nights, they approached the metropolis of the Antinoites, where these sacred relics were to be deposited. While a deep sleep had taken hold of them, the ship, flying along with full sails, stopped in that very spot in an instant, and a voice was heard miraculously: "Theodorition (for this was the name of the helmsman), this is the place which is destined to receive the bodies of the saints." So when he had awakened and found the ship as if bound by chains, he descended from the ship; and having gone quickly to the city, he reported the miracle. Immediately, all the people flocked together publicly, carrying lamps and crowns, and singing divine hymns. And when in this way they had magnificently and splendorously laid them to rest there, and had reaped the miracles of each...

they gathered [the fruits] daily to the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, of one divinity and power, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

COMMENTARY ON THE EXPLOITS OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS APOSTLE THOMAS

(Surius for the 21st day of December; it does not exist in Greek in the Paris manuscripts.)

^B Powerful in both regards, he was known as one formed for austerity, who allowed nothing superfluous and was taught to be content with necessities alone; by the other, he was instructed in patience during labors, and in this, that he was the first to exercise himself of his own accord in distressing and harsh things.

I. In ancient times, indeed, when the apostles lived on earth, working in poverty and practicing the craft of fishing, they traveled the lands under heaven, and preached freedom to those who had served impiety, drawing them away from error by miracles for their salvation, and healing souls laboring under infidelity with the soothing ointment of faith. Yet after they migrated to the Lord, they left their bodies to the pious as pledges of salvation, so that what they did when they were present, they might accomplish even after they had migrated, granting us festivals of their memory as images of that heavenly public celebration, so that as if we were once more living with them while they were present and discoursing, we might receive the apostolic grace. Thus, even now, the most renowned Thomas of the apostles dwells with us again through his memory: Thomas, who is the father of our faith born of incredulity, and the perfect index of truth; who cut off the occasion of unbelief for the incredulous, and renders the faith of the apostles more firm through his own incredulity.

II. For when the only-begotten Son of God, who is in the bosom of the Father, not enduring to see his own creation reduced to the servitude of sin, turned in his compassion for this sake, and appeared as we are, save for sin, then this great apostle, too, after the election of the other disciples who followed Jesus, was commanded to follow the Lord. For when he was brought to light in Judea by his mother, having parents who lived in frugal circumstances, he was reared and educated by them, and was formed for a similar life, as if by some excellent tutor, instructed by poverty, and rendered fit to receive the command of the Lord. Reading the Mosaic books (for these were diligently set before the sons of the Jews), he indeed composed his character according to honesty; but he was formed for more divine things by doctrine, and, kept far from childish trifles, he was instructed and grew until he had arrived at the perfect measure of the age of Christ. For living, as we said before,

III. therefore, he used no delay or hesitation, nor did he linger at the call; but he was so quickly changed, and bound by the voice of the caller, that he manifested his obedience swifter than a word. And so indeed he becomes familiar to the Word, and is referred to the number of the others who had been called; and he becomes a disciple most prompt in the zeal of his mind, a most faithful minister, and a most approved apostle and steward of the apostolate of the nations that was entrusted to him. Immediately, he was strengthened for the apostolate, filled with divine power, and rich in the operation of miracles, and he resolved to dwell with the Word perpetually. Living with him during the entire time he spent life in the flesh, he underwent many afflictions and many persecutions and migrations with him. And sometimes, when he himself was cast out by the Jews, he was cast out simultaneously with him; and when he was sought after with stones, he himself was also sought after; at other times, when they wanted to reduce him [the Lord] to their power and inflict death upon him, he was prepared to be gladly put to death with him, sending forth that voice full of longing to the Lord: "Let us go, that we may die with him." For when the Savior was going to raise his friend Lazarus from the dead, when by his absence he allowed death to overcome nature, when he wanted to show the tomb as a place of sleep, when he wished to render the bound dead man swifter to the call than the living, then the disciples, approaching, proclaimed the fear of the Jews, recalled the stones to memory, and discouraged him from approaching, saying, "Master, just now the Jews were seeking to kill

Thee, and dost Thou go thither again?" ^A But since they could not persuade Him (for it was not right that the infancy, which was then the disciples', should bring aid to the dead against Lazarus, nor prevent the liberation from the tomb, nor allow their fear to be seen), their souls being distracted by fear and desire, they were converted to a troubled state of mind. But Thomas, promptly and readily easing the apostles' distress, said, "Let us go, and let us die with Him." For any life whatsoever is better than that which is received with the Lord, provided it be a slaying. And these things were indeed thus, and admiration detained the spirits of the apostles, as they contemplated the boldness of their fellow disciple in undergoing death.

IV. But when the cross had been fixed, and death had been suspended, and hell had been dragged captive, and the law of the tomb had been altered, and the death of Christ had become the death of death, the Savior rising after He had erected in the underworld trophies against death, appears to His grieving and weeping friends, in this also granting faith in the victory; for He who rightly made them specators of the things that had been done, certainly did not permit even him to be devoid of the first miracles. In a certain small house, fear was then driving the disciples into a narrow space; they were remaining in that place, foreseeing the danger from the Jews. ^B Into their midst, therefore, as they were hiding, Jesus enters, not uttering a voice before He was seen, not terrifying their minds by the knocking of the door: but the feet, which had walked upon the sea, entered although the doors were closed (for nature did not deny its laws at the command of the Lord), and He who had made all things enters into His own temple with the doors closed, and He who through the wood had destroyed death now brings force to bear upon the very nature of wood. Therefore Christ comes into their midst, by a miracle entering to confirm the miracle of the resurrection. And thus indeed the disciples, perceiving with their own eyes the fruit of Him whom they desired, were filled with joy. But Thomas alone was absent from the spectacle: he who, as it seems, was not present by some divine counsel, so that when he had examined the miracle more closely, he might be a more illustrious herald of the resurrection. But the Savior, indeed, when He had imparted the spectacle of Himself to the apostles, receded immediately, reserving, as it seems, a more perfect vision of contemplation for His friend Thomas.

V. But when Thomas had returned, and it came into the disciples' mind to say to him, "We have seen the Lord," he, on account of what he was hearing, being affected with joy, hearing that what he desired to happen had been done, did not believe. For excesses of great joy are wont to be slower to believe those things which are told. ^C Therefore to the disciples he said: "Unless I shall see in his hands the fissure of the nails, and shall cast my finger into the place of the nails, and shall cast my hand into his side, I will not believe." To these words perhaps the apostles might say: "What does this mean, O Thomas, the speech of unbelief? If the disciple does not believe, how shall the Jews have believed? If the apostle and friend does not admit the resurrection, how shall they have admitted it who have not crucified Him? Who will not persuade Thomas, how shall they be deemed worthy, who are admitted from the nations? Do they not strike you with shame, and draw you to faith, the immense crowds of the preceding miracles—the leper cleansed; the paralytic restored with the joints of his members whole; the blind returned to the faculty of sight; the hand affected by death which was again recalled to life; the waves, through which one proceeds on foot; and Lazarus exiting the tomb, as if it were a garment? How, you whose works you admire, do you hold his resurrection suspect? Let Caiaphas not believe; let Nicodemus scrutinize curiously; let the Jew slander. Why does Thomas doubt the resurrection?" But on the contrary, the disciple seems to say more just things: "Why is my doubt to be rebuked by you, O apostles? To the Jews I am sent as a herald of the resurrection; just as you, I go forth as an apostle to teach the resurrection to the nations. ^D How, therefore, to whom I was not a companion of the spectacle, shall I receive the mission equally as they? How shall I teach others those things of which I have no knowledge? How shall my tongue speak confidently those things of which it has no eyes as witnesses? Shall I believe bare words? But to the Jews I shall be suspect in faith, and they will condemn me for readiness and levity. The Gentiles also will not admit the words; rather they will laugh at my testimony, who from hearing alone preach the resurrection."

VI. Not much time passed, and the Lord was again present, entering to show the miracle now also in the same manner, so that what to others he granted at the same time, He might also grant to Thomas alone. Therefore He shows him the signs of the cross and of the wound which He received in his side; He shows the seal, then says: "Because you have seen me, you have believed. Blessed are they who have not seen and have believed," showing the great blessedness stored up for us, who have believed through the sermon of the apostles. Therefore, when Thomas had attained that divine and admirable spectacle, he was also the cause for the apostles that they might learn those things which they had not known before; for he confessed Him whom he had beheld to be his own God and Lord. For in truth the deed of the resurrection belongs to God. But when after these things Christ could not be seen by the disciples for the most part, as one who had been glorified in the incorruption of the body, and could not be beheld by mortal eyes, He rendered Himself manifest when He wished, and when He knew it to be useful to those who were looking. So when the sight of the Lord was wanting to them, they took care of their old trade, in which they had been educated. That was, to ascend the boat, and to let down nets into the deep of the sea. But on a certain day, while they were intent upon fishing, the desired Jesus appeared to them, standing on the shore, and bidding them let down the net at the right side of the ship. And a multitude of fish innumerable was caught; for it was the operation of the divine command. Then at the same time Thomas was present with them, and was sailing at the same time, and at the same time was

^A diligently caring for the nets, and showing himself most ready for obedience. For by experience he had learned to believe in those things which God had brought to pass; and therefore he sailed together and labored together with the disciples.

VII. But when the time of the Assumption was now at hand, in which it was necessary for Christ to ascend to the Father ^B with that nature which He had assumed from us, He led the mystics out beyond Bethany as far as the Mount of Olives; and there, discoursing about Himself, and linking together testimonies from the Scriptures, when He had also eaten in their presence, and confirmed that He was not a spirit, as they had supposed, and then with uplifted hand had imparted His blessing to them, He indeed ascended into the heavens: but they returned to Jerusalem with great joy. For why should he ^C not rejoice, and take delight with the other disciples, this most sacrosanct and great apostle, seeing the words brought to fulfillment, and that the mystery of the assumed flesh was true, and that the incredulity that had been exercised concerning it had not been in vain? And that day, indeed, fixed by the Lord, was now reaching its end in accordance with the things which He had said. And the divine Spirit, flying down to them, like the sound of a vehement breath, was immediately divided into fiery tongues. Which, when it had been upon each one, made them speak ^D in foreign tongues, so that those who heard were struck with great admiration. Then, therefore, this great apostle too, while he sat together with the remaining disciples, he also received grace in the fiery tongues; and when he had introduced into his own dwelling the whole Spirit, he was wholly its instrument, most wisely and opportunely set in motion. Thus, therefore, Thomas, strengthened from on high, was perpetually girded, and of prompt and lively spirit for preaching, fearing nothing of those things that are terrible, nor being stupefied by any of those things that are clear and illustrious.

VIII. When, therefore, matters were to the mind of the apostles, and it was necessary that the Lord’s command should receive its end, which indeed was: "Go into the world, teach all nations," one of the apostles was allotted one part of the earth, just as the Spirit, who had come to them, had defined the lot. Thomas, therefore, was sent into India, which was utterly barbarian, and was engaged in nefarious actions. Moreover, it is situated a very long way from Egypt; it is washed by a sea that is very navigable, and is indeed lacking in necessary things, yet abounds in precious items and things suited for luxury. It is inhabited by the kind of race that has been mentioned, which is very numerous, and given to commerce, and in great part naked, and, like the beasts that dwell in the mountains, leading a life. For which cause the solar rays invade the surface of their bodies more ardently, and burn them deeply, and blacken them, and make them more deformed to look upon. They worshipped idols made of every kind of material, and as for the study and cultivation bestowed upon them, ^A confirmed by long practice, it introduced a custom, stronger than any reasoning. Into this region, therefore, the great apostle entering, carried no pride or arrogance before him, nor did he speak anything haughtily or gloriously, nor did he do anything for the sake of ostentation: but, adorned with Christ’s moderation, and instead of any other ornament or breastplate, clothed in that, pale with sallow and worn hair, entirely dry and bloodless, and clearly lacking in vigor, and to speak once for all, carrying about him not so much a body as the shadow of a body, clad in a filthy and worn mantle, mild in character, useful in speech, most admirable in actions, he accommodated himself to the humble, ^B suppressing the spirit of the haughtier.

IX. When, endowed with such character and life, he had come to the Indians, and it had seemed good to him to enter into the interior parts of the nation, after he saw that they had grasped the false religion of demons, and that it had settled into the depths of their minds, he did not immediately proceed to refute them, nor did he introduce reproaches, nor did he use harshness as a remedy; for he knew that those things which are confirmed in minds by long custom cannot be easily erased, and are changed more by persuasion than by force. Therefore, he uses mildness more, and good habits, and bland words—he, a great and worthy man, who was held in honor—not from pride and swelling and magnificent words, but appearing to them from deeds and signs, and from the distinguished humility of Christ, ^C significantly adorned: by which, indeed, he was capturing them more and drawing them to the acknowledgement that he was indeed admirable in works, but mild and moderate in spirit. And so, moved by admiration, the Indians began to ask who he was, and of what race, and what his religion was, and what his pursuit. But he, for he had Christ the Master within himself, answered gently and modestly that he was by race indeed a Jew, but a distinguished disciple of that Moses, that Moses, I say, who conversed with God, then also a disciple of Christ the Son of God, who came for the salvation of the world, and that he came to announce eternal life and the salvation of souls: those who believe in whom shall be partakers of ineffable goods. Furthermore, he relates the ^D descent of Christ the Word of God, and recounts the miracles which He did while He acted in the flesh on earth; and the Passion itself, which to many seems disgraceful; the power of the resurrection, and the ascension into the heavens: "Of whom," he says, "I, a disciple and minister of the wondrous miracles which He Himself did, and of the economy, that He was God and man, was created a herald; announcing whose kindness toward men, and His immense mercy toward them, I have come even as far as you; of whom I have become a mystic and apostle. And since faith in those things that are said has come to me by the eyes themselves, I do not force those who refuse, but with all charity I embrace those who are persuaded."

X. By these, and many other words divinely uttered, the people of the Indians, introduced to the mystery, with their

accepted the seed of the Word into their souls. Then (to speak with a divine Gospel), as the Lord helped them and confirmed the word by signs following, they were gradually drawn away from the libations and abominations of the idols, and approached the true faith; and thus, transformed by the apostolic doctrines, they became familiar to Christ through baptism: so much so that the preaching reached even the king himself, although it did not penetrate to the depths of his mind. Therefore, those who by kinship were attached to the king, when they had given themselves wholly to the sermons of the apostle, could not be torn away from him. But the king himself, held by the deep darkness of ignorance, and instead of being led to the light by the miracles he ought to have witnessed, was inflamed to greater madness by that voluntary blindness, and consulted about the death of the apostle. Wherefore, quicker than it was said, he passes sentence upon him; and by spears this great apostle is taken from the midst, who for Christ’s sake willingly undertook death. The chorus of those who believed through him judged him blessed indeed; but the chorus of those who are in the heavens also deemed him blessed, and the multitude of the just applauded him, along with the apostles, seeing that sacred and divine soul ascending to the heavens, and accompanied by the orders of angels.

^B XI. But what happens next, and what does the goodness from above provide and dispense, drawing men to piety? That sacred body, decently laid out by the hands of the faithful, is buried; but the king’s son falls into a severe illness; and he was one stronger than human skill. The father, therefore (for why not, if he is a father?), is moved by nature and irrigated with tears and lamentations; but finding no solution for the evil, he remembers the miracles of the apostle, and sought some small part of his relics to heal him who was laboring. But after he learned that the apostolic body was not to be found, he ordered at least the dust that it had touched to be brought. And when this had been done, the father, having placed the dust upon his ailing son, saw him healthy, whom he thought would die, even though he had rejected of his own accord the small light of knowledge which he had already received, and was truly dead, as one who had suffered the bitter death of impiety. And these things, as far as it was permitted without wandering from the truth, were composed, and written, and dedicated to the praise of the apostle. To us, Thomas is today the cause of such joy, through whom even the barbarian nations of the Indians learned that way which leads to the heavens: and their bodies, which had been blackened by the sun's rays, emerged with bright, joyful, and lively souls, which falls under understanding, as the sun shines purely and sweetly upon them to the glory of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, one and indivisible divinity: to whom befits glory, honor, and adoration now, always, and for ever and ever. Amen.

MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY TEN MARTYRS WHO SUFFERED IN CRETE.

(In Greek in Cornelius, *Creta sacra*, 4to Venice 1745; in Latin in Surius, 23 December.)

^C I. Let another recount in speech some other thing about the much-talked-of Crete; let one describe its beauty, another its size, and one its walls and ports, and another the tempering of its seasons and the abundance of its fruits; but I shall speak first of all of that which surpasses all other things, and which alone I would call a fertility worthy of its Creator. And what is this fruit, and what is such a great ornament of the island? What else but the divine chorus of martyrs, that praised number, the most pleasant of all spectacles, and the most beneficial of all that is heard? I speak of the ten, those crowned for Christ, who, having come forth from it, most bravely testified for Christ; who have truly rendered back fair rewards, having rendered the island worthy of such honor ^D that it might win the martyrdom...

How this came to pass, the narrative shall now briefly tell.

II. That Decius, who was moved by great fury and was the most violent of all in persecuting the Christians, holding at that time the scepter of the Roman empire, appointed as proconsul of this island a certain man, also called by the name of Decius—a man who agreed with his name no less than with his character. When he came to Crete, he deemed it a petty task, and one devoid of any brutality or cruelty, ^B to kill all the Christians in it without first subjecting them to countless types of torments. Accordingly, all were searched for and found, and when arrested, were brought before him. Among them was this holy choir, a company of ten most excellent men, chosen as it were from the elite of the best cities; some of whom the greatest of all the cities there provided, while others came from elsewhere, yet all together hastened to the one city which is in heaven. When these then stood before the proconsul, what words of boldness did they not utter? By what deeds did they not clarify those words? Through what path of torture did they not pass? What punishment did they not overcome by their endurance, being beaten, tortured, dragged along the ground, pelted with stones, mocked, spat upon, and bearing every kind of insult? But these things were for them merely gymnasia and, as it were, preludes for what was to come. ^C And when it behooved them to run the great Olympics of the times—of torments, I say—and the day had been set for the tenth day before the Kalends of January, the tribunal was prepared, the proconsul presided, and the athletes were led in. Both parties were full—the one of eagerness, the other of rage and folly—and for the one, to punish even unto death was the inclination, while for the others, to endure unto their final breath was the preparation. Looking upon them with an angry and murderous countenance, he says, "What is this great madness of mind, that neither reason nor time has taught you what is conducive to your future?" Then, as if the rage he exhibited alone had terrified them and had already persuaded them to obey, he says, "Sacrifice; if not, I for my part shall say nothing more, but you shall know a little later who this Decius is, to whom you do not wish to give heed now."

III. To this, the martyrs answered, "We, O governor, have given sufficiently great proof, both by word and deed and indeed by time as well, that we shall neither sacrifice to gods, nor shall we yield to the proposals of anyone else in this matter." "But what, ^D interrupting, said the impious one, "is there no concern for you, O impious ones, regarding torments?" "By no means," said the saints; "we almost owe you thanks in this regard, that you have granted us to be feasted with these." "But it shall not be so," says the governor, "from now on; but you shall know how great is the power of the greatest gods, whom you so

impudently assail with insults, neither revering these who are present, who are both many and wise: who honor first Jupiter among the gods, and then Juno and Rhea and the rest. For what you underwent at first were, so to speak, mere shadows of punishments. But now you shall be subjected to such tortures that not only will your boldness be restrained by them, but you will also strike fear into others who are as disobedient as you, if indeed there are any such."

^A IV. To this, the bravest men replied again: "As for Jupiter, O governor, and his mother Rhea, say nothing to us; for you do not speak to those who are ignorant. For we know, from what we have heard from our fathers, both his lineage and his fortune and his way of life; and if you wish, we will show you his grave as we pass by. For he himself was also born in Crete, and became a tyrant of the local inhabitants. And he was so profligate and prone to lusts that he was mad not only for women, but for males as well; and being a sorcerer and a worker of evil, he would craftily transform himself because of his excess of intemperance, defiling himself at every hour with unseemly unions. And indeed, some who possessed the same base passions and emulated his abomination (for what is so easy as the imitation of evil?) proclaim him a god, and raise temples and offer sacrifices, so that what pleases them may seem also to please the god; and thus, it comes to be considered not only not hateful to God, but—alas!—even divine to live licentiously ^B and intemperately."

V. As this divine choir spoke, the proconsul was bursting with rage as one who was being refuted; but the mob, too, was much more enraged and rushed to seize the martyrs, and nearly tore them apart with their hands, had not Decius checked their impulse with both his hand and his voice and commanded them to stay quiet, and—what was worse—devised for them a manner of death. The torments immediately seized the holy ones; some were afflicted by one kind, others by another, but all were similar in bitterness and the excess of their pain. For one of them, being suspended, was lacerated with iron claws, his sinews were torn apart, and his flesh flowed down to the ground; another had his sides gashed with wooden stakes and sharp stones down to the bones; another, beaten with the weight of lead, had his joints unstrung and his bones crushed and shattered; and another suffered in still another way. For the bitterness of the punishments is miserable even just to hear. ^C For as it is unbearable for those with slightly more compassionate hearts to see these things, so too is it, in no small measure, a bane to recount them and to hear about them in detail. But the martyrs, even while suffering these things, bore them so easily—or, to speak more truly, so gladly—that those standing by conjectured they were not grieving so much for what they were enduring, as they were annoyed that there were not more torments.

VI. All, therefore, flowed to them as if to something new and paradoxical, both the faithful and those who were maimed in their piety; but while the former, ^D

^A marveled at the constancy of the athletes and confirmed their own piety, the others were led rather to mock their patience and to take pleasure in their wounds by reason of their excessive cruelty. For this reason, they not only felt no pity for those suffering in this way, but even provoked the governor and the executioners all the more to savagery. And if they thus spurred them on, he gave the command, and the executioners carried it out. The herald also cried out: “Spare yourselves; obey those in power; sacrifice to the gods.” But the martyrs, even in the midst of such an abundance of fearful things, were together superior to them all—to the crowd, to the herald, to the torments, to the governor himself, and before all these, to the prince of the governor, Satan, and all the power under him. For as if by a signal, they all raised one voice together: “We are Christians, the sacrifices of Christ, the victims of Christ. Even if we must die a thousand times, we will die gladly.”

VII. When everything was put aside for the business of the martyrs, Decius, that very ready minister of Satan, despairing of being able to persuade or compel them any longer, passed sentence of death against them. The holy ones were therefore led out to be killed by the sword to a place which was a short distance from the city, and was called Alonium by the inhabitants. As they hastened to this place, the martyrs showed something new and what appeared unusual to themselves. For throughout the entire course of their martyrdom, being of one mind and conspiring together, they strove only for this: which of them would be the first to meet the sword and the first to receive the crown. But Theodulus, one of this divine choir, settled this dispute, saying that he who was the last of all to depart would ^C be the first here, having undergone nothing base or unbecoming by watching the others, but having truly endured many struggles; and having become so gentle for this reason, he was also worthy of more crowns. The speech pleased everyone; and first of all they sang a common hymn to God: “Blessed be the Lord,” they sang, “who has not given us as prey to their teeth,” and what follows from the Psalmist. Then, as they approached the place, each one offered a prayer, saying, “Spare, O Lord, thy servants, and receive our blood for us, for our own, and for our fatherland, so that it may be delivered from the darkness of ignorance and with pure eyes may behold piety and thee, the true light, O eternal King.”

VIII. After each had prayed in this way, their heads, those holy tokens of victory, were cut off, and they distributed themselves to their fatherlands; and they gave their blood to the earth below—the perishing to the perishing—but their spirit to the ^D realm above—the lasting to that which always remains. After the executioners had departed following the completion of the act, some of their kinsmen, who had remained near the place, piously composed and laid out these holy remains of theirs. And at that time, she who had borne them held them even in death; but later, when the...

the power of truth, like a golden belt, has encompassed the greatest part of the habitable world, Paul is sent ^A into the island so that he might bring these to the new Rome, by which I mean the queen of cities. That Paul, whose name is great in holiness, the pontiff of glorious Rome, and who was distinguished more by his conduct than by his throne, he whose very name alone was a scourging whip to cast out demons—he, having received from the emperor selected men as assistants in his undertaking, arrived at the nation of the Cretans. Having cleared away the earth resting upon the relics, he found them, O Christ King, appearing like those who are alive and superior to corruption, as if spirit were still present in them and a moisture remained upon them, even as the morning dew. Having therefore taken them up thence with a miracle, he brings and entrusts them to the ^B illustrious queen of cities; and now they are where the holy relics of the infant martyrs have been treasured up—common saviors, protectors of the city, and wakeful guards in all grievous circumstances. Through their intercessions, may it be granted to us to attain the blessings laid up for them, by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory and power, now and always, and for ever and ever. Amen.

MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY AND GLORIOUS GREAT MARTYR ANASTASIA AND OF THE HOLY MARTYRS AGAPE, IRENE, AND CHIONIA, AND OF THE OTHERS.

MARTYRIUM OF THE HOLY AND INCLYTUS GREAT MARTYR ANASTASIA THE YOUNGER AND OF THE HOLY MARTYRS AGAPE, IRENE, CHIONIA, AND SOCIETIES.

(Greek from ms. cod. Paris. no. 1496; Latin in Surius for the 25th day of December.)

I. ^C Anastasia, the most beautiful of women, was a scion of glorious Rome; but in the splendor of her lineage and the beauty of her body, in the nobility of her soul and the propriety of her conduct, she surpassed all others and was celebrated upon the lips of all. She was indeed the daughter of a certain man of praetorian rank; but she was instructed in divine wisdom by a certain man named Chrysogonus.

^A who later adorned his own head with the crown of martyrdom, as the discourse will show as it proceeds, at the time when the impious Diocletian held the Roman scepters.

II. Since, therefore, Anastasia had washed away the false opinion of the Greeks with clear words before Chrysogonus, she acknowledges Him who is truly God in place of those who only seem to be. And now, although she did not openly profess her piety, still, having been given in marriage by her father, even against her will, to a Greek man named Publius—who attempted, as they say, to mingle things that cannot be mingled—she, on the one hand, claiming her virginity for herself above all else, and on the other hand, thoroughly loathing his religion, did not desire to live with him at all. But, so that she might approach Christ pure and not disregard any of His commandments, she meditated on this day and night and directed all her thought toward Him. ^B Indeed, frequently changing her attire and putting on cheap clothing instead of splendid garments, and concealing herself in her appearance as best she could, accompanied by a single maidservant, she went around to all the prisons. Buying entry with money from the guards, she would tend to those imprisoned there for Christ—who were in a wretched state due to tortures—with as much reverence and honor as she could; washing their feet, cleansing their hands, cleaning their filthy hair as much as possible, and clipping away the excess of their hair, which had grown long due to the long duration of their imprisonment, she diligently wiped away the blood and bound up their wounds with cloths. Then, indicating her love for them with holy embraces and providing necessary food for each one, she would depart.

III. Since these things were being done constantly, because she could not hide it from her husband, Publius found out, and immediately many guards were stationed for Anastasia, neither allowing her to exit the house nor allowing any of those into her presence who, as they said, seemed to corrupt her morals and were able to persuade her to abstain from the company of Publius. This grieved her, ^C not only because she could no longer see all the others whom she had previously tended, nor be seen by them, but what caused her more pain than anything else and struck at the very center of her heart was her teacher, Chrysogonus. Having endured many and heavy tortures for Christ for two whole years, he was then living in prison, as Diocletian had ordered. Formerly, when she had the opportunity, she visited him frequently. But then, being prevented, she made known the things that had happened through a certain old woman and through her asked him to pray for her—and the substance of this prayer was that she might escape from the impious Publius, that she might obtain the opportunity to bring to fulfillment the things she had in mind, and that she might persist in tending to those who were adorned with the wounds of martyrdom as much as she was able, and further, that she herself might end her life in an immutable purpose of piety. Having signified these things to Chrysogonus, ^D she finally informed him also of her husband's departure. For it happened that at that time Publius had been sent as an envoy by the emperor to the Persians.

^A When Chrysogonus learned of this, he bade her rejoice and do good, and to bear her present circumstances with a stout heart, and to await the end in the future that is in accord with the divine will.

IV. By these words Anastasia was strengthened, and she herself took this as an occasion for joy, and she considered that her calamity—namely, both the cruelty of her husband and the excessive savagery of her guards—was a beginning of good hope. For all of them were likewise harsh and bitter, but Codissius was most marked in his wickedness; and he, being known to Publius, received strict orders from him, especially when he was departing, that he should not permit Anastasia even to see the air outside her chamber, nor, if it were possible, to breathe freely. For he considered it a terrible thing if, on returning from his embassy, he should see the woman alive, having broken the pledges she had already made to him. Furthermore, he hoped that in this way he might also become master of her many moneys and possessions. ^B But that man encountered on the road the ending that it was fitting he should meet. For he died, destroyed by the very danger that he had expected to see happen to others, having himself suffered justly first, and having become the agent of widowhood for Anastasia, which caused her not to lament, but to exult. But Anastasia, having been freed from her bonds and from the dogs who were guarding her (for that is the more appropriate way to call them), betook herself to the common flock and the accustomed pasture of piety; and, once again putting on a modest habit, she went about the prisons and with great care and diligence not only tended to the wounds and the suppuration of the saints, but also nobly exhorted them for the struggle that lay before them. Now, what kind of fruit she reaps from this, her end will declare; but the end, certainly, is for the discourse that is now at hand. ^C

V. At this time, the impious Diocletian was staying in Aquileia. For him, other matters were considered of secondary importance, but that which was specifically sought was that no Christian who was in hiding should escape him. It is reported to him, therefore, by all who were at Rome, that a vast multitude of Christians, having been handed over to prisons and subjected to all kinds of tortures, had not yet been persuaded to abandon their piety, and that Chrysogonus was their instructor, whom all obeyed and on whose words they were entirely dependent. And he immediately ordered all the others to be handed over to tortures, and then even to death if they were not persuaded, but that Chrysogonus alone should be sent to him, ^D having considered this in himself, that if he had overcome him, he would immediately have conquered them all. Now, while he was being led to the emperor, the wonderful Anastasia accompanied him, from every side gathering and equipping him with that which pertained to the augmentation of his greatness of soul, and showing how the weakness of her sex was conquered by the greatness of soul and spirit.

VI. When Chrysogonus stood before the emperor, the latter immediately used milder words, saying, "Be persuaded, O Chrysogonus, to join our party, and to gratify the gods, and to choose for yourself the most pleasant things over the most painful, and what is profitable over what is not useful. For know well that we shall not only remit your tortures, and grant you this most beautiful light, which all enjoy, but soon also...

^A I shall appoint you prefect of the great city of Rome." But he, neither stunned by the magnitude of the imperial power, nor swayed by the vast offering of gifts, said freely: "I know one God alone, and Him I judge to be more pleasant than any light, and more desirable than any life, and more profitable than all riches. Him I worship with my soul, and confess with my lips, and adore with bended knees in the sight of all. As for the multitude of gods and fables and demons, I am so far from worshipping them that I would even counsel your Majesty to flee from them with all your might, as they have been proven to be a deception of men and an open ruin of souls. As for the gifts and honors proposed to me by you, I consider them to be no better than dreams and shadows, and I hold them for nothing."

^B VII. The emperor did not bear this freedom of speech, but, just as he had been overthrown in the first encounter, he was seized by an impulse to gratify his anger alone; and he orders them to take Chrysogonus to a desert place and cut off his head, unwittingly conferring upon him a greater benefit than when he willingly offered him gifts, thinking that he would thereby draw him over to his own opinion. And this was indeed done as he himself decreed; and that sacred body is cast upon the sea shore, where also three sisters, in soul and body and piety toward God, had their dwelling with a certain Zoilus, a pious man and presbyter. The names of the sisters were Agape, and Chionia, and Irene. This Zoilus, however, having taken up the relics of the martyr Chrysogonus, which were revealed to him, along with the head, and having placed them in a certain chest with as much honor as was fitting, hid them in his small house. And it was the thirtieth day from the time the relics had been placed there, when the ^C martyr Chrysogonus, appearing to the presbyter Zoilus in a dream, seemed to say these things to him: "Know that the impious emperor Diocletian, having been informed about the handmaidens of Christ and sisters, Irene, Agape, and Chionia, wishes to apprehend them also within nine days. Do you, however, ensure that Anastasia, the handmaid of God, cares for them as much as she can, and encourages them to undertake the contest, until they are adorned with the crown of martyrdom. But be yourself of good hope that you will receive the most sweet fruits of your labors. For not long after, you will be freed from the labors that are here, and you will be brought to Christ with those who have contended for Christ."

VIII. These things were also made known to the venerable and foremost Anastasia, and moved by the Spirit of God, she came ^D immediately to the small house, which she had not yet seen, and approaching the presbyter Zoilus, she asked for the sisters and inquired about those things which had been seen by her in her dream. When she had seen the virgins and the place where the relics of Chrysogonus were laid, having adored them with great affection and piety, and having spent one night with them, and having congratulated them, and having sufficiently fortified their spirit to manfully undergo the contests of martyrdom, she set out for Aquileia. For she knew that they, along with many others, were going to complete their course there, of

^A martyrdom, and that Providence was likewise sending her forward to the contest on a favorable occasion. And so she went on her way, and the end that had been predicted for Zoilus came to pass. For since this seemed good to God, he departed from the present life.

But because it was not fitting that the matters concerning Agape, Irene, and Chionia should be spoken of rashly by Chrysogonus, [Diocletian], who surpassed all in impiety, having learned about them, immediately had them summoned and stood them before his tribunal. ^B And admiring their bearing and spirit, and furthermore their appearance and the grace that thrived upon their faces—and knowing, moreover, that a gravity of character and a dignity of soul and nobility are not ever defeated by harshness, but rather yield to gentle words and are enticed by kindness—he himself proceeded by this path.

IX. And first, he made trial of all three together, at once praising and advising them. "I see in you," he said, "the bloom of youth and the beauty of body, and before these, a noble disposition of soul and a mindset shining no less than your outward grace; and since I have heard that you are good, and born of good parents, and in addition to this are not unversed in learning, by the gods, I feel no small pity for you if you will stand in danger regarding all these things and your own lives, and [fail to] ^C take thought for yourselves in time to do something sensible. For it is for this reason that I have deemed it worthy to have you stand in my sight and to share words [with you], so that, having been able to discern from me and from yourselves what is necessary, you might abstain from foolish thoughts and offer sacrifice to the gods. And why do you not procure for yourselves these good things: the friendship of the gods, my own goodwill, an abundance of glory, spouses worthy of your beauty, wealth and pleasures, and everything else that is or seems to be a fortunate and good thing in life?"

X. To this, she who was the eldest in age, whose name was Agape—striving also to be seen as first in love for God—having mixed freedom of speech with modesty, and having opened her lips fittingly, said: "Let no word persuade you, O emperor, that fear has terrified us, or persuasion lured us, or that the threats of torments, or the goods proposed, or pity for our youth, or mercy for our beauty, or the splendor of our lineage, could in any way persuade us to even harbor a soft or delicate thought, let alone to speak one. ^D But these very things themselves persuade us most of all to despise death, because, having been adorned by God with so many good things and excelling all others in such numerous advantages, we would appear to be thinking most absurdly if we, who have received these from God, were to thoughtlessly and ungratefully deny Him, and were to make of these things, which we are about to suffer for Him, not an opportunity to show Him goodwill and certain and stable faith."

XI. The tyrant, having admired this freedom of speech beyond measure and deemed it to be madness—and calling it such, and passing judgment entirely from himself—did not try Agape any further, but he ordered the second to be brought forward, and he brought his words to bear

^A similarly, and then despaired of the third one’s change of mind; finally, saying to them that this audacity of your responses shall in no wise be healed otherwise than by the application of torments, he delivered those women over to prison, while he himself occupied his mind with the deliberation of punishments, hastening to devise for them some most novel and grievous death.

But Anastasia, who even before these contests was a fellow-combatant with them in her resolve, did not cease to do what she was accustomed to do, encouraging them with her words toward the struggle, and by her deeds fulfilling works of providence. And she did not concern herself solely with these, nor with all the others who were struggling in like manner, but she did not neglect even those who were otherwise in need, as many as were professing the Christian religion, generously providing to some food, to others clothing, and to others both; from whom she requested one recompense, and she herself prayed that over all these he would place the golden seal, the martyr’s crown. And that she was not deceived in this hope, the narrative will shortly reveal.

XII. Diocletian, having pondered much concerning the martyrs, still having his mind in doubt, and at the same time being pressed by certain public affairs to travel into Macedonia, having entrusted the examination of these women to the prefect Dulcitius, gave many instructions that they ought to be punished. But he, having added an evil imperial mandate to his own evil nature, and having sharpened his anger to the utmost, was prepared to satiate his insatiable mind. ^B When the torments were already prepared and the virgins were standing before the tribunal, he, who was already truly blinded in his mind, suddenly began to be blind of eye also; or rather, while appearing to see and not having his eyes closed, he saw no one of those who were present. ^C Whence it came to pass that, inflamed with greatest anger, he then led them away from the tribunal even against his will; for he feared lest something more might befall him if they were present. But afterwards, when they were thrown back into prison and were already beginning to chant hymns and sing songs to God, he felt the urge to burst in and, approaching unexpectedly, to hunt down their, as he thought, sorceries and incantations. ^D But by divine will he is kept from this design also. For, having turned from the straight path and having somehow been carried away to a certain neighboring small house, which served as a kitchen for the guards, he there fell upon the cooking vessels and pots; and, having become altogether out of his mind and thinking that he held the virgins themselves in his hands, he appeared filled with soot in his face, his clothes full of ashes, and covered in smoke and stench.

XIII. When he had done what he had in mind, as he supposed, he went out from there, with all his subordinates waiting for him outside the door. But when they saw him, thinking him to be some phantom or monster, they turned in flight. He, however, thinking it was contempt, as one who had not yet sensed what had happened to him, did not go to his own house, but was proceeding to the palace with great anger and haste,

^A moving those who saw him to laughter. When he had come into the midst of the royal court and the guards, being filled with tumult, he demanded the emperor, as one who was about to encounter those who were under his own authority, as if he had been subjected to the most extreme insults by them. But they, supposing Dulcitius to be some half-wit, a buffoon, and a madman, and anything rather than the governor, were pushing him away with punches and shoves and barring him from the entrance. When, however, some of his close acquaintances, late and with difficulty, having recognized the man and conjectured what had happened, and having felt pity for his delirium, led him away to his house, he appeared even there as a disgrace to his wife, his children, and all who were in the house. Nevertheless, the thought of looking up to the light and recognizing the truth did not even then enter his mind; but, attributing what had happened to sorcery, he breathed ^B even more fiercely and madly against the virgins. And so, a tribunal having been prepared for him, he ordered the virgins to be brought.

XIV. When they were brought, he ordered them to stand naked. But when the executioners laid their hands upon the bodies of the virgins, (O Lord, Creator of wondrous things!) the tunics, like a second set of flesh and skin extended around the virgins, stuck fast, coalescing and joined to their primary flesh and bones. Astonishment at the miracle seized those who saw it, and amazement those who were told of it. And another blow again seized the tyrant. For now, even those of the same opinion as him were disparaging him for his cruelty, and condemned his voluntary blindness and madness with every judgment, and the judgment from above supported them. For immediately, by a certain divine and heavenly power, he was struck with blindness, and as if carried off into a very deep sleep and understanding nothing of what was being done, he sat sleeping and snoring as if upon a bed. ^C Therefore, his relatives led him back to his house, carrying him like some lifeless weight. Then the emperor also learned these things, and he condemned his shiftiness, and entrusted the examination concerning the virgins to a certain count, Sisinnius.

XV. He went by the same path as the emperor, dealing with them sometimes tyrannically and sometimes fawningly. When, however, saying and doing everything, he saw that while the bodies of the virgins were different from one another, they all had one mind and all said one and the same thing, namely: "You shall not terrify us by threatening, nor persuade us by fawning; for to us, to die for Christ is life, but to live not in Christ is death"; when he recognized this, he did not even then abandon all hope concerning the younger of them, Irene, but having separated her from the rest—from Agape, I say, and Chionia—he tempted them ^D last. But when, having consumed many words, he knew himself to be hunting that which could not be caught and, in plain terms, beating the air, he sentenced them to death by fire. Now then, the furnace was ready; but the virgins, having fortified themselves with prayer, the finest of weapons,

proceeded toward the fire with a single voice for their canticle and a single eager and ready spirit; and thus singing together, they leaped into the flame. But the fire was fire no longer, but a soft and gentle dew. God divided the miracle, in part fulfilling their request, and in part displaying His own power. For they were laying down their souls painlessly into the hands of God, while the fire was extinguished, and the virgin bodies of the martyrs were clearly recognized to be so unscathed and untouched that not a single piece of their clothing, nor even a hair, bore any sign of burning. Furthermore, Anastasia, who loved the martyrs, having anointed the relics of these noble virgins with unguents and aromatics, placed them with great respect and piety in a casket, making it her task to pray with them constantly in the martyrion.

^B XVI. Thus, with the two virgins consummated in Christ, the count had Irene brought forward and commanded her to sacrifice to the idols, saying, "Do not let the death that overtook your sisters seize you as well." But she said to him, "I pray to my God that I may follow them in all things." Now the tyrant, being very wily and knowing how grievous, detestable, and even more bitter than death itself to the servants of Christ was wantonness, said, "I shall place you in a public brothel, setting you before anyone who wishes, so that being defiled in soul and body, as the words of your Scriptures teach, you may perish miserably." But the martyr, having at once lifted her eyes to heaven and heaved a deep and plaintive sigh, said, "I trust in God my Savior, that He will pluck my feet out of the snare, and will deliver my soul from all impurity. For faithful is He who promised that He will not suffer us to be tempted beyond what we are able 1 Cor. x, 15. But I shall not worship your gods, nor shall I ever offer them sacrifice. For what is done by force and against the will, when it is shameful, is considered a punishment rather than a sin for those who are compelled, but it makes those who used the force liable. Therefore, this would not be my sin, just as it was not for the martyrs before us, to whom polluted meats and the wine of libations were forced into their mouths, which harmed them not at all. For if you wish to draw me to the worship of your gods not by persuasion, but by applying force, why do you not quickly make use of your power and compel even unwilling Christians to bend the knee to the demons?"

^D XVII. When the governor heard these words, he handed her over to soldiers and ordered them to lead her off to a brothel. But God, who in every way cares for His own, does not abandon them; rather, angels immediately approached the soldiers, themselves clothed in military habit and gear, and as though sent as a second party from the governor and commanded to take her elsewhere, they took her away from those who were holding her. When they had led her up to the summit of a mountain of wonderful height, they set her down there, full of fear and agitation regarding what had happened before; then, even uttering words of thanksgiving to God

^A And when the count learned what had been done, he immediately mounted his horse and rode to the mountain. And behold here with me the wonderful things of God, which call the mind to astonishment and the tongue to praise! For as he approached the place, his mind became altered; he was able to see the martyr from afar, but to draw near and lay hold of the one he saw, even though he strongly desired to, he was unable, so that the word of the divine Isaiah had its fulfillment in him, who said: “They shall grope like the blind for a wall, and as if they had no eyes, they shall grope” (Isa. LIX, 10). Such a wall, strong and secure, had been set round about in front of the damsel. Whence also, going around the hill in a circle, he remained from morning until the setting of the sun, laboring in vain and wandering about.

^B XVIII. While these things were being done, one of the soldiers who was with him aimed his bow at the martyr, and shooting an arrow, he struck her, God permitting it. But she, having spread out her hands and shaped herself for prayer, exclaimed: "Glory to you, Christ God, that you have kept me pure not only from unholy worship, but also from every other stain of defilement, and have deemed me worthy to contend for your name." Having spoken thus, she delivered up her soul into the hands of angels. But her body, when the count had departed, Anastasia took up from there and, having honorably and reverently wrapped it in myrrh and linens, laid it to rest with the sisters who had been her companions in the struggle.

^C XIX. Then the affairs concerning the martyr Theodote were also made known to the emperor Diocletian; she originated from the city of Nicaea in Bithynia, but being a Christian in religion and fervent in her zeal for that worship, she was also a resident with Anastasia and her three children in Macedonia. When, therefore, she also stood before the emperor, a certain man named Leucadius was captivated in the highest degree by the hour (for Theodote was also very graceful in appearance); he was a great supplicant to the emperor that he should pity her beauty and not destroy so prematurely a maiden of such great loveliness. And since she was also being sought for marriage, the emperor gladly gave her to the one who desired her; for he thought that through his union with her, a separation from the devotion to Christ would come about for her. When, therefore, Leucadius had taken hold of Theodote, what did he not say, what did he not do, striving to persuade her to abjure her chastity and her piety toward Christ, and to assent to impiety, and thus to come into the communion of marriage with him?

^D XX. But since in doing these things he seemed to be writing on water and singing to the wind—for such were the things said to him by Theodote: "If you desire my wealth and money, and for these reasons you strive to take me as your wife, behold, I yield these to you, having obtained Christ alone in place of every wealth; but if you love my bodily beauty, know that you are loving things that cannot be: for you would sooner change my form than my mind; even if you should consume me with fire and iron and all tortures together—

^A When Leucadius heard these things, since he was prepared to depart at that time to accompany the emperor, he left Theodote at home, and he himself immediately went on his way, not thinking that the business regarding Theodote should be handled lightly or in passing, but reserving it for a time of leisure and an appropriate opportunity. Theodote, therefore, having been released, and having taken up Anastasia, who was her equal in virtue and faith, with one mind and mutual agreement and equal zeal, they continued the habitual course of their piety, becoming everything to the Christians who were shut up in the public prisons: physicians of wounds, providers of1 money, a solace for past sufferings, and a most powerful encouragement for the future. Thus, then, were the virgins.

XXI. Diocletian, having learned again regarding the godly ones that the prisons were cramped because of the multitude of those already detained, and that all the invented torments were in vain, as no one of them was withdrawing from their confession, he ordered them to be removed from among men by various methods of death, so as to give space to the prisons; and he ordered others to be arrested who thought the same things: and first indeed to throw them into chains, and then, if they would not be persuaded to abjure their own religion, to subject them to tortures. Such was the contention of the impious one against the Christians, for the hidden tyrant, the common enemy, as I would call him, of the Christians, was inciting him to this. And indeed, many and various kinds of death were distributed among the saints: and some fire, and others water, and others the sword, and others something else beyond these from among those new inventions of his, he seized them all suddenly and in one night. ^B

XXII. The lover of martyrs, who herself was also soon to be a martyr—Anastasia—when she had learned of these things (for she had arrived in the morning, according to her custom, to care for them), when she understood that the prison was empty, filled the air with outcries, and abundant tears flowed from her eyes: she was overcome by groaning, and was torn by wailing. Being asked why she was weeping, she, fearing nothing, and not wishing to be a nocturnal disciple of Christ, but fearing rather that she might not suffer and die for Him, said with a cry: "I am seeking the servants of my God who were just now in custody." ^C When they learned that she was a Christian, they immediately seized her and brought her to Florus, the prefect of Illyricum, saying: "We found this woman weeping at the prison, and having learned that she is a Christian, and that she was weeping on account of the Christians, we have brought her to your judicial tribunal." The prefect, therefore, when he asked with astonishment, "Are you, then, a Christian?" she, with a clear voice, said, "Indeed, I am a Christian; for that which seems to you to be one of the forbidden things, this to me is glory and a most honorable name." ^D

XXIII. After he had learned both her station in life, and her country, and her family, that she was begotten in the old city of Rome from a noble house, "What then," he said again to her, "persuaded you to leave Rome

and to embrace these things here?" The martyr said, "And what else, I ask, but only the voice of my Lord God? For following this alone, I have scorned parents, and kinsmen, and riches, and having left the dear soil of my country, I took up the cross of my Christ and followed Him with eager feet." And the prefect said, "Where is this Christ whom you speak of?" "Everywhere," the martyr said, "and there is no place void of Him. He is in heaven, He is in the sea, He is on earth. And no less is He in all who call upon Him and fear Him, ^B illuminating them in their minds and dwelling with them." And he said, "Where are these men, so that we might know them?" But she said, "Until now, they had their sojourn here, and spoke with us in the body; but now, having left the earth, they behold us from afar while living in the heavens. For their death, taken up for Christ's sake, has procured this for them, into whose number I also desire to be enrolled and to travel the same path as they."

XXIV

The emperor, therefore, having heard her words, which possessed wisdom—while appearing to disdain her as a woman and young, yet in truth fearing that he might suffer greater shame—just as he was defeated by her words, he was still more defeated by the facts. When he considered putting her to the test by tortures, he himself, saying it was not fitting for him to converse with a mad woman, ceased from the examination and entrusted her to the prefect to be examined.

XXV

whom you do not know, a man born among the Jews and removed from the midst by those same people as a malefactor?" And Anastasia replied: "I indeed used to worship the gods and goddesses of whom you speak, at the time when I was of a childish mind; but now, having obtained a sounder judgment, I have delivered those [statues] to the fire, freeing them from the spiders and birds that were doing them injury, and from the mice that were inhabiting them; and having thus converted them into money, I have satisfied the hungry bellies of many, and have provided the necessities of life to others in need. And thus, those things which were of use to no one, I have caused to be no longer idle, but very useful." ^B The prefect, however, immediately with great acerbity said: "But I, for my part, will not suffer that this sacrilegious deed be even heard by my ears." But the martyr, having moved her lips with a smile, said: "I admire your shrewdness, o judge, in that you call the matter sacrilege. For if there were any sense or power in these inanimate things, what would prevent them, while they are being broken and dragged about and suffering other things, from bringing aid to themselves and taking vengeance on those who insult them, or at least from imploring your help and that of others at that time? But now they do not even know that they are suffering." Interrupting her speech, the prefect said: "Our most divine emperor has commanded that I should bid other things farewell, and do this alone, namely, that I should either persuade you to sacrifice, or else that you should perish miserably."

XXVI. And when the martyr said that it is not perishing to die for Christ, but rather firmly to grasp eternal life; when the governor had again set in motion many arrays of arguments, and had reminded her of many fears and of death itself, and saw her laughing at all these things alike, he referred everything back to the emperor. Because of this, since he had been incited all the more to anger, and was deliberating what should be done about her, one of those who were with him and who were eager to gratify him approached and said: "Command, o emperor, that she be handed over to Ulpian, the high priest of the Capitol. For to him, especially as high priest of the gods, it will be a concern, and he will either persuade her entirely, or, by punishing her most bitterly, will remove her from the midst; and all her property, if any remains, ^C let it be dedicated to the Capitol." These things pleased the emperor, and as he had been advised, he summoned Ulpian and handed her over to him. He, however, acting differently from the harshness of the emperor, but trusting that he would overcome her and persuade her more through craft, leads her away with honor into his own house.

XXVII. And at first he strove to pour in, as it were, the poison through her hearing, with many and persuasive words. Then he also employed deception through her sight, very wickedly and maliciously setting contraries against contraries: on one side indeed, elegant and sumptuous women’s attire, on the other side all kinds of torments and instruments of varied tortures; on one side stones

^A precious and resplendent with a pleasing luster, on the other swords gleaming horribly; here, couches inlaid with silver and adorned with elegant coverlets, there, collars and the bonds of evildoers, and grievous scourges. Why did that sly and cunning man do this, and why did he join the harsh and troublesome to the pleasant? So that he might either entice her with delightful things or strike terror with fearful ones. But injustice deceived itself, as the divine David says, and these things were counted for nothing by the martyr. For she says with a spirit of freedom and a prudent demeanor: "May all these things be upon you, O devil, and may they be yours alone, since together with them you shall be delivered unto destruction. But if you shall also prepare me to undergo scourging, and shall weigh down my neck with these bonds and collars, then, even more, wearing the collar from you as a sort of neck ornament, I shall appear acceptable and pleasing to Christ; for He is my Savior and my helper, and in Him my heart has hoped."

^B XXVIII. Ulpianus, therefore, astonished at the magnanimity of the martyr, and thinking that with time he might soften her who would not yield, decided to defer the proceedings regarding her to a third day. But she, indignant at him for the delay, said: "Consider these three days already passed for me, and give your mind to my words. Behold, for I will tell you even now the same things that I would say after deliberation: I do not worship your gods, and I oppose your will and that of the Emperor. I offer a sacrifice of praise to the King of the ages, Christ, my only immortal God, for whom I even lay down my soul and despise your torments, so that I may gain Christ alone, who is life eternal." And he said, "I knew, indeed, that you, in your folly, were choosing for yourself a death similar to that of your Christ." But she, having heard this, and having received joy from what was said, replied: "Amen, amen, let it be so for me, Christ my bridegroom and King!" And the high priest immediately asked: "What does this 'Amen' mean?" But the martyr said: "But you are not worthy to learn this; for no one who is wise would entrust ointment to a putrid vessel." ^C Ulpianus, therefore, as he had planned, acted; and having given her a respite of three days, he handed her over to pagan women, and those who were related to her by birth, thinking that by the conversation of the women and the length of the days she might perhaps change her mind somewhat. She, however, having persuaded herself to increase rather than to diminish her longing for Christ, considered those women and those words to be empty noises poured into her ears in vain; raising her hands and mind at once to heaven, she called upon Christ, whom she loved, to bring her aid in the contest, not sustaining even to partake of any food or drink for the three days.

XXIX. After the third day, Ulpianus came again, not despairing because he greatly desired, but being near

^A to believing that he held his prey. But when he had inquired and learned that her resolve had grown even firm through the length of time, and that the woman was superior not only to the promise of good things but also to the trial of torments, and furthermore even to natural necessity—for she did not turn her attention even to any food or drink for so long—when the priest of the false gods heard these things, he leaped into the inner chamber, striving to drag her away by his own hand, and wishing to do something outrageous and worthy of his profane gods. But he was immediately struck by a divinely sent blow, and having lost the light of his eyes, he walked about the whole room, ^B no longer able to see; and in addition to the blindness, a most violent pain seized his eyes. Seized, therefore, by such pain, the wretch cried out, and wretchedly called upon his own gods for help. But Providence did not arrange these things in vain, but so that those who were outside, hearing his cries and gathering for aid as was natural, might clearly see how and why it had happened, and so that it would not be possible for the priest to alter the cause or speak falsely against the miracle. And this is indeed what happened; for having been led home blind and in great pain before many witnesses, and then being pricked by sharper pangs of pain, he ordered that he be carried to the accursed temple of his gods and placed ^C there, thinking that since he worshipped them, he would be healed by them. He received, indeed, the excellent and fitting reward for his worship; for as the pains assailed him yet more violently, he breathed his last. XXX. Thereafter Anastasia, having obtained her liberty, departs from there and arrives at Theodote, whom we had previously declared resided with the Count Leucadius, and relates to her in detail everything that she had suffered, and all that God had wrought by her and with her. A few days later, Count Leucadius also returned from Bithynia and held conversations with Theodote similar to the previous ones, attempting to persuade her. But after speaking much, he realized that he was talking to a shore and conversing with winds; he also learned that Anastasia was living with her, and pierced with fury, because Theodote was ^D persuaded by her admonitions to despise him all the more, he immediately put chains on Anastasia and handed her over to the judicial tribunal. Moreover, he also sent Theodote in chains to the Proconsul of Bithynia, informing him as quickly as possible by letter of the matters regarding her. XXXI. When Theodote had reached Bithynia and stood before the Proconsul’s tribunal, "Come now," said he, "O Theodote, obey the imperial commands and be willing to offer sacrifice to the gods; for thus you will live together with your children and partake of many good things. For even if not for your own sake, yet it would be right for you to choose what is advantageous for the sake of your children." While the Proconsul was saying these things to the martyr, the eldest of her children, to whom

the name Evodius was given, said: "But we, O Governor, in no way fear the punishments of men, which are accustomed to afford incorruptibility to the body, and even more, immortality to the soul; but in these, I may almost say, we rejoice as if at a banquet. We fear God all the more, who has the power to punish both soul and body in Gehenna." ^A The Proconsul, fixing his eyes on the boy, said: "Seeing you to be of such a very tender age, I truly marvel at how and from whom you learned these things, which hardly many have been able to acquire even with long time and much labor." To which the boy aptly replied: "Our Savior and Master and Lord Jesus Christ is himself the one who said: 'When you are brought before kings and governors, do not worry about what you are to say; for it will be given to you in that same hour what you are to say.' [Matth. x, 18, 19.] Now, therefore, these words are not mine, nor are they words of human wisdom, but while my tongue certainly is mine, the words are directly God's." And the judge, as if despairing of the mother and her first-born child, transfers his test to the others, seeing them to be even more imperfect in age and therefore supposing he could persuade them. But when the branches were seen to be in no way different from the noble root, but the children showed themselves to be both of mind and spirit the offspring of the one and the brothers of the other, he turns back again to the mother and the first of the brothers, saying: "Turn back to your own flesh, spare these tender, immature infants. Do not stand by and watch them perish miserably before your eyes."

^B XXXII. When he had said many such things, and saw that his words were being poured into the air in vain, he orders the son to be cruelly beaten with rods in the sight of his mother's eyes. The noble mother, seeing this, not only did not perform or utter anything ignoble, but, as if she were taking pleasure in the stripes of her most beloved son, stood by cheerfully, nodding with her eyes, encouraging him with gestures, and exhorting him with her words, saying: "Do not give in, my son; stand firmly, child. For these stripes which you bear for the sake of Christ will be followed by honors and crowns." Incensed all the more by these things, the Proconsul, at the suggestion of the wicked demon, forms a base plan; for he hands over this woman, who was most worthy of veneration, to a lascivious man who was unrestrained in his passions. But the joy of that insolent man did not last long. For as soon as the base Hyrtacus—for that was his name—touched her, his entire countenance was suddenly changed, and he was not even permitted to gaze upon the martyr without fear. ^C Therefore, he cried out with a loud voice to the Proconsul, saying that as soon as he laid his hand on Theodote, he saw a certain youth, beautiful in appearance and seemly in attire, standing beside Theodote, who, having struck him with a blow, crushed his nostrils and caused blood to flow from his nose. But the blind man did not see, and the foolish Proconsul did not understand, and even if he did not revere the evidence of the miracle, he did not desist from contending against her. But when he again set her

^A before him, he appeared to threaten her with the most grievous things of all, saying, "Unless you sacrifice to the immortal gods, your children shall be slaughtered before your eyes." She, however, said, "And this I have long and greatly thirsted for; for thus, having sent my children living to Christ and having established them as if in a secure harbor, I shall then follow in their footsteps, so that I may appropriately sing: 'Behold, I and the children whom God has given me.' " [Isa. VIII, 18]

XXXIII. The proconsul, being still more disturbed by these things, ordered that she be delivered to the fire together with her children. But when the furnace was ignited more quickly than had been commanded, they entered the furnace with joy, just as if into a fountain of water; the mother blessed God, and the children sang with her, and thus, both joyfully and eagerly, they entrusted their souls into the hands of God. And thus, the blessed end received them. The blessed martyr of Christ, Anastasia, however, was held in custody by the prefect ^B of Illyricum; who, having diligently inquired about her and learned that she was born of a noble family and possessed vast wealth, and that she was sprung from those who had great riches, was overcome by greed and captured by the love of money. Having caused her to be brought to him in private, he said, "I know, O woman, that you are very wealthy; and you say that you are a Christian, which I have already tested. Act, therefore, in obedience to your spouse, who by law requires you to despise all riches; yield to me your money, your possessions, and all your property. You, by doing these things, will profit on both sides, insofar as you will be fulfilling the law and will become free from fear of us. For hereafter it will be permitted you to sacrifice securely and to worship freely the God who is adored by you." ^C

XXXIV. To this, Anastasia, full of wisdom from above, as though aroused in her spirit, said: "But, O judge, it is said somewhere in the Gospels by my Christ: 'Sell all that you have, and give to the poor, and thus you shall have treasure in heaven.' [Matth. XIX, 21] But to you who are rich, who is so miserable and so demented as, when desiring to succor the needy, to give the goods of the poor to a rich man, and the goods of those who are starving to one who lives in luxury? But if I should see you hungry and thirsty, and then naked and sick and cast into prison, then, in accordance with the word of my Christ, I will indeed feed you, and give you drink, and clothe you, and visit you, and gather you up, ^D and supply those things which are necessary. But, in truth, according to the flesh and in the world, you are indeed very rich; but those things of which you are poor and very destitute, and which you ought to seek, why do you not seek them?" And the prefect asking, "What are these things, and what is the poverty from which I suffer?" she said, "The one regarding the greatest things: namely, in faith, and in knowledge, and in the truth."

XXXV. But the prefect, seeking, as it seems, glory

grasping at praise, and seizing upon the word: "But you," she said, "since you say that you are rich in faith, say to the mountains, 'Move,' and if it moves in accordance with the things promised to you by your Master, we will believe." She (for she had been sufficiently educated) said, "This, indeed, is what our faith dares, and things far greater than these. Moses bears me witness, not only performing wonders on land, but also dividing the sea, and joining it together again; and Joshua, who made the sun stand still, which is above us; and Elijah, who closed the entire heaven; ^B—not to mention the disciples of my Christ, whose very garments and shadows alone raised the dead, and cast out the demons that are gods among you, and all that is done day by day before your very eyes through those who struggle for the name of Christ—even if none of the things that happen bring you to understanding, but you choose instead to be willfully blind. But it is not at the moment that it seems good to you that the divine power is to be invoked by Christians, by yielding to tempters. For it is written that you infidels seek after signs, some, and others after wisdom, but we preach Christ Jesus the Lord, and him crucified."

The prefect immediately, taking up the word, said: "This, I say, disturbs me—that he was crucified. How is your Christ God, as you say, when he underwent the cross, and furthermore was pierced in the side? Which, indeed, you cannot claim that Zeus, who is the greatest and highest of our gods, has suffered. How, then, instead of rejecting the crucified one, do you not rather worship someone like him?"

The martyr said: "Because, indeed, both death and the cross are a boast for Christ and for all Christians, since he gave immortality and glory through these things to those who have received them. But as for the works of your Zeus, I have nothing to say about these. Do you, therefore, if you wish—just as you truly do wish—imitate your supreme Zeus, but leave me to imitate my God." ^C

XXXVI. When these things were said, the governor’s anger was greatly kindled, and he ordered her to be locked in the darkest prison, and all the instruments of torture to be brought before her eyes, so that either, by seeing them, he might persuade her out of fear to relax her tension and constancy, or, if she were to maintain her greatness of soul, he might inflict upon her a varied and manifold pain through the memory of those things that cause distress. He also ordered that a meager portion of food be given to her, and this after the setting of the sun. The martyr, though living in such conditions and seeing these things, and wishing not to partake of food at all, turned her desire for Christ over in her mind instead of all else. And thus that was to her both sufficient sustenance and a consolation in the darkness. ^D And there appeared to her on each night her fellow combatant Theodote, filling her heart with joy and strengthening her for the struggles; and Anastasia, who left nothing of what was good unexamined, often asked her, even as she visited her, in what manner it was, she said, that she came to her after death. And she said that this too had been granted by God to the souls of the martyrs, that...

after their departure from hence they might visit whomsoever they wished, and deign to grant them conversation and consolation.

^A XXXVII. When the thirtieth day had arrived, the prefect, supposing that the martyr had been overcome by hunger and other afflictions, and had surrendered some of her constancy, sent for her; but when he saw her even more radiant and outspoken than before, he grew angry with the guards, as if she had enjoyed some comforts from them. Therefore, accusing their kindness as if it were a crime, he removed them from the custody, and committed her to others whom he knew would readily do everything according to his own wishes. Having set these over her ^B and ordered them to guard her for another thirty days, and having marked the prison with seals, he went away. She, however, though she was treated in such a manner, did not cease to do what she was accustomed to; but she persevered in intense prayer, in keeping vigil all through the night, and in the unceasing stretching forth of her hands. Then, having brought her out from there, the prefect passed sentence that she should be released into the depths of the sea along with many other condemned persons. There was also among them a certain pious man, Eutychianus by name, who himself, having been stripped of his property for the faith in Christ, was condemned to be cast into the sea.

^C XXXVIII. But when those soldiers who were leading them were in the middle of the sea, they themselves boarded a certain skiff and sailed to the land; as for the ship that was carrying the martyr of Christ, along with Eutychianus, I say, and the other condemned persons, having perforated it on all sides, they abandoned it to the waves, even though it was in such great danger. The sea, however, did not cover the ship, and the blessed Theodote, having been sent by God as a ready helper to them, was seen seated upon the sail of the ship; and guiding the rudder most securely, she granted them a most favorable course as they sailed, and led the ship to the land without danger. Moreover, she showed that Eutychianus ^D had been numbered among the martyrs of Christ. Then, therefore, those who were condemned in the ship, astounded by the miracle, fell at the feet of Eutychianus and of the martyr, and asked to be taught the reason of the faith. Having therefore obtained what they sought, and having been initiated as is meet in piety, they were joined to the flock of Christ, being in all a multitude of one hundred and twenty men.

XXXIX. Three days later, these things were reported to the prefect. And he, having immediately and with great zeal apprehended this whole band, recently initiated as they were, and having taken care to have them stand before the tribunal, thinking that they still held to their first resolve, offered them gold and riches; and honors he partly bestowed at once, and partly promised, if only he might see them changed and once again practicing the Hellenic religion. But when he was greatly disappointed in his expectations, seeing their minds strong and valid, he displayed against them naked swords, and fire, and catapults, and frying-pans: "If you are not willing," he said, "then these will persuade you to sacrifice even against your will." But since they were equally unaffected by the evils, and neither

were they moved by the goods that seemed to be promised, he first tormented them with many tortures, and afterwards sentenced them to an unlawful death. Yet the noble martyr of Christ he commanded to be bound to three stakes and surrounded by fire on all sides, and thus to undergo the end of her martyrdom. And since this too was done with dispatch, she committed her spirit into the hands of her God, on the twenty-second day of the month of December. ^B XL. Apollonia, a certain woman, noble by birth, having petitioned the wife of the prefect, receives the sacred body of Anastasia, and having honored it splendidly and as was fitting, she deposits it in the garden of her house. Later, she even raises a luxurious and magnificent temple to the martyr, and continues to celebrate an annual festival for these things. But after many years, the most happy of cities, Constantinople, I mean, receives her translated relics, and deposits them in a magnificent temple worthy of her, a treasure of good things, a fountain of miracles, a healing of soul, a healing of body, to the glory of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, of the one divinity and kingdom, to whom is due all honor, majesty and magnificence, now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

Two epistles of St. Anastasia to St. Chrysogonus, with the reply of St. Chrysogonus, exist in Nicephorus, lib. XIV, at the end.

MARTYRDOM OF ST. EUGENIA

(In Latin in Surius at the 25th day of December; in Greek from a Paris manuscript codex, no. 1195, 14th century.)

I. After Marcus, his father, Commodus held the Roman scepter, and having already passed the seventh year of his reign, a certain Philip, a man of, high position, is appointed prefect of Egypt, and is sent to Egypt along with his wife, Claudia, and his children. He had two male children, Avitus and Sergius, and a daughter, Eugenia by name, noble in soul as she was also in body, and renowned for her beauty, whose life this narrative now sets forth as a subject for those who are lovers of virtue. Now Philip, as soon as he occupied the great city of Alexandria, managed all things there according to Roman laws, and following ancestral customs, he was harsh toward those who practiced the magic art, and harsh also toward those of the Jews who [C ]

^A were not even allowed to be named; yet he acted more mildly toward the Christians. He expelled them indeed from the city, but, as the emperor had so ordered, he allowed them to pass their time and dwell near the city walls. He was clearly respectful of the Christians on account of their rigorous philosophy of life, and for this reason he even preferred them to the idolaters. Yet he himself remained bound by the superstition of his fathers, though, being a lover of education and eloquence, he raised his daughter Eugenia with a liberal education, teaching her both the Roman and Greek speech and striving to see her make great progress in philosophy. She, having added practice to her natural aptitude, quickly flew toward knowledge, applying her mind to all things that were useful; and she easily grasped with her intellect everything to which she applied her mind, holding what she had learned in her memory as if it had been engraved upon her heart as upon bronze tablets.

II. ^B Being thus devoted to learning, she was nevertheless by her own nature studious of virtue; she was indeed worthy to be gazed upon for her appearance, and worthy to be heard for her speech, and to be emulated by all as useful and salutary. And what was most wonderful of all, though she had not yet passed her sixteenth year, she surpassed those who were far advanced in age in the decency of her manners and her pursuit of virtue. But as she could not remain hidden, with her fame spreading through all, Aquilinus—a man most illustrious in the administration of the republic, who was at that time consul and held the highest place ^C among the Roman nobles—sought in marriage this maiden who was most renowned for her virtue. When her parents came and asked her if the marriage was to her liking and the groom agreeable, it was here that Eugenia most especially showed the sign of her noble spirit. For, enduring to suffer anything rather than to cast out her dear virginity and lose her chastity, she used a ruse against her parents. She praised the man’s family, but criticized his character, saying that it is right for the most part to choose those suitors who bring ornament to their family, not those who wish to be ornamented by their family. And when many others were also sought for her from her parents, who were brilliant in wealth and ^D famous in lineage, she did not once lack for a fair pretext against them all. Indeed, while she repelled those who wished to take her as a wife in appearance, in truth she entirely rejected marriage, and this alone was the object of her study, namely, that she should remain chaste. Thus the vessel, being fair and clean, was ready, of course, to receive the divine ointment. For this reason, good works soon followed upon her sound faith, and she, being pure, approached the pure fountain of piety. The occasion for this was as follows:

III. The divine book of the Epistles of Paul the divine herald came into her hands, and having fixed her mind upon understanding the things that were said, and having recognized that there is truly one God who made this whole

^A universe, her mind is immediately illuminated, as she had long since purified it and prepared it to receive the divine Spirit. But when she had believed in Christ in her presence, she concealed her parents' fury in the open. ^B When the emperor's decree came, expelling Christians outside the walls, and the prefect was already setting about the work, she—longing to enjoy the Christians and their teaching in great freedom—pretended to be leaving the city to seek recreation in the country and enjoy the pleasantness of the air, and to relax her mind somewhat from the cares of her studies. Now when her parents, suspecting nothing, let her go, she readily set out for the villages. Having reached a certain estate and having encountered there many very honorable monks chanting in very orderly fashion, she heard that holy voice: «All the gods of the gentiles are demons; but the Lord made the heavens.» ^C When she heard this, and was, as it were, filled with deep shame for her parents' deception, she uttered a miserable and profound groan from her heart.

IV. Turning then to the eunuchs who were following her, one of whom was called Protus and the other Hyacinthus (for they too had heard philosophy), "I know," she said, "that you have been sufficiently versed in the disciplines, and have grasped the dogmas of the philosophers—which Socrates, Aristotle, and Plato, the renowned Stoic school, and the opinion of the Epicureans have handed down; likewise also [the teachings] of other sophists and poets, and of all who boast of being not ignorant of matters of knowledge. Know, therefore, that all these things are mere fables and nothing but probability, which can deceive many. ^D And of the Greeks, who boast greatly of their own learning, some have judged that there is no God at all, while others have judged that there are many, both greater and lesser. But these are all excluded by this one saying: «All the gods of the gentiles are demons.» For this is the complete and absolute eradication of impiety. But that saying, «The Lord made the heavens,» clearly introduces the one God and makes our common Master known to us. The apostle Paul also teaches things in harmony with this. For I am convinced by his words too, which I myself read yesterday and the day before, which declare one God of all things. In these we also believe, as they are very clear and worthy of faith, and provide their own confirmation through their very works."

V. "Therefore, to you, if you so desire, the way of salvation is ready and open. As for me, I shall no longer behave toward you as a mistress, but I shall be your fellow slave and sister, since we have God as our common Master and Father. Since, therefore, we are of one shepherd and, as brothers, are of one spirit, we shall come to the Christians with a common resolve; for I hear that a monastery has been established here by a certain Helenus, and that he, on account of the greatness of his virtue, has ascended the throne of the episcopate,"

insofar that ^A a certain Theodore was appointed in his place and entrusted with the administration of the monastery; and he presided over the flock so excellently and attained such divine grace that he easily expelled the tormenting spirit from demoniacs and the disease from the sick; nay, more, he provided the blind the desired sun to behold, and he so intensified the asceticism of the monks subject to him that they let no part of the day or night pass that was not consumed in perpetual prayers and songs. The monastery of these men may not be entered by any women, nor is it lawful for them to be looked upon by any woman. But for your part, shave the hair of my head, and remove these locks, and clothe me in a man's attire, and lead me to them by night, you yourselves following near my carriage, while the remaining servants go at once before and follow behind; so that when we arrive at the place ^B itself, we may give them no inkling at all of what has been done. As for the rest, let it be your concern that, once we have entered the gates, we may, as is right, attain salvation."

VI. The eunuchs were pleased with what was said, and they hastened to bring these things into effect. Furthermore, they also encountered an auspicious sign. For they had not yet arrived to enter the monastery, when the great among bishops, Helenus, came from Heliopolis ^C with a multitude of men, singing these things as if by a given signal: "The way of the just is made straight; the way of the saints is prepared." This increased the faith of those who were with Eugenia, and it certainly made her rejoice in a wondrous manner. And as if having seized the occasion, she inflamed those around her even more toward piety, saying many other things that pertained to the time and were appropriate to the place; and that it was not by mere chance, but by a certain divine providence that she had heard these things, and those things which previously were sung from the divine David: but that those former things were such as to lead her to piety, while those now sung were such as to exhort her toward the path of virtue. Having said these things, and having joined herself and her own to those who were singing, she finished the road with them. At which time she also heard the crowds recounting other miracles concerning Helenus; how great the man was in wonders, and that, whenever he had need of fire, he was seen carrying burning coals upon his garments, with nothing of those [garments] being harmed by the fire. Besides these, there were other miracles that he was continually performing; such as this one, which is also worthy of being recounted and committed to memory.

VII. ^D They say that a certain magician who was called Zareas, having reached the summit of his evil art, had frequented those places to the ruin of many, employing great and various deceit; whom they say, among other things, dared to do something of this kind...

to persuade the local inhabitants that he himself was sent by Christ as a benefactor of men and a good teacher, but that Helenus was a liar, falsely laying claim to the teaching office. For he thought that if he could set the shepherd against the flock, he would henceforth easily attack them like unguarded sheep, and offer them as no contemptible prey to his father, the devil. By saying these things, he gained ^A credence through his own wickedness. For you know how effective malice is, and how very easy it is to draw many along; so that the crowd approached Helenus, telling him either to accept that man as a common partner in teaching, or else to compete in a debate, so that they might follow the victor. Helenus gladly accepted the trial of the contest; for he trusted in Christ. But to take on Zareas as a partner, a man who boasted in the sorceries of demons, he considered abominable even just to hear. So, when the day arrived, he proceeded to the words and the discussion. And initially he attacked him fiercely, and assaulted the magician with frequent arguments; but when he saw that he was using arrogance and insolence as weapons, and struggling to secure victory for himself not from the truth, but rather from impudence, he entrusted the judgment to the deed, and ordered a great fire to be lit in the middle of the city, and that both should walk into the flame, and that whoever of them remained unharmed and stronger than the fire, he was clearly the one sent by Christ and worthy to teach his clergy.

^B VIII. When the words were finished and the flame had now risen to a height, fear immediately seized Zareas, and he ordered Helenus to go in first, reasoning to himself, as it seems, that if Helenus, not having the courage, suffered disgrace, or if he dared and lost his life, then he would more easily gain the victory, having discarded a very sturdy opponent, and by this means be able to draw everything to himself. But when the divine man agreed to undergo the trial first, and having prayed, he stepped onto the pyre; the fire did not escape notice of who he was, and did not dare to touch even a hair of his. Then they say ^C that the magician, filled with fear and dread, most of all wished to get out of the way and escape the trial, or to slip away and hide by entering the lair of Pluto, but was pushed by the crowd and forced ^D to enter the furnace against his will; which caught him and devoured him as easily as it would burn any other fuel. And if the great Helenus, pitying the wretch in his catastrophe, had not rescued him as he was becoming half-burned, he would have perished completely through his own magic and sophistries, thus having his fraud punished by the fire, in truth. When they said these things, the blessed woman was variously moved by great joy, she rejoiced, she stood amazed, she begged those who were narrating to bring her to the bishop and to recommend her and the brothers she brought with her, and thus to lead a common life in that monastery. So, pleading earnestly, she persuades one of those from the

^A company present, who was called Eutropius, that all these things might be done for her and to carry her petition to the bishop. "When he has finished his business, and has rested a little," he says, "then he offers a favorable and quiet ear to one who speaks."

IX. But while they were talking about these things among themselves, they drew near to the monastery, and they entered along with the bishop. Eugenia entered together with them, appearing just like a young man in both hair and clothing. ^B Now when Eutropius had been stirred to make known to the bishop the things concerning her, a certain dream appeared to Helenus, who had lain down for sleep after the divine celebration of the mystery. The dream was of this sort: a sculpted image of a woman was seen being carried honorably by men, and being accounted by them as a god. He, taking it ill that men were being deceived, said to the goddess who was among them, "Is it so, being a creation of God and a fellow servant with us, that you endure being worshipped by them and reckoned as equal to God?" ^C When she heard this, immediately, while she was still being carried, she departed from the men, but followed him, uttering such words: "Yet I will by no means leave you, until you lead me to the Creator." These things Helenus saw in his sleep. And upon waking, he was in doubt within himself as to what the thing seen might signify. But immediately Eutropius arrived, who, speaking of Eugenia as if she were a man, said to the bishop, "Sir, three brothers in soul, brothers in body, having just renounced the affairs of the Gentiles, are in your flock, drawing near to Christ, asking to receive divine baptism, and then to be tonsured and numbered among these monks. Because they are young and cling to each other wonderfully, they ask this above all else, that in nothing should they be separated ^D from one another—not in work, not in dwelling, nor in any other conduct—but that they be inseparable, being thus joined in the name of Christ. This they have said to me, with tears streaming down their faces, and they have earnestly begged me to explain everything to you."

X. When the blessed Helenus had interpreted the dream from these events, and as was fitting, had given thanks to God for all things, he orders the three to stand before him at once. When they had approached, he immediately took hold of Eugenia by the right hand, and speaking to her most cheerfully, with a placid and joyful countenance, he asked their names, and their family, and their fatherland. She, with the modesty of a friend and the blush that most becomes a virgin, said, "Our fatherland and family, O divine head, is glorious Rome; we are brothers to one another, and our names are, to the first, Protas; to the one after him, Hyacinthus; and to me, Eugenius." The blessed Helenus looked upon her pleasantly and said, "Rightly, Eugenia, do you call yourself Eugenius, so that your name might correspond to your spirit, seeing that you have a manly soul and show yourself very much a male in all things; but furthermore, may you conquer nature by your resolve, and in Christ

^A you continue to pretend to be a man, being a woman, and having changed both your habit and your name for the sake of the love you bear Him. And God has clarified these things to me, not because He wishes to triumph over you, but so that you may know how much you are in the care of your God; for He has shown me everything concerning you, hiding nothing, letting me know who you are and how you stand, and who those are that are with you, and what manner of glory and lineage you have had in this life. Strive, therefore, Eugenia, to show a nobility of soul no less than that of your body. For, indeed, God has made this known to me no less than the other things: how you have prepared yourself as a pure vessel for Him, keeping your virginity unspotted and your heart blameless, counting the glory of this life as ignominy, its wealth as poverty, its pleasures as distresses, and holding nothing of what is highly regarded among men as great, but loving only that from which we fell because of the first Adam, and of which we have become heirs through the second Adam. And these things Helenus said to Eugenia.

^B XI. And to Protus and Hyacinth, he said: "As for you, since it did not please Christ that you should remain hidden, you who are slaves by fortune but free in your resolve, and who preserve the independent dignity of the soul by maintaining it through virtue—to whom Christ also says, 'I no longer call you slaves, but friends' (John xv, 15)—you are blessed because of your freedom, or rather, because of your friendship and union with Christ. For since you chose to take upon yourself His yoke in one unanimous purpose with one another, you did not place any impediment in the way of this blessed undertaking of goodness, but now also you are eagerly present with her in it, and when she departs from this life you will be present with her there, and you will obtain the same crowns and rewards as she." Having said these things with no one else present, the bishop allowed Eugenia to remain in her male attire, for this was becoming known to no one, neither before nor even after the bishop's discourse. And he did not dismiss her and the eunuchs until they had been deemed worthy of divine baptism at his hands, changed their habit, and were enrolled in the company of the monks. But as for the things that followed thereafter, and how her parents were affected concerning her, and what they thought about her, and how much grief they received when they were frustrated in their hopes—for I know that you are thirsty to learn these things, and it is not at all worthy to pass them over.

^C XII. For when, in the dead of the night, with no one perceiving what had happened, Eugenia had descended from the carriage without a sound, and Hyacinth and Protus similarly had separated from the others, the empty carriage followed those who were proceeding before it; and the servants who were leading, partly because of the hour and partly because the matter was being kept hidden, ^D knew nothing of what had happened to those behind.

^A Since they sensed nothing of what was occurring, because the animal was following them, and especially because God was lending His own providence to this matter, they went straight to Alexandria. But when they were already near the city, those who had learned of it went out from the house with the greatest joy, intending to receive Eugenia, seeing the multitude of those preceding and the other retinue of the youths following in order. But when they approached, all ran eagerly to the carriage and, seeing the seat empty and Eugenia nowhere, struck by the unexpected and never-hoped-for event, they stood aghast and subsequently turned to tears and wailing, and together wept for their common good. "What has happened? What has been done? What is this invincible evil that has befallen us?" they said. Then they called Eugenia by name, striking their faces with their hands, beating their palms against each other, openly intoxicated by their grief. But these things were done outside by friends and acquaintances, and those with whom there was no blood relationship. Yet as for those inside, who could describe their calamity in a sufficiently tragic manner? For the parents almost came to the noose, and almost drew the sword against themselves; what miserable things did they not say? What did they not do, worthy of tears? They tore their cheeks, poured dust upon their heads, cast themselves shamefully on the ground, and cried out bitterly: the parents for their daughter, the brothers for their sister, the servants for their mistress. No one was unwounded, no one was free from the passion, but such a violent fire had invaded the house without any actual fire.

XIII. But after they saw that tears were useless, they turned to the search for their beloved. Merchants were questioned, farmers asked, inhabitants of the estates and guardians of the roads; diviners and ventriloquists were consulted, all the oracles of the demons were probed, and they were appeased and worshipped with sacrifices. But since she who was sought was not found, those who seemed to offer consolation for the terrible event devised one thing for the parents. They fashioned a certain fable, ^C in no way dissimilar to those sung among the Greeks: that the gods, having fallen in love with Eugenia, had snatched her up into heaven. This was acceptable to the father, as one whose ears were accustomed to such things; he honored his daughter with special honors, and erected a golden statue to her, and began to sacrifice to her as to a new goddess. But the mother and the brothers, Avitas and Sergius, did not feel the same way; rather, doubting that they should believe what was said, they mourned intensely. And so the flight of Eugenia, and how she affected not only her parents, but even those who wished her well, is thus.

XIV. But Eugenia was busied with the divine Scriptures and meditated upon them assiduously, and took great care to acquire virtue. Whence it came about that, although she had not yet passed two years in the monastery, she excelled all; I say, a woman, the men. So virtue is a common thing, and sex presents no obstacle to one who wishes to pursue it rightly. Eugenia, therefore, being first in virtue,

^A also possessed as her particular characteristic gentleness and moderation; and because she was first in virtuous deeds, she was no less first in that which bespeaks a moderate spirit. These, too, were signs of Eugenia—that she would be the first of all to arrive at the synaxes, and again the last of all to withdraw. Furthermore, she would suffer with everyone who was grieving, and truly rejoice with those who were in prosperity; which, indeed, is more difficult to achieve because of the malice that arises from envy. She possessed a way of speaking most effective for calming any angry heart, such that she would render one who was raging just like a wild beast, as gentle as a sheep. This was the final, and yet the first, thing of all, truly encompassing everything: an unfeigned love toward all, which did not stop at the lips but flowed from the depths of her soul.

^B XV. No long time passed before there came upon her the grace of healings in such abundance that, whenever she visited those suffering from illness, she did not merely offer them words of consolation, but would deliver them from the very disease that tormented them. Protas and Hyacinthus, whom our narrative has already mentioned, imitated her according to their strength. While Eugenia was living in this way, the superior of the monastery departed this life after three years. The common vote of the brothers called her to the government [of the monastery], as they took her for a man, seeing the abundance of her virtue but being ignorant of what lay hidden within her. Fear and perplexity then seized her; for she did not believe it right that she, being a woman, should preside over men, and she judged that for her to disdain the brotherhood when they were asking this of her would be the act of one stubborn and disobedient. ^C She decided, therefore, to learn from the Gospel what she ought to do, commending the uncertain matter to God. And as she opened the book, this voice of the Master was marvelously echoed: "If any one wants to be first among you, let him be the last of all and the servant of all." (Matt. xx, 26). When this had been spoken, she accepted the position of superior—though she did so unwillingly—but she gave herself over entirely to humble service. For what did she not do that was considered menial and beneath the dignity of even the lowliest? She drew water from the well, swept the house, broke wood with her hands, and performed all other such tasks as are deemed most insignificant, and she did them with eagerness; so much so that she even gladly suffered to be the doorkeeper, because she was most obediently following the commandment.

^D XVI. Having thus practiced moderation so excellently, and having once again shone forth clearly in her role as superior, she continued to hold fast to the way that leads to God, "reaching forward to those things which are before, as the divine Paul says" (Phil. iii, 13), "and forgetting those things which are behind" for the sake of prompt and zealous action. And how many miraculous works she performed would require another time and leisure for the matter itself, and besides, the length of the discourse already flees from such a burden; but it is very necessary to speak of the end of her martyrdom—

^A this too shall be told. There was in Alexandria a woman named Melanthia, possessed of great wealth but lacking in the fear of God and in virtues. Once, having been seized by a long and grievous illness (for it was a quartan fever), and since fame had also reached her of a certain man named Eugenius, whose life was to be wondered at by all, and who easily cured difficult diseases, she immediately left aside all other things, hurried to the monastery with great speed, and vehemently begged for release from the scourge that pressed upon her. Compassion, therefore, moved Eugenia, and having anointed her with holy oil with her sanctified hands, she immediately caused her to vomit the material that was producing the disease. Thus Melanthia, having attained health purely, returned well, but arrived at one of her estates which was also neighboring the monastery. Not long after, having fashioned three vessels out of beautiful and pure silver, she sent them to Eugenia, dedicating them as gifts of thanksgiving for the monastery's chapel. Because she did not accept the offering (for she said that the possession of silver was neither useful nor seemly for monks, but that it must be sold and distributed to the poor or to those otherwise pressed by the weight of debts), the woman herself went to Eugenia, and by saying and doing whatever might lead to persuasion, she convinced her to accept the silver and dedicate it to the temple.

^B XVII. Piety was the occasion for impiety, and true is that which was said of old, that no thing is so nearly related to another as virtue is to vice. And often one walking beside the former, inadvertently enters into the opposite. This is what happened to Melanthia. For perhaps bearing a moderate care for virtue, but being imprudent, since she did not apply her mind, she was led to the height of wickedness. For having already become familiar and going to her constantly, and seeing a man young in appearance and beautiful in face, a love—by no means noble—entered into her, and little by little her soul was charmed. Then she was strongly inflamed, thinking that Eugenia could not possibly always be chaste, nor had the flight of the disease come from divine grace, but rather from magic art and the power of the adversary. These things, having occupied her heart, and the grievous flame of love and heavy incredulity, persuaded her to dare the act itself and to speak boldly of the things of darkness. For love is a terrible and most impudent thing, and there is no impossible thing that does not seem attainable and feasible to it.

^C XVIII. Dwelling then on her estates, as has been said, which were neighbors to the monastery, and suffering greatly from the perturbation of her soul, she feigned that she was ill in body and with incredible speed summoned Eugenia, not to cure this pretended disease, but to be a miserable participant in the true and secret one. ^D Since, however, the desired

^B face was within the doors, Melanthia, unable to bear the agitation boiling within her, immediately, out of the evil treasure of her heart, brought forth evil words. And first, she pressed for an illicit union. "But if you do not wish for that," she says, "then I shall take you openly as my husband by the law of marriage, and you shall be master of much gold, silver, precious garments, fields, livestock, and servants, along with whom you shall have me, a slave instead of free and equal in rank, and you yourself shall enjoy all these things, since I am bereft of a husband, children, and kin. For to what end does such a beautiful flower of the body and such fair comeliness waste away through asceticism and toils?"

While Melanthia was pressing these things with a hot and constant spirit, the blessed one groaned at each of these things that were said, and she utterly loathed the passion of the address. Finally, dizzy from her many vanities, and as the saying goes, closing her ears with wax—and no longer enduring even to hear—she cried out, "Cease, woman, cease, and let these words be far from us! For you are spitting upon us the very venom of the ancient dragon. We will not betray purity, we will not corrupt our virginity; no, O Mother of God, in whom I trust, and Virgin, I will not break my compacts. One marriage is ours: the desire for Christ; one wealth: the goods which are in the heavens; one possession: the knowledge of the truth."

^C XIX. When the shameless Melanthia heard these things, ignited by a burning wrath that defied words (for rejected love is a heavy weight and altogether impossible to restrain), she set out for the Alexandrians, travailing with very grievous designs against Eugenia. Then, having also stitched together a malicious calumny against her, she went before the prefect Philip, who knew nothing of the things pertaining to Eugenia, neither that he was her father, nor how she had changed her form from a woman to a man. Having therefore come to him, she passed from intemperance to slander, and began to accuse her very malignantly and wickedly, saying, "A certain youth, beautiful in appearance but most vile in character, feigning the piety of Christians, came in to me. And thinking that I was one of those who are shameless, he first used deceitful words, and then even his hands to attempt violence; and had I not cried out quite loudly and taken care that my maidservant should run ^D there, I would have been defiled like some captive woman." Thus the impudent woman dared to attribute her own filth to the pure one, and pretended that she was the one who was suffering what she herself would have done.

These things, spoken in this way, strongly maddened the prefect, and he ordered them to be led bound before him—not Eugenia alone, but all who were with her together. Now these, having been brought according to the command, were distributed by the guards to different places of detention. For the prefect thought that Melanthia would never have falsely invented such things, being a woman so noble and conspicuous in wealth and glory, not knowing that the passion of the soul is stronger than wealth and conspicuousness. Therefore, the judges all but passed judgment in the absence of the holy ones.

^A, and some of them deemed it right that they be subjected to the teeth of wild beasts, others to the hanging upon trees, and others to more bitter modes of punishment, punishing piety along with the calumny.

XX. Now when the day of judgment arrived, a great multitude was gathered from all the surrounding cities; the prefect was present, and Eugenia was led into the midst, dragged in very heavy chains. Cries broke out from the theater on all sides, and all collectively declared that Eugenia should be put to death. Wild beasts were prepared, as were instruments of torture, wheels, fire, and other kinds of torments, and presiding over all these were the bitter tormentors, who were equally most cruel and swift in inflicting punishments. The judge, therefore, ordered Eugenia to be brought into his presence, and as she stood by, he said: "Is this what your Christ commands you, most unholy of all men, that you should not even do the most disgraceful things in secret, but should so shamelessly and violently engage in unlawful deeds? For what was your mind, when—entering as a physician, and not merely a physician, but one capable of working miracles—you did the things that corruptors and adulterers do, and wished to treat a woman born of such noble station, so wealthy, and of such honest and moderate character, as if she were one of those from the stage, or a captive woman taken from enemy territory, with shame ^B and disgrace? Therefore, you shall pay the deserts of your daring, and evil man, you shall perish evilly."

XXI. When the prefect had thus threatened her with anger, Eugenia, having inclined her face toward the earth, lest her countenance should at that moment become manifest to her father, said: "My God prohibits not only these things of which I am now accused by you, but He also legislates things much higher than these. He, desiring even now that I maintain perpetual chastity, provided that I should live with those who exercise themselves in piety, the monks, just as He has preserved me even until this day, as is clear to them, and as will be clear to you a little later. But as for your threatening me with tortures and death, you foolishly instill fear in me, which has no need of speech ^C. For I would be ashamed if, through fear of these things, I sought to defend myself, and not rather for fear that the cause of the Christians might be ill-spoken of among you and mocked. But indeed, you ought not to have lent such ready ears to the accusers, nor to have condemned with such haste when you first heard them, but to have heard both sides first, and then to have passed judgment. And if it should be proven manifest that I have done such things, I shall justly undergo the punishment; but if these are false and a plain calumny, I ask one favor in return for all: that this woman suffer nothing grave, not even if she were to speak things worsening than these about us. For so our law commands, and we obey it, that we should never return evil for evil, but rather, on the contrary, repay with good ^D. Of this matter, let this be my only surety through an oath, and of no other

^A nor shall we have need of arguments, nor of contradictions; for the matter itself shall clearly show it, and your own eyes shall most easily judge.

XXII. Having said this to Melanthia in private—for she happened to be present there as well—she said: "Even if it is possible to deceive everyone, it will by no means deceive your own conscience. Do not, therefore, seem to yourself to be ignorant, and do not disregard the divine eyes, which see all things and justly punish false accusation." But since Melanthia nonetheless did not yield, nor relax in her impudence, he immediately commanded that the maidservant whom Melanthia claimed to be a witness of the violence be brought forward. He ordered her to be summoned, not as one who would testify to the truth—for how could a slave have contended against her mistress?—but so that the falsehood might be more abundantly convicted, and Melanthia might be seen to have chosen not merely to slander alone, but to do so with others. The maidservant, therefore, stood forward, and wishing to gratify her mistress, she did not lack the skill to weave falsehood upon falsehood, saying: "This wicked man has often tempted me." Then the habitual lack of restraint urged her to rage against the mistress herself, to whom he was applying no violence against her will, until she, as she was, cried out; "But I, having come upon them and called for other fellow-servants, with great difficulty kept him from his shameful attempt; and if you wish to summon them, you shall know how well they will agree with my words." Then the prefect, being most bitterly disturbed, cast insults at Eugenia, ^B and he was clearly on the point of turning to torments, since nothing else remained for conviction. But she—yet one must attend, for the narrative is pleasant to hear—saying, "It is time to speak the truth freely, lest the falsehood told about me be boasted of too much, and the things of the Christians be open to slander among the Gentiles," what does she do? She is compelled, by the great impudence of her accuser, to do something even beyond what is modest; and taking hold of her tunic, she tore it open from above, and having bared parts of her sacred body, she showed to all that she was a woman by nature and in truth. And she says to the prefect: "My master, you indeed are my father according to the flesh, Philip; Claudia is my mother; and these are my brothers who sit with you, Abitas and Sergius. I, however, am your daughter Eugenia, who, having put off the whole world and the things in the world, have put on Christ alone in place of all. Behold also the eunuchs whom you see; these are Protas and Hyacinthus, who were my companions in instruction and in the life that is in Christ."

XXIII. Thus she was putting an end to her words, and the father, as well as the brothers, recognizing the truth partly from what she recounted, but even more from the signs that were manifest in her countenance—for having cast their eyes more curiously upon her face, they recognized that this was indeed Eugenia—their hearts were filled with ^C ineffable joy, and their eyes were filled with tears flowing from that joy; then, having raised her up to the princely throne, they nearly ^D

^A poured out their very souls, and distributed their love toward her. On one side the father, on another the brothers, and from elsewhere the mother—for she too was present, having learned of these events—vied with one another in embraces and affectionate greetings. Who could count the limbs that were being embraced, or the actions and sights born of ineffable joy, or who would be cautious about manifesting the soul’s pleasure due to the multitude? For nature surpassed and openly rejected the solemnity of the office and all the gravity that arises from the splendor of such dignity. And so they cried out, as if possessed by a divine frenzy: "This is our daughter, this is our sister, the delight of our eyes, the joy of our fortune, whom we thought had been snatched away by the gods, she whom we could not bear even to see, and without whom we could not bear the light of day at all." Hearing and seeing these things, the people also cried out: "Christ is the one true God!" ^B Now, as for those of the more diligent Christians who were waiting, so that after the death of the martyrs they might take up the bodies and grant them a fitting burial, when they heard of such a sudden change in the prefect and the people, they rushed in with the crowds, crying out with a louder voice: "Who is as great as our God, who reveals deep and hidden things, and catches the wise in their own craftiness?" However, the father, having clothed the reluctant Eugenia in a robe of gold—for he wished all to be partakers of his joy—raised her up onto a high throne and made her visible to all.

^{C D} XXIV. While these things were being carried out, God Himself who is in heaven, or rather, to speak with the divine Job, the Witness of Eugenia who is in heaven, the Arbiter of her cause in the highest, cast down fire from heaven and utterly consumed the house of Melanthia; for He had reserved her for the eternal fire. This event, moreover, caused many to be converted to the truth. Immediately, therefore, a common festival was celebrated by the Christians, and the long-standing sorrow was transformed, since the prefect, together with his daughter, had found piety and had approached Christ and been marked by holy baptism; and to the Christians the sacred churches were immediately restored, along with the honors and privileges they had held before. Nor did they obtain only these things, but it was also granted them to inhabit the cities without fear; for Philip had secured this for them by reporting to the emperors, Severus and Pius Antonius, that it was useless for the Roman Empire that Christians be driven out, as they were in no small way useful to the common good. And as they gathered together, one could see Alexandria as if founded anew. A similar tranquility and a similar outcome were present also in the cities that are in Egypt, and the affairs of the Christians flourished again, becoming bright and exalted.

XXV. But since, while virtue was thus flourishing, it happened that vice conversely began to creep in and strike

the author of it might be severely wounded, the adversary of that which is good does not endure the present state of things, but secretly insinuating himself into certain of the Alexandrians, who were distinguished by wealth and the splendor of their lineage, but were intensely devoted to the madness of idol worship, he persuades them to go to the palace and, approaching the emperors, to say that while Philip had indeed governed the magistracy nobly during all the preceding time and had been very piously disposed toward the gods, now, they say, I know not what has come over him, that for ten years past he has intended to overthrow both himself and the whole city, having transferred the honor due to the greatest gods to the worship of one man, whom they say was crucified by the Jews in Palestine. Thus it is that he has dissolved ancestral customs and honored new laws, and has preferred the impious to us, and, to sum up, has left nothing undone that tends toward the total overthrow of ourselves and the gods. Having heard these things, the emperors send the following to Philip: ^B "The most divine Augustus who preceded us, knowing you to be a worshiper of the gods and zealous for their honors, himself also bestowed upon you the greatest authority, and appointed you governor of all Egypt, indeed as king rather than prefect; and he commanded that you should never, as long as you live, be removed from this office, but that your authority should be measured out with your life. We have also preserved these honors for you, but these remained only as long as you yourself were a friend to the gods. But since it is now bruited about concerning you that you have changed both in regard to the gods and are not well-disposed toward us, we command you either to persist in your former course and remain in that honor, or, if you reject the worship of the gods, to cease holding the magistracy, and further, to undergo the confiscation of your property." ^C

XXVI. Having received and read these things, Philip feigned illness until he had sold his property and divided it into two parts, distributing one part to the churches and the other to the poor who lived throughout all Alexandria and Egypt itself. Philip was not only eloquent in speech, so that many of the Gentiles learned piety through his persuasion, but also most pious and philosophical in his life; so much so that all Alexandria by a common vote called him to the episcopate. That he was also most ardent and steadfast in the faith is shown by the end. For he departs this life, having crowned his head with the crown of martyrdom. A successor to his office, Terentius, is therefore sent, who, as soon as he set foot in Alexandria, moved every lever, plotting the removal of Philip. But since he could not kill him openly (for there was great love in the city for Philip), he commits the murder secretly, and, having entrusted the drama to certain pretended Christians, ^D he stirred them up to the murder, the emperors having even more strictly commanded this very thing; and they, having secretly entered in to Philip, kill him while he was intent upon prayer and supplication to God. But Terentius, fearing lest even the populace

^A feeling aggrieved at the deed, should move against him—especially since his love for Philip was so great—orders those who had killed him to be arrested and cast into prison, contriving a feigned affair to conceal the truth, and sowing the suspicion that the murder had not proceeded according to his own design. Then, after no much time had passed, the emperors having as it were so decreed, he releases them from their bonds. Thus died Philip, having lived three days after receiving the wound. He is buried within the city in a place called the Isium, where he himself, while he was still living, had built a holy house.

XXVII. Eugenia, however, after the recognition, chose chastity along with other virgins, and a life according to Christ. But the blessed Claudia, whom we have previously shown to be the wife of Philip and mother of Eugenia, built yet another house for the reception of guests, besides the one that had already been made by her husband, ^B consecrating in it a great amount of money to supply the things that were needed by those who were being received into hospitality. But this is how those things were, and thus far did Eugenia manage her life. Yet, the narrative wishes to show a more illustrious end for her also, as one who was glorified with the crown of martyrdom. For some time after the death of Philip, his wife Claudia, having taken her children—Abitas, I say, and Sergius, and furthermore Eugenia—returns to great Rome. Her fatherland receives her kindly, and the senate of the Romans elects her sons to distinguished magistracies: Abitas as proconsul of Carthage, and Sergius as vicar of Africa. ^C But for Eugenia, this alone sufficed as the greatest dignity of all—namely, virtue, and living in obedience to God, and having with her other daughters of senators who were possessed of the same zeal and the same resolve. Among whom was one, far more excellent than the rest and truly admirable, Basilla, who traced her origin from the race of the emperor; she also shone forth just like Eugenia, as will be told immediately. For she, having received by hearsay Christ and the wonderful things of Christ, and moreover having heard about Eugenia, valued it most highly to frequent her, ^D and to be a participant in her divine words.

XXVIII. But when she was kept away from her, both on account of her betrothed (for she had been betrothed to Pompeius) and on account of the persecution (for a great persecution was already being kindled against the Christians), she finds a certain faithful man as a bearer of her words, and through him does not cease sending, begging Eugenia much that she might signify to her in writing all things concerning the divine faith. She, however, since she knew well how great is the difference between writing and the voice, and that one would not in the same way persuade or teach by sending a letter as by discoursing about such matters—since there is also much of a middle ground between living words and inanimate and dead instruction—takes a plan that was at once prudent and youthful. For having persuaded Proteus and Hyacinthus to take on a servant's guise, she sends them as a gift to Basilla, all

the more eagerly, that they might be to her an epistle—or rather, a living, animate epistle. When Basilla had received them with the greatest joy, she honored them as though they were apostles of Christ. When Cornelius, that great star among bishops, learned her situation, he came to her under cover of night because of the persecution, and deemed her worthy of divine baptism. ^A Thus were Basilla and Eugenia bound to each other in a secret bond of friendship for Christ’s sake, becoming a pair yoked to the Lord, clinging to each other in spirit, and conversing with one another intelligently, while also drawing many others into the same yoke. For how many virgins did they lead, how many widows did the venerable Claudia, and how many men did Proteus and Hyacinthus lead to the common Lord!

XXIX. ^B Yet, as the faith of the Christians was flourishing to such a degree, the envy of the Evil One was stirred up all the more against the pious. For while Valerian and Gallienus held the Roman government, he himself, stealing into the minds of the many Romans, sowed evil seeds, and a grievous sedition was kindled against the Christians. The very subject of this sedition was Cornelius and those with him, because they had purposed with all their might and mind to extend the cause of the Christians, ^C not only leading most of Rome itself away from the worship of the gods, but also cities and regions round about, and had caused Him who was named among them Christ to be acknowledged as common Lord and God. An imperial edict was forthwith proclaimed, and it went out through all the Roman domain, that all who were preeminent among the Christians and teachers of the doctrine should be seized and given over to death. Others were put to death in various ways, but Cornelius ^D remained in hiding—most of all because he was held in honor by the senate, and was defended by those who were foremost among them as if by certain ramparts, and also because he himself would keep himself safe for the salvation of many.

Basilla and Eugenia, meanwhile, were exhorting one another to the struggle; for, unable to endure the distance of the place, since they were united with one another in soul, they were linked also in the place and shared in discourse with one another. Eugenia, then, discussed with Basilla many other things for the sake of the struggle lying before them, and how Christ had clearly revealed to her those things concerning her—that she was already about to run the course of martyrdom and, having reached the end, would receive the crown. Similarly, Basilla also answered her with equal measure, that Christ had revealed to her as well the things concerning Eugenia, and how she was destined to have her head adorned with a double crown: one for the dangers and labors she underwent in Alexandria and throughout the rest of Egypt, and the other for her martyrdom and the slaughter which had come to pass on her account.

Having shared these things with each other and prayed for one another, and having also fortified the souls of the virgins who were with Eugenia and persuaded them to be heedless of death for Christ's sake, they were separated for the time being in body, yet each, with longing for the other, frequently turned her gaze

^A as though their eyes could not bear to be deprived of the sight of one another.

XXX. But when it was necessary that the things foretold of them by the Lord should have an end, one of the handmaids who followed Basilla spoke against her to Pompeius, saying that if he did not with all haste and with royal authority bring to his house Basilla, who was betrothed to him and was already of marriageable age, he would no longer have her as his wife in the time to come. "For know," she said, "that she has become a Christian through the words of Eugenia, and is renouncing not only marriage but the entire world. For this reason, her guardian, Helenus, is also putting off the nuptials, for he too is a Christian and has the same purpose." Furthermore, she said, "Those eunuchs whom Eugenia sent to her as servants, they are the most skilled of all in the art of magic, and they have so bewitched her that she confesses she now regards them as her masters and worships them as immortal gods."

When the wicked maid had thus reported to Pompeius, and had openly delivered her tongue to the devil, and had spoken such things against the Christians, Pompeius was kindled with great wrath, and breathing out grievous threats, he set out against Helenus. First, he attempted to compel him to show him the girl, and then to celebrate the wedding, lest he should openly show himself an enemy of the emperors. When Pompeius said these things, ^C Helenus was not unaware of the source of this betrayal; nevertheless, he gave him a frank and just response. "I," he said, "who happen to be the guardian of the girl—so long as she was an infant, I kept her and she lived according to my will; but since she has reached maturity, and has already attained the legal age, she no longer follows my will, but follows her own judgment and acts as she herself pleases."

XXXI. When Pompeius received this answer, he went immediately to the house of Basilla, and having knocked at the door, he commanded the porter to announce him. But she, through her servant, gently repulsed him, saying that there was nothing in common between Basilla and Pompeius, nor was his arrival at all blameless. For how indeed could he, who approached a virgin and sought to speak with her in private—she who is almost untouchable by the eyes of all men—be blameless? Pompeius was enraged by these words, ^D and first, having gone to the senate, he entreated it; then, having taken them with him, he seized the feet of the emperor, not without tears, and lamented his own misfortune as if it were a public one. "For your own sake," he said, "O most divine Augusti, rise up for your own sake and for the sake of your gods, and expel from your city the new God whom Eugenia has now brought in from Egypt. For the Christians already cause much damage to the state, mocking the emperors, despising the laws, and spitting upon the benevolent and protecting gods as if they were empty things fashioned by hands; but now this impiety, too, has been devised by them, and

^A they dissolve the laws of marriage and forbid conjugal unions. For they tear those who are betrothed, or even those about to be betrothed, away from their men, or rather, they deprive them of these men and claim them for themselves, and despicably corrupt them. What, then, remains, what could happen, and where might one turn, if marriage is nowhere to be found? For what is against the law, the laws themselves prevent, and what is according to the law, the Christians prohibit—new demons, as it seems, who have appeared and are destroying the human race. And when this has happened, the earth will surely be desolate. And how will you have an army hereafter, and how will it not perish? Whom will kings rule, and with what enemies will they prevail? And how will a state and the life of men be maintained at all?

^B XXXII. When Pompeius had spoken with such great distress, the senate at once agreed and supported him, so that the emperor, moved to pity, delivered a swift judgment: that Basilla should either be united in the law of marriage to her fiancé, or finish her life by being subjected to the sword. And when he heard about Eugenia, he immediately pronounced a verdict regarding her as well: that she should either be persuaded to sacrifice, or, handed over to torments, die a violent death. He also ordered that all others in general be punished—not only Christians, but also those who receive and harbor Christians and cause them to remain hidden. When Basilla heard this sentence—she who was truly royal in tongue and in spirit, and more sharp in voice than he—she spoke out immediately: "Betrothed to the King of kings and Creator, I do not at all accept a union with a corruptible man, even if this seems right to the king below. For it is truly terrible, terrible, to fall into the hands of the true King and the living God." ^C And at the same time as she uttered the word "God," her head was straightway cut off. And this was the end that Basilla had. Protas and Hyacinthus were also seized and led to the temple of Zeus, being forced to sacrifice to that abomination. Standing, therefore, in the sight of him who appeared to be a god, they prayed, and immediately the idol fell before their feet, and was wondrously shattered and dissolved into dust and earth. And when Nicetius the prefect learned of this, he ordered their heads also to be cut off, and that Eugenia be brought forward according to the emperor's command.

XXXIII. When she stood before him, "Whence," asked the prefect, "have you learned, with such precision and perfection, the magic art that you are able to hold sway even over the greatest gods?" By saying this, he ^D unknowingly wove a manifest encomium for Protas and Hyacinthus, in that by prayer alone they had smashed to earth the greatest of the gods among them, and suddenly showed them to be fine dust. Emboldened, the God-inspired Eugenia replied with great prudence, saying, "This indeed, O prefect, has been said by you most truly, that we easily con

^A command your gods. But that which you add is entirely absurd and easily refuted: to ascribe this to magical art, rather than to the divine and unconquerable power of Him who is truly the only God among us. For if magicians—as you say—invoke certain impure and material demons, and these [demons] overcome your gods, or rather the first of the celestial ones, then you would no longer be at a loss, continually twisting everything and turning things upside down, assigning the lower lot to the greater gods; and you would not be making them gods at all, but slaves, even slaves of demons, while making the demons gods and the first of gods. ^B This is true in another way as well: for you who have established them as true gods and think them to be good, are at a loss as to why they are overcome by evil demons, not knowing that they themselves are truly the evildoing and wicked demons, but there is one God over all, whose name alone these cannot bear, but as wax, as the divine David says (Ps. LXVII, 3), they melt and perish at the presence of fire."

XXXIV.

XXXV.

^A such, indeed, are those who conceive labor and bring forth iniquity; but it was the intention of God to render his command of no effect. Whence the stone was loosened from her neck, and she, like the great Peter, walked upon the river currents without stumbling. Then, those who saw that she was stronger than the water decided to punish her with fire, and the great furnace received the noble woman. But the Lord, who stood guard over her, was present there, too; and the fire, having cast off its nature, was immediately shown to be ineffective, and her body was preserved unharmed. What follows? She is punished with the deepest darkness, and besides darkness, with famine; and a dark house received her, receiving no food at all. Yet they were entirely ignorant that the Lord of light was with her, from whom, according to the prophet, “the light broke forth early,” ^B and the whole house was illuminated with divine light. And not only was light given, but a certain divine nourishment was supplied from above: bread prepared miraculously each day, whiter than snow, and divine in delight. And what is greatest of all, the Savior himself stands by, saying: "I am, Eugenia, who for your sake endured the cross and death, for whom you also chose to suffer these things. Therefore, I will clothe you in the greatest glory, and I will fill you with many graces. Let this also be to you a token of the honor concerning you; for this day will send you forward to the life above, which also saw me when I visited those below."

^A XXXVI. Having said this, he departed from her; and the end of what was spoken did not long delay. For one of the impious is sent, feigning the guise of a monk, who, having gone inside the prison on that very day, perfects the martyr by the slaughter of the sword, on which day the feast of the Nativity of our Savior was also being celebrated. Having performed, therefore, what was fitting for such a daughter and sister, the mother, I mean, and the brothers, they deposit her sacred relics in a place not far from Rome, called the Via Romana. Thus Eugenia lived a holy life; and thus she departed this life, as she had been called, nobly, so that we do not know whether we should admire more her life in Christ or her death for Christ; hence, also, how much glory she has been deemed worthy of for both, became manifest not long after.

^D XXXVII. For when the mother was divided by two emotions, partly rejoicing that her daughter had been sacrificed for Christ, but grieving that she was separated from such a daughter, and enduring the separation by no means calmly, the martyr appears to her in a dream, so gorgeously arrayed that her eyes could not even gaze upon her well, and accompanied by such radiant virgins that not even one of the queens could be compared to them. Having stood by in this manner, she seemed to say to her mother: "Why, O mother, do you so distress yourself and melt away with many tears for our sake?

^A Our affairs are not to be pursued with lamentations, but with joy. For know that I and father Philip live in a certain ineffable joy of the martyrs, residing and reigning with Christ, who will also call you to this life after no many days have passed. Exhort my brothers to keep the seal in Christ firm and stable, and that they may be my brothers in spirit, so that all our kin may be offered as a beautiful gift to the Lord." These things the mother heard from Eugenia. It was said, moreover, that she also saw the angels standing by, whose appearance was a symbol of both joy and modesty simultaneously, as if they themselves were indicating that those [martyrs] were worthy of honor, and also participants in everlasting joy. ^B May it be granted to us all to attain this by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom belongs all glory, honor, and worship, now and always, and for ages of ages. Amen.

There agree with these Acts those things which, eleven hundred years ago, Alcimus Avitus, Bishop of Vienne, wrote to his sister Justina concerning the praise of chastity; as do those Acts of Saint Eugenia which are recorded in the *Lives of the Fathers*, which indeed prefer [the account] as it is described by the Greeks.

THE LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER AND CONFESSOR THEODORE THE GRAPHPTOS

^A I. Of those who have chosen the struggle for Christ, some have contended simply for piety and faith against the Greeks who maintain the error of idols; but... ^B Notandum: Fragmentary text from the Greek source occurs here, followed by the notes of Fr. Combefis. Translation continues below.

Fr. Combefis's notes. This Life of Theodore Graptus, as I present it here, after a long debate with myself, I have judged it right to include in this collection of mine, covering the history and achievements of that city, just as I have described elsewhere in the same series (in the same Byzantine theater, and exhibited in that very age) the struggle of the Patriarch Nicephorus concerning the cause of the holy images. It seemed clearly of such great value, if not that of a martyr, then certainly of an illustrious confessor—to publish not a few lines, so that the faithful may be refreshed by the language he himself used, and be animated toward similar struggles, especially since even now, in many places, the arena remains open, while the enemy of Christ and the images rages.

Lipomanus, and from him Surius, translated this Life into Latin for December 26 (the seventh day before the Kalends of January), and, as is the custom, attributed it to Metaphrastes. However, it can perhaps be attributed with greater certainty to him based on the stylistic hallmarks of Metaphrastes, which Leo Allatius established in his own collection concerning the writings of the Symeons. He himself, not having it at hand, could not judge, although he had either heard or remembered that it existed in the Roman libraries, as he wrote in his Diatribe concerning the Theodores. This author agrees completely with the Logothete in his Chronicle, in which they narrate the death of Theodore in exile and prison, though others draw his life toward the emperors Theodore and Michael. However it may be, the author indicates that he wrote long after the death of Theodore, so that he may perhaps be more recent than Metaphrastes, whose character he imitated and followed, and whose few and more accurate details he inserted into his own Chronicle.

The primary part of his Life and writing is the Epistle of this same Theodore; which was my greatest reason for representing it here. In the title itself, Lipomanus's translator, or the Roman Codex itself, indicates both brothers as martyrs, and calls it the martyrdom of them both. Ours, more accurately, ascribes it only to Theodore, and labels it his Life, since the whole intention of the writing is directed toward him, and he himself died in exile, which is an even clearer title of confession; since Theophanes, who later was bishop of Nicaea, rested in peace. Yet the author himself writes of him as a martyr at the end. ^C He returns, and the great Theophanes, being a martyr himself, and glorying in the stigmas he had received for Christ. By these words, he restrains the significance of that word, so that he does not mean a martyr in the proper sense, but a witness, such that while his life remained untouched by the bringing of torment, he was the fruit of the testimony of piety: a title which the Church in ancient usage gives to confessors, leaving the title of martyr to those whom the violence of torments, in the confession of Christ, or in the defense and assertion of piety, has driven from this life: for whom, in such a situation, there is a sure victory and glory, since nothing prevents the victorious confessors from being overcome soon after, ^D and offending more gravely, as Cyprian and others lament; so that it may not seem sufficiently cautious that those who have done something strenuous in confession are, by that one title, and as if a martyr, while the rest of their manner of life subsequently remains unknown to us, held among the saints and considered blessed. In which category it may sometimes happen that there is considerable indulgence. Methodius, however, judged this one thing sufficient proof that Theophanes was worthy of the episcopacy, because he bore these marks and stigmas of confession on his visage, concerning which the Logothete writes: "The holy Theodore, whose relic in the monastery of the Michaelitze at Chalcedon, which Michael the founder himself later removed. And the renowned Theophanes lasted until Michael and Theodora, and was ordained metropolitan of Nicaea by the patriarch Methodius, who was in holy orders; so that some were vexed at his ordination and said: 'He is a Syrian, and who knows if he is orthodox, since no one testifies for him?' The holy Methodius answered, saying: 'I desire no other better testimony than that which he bears' (showing the writing on his face), 'more powerful than any other'; and the great Theophanes, being a witness, and to those... ^C ...who had chosen the struggle for Christ, and his brother Theophanes the poet."

have laboured for the orthodox faith against Christians who are not soundly disposed concerning the right faith, have contributed no less toil than they. For this reason, they have become partakers of the same crowns as them; among whom is he who is now proposed as the subject of this discourse, the admirable and great Theodore, concerning whom the discourse will show in detail as it proceeds.

II. Palestine was his fatherland, which God, bestowing it as an inheritance upon Abraham, rightly named the land of promise; but the city is Jerusalem, to which it would suffice for praise, even if it had no other commendations, that Christ was also from there according to the flesh; and indeed a great chorus of prophets and patriarchs went forth from it; and the most graceful band of the apostles had its birth from there. ^B

III. Piety provided the nobility of this generous man’s parents, and their wealth and abundance was the fact that they were called and named by Christ; since he was the scion of such, what need is there to say how much understanding and mental agility he possessed even from his earliest age? For while still a boy, he did not have the mind of a child—that of gazing at small things and taking pleasure in toys and trifles—but Theodore’s friends were lingering in the sacred temples; and his desirable contemplations were looking toward the best of habits. ^C

On the same day, of our holy Father Theodore the Graptos, brother of Theophanes the poet.

Being sent into exile, the great warrior Theodore departed to the Lord. ^D

Fr. Combefisius’ Notes.

Of our holy Father and confessor Theodore the Graptos and his brother Theophanes the writer of odes. More clearly in the Synaxarion: On the same day, of our holy Father Theodore the Graptos, brother of Theophanes the poet. Being sent into exile, the great warrior Theodore departed to the Lord. To these, countless others... Theophanes of Smyrna and his own brother Theodore... The Syrian, he of Nicaea... And his kinsman Theodore... brother, own brother... of Orthodoxy... Christ from there. [alt-version omitted]

...who, nonetheless, there is no conjecture that he lived for so long. Furthermore, he adds Theodore the Studite, whom he says died while the persecution was still raging, according to the encyclical letter of his successor Naucratius, which is sufficiently clear. Nor does the fact that in the Triodion on that first Sunday of Lent Naucratius is held in the place of Theodore and linked with Arsatius, as Baronius noted, effect anything other than what Nicephorus Callistus, a recent author, whose are all those Triodion Synaxaria, emended—not that the old author of that oration had fabricated it thus: whose credit, therefore, is not at stake. Thus, the sorices (shrews) betray themselves everywhere while they pile up many things in one narration through ignorance, and there is no coherence in the text itself. In this genre, it has been sinned not once among the Latins and in Gaul, not without slight damage to historical faith, as has been noted by learned men. Concerning Theophanes, provost of the *Magni Agri*, I hand the lamp to the learned man and friend Daniel Papebroch S.J., who is shortly to publish with his associates, along with the equally learned man and friend Godefridus Henschenius, the March volume of the same. ^D

(1) That Christ was born at Bethlehem is a certainty of faith: whence, then, "at Jerusalem according to the flesh"? Or is it because Mary herself was born in Jerusalem in the holy Probatica, that is, in the house of Joachim in Jerusalem near the Probatic pool? I replied: "The Mother of God was born for us in the holy Probatica, from whom the Lamb of God wished to be born, who takes away the sin of the world." Is it also because Bethlehem is so near to Jerusalem that it could almost be considered its suburb? Wherefore also the bishop of Jerusalem, and his people, were accustomed to keep station in the *oppidum* (town) at the place of the cave on the day of Christ’s Nativity; which the patriarch Sophronius used to deplore being unable to perform himself, the holy city being besieged by the Saracens, in that oration which, after Peitanus, I have presented again for that day in *Biblioth. PP. concionat.* and completed from the cardinal Mazarin codex.

^A and in venerable temples. No spectacle was more pleasing to him than that of contemplating manners fashioned with the utmost beauty and honesty, and to conform himself to them. His pride and glory lay in showing himself obedient to his parents; and, to speak once for all, like a noble plant, he showed from his very first germ what manner of man and how great he would turn out to be in virtue.

IV. ^B When he had already passed his childhood, he was ordered by his parents to go to a grammar teacher. But in order that he might not only be occupied with studies, but also be formed toward virtue, he was handed over to the monastery of the God-bearing Sabas. There he found a teacher who was a presbyter—a man, I mean, of clerical rank—who at that time held the first place, both for learning and for virtue. He also had a brother, Theophanes, who was younger in age by not a few years, but who would not endure to take second place in the name of virtue; and he was so prepared that he wished to shine, not so much because of their carnal likeness, as from a total agreement and equality of virtue in his brother. Emulating the best painters, he looked to him as an archetype and followed his characters with complete accuracy.

V. ^C Now, both of them used to spend their time there. But the divine Theodore, having partaken of a most keen nature and having run through all of his education in a short time, and having acquired a love for higher learning, leaves the monastery. He frequents a certain man, advanced in age, but who had exercised virtue according to the measure of his time and had gathered learning. Conversing with him, he becomes an imitator of his virtue, and he requires no great length of time to gain the grasp of his learning; but with the swiftness and fiery intensity of his nature, and with the keen and tested diligence of his application to these things, he housed everything within his soul in a short time. And witnesses to these things are the books which he later published for the defense of piety, even if he was superior to all emulation on account of that excellence of learning.

VI. ^D Yet, his occupation with letters lasted for a time; for the love of virtue prevailed, wishing to occupy him wholly for itself, and not to let that continuous conversation with it be interrupted by his diligence toward them. Indeed, he brings himself back and gives himself again to the monastery of the God-bearing Sabas; and he was thus living under God, pursuing works worthy of those pure eyes of His. From this point on, who was more modest in mind than Theodore? Who was more noble in restraining anger? Who was more unwavering toward the impulses of desire? Who knew so well when to speak and when to remain silent, and knew the right time for every matter, so as neither to dishonor quiet nor to abandon frankness through softness of soul and slackness of mind? Who thus chastised his flesh, and bridled his eye?

^A and restrained the impulses of his thoughts? From whence does it happen? By the nodding of God, when all who looked toward the monastery, by the suffrage of the then-presiding elder of Zion, he was ordained presbyter; and in that same way he had the method of the great Sabas, striving and diligent in the honey of virtue. But what of those remarkable things almost escapes me, and I do not wish to neglect what I might say. For in him, what also happened, such as before in the divine Jeremiah, to whom it was said: "Before thou camest forth out of the womb, I sanctified thee; and I anointed thee before thou wast formed in Israel."

VII. Now when this presbyter and teacher was still in the divine Sabas monastery, as the discourse has already made clear, the divine Theodore taught him this heavenly sense, and trained him by his studies of letters and virtue, so that he blossomed in virtue day by day, as I might say, suggesting mystical instruction and growing in spiritual education; that great man, I say, the presbyter, and indeed a man who was divinely instructed, predicted most clearly. To whom, however, it might have seemed that he was indulgent toward his disciple, as if he were pretending to the revelation, as if he were simply accepting the praise of those who loved him; for a time he concealed it with silence; later, however, since he already had a witness worthy of the boy’s virtue, he proclaimed to all with a bright decree what was said, so that this good man, ^C as one among others who endure, would exchange his life by his testimony. What could there have been of this? A clearer proof of the boy’s virtue from his tenderest years? For if nothing else was accomplished by him, for this one thing, he should have been second to none of them.

VIII. But since he had also received the priesthood with other good gifts, what is necessary to recount, what even he performed for the excellence of that station, although he studied to remain hidden, and how much he concealed the evil of wicked men by his own diligence? For to whom, what faith, what hope, and finally what charity, was he second? But his gentleness, his moderation, his goodness, and his zeal—of what kind was it, that he endured even unto bonds and stripes and death for the image of Christ? Yet it is true that he was tested by the very origin of these things, so that those who look upon the images might know them. ^D

IX. But the enemy and foe of our race, having been defeated in every age, and having frequently attacked with repeated battle-lines, has again aggregated another way, and is strongly armed against piety. For when he saw God having become man,

HE BECOMES a serpent once more and a devil once more; the impure one drags down the divine laws and decrees, and he misinterprets the Lawgiver’s will again. And since he knew that he is not able to turn men away from God, he mixes his ambush with bait, and being unable to persuade them to deny Christ, he altogether forbids his divine image to be worshipped; so that, unobserved, he might also abolish from their souls the confession of His incarnation, and gradually extinguish the love ignited within us toward Him who has granted us salvation. ^B And when the matters of his ambush proceeded according to his mind (for he found souls receptive to his seeds), O the greatness of your long-suffering, O Christ! It reaches even to the Emperors themselves, and gains more strength by finding power from the authority; and it is helped by such might that we are very close to becoming as it was in the beginning, which the holy oracles say: that the Lord did not rule over us.

X. For Leo, at that time, drawing his lineage from the Armenians, having seized the scepter with a tyrannical hand, and having deposed the pious Emperor Michael from his rule, and prepared him to enter into the habit and life of the monks—he indeed accepted this constraint ^C mildly, as if it were his own choice; but Leo, harboring that impiety still within him for a little while, brought it out into the light, like some bastard and evil offspring; and he is not much longer revealed, breathing rage against the divine images, and abolishing their veneration. And first he exiles piety along with the hierarch of Orthodoxy; then he also tears down the beauty of the sacred icons, as if dimming the eyes of the Church. And the orthodox hierarch, as I said, becomes an exile; and a hireling is led in instead, and not a shepherd, of like mind with the tyrant and agreeing with his impiety; the altar, they say, [brought] to the temple, and he strives to rouse again the heresy once dead concerning the revered images. ^D But alas, what are the judgments of God! The rod of sinners is immediately loosed upon us, so that even so we may understand what kind of Master we provoke to anger through such great folly.

XI. For the Arabs occupying the desert toward the East, having led out an army against the Romans, plundered many of their provinces, and also pillaged many fortresses; and they also ran against the monasteries in Palestine, the first and greatest of which was that of the God-bearing Sabas, I say, in which this great man, as we have said before, Theodore, was training.

XII. Seeing these things, that divine [man] of the Hierosolymites [sees...]

and pastor, knowing well that these things are a retribution for sins and a cup of wrath, because the veneration of the divine icons is being set aside, he is immediately stirred to zeal, and seeks a way by which he might be able to extinguish such a great fire, and to expose those who are ill-doing and ready for wickedness, and most prompt to remove the boundaries of the Fathers. For thus there shall again be a recalling for the captives, and mercy for the wounded souls. XIII. He finds, therefore, for this purpose a man who was also most suitable, namely the holy Theodore, since he was both renowned for his virtue, and skilled in his tongue with words, and breathing a youthful zeal. And, "Behold me," he says to the high priest, "send me, and I will go; and being helped by your prayers, I shall put impiety to shame." The patriarch therefore sends him, having fenced him about on all sides with prayer, and having shown him to be completely fortified with hope in Christ. ^B But let us pass over the intermediate events; upon arriving in the August city, and having his brother Theophanes as a companion, one who was wise in brotherly things and breathing the same zeal for piety, he first of all stands intrepidly before him who—alas!—had leaped into the Church in the manner of a brigand (for where had that man evidenced anything in a priestly manner?) and he freely argues, because he is perverting those over whom he presides in the office of pastor, and bitterly reproaches him for heresy. Then, he also confronts the emperor himself, like a sharp sword, and accuses him not only on the count that he is bringing destruction upon his own soul, but that he also impiously and deceitfully serves up a subversion to the people of the Lord. Then he admonishes him, that having abandoned this profane and evil opinion, he should learn in its place ^C piety. "For perhaps," he says, "the divine [power] will be propitious to you, and you yourself will not drink up the whole cup of the Lord’s wrath, like some dregs." XIV. For which reasons the emperor, having admired the man for his boldness, and also for the timeliness of his words, and the modesty and elegance of his behavior, and having noticed the cheerfulness that was reflected from his spirit upon his countenance, as far as was possible, he felt reverence for him, and bore his rebukes mildly; and then, he also summoned him again, and [had] the throne of the hierarchy as a prize ^D around the time of the holy Pascha.

^A Since he had previously discussed things with him, and inquired whence he came and what he wanted, he says that he [Theodore] was being bold with pure and unguarded frankness. He declares his country and his coming from Palestine, and that he did not think it was free for him to depart from the liberty of speech even for fear of the emperor, when he saw the King who is in the heavens being treated with injury. Then he opens up what concerns doctrine; he teaches the worship of the divine icons. And when he had said other things, and added: "Behold, this is the proof of our love for Christ, and the confession of the flesh assumed by Him," ultimately he overturned the other's objections through faith in Christ and the power of word and spirit. But after Theodore had emerged victorious in the disputation from many arguments brought back and forth, first the emperor marvels, and then he also sets upon him with flatteries, being eager to win over such a man, through whom he was going to defeat many. But when he saw that his constancy towards him could not be overcome by any force, for he had also added to him a thing of this kind: "Have you forgotten, O emperor, the covenants which you entered into with God, of which the great high priest was the mediator, when he placed the imperial crown upon your head? Spare your own soul, and restore the former adornment of the Church; and do not wish to contend in battle with God, who is a judge just and powerful, even if He does not inflict His wrath daily (which is the abundance of His goodness)."

^B XV. These things he indeed spoke to him with such frankness; but the emperor, having cast off the pretext of leniency, erupted into anger and fury, and asks if there is anyone of the same soul as Theodore, and of the same opinion concerning the faith. But after he understood that his brother Theophanes was also such, and that he was no less his brother naturally than he was vehemently akin and german in dogma, he decrees that both, being scourged for a long time with whips, should be exiled to the mouth of the Pontus, and he orders that no one should bestow any food, or drink, or clothing upon them, so that, he says, by such evils they might be evilly destroyed.

XVI. But it was wickedness that taught the tyrant to act in this way; for there is no crime that an unjust man will not readily snatch up. Yet, that God, who judges justly, does not delay His wrath for long, not much time passed before this man, to whom the name was common with the beasts and the manner of acting itself the same, ended his life along with his tyranny. For he was taken away from the midst by Michael Balbus; "a bad remedy," they say, "applied to a bad [condition]." It was the day of Christ's Nativity, and his blood is poured out; not as one of the infants who might be offered to God born for our sake, but rather as Herod's, for the expiation of many holy souls whom he was oppressing by force. And the holy place receives the sacrifice, and (O divine judgments!) the very altar, I say, upon which he had lied, having promised that he would do nothing against the holy

^A of changing, and whose beautiful adornment of images he had darkened. When this occurred, and they were relieved for a little while from exile and other evils, these most noble men reached the imperial city, since the new emperor had allowed their recall under a certain masked appearance of humanity. In truth, being no less impious than his predecessor, he was for a time milder in the cruelty of his persecution.

XVII. And when they had arrived in the city and were again boldly preaching piety, they brought over many of the remaining common people, and even those of the senatorial order, to their own opinion; partly by the exposition of the canons, which Theophanes, the own brother of Theodore, had celebrated in verse, and partly also by the books of arguments which this great Theodore had composed. ^B

XVIII. But since John, that Egyptian magus and companion of Iambres-like, could not bear to see such virtue of these men shining so openly, he shut them in prison; and finally, having engaged with them in conversation, since he was unequal to the contest (but, as the adage goes, a goat was starting a fight with a lion), he once again expelled them by force from the city, for he possessed great authority with the emperor—both because he was of the same opinion as he, and because he was clothed in the monastic habit and pretended to a mask of piety. By this mask the most wicked man deceived both the emperor and many of the senatorial order, and shortly after he unworthily ascended the patriarchal throne. And they, having been driven out of the city in this manner, regarded the foreign region as their fatherland for the sake of Christ, remaining in the place which they call Sosthenium. ^C

XIX. But when Michael, that impious emperor, departed this life, he left the empire to his even more impious son, Theophilus. He so laid claim to this wicked dogma and appeared so severe to those who were thoroughly versed in piety, that he almost made all the heretics who came before him seem cold and soft regarding impiety. From this point on, persecutions were again stirred up against the pious; again there were the destruction of holy images, and again tortures, tribunals, prisons, and every manner of injury were set in motion against piety. From this point on, Theodore, being accused together with his brother, was also charged because of [his] piety; for the sake of which, what form of punishment did he not endure? Or rather, what crown of martyrdom did he not receive? Was it not the crown of patience? Was it not the crown of freedom of speech? Was it not [the reward for] the zeal with which, having been kindled for the Lord, he strove day after day? A martyr among martyrs, and a confessor through those very things he endured for Christ. ^D

^A His long-endured confinement and the varied kinds of punishments—which, like a son receiving them from a father, have until this day kept the preceding events from being forgotten and have provided the authors for recording them in writing—further demonstrate his fortitude.

XX. From these punishments, many of those who were apprehended were defeated, even if repentance repaired the battle and compensated for the fact that they had been defeated; but the majority, animated by hope and by the desire for Christ, looked down upon them with a noble and brave spirit. With them this divine man, having yielded nothing to the promised benefits, and even while being lacerated with thongs—though no one could easily ^B express how great was the fortitude he displayed, becoming an archetype of patience for his fellow-combatants, the imitation of which is not easy—truly stood, his body already torn by the scourges and having stained the ground with his blood, as if he had suffered no sensation of pain. He stood naked in the middle of the judgment seat, as if adorned by his wounds as with some ornament, and thus, according to Paul, became a spectacle to both angels and men.

When the prefect, however, was annoyed that he remained naked for so long, "I, the athlete," he said, "stand naked for this reason: so that if I behold any of the combatants fainting from their torments, I might courageously supply the deficiency of that person in my own body." ^C Hail to the man’s endurance, his freedom of speech, and his fervor toward the Master!

XXI. Once again, therefore, exile awaited them, having been condemned to inhabit an island which it is customary to call Aphusia. But why is it necessary for me to recount the things that followed from that time—the prisons, the shipwrecks, the famine, the scorching heat of the sun, the nightly cold, the traps, the uprisings, the daily deaths, the renewed blows, the beatings with rods, and the slaps in the face? Save that even these things, having endured them with joy together with their long-continued exile, they arrived in Constantinople two years later, alone among the rest by royal order. ^D For an obsession possessed the emperor—even if it were empty and vain—to have Theodore and Theophanes, who shared his own opinions, rather than to rule over all those in his domains with whom he had no disagreement of opinion.

XXII. But it is worthwhile to declare what follows in the very words of the letter which this divine Theodore, composing it together with his brother, wrote to John, the prelate of the church at Cyzicus, and to the rest of the multitude of the orthodox, enumerating their own sufferings and whatever evils they had to bear.

^A It happened to them from that God-hated Theophilus while they were contending in the struggle for the divine icons; and how, after many outrages, their very faces were cruelly branded and punctured. But if there are some things in the letter that appear simple and countrified, this should not be attributed to the ignorance of the author by fair judges and the educated; rather, one must consider, first, that he used words and names without discrimination because he did not deem the matter of such great importance, nor did he think it worth such diligence. Secondly, he wanted to present the very words simply and without any ornamentation, exactly as they were spoken during the questioning and answering. The letter runs word for word as follows:

^B XXIII. I would be doing a great injustice if I surrendered to silence the events that have taken place regarding us, since many desire to hear and learn of them; especially since what is spoken and heard can contribute to the glory of God and the profit of many, and is no less useful for refuting the impious, and for proving by sure evidence the weakness of their doctrine and the spider-web-like nature of its structure. And a little later he says: ^C When, therefore, he who was then ministering to the imperial commands came and landed on the island of Aphusia, he seized us away with great haste and led us to the city, piously asserting that he did not know the reason why we were being dragged along, except that he said he had been sent with great speed and under very urgent orders. We arrived in the city, therefore, when it was the eighth day of the month of July. And when he who had brought us had appeared before the emperor alone, he was immediately ordered to shut us up in the praetorium. ^C After six days, that is, on the fourteenth of the same month, we were summoned to the emperor, as it was already known and expected in everyone’s mind that we were to be brought before the emperor to pay the penalty. There was nothing else to see or hear but terrors and threats; some saying, "Quickly, you men, submit to the imperial decrees without any contradiction"; others protesting that we would suffer intolerable evils if we were not obedient to the command; others saying, "You have a demon," and other things of that sort, and worse, which beat upon our ears in vain.

^D XXIV. And these things we heard before we reached the place called the Golden Triclinium. But when we had arrived and set foot inside the gate, with the eparch leading us, the emperor was shown to us, terrible

^A and breathing wrath, surrounded on all sides by ^B a crowd of courtiers as great as was fitting. The hour was about the tenth; and the eparch, who until this point had accompanied us, departed, leaving us alone in the sight of the emperor. And when we had made our obeisance, he commanded us with a bold and harsh voice to stand closer. When we had therefore come near to him, he asked, saying, "In what land were you born?" As we replied, "In the land of Moab," he said again in the same words, "Why have you come here?" And before we could answer, he ordered them to strike our faces. Those who were beating us inflicted many heavy blows, so that we were filled with dizziness and fell to the ground. For had I not grabbed the tunic of the man beating me at his chest, I would have immediately fallen at the emperor’s footstool. Holding onto his garment, I endured the blows without turning away, until the one who held power commanded them to cease striking. When those who beat us had paused, the emperor asked again, "For what reason have you come here?" His intention with these words was, as it were, to ask: Why, when you did not wish to embrace the same faith as us, did you delight in dwelling with us? ^C XXV. As we remained silent and looked down at the ground, he turned to the eparch who was standing nearby, and with an impudent mouth and a grim eye, he uttered such a sentence with great anger and a harsh voice: "Take these men and write upon their faces, engraving these iambics; and hand these men over to two Saracens, and let them lead them away to their own land." Standing nearby was the one who held the iambics, who was also the one who had composed them, by the name of Christodulus; he ordered him to read them aloud, adding this as well: "Even if they are not elegant, let that be no concern to you." This he said, knowing how perfectly we were versed in the precision of poetic scrutiny, and how much we would laugh at them. For this reason, someone who was present, flattering him, said: "These men are not even worthy, O master, that the iambics should be more elegant." It is good, however, to insert them here in the narrative just as they were:

When all desired to hasten toward the city, Where the most holy feet of the Word of God Stood for the constitution of the inhabited world, These men appeared in that venerable place, Vessels of evil of impious delusion, Where, having done many vile, terrible, And impious things out of ignorance, They were driven thence as apostates. Having fled toward the city of the empire, They did not abandon their lawless follies. Wherefore, marked and inscribed as evildoers, ^D They are condemned and driven out again.

XXVI. When these had been read, he ordered us to be led away to the praetorium; and after we had gone out, and had already reached what is called the Thermastra, someone came and ordered us to return; and with great speed he brought us to the emperor; who, having seen us, spoke to us in these very words: "It is likely that you, when you departed, were

saying over there that we have mocked the emperor. But I, having mocked you first, will let you go." Having said this, he ordered us to be stripped. When we were both stripped, I was being beaten, while the emperor was constantly shouting in this way and adjuring those who were beating us by himself: "Do you have me like this? Give it well." They were therefore beating both my back and my chest without any mercy or compassion. But I, as I was being beaten for a long time and with many lashes, was shouting: "We have committed no offense against your empire;" and again, "Lord, have mercy;" and, "Holy Theotokos, come to our aid." Then they struck the brother as well, who was shouting similarly, and saying: "Holy Theotokos, you also fled into Egypt bearing your Son; look upon me who am being punished for a flight like your own. Lord, Lord, who deliverest the poor from the hand of those who are stronger than he, do not remove your help from us." ^A And thus, when he had lacerated both of us as much as he wished, he ordered us to go out. But another man, having come out again, ran toward us, ordering us to return.

XXVII. Now a certain man sent by the emperor inquired, "What is the reason that you rejoiced at the death of Leo, and why, having fled to him, do you not embrace the same faith as he?" To this we answered: "We neither rejoiced at the death of Leo, nor did we flee to him; nor are we willing to abolish or innovate anything in the faith on account of you, who change with the turns of the times." ^B When he replied, "Surely, then, you did come under Leo?" We said, "By no means; but under him who held the empire before him." But he said, "Right, right, and go along." And this man was the logothete of the drome. Then, it already having become night, we came to the praetorium.

^C XXVIII. Four days had passed, when we were brought to a hearing before the prefect sitting at the tribunal. He, having terrified us with threats of many punishments, and having said that he would first inflict penalties, and then also tattoo our faces and hand us over to the Saracens, exhorted us to perform that which the emperor desired. Christodulus was with him, as well as his father. But as we refused austerely and bravely, and said that we were ready ^D to endure numberless deaths, and that we would never be defiled by their commu-

^Anion, nor by any consent to those who have set at naught the faith and confession of Christians, even if they should gouge out our eyes, or burn our bodies with fire—the father of Christodulus, as if he himself were about to receive a favor from us, said to the prefect, "These men have never worshiped an icon; nor do I know what has happened to them to bring them here." To him I said with severe rebuke, "Depart from here; you know not what you say, nor of whom you affirm it."

XXIX. But the prefect, again using blandishments, said, "Communicate once, only once, and we require nothing else; and I will even go with you to the church, and you may go wherever it pleases you." I answered him, laughing, "You speak something similar, sir prefect, as if someone asking another were to say, 'I ask nothing of you, except to cut off your head once, and then afterwards you may go wherever you wish.' Know, therefore, that this is also a cause of shame to us, that anyone should dare at all to urge us to a communion (to which I know not how you persuade us to draw near), nor has anyone like this long ago been persuaded that it is easier for him to mingle heaven and earth from above and below than to translate us from piety." Then he ordered our faces to be inscribed. And indeed, while the wounds from the lashes were still swollen and inflamed in us, and causing unbearable pains, they stretched us out on benches and began to engrave our faces. And for a long time, as they pricked our faces, darkness came, and finally ^B the writing was cut short by the setting of the sun—which, even against their will, ^C stopped them from completing all the writing.

XXX. As we were about to depart, we said to the prefect and those who were present, "These letters, you know well, seeing them, the Cherubim will recede; and the flaming sword, turning its back, will grant us entry into paradise, revering our faces, which have been so shamefully inscribed for the sake of the common Master. For we alone from all ages have undergone this, and a new device has been found; and you have shown yourselves to be more humane than all those who have raged against our divine dogma. But in the face of Christ you will surely recognize [it], and these letters will be presented for your reading. For He Himself has said, 'Whatever you did to one of these least ones, you did it to me' (Matt. XXV, 40)."

XXXI. When the emperor heard these words through the prefect, he thought he should say, struck, as I suppose, by the clarity of the reasoning, "If I knew this to be true, I would have inscribed these things in such a way upon the faces of all my people." We, therefore, have declared these things, although there are many others, more briefly, as we have many witnesses of the things that were done; who, I well know, will narrate these things more and more clearly, as they, clearly, observed better than we what was then done and said. Nor indeed

were these things done in a corner or in some hidden place, but in the theatre, and in the midst of the inhabited world. And such, then, is the epistle.

[AB] XXXII. But after such an inhumane and novel punishment, which these blessed men underwent for the sake of the veneration of divine icons, while their faces were still dripping with blood from the lacerations, they were delivered into custody. Then, by the wicked suggestions of Jannas—who at that time, being of one mind with the lawless emperor, held the helm of the Church—they were condemned to exile. Apamea in Bithynia therefore received them. The emperor had also commanded that their bodies should not be granted burial after death; this, on the one hand, as an insult to them, and on the other, out of envy toward the orthodox for such a good and desirable possession in common. There, then, that noble pair of brothers dwelt, teaching the orthodox faith and exhorting others to the performance of virtues. They were highly persuasive, for they offered their exhortation not so much by words as by deeds themselves. For they had unshakeable proofs: for the orthodox faith, the piercings and cruel scourging they endured for its sake; and for virtue, their very life and temperance, which vied almost with the nature of the incorporeal.

[AC] XXXIII. When the time of release called, and of the departure to Him for whom they longed, Theodore, oppressed by old age, by disease, and furthermore by the severe physical exhaustion from the imprisonment, committed his soul into the hands of God the Creator in the very prison; having kept his life immaculate in conduct, and his speech faultless in piety, leaving behind a memory of his martyrdom that could never be consigned to oblivion; having reached the end of his life on that very day on which Stephen, the first of the martyrs, with similar zeal received his perfection.

[AD] XXXIV. But Theophanes, with other pious men—as many as it was fitting to assemble at that time, that they might not be deprived of the gift of sanctification and grace from him who was now departed—having honored that venerable and brotherly body with many encomia and chants, placed it in a wooden coffin and kept it by himself: partly

^A out of admiration for its incorruption, and partly boasting in the memory of his contests, he laughed long at the impious tyrant’s decree; for he who did not even want to be deemed worthy of burial was himself worthy of the heavenly tabernacles. Then he also records his struggles in the canons, on the one hand setting aside the dirge—as it was not fitting—and providing chants instead, and on the other hand comforting the desire of those who had gathered. For it is said that one of the elders, being carried along at that time by a great zeal for piety, looked down upon the king’s threat and did not spare his own life, so that by faith, prostrating himself before the blessed one's relics, he might partake of the grace flowing from there. Having therefore arrived at the place during the time of his departure—or rather, his release to God—and having become one of those chanting, he confirmed what followed, as if he heard at that time the sweetest and most amazing voice singing from above; whether one might think this to be angelic, or some other [voice] occurring by the nod of God, it would be clear to God, and to those to whom it is worthy to see such things. ^B XXXV. Thus, then, the ark kept the body of the divine Theodore, being honored constantly with abundant miracles. When God, in His goodness and mercies, had looked upon it again, and impiety as if a fog had been dissolved from the midst, and the orthodox dogma was again being strengthened, and Theophilus, the man hated by God, had departed from human life, those who had been cast out of their homeland and the churches for Christ’s sake returned from exile; the great Theophanes also returned, being a martyr and honored with the stigmata for Christ’s sake, expecting another great and irremovable reward of his confession from God, and for the present adorning the see of Nicaea in Bithynia through the competing devotions of the pious. ^C XXXVI. A long time had passed after this, and the treasure was unknown—I refer to the body of blessed Theodore, which had undergone many contests. For it remained lying in the place where it had been left by his brother. ^D Yet a certain religious and God-loving man,

Notes of Father Combefis

and also, as he himself wished in some way to be a companion to the athletes, he transfers the body of this blessed man from Apamea to Chalcedon; which, indeed, they followed with perpetual hymns, and [which] priests and monks, as is fitting, carried with their hands. In which place, having built a sacred monastery, he deposits that treasure there; and even now it provides to all who approach it strength of soul and body, and delivers [them] from every disease and ailment, to the glory of God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ, now and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

COMMENTARY ON THE HOLY APOSTLE JOHN, THE EVANGELIST AND THEOLOGIAN.

1. That man is not far removed from the angels, and that it is possible for him to be with them, and to stand near them, and furthermore that he is even able to imitate God, and, what is much greater, to be made a son of His by grace, this great evangelist and apostle shows above all others: having obtained the Virgin as his mother, and having been deemed worthy to be called the brother of Christ, and having become a companion to Him in mysteries. But although the very divine oracles with a loud voice proclaim the great deeds of God in him, yet our discourse will explain this more clearly. For this is the voice of the Word, the son of thunder, encompassing the whole world with his preaching: and, what is greater than all and alone sufficient, the one beloved by my Christ, he had no city for his homeland, but was born of a certain humble village and an abject region. The scribes confirm this statement, saying that a prophet has not arisen from Galilee. And that truly Israelite also confirms it, contending that no good thing can come from Nazareth. 1 From this [place], therefore, and from such a [background], this great priest was brought forth like a branch, being by his father likewise—conformably to [his] homeland—abject and obscure, namely, a fisherman and a pauper. And he had already passed beyond the age of childhood; furthermore, the father takes the son to the same trade, making him heir to the fisherman’s craft. Therefore, as a companion in the craft

^A the boy shared with his father, and poverty was a common guest to them both. For what could anyone say is poorer or more humble than fishermen? Yet of these, one was this herald and teacher of the truth. And what is more, as proof of this humility, he did not even fish in the sea, but spent his time in a small lake with his father and his brother James, occupying himself there, mending torn nets (which was itself a sign of the most extreme poverty) and alleviating the lack of necessities by the labor of his hands. Of Greek education, therefore, he possessed not even a little. And the divine Luke is a witness, calling him unlearned and ignorant. He had only this one mark by which he was recognized, the noble one, and this good lineage he drew from his fathers: piety. But when the clouds of the shadow were lifted, and the types began to pass over into the truth, and You, Lord, who single-handedly fashioned our hearts, did not break Your covenant that was made with us, but seeing, You saw the affliction of Israel; and without stripping Yourself of Your divinity, for our sake You became that which we are, without sin, and without abandoning the throne of the Father, You dwelt in a Virgin for my sake, that I might dwell in the heavens, having been called back from the ancient fall, and delivered from sin, and having received the first adoption—it was necessary that there be disciples who would serve the mystery of the dispensation. Then indeed Andrew and Peter are called, and this one also is summoned, he who was busy around nets and fish and lakes; and being ordered by the voice of the Word to be made a fisher of men, he immediately leaves behind his father and brother and his boat, and joins himself to the One calling him. He puts off the earthly man for the sake of the heavenly, and learns the catching of rational souls; and following the tracks of the Teacher, he loves his enemies and blesses those who persecute him. In a word, he is instructed with exactitude in His law; and having encountered such an instructor, he demonstrates a training in proportion. And placing ascents in his heart, he becomes a most intimate disciple, a most theological herald. He regulates all the senses; he becomes altogether familiar with virginity, using such a mode of sustenance as to be able only to live, and to preserve the sacred body so that it might subsist. ^C Hence he is enriched by the title of virginity, and becomes a friend of Him who holds the command; or rather, he even has Him speaking within him, and in turn hears from Him what He had heard from the Father. When He ascends the mountain, he accompanies Him, and is deemed worthy of a vision wondrous and greater than can be told, having beheld the very divinity of the Word stripped bare. And he hears the heavenly voice of the Father declaring His beloved Son, and placing the Gospel before the Old Testament. The supper is fitting; and not even then is John left behind. Then, when it was necessary for Peter to learn who it was that would bring forth that horrendous betrayal, and not even he ^D

himself ^A dared to ask, although he held the primary place in the choir of the disciples, he commits this to John. For he knew that what Christ was to him, John was to Christ, and that he himself was the one who loved, while the other was the one who was beloved. And behold the abundance of his boldness. For he does not merely ask, nor does he approach with reserve after first preparing the way, but knowing how great the affection was that the Master had for him, he clings to him as he sits, and reclining on his breast, he says: "Lord, who is it that betrays thee?" The Lord also gladly accepts the deed and welcomes it as though he had spoken with fitting boldness. For the fact that he immediately resolves the question and indicates the traitor by the bread signifies that he does not take it amiss that he used such boldness. From this it is also manifest that the seat which he sought near Christ with his brother, he sought not as a lover of glory, but as a lover of Christ, and because he did not wish any other to be nearer to the one he desired. Jesus is condemned, and John is present; and being known to the high priest, he enters the courtyard of the high priest together with him, and speaks to the portress, and brings in Peter, who was standing before the door. The time of the saving passion is at hand, and the Word remains to depart to the Father, and John stands by the cross with the Mother; and the Mother hears from her Son and Maker: "Behold thy beloved son," and again to him: "Behold thy mother." ^B From this time forth, therefore, this virgin, both in mind and in body, takes to himself the mother and the virgin. Not long after, he sees Christ risen, and seeing him, he recognizes him, and he comes with Peter to the tomb—and running ahead first and seeing the burial cloths—he receives the inspiration of the Spirit, and is enriched with the gifts, and is consecrated by divine hands as an apostle of the whole world.

II. But since he had heard that the Master had other sheep also, which, even if they were not of this fold, yet ought to be gathered, and be ruled by the same shepherd, and become one fold, and follow him rightly and freely, and not be stolen or scattered or destroyed by a strange pipe; he is anxious about these as much as is right, and is sent upon the journey to them in order to gather into one the scattered, and to call back by the pipe of truth the one that had erred, and to restore the fold under one true shepherd, intending to render any soul that was hard and resistant supple and tender by this same fire. Whence he leaves Palestine and sets out for Asia. And when he had rightly settled the matters concerning it, he occupies Ionia and approaches Ephesus, where there were more and crueler wild beasts, and things that were far more dangerous than any other danger. And first indeed, with one prayer he overturns the temple of the Amazons consecrated to their idols, and destroys it as one would mud in the street. Then, of the priests who were named from the appellation of the sacrifices, some by words, others by ^C

^A reproofs, and necessities, he translates them from their error; and by such superabundant means he effects that they are transformed to learn piety, and that they themselves are constituted in the future as teachers of the truth. And so, partly by rebuking others, and partly by counseling what is fitting, becoming all things to all men, he ensures that all who can be saved are delivered—so that from this, that which was said by Paul might be known: "Where iniquity abounded, there grace did superabound" (Rom. V, 20).

^B III. But to the evil one, resting was not given among these things. Certainly, observing with envious eyes that piety was growing so much, and knowing the cause of this matter, he moves every stone against it. What design then does he take? He approaches Domitian, the son of Vespasian, who attained the empire after Titus, and with him he decides against piety. But before all things, he attempts to take away John, who was the strength of all. And immediately he leads him from Asia to Europe, and relegates him into exile, just as the following discourse will be able to demonstrate. For when he had come into the sight of the emperor, and was asked who he was, and from where he had sprung, and what sort of religion he professed, and whom he said was to come—John, indeed, answered that he was called John, and had sprung from the race of the Jews, and was of the fellowship of the Christians; but that he was announcing this one who was to come, whose throne should be as the moon, prepared and perfect for the age. But when the emperor had said: ^C "And by what means can you confirm these things? For these are not sufficient to create faith in those things about which there is no prompt demonstration; diseases instantly"—(O ineffable, Lord, thy power!)—"and legions of demons are driven out, and the dead revive, following the command more swiftly than the living." To whom, O king—they say John replied—"Do not doubt, from these things which appear, to conjecture the appearance of those things which are not manifest. Furthermore, as for what are related concerning Saturn and Jove and the rest of your gods, if there were not those sufficient who demonstrated before us, surely I also could easily show them to be nothing, but filled rather with ^D extreme abuse and laughter and folly. But truly, having cast off the saltiness of deception, be refreshed rather by a potable and sweetest fountain." They say that he was seized by stupidity at the same time as by anger: on the one hand because of the portents performed by him, but on the other because he slandered his own gods. And so he did not approach the splendor of his speech, because of the thickness of the shadows which were in his heart. But that he did not kill him, the word spoken to Peter prevented, such as: "If I wish him to remain until I come, what is that to thee?" (Joan. XXI, 22); but he condemned the man to perpetual exile, relegating him to one of the Sporades islands (Patmos was its name), when formerly among the Romans exile was equated with death. Therefore, he was led to the limit

of his exile, and reached the island. Not long after, the islanders regarded the son of thunder as their savior and patron, and they passed over to equity and composed themselves unto piety.

^A IV. Therefore, while the apostle was there, the admirable Dionysius, being now nearly ninety years of age, wrote to him from Athens in this manner: "I greet your holy soul, beloved, and this shall be more special to me than to many. Hail, therefore, truly beloved in Christ." He further adds these things: "What is to be wondered at, if Christ speaks the truth, and wicked men expel his disciples from the cities, distributing to themselves what is worthy of them, and the detestable segregating and separating themselves from the saints?" Then also, at the vary end of the epistle, he indicates these things regarding future events: "For I am altogether worthy to be believed," he says, "in that I have learned from God what decrees are to come to pass for you, and I also say that you shall be delivered from the custody in which you are held on Patmos, and shall return to the Asiatic land, and there perform imitations of the good God, and deliver traditions to those who shall follow you." But these things came to pass later in their own time, and the prophecy received its conclusion (as the discourse will manifest in what follows), when Dionysius, under Domitian, had already finished his life by martyrdom for Christ.

What, then, happened after these things? Domitian was removed from among men, and Nerva succeeded to the empire; being kind and humane, he granted revocation to those who had been condemned to exile. Not much time later, Trajan assumed the Roman scepter, and consequently confirmed the humane edict, recalling those who were in exile. ^B The emperor’s edicts therefore came even to Patmos; a revocation also came for John. He, for his part, decided to sail to Ephesus; but those on the island said that he should not desert them, but remain in their midst, not otherwise than those who cannot bear to be abandoned by a pious father. From this, then, came wailing, mourning, and tears. "Who," they said, "will fulfill your office for us? Under what kind of father and shepherd shall we be? What solace shall we have for our longing, and for the flame proceeding from you?" ^C When they were unable to persuade him as they begged him to retain the man among themselves, the beginning of a second supplication occurred, and they made a second petition, that he should not take his whole self away, nor overwhelm them with the entire weight of grief, but that, instead of the reality, he would leave behind the shadow—his words, I mean—among them, and outline the mystery of the whole dispensation of Christ as it was accomplished among us. ^D He yielded, therefore, to their petition; or rather, he yielded to the paternal affections which he felt toward them; especially since divine Providence had so arranged the salvation of many and the preaching of the Gospel. And first, he enjoined fasting upon himself, he who was already nearly fasting and bodiless; and he proposed this same thing—and also abstinence from evils—to the others. And he left them in this quietude. But he ordered one of the seven to follow him—this was Prochorus—that he himself, indeed,

might note things from God, and the other might note things from him. He himself reaches the summit; and he stands erect like Samuel, and like Moses he is fashioned with hands uplifted, and, withdrawing his mind from the senses, he refers it entirely to the One who is desired. What, then, followed from this? Dreadful thunders and terrors and lightnings, breaking forth continuously and flashing suddenly; if one were to call these images and figures of what had happened long before to Moses, when he was meeting with God and receiving the tablets from Him, he would not fall short of the truth. Then Prochorus, prone and as if breathless, could not endure to linger amid such spectacles; but he himself stands unmoved, for love has cast fear far away. To a voice and at last the thunder is articulated, and it resounds more clearly: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Prochorus, who was near by divine appointment, saw the light, although trembling a little, yet he heard nothing, because neither did those who were once with Paul and Moses hear those who were instructing them in sacred things. The Theologian is the tongue of the thunder. And the initiate, having recovered a little from the fear, with a trembling hand writes down what was caught from there, until the Gospel was completed. Then the terrors withdraw, and the heavenly things are revealed to those on earth. ^B And at last John descends from the mountain, having been entrusted with the new law, just as Moses, the beholder of God, had the tablets of old, and he carries it and gives it to those who had asked for it. Thus, therefore, having entrusted to them the new law which he had received, he himself—by force, indeed, and against the wills of the islanders—set sail, nevertheless, toward Ephesus. But they, just as those who are held for a long time by the blindness of their eyes, if ever they are able to cast off the disease, perceive the sun more pleasantly, so too the Ephesians, having received back the beloved of Christ, are disposed in a certain way even more desirably than before. What, then, of him? Although exhausted many times over, he gives no sleep to his eyes, nor slumber to his eyelids, nor rest to his temples; but he exhorts the people, and shows zeal against the unbelieving. He leads back those tripped up by error to the truth, he drives away the wild beasts who had impudently forced themselves into the flock after his departure, and he recalls the flock. Having thus managed affairs in Ephesus, he departs to the neighboring nations, here to appoint bishops, and there to teach whole Churches to be sealed ^C by the Spirit.

V. But here, as my discourse has reached this point, that act of his generous and humane soul enters my mind. Which I shall recount, tracing it back from earlier times (just as Clement himself, the presbyter of the Church in Alexandria—a man admirable in other respects, and indeed praiseworthy for his eloquence, as he says in his discourse, "Which Rich Man Is Being Saved"). For John, having arrived after his return from Patmos to

^A a certain one of the neighboring cities—the name of which some also mention—and having suitably refreshed the brethren who were there, he found a certain youth, moderate in stature and fair of countenance. And by the sharp-sighted efficacy of the Spirit, having discerned the nobility of his soul and the freedom of his character, he bestowed blessings upon the youth, and sufficiently anointed and aroused him towards virtue. But since he was now about to depart and go elsewhere, that he might traverse both land and sea with his preaching, he committed the youth to the bishop of the city in the church, before Christ as witness, having given him many instructions regarding the lad’s discipline and education. The bishop received him readily and promised to surpass him in his care for the youth. ^B Thereafter, the one set out for Ephesus, while the other, taking the youth into his home, nourished, instructed, and looked after him; and finally, he baptized him. But once he had bestowed upon him the seal of the Lord as a secure safeguard, he thereafter relaxed his watch. But certain ones of his own age, unbridled and undisciplined in their desires, coming upon him who had received his liberty before the proper time, first won over the young man—easily persuaded toward vice—with sumptuous banquets and tables. What then followed? For the path of vice is smooth and downward, and it is very easy for one who has taken the first step along it to be brought down straightway through its whole course ^C to the very bottom. Therefore, when they went out by night for looting, they took the youth with them; and he, already smoldering with a love for robbery, and sharpening his desire with the hope of riches, no longer thought of anything small, because of the greatness of his nature. Indeed, he showed those who were with him a band of robbers, and this man became their first and most violent leader. After these things, John again visited the city, and when he had settled the other matters for which he had come, as was proper, "Come now," he said to the bishop, "restore to us the deposit which I and Christ entrusted to the Church, with you as a witness." But he, thinking it was money that was being asked for, at first was struck with amazement, ^D as he was not conscious of having received that which was being demanded, and could not believe that a demand was being made for something he did not have, nor could he disbelieve John. But when he said, "I am asking for the youth, and the soul of my brother," the old man, sighing from the depths of his heart with a more fervent spirit and with tearful pity, said, "He is dead." And when asked when, and how, and by what death, he said, "He is dead to God, for he chose to live by robbery, and to inhabit the mountain instead of the church, having embraced the conversation of wicked men in preference to our solicitude and care for him." He, having been oppressed by violent grief at this, said, "In truth, I left a fine guardian for the soul of my brother behind;

^A but he is caught while fleeing. And I have come for this very thing, and I say, 'Lead me to your leader.'" He, when he recognized that this was indeed that John, fled, feeling ashamed, but he was pursued by him, forgetting his old age and the agitation that usually accompanies the world. Then, crying out with a certain great and heavy voice, he said, "Why, my child, do you flee from me, your father? Revere my gray hair; have pity for the flower of your youth. A hope for life still remains for you. I will render an account for you. Stop in your place, child. Christ has sent me to you." Hearing these things, the young man first stopped, looking intently at the ground, not even able to look up because of his shame. Then he cast his arms to the earth and lamented in a pitiable and deeply emotional way. And when the old man came forward, he embraced him—for of what wailing were his groans not worthy, and of what weeping were his lamentations not worthy? He concealed only his right hand; for he felt ashamed to present even this to him, which he had defiled with so many impurities and robberies. But he, ^B as a father, being moved in his compassionate heart, guaranteed forgiveness and promised that the Judge would be merciful. And taking hold of his right hand, he kissed it and led the young man back to the church. Then, using abundant prayer and persevering in fasting, and softening the young man’s soul with varied medicinal discourses as if with salves, he did not depart before he had restored him to his former wholeness, having left behind a great example for life unto repentance.

VI.

anxious from double concerns—at one time indeed enticed by the delights present here and by the desire for this life, at another time considering the multitude of debts and the other hardships arising from poverty—he stood in the midst of extreme inability to decide. ^A For when he looked toward this sweet light, he turned away from the poison; but when he looked toward the poverty surrounding him on all sides and the anxiety sitting within his soul, he dared to attempt the end of his life. Nevertheless, he was overcome by necessity, and in order that he might be freed from the hardships of this life, he chose to be freed from life itself. At last, having poured out the poison and taken the cup with his fingertips—since his soul did not lean toward it, but rather he was in deep fear, and his heart within him kept beating—he finally signed the poison with the cross, the mark customary for Christians, and having closed his eyes and drunk it immediately (O the greatness and wonder of your power, Christ!), he remained unharmed, the cross having taken away the power of the poison.

But when he was again held by the same necessity and was besieged by the same creditors, and his soul was no less oppressed than before by poverty, and [yet] sought for liberation from his present circumstances in every way, and [was] hesitating to go to a second poison and shrinking back from death—but judging that to remain unfreed from the difficulties at hand was a greater evil than death itself—he goes to the sorcerer. And again, he asks him for another poison, curing evil with evil, since what he had received before had brought no help for his need, as its nature was overcome. ^B For the foolish man said that this [nature] had been an obstacle to the efficacy of the poison, not understanding that the cross was there also, destroying death, just as it had earlier brought down the serpent which was much more powerful than this [poison]. Therefore, that sorcerer and poisonous man, having also judged the weakness of the poison, offers a second one to him, much more potent than the former.

And when he had returned home again and was about to drink it, he wrestled with the former fear and agony and those double anxieties, and he was streamed with sweat on all sides and trembling. Then, when he again signed the cup with the customary sign of the cross and drank, he was still unharmed by the evil; he was amazed himself, also, not even having the power to conjecture the cause, and he was terribly tossed by the goads of his helplessness. ^C For not yet was he able to understand that the efficacy of the cross was what was extinguishing the power of the poison, the man being plunged into a sea of despondency and of calamities, and unable to recover himself even a little, or to perceive what was before his feet. Hence it is that he goes to the Hebrew again and reports the same things as before. And he, being himself struck with amazement and being at a loss for a long time over the matter, then seeking to detect some cause through which the poison turned out so unsuccessfully (for he was a sorcerer and a craftsman of such things), inquired about everything—how and in what manner he had taken the poison in his house. And when, "Not..."

he said, “anything else do I do upon arriving home, other than that, having poured the poison into the cup, then also having become a little unsteady, and my heart being shaken with anxiety, I seal the cup with the sign of the cross, as is the custom for Christians to do because of fear, and with my eyes closed, I drink it.” When the Hebrew heard the name of the cross here, he immediately understood what it was, namely that it was the cross that removed the potency of the poison. But so that the matter might not be merely a bare suspicion, he required some proof. And having administered ^A of the poison to one of his dogs, he immediately killed it. The Hebrew, requiring no further proofs, abjured his ancestral sect and adhered to the truth. And this, first of all, destroys the deception; and the poison, truly, becomes to the one who had used it in another way a deadly venom manifest—a suitable proof of his change. He approaches the disciple of Christ, the guide of those who are led astray. With the multisonant trumpet of the Spirit he declares the plot, refutes the folly, makes public that wicked mystery, and triumphs over the weakness of the former deception. And he welcomes the one approaching, praises his repentance, and fortifies him with exhortations and counsels. Then he also regenerates him through baptism and reconciles him to the Lord of all. But indeed, neither did the dispenser of our common salvation disregard him who had been the cause of the change for the Hebrew, even though he was in such a bad way; but having learned the cause which had led him into such danger, and because of which he was ^B even willing to wretchedly deprive himself of life, he restores him with fatherly conversations, and he lifts up his soul which had already fallen—casting out his gloom and despair. Then he also brings him consolation through deeds, being able to accomplish even this. For since he saw him oppressed both by the demand of creditors and by a lack of necessities, and for this reason wretchedly throwing away his life itself, what does he do? And consider here with me what kind of gifts he had been deemed worthy of. For that which Peter did before, when going into the temple with him at the ninth hour of prayer, as Luke says, upon the lame man sitting at the Beautiful Gate asking for alms, saying, “Silver and gold I have none, but what I have I give to you,” at the same time bestowing health upon his feet, this indeed he also does here. For knowing that he had neither silver nor gold, in order to relieve the necessity of his need from this, he ordered the man to take as much of the nearby grass ^C as both his hands could hold. And when he was ignorant of what the cause might be, and what in the world the apostle wanted by this act, and had grasped as much grass as filled his entire palms, by prayer alone and by the sign of the cross, he changed it, and immediately showed that the grass he had taken in his hands was gold, and most pure gold; and straightway to take this

he ordered, and at once to resolve the lack of means resulting from the present destitution, and to pay the debts, and from there to gather the foundations for the remainder of his life, and to render thanks to God. What then could be equal to this miracle? For if at the entrance of the temple perhaps even this one in some way had been a help to Peter, and both had asked for a more abundant grace of the Spirit; here, however, it is possible to see the power of John alone, and how great an intimacy with God he possessed.

^A VII. But these things he showed while he was still dwelling on earth, driving away errors, and sowing the preaching of piety, and recalling the truth. But after he had brought all that was his part to God, making heaven his stage, but the world the theater, and having made the angels spectators, who were astonished at the beauty of his virtue and his wisdom (for the divine oracles of his teaching were more ^B desirable than gold and much precious stone, and sweeter than honey and the honeycomb), he went forth from the city, ordering his disciples to carry with them a mattock and a spade, and straightway ascending to a mountain, where now his temple is established, being excellent in both beauty and size, and standing in it, "Here, my children," he said, "dig for me." Then, when he had signed his whole self, and said, "Do You be with me, Lord Jesus Christ," and had added to those standing by, "Peace to you, brothers," he let his mantle down into the pit; and he himself also descended into it; and in body he occupied the middle of Asia, where formerly those who were of the Greek ^C school used to philosophize. But the disciples tore their hair, beat their cheeks, lamenting piteously their orphanage, calling him shepherd, governor, savior, and in sum, everything to everyone. Then, also, coming into the city, they manifest to those who were in the city what had been done. But as the day was dawning meanwhile, they run together to the tomb, desiring to learn if the teacher were still alive; and they approached the fold, but the shepherd appeared nowhere; his sandals alone were lying there, but he who had cast them off had disappeared. They run hither and thither, just as those who were with Elisha, they search ^D and investigate; but their labor is rendered in vain. Then, at the very last, having barely remembered that voice: "If I will that he remain until I come, what is that to you?" they return to a more cheerful mind. And he indeed is joined to Enoch and Elijah the Tishbite; but they, departing from their lamentations, praised the God of the universe who had so glorified his beloved. On this day, therefore, when these things happened, a splendid gathering is celebrated at Ephesus for this Theologian, from every race and every age, which imitates the brightness of the stars. Furthermore, in this holy place, to which he with his mantle was lowered, fine dust springs forth and is given off, healing

offering to every comer a remedy for every affliction. ^A Since, therefore, at the all-night hymnody of his feast, this is distributed by those who serve therein to the multitudes gathered for this purpose, it is not in the least diminished; but the more they draw from it, the more abundantly it springs forth, like some perennial treasure, at once making those who partake of it wealthier, and becoming more abundant than itself through the grace and philanthropy of our Lord Jesus Christ, with whom, to the Father, together with the Holy Spirit, be glory, power, honor, and adoration, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER AND ARCHIMANDRITE OF THE ACOEMETAE MONASTERY, MARCELLUS

LIFE AND CONVERSATION OF OUR HOLY FATHER AND ARCHIMANDRITE MARCELLUS OF THE MONASTERY OF THE ACOEMETAE, THAT IS, THE NON-SLEEPING ONES.

(Latin version in Surius, December 29th; Greek from the Paris codex, 1559.)

^B I. It has often come into my mind to wonder for what reason countless poets have composed works, some on wars, enmities, and the calamities arising from them; and others on things entirely fabulous and strange, which can neither benefit themselves in regard to the salvation of the soul, nor offer any useful service to those who read the works they have compiled. For what profit is there in knowing how many ships sailed from Greece to Ilium, or how many soldiers each of their leaders commanded, and that Ajax was greater than the others, but Achilles was braver than he, and that Nireus was the most beautiful of all men in form? Yet to carry this superfluous and vain endeavor even to the point of writing about horses—to say that the mares of Eumelus were better than the rest, and that the horses of Achilles were superior even to those, and to call them immortal and endowed with speech—how much empty verbiage, and how much both disbelief and ridicule does this bring upon the writer? But while they [have chosen] to write these things, and even worse than these, namely the loves of the gods and their factions against one another,

they did not hesitate even for a moment. But what, I wonder, does this contribute to the adornment of character and the benefit of the soul, and does it not rather bring harm ^A and engrave the imprints of passions upon the souls of those who occupy themselves with reading them? For no empty labor of those who wish to mitigate these absurdities and reduce them to the elements and parts of the soul can persuade me. For either they did not happen and are spoken of in vain and falsely, or even if they did happen, they ought to be laughed at and hated rather than praised or admired. I consider the life of a good man, who has lived in accordance with the law of God, to be worthy of being elaborated and committed to writing; from which the author himself can secure a great benefit both for himself and for those who read it. Such is clearly shown to be the life of the admirable Marcellus, who originated from the city of Apamea; and this is an Eastern city, abounding in many good things. Born of noble parents, he made the lineage of his family more noble through himself. For while he was just in the flower of youth, having lost his parents, and being at the most graceful stage of life, he did not decline into pleasures like a youth, nor did he delight in the company of the young—wishing, as the saying goes, to please his peer—but in a youthful body he emulated the prudence and way of life of one with gray hair, although wealth was also present to him, which is the fuel for pleasures to the fire of youth. But none of these things forced him to neglect the temperance that had been dear to him from infancy. But both bereavement, and his age, and wealth, and all these things together ^B were overcome by the depth of his mind. By reason of his desire for external education, he came to great Antioch, and began to frequent someone well-practiced in the faculty of speaking. The swiftness of his natural talent, aided by his vehement study, bestowed upon him in a short time the great gifts of wisdom.

II. But after it seemed to him that he had enough of external wisdom—for this was not his principal study, but only to be initiated in these external things so that he might then be initiated in those things that are the only sacred mysteries: namely, the true wisdom that leads to God; I mean the ascetic and philosophic discipline, which consists in practice and true philosophy—he also had need of some guide to it. Since Antioch did not provide what was pleasing to him, he intended to go to Ephesus, having learned that it abounded in men who had reached the height of virtue and were capable of greatly benefiting others. Immediately, therefore, beautiful ^C Antioch was held in contempt, and the pleasant soil of his homeland was disregarded, and wordy contentions, and vain leisure, and all that external scene were despised. Those massive and magnificent riches were divided among the poor, and Ephesus received him stripped of all other things. Having arrived there in this manner, he found a fitting lodging. For a certain man with his wife received him into hospitality, who were his companions not so much in a shared table and salt, as in character and virtues and in all-encompassing gentleness.

III. And this beautiful couple also had a servant in this house, who ^D by reason of his virtue was far more precious than his masters.

^A Such was the freedom and nobility of soul that resided in him, that they say that he was the cause of the virtue of those masters, and that, being a servant, he appeared as the mediator of such goods to his masters. Many other things are recounted of him, and this among the rest: that although the monasteries in the city had their gates properly locked with keys at the late hours of the night, he—with no one opening for him—would stand in the midst of the monks as they chanted. When this happened not once but often, it became manifest, and report of this matter filled the city. The name of this noble person, or rather this true servant of God, was Promotus. This Promotus provided Marcellus with no small incitements toward virtue. For he made it his task to collect what is good from every quarter, and, as if from many flowers, to weave for himself the crown of virtue.

Along with the other good qualities that Marcellus possessed, he also had the skill of writing beautifully. He wrote, therefore, and labored with his hands; and of the wages that were supplied to him from this, he consumed a certain portion for the needs of his body, while giving the rest to those in need. Along with pity, he also exercised the achievement of justice. For if the wages paid to him were greater than the work of his writing merited, he would not keep it; but if there was anything extra, he would return it to the one who had given it. And thus he continued, laboring at his writing by day, and, as the divine oracles say, ^B directing the work of his hands toward God; while spending almost all his nights in prayer, and through this, joyfully conversing with God and being united to Him. And if he ever did allot even a little to sleep for the sake of bodily necessity, not even this was easeful, but laborious and disciplined. Thus, his entire time was full of struggles, labors, and contests.

IV. But having heard of a certain Alexander, a man incomparable in virtue, full of wisdom, full of pastoral care and concern for souls, who at that time was living in Byzantium for the salvation of many, he no longer loved remaining in his present situation, but, desiring a better way of life, he went to him as quickly as possible. At that time, the divine Alexander was practicing his asceticism at the holy house of the great martyr Menas; later, he founded a venerable monastery ^C at the very mouth of the Pontus. In it he introduced a rule—novel, but the most beautiful of all in every place: that the continuous hymns to God should never be interrupted, but through the alternation of those serving by turns, this unceasing and untiring glorification should be rendered to the Master. To this divine Alexander, therefore, when Marcellus had arrived there, good Jacob recommended him—who had previously been an acquaintance of Marcellus, and having come to Alexander, was the first among his disciples. He was pleased to be a disciple of Alexander, but it pained him that he did not also have Marcellus as a fellow student.

V. After he saw him arriving, he gladly brought him to the master and said, “This is he, Father, as therefore ^D

^A he fled not those who were persecuting us, but rather, while persecuting, he escaped notice.” This divine Marcellus was commended to Alexander, and by his hands was clothed in the sacred habit, being second to Jacob in time, but far superior in manner. On account of this, it is said that the master spoke thus of him: that even though Andrew had been the first to follow the Master, John also had followed; naming them thus, the one Jacob, and the other the admirable Marcellus. He knew both to be brothers in virtue and running with equal intensity, but he likened Marcellus to John, since he also was a virgin and had a close connection regarding doctrine. Of the others, indeed, Jacob held the first place, but Marcellus surpassed even him. Both were an equally good pair, and, as if in one and the same body of brotherhood, they occupied the place of the eyes. But since it was not fitting that those who were so purified in mind should not see the future just as the present, the death of the master did not escape Marcellus; but even though he knew this, he had no less foreseen that other thing as well, that the lot was about to fall upon him and that he would be called away from being shepherded to shepherding others. Fearing this—that a young man might rule over elders—and at the same time being a friend of modesty and rejoicing in subjection, he withdrew from the monastery without anyone knowing, like a bee, as they say, gathering flowers. Thus the saint went about in a circle, and by collecting goods from each, he increased for himself the wax of virtues.

VI. Meanwhile, while he was visiting men ^B studious of virtue, the most holy Alexander departed from this life. When he had passed away, Marcellus was immediately on everyone’s lips, and the fact that he was not present caused a twofold distress: both that he was absent at that time, and that at the death of Alexander there was no Marcellus, who was believed to be the one to hold the leadership after him. Therefore, John was chosen to preside, a man grey in hair and in prudence; to him, even the famous Jacob gave way willingly on account of his age. But when these things had thus proceeded, they could not escape the notice of Marcellus. But after they had reached their end, he himself returned and was united with John, becoming his right hand, and bearing the burden of administration most excellently, since the latter, because of his office, became in no way more arrogant, and the former was pure from all envy and bound to him by true love. Thus, therefore, the monastery of Alexander held them both.

VII. But after some time, moved by Philotheus, John withdrew from this place. He came to a certain ^C spot, free equally from the disturbance of the city and the hardship of solitude. The place is in the region of the Bithynians; it is situated in the straits of the sea, and opposite it is seen what is called Sosthenium. This, whether because it was remote from noise or for some other reason, was then called Irenaeum. But since John gave the site its name from the reality—on account of the perpetual canticles offered to God—it is called to this day the monastery of the Sleepless. For the same pattern as Alexander’s and

^A which John imitated, he made the glorification of those who sang by turns go on without any interruption of sleep. When he had moved his sacred monastery here (for he had already received the place as a gift from that man of God mentioned before), it is impossible to say with what services and honors he sought to win over Marcellus and bring him under his own authority, knowing that he himself was advanced in age, while the other excelled in asceticism, learning, acuity of mind, and every other virtue. And so, the care of all common affairs was entrusted to Marcellus. For Divine Providence knew him to be John’s successor, and wished to train him well in what pertains to ruling. This was signified by other proofs as well, but it became manifest most of all by this: that both of them on the same day, John ascended to the rank of presbyter, and Marcellus ^B to the rank of deacon.

VIII. Nor did these things signify only the future; for there was also a certain man who himself presided over a rational flock, not far from John’s monastery, whose name was Macedonius, a man of most pure life and of a certain divine and prophetic soul. Since he did not escape the notice of Marcellus, and since he too saw him who observed, being a prophet, he did not fail to recognize his equal, and he frequently visited him. And he not only exhorted him to take charge of the flock, but foretold that, because of his virtue, he would be widely renowned; that his fame would fill almost the whole earth and sea; and that many Greeks and barbarians, hanging upon his tongue, would abjure their

desire [to be placed before him], and for this reason chose flight, so as not to be seen as second to him and not to be able to endure the preference easily.

X. Although these matters were easy to refute, experience would teach them more accurately. For desiring to show to what depth of humility Marcellus had attained, and to persuade the monks not to judge too easily, John said: “My sons, the judgment must be entrusted to the facts themselves.” And having said nothing more, he revolved in his mind, for when Marcellus returned, to entrust to him the lowest order of ministry—namely, the care of the donkeys. When, therefore, he had returned, and the superior commanded this—which seemed most ignominious—in the sight of all, Marcellus here gave a manifest proof of his modesty and submissive spirit. For not only did he gladly accept the order, but he showed something even more refined. For he said he undertook this burden of ministry so gladly that he even placed it in the category of a benefit, and asked that it be guaranteed to him in writing, so that even if he wished, he could not depart from it. And he did not just say it without doing it; nor did he do it for a short time, but in the deeds themselves he was seen to be far more zealous. And he persisted in this ministry for so long until all, becoming suppliants with many prayers, begged him to forgive them and to depart from such a service; for it was absurd that such a man, who was worthy to rule a rational flock, should descend to such contemptible services. ^B

XI. Not much time passed, and John himself, who presided over the monastery, departed to the Lord, and immediately the divine Marcellus took up the leadership of the brothers, and the rays of his spiritual gifts, such as they were and how many, became manifest to all. But what would anyone admire first about him: his remarkable mercy toward the poor, or the miracles that were wrought on account of it? For he would consume the common goods (for he had nothing of his own) on those in need in such a way that it seemed before long that both he and the monks would be reduced to destitution; yet he supplied them so abundantly and constantly that what the Lord did was seen no less in the servant. For just as then no more than five loaves and two fish fed a multitude of people to satiety, so now, too, a multitude of the needy was fed daily from a small amount, and yet again it did not fail them. But these things were so; however, how the solution to difficulties from which no exit appeared was given to him from above, and how the things spoken to him attained their end, it is worth saying in a few words. ^{C D}

XII. His flock had been increased by daily accessions, and being expanded daily by the multitude, it made the dwelling place for the sheep narrow. Thus the shepherd needed a larger courtyard, and a larger house of prayer, and more food and other expenses for those who had been gathered. But he had at that time especially exhausted everything on the needy. And he was in need of more [supplies]...

But these things were in the care of God, and, as is His wont, He brought the matter to abundance. For there was a certain Pharetrius, the best of the best and abounding in deep wealth. This man, having conceived a keen love for the philosophy according to God, and having taken with him that great wealth and his children, who were still young, comes to Marcellus, and consecrates everything at once—both the money, and the children, and himself—to God; clothing himself and his sons in the sacred attire of monks, and turning his wealth to flow into the things useful for the monastery. And first, he built the sacred house of prayer for them, both wider and higher, and as it is now, so that many multitudes might be gathered, and that they might perform the work of God without crowding; then all the remaining things: the houses of the brothers, the guest halls, as many as received both the pilgrims and the sick; and simply put, he both renovated those of the houses that were toiling [under age] and threatening ruin, and himself magnificently built others; and he provided an abundance of all other things that were necessary for such a life.

^B XIII. Matters were thus situated; but the flock for Marcellus increased every day and received growth. For the siren of his [eloquence] attracted everyone, namely, a sweet discourse joined to a most pure life. And indeed, having trusted that the flock under him had become divine salt, he sent them to others so that they might also fill the others with the divine salt and pleasure. And as they say that from the great Eden the four rivers go forth, so indeed from the tent of Marcellus began to flow over almost the entire inhabited world a pure and most sweet and saving stream—I mean the most accurate imitation of his life. And furthermore, the zeal for the sleepless service of the powers above, having taken its beginning from there, reached even the first and most royal of cities. ^C Then the imitation passed over into other places as well. And whether anyone was building temples or monastic retreats, or was doing anything else of the sacred works, he would also receive the overseers and the leaders from Marcellus. Thus he became the common founder, through his own disciples, of monastic retreats and temples everywhere, and a common overseer. For those who sought these things from him were persuaded that they would not only become partakers of his teaching, but that some grace and sanctification would also come to them through him, just as those who partake of sacred waters. ^D And as for him, while doing these things, his soul was divided by grief and joy. For as a father who loves his children is saddened when his children are taken away from him, so as one who is the savior of many and who, through them, has become a common benefit, he sent them away rejoicing: these things, and because his children according to God became the fathers of others, and those nourished by him became the shepherds of others.

XIV. Yet he did not send the students away so simply; but having first assured them with many words, and having called God as a witness over them, that no [violation] of custom, or destruction of the habit, or exactness of life...

was to be relaxed; but that they should maintain the rule from the beginning as a law to the end, and be themselves the cause that others also should be harmonized to this [same] way of life. They preserved his virtues and commandments so well, that the same [virtues] which were in him became established in the others, and by their means, this good seed was distributed throughout almost all lands and seas. ^A But as for his life and conduct, and the reputation which he gained for virtue—which, although he fled from it, caused him to fill the whole earth with the fame of his name—as well as his exactness, his love for mankind, and his care for those everywhere; the discourse has made known only certain traces and impressions of all these things. ^B It wishes, however, to bring forward also some of his miracles, and to offer a narrative which is both useful and not unpleasant to the ears of those who love God.

XV. Three bishops, who had been taken captive by the enemy and had only just been released from their calamity, came to Marcellus, and asked that he might give them what was necessary for their refreshment and recovery. ^C He deemed them worthy of both provision and consolation; and since much time had passed, and each of them was mindful of his own home and Church, he gave them in abundance what was necessary for their journey. The provision was gold; and he ordered him who was in charge of expenses (whose name was Julian) to present the bishops with the gold and send them away. He, out of the ten staters which he had at that time, brought only three, equivalent in number to the men. But the great man (for nothing of what was occurred was hidden from him) ordered him, without any niggardliness, to give them all. ^D Yet even then he did not act with pure simplicity, but gave nine and kept back one, wishing—as he pretended—to act the role of a good steward, so that he might have something to give to the poor who were accustomed to come to him. What happened then, and how Julian was taught both not to be anxious about the future and not to imagine that anything at all could be hidden from the great man? A certain man, moved from above, came to Marcellus and gifted him with ninety talents. The holy man, addressing him whom he had supposed would manage the distribution as was proper, but who had not made good use of the stewardship, said: "Behold, O niggardly one, where your sparing has ended! You have caused our donation to be ten whole talents less; for because you did not wish to give the one, we have been deprived of the ten which we might have received, since we were to have received tenfold what we had given." But this was perhaps a clear proof, not only that he foresaw the future, but also that one ought not to be anxious about the morrow, and that he possessed great kindness toward the needy.

XVI. But since we have signified a little concerning his prophetic gift, it is time that...

we should also drink from the fountain of his healings. One of the monks, Elpidius by name—though he was in the grip of a disease that surpassed all hope—had his entire mouth afflicted by a grievous ulcer; and beneath his tongue he had developed a massive growth of flesh, which rendered him speechless and turned his organ of voice into something useless. To these unbearable pains was added the torment that he could not even voice his own agony. Both of these—the ulcer and the growth—having brought with them the shame of disgrace, made death seem most desirable to the man. Thus, when the holy man stopped by one day, Elpidius sighed from the depths of his heart and, having barely spoken, said only this: "Woe is me! The master now overlooks me." But he was so far from overlooking him that he was immediately moved to prayer and brought tears of compassion from his eyes. Then, touching both the growth and the ulcer, he healed the one and made the other vanish; he restored the man's mouth clean and pure, rendering it again a useful instrument for him to speak without any impediment and to give thanks. ^A

XVII. Another of the monks, Stephanus by name, was receiving food according to nature, but because he had no way for it to proceed through the natural exit, he was in extreme pain. The art of the physicians, having exerted much labor upon him, only increased his pains through the bitterness of their medicines; indeed, their purgatives and expellants were proven to be in vain, and their effort and labor spent for naught. Since, therefore, the evil was seen to be invincible and the man was not far from bursting, they reported it to Marcellus. He prayed as was his custom; and having come to the sufferer, he touched his belly with his hand, pushing somewhat on the back and forcing the matter downward, he granted the man the natural passage and allowed him to live thereafter without pain. ^B

XVIII. Furthermore, Julianus, who was mentioned a little while ago and who had been reproved for not administering things correctly, likewise experienced Marcellus’s gift of healings, just as he had previously experienced his gift of discernment. For he too was suffering from a disease that seemed—both to him and to all others—to be beyond the reach of medicine or any prayer, and it was threatening his death without a doubt. Having sent for him, he begged Marcellus to come, not so that he might receive healing (for he did not even hope for that), but so that he might grant him a prayer as a viaticum for one who is departing this life. ^C But when the holy man had arrived, he first healed his soul, saying: "Do not, O son, think so humbly and humanly of God, nor measure His affairs by our own. For one of us may perhaps be able to do this, but not that; yet God is shown to be equally more powerful over all things, both small and great. Just as a little while ago, in the matter of the gold, we showed a small spirit while God showed His great munificence, so too in the case of your disease, consider that He acts entirely in a manner befitting God and with great power." Who, having granted us pardon for our unbelief,

^A will grant health. Thus, as he spoke, the healing of the soul was followed by the health of the body, so that afterwards, having lived not so recklessly, but as befits one who is a friend of God, he became a priest, worthy of Marcellus’ teaching and of the priesthood. But how ^B truly terrible this which follows is to the unbelieving, yet greatly to be admired by the faithful!

XIX. A certain man, suffering from the disease of the Samaritan sect, was laboring under an incurable bodily illness. For a sore had broken out on his body, appearing more like a wound than a mere bodily ailment. All ointments and medicines, and whatever was applied by the art of healing, were proven to have no power. As a last hope, therefore, he looked to Marcellus, and having come to him, he at once pleaded with him with prayers. The elder asked him who he was, and from where, and what his religion was. But he would not have asked all these things, had he not looked into the man’s soul. When he had said that he was a Samaritan, and promised that if he were delivered from the affliction, he would immediately change his opinion and gladly embrace the creed of the Christians, the elder prayed, and the healing followed upon his prayer. Having then immediately made his confession and walked in the right way, not even four days had passed before he reverted again to his former false religion. ^C A dog, as they say, to its vomit. And just as the healing of the body was linked to the rectitude of faith, so was the disease rekindled by a faulty faith. These things by no means escaped Marcellus, but when the Samaritan came back to him again, he chided him for his change of heart, yet, forgiving him, he healed the malady once more. But when this happened once and twice, and, by now, many times — the bodily illness would cease, but the sickness of his soul would return, and he would again call him back — he said, "It is Christ who heals you, not I; and consider that the agreements you made concerning your belief were made not with me, but with Him, whom no one can escape, nor deceive." Therefore, having cast aside all deceit and imposture, confess to Him a pure religion, and know for certain that the healing of the flesh will follow in purity. But when that unhappy and mindless man had said that, whatever might happen, he could never abandon his ancestral religion, the elder departed without saying a word. But that unhappy man, having gone a little way from the monastery, and having been seized more violently by the disease, ^D dies, suffering a double death, woe! of both flesh and soul. The great man, having heard these things, shed tears, deeming the event a matter worthy of mourning, and said only this: "You shall not tempt the Lord your God," as if delivering that commandment to all on account of him.

XX. We must now turn our discourse to another healing of a faithful man, which was as swift as it was most delightful. A certain man named Cyrus, previously very robust in body and well-versed in boxing, but later, among the monks,

^A he became also another Job, afflicted by the Evil One with a malignant ulcer. For his entire back was stricken with a most grievous wound. Starting from the neck, it consumed his flesh and laid it completely to waste, and the bones beneath it were left utterly naked. Sharp and inexpressible pains, penetrating the man, would not allow him to stand upright, nor to lie down, nor even to sit, without torment. He, therefore, having passed by both physicians and medical arts, fled to Marcellus alone, and through him to God, and begged of him the cure. Marcellus, having immediately raised his hands and mind to heaven, and having prayed just as he was accustomed, then touching the wound with his hand, said: "O most excellent of men, it is not fitting that you should be overcome by such things. For it does not behoove one who battles against invisible foes to be overly concerned for the flesh. But take heart; for if you have set the Most High as your refuge, this plague shall flee from your tabernacle." ^B It had been spoken, and all things were immediately seen: the bones, the flesh, the skin drawn over them, and the pains ceased, so that in him the sacred prophecy of Ezekiel was almost fulfilled, ^C saying, "I beheld, and lo, upon them were sinews and flesh growing, and skin grew up over them from above."

^D XXI. That this divine man worked miracles not only when present, but also when absent, what follows will show. A certain man named Eugenius, a deacon by sacred office, had a wife who was in labor. When the time of delivery arrived, a vehement fever seized her. The pains were sharp, and the fever was violent. It was therefore useless for the midwives and physicians to attempt anything, and Marcellus was their one remaining hope. He prayed, while Eugenius took hold of his feet, and he told him everything at once—the childbirth, the inflammation, and that the woman was, as they say, standing on a razor's edge. What followed? The great Marcellus, having blessed a loaf of bread, gave it to him and ordered him to place it upon the woman's breast. He did as he was commanded, and immediately the infant emerged from the womb, and the fever from her body. She, as if having returned from some pit or from Hades, said: "Where is the monk who stood by me and healed me? Where is he who drew my soul out of Hades?" And when she was asked who this was and what his appearance was like, she immediately recounted everything—the habit, the hair, the attire, the form—and by her words she described everything so accurately that even those who were very wise understood that this was indeed that marvelous Marcellus. And she surely obtained so much fruit from Marcellus, even in his absence, that through him she both lived and gave birth.

XXII. But what of Eudoxius? For he too was not insignificant, nor did he obtain insignificant things, nor were they of a kind to be lightly regarded. For he was indeed a man who practiced asceticism, but his entire body was languishing and his joints were loosened; yet by prayers...

and tears of the great Marcellus, the loosening of his limbs was resolved, and what is far more, he who a little before lay in bed was sent to serve others. That angels were also present with Marcellus, and especially when he approached to pray, the following events will show. A certain man named Sergius, who himself presided over a flock of those devoted to contemplation and dwelt by the river Euphrates, when the report of Marcellus reached even those parts, became an ardent admirer of the man's virtue. And as the report grew greater, he desired to see him. When therefore he came and found the thing by experience to be greater than its report, he prayed together with Marcellus as he stood for prayer. ^B And when he bowed his head and bent his knee—the one lay, while the other saw that fearful sight—he beheld certain ones white in their garment, shining in form, namely angels, standing on either side of him, lifting up and raising the great man from the ground. Immediately, his face was illuminated with light as if by lightning; his mind was struck with admiration, his voice was taken away, and he was brought almost to the point of death, so that those who were present, seeing nothing of what he saw, were filled with wonder and perplexity, and questioned the man in astonishment; having heard [the account], they were no less amazed at Marcellus for his confidence toward God, and at God for His ineffable love for men. ^C XXIII. From these and similar things, such was the love of all for Marcellus, mingled with admiration, that they might even swear by his name as if by some divine thing, not only others, but even the foremost of those who led the ascetic life; and they deemed it a great and hotly contested thing merely to see him. Once, when a certain one of Marcellus's disciples, by name Peter, had been received into hospitality by Elisha, who presided over a monastery in Edessa and held virtue in high regard—this man, therefore, since he had been drawn into conversation and was speaking at length in praise of his master to Elisha: "It is superfluous, brother," said the other, "to make a speech here about Marcellus. For I myself will be a sufficient witness to you of these things, even before others; for I have prayed much to God concerning the man, and I have known the height of his virtue, the movements of his soul, and even the very form of his body." ^D When Peter heard this and was astonished, he returned and related everything to the saint, doing a thing indeed importunate and troublesome to one who was so averse to catching at glory; yet he did relate it. There was also present at the narration a certain bishop, but he was destitute and in need of the necessities of life. The great man, therefore, being as averse to praises as [he was] to reproaches, checked the stream of his discourse, but asked, knowing that he had it, that he lend him two gold pieces, so that he might bestow somewhat upon the needy one. But he, being very stingy, refused to give them. "But not in a long time," said the great man, "will even the body itself remain to you; but this will indeed [go to] the grave, and the gold will the common [fund] of the monastery receive." Not two days had passed, and he had ended his life, and the money was

received into the common fund. And men perhaps might conjecture many things, and in many things they might also err, if they should attempt to inquire concerning this ^A person: to whom the saint is equal, to whom he is inferior, and to whom he is superior. But God has not left even this unknown; and how, the discourse will presently make known to those who wish it.

XXIV. There is a city named after Pompey, situated by the Euxine Sea. In it a man presided over a monastery, named Gaudiolus, full of the divine Spirit and replete with graces. The divine Thalassius (who was also one of the disciples of the great [Marcellus]), having met with him on account of some business, and having once seen Gaudiolus—rightly, it is true, yet nonetheless—angry ^B at some of his own flock, and because they had previously revolted and he was not welcoming them as they returned, he requested that they be welcomed, and from there he provided the example of the gentleness of Marcellus. But he immediately said to him, "O admirable one, Gaudiolus and Marcellus are not the same; rather, you shall know from this how great the difference is. For when you place Moses [before you], oppose Marcellus to him as well. For God has shown me most clearly that whatever He breathed into the lawgiver, that much he also breathed into Marcellus."

XXV. We indeed add other things, not that we might rightly perceive the man from these, but that we might not be deprived of the most beautiful of narratives. Some of his disciples, having once been sent to the Euxine, decided to sail back. When, therefore, having cast off the moorings, they had spent the whole night cutting through the passage ^C in toil, before they had crossed the entrance of the sea, they put in at a certain place; but it was both rough and highly harborless, and after the wind had blown more fiercely, it was impossible to be saved. Sleep, then, overcame them; but to one of them who was sleeping, he [Marcellus] appeared. This man obeys the vision; the others obey him as well. They cast off the ship, they depart from the place, they sail into the mouth of the Pontus; and when they were inside in safety, a darkness takes hold of the air, and a storm rages over the sea, and thus the waves are lashed and the sea is stirred up, and the ships are swamped, so that the air was filled with wailings and the sea with wrecks. At other times others were sent ^D eastward, and having obtained the prayers of Marcellus, they sailed then indeed; but when it seemed good to them to return, they put in to land. And the city of Ancyra received the others in health. But a grievous disease besieged Paul, one of them. For his traveling companions, to leave the one who was sick was impious, but to take him with them was impossible, and for them to remain with him again was indeed very difficult. But he, having greatly wailed and lamented, said, "Where, Father Marcellus, are your prayers? For you indeed commended me to God, but I am now perishing. And this is not grievous to me, but that I am outside your flock and far from my brothers." This man said these things in Ancyra with tears. But he, being in the monastery, heard, and straightway Paul

^A recovered. The great Marcellus, having called for his scribe Caesarius, ordered him to note down the hour, saying: "One of our brothers, who is far from us, is at this moment passing away and is become gripped by a grievous illness. He asserts that he has received no benefit from my commendation to the Lord. But the Lord is near to all who call upon Him in truth; and He will do the will of those who fear Him, and He will hear their prayer and save them." These things he had written down, and he had indeed been restored, and returned. The writing was shown, and at that very hour Paul was found to have recovered in Ancyra, while Caesarius had been writing in the monastery.

XXVI. God at one time afflicted the earth with a famine, a famine than which I know not if there has ever been a worse. Malchus, the steward of the monastery’s grain, who provided corn to the bakers, ^B after the entire supply had been almost consumed (for it sufficed not even for ten whole days, and there was an absolute necessity that the monks should starve), approached the noble Marcellus and reported to him that the grain was used up. He heard from him to do what he was accustomed to do, and that there was no cause for concern in this. He, thinking that he expected the lack to be solved from somewhere else, provided without any anxiety just as he was accustomed. Five days passed in succession, and when nothing of what he had hoped for had occurred, he spoke again and reminded him of the cause. He heard the same response. And when he had used up the supply for two more days, and it was seen that nothing more was being taken and that the end was not far off, he approached again, troubled. But Marcellus, immediately going to the granary, ^C as if bringing forth, filled it straightway and began to provide. And—what is admirable and surpasses all reason—as long as the aforementioned Malchus was measuring the grain, it appeared to be diminishing and threatening imminent want; but when he entered the next day, there was the same magnitude and the same pile, and it appeared just as if not even a small amount had been taken away the day before. The time itself provides proof that these things were not an illusion of the eyes. For as long as this grievous and infinite famine lasted, there was this ineffable increase and growth of grain. But by these things it is shown that the holy man both sustained the living and saved those who were in danger. And how this great man comported himself in raising the dead and putting demons to flight, shall be told straightway.

XXVII. There was a certain man, sick and bedridden, by the name of Paul, a monk by habit. ^D Being already at his final breaths, he sent and asked for the holy man to come to him. But after the one sent finished the journey and arrived at the monastery, and came into the sight of the great man—for he at that time was engaged in weighty discussions and was occupied with sacred dogmas, contending with the bishop of Chalcedon—the one sent returned again, and the sick man was already dead. Since, therefore, all things that are done for the dead had been completed, and he was ready for the funeral (this, however, had been provided by those above for no other reason than that it might manifest a greater crisis, and a greater miracle, and show the virtue of Marcellus to be greater, as already

^A when the discourse was finished, he came to the sick man; and when he saw that he was dead and already prepared for burial, he was moved in his soul, and tears flowed from his cheeks; yet he did not abandon his confidence in God, but when he had lifted up his hands, his eyes, and his soul to Him, he prayed for a considerable time. Then, not breathing upon him seven times, as the zealot Elijah once did, but only laying his hand upon the dead man, while those who were present, thinking he was attempting something else and not trying to rouse the one lying dead, said that he was dead. But as soon as they said this, the dead man immediately stood up, and speaking, he remembered the sights he had seen there, both in telling of them and hearing them, which were most terrifying. Thus, that man—if I may make so bold—having appeared brighter than the sun, did not wish the miracle that had come to pass through him to be made manifest to the many; but he enjoined silence both upon the one who had risen and upon those who had looked on, just as my Jesus did, bringing to bear such great eagerness to escape the glory that comes from men, as much as he Himself was about to obtain from God; ^B wherefore He who always surrounds those who have chosen to glorify Him with glory, did not allow what had happened to remain hidden. For those who had received these things with their eyes, paying little heed to his commands, since they neither wished to keep them secret, nor to begrudge such a great good to others, sent them forth to many ears, not even concealing this very thing—that having accomplished so great a work, he had commanded silence.

XXVIII. Ought we not also to manifest his power against demons?

likewise having his tongue exposed and hanging from his mouth for a long time, just as in dogs, and then spitting out foam, obtained the same cure. For as soon as the saint saw him with benevolent eyes and prayed for the healing of his affliction, he was immediately seen to be whole, and was delivered from the demon that possessed him. And what need is there to recount all his deeds? For it is easier to count the stars, or to measure the waves of the sea, or to attempt any other impossible thing, than to try to recount all his acts to the end. Nevertheless, some small matters concerning his character must also be brought forward, so that we may know that to whom such things were granted, those things also were entirely owed to him; and at the same time, that the discourse, as it extends in length, may avoid satiety through the variety of the narrative. ^B [XXIX.] This great Marcellus, among the other good qualities he possessed, was also possessed by a great and vehement love for the relics of the saints, considering them to be celestial gifts and truly worthy of the highest esteem; and whoever brought any such thing to him was called a savior and benefactor, and seemed to have been sent from the very heavens. Therefore, God also, assisting him in this prompt and eager zeal of spirit, brought to him from many places many who might satisfy this love of his, and who were bringing him, as a friend, the gifts he most desired; some indeed from the Persians, some from the Illyrians, and some from the regions everywhere. And he, just as with great delight, so also with the greatest honor and reverence, received them; at the same time showing from this his love toward the common Lord, and praising their death and proclaiming it as blessed, and desiring a similar end, if it could be accomplished. ^C God, knowing what his desire was and wishing to gratify him, often showed and signified to him beforehand that on this or that day one would arrive bringing him the things he desired. And he himself would prepare, and would see to it that his entire flock was readied; and thus with a vehement and ardent motion of the heart, and with hands—as they say—upraised, he would receive the precious relics. Nevertheless, this too is not worthy to be omitted. Someone once came to him and presented him with certain sacred relics, saying that they belonged to the holy martyr Ursicinus. He indeed received them magnificently and celebrated the customary feast for them. But while he was standing for the night prayers, such a thought entered his mind: lest he who had brought this gift had lied about it, and the relics were not those of the martyr Ursicinus. ^D As soon as he pondered this, one of those who were ministering with him, as if divinely inspired, running up, said: "Do not doubt in vain, Father; for these are truly the relics of the great Ursicinus." Thus did divine grace provide that his mental doubts be healed, so that his warm and ardent fervor for good things might not become colder by any manner of doubt. And such was his diligence in acquiring the relics. XXX. But he so despised riches and money,

as also the preceding account and now signifies even more clearly. For when Marcellus had from the beginning abandoned all his possessions, and had departed even from his own house, his brother according to the flesh had taken his inheritance and become master of all the paternal goods together; and then, having enjoyed them for the whole of his life, when he was dying, he was about to leave Marcellus as the heir of all his wealth. Yet he not only did not consider what had been left to him as his own, but he did not even deem it fit to use it for the common needs of the monastery. Hence it was that when the monks asked him to buy a field, he said that he knew of no field more fertile or productive than hope in Christ. What, then, did he decide regarding the paternal wealth, and how did he manage things according to that decision? He spent it by conveying it to other charitable houses ^B that were in need and destitute, as many as there were of both men and women. And in this way he relieved their poverty.

XXXI. As for what he did during the great manifestation of divine wrath, in which the whole city—the city of Constantine, I mean—was saved, who would tolerate letting it pass in silence? Or who is so dull as to be unwilling to hear of it? While Leo the Great occupied the imperial scepter, a fire occurred in this city—the greatest and most grievous fire ever remembered. When the report of the calamity had already begun, the great man became aware of it and, looking straight to heaven and weeping much, he divided the punishment, or rather, he lightened the greater part of it. For his tears extinguished part of the fire, while the rest was left to the Byzantines for their instruction; for it had been expected that it would consume the whole city. Having stopped one part and foreseen the other—"Alas!" he said with a pained voice. For he was pained that he had not caused it all to cease, as great as was the multitude of our sins; and it seemed good to God for the fire to creep from sea to sea, and like a dart to cut through the middle, while sparing those on the flanks, which is exactly what happened. The fire, having taken its beginning from the place called the Neorion, encompassed the whole city like a belt, and ceased at the sea that is opposite, as if showing that, while it had moved through the entire city, it had been brought to that point by Marcellus.

XXXII. Having mentioned two or three more such things, we shall leave the rest to be told by the tongues of others, as they are able. And first, how was his spirit disposed? Toward the powerful he was unyielding, but toward the modest and moderate he was most yielding, and he was an invincible ally and helper to the wronged. There is no need to speak of the power of Ardaburius and Aspar at that time, nor of their cruelty, which was equal to their power, or rather even greater. This powerful and cruel Ardaburius was angry at a certain

person from among those who were under his authority, by the name of John. But he, ^A having passed by all others, and even the emperor himself, as if they were not powerful enough, knew of only one refuge: the tabernacle of Marcellus. He betook himself to it and lay hidden beneath it, as if under some safe fortification. When he [Ardaburius] had found out, he asked, by sending a messenger to him, that the man be handed over to him. But since he was not persuaded, he began with threats. And since he cared nothing for these either, he applied force, and having sent soldiers who were both strong in might and many in number, he commanded them to seek out in this way the man who had fled for refuge, and, if he did not yield, to use their weapons. And he, having given these orders, sent them off. They went away, and having used words as they had been commanded, since he [Marcellus] would not be persuaded, they besieged the monastery, as if laying siege to a city. These things were done at eventide, and the great man asked them if they wished to remain, and told them that he would provide them with sustenance. Since, therefore, they did remain, he also provided them with food. And so matters went on until the evening. ^B But when night had fallen, those who were outside were already brandishing their swords in a terrifying manner. The monks, however, seeing and hearing these things, gathered around the saint and struck him with words instead of swords. "What then?" they said, "shall we all perish on account of one man? And that by a violent and bitter death? Shall a stranger be preferred to your own children? And shall the monastery perish from its foundations together with the holy place itself? Will you not send him away? Will you not quickly give up the one who is being sought, the one who came here with unfortunate feet?" While in this way, throughout the whole night, both his enemies and his friends were attacking him fiercely, and time was being wasted to no purpose, and the suppliant was not being handed over, it was decided by the soldiers, toward the dawn, to use their swords, and they were already about to attack. Then the athlete of Christ pitted his own power against them. And to their surprise, ^C an opposing force appeared to them; not, indeed, a phalanx, but some divine and heavenly power, encircled by fire, and bearing in its midst the unassailable weapon, the image of Christ's cross, which shone far more brightly than the fire that was all around it. This formidable power, therefore, having appeared from the very summit of the monastery, hurled heavy missiles against the soldiers: these were intolerable flashes of fire, against which, not only were they unable to make a stand, but they could not even look directly at them; they threw their swords to the ground, and they themselves fell, and lifted up voices to appease God, as each one was able. When those who were inside sensed this, they began to sing, and they too were witnesses of the miracle which had happened beyond all expectation. This also made the most cruel Ardaburius forget his own character, and was the cause that he appeared unexpectedly benign, his anger against John having been abated.

XXXIII. Since I have made mention of Ardaburius, ^D I will also call to mind how this divine man also foretold the future end of his life. When at one time he had given himself over to sleep after prayer, a vision presented itself to him. It was of this kind: A lion and a dragon were fighting against each other; but the dragon, being of the greatest size, with its tail...

^A was beating and tormenting the lion; the lion, indeed, was in pain, and was being roused to defend itself against the tail. It kept circling the dragon, fighting in the air, but inflicted no injury, until it, exhausted by the blows, lay on the ground, entirely weak and helpless. Then, after a short time, having recovered a little and having risen, as it were, from a certain sleep, it leaped upon the dragon with a great and violent impetus, and threw it prostrate upon its belly. When the divine Marcellus had seen this and had interpreted it most accurately, he prophesied not long after that Aspar and Ardaburius were to be destroyed, along with their entire family, by the emperor. But these things happened later; what was being done in the meantime is of this kind:

XXXIV. Since many things had happened between him and the emperor that nourished enmities and suspicions between them, hatred was born from both sides, and they were proceeding to grievous deeds. But since ^B a terrible danger was imminent from both sides, and victory was not easy for either of them, both turned to common agreements: namely, that the son of Aspar, and brother of Ardaburius, should be proclaimed Caesar, having married the daughter of the emperor. And he who receives this is someone else, as one might say, a sub-emperor; for he has purple robes interwoven with gold and other insignia of the empire, except only that he does not have the golden crown—[which is] the one thing that holds all the signs of the empire. Therefore, having received this dignity, he was to do everything in common while the emperor was alive, but when [the emperor] died, he was to be the first and only one to receive the rule, and, as if it were owed to him, he was to receive the scepters. This matter troubled the Church, and it disturbed it not a little, lest again ^C an Arian were about to invade the empire. For indeed, Aspar and his sons and his entire house were embracing the madness of Arius in a manner worthy of wonder. Being thus full of turmoil, they gathered together publicly, and with Geladius and Marcellus as leaders, they came into the Hippodrome to keep the emperor from this unseemly impulse—an emperor who was himself prompt and eager for this, but who was yielding to the times of Aspar and Ardaburius. ^D When, therefore, the army of Christ was thus prepared, God also showed them a leader; and [showed] that the difference between Marcellus and the other priests and high priests was as great as the difference between a general and an emperor, or, if you will, between a soldier and a general. This was the clear sign: for as they were walking, those who were worthy to see such things saw a youth, in stature the tallest, in beauty most comely, girded with a golden belt, in appearance so white that he seemed better than snow, and so radiant that he shone like light. His cloak and tunic were even whiter than snow. They saw this one walking on the left side with the great Marcellus, like some attendant, beautiful and at the same time terrible, holding out his hand as if to support the old man, and not ceasing to serve him with the greatest reverence. When they had entered

^A into the place where the emperor was accustomed to sit, Marcellus was, in this manner also, all things to those who were of the Church. Still, he himself also spoke with great boldness to the sovereign, and encouraged them, and as it were urged them on to the struggle for Christ. And when they had accomplished all for which they had come—which was that the son of Aspar should either learn the right faith, or else not receive the dignity of Caesar (for this the sovereign had promised them)—they went forth rejoicing. The young man again, that most lofty, handsome, and brilliant figure, was seen to be still present and conversing with Marcellus. But when he had escorted him as far as the gates, he vanished from sight for the rest of the time. No one who was present doubted, but it was evident to all that he was a minister of God, who, having assumed the form of a man, had been sent as a guardian and bodyguard to Marcellus. But this one had been honored ^B in a special way by him. Not long after, he received the end that he had predicted. For Ardaburius, along with his father and brother and not a few others of the same persuasion, having drunk the dregs of the anger of the Lord, were snatched away from among men, the dragon to the lion, the impious man justly delivered to the king.

XXXV. One thing still remains, in accordance with my promise, and when I have added this, I shall put an end to the discourse. A certain Lucian, son of Constans, a man who had great influence in the senate, having despised all human things and entered the monastery, in a short time, through Marcellus, left far behind many of those who had grown old in the practice of asceticism. It is said that he was never seen by anyone to be angry, nor to speak much, nor even to provide to another an occasion for anger. ^C When, therefore, the good father Marcellus was departing, he stood by, and weeping more than the others, begged that this final favor be granted him; and it was that he should not overlook him here alone, nor suffer him to survive for a long time; for he could no longer live well, just as a ship cannot sail safely that has lost its helmsman. And he said these things; but Marcellus, when he saw him affected with great sadness, said: "Be of good courage, for when I have departed, you also shall follow, and you shall arrive in the footsteps of him whom you desire." Having said this, a little later he received the fulfillment of what had been spoken. For since he bore the death very heavily, and for five days and nights in succession had remained by the tomb of the great Marcellus, considering it life to die on his behalf, ^D and considering it a bitter death to survive without him, the great Marcellus appears to him in his sleep as he was lying at the tomb, and says: "Why," he says, "do you grieve, and complain of delay, and disbelieve? I, having prayed to God for you, have arranged the matter as is profitable for you, and you shall come to me very soon." It happened so, and on the third day Lucian departed from this life, having survived the great man for only eight days in total.

XXXVI. How many such things are there of Marcellus—some greater, others not at all inferior? What tongues could suffice to tell them, and what books to receive those things which might be written, so many even beyond sixty

years of continuous ascetic labor did he perform his miracles? Who was more steadfast than he in struggles? Who was more beneficial toward labors? And to whom was he not more lenient toward those who stumbled, and more diligent regarding their healing? Who was such a defender to the wronged, while not permitting those who did wrong to commit injustice at all, but rather opposing them and not consenting to their wills? In his whole life, he gave almost the entire night, and most of the day, to songs, prayers, and the other ministries of God; he divided the remainder into these three: first, those troubled by anxieties would approach him, to whom he would provide the appropriate remedy for each, some from the divine Scripture, others from the understanding supplied by experience. After them, the wronged would approach. Having written on their behalf to magistrates, judges, and to the very ones committing the wrong, and if there was need, even to the Emperor himself—for he also was reverent toward him, and used to obey the great man in whatever he desired—then he would turn to the sick, and visiting everyone, he would bring both what was necessary for their sustenance and what was for the healing of the body. Thus, nothing at all was lacking in Marcellus that was present in those who are celebrated from of old. He possessed the grace of the prophets to foreknow all things, the faith of the patriarchs which made him confident in all things, the meekness of Moses, the zeal of Joshua and his righteous anger against those who treat men unjustly, the fervor of Peter among the disciples, the theological tongue of John and the thunder of his words combined with virginity, and the unquenchable zeal of Paul concerning the dogma, and the spread of his preaching by land and by sea. And at the same time, he was the source of miracles for all, and they flowed for them always, not unlike the perennial rivers. ^C

XXVII. If one were to speak only of his passing, how worthy of prayer would it be? How many enmities did he reconcile, how many disputes did he resolve, and how many good things did he perform, even while breathing his last, in a single day? Therefore, when the bonds of the flesh were being dissolved and he was about to draw near to the One he longed for, and to receive the first illuminations of the primordial Beauty, there were present with him many who exercised themselves in piety, many monks, and many of the clergy, and not a few of those conspicuous in the world for their wealth and glory. With these, after he had philosophized and spoken at length concerning the soul and body, and about the life hereafter, and had exhorted each one as befitted his age and dignity, ^D then, having also prayed—and finally having said that he wished to sleep a little and having prepared them to withdraw—in this way he released that holy soul. His pure and venerable body, having been wrapped by holy hands, shall be received by that holy temple which he himself founded from the foundations, and which he established as such a holy sanctuary, to the glory of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, now and for ever and ever. Amen.

MARTYRDOM OF SAINT ANYSIA OF THESSALONICA

(Latin, from Surius, for the 30th day of December; it does not exist in Greek in the Paris manuscripts.)

^A I. In the time of the tyrant Maximian, a certain maiden named Anysia, born of a noble family in Thessalonica, was raised by wealthy and faithful parents, educated in the fear of the Lord, advancing more in virtues than in age. And at first, her parents nourished her with the doctrines of piety more than with milk. But after she had passed girlhood, and the gravity and dignity of the maiden appeared greater than they had expected, they instructed her in more solid disciplines. She, however, being gifted with a good nature, easily grasped them, and brought forth fruits worthy of the action of her instruction; and since she plainly possessed a truly heavenly and angelic spirit, a signal beauty shone from her eyes. She remained at home for the most part. Concerning youth, she would very often complain, saying: “O treacherous age, which either harms or is harmed! Old age is a beautiful thing. Woe is me! The length of time affects me with sadness, separating me for so long from heavenly things.” And to speak once for all, she never ceased to call upon Christ for her aid, and, bending her knees, she would bathe the ground with tears.

^B ...nature, before they dominate us against nature; I will become truly mistress, managing them holily while at the same time declining the vices that arise from them, and devising the safest custody, storing them up as a treasure in the belly of widows, orphans, and beggars. A capable guarantor, the Lord of all, will not only increase the portion to double, but will add me interest a hundredfold with eternal life. Let us consume them piously, for we shall receive them safely. Having sold all, let us acquire the cross, let us follow Christ unencumbered, let us leave the earth behind immediately with the land, let us inhabit the heavens with the angels. Let us flee the dangerous life, and the one full of disgrace; and let us desire the contest that surpasses reason. With those things that do not suffer destruction, let us exchange those things into which destruction falls. Highly venerable is the marriage which in no way brings about corruption; let us remain pure, let us preserve the pure figure for Him who formed us, let us guard the seal of Christ alien to reproach. Let the Lord acknowledge the seals of virginity, let Him find the garden closed when He arrives. Let us offer the streams of the fountain undisturbed. Now that it is the marketplace, let us trade. Let persecution and affliction bring me glory. Let magistrates and punishments introduce us into the delights of paradise, and let custody and scourges bring us into the nuptial chamber of Christ. They are crowns not only for men, but also for women.

II. Meanwhile, when her parents had passed away, having received the inheritance, she considered how she might use the riches she possessed. For there were hoarded the greatest treasures of gold and silver, ample possessions, many flocks of cattle, a countless multitude of servants and handmaids, vestments sumptuous and magnificent, and woven of gold, and silk, a golden world, adorned with every kind of gem, resplendent in magnitude and beauty. Seeing these things, the most holy Anysia said: “How shall we be able to be saved amidst such earthly abundance? How shall we cast off the head of the dragon? Come, I will use his own invention against him. He strips himself every year and is renewed; let us then also strip off our various riches. For those riches punish those who use them badly; those who have accumulated them, they punish with an incurable madness; but they entangle the stingy and the ungenerous in their snares and nets. The possession of fields suggests indignation, and the treacherous exaction of taxes, bringing forth false balances and false weights. Vestments teach one to behave improperly and wickedly, and to be dissolved and dissipated in luxuries. Necklaces and ornaments make the neck erect itself proudly, and induce one to desire to be seen and drawn by praises. Come therefore, let us use pious things piously, as the blessed Matthew directed. Let us obtain dominion over them according to...

^C III. And saying these things, she prayed with tears: “Lord, Jesus Christ, true light, fountain of immortality, root of incorruption, You who conceived the mystery of virginity in the womb, and kept the name of Mother unstained by any blemish, good Lord, grant that I may not leave the choir of virgins, that I may not be excluded from the chamber, but refer me into the number of the prudent virgins, and deem me worthy, Lord, to be glorified by carrying a lamp, having overcome the contests which cannot be defiled.” When the most holy Anysia had said these things, she immediately sold everything, not for as much as each thing was worth, nor exquisitely examining them as is wont to happen in contracts; but she only said this to the buyer: “It belongs to the beggars and the needy; give a just price, so that at the same time you may offer yourself some reward in buying, and be a just master of the result.” She said this, however, not because she wished to receive a multiplied price, but having in this also the zeal of piety, and to him who was buying, mer- ^D

^Acifully counseling him. For she did not care so much for the sale, as she cared that he should rightly and through virtue possess nothing. And when she had reduced everything into gold, she would give it away of her own accord, not only offering this, but also applying other services, entering into every guardroom, and consoling anyone who had been condemned and was in chains, healing with infusions and anointings the weals of the one who had been tortured, visiting every sick person and the one lying in bed; and caring for them: going about the crossroads and the alleys, and offering her hand to those who lay therein, she would say: “May my riches not be a delight to me, which are not even considered worthy of a drop of water in the time of judgment.” She apprehended not the labor of sowing, but the riches of the harvest, in vision. And when she had distributed everything even to the last penny, and had left nothing for herself, she kept herself in a certain small house, which had an upper story, working with her hands, and providing for herself the sustenance she needed, according to the opinion of the blessed apostle Paul, who said: “But the idle man shall not eat.” For truly, for a Christian, it is genuine, and what cannot be hindered, that the food should be the labor of one's own hands.

IV. When she had said these things, she subsequently gave herself to prayers and oration, producing a fast as though she were in a way devoid of flesh. Then, accustoming herself to the most powerful exercise, she would consume the day indeed in readings, but the night in psalms and prayers; for a bed she used the floor, for a blanket, a mat and a haircloth; content with very little sleep, free from fantasy and dreams. For she would say: “It is an evil thing for me to sleep, when my enemy is awake.” She shed more tears, however, than the drink she drank; and her groans and sighs were more numerous than her words. She was bound, moreover, by such a longing for the Lord, that she imagined, while she bent her knee and fixed her eyes on the naked ground, that she was holding the feet of the Savior; and bringing her lips to her knees, she would kiss his knees, and spreading her hair, she would shake off the dust that was on them. The thought of these things moved fountains of tears for her. By such zeal she contended toward Christ, that she wished to be released, and to be with the Lord. But since she did not wish to kill herself, and again hastened toward heavenly things, what does she do? She consumed her body little by little by fasting, stealing much from life by abstinence.

V. Moreover, striking her breast with her hand, she prayed, saying: “Lord God Almighty, Father of Thy only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord and God and Savior, who sittest upon the throne of glory, to whom assist a thousand thousands of ministering angels, and ten thousand times ten thousand serving Thy nod, Thrones, Dominions, Principalities, Powers: whom the Cherubim praise, and the Seraphim glorify, saying without end the thrice-holy hymn; who didst condemn to the depth of Tartarus the spirits who did not obey; who didst bind with chains the dragon who failed, who didst entangle him in his own net, who didst cast down his seat to the ground, ^B who didst exterminate him from celestial mysteries, who didst alienate him from the blessed life, who didst depress and cast down his insolent exaltation, who didst triumph over his pomp through the ignominy of the cross, who didst send to us from Thy holy womb the Word God, who is before the ages, and Savior of our souls, born of the Holy Spirit and the Virgin Mary: through whom Thou didst convert that which was wandering, and didst confirm that which was weak, and didst heal that which was contrite: I invoke Thee, I, Thy humble and sinful handmaid, with all my heart, Thou who knowest what were in the heart of each one: who didst ignite the fire that had been cast into the world by Thy only-begotten Son, and in my heart; who didst change into a lamp the spark of faith that is in me, which is toward Thee, of love; be present to me, unworthy as I am, and save me, since I desire Thee, and I seek Thee, and I follow Thee with all my strength. Lord, receive my prayer, which I offer to Thee with a contrite heart and an humble spirit, on account of which, O Lord Jesus Christ, Thou wast nailed to the cross, on account of which Thou wast beaten with blows, on account of which Thou didst drink vinegar and gall, and on the third day didst rise again, and ascendedst into the heavens, and didst sit at the right hand of the Father. Do not disgrace me, do not cast me away from the number of Thy handmaids, but deign that I become a perfect Christian, and be perfected in the seal of Thy holy cross; impart to me Thy passion, working Thy will in me, so that I may be rendered worthy to appear before Thy tribunal. Do Thou preserve me ^C Thine: pierce my flesh with Thy fear, for I have feared Thy judgments. Turn away my eyes from seeing vanity, but rather open them, I beseech Thee, and I will consider the wonders from Thy law. I have been cast upon Thee from my mother's womb. Thou art my God; my father and my mother have forsaken me. Thou hast taken me up, O Lord. Direct my steps, so that I, Thy handmaid, be not put to shame: but do with me a sign for good, and fulfill my desire: for all my desire is before Thee, and my groaning is not hidden from Thee. Help me, and let not a stain be found in Thy handmaid. For I offer myself to Thee through the altar of the confession of my humility, as in the holocausts of rams and bulls, namely of those who previously contended for Thy name, and in the ten thousand fat lambs, who have followed Thy immaculate lamb: through whom to Thee, and with whom to Thee, with the Holy Spirit, be glory and honor and power for ever and ever. Amen.

VI. After she had prayed, she arose, and signed her whole body with the cross. Seeing this, the spotted dragon did not endure the angelic and celestial life of the maiden, seeing her now living in the spirit in the heavens, and inflamed with her whole soul for the passion of martyrdom; but he gnashed his teeth at her, and continually thought of moving her cell, and raged to overthrow her; but seeing her fortified on all sides by the sign of the cross, he was struck by blows which did not fall under the gaze, ^D

^A and it cast upon her the ailment of lethargy and sloth. She, however, through intense and perpetual prayer, just as if within the barriers of a wrestling school, immediately shattered his snares. But the enemy of truth again said, "Woe is me, wretched one! I who dragged the angels down from on high and subjected giants, am now mocked by boys and girls. For they rejoice in death as if it were life, and by it they are crowned as they run toward the heavens, and for the rest they have made the world uninhabitable for me. The blood of the martyrs, who were put to death, used to console me, but the faith of those who contend, and the preaching of those things that are done, have transformed entire cities and nations. Temples are torn down, oracles fall silent, mysteries are abolished, the mystagogues grow cold, and those who previously exulted have, to my destruction as it seems, fixed the cross. My soul already presages the future, that my kingdom will be utterly dissolved. For those who are cheerful in torments, and terrible in the sepulchers, they burn, they lash, and they persecute me from every side; and what I had thought of to be an addition of greater punishment has escaped me. Yet I have found what I shall do." Immediately, therefore, he plots such a thing against her, thinking that by his envy and malice he would obscure the glory of her who was being exalted: so that, when the people who were killing her were base and abject, it might also seem to make her struggle base and abject, and because things were not committed to writing, nor lacked the form of a legal judgment, the trophies of praise might be obliterated. The wicked one did not understand that before God a good purpose is worth more than words, and therefore he incites against her those who then held power.

VII. Maximian, therefore, when he had killed a great multitude, sated with putting them to death by his own hand—and, not otherwise than wild beasts that devour men, nauseated and dizzy from the multitude of corpses—made a show of sparing them, saying that Christians were unworthy to be killed before the eyes of the emperor. "Why," he said, "should I provide an occasion so that their punishments be committed to writing, and provide writers who transmit them to perpetual memory, and lead those who labor under the same disease to the same faith? Why not, like cattle, hand them over to those who ought to kill them, at once exterminating the wicked and enemies of the gods, and bringing it about that the memory of their death be consigned to silence?" When he had said these things, he proposed edicts which commanded that it be lawful for anyone who wished to kill any Christian without danger. Thus, ^B innumerable people were killed, and the prophetic saying was fulfilled, which says, "Because for your sake we are put to death all the day long; we were counted as sheep for the slaughter." Then, however, the thought came into the mind of Anysia to go to the Lord. And that was an angel who was calling her to the passion of martyrdom.

VIII. And as she was entering the Casandriot gate, a tumult was stirred up among the people. Then, when one of the emperor’s guards saw her, and was wounded by her beauty—or rather, incited by the devil himself—he confronted her and said, "Stop, and tell me where you are going." She, however, seeing his insolence and lack of restraint, and considering the temptation in her mind, made the sign of the cross on her forehead with her finger. But he, truly a wild beast, and fiercer than any wild beast, did not revere her noble and virtuous silence, but, thinking himself treated with insult and contempt, when he had seized her, asked her with a harsh voice and more agrammatically, who she was and whither she was going. But the lamb of Christ, wishing not to avoid the usual sight, desired to overcome him with a brief response: "I am a handmaid of Christ, and I am going to the Lord." But he, insolent and impelled by the demon that dwelt within him, said, "But I will not allow you to go there, but will lead you away to sacrifice to the gods. For we worship the sun today." And saying this at the same time, he pulled at her veil, wanting to reveal her face. But she, resisting nobly and bravely, and looking into his face, said, "Christ Jesus will rebuke you, devil." He, however, moved to anger by that rebuff and the name of Christ—an anger that could not be contained—drew his sword, which he was carrying, and ran it through her side. She, immediately falling to the ground with the trembling and quivering of her limbs, rendered it purple with her holy blood. But all who stood by, surrounding her, at first lamented her, pitying her age and considering that such a thing could happen. Then they murmured among themselves, criticizing the emperor and his impious decree. But as for her venerable and holy relics, those who were zealous for these matters—pious Christian men, and those who were incited by zeal for the saints—when they had taken them up and performed the rites for them as was fitting, they buried them about two stadia from the Casandriot gate, on the left side of the public road, building a house of prayer for her.

She, therefore, endured these things under the reign of Maximian, but under the reign of our Lord Jesus Christ, who reigns over us into infinite ages; with whom, to the Father and the Holy Spirit, be honor and power, now and always, and for ages of ages. Amen.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF THE HOLY MELANIA THE ROMAN

^A It was, then, also part of the glory of Rome, that most ancient and illustrious of cities, not to plume itself only on its beauty, nor to boast of its site, nor to glory in its trophies and all other such things, but much more to take pride in those who had shown themselves valiant for Christ, both men and women—and these the more so, in that they struggled as manfully as men, and set themselves as an example of life and virtue to others. Among them is one, the blessed Melania, whom this discourse has now taken as its subject, and is set upon telling of her deeds from the beginning. For it was the most celebrated and famous Rome that brought her forth, and her lineage, too, was most distinguished. For her parents were among the first of the Roman senate. She was born good from good; for they, too, were pious and lovers of virtue.

^B Now, when she had reached the age for marriage, the desire for temperance overcame the impulse belonging to her years, and she asked her parents never to bring her into the company of a husband, but, as they had granted her life, so to grant her also to remain a virgin. But they, tossing on the waves of this life for her sake alone, and hoping to have an heir of their lineage from her, gave her in marriage while she was already in her fourteenth year, though she was unwilling. ^C The bridegroom, too, was matched with Melania in lineage, age, and in all other respects, being born of consuls and just passing out of his youth. The bridegroom’s name was Pinianus, and he was aged about seventeen years. When the marriage had thus been celebrated for them, the admirable Melania, even after the wedding, loved temperance yet more vehemently, and the love of chastity, burning within her, did not cease to inflame her more keenly. ^D She exhorted her husband to this with many words, and when words were not enough, tears also gave their aid to her persuasion, as she said: "If indeed, my dearest husband, these same things seem good to you, and we both shall live according to the law of temperance, blessed shall we be in this marriage, both saved through one another, and becoming the occasion to one another of the most beautiful path. But if the youth of your age..."

and a disposition prone to pleasures does not allow you to endure this, at least allow me, and do not forbid my undertaking. The price for my body and my freedom shall be all possessions, all wealth, all servants, clothing, houses, and whatever else is mine. To all these I yield for your sake, provided only that I may redeem myself. He, however, neither granting everything, nor rejecting the entirety of her wish, said: "For the present, O wife, these things are not possible; but after we have obtained a successor to our lineage and wealth, I will not be wanting to your good intent. For it would be grievous if a husband were seen to yield to his wife in holy desire. But then, both of us choosing this path, not otherwise than in marriage, so too in the life to be lived according to God, we shall agree with one another." ^A

III. Both acquiesce to what had been said. As time proceeds, a female child is born to them. As soon as she beheld the light, she was consecrated to the Sun of chastity, Melania offering her as first-fruits to the Lord who had given her: so that, even while having the custom of marriage, she might appear to attribute much to virginity. Thenceforth, constraining herself, she lived moderately and temperately. She wore no splendid clothing, nor did she cherish her body with baths; and if at any time she was forced by her husband or parents, she would indeed go to the bath, but when she had washed only her face in the water, so as to satisfy the will of those urging her, she would not permit the rest of her body to be warmed by the hot water; and so that she might remain hidden, she would buy [secrecy], having persuaded her maids with gold. ^B But when she had done many things to persuade her husband to be of the same resolve, and saw that he would not be persuaded, but even desired to become a father to other children, she thought of flight, and resolved to leave behind her husband, father, and even her own wealth. But when certain good men, lovers of virtue, becoming aware of this, restrained her, saying that Apostolic saying, "For what do you know, O wife, whether you shall save your husband?" ^C she remained, though bearing with difficulty the necessity by which she was held; yet she perpetually wore a hair-cloth under her sumptuous and splendid clothing, as a prelude to her exercise, when she was not having relations with her husband. But while she eluded the eyes of all, she could not remain hidden from her own aunt. But she, having discovered it, rebuked her and mocked the garment. She, however, taking nothing ill of her harshness, bore this more heavily, that she could not remain hidden from all. Wherefore, with many tears and entreaties, she obtains that the matter be kept silent. ^D

IV. It was, however, her greatest vow to break with the world and to philosophize according to God, whence even when she was carrying in the womb, and her second birth was already approaching, the festival of the glorious martyr Laurence was being celebrated: she, however, spent the night sleepless, bending her knee, singing psalms

and striving to overcome both the birth-pangs and nature itself. The morning service had ended, but she did not cease from prayers; even so, by exerting herself, she endured more grievous pangs, and though it was with violence, she nonetheless gave birth. What was born (it was a male) was, as soon as it was born and sacredly regenerated by baptism, released from this world here and sent on to the world there. ^A Yet even after the birth, the pangs continued to rack her, and the sharp pain began to bring on death. When her husband, standing by, saw this terrible thing, he was so overwhelmed that he almost gave up the ghost; but gathering himself together, he ran to the altar, and circling around it, he shed tears from his eyes, uttered cries, and called upon the help from above to come as swiftly as possible. She, ^B however, thinking that this was the very moment that would put an end to her desire, sent a message to her husband, who was still attending at the holy place, declaring that both he and she would live, if oaths and covenants were made before God that both would lead their remaining lives in temperance, and would persevere not in living according to the world, but rather according to God. The husband yielded to his wife’s words and desires, and gave his word that he was persuaded. When she learned this, she immediately felt easier in body and lighter in soul, whether because the joy caused her infirmity to yield, or because the hand from above was aiding the goal she had set for herself.

V. ^C Since she had therefore seized the time and opportunity, she put aside the rest of the ornament of her body, deciding to live simply and artlessly, and turning herself entirely toward the inner adorning of the soul. In the meantime, the beautiful fruit of her virginity, the daughter who had been consecrated to God, left this life here and was translated to God, her Creator. Her death improved her husband, prompting him to think the same things and to follow the same path as Melania. Thus, both having ^D submitted themselves to the yoke of a life led according to God, they drew it eagerly, competing with one another in virtue. It was their concern, then, to be cut off entirely from the whole world and to dedicate themselves to God, choosing the life and habit of monks; but as their parents did not allow this, they plotted to escape by flight. But for the time being, the hand from above prevented this; yet a divine joy dispelled their sorrow. For as they were turning these things over in their minds, when night had fallen, a certain unspeakable and heavenly fragrance—such as could be grasped by no one—came upon them from above, diffusing an extraordinary breath of pleasure, and immediately pouring out into joy the soul that had been grieving and shrinking. Filled with such grace, they remained thus, having committed all the reins of their life to God, to lead them as He Himself leads and as He wills to be led. A little while later, therefore, when the Lord had so signified, Melania’s father departed; and when he who had been an obstacle was out of the way, just as it seemed good to God and the occasion called, they immediately went forth from the great city

bidding farewell to the urban multitude and its tumults; for the suburbs received them, being well-suited for philosophizing and advantageous for tranquility. As for their age, when they entered upon this angelic form of life, Apenianus was twenty-four years old, and she was in her twentieth year, a time when youth is most wont to rage. ^B

VI. She, for her part, exercising every caution, conducted herself very philosophically, and in all these matters she was no unpleasant helper to her husband. Indeed, if she saw the young man deviating from the precise and perfect form of life, she would wisely correct him and guide him toward piety. For nothing was of as much concern to her as to concern herself with nothing pertaining to the body; nay rather, by food and clothing and every method, she sought to extinguish the flame of youth. When she saw him still clinging to the adornment of apparel and the beauty of garments, she would not cease, in part by admonishing him and in part by gently mocking him, until she brought it about that he conducted himself philosophically even in these matters. And in every other way, Melania was a guide to piety for her spouse, being diametrically opposed in her disposition toward him to Eve. For the husband was taught by Melania to visit and look upon those who were sick, to provide them with medical treatment, to receive traveling strangers at their table, and to provide them with viaticum. Both of them did these things alike, and they went about as common saviors and benefactors to guard-houses, places assigned to exiles, prisons, and dungeons, setting free those who were detained on account of poverty, and comforting those who were held by some other misfortune, with deeds and words alike. As they proceeded on their way, they also began to sell the remainder of their property, making some of the needy rich, while reserving for themselves nothing other than having nothing and hoping in the Lord alone. ^C

VII. But he who always lies in wait for good deeds, and who from the beginning wages war against anyone who does anything good, would not allow them to rest, but brings against them a formidable engine, Apenianus’s brother, Severus, through whom he thought he would thoroughly undermine the tower of their determination. The discourse has already revealed that Apenianus was Melania’s husband. This Severus, therefore, with a wicked mind, belied his nature; and though he was a brother, he was an enemy in his actions. For when Apenianus had already been brought, along with Melania, to live a life according to God, Severus, having been inspired by a more frantic instinct of the demon, attempted to harass his brother, seizing his fields, carrying off his crops, insulting him in every way, and applying force. But when he saw that they preferred to lose everything rather than disregard the Lord’s commandment, which enjoins that one ought to endure the one who has done him an injury, then he attacked them with greater violence. For having craftily suborned from among Apenianus’s servants the most wicked of them and corrupted them, some with promises and others with money, he persuaded them to rise up against his brother and to abandon him—and not only these servants themselves, but also the fields in

which they dwelt, he would claim were Severus’s and would call them his own. Yet this foolish man was clearly attempting things that were empty. ^A For although they were suffering such things from one from whom no one would have expected it, they bore these things without pain, or rather, they even rejoiced in a way, for it did not seem to them a small thing to contend with Job in adversities and calamities; and the only thing that troubled those noble souls was that, as their wealth was stolen away, the stream of their beneficence flowed less, as though diverted into some other channel.

^B VIII. Nor did the most pious Empress Verina remain unaware of these things; rather, the fame of their philosophy had reached her long before, and she thought it worthy of her to behold them and hear them speak, and she summoned Melania with many entreaties. The occasion of the time then providing the opportunity, she called for her with great eagerness; and she went. But it is better to hear a few of the things that occurred before their meeting. It was a law established among the Romans that no man or woman should approach the Emperor or Empress with their head covered. She, caring nothing for this law, entered with her head covered, saying that the customs of tyrants must not be observed, but rather the law of Paul, who does not permit women to go with uncovered heads. Nor did she wish to change her attire or put off her rags, although many urged her not to do so.

^C IX. To them she said, "I have put on my garments; how shall I take them off?" Therefore, even when entering the palace, she did not even look at any of the things that others regarded with admiration, not deeming such things even worthy of a glance. But as she approached, together with Pinianus, the Empress immediately stood up and greeted her, and deemed her worthy of a seat very near her; for her attire and her strangely rustic appearance astonished her. And calling together those who were under her authority, she made Melania a subject of common wonder, saying, "O what a marvel I see now! Long ago, divine woman, I used to hear of you; but now I see you." And at the same time, rising from her golden throne, she embraced and kissed her, and said many times: "Blessed are you, who have justly attained to the blessedness of the Lord."

^D X. And when she promised that she would demand, by legal right, retribution from Severus for the injustices he had inflicted upon them, Melania said, "But for us, it is better to suffer injustice than to commit it; for it is a divine law not only to bear it when smitten, but also to turn the other cheek. As for you, many good things will follow from God on account of this good intention of yours. For us, it will be sufficient if the damage be halted here, and he adds no more; for, as far as we are concerned, we would not even make an issue of this, save that he is depriving those things which are allotted to guests and the needy. For these reasons, therefore, the Empress admired them all the more and, by her own...

^A fixed resolve, spared Severus; and she provided that they might sell all their possessions without hindrance through the brother and emperor, who at that time was governing the Roman scepters. These people were masters of many estates in many places, not only near the city, but also of many others in Italy, and not a few in Sicily, and by far more in Spain and Britain; all of which, on account of the Emperor's zeal, everyone readily purchased, paying the prices immediately and without delay. Thus, the noble pair, being admired by the Emperor for their magnanimity, and wishing Melania to greet the sister of the sovereign with certain honorable gifts. But she said that to receive anything of theirs was the same as committing sacrilege; for they were sacred and belonged to Christ. Having said this, ^B the blessed one dismissed Melania from her presence with a great retinue, with many distinguished eunuchs and chamberlains preceding her. And thus Melania and her husband went out from the palace, held in admiration by all and escorted with honor.

XI. When these noble people had begun to dispose of their possessions as they wished, not long after this time they had exhausted those great sums of money upon the poor. Nor was there any other, except the emperor, who could have vied with them in wealth; so great and almost incredible an amount of money, ^C they say twelve thousand pounds of gold, flowed in to them from their estates each year. And they distributed this entire amount to the paupers, and afterwards sold those very estates themselves. A proof of this wealth: no Roman was able to purchase their house, which was so splendid and magnificent, at a just price; but after it had later been burned by the barbarians, they sold it, having remitted much of the price, doing in this matter something greater, it seems to me, than Job. For to him poverty was involuntary; but they, of their own free will, became the poorest from being the wealthiest. And his wife did not endure what had happened with a great and brave soul; but Melania not only did gladly what pertained to herself, ^D but also made her husband a partaker of the same aim and purpose. It is quite evident that the right hand from above brought them aid, which both guarded them while standing, and if ever they were tripped, at once raised and strengthened them. She would often rouse them when they were slipping in their dreams and dispose them to be more secure regarding the future. And once they both seemed together in the beginning to be walking along a path that was very narrow and obstructed with trenches, which so afflicted them that they appeared to themselves to be crushed and broken; but after they had traversed this with much hardship, then relief and great spaciousness and a joy ineffable and very wonderful awaited them. Thus did God clearly make them to possess a certain confidence concerning the future, and that great goods would succeed small labors.

^A XII. Nor was the common enemy negligent, who, as the proverb says, was moving every rope; but according to his custom, he attacked in every way, yet he always retreated defeated. Once, a great mass of gold had been collected for those righteous ones, and it was poured out upon the floor. The house shone with the gold just like fire. This gold was destined to relieve the poverty and calamity of many. Then the malignant one began to use his craft; he brightened its appearance with the outward look of gold, he soothed and softened the spirit with its color, he suggested its great weight, he displayed its beauty; in every way he wished to steal from her the truly great treasure of reason, and he left nothing untried to make her become possessed by the love of gold. But in vain did the malignant one prepare his snares; for having cast a bridle, as it were, upon that passion, she opposed its color with those things which can neither be explained by words, nor grasped by the mind, nor destroyed by time, but which, as things here are by nature, are instead ageless and immortal for all eternity. That this caused her a great storm, as the noble woman indicated ^B a little later, that indeed it was.

XIII. There was, she says, a certain field which surpassed all others in amenity and beauty. In this very place there was also a bath, and by its craft it was so beautiful, and made of such excellent material, and so pleasant in its waters, that it would charm any soul even before one drank or bathed. Now, that which was most soothing about the bath was that one part of it had the sea, ^C and the other part had trees; and it was so constructed that, if you looked out from the seat, you could see from one side the waves of the sea—a most pleasant sight in a calm—and ships sailing, and the harbor, and the sailors; but from the other side, the beauties of the land, and the height of the trees, and the singing of birds, and flowing springs, and even hunters and the hunt, and, to speak simply, countless charms everywhere, and everything was full of grace and amenity. When this came repeatedly to my mind, it cannot be said ^D how it held my soul, and with the variety of this, the variegated demon tried to charm me and draw me to himself. But God immediately lifted up my soul, suggesting to me to ponder those things which He prepared for them that love Him, according to the divine Apostle (I Cor. II, 9), and to despise all these things as flowing away. But in this way the malignant one was defeated, with nothing at all left that could charm their souls and turn them to himself.

XIV. And as for what followed, what city was ignorant of it? What region? What nation is there that did not partake of their beneficence, which flowed like some great and pure river through all the earth and sea with a bounteous stream of their kindness? Mesopotamia, the cities of the Phoenicians, the land of the Syrians, and Egypt also received its outpouring, and from where the sun rises to where it sets, everything [shared] in their...

^A hand. There are some who say that they also purchased entire islands from the emperor, with him partly remitting the cost and they themselves partly paying, and that they gifted some of these to holy men, while they showed others adorned with choirs of virgins and a multitude of monks. Their precious clothing and brilliant silver were all dedicated as an ornament to the holy ministers. Having thus made good arrangements in Italy and left but little of their wealth, they sailed for Sicily, partly to sell the fields they had there, and partly to see the most holy bishop Paulinus, who happened to be their father in the spirit. When they had departed from the city, a divine wrath immediately overtook the prefect, who had looked upon their house and the remnants of their wealth with no noble eyes; for because of a shortage of bread, the multitude of the city, stirred up in the middle of the forum with anger and madness, made him the prize of their fury and violently put the wretch to death. And barbarians suddenly making an incursion, made everything before the city a "prey of the Mysians," so that from this it was manifest that it was not without God that they had previously managed to transfer their own possessions to a secure place and store them in heavenly granaries.

XV. ^B And when they were about to sail from Sicily straight to Libya and Carthage, a certain violent and savage wind overtook them and harassed them for many days, to the point that water failed those who were sailing; and there were many passengers on the ship. But as such great danger threatened them, it seemed that their voyage was not pleasing to God. Melania therefore orders them to turn the sail and yield to the blowing wind, wherever it might lead the ship. And so, having taken the wind by the stern, they land at a certain island. This had just been ravaged by a certain barbarian and piratical tribe that had invaded and plundered it. Many captives having been taken thence—men along with women, and children as well—the barbarians were signaling to the islanders that if they received enough gold to redeem them, they would return the captives themselves and spare the island; but if they did not receive it, they would burn the island and consign the captives to the sword. ^C To the islanders, what was being signaled was an impossible task.

XVI. But when the bishop learned that these righteous ones had arrived, he considered this a godsend, and coming down, he entreated them; and having obtained even more money than he had asked for, he liberated all the booty and rescued the island from the danger. But Melania and those with her, behaving more mercifully and kindly toward the captives, even gave them five hundred gold coins, and provided bread and the rest of the supplies they needed, doing this so that by the magnitude of the gifts they might forget their great calamities. Thereafter, having obtained a favorable wind and set sail from the island, they continued their voyage without any further trouble, and—

^A a wind blowing from behind quickly carried them to Carthage. When they had disembarked from the ship, they applied themselves to their usual work, dedicating their money and lands partly to sacred edifices, partly consecrating them to monasteries, and partly distributing them to the poor. Thus, unburdening themselves of the entire weight of riches, light and unencumbered, they proceeded toward true wealth, which is bought by the fact that nothing is possessed by those who piously store up treasure. The city, moreover, in which they resided, was called Tagaste, in which there was a sacred temple, and a priest skilled in speaking, and who could lead many to salvation through his discourse, by the name of Alypius; in whose company they meditated upon the sacred scriptures. And the temple in which Alypius served, ^B they adorned very munificently with golden ornaments, and lucid gems, and the plentiful yields of their lands. Two monasteries were also built by them, which had sufficient wealth and income; of which the one had a choir of men numbering eighty, and the other was set aside for virgins and amounted to the number of one hundred and thirty.

XVII. When Melania had thus beautifully arranged these matters, she remembered temperance once again. For the entire day the noble woman remained fasting. But when the sun was already setting, she would take a small amount of food, and that of a coarse kind; at times, she would even season her dish with a little oil. She did not use wine at all, but, taking a drink made from honey, which they are accustomed to call *conditum*, she would quench her thirst. ^C But time, which often blunts the zeal of many, made her own even sharper. At first, she took food every second day, then every third day, and then every seventh day, so that she took food only once in the week, and that was austere and tempered, and possessed nothing at all of those things which might bring pleasure. For hard bread was a certain slight dainty of her table, so that it made her fasting none the less laborious. That noble woman wrote so quickly and beautifully, and without error, that she never gave any opportunity for those expert in such things to find fault. She spent the greater part of the day in writing. But when her hand was tired, her eyes would run through most of the writings, ^D and commit most to her mind, so that she might store them in her memory. Moreover, when these were already weary, her ears served them, attending to what was pertinent to utility, and she applied her mind to the sermons of holy men. Besides these things, she also devoted a not insignificant part to prayer. For the whole night was almost entirely consumed in it, with only two hours allotted to sleep. Her bed, moreover, was a sack placed upon the bare ground. For she used to say that one must always keep watch, as the Lord’s voice says (Luc. XII, 39, 40), not knowing at what hour the thief comes. For this reason, she also prepared both herself and the virgins who were with her in this way to struggle and to render an account to Him. And, an idle word, and a character not steady, and unbridled laughter, and a mind altogether

^A castigated, nor did she allow any evil cloud at all to pass beneath the ether of her soul.

XVIII. And she was living her life so cautiously and so strictly, and was a rule for the others, so that they too might enter upon that life. And just as if the space of seven days did not suffice for her for fasting, she would also add the Lord’s day, forcing herself to draw out eight days in total, even if she were forbidden to do this by the head of the house—saying that it was absurd for the day of the Resurrection to be allotted to hardship just like the others. Whence, by speaking, she persuaded and brought it about that she was a partaker of a little oil as well, teaching that the apostolic ^B precept is to obey those in authority and to yield to them.

But as for her diligence in works, and her intense striving in reading from her own labors, and her sharp investigation of those things which had been read, and other things as well—who could ever be capable of describing them? For with her hands, as it has been said, she worked for writing, and she used what she gained from the writing for the feeding of the needy. And often, indeed, she would place a garment, fashioned by her own hands, into the hands of the poor—from the sacred, as they say, in a certain way into the sacred. And she was so studious of the sacred utterances that she would read through the entire divine Scripture—the Old and the New alike—three ^C times every year, and she always had its most beautiful parts upon her tongue. Her investigative nature in all things was indeed admirable; for never did a meaning or a word escape her, but she traced everything out most diligently and brought to light that which was hidden. And the excellence of her desire for learning extended her even to the works of more recent authors—I mean of good and studious men—and there was nothing at all of those things which had been written or were being written for profit that she did not possess and share with others.

She was also instructed in the Greek language so well that, when she spoke in it, no one of those who heard her believed that the Italian tongue was her native ^D one. But in all things there flourished in her a gentle, fine, and gracious mildness and mansuetude, especially when she was conversing, and her discourse stirred still more those who practiced philosophy. And an ineffable and uncontrollable love nourished her zeal for Christ. For this reason, she not only caused her mind to turn away from those who follow some maddened heresy, but she did not even allow their name to be heard by her ears or pronounced by her tongue; so much so that she would very aptly say that utterance of divine David: “I will not mention their names with my lips.”

XIX. But being fervent in spirit, according to Paul, she considered it grievous if she did not add many to the side of Christ herself and have lovers of temperance like herself. And by words, and partly by gifts, she drew many young men and many young women to the life of asceticism. And all the things which she also toward the Greeks

^A and Samaritans, and called them to the sound faith; and they, after a short time, leaving behind their own affairs, followed her. Thus, then, was this blessed woman a wise fisher, and she had learned to hunt the souls of men. ^B Undertaking yet greater labors, she also showed another strange, and almost incredible, endurance. Having prepared a certain wooden chest, of such height that it did not allow her to stand upright, and of such width that she could neither incline to the right nor to the left, she enclosed her body in it, through a small aperture conversing with those outside and hearing them. And when her mother came to her often (for she too had become her companion in the voyage and in the philosophy), she did not simply greet her, but if it happened that she was either praying or occupied with divine discourses, she would not look at her or share any word with her until she had brought to an end the spiritual work in which she was engaged. Thus, with everyone, and with her mother as well, she mastered nature; because of which her mother would depart having gained much profit, and rendering great thanks to God that she had brought forth from her womb such a fruit for Him. And what need is there to recount all her deeds? For it suffices, for the praise of her among all things, to mention the moderation of her disposition; because, living as purely as no other person did, she had a contrite and humble mind, such as no other among those who associate with many improper things possesses.

^C XX. Thus then, having contended there for seven years, a thought entered her mind of a longer pilgrimage; for she said that it behooved her not to be deprived of the holy places, but also to see Jerusalem, and to travel around all the things that are therein, and to worship at the miracles. And having decided thus, the sea received her, with her mother and Apenianus both present with her, ^D and having secured a swift voyage, Alexandria received them. This is a city of the Phoenicians, in which the great among priests, Cyril, held the archiepiscopal care. Having come to him, and to another prophetic man named Theodore, and having gained much from their conversation during their passing through, they again boarded the ship and hastened toward the holy places, bringing nothing with them except what was necessary and able to suffice for a few days, wishing to be themselves with those who beg. And when they disembarked from the ship, it happened that the blessed one fell into an illness; then, recovering from her infirmity, and having first offered the fruits of her health to the Lord’s sepulcher and having approached and worshiped it first, she thereafter feasted her soul on the sight of the other spectacles; and she conversed also with the most famous of the priests, and especially with those of them who were most wise in speaking, so that she might also reap the fruit of profit from them. And she was nourished by those same things as in Libya, and for as many days as she remained there, working with her hands, just as she did in Chalcedon. And as the evening

approached, she would go into the life-giving tomb of the Resurrection. When the temple was closed, she remained within, and her prayer was prolonged through the night until those who were there began to sing the morning hymns. But when the doxology had reached its end, then she, too, would give her body a little rest in sleep.

^B XXI. But since, as I have said, a few remnants of her possessions had been left behind in Rome, and one of the faithful had been entrusted with selling these to any who wished to buy them, after he had done this, he sent the gold to them in Jerusalem. They, using their accustomed generosity, made these things an inheritance for the needy. Having spent some time there, Melania saw that her mother was weighed down by old age and time, and she left her there, having asked that a tabernacle be prepared for her on the Mount of Olives. She herself then arrived in Egypt along with Pinianus, both desiring to see the holy men who were in that land, and also to share their own kindness with the poor who were there. So these two, having done what they came to do, were going around among the ascetics. Having stopped at one of the huts that sheltered a man who was great in philosophy, whose name was Ephaestion, they asked that he too might accept what they were giving to the others. When he refused, what did Melania not do, wishing to persuade the man to accept? But when she could not persuade him, the blessed woman immediately devised a scheme that most beautifully demonstrated the equal constancy of both: of Melania, in wanting to do good, and of him, in not being persuaded to accept anything of human worldly goods.

^C XXII. For she went around the little hut, ostensibly searching through the furniture that was in it, and seeing nothing but a mat and a small basket in which salt was stored, she placed a portion of gold beneath the salt and buried it; then, as if she had helped herself to nothing, she asked for his prayers with great earnestness, and having received them, she went out. But this ruse profited her nothing; for that holy man, having discovered it, ran after them with all his speed and stopped them from a distance with his voice. Then, shaking the gold in his hands, he showed it and said that he did not know what use he could have for it. When they said, "If not for you, at least it will be useful to some others," he replied, "Indeed, there will be no one here who will ask for it; for the place, as you see, is destitute and terribly desolate." And when they would not even then accept it, ^D the old man threw the gold into the river and departed. They say that they encountered not a few others of this kind, who were just as careful to avoid accepting gold from anyone's hand as they would have been to drink on their own the venom of a serpent or any other deadly and destructive thing. Having thus been filled with such miracles in Egypt, they returned again to Alexandria, and having once more been satisfied with the company of many good men who were there, they set out for the mountains; and thus they spoke of the...

mountains, which are called Nitria. Having met there also with men who were studious of virtue, who were inhabitants of that place, when, like bees, they had gathered every flower of virtue, they returned full of good things to Jerusalem. ^A For Melana, a tabernacle had been prepared on the Mount of Olives, just as it had been commanded for her mother. Having taken as a favorable beginning the day of the Lights, she shut herself into a small cell and laid upon herself a law: that she would neither see any of other people, nor be seen by any; yet, she would allow herself to be seen once every period of five days by her mother, and by him who had once been her partner in marriage but was then her partner in labor, and likewise she would not deny the sight of herself to her niece; for she had for a long time previously accepted her into her own discipline, and, being full of pride and a Roman spirit, she had led her into the utmost modesty, and thus ensured that she would lay hold of the highest things.

^B XXIII. They say that this most laborious life of Melana lasted for fourteen years. Then, when her mother had departed this life, she, having honored her with due rites and prepared her body, spent that year in another small cell, which lacked light and was in other respects similar to the former one, where she continued her mourning, her discipline, and her fasting. After this, when her fame had spread everywhere and many were flocking to her, a coenobium of more than ninety virgins was formed by her, in which not only virgins, but also many who had previously lived shamefully, bidding farewell to their former life and pleasures, made a truly beautiful transformation. ^C Laws were also imposed upon them: never to come to speech with a man, never to leave the monastery, and never to accept anything from those who are outside. She did not appoint herself as leader of the flock, but she herself performed among them the role of a handmaid; for by this means she persuaded them to endure it, so that at once her love for them might increase, and a nearby example of how to conduct themselves modestly might be present to them. She accepted as leader another who excelled in both character and speech over the rest; so that this woman, among those who obeyed her, held the rank of a mistress, but Melana, in her obedience, that of a handmaid, and in her benevolence, that of a mother. And if ever it happened that the burden of abstinence was laid more heavily upon the sisters by the superior—which was considered burdensome to the more delicate—the blessed Melana was sufficient to comfort them, for she would aptly and prudently soften what was harsh for them; and when at times they were afflicted by fasting, without any of them knowing, she would place under each one’s bed the things that were necessary for their use. ^D When she found them, she did not, indeed, fail to know whose work it was, but though she accepted the remedy, she in turn preserved a very great benevolence toward her. By thus wisely insinuating herself into their souls, she deservedly held them as she directed them.

XXIV. She said, moreover, that it was fitting not only for the body, but also for the soul to be kept chaste and pure from lustful thoughts; then, in the middle of the nights, no laziness in regard to prayer

^A should be shown, and when praying, one should not only move the lips, but much rather gather the thought from every side and fix the mind upon what is being said. For it is absurd to ask for good things from God, yet not to offer the petitions earnestly, and while demonstrating reverence in habits, manner, and in every way when standing before a mortal king, not to be much more fearful when approaching the terrible and immortal King, before the Lord’s authority and infinite excellence. Having discoursed upon these matters, she passed on to charity, the mother of all things, declaring that without it all things are vain and superfluous. Regarding this, she discoursed at length ^B, saying also that the evil one is able to imitate our other practices—such as fasting, as he claims, and vigil, and whatever pertains to the body—for he is naturally superior to all these things and would never be conquered by any of them. But he could have no share in humility and charity any more than darkness with light, or vice with virtue; for he, because of those things which are by nature most contrary, I mean pride and malice toward men, has become a wretch, darkness from light. But above all, she said that one must keep the true faith sound and pure, without any doubt, since one who has managed other things well but doubts in this—in the very head and most vital point of all—will have utterly failed.

XXV. ^C Seeing that many of the women around her made a great deal of fasting, and fearing that by thinking everything was contained in this, they might neglect other virtues, by proposing such images she stimulated their zeal. For she said that the soul is like a bride, and the virtues surrounding it are like bridal garments, each adorning some part of the body; and that fasting is an ornament for the feet. Just as it is proper, therefore, to possess things that adorn the feet along with other clothing, so too is it necessary for the soul to have fasting present along with the other virtues. If, however, anyone takes care only of this and neglects all other things, that soul is not unlike that maiden who, when being led to a wedding, has adorned only her feet and ^D left all the rest unadorned and naked.

Regarding obedience, and that one ought to obey authorities, she added this: that even in worldly life this is the thing that most maintains all things, showing the king to be king, and the subject to be the subject; and if you remove this, you have removed order itself, and along with the names, you have clearly confounded the realities as well. And she was not lacking in examples as she said this.

XXVI. At one time, a certain person approached a great elder, desiring to become his disciple. The elder, showing from the start what sort of person a disciple ought to be, commanded him to strike and kick with his heels, as much as he could, a statue standing nearby. When the young man obeyed, the elder asked if, when being struck...

the statue that was being kicked had contradicted him or felt vexed. ^A When he said that nothing of the sort had happened, he ordered him to strike it again, and in addition to the blows, to assail it with insults. When he had done the same three times, and the statue was nothing but inanimate and mute, the elder said: "If, indeed, you too can endure the same things and contradict nothing, just as this statue does not, while being constantly insulted, then come and enjoy our discipline; but if not, do not attempt to live with us." ^B She used to run through many such examples for the virgins, and simply, by passing through all the virtues and showing in each case how much the profit was and how much the loss would be if they were sluggish, she persuaded them to dare all labor. Then also, as was fitting, she built a temple for them, in which they might be able to perform the divine service, consecrating this with the relics of the saints—of the prophet Zechariah, I say, and of the first martyr Stephen, and indeed also of the forty martyrs of Christ.

^C XXVII. What does the account mean to signify by what follows? Apenianus, who had been her husband according to the flesh but had become a brother according to the spirit, having left the things below, migrates to the regions above. But she, thinking that her own end was also drawing near, made that an occasion for greater struggles, remaining within the temple and extending herself to fasting and all other laborious things, and this for four whole years. ^D Then she conceived the idea of building a monastery for men; but the lack of means for the expenditure prevented her eagerness. Yet since she thought and said that all things were possible through God, He Himself also resolved this lack of hers; and a certain man, who was abundant in wealth and money, bestowed upon her a massive weight of gold, by which indeed the work was completed for her, and the holy monastery was built, and she received men such as it was fitting should suit her way of life. When she had breathed a little from this labor, greater labors and a long journey awaited her. For letters arrived to her from her paternal uncle Volusianus, who was at that time acting as prefect of the city of the Romans, and had been sent as an ambassador to Byzantium to the Empress Eudocia. The letter indicated these things, and that he had long desired to see her. She, for her part, also desired to see her uncle and to persuade him to desist from the pagan opinion. However, she was doubtful in her mind, lest she might do something imprudent contrary to what was pleasing to God. But when she had communicated the matter to some other monks, and they permitted her to depart, the blessed Melania sets out from Jerusalem, and straightway, through every city and region she passed, she was accompanied with the honor and care that was fitting. For the priests and bishops of the cities did not offer her little honor.

and the venerable virgins and every one of the monks who were outstanding paid her reverence and greeted her, and looked upon her as if she had come from heaven. ^A

XXVIII. When she had arrived at Chalcedon and the very gulf of the sea, she feared to enter it, and seemed troubled. For as a woman who had lived in ascetic practice, having had the greatest care for quiet and silence, and not having tasted the tumults that are in a city, she was about to enter into the greatest of cities, and she naturally feared and shrank from it. She turned aside, therefore, to where the temple of the all-praised martyr Euphemia was. About the middle of the night, the martyr shed not a little of the sweetest fragrance from herself and filled her with ineffable pleasure. ^B Wherefore, having conceived a bold confidence, at the first light of day she crossed the strait and entered Byzantium. She was received in hospitality by a certain illustrious and otherwise good man named Lausus, who had attained to the honor of the praepositus. She also found her uncle Volusianus oppressed by a grievous illness, who, marveling at her habit and astonished at the incredible and unexpected change in her appearance and dress—for her face was indeed much emaciated by asceticism—cried out in a great voice: "O what do I see you have become, my dearest Melania, and from what state!" Taking the opportunity from his words, she said: "Then learn from me as well, O blessed uncle, and receive a sign of the good things to come, for I would not have held such glory, nor money, in such contempt, nor would I have abandoned care for this body itself, had I not been convinced that I was very soon to receive things far greater than these." The blessed one stole into the man’s mind gradually, not by herself alone but also through many others, and she was eager to undermine his false religion, just as she did also through the most wise Proclus, who at that time was entrusted with the sacred helm of the Church of Constantinople, whom Melania is said to have so steered toward piety by her counsels when she came to him, that after he recognized the truth he famously said that if Rome had three such people, the name of the Gentiles would never even be heard there. But these things belong to later. ^C

XXIX. After Volusianus perceived that Melania wished to urge the emperor also toward this, fearing immediately that his baptism might be thought forced rather than voluntary, and that he himself might be deprived of the reward he would receive from it, he restrained her from her endeavor; and, as we shall say shortly, he fulfilled the matter by himself, and having abjured the opinion of the Gentiles, he was translated to Christ. She, however, did not neglect the care of others either. But when the blasphemy of Nestorius had arisen at that time, and the evil one was leading many even of those who were in the word of truth into error, she was the one who entered into a great struggle against him, rendered his sophistry empty and vain, and from dawn until evening answering those who questioned her, she persuaded and brought back many of those who had been deceived. ^D When the evil one could not bear his defeat, having transformed himself into a man

and appearing miserable in a dark and mournful garment, stands before her, frightening her and threatening the most grievous things. First, he threatened to change the heart of the emperor himself and of his attendants, and to turn them to the contrary; then, that he would cause her to end her life in a pitiable state, worn down by most grievous pains. But she, perceiving that these things were but tricks of the malignant one, invoked the name of Christ, which inflicts the most grievous wound upon him, and caused him to vanish immediately. ^A Then, when she had called for the priest who was with her and had begun to recount what she had seen and heard, she suddenly felt a pain in her hip, and one so sharp that she was instantly rendered speechless, and no one could have any doubt at all that this was an overt assault by the enemy. Thus, after the pain had lasted for six days, and she was experiencing the assault of the evil one at the very hour when she had seen the dark one and heard his threats (for the seventh day was at hand and her end was expected), someone arrives to announce to her that her uncle was in danger of soon ending his life by a sudden death.

XXX. When she heard this, although she could hardly move on account of the pain in her hip, she was immediately carried by hand and in a litter to him. ^B For she was deeply distressed, not that he was dying, but that he was undergoing the death of the soul, not yet having been accounted worthy of the incorruption of baptism. Then another person arrives, informing her that the man had been baptized, and that, having sought her out many times and not found her, he had learned that she was detained by illness; then, having found another guide, he became a son of light through them and was accounted worthy of baptism. ^C When these things were told to her, along with the pain of her soul, the disease of her body also immediately ceased. Her loin was free of pain; her foot moved, and the common enemy was covered in shame, so that for the rest of the journey she went on her own power, and those who were carrying her, instead of bearing her, immediately stretched out their hands to praise God. Then, having arrived at her uncle's house and confirmed him with words, and discoursed about the life that is there, she sends him off to the journey that leads to God, joyful and endowed with good hope, having prepared him with the most beautiful provisions, namely the precious body and blood of Christ, and thus she caused him to depart securely. ^D And these things were accomplished in this manner. She, having spent not many days here, yet in a few having been of great profit to many, and above all to those around the empress and the emperor himself (for this was Theodosius), since they had need of greater healing, inasmuch as their souls were puffed up by the glory of the world.

XXXI. When she had done these things beautifully and piously, she departs from the city; for she was held by a great love of silence and quiet, and the sacred places were coming into her mind. It so happened at that time that much snow had fallen and a cold had arisen, unconquerable and difficult to endure. She, however, both in [...]

^A her struggle to be superior to all things at once, and leaping through the snowflakes as if they were flowers, completed the way, further increasing the labors of her asceticism. When many holy persons met her on the way or in hospitality, and begged her to remain, she would not be persuaded; but she followed an unyielding pace, hastening to celebrate the feast of the saving passion in Jerusalem, which indeed turned out according to her intention. Having thus celebrated the feast there together with them, she again occupied herself with her former routines, caring no less for herself than for the flocks of ^B both. And since she also set her mind to build another oratory in the place where it is said that our Lord and God stood, being about to ascend the cross and undergo the saving passion (for God was also cooperating with her in her purpose), she built the oratory. Then she also made it a place of spiritual exercise, gathering holy men into it for the glorifying and praising of God. While these things were being done, the Empress Eudocia had reached Antioch; for she had obeyed the exhortations of Melania regarding the time she had come to Byzantium, and was persuaded to cherish this pilgrimage and to arrive at Jerusalem, both to visit the holy places and to partake of the sanctification from them. Running, therefore, to meet her, she was ^C held in great honor by the Empress, who placed her in the position of a mother and confessed that she owed a twofold debt of thanks to Providence: that she was deemed worthy to see the renowned Jerusalem and the holy places, and that she had become the daughter of such a mother in the spirit. A sign of the Empress’s great love for Melania was that she did not hesitate to undertake such a journey or to pass into her flock, and to greet and embrace the virgins there as if they were her sisters; and she was present and celebrated along with them on the day of the dedication of the new church.

^D XXXII. And there followed this good event something worthy of the malice of the evil one and of the power of the good God. For the foot of the Empress, which had been dislocated from its joint by the assault of a demon, she restored to its place, fitting and straight, without pain by prayer alone. The great Empress, having enjoyed not a few such benefits and others from this great woman, and at the same time having been filled with the sight of the holy things, decided to return to Constantinople. Melania, having given her prayers as good traveling companions, sent her on her way; while she herself persisted in labors of spiritual striving equal to or even greater than before. And the river of miracles from God also flowed for her, of which I think it not superfluous to mention a few, as if blending some seasoning into the narrative. A certain woman, young in age, was possessed by a demon. With her teeth closed and her lips shut, she not only could not utter a voice, but did not partake of any food at all. Famine, having severely wasted her internal organs and flesh, threatened death shortly after. When physicians tried to overcome the evil with laborious medications and the remedies of their art, afterward

^A proving that all things were futile and amounted to nothing, those who concerned themselves with her looked toward one single help: the prayer of the great Melana. They bring her in, lifting her with their hands, shedding tears from their eyes and uttering words more pitiable than their tears. She, however (for she avoided the glory of men as something that brought great harm, and she knew how to be humble), said, "These things are impossible for me, but the martyrs of Christ have the power to perform many such things, and things even greater than these." Having said this, she ordered that the woman possessed by a demon be brought into the temple. Having taken some oil of the saints and touched the mouth of the suffering woman, she brought forth a clear voice, saying, "In the name of Jesus Christ, open your mouth." Immediately a voice followed the voice—the voice of the sufferer followed the voice of the saint—and her tongue was stirred to give thanks, the demon was gone, the food was present at the same time, and through her the divine name was glorified.

^B XXXIII. Another woman, being pregnant, encountered a birth more bitter than death. For when she was in the process of giving birth, the fetus within, not yet having come forth, died, and the mother's womb was a tomb for the child; consequently, the woman's calamity reached even the ears of Melana. She, having become exceedingly pained and having suffered in her heart equally with the one undergoing the trial, reaches the house where the woman was enduring the danger as quickly as possible, and she prepared the great medicine: prayer. The suffering woman, barely moving her lips, could not speak, but by her demeanor and her eyes, looking in a pitiable and sorrowful way, she seemed to be saying, "Have mercy." What, then, did the great woman do? Having lifted her eyes to heaven and loosened her own girdle, she immediately placed it upon the one who was almost dead; then, having said, "This girdle was a gift to me from a great man, and whoever obtains it will not be deprived of healing," the woman immediately cast out the dead child and gave birth, and she who had been lying there was at once delivered from all pain. ^C Such were the wonders the blessed one performed, even through her girdle, and she attributed these graces of miracles to others. How many such things occurred there, of which it is not permitted for me to touch upon now, as I see that the discourse is long, and my spirit is already weary because of the multitude of those things which have been said! But from those things that have been said, it is easy for you to conjecture the rest, just as having known the whole from a small taste; for, as one might say, the remainder comes from the same jar. It is necessary, therefore, to go on to her passing, having added a few things to the narrative first.

XXXIV. For since the end was at hand, and this was foreknown to Melana, like some athlete who, having come closer to the crown, hurried all the more, and rejoiced that it was already present, she went around the other places of Jerusalem, and Bethlehem itself, and Galilee, and all the surrounding areas, and, going about in a circle, she greeted them as if they were living beings during her pilgrimage. ^D When the day of the Savior’s nativity had arrived, she ran to the manger and the cave, and said to her cousin that she would no longer celebrate the feast with them. When

^A she had kept vigil there for the whole night in the cave, on the following day she arrived at the sanctuary of the First Martyr; and having spent the night there as well, she took the book in her hands and read to them the passion of the First Martyr. Then, having added that they would no longer hear her reading, for she saw that they took those words heavily (for they perceived what she meant by saying these things), she immediately took up the discourse again and comforted their hearts with spiritual words: “I, indeed, dearest ones,” she said, “am already departing from you, as it seems good to God; but you, at least, live under the eyes of God, who both searches the thoughts and sees the hearts. Keeping Him, therefore, always before your sight, according to the Prophet, ^B keep both your souls in purity and your bodies themselves undefiled from every stain; and if sadness should pierce your hearts on account of my absence, if you bring Him to mind, you will immediately find sufficient consolation.”

XXXV. Having said this, she enters the temple, and when she had stood to pray, she said, “Lord God, whom I chose from the beginning, whom I preferred to marriage, wealth, glory, and pleasures, to whom I committed my body and spirit from my birth, by whose fear my bone has always clung to my flesh, who have held my right hand and guided me in your counsel, do you also now hearken to my voice; and may these tears move the streams of your mercy, and purge the defilements of my sins, both voluntary and involuntary; provide for me a path to you without any disturbance and without any hindrance. Let not the evil demons of this air detain me. You know, O Immortal One, what is mortal; you know, O Lover of mankind, the ways of men, that no one is spotless, no one is ^C unassailable by the grasp of the adversary, not even if one’s life were measured at a single day. But do you, overlooking all my failings, set me pure before your judgment seat.” While she was praying in this way with tears, and had not yet ceased to pray, a trembling took hold of her body; and she began to be ill, yet she did not cease from laboring. But although she was so affected, she would go to the customary chants and would join in singing the morning hymns; and having discoursed much concerning the soul and salvation, and having addressed her flock and urged them toward virtue, when these things were finished and she felt herself as though failing, and saw that the nuns who cared for her were taking her departure from them very heavily, she comforted them with many words, saying that they ought not to mourn and grieve in such a way, and, a sign of her migration having now been given from above, she partakes of the divine mysteries of Christ.

XXXVI. Now, when the bishop of Eleutheropolis ^D had arrived with all the clergy, having conversed much with him also and having given many instructions concerning her flocks, and since many others also had flowed together (for except