Month of December

comes. After this the emperor, having sent for what had been requested, ordered three temples to be built: two, indeed, which the saint had desired, and a third according to the will of the archdeacon Theodulus, likewise consecrated to the Wisdom of God. ^A When these temples had been constructed, the holy Amphilochius summoned Basil the Great to inaugurate those newly built temples. He, although he was then seized by illness, yet, proving stronger than it, arrived and consecrated the temples, and there was spiritual joy and a hovering of the Holy Spirit. Two years having passed after this, the Trinity called the great Basil to the temple not made by hands. After the holy Amphilochius had consigned his sacred body to the earth, he returned home and performed the office of teaching just as he was accustomed to do before. Finally, three years after the death of the great Basil, he also departed to the Lord, to receive the reward of his long struggles. ^B

IX. The city, however, as is wont to happen in a public calamity, being gathered together, did not easily endure the passing of its pastor, but, seized by grief, was poured out in wailings and tears, insomuch that all wished they had breathed their last along with their pastor. When, therefore, they had honorably buried that truly venerable body and shed many tears, they could scarcely be brought to leave the tomb. Many miracles were performed there by God, who knows how to glorify those who glorify Him; to Whom is due all glory, honor, and adoration, with the only-begotten Son and the most holy Spirit, unto the ages. Amen. ^C

MONTH OF DECEMBER.

LIFE AND CONDUCT OF OUR HOLY FATHER DANIEL THE STYLITE.

(Latin in Surius for the 11th of December, Greek from ms. cod. 1559, 14th century.)

I. Just as it happens with brave men, that when someone talks about wars and struggles and trophies, ^D

and they hear more words upon these subjects, their desire increases the more, and they immediately wish to undertake such deeds, so likewise with the lovers of virtue: if anyone sets before them lives that are practiced in monastic exercise and that pass through every virtue that reconciles one to God, they are at once inflamed, and they desire the same things, and generally they are disposed in a way appropriate to what is said, and they prepare themselves for imitation. ^A For how is the life of this admirable Daniel not alone most sufficient to inflame a soul that loves virtue toward greater zeal, and altogether to move and soothe it, and to bring the pleasure of the exercise of the most sweet labors, which has no satiety? For in what it is more admirable, in that it is also more useful; and if anyone wishes to emulate it, he will find in a small thing much virtue, and that which can be compared with few things.

II. ^B To this blessed man, then, the fatherland was that which lies between the Euphrates and the Tigris, and it is and is called Mesopotamia. He was born in a certain village, a neighbor to the city of Samosata; the local language calls it Maratha. To him the father was Eliu, and the mother Martha; the manner of conception was this. The mother’s womb was terribly maimed and disabled, and she was sterile with regard to the procreation of children. Since, therefore, her husband, acquaintances, kinsfolk, and all others reproached her every day with a thousand insults and bitterly cast her lack of children in her face, she, being evilly treated by them and tormented in her heart, what does she do? She flees to Him who is able to heal these things; and, slipping out of the house secretly in the middle of the night, lifting her hands to heaven ^C and watering the earth with tears: "Lord King," she said, "who from the beginning created male and female, who said, 'Increase and multiply' (Gen. I, 28); who gave Isaac to Sarah, and Samuel to Anna, and John to Elizabeth; do Thou also pity me in a similar calamity, and look with compassion, and loosen this sterility, and take away the reproach, and give me the fruit of a barren womb, that I may offer this also to Thee, the One who gave it, just as the former Anna [offered] Samuel." Having cried out so bitterly in contrition of spirit, she returns inside the house, and having slept a little, she sees in a dream two luminaries, ^D excellent in beauty, immense in magnitude, and in shape like a disk. She seemed to see them leaving heaven and gently descending to hover above her head. When she rose in the morning and related the vision to her husband and to her kin, one person said one thing would happen, another said another; but it was in reality a prelude of Him who was to shine forth from her brighter than the stars.

III. Not much time passed, and having conceived, she brought forth the blessed Daniel, and by the birth she is at once freed of both, namely, of the sterility and of the distress of mind. Such were for the blessed Daniel the preludes of his life; thus he came

^A into the light, the true offspring of light. But the boy had now reached his fifth year, yet no name had been imposed upon him by his parents, as they wished this too to be given to him by God, just as his transition into life had proceeded from Him. The parents therefore led the boy to a monastery; at the same time, they also brought whatever pious hands are accustomed to offer to God, so that here, in a truly holy place, he might receive his name. When they had arrived and were asking the superior of the spiritual fold to assign another name to the child, that divine man, having become as one inspired, said that the name to be bestowed should be whatever the Lord would absolutely reveal. And looking at the child—at this very one, I mean, Daniel—he ordered one of the books lying on the table to be brought (for it was their custom for books to lie upon the holy altar for the common benefit of the monks). Immediately, therefore, the boy did what was commanded, and he brought a book, not, as one might say, by simple chance, but by divine counsel and guidance, bringing the one that contained the oracles of the prophet Daniel. Having judged, therefore, as if this were a sign from heaven, the man immediately called him by the same name as the prophet, ^B as he was similar to him in character; and as it pleased God, he called the child Daniel.

IV. Now if this divine man had yielded to the words of the parents, then Daniel would have been immediately dedicated to God and from his earliest hair counted among the monks. But as he was not persuaded, but rather pointed out his age and that he was still a mere infant, they returned home with Daniel, it seeming better to the Superior that the boy should choose the good not by the decision of others, but by his own. Immediately, then, the first sprout indicated what sort of plant it would be, and the shadows of virtues already followed him who walked through the light. But with his age advancing a little, he clearly showed how great a growth of spirit he had attained beyond his years. For when Daniel had just touched upon his twelfth year, and without having said anything to anyone or revealing the desire of his soul, he despised his parents for the sake of Christ, and he despised his kin, and the world, and all that is in the world, and, having left all things—friends, and that village ^C which bore him—he arrived at a coenobium of monks about twelve stadia away from it. Falling at the feet of the superior, he asked to be enrolled among them and to be clothed in the monastic habit. But when he, pointing out the tenderness of his body and his youth, said that it was not possible for him to undergo the life of monks, for he would soon be exhausted by the labors, which are many and difficult even for men—vigils, sleeping on the ground, fastings, the perfect mortification of the body and its desires—and therefore urged him to remain for some time with his parents and not to undertake such labors at an immature age and with a body not yet robust and adult: "I, for my part," said Daniel, "have come for this very reason, that I might thus live for Christ, and die to the flesh ^D

and every other bodily hardship; as I saw these things, the others..."

^A V. When, therefore, the superior of the holy monastery had said many things and had also heard much, but could not blunt his impulsion nor his keen love, he took the brothers into counsel as to whether it behoved him to be admitted into their monastery. But as they were struck by the boy’s great constancy and the intensity of his spirit’s zeal, and surmised that the thing moving him was divine, and they were glad to consent to his reception, from that time onward Daniel was with them; and was indeed above them in his life according to God and his fervour for virtue. A short time intervened, and when his parents learned where he was and with whom, they came to him with admiration. But when they had seen that the boy had dedicated and consecrated himself to God, they felt nothing of a human or paternal nature; nor did they ask to take back their dearest son and return home with him, and this even though he was not yet fully initiated into the monastic habit. Rather, truly wishing to show themselves to be his parents, they rejoiced greatly at what had come to pass, and with many supplications entreated the superior of the monastery to clothe him in the monastic garment before their very eyes. He again communicated this matter to the monks, and after he saw that they too agreed, he commanded everyone to be gathered in the Lord’s house, and having recited the holy rule for Daniel, he sheared his hair and clothed him in the monastic habit, as he was already living and was resolved to live like a monk. Having instructed his parents not to make frequent visits to the boy, he sends them away rejoicing, which is indeed a very strange thing, parents deprived of their son ^B.

VI. The blessed Daniel was therefore there, progressing ^C and growing strong in spirit; and as he grew, all the seeds of virtue grew within him as well, and others too followed not long after. But that which was for him the beginning of a more excellent life, and the root of the fruits that afterwards appeared, this I shall now proceed to tell. Divine love kindled his heart and ignited an intense flame of desire to see those places in which Christ endured the passion for us, and where He was buried, and from whence, having risen, He ascended into the heavens. At the same time, a certain divine longing also inflamed his soul to behold that man, great in exercise—I mean Simeon, who was upon the pillar. Approaching the superior of the monastery, he communicated to him what he desired and begged that what he asked not be denied to him. The superior did not indeed yield of his own accord at that time; but not long after, he permitted it, albeit reluctantly. For as it was necessary for him to go to Antioch because of ecclesiastical cares, he then took Daniel, along with certain other of the brothers, and began the journey. And when they had arrived at the village which is called Telada, where that great man of holiness, Simeon, was performing those great labours of exercise—and when they had arrived at the very pillar, he was gazing at and... ^D

^A considering the height of the column, the harshness of the place, and how that noble man endured the cold of winter and the heat of summer, the threats of storms, the force of winds, and every other physical challenge. When others—the more foolish among them—saw this, they imagined the saint was undergoing such great struggles out of vainglory. But blessed Daniel was not only struck with amazement, he was also stirred to imitation and received a sting of holy zeal in his soul. And when those below had called out, and that great man, looking down from above, told them to set a ladder and climb up to him, it was then a fine opportunity to witness an exact proof of their souls; for one, pleading the weakness of his feet, another his kidneys, another his old age, and others something else, declined the ascent. But Daniel, having run and begged for the teacher’s permission, and being urged on by him, climbed up with eagerness and greeted the great Simeon with joy and wonder.

^B VII. Indeed, having been deemed worthy of a blessing from him, as was fitting, through the laying on of hands, he also received a prophecy of what was to come. For he heard: “Take courage, child, and let your heart be strengthened. For you are about to endure many and grievous labours for the sake of Christ, who will also invigorate your soul to bear them nobly.” Daniel then descended after this sweet conversation with the man and returned to this holy monastery. When God called the superior of the monastery to Himself, this excellent Daniel—who had recently learned how to be well shepherded and was now being considered as capable of shepherding others well, and was being forcibly dragged by his fellow monks to do so—he, desiring his beloved silence, and ^C not only knowing that he should by no means yield to their words but also suggesting to them another who would profitably oversee them, was meanwhile counselling himself with the best advice, saying, “Look, Daniel, you have become free and beholden to no one. Behold the time you desired long ago. Hold fast, then, to your purpose and your way, and make haste to bring to completion that which you have set before yourself.” Thus having left everything behind, and having disclosed the secret of his soul to no one, he left the monastery in secret and reached that enclosure where the pillar of blessed Simeon ^D was situated; for underneath, around it, there was a certain monastery. When he had spent fourteen whole days there, Simeon still wanted Daniel to remain with him (for like is delighted by like), but he could not bear it, as he was held by another desire. For he longed to see the holy places and was searching for a deeper desert; but hearing that the road toward Palestine was difficult and impassable, inasmuch as the Samaritans were attacking the Christians by law of war, he, not able to endure slackening his zeal, having strengthened himself and persuaded himself to despise death, was ready to accomplish what he was intent upon.

VIII. And since he had begun his journey, there met him on the way a man, of more than elderly age, of the monastic

^A habit, with gray hair, and in all things resembling Symeon who was on the pillar. Addressing Daniel therefore in the Syriac language, and embracing him, he asked what his journey was and where it led. He replied, "If it seems good to God, I am going to the holy places." The other, taking him up, said, "You have spoken well, 'If it seems good to God.' But now know clearly that what you have proposed is not of God's will; for have you not heard of the sedition and tumult which is in Palestine?" He answered, "I have heard, but I trust in God that He will be my helper; and indeed I mostly hope that nothing evil at all will happen to us. But if something of the sort should happen, 'whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord's'." ^B When the old man made this prophetic response: "May He not permit your foot to be moved, and He who keeps you shall not slumber, the angel," and Daniel had answered this with a ready and eager spirit, saying that it was altogether good to die for Christ, the gray-haired man, bearing it with difficulty, turned away and said, "I do not allow it. For God does not permit us to throw ourselves before the time into death and force our own destruction. He is the One who said, 'If they persecute you from this city, flee into another'." When the saint had yielded to the objection and said, "If it seems right to you, I do not delay my return," the other said, "I do not advise you to abandon this good endeavor entirely—for that I would be foolish—but if you trust me, bidding a long farewell to the East, turn ^C and journey to Byzantium, a second Jerusalem—or rather indeed the first. For its privileges have now been given to it by God, in which it will be permitted you to enjoy many temples and many sacred spectacles; and if it is your heart's desire to live in quiet and silence, either in Upper Thrace or at the very mouth of the Pontus, there will be great opportunity for you in this matter, and God will fulfill your desire. Furthermore, you ought not to think that you will encounter God in Jerusalem, but not in Byzantium; for the Divine is by no means circumscribed by place, my beloved."

IX. As the gray-haired man was holding these conversations with Daniel, the sun was already at settings, and it happened that they turned aside to a certain monastery. When Daniel had heard that they were to lodge there: "You, old man, go in first," said he; "I will follow you at your heels." ^D Thinking therefore that the saint was urged by some bodily necessity, he entered the gate and waited. But after he was no longer present, Daniel, thinking that he had lodged somewhere else, approached the prior of the monastery alone and gave to him and the brothers under him an honest kiss, the sign of love. Then he also partook of the food set before him. But when he knew it was the time for sleep, the old man standing by him again urged him to do those things that he had said before, and to reach Byzantium as soon as possible. And he, being awakened, was pondering who this might be, and whether he was some man or one of the angels. But he was the great one

^A commanding him to reach the queen of cities, that this path might also become for many a way toward salvation. Having therefore decided to do so without saying a word to anyone, Daniel, after he had sung the nightly hymns, having bidden farewell to all and departed, set out with haste toward Constantinople. And upon reaching the mouth of the Pontus, the temple of the prince of the host, Michael, which is beautifully situated there, receives him; and he spent seven days there. But having heard some people speaking of another temple, which was situated below the one called the holy [temple], and the place was named Philemporos by the inhabitants, and having learned that evil spirits dwelt in it—and that they sometimes drowned those sailing by, and attacked those passing through, and were evil neighbors to those dwelling nearby, and that it was impossible for anyone to pass by there unharmed, not in the morning, nor in the evening, nor at midday—taking into his mind Antony the Great and his affairs, and how many temptations he too had endured from the demons, and how he had in the end prevailed over them all by the power of the Lord, and what honors he was deemed worthy of having prevailed ^B, he too girded himself for the struggle. And having asked those who were present to show him the temple, and having reached the vestibule, he finds himself in the middle of the temple, carrying as an impregnable weapon the cross of Christ, and chanting at the same time: "The Lord is my light and my savior; whom shall I fear?" (Ps. XXVI, 1) Wherefore, having struck terror into the very phalanx of the demons even before the engagement, he went around every corner, searching for the fleeing enemies, and on each of these [spots] performing genuflections.

X.

to wrestle, and that he did not even need to flee when they attacked, but only opened a small window for the sake of seeing those who approached, and for receiving meager nourishment for the body. Not much time passed, and by the power of Christ all that wicked activity of the demons was destroyed; the whole place was rendered free from their assaults, and henceforth all walked about and sailed the sea freely and without any snares.

^A XI. The fame of this matter spread everywhere, and it was possible to see men and women together, young and old, the poor and the rich, and all who lived in the surrounding regions, being carried toward him as if by a continuous stream, and marveling at how, where previously there was destruction, there was now salvation, and where there were the shoutings of demons, there night and day were sung songs to God. But the envious Satan, the enemy of mankind, unable to tolerate seeing his own defeat, or the patience of the holy man, or the benefit of the pious, ^B set about a second craftiness, and he breathed into some of those in the church who had been enrolled in the clergy such thoughts as were formerly held by the Jews against Christ: that it was not good to allow a man to live here of whom you do not know whence he is, and who draws everyone to himself by his fame, and whose honor is entirely a diminution of your revenues. "But," he said, "make these things known to the bishop, and he will quickly expel him." And this was the sower, and such was his seed. Those who received it were known by no other sign than that they immediately brought these things forth. As soon as they received the seed, they produced the fruit: and they approached the bishop and reported these things about the holy man. The bishop of Constantinople (this was Anatolius), said, "And how, tell me, do you speak evil of a man and attempt to expel him when you neither know whence he is nor what manner of life he leads? On the contrary, it is necessary to let him stay here, so that if he should be a good man, he may make us also partakers of the benefit; but if the opposite, he himself will justly be expelled from here, and you and I will be free from blame in this matter." Thus, they ^C ensnared by themselves—for vice of this kind falls into itself, and is caught by its own deeds—covering their faces in shame, ceased from their wickedness.

^D XII. But when the wicked one saw that this snare of his had also been dissolved, it would be a long story to tell how many visions, more grievous than the former, he again brought upon the blessed man, and how many molestations and vexations, now threatening that he would kill him, now to drown him in the sea, now to do some other thing of the sort which he did not wish, even if he himself and his evil host were to suffer these things most of all from him. For after he had risen and prayed, and had spoken boldly, saying: "The Lord

^A Jesus Christ, in whom you have believed and I believe, may He cast you into the lowest abyss." Then they, wailing bitterly and crying out lamentably, and seeming to strike their own faces, having become like bats, departed and went away while the saint himself was watching.

He, however, never ceasing from doing harm, thinking that if he should attack him frequently, as in a siege, he would eventually be able to depress and break the noble spirit of the blessed one, proceeds to a third trial of malice and again stirs up his former calumniators against him. These, having approached the bishop, as if they had already suffered the greatest injuries, called the holy man a sorcerer, an impostor, and a deceiver, and ^B said that his company was intolerable to them, as he was burdensome and troublesome even by his mere appearance. And he, having by then been overcome by the vexations, immediately sends for Daniel and brings him before him, and asks who he is, and from where, and of what things he is in need, and, above all, what opinion he holds concerning the Divine that he settled in these parts. But he, having first made mention of the greatest and first of the orthodox faith in Christ, then strung together the rest—his country, his lineage, and finally that a divine revelation had moved him to see Byzantium and to arrive here. When the bishop heard these things, he rose up and embraced him, and honored him as truly a man of God, ^C and rebuked those who were speaking against him. And these things, to be sure, were thus well-conducted by the great one; but it was not at all possible for one who had undertaken the life of Christ not also to appear imitating the order of His life as much as possible. Just as then his Master appears after the temptation to be beginning His signs, so too does this one, except in so far as He was moving him, and he, by His power, was performing the miracles.

XIII. Not many days passed, and a severe illness seized the patriarch, which even caused him to become a suppliant to the holy man, ^D and he sends for him immediately, and asks him to pray to Christ on his behalf, to bring help to him in his distress. But when he had merely bent his knees in prayer, Christ was present, hearing him, almost anticipating the petition; and the illness abated, and the high priest became sound. And so much for the miracle; yet one would not be more astonished by the healing than by the kindness shown in the healing. For after he had healed him, he asked for a reward for the healing; and this was that the debt be remitted to those who had slandered him. The pontiff gladly granted his request and said, "For how could I not remit it to those to whom I am almost giving thanks as well, because they brought it about that I should see you, who have bestowed salvation upon me, and were the cause that you should come to us?" But when he reminded him of a monastery, and of gifts, and that he should stay with him always, "If you wish," says the great one, "to follow me with great zeal, allow me"

to do those things which seem right to God and to me." And so, being sent to the temple with a great and illustrious retinue, when he had done the same things as before and had blocked the entrance, he would speak through a small hole to those who approached. Nine years meanwhile had passed, and Providence, calling him to a more perfect life, openly showed him things to come. For when he had been in an ecstasy, he saw a pillar of cloud, and it was raised up very high, and it hung in the air opposite him; and the admirable Simeon was standing upon the top of the pillar. Two youths stood by him, and their garment was bright and shining. Then from above, from the top of the pillar, he heard a voice saying, "Hurry to me, Daniel, and ascend." But when he replied, "And how, O Lord, shall I be able to be raised to such a height?" Simeon ordered the youths who were with him to descend and, having taken him up, to bring him to himself. They performed what was commanded, and they lifted him up and placed him beside him. And he, having immediately embraced him, lifted him up at once into the sky, and he cried out with a loud voice: "Be strong, Daniel; show yourself sturdy and robust, and stand beautifully and generously." But after a very clear voice rang around him (for it seemed to be terrible and like thunder), Daniel, having had his hearing struck and being disturbed, returned as it were from a dream.

^B XIV. This prospectively heralded his future way of life according to Simeon, and that it behooved him both to ascend a pillar and to move to a place much higher than the pillar. Thus were all things accomplished for him by the counsel and will of the Almighty, and not long after, the sheepskin of Elias was sent to him—to him, I say, who in his ways was like Elisha. And it was sent in this way: Sergius, his disciple, had been sent by Simeon to the emperor, bringing him a gift that wards off all evils, namely, the covering which he wore on his head (it is customary to call this a cowl). But the emperor having his mind fixed on other things and being occupied with public cares, while God was managing and dispensing all these things, the aforementioned Sergius decided to sail back and hastened to reach the monastery which they name the Acoemetae, that is, the "non-sleeping" ones. When, therefore, he was sailing back and was approaching the place of Daniel with some others, immediately, as if by a signal, ^C the blessed one was on everyone's lips. And some remembered his endurance, others his prayers, others his cures, and others that he had made mild a place which had been possessed by demons; and that now those who are on the sea sail without danger, and those who are on foot go on their journey unharmed. Sergius, to whom the most precious gift had been entrusted, learned these things, and his soul being moved toward desire, he inquired who this was, and where, and if it were possible to meet him. They pointed out the place to him with alacrity, and when he had landed on the shore, they themselves ^D arrived together with Sergius to the holy man. He received the blessed man very kindly, and he himself explained the departure of Simeon, as I said, from these parts, and what gift he was bringing from him to the emperor. "Rather to you…

Daniel," he said, "was this sent than to him to whom I thought it was being dispatched." But he heard other things in return from Daniel, which God had revealed to him concerning Simeon and the life to be lived in accordance with his rule. When Sergius heard these things, he immediately set aside the sacred gift and bestowed it upon Daniel, saying that it was passing from Father Simeon to Father Daniel. And these things happened in this way. ^A

XV. God, doing as He was accustomed, again stirred up Daniel through a vision that was more divine ^B, that he might undertake a way of life greater and more sublime, foreknowing him to be a chosen vessel, as Paul was. The vision appeared not to Daniel, but rather to Sergius. For it seemed to him that three young men came and said, "Arise, Sergius, and say to Abba Daniel: 'The time of your dwelling in the temple is already fulfilled. Come now, and prepare yourself for greater struggles.'" Since Sergius had made the divine vision known to him—for it was known to that man that he should in no way contradict the promptings of the Almighty, and moreover, the second vision agreed with the first, and besides, the garment of Simeon was a pledge of such a way of life—Sergius was sent to examine the hills and the more deserted places ^C, to see where it was fitting to set up a pillar and live the life of quietude which he loved. After he had searched the parts of the hill well, when he came to the spot where the pillar was to stand, You, O God of all, showed this as well. For the aforementioned Sergius immediately saw a white dove, which kept flapping its wings frequently, and then, after flying up a little, would fall back down again. Thinking, therefore, that it was trapped and caught in snares, he hurried toward it and hastened to take it with his hand. But it immediately flew away and was invisible to the eyes. Having thus received ^D a clear sign of the foundation, and having himself also learned how suitable the place was, he went down to the holy man and reported everything in detail, along with the vision he had seen. And he was pleased to hear it and hastened to reach the place. Marcus, a friend of his and otherwise an acquaintance, donated the pillar. And when that which is customarily called the "modius" was ready and had been fitted to the top of the column, he ordered the wall of the temple to be pierced for him around midnight, and thus, escaping the notice of all, he ascended. And then he offered a prayer with joy, which was thus: "Glory be to You, Christ God, that You have deemed even me worthy of such blessings and of such a way of life. But You know, Master, that trusting in You alone I ascend this pillar and undergo this struggle. Accept my purpose, strengthen me for the course, and finish the undertaking." Thus the blessed man was not only heavenly in spirit, but even as far as

his body could allow, he contended to be—and for the rest, he was alone on the column, placing himself on the boundary of heaven and earth. From the latter, indeed, he was withdrawing in both flesh and spirit, while towards the former he was striving.

^B XVI. But the envious eye could not bear these things, nor were they tolerable to that very father of envy. But when the master of the place—whose name was Gelasius—came to the knowledge of these events, being disturbed in soul by thoughtless anger, or rather moved by a demonic perversity and driven to madness against the holy man (the cause being that he had not set up the pillar with his consent), he reported what had happened to the Emperor, and also reported this to Gennadius, for this man had been appointed Bishop of Constantinople after the passing of Anatolius. Now, he did not get a hearing from the Emperor; but the Bishop, moved by envy, or perhaps yielding to the one who had asked him, thought it right not only for the pillar to be taken down, but for the saint to be subjected to punishment.

Gelasius therefore went up, being full of anger, having taken along many others with him, and desiring to bring the holy man down from the pillar. But the Lord, who is always wonderful in His saints, acted as He now also did, restraining him who was acting with such audacity and glorifying His servant who was hidden. For when there was the greatest serenity, and the air was pure and clear, clouds suddenly gathered, and a thick mist descended, and a violent rain and hail were brought down upon them. ^C And so great was the force of this, and the threat of the wrath from above, that the leaves of the vines even fell off, to say nothing of the fruit, for it was then the time of the vintage. Yet not even these things checked the madness of the deranged man. But though he was close to perishing, not even thus did he learn to be wise, nor did he deign to learn how much Daniel was enriched with grace from above; but panting and drenched, he came on with those about him, indignantly complaining, threatening, shouting, and attempting to cast down the holy man.

XVIII. But after those who were with him suggested what was best, saying that the column was not even near the field, and that from it he would have no trouble at all, but rather that he would enjoy many prayers and that it would be of the greatest use to him to have a good neighbor; after they said these things, they persuaded him. ^D And then he ordered him to descend—moved, I suppose, by shame before those who were present, so that he might not appear to have come in vain—but later promised him the ascent, and that he could remain as long as he wished after having ascended. When, therefore, a ladder had been placed against the column, the holy man was descending, and as he was already setting foot on the sixth step, pity seized the unyielding man, as he saw those feet like other columns, which those all-night and all-day-long stations had rendered swollen, ulcerated, and full of wounds. Having gazed at this with astonishment, he again adjured the holy man to go back up, and asked forgiveness for his undertaking. Later, he also caused the column to be made higher, thicker, and the base...

and everything else more magnificent, and made the emperor more certain of his patience and endurance. And although these things, which are very numerous and great, would suffice to show the life of the holy man and the grace which he had obtained from God, this discourse, considering these things to be small and, as it were, elements and beginnings, hastens to declare those things which are by far greater than these. ^A XVIII. A short time later, there came to the holy man a certain man, Thracian by race, advanced in age, who earned his living by drafting contracts—what the Greeks call a legal expert. ^B This man, bringing an only son possessed by an evil spirit, placed him before the column, and tears ran from his eyes, and he added words even more pitiful than the tears. For see how many reasons he had for lamentation: his nature, his gray hair, the youth of his child, the fact that all his hopes hung on this one boy, the fact that he had set out from afar and endured a long journey, and this for a boy who was possessed and behaving in such a disordered and mad fashion. And when finally he added that "This is the thirtieth day that the evil spirit has been crying out your name," he immediately possessed an aptitude for mercy in his own ready soul. And how could the disciple of Christ not have compassion? "If, therefore," he said, "you believe that through me your son will be healed, it shall be done for you according to your faith." ^C And at the same time he ordered him to be given to drink of the oil from the saints that were there. When this was done, the cruel demon immediately threw him to the ground and tormented him with many spasms, then cried out in a loud wail, "I am going out! Alas, I am going out!" When the eighth day had already arrived, since the demon-possessed boy had vomited up black and congealed blood and had been healed by the prayers of the renowned Father, he was handed over, acting in a healthy manner, to his own father. But he, taking his child, used his tongue for thanksgiving and his tears for joy. For there are tears of pleasure, when, after extreme sorrow, the peaks of joy take hold of the soul and immediately dissolve the cloud that was pressing upon it, and they use the natural flow of tears with pleasure. Thus, the boy is not only healed of the evil demon, but is immediately armed against the demons, since after his healing his father consecrated him to God, and prepared him to put on the monastic habit and way of life, and handed him over to the physician of the body to be made also a physician of the soul; ^D who also drew near pure to the Pure, having left behind all the vanity of life. This was one such instance, and it is not at all inferior to the one that follows.

XIX. A certain Cyrus, who had previously been a governor and afterwards ascended to an episcopal see in Phrygia—it was Cotyaeum—and had departed from it because of some slander stirred up against him, had a daughter, Alexandria by name. She had suffered the same things as the one mentioned before, and was being severely troubled by a demon. Her father, therefore, taking the holy man to mind, brought the child to him with the natural warmth of affection

^A mingled with another—namely, that of faith. As soon, then, as the holy man's hands were laid upon her head, the spirit was put to flight, and the sufferer was immediately seen to be whole. And indeed, to such a miracle another was joined. For Cyrus, now having great confidence in the holy man, was making use of his grace. Hence, he also brought to him the wife of the man to whom he had entrusted the care of his fields, for she too was possessed by a demon; and his confidence did not deceive him, but she, too, along with the daughter, was cleansed from the madness of the demon. For all of which he rendered him great thanks (for he was a learned man and had been educated in humane letters), and later he inscribed an epigram upon the column erected for him, which runs as follows: There stands a man, assailed from every side, fearing no winds; he is fed by ambrosial food and bloodless thirst, having struck his roots into a dual column. And Simeon is the root, preaching the Son of a Mother who knew not wedlock. ^B

XX. Furthermore, there was a day, the most auspicious of all days. A certain man, from among those who lived near the Euxine Sea, came bringing his son, who was himself possessed by a demon, and besides that was deaf and dumb, such as the Gospels teach us Christ healed. When they were already approaching the pillar, the son with his father, the demon shook the boy, and tearing him away from those who were holding him, cast him toward the ladder which at that time happened to be leaning against the pillar. And he immediately climbed the ladder, while the holy man, looking down from above, prayed to God. For how, indeed, would he not have been dashed to pieces by the demon when thrown from the ladder, had not the other restrained the demon with his prayer? He did not, therefore, lay his hands upon him, nor did he do what he was wont to do for others, but he remained above praying, and the boy, while still below and not yet even having reached the middle of the ladder, attained healing. Having mentioned only one, I will recall the others in their own time. ^C

XXI. Leo the Great ruled the Roman Empire, but he could not master nature, for he lacked male offspring. What does he do? He takes refuge in God, the Lord of all, using Daniel as an intercessor with Him. He obeyed, and immediately signaled that his wife would give birth in the following year. The matter, therefore, succeeded just as he had said, and nature yielded to the prayers—not only to grant a son, but to grant him at the very time the holy, god-breathed mouth had foretold. Thus he was not only a son of prayer, but he also gave to others to have sons through prayer. Wherefore, rewarding him, the emperor laid for him the foundation of a third column. ^D

XXII. Since, therefore, fame declared the holy man everywhere, the Empress Eudocia, who had recently been saved from Africa, came to him; and, paying him great reverence and bestowing much honor upon him...

^A begged requesting that he descend from the column, come to her own estates, and dwell there. "For I have many [workers] there," she said, "who are at once friends of silence and able to offer other comfort." He, however, accepting her good intentions and praising her, did not judge it right to move, but rather to persevere where he had been planted by Christ to take root in virtue and bear fruit in the proper season. Having said these things and others like them, and having deemed her worthy of a blessing, he sent her away. And then he moves to the column of Gelasius; and, together with the column (for it was loftier), his virtue was also increased, and he took up a higher way of life.

Yet these things were not to be bearable for the devil, nor for his followers. Therefore, he himself, the one ^B who had kindled the furnace of temptations for him again, made use of those among the heretics in Byzantium as his ministers. Having taken up a certain woman from among the prostitutes, who was Asian by birth, and having sailed to Byzantium—where she, alas! made an evil trade of her own body—they deceived her with words and persuaded her with oaths and the promise of money to do what they desired. They spurred her on, prepared her to go to the holy man, and to instill a longing in either him or one of his disciples, and to lure them into an improper desire. The licentious one therefore approaches the chaste one; the impure soul approaches the pure one, bringing with her a multitude of followers, using disgusting illusions and masks and clothed in gold, with the trappings of other adornments, thinking to steal away and entice those eyes which had loved nothing earthly, nothing composed of matter. ^C And staying in one of the fields which was opposite the column and the sheepfold of the rational flock of this good shepherd, Daniel, she pretended to be ill, so that, if possible, she might be the cause of spiritual sickness to the holy man himself; or, if not that, at least bring ruin upon his disciples.

XXIII. But when, after having remained for a long time, all her craft proved vain, she goes down to those who had sent her, and the execrable one speaks and utters false charges against the holy man—things which had never even come to the mind of that great man (for the one who had so thoroughly shaken off [carnal] thoughts did not believe it, nor did any of his disciples, far from it). These were the charges: "Daniel," she said, "had been thoroughly captivated by love for me; he had received the dart in his soul, and finally he instructed his disciples to bring me up to him via the ladder; ^D but because I would not submit, they plotted to destroy me, that this intemperance might be concealed; and behold, with difficulty I escaped their hands and have been saved by flight." Thus, while that maenad was being proven to be a liar, those men snatched up her words, paying heed to them as if they were most true; for what they wished, those things they believed to be true, and passed them on to others. But God was the same here also, and the justice that is inescapable and unerring. What happens then, and how are these things ordered? An evil spirit is immediately sent against the base and lying woman...

and it compels the unwilling woman to utter the fraud of the heretics within her, and her own lie and device once again. The citizens therefore took her, and leading her to the holy man, they begged him to heal her. But he, the true disciple of Christ, who said that one must forgive the debts of one's brothers seventy times seven, and love one's enemies, fulfilled both commands at once with one action: the one by forgiving the injustice, and the other by commiserating with the calamity, or rather, by perfectly restoring her through the use of prayer. And having anointed her with the oil of the saints ^B as if with some healing medicine, he immediately cast out the evil spirit like one of the venomous things, and he handed the sufferer over to her own people, sound. She, embracing his pillar, gave great thanks and subsequently made many promises to God, as one who had escaped a double disease—not only that which appeared and brought harm to the object that was seen, but much more the invisible one which was self-willed and could punish the immortal soul immortally.

XXVI. The blessed man was able to heal not only the disease that had just fallen upon her, but, like a good doctor, he was able both to know the future and to see and speak correctly by prophecy about those things that were to happen. Having received the revelation from above that great threats were about to attack the great city, he informed the bishop Gennadius, commanding him to use more intense prayer. Indeed, he also predicted similar things to Emperor Leo, and he ordered public processions to take place twice a week; for thus, he assured them, the wrath of God would become milder. These men, however, having held the commands of the holy man in contempt, were about to learn by experience those things which the multitude of their sins had caused to come to pass. The discourse as it proceeds will make this clear. But since it was necessary that Daniel should also be the sacrificer of the divine Lamb, as he had already sacrificed both his body and soul to Him, the Spirit ^C moves the emperor from above, and the emperor also moves Gennadius, and he writes to him, that taking many from the Church, he should go up to the great Daniel and complete him with the order of the priesthood. When he had done these things, he who had great power to foresee the future first perceived in his spirit the coming to him. Then, when he had already arrived at the pillar, he said that he had long desired to ascend to him, but that ecclesiastical cares had prevented him from fulfilling his desire, yet now he had come both to see him and to enjoy his prayers and words. He requested that a ladder also be brought. "In vain," said Daniel, who was endowed with great power of prediction to him, "did the one who moved you to come to us cause you such labor." This brought both astonishment and fear to the priest—astonishment at how he had discerned the manner of his arrival in this way, and fear because the thoughts of his own mind were ^D manifest to the great man; for, had he not been compelled by the one in command, he would never have agreed to ascend.

^A XXV. Since, however, the bishop and those who followed the bishop pleaded much for the ladder to be set in place, that he might ascend, the unconquered one forbade it. But the sun was already standing at high noon, striking their very heads with its hot rays, and the bishop saw that the multitude was being scorched by thirst and heat. So, what did he do? Below, he directed the archdeacon to recite the customary prayers, while he himself, having prayed, ordained the great man, even though he was not present, as a presbyter. At that moment the multitude shouted, "Worthy!" over him who was truly worthy. Thus, when the Patriarch Gennadius had named Daniel a priest and had said, "Behold, the people have sent forth for thee, according to custom, the voice that has come to pass regarding this, and God from above has laid His hand upon thee through me," and when he had said simply that he had received all the symbols of the priesthood, he added, "It remains, therefore, for the ladder to be leaned against the column, so that thou mayest also partake of the sacred sacrifice, and mayest yield in everything to God who calls thee." The blessed man, realizing that these things could not have happened without God, and that God Himself had given His consent to what had taken place, ordered the ladder to be set up, and he gave and received the heavenly pearl—I mean the divine communion. Then, having performed all the other things that are customary for priests to perform, and having prayed for the multitude, he sent them away, at once rejoicing and marveling; marveling, on the one hand, at his foreknowledge and his truly praiseworthy timidity, and on the other, that though with difficulty, he was nonetheless persuaded himself to receive the priesthood, and to provide them with the prayers and the blessing. These things were also made known to the Emperor, and they filled him with similar joy and astonishment.

^B XXVI. Since he had not taken on the great pride that is proper to imperial rule, but had learned how much virtue is more precious than empire, he himself also ascended to him. And just as if he had left below and cast off his royal vanity and haughty brow, he threw himself upon the ground and touched his holy feet, as if by doing this he were more honored than in being an emperor. When he had touched them, he was filled with ^C astonishment, just as Gelasius had been before him; for those feet were extremely swollen and entirely covered with sores, and it was at once horrifying and piteous to see and to touch them. Then, therefore, the Emperor bestowed upon him a base of double columns, which he himself had set up, calling it a double column; and as Daniel stepped upon it, he rejoiced. For it was lifted higher in height, and thus it was extended for the purpose of his spiritual exercise—in summer, with the sun striking him more hotly, and in winter, with the air colder. And when the force of the winds, of snow, and of hail ^D attacked him vigorously and demonstrated a constancy that was by no means endurable, no doubt many miracles followed. It is not easy for me, avoiding length of narrative, to tell of all of these, but only of the most essential ones, as I have promised. But that which I could not leave out even if I wished, this I will now endeavor to relate, as best I can in my discourse.

^A XXVII. The circuit of the year had already reached its beginning, and the month which the Romans call September was at hand, in which those who love God celebrate the feast of the great martyr Mamas. When evening came, therefore, and the pious were concluding the rites of the festival and keeping an all-night vigil, the prophecy of the great Daniel reached its end. Suddenly, in the greatest queen of cities, a conflagration began, and it was so fanned and prevailed to such a degree that it well-nigh consumed the whole city. It began, indeed, at the wall that is by the sea, which they also call the *neorion* [dockyards], and it reached as far as the Forum of Constantine and extended to the harbor of Julian, as if it had girdled the middle of the city. In that place all bodies of people were engulfed; and whatever was caught was easily destroyed, and the fire, being thus fed with timber, rose into a most mighty flame. It was an unconquerable evil, for it was proved that whatever was brought to offer aid achieved nothing. ^B Because of this, it devoured many houses and many temples, and a multitude of men and women as it spread. Many were immediately mutilated in the parts and members of their bodies which the fire touched, and they were half-burnt and half-cut away, becoming more pitiable to their own kin than those who had utterly perished with all they had. There was, therefore, a danger that the miracle of the world, as it is commonly called—Constantine’s city, I mean—might be seen to suffer things similar to the burning of Sodom. With difficulty, at last, in such a great evil, the prediction of the holy Daniel came to their minds, and they believed that the evil would be conquered by his prayers alone. Hence it came about that they ran to him with great speed; one lamenting the loss of money, another of servants, another of a house, another of friends, and one of kinsfolk, another of his wife and children, and yet another of all his possessions at once. ^C By these things they caused the saint such grief that, filled with tears, he judged them for their negligence, since, though he had much testified and prophesied to them, they had not seen fit to avoid the evil through repentance; they were Ninevites only in suffering, not also in repenting. Saying these things, he exhorted them to take care for prayer and fasting; and he himself, lifting his hands to heaven, called upon the help from there, and after the prayer, when he had told them the end of the calamity, he dismissed them. "In seven days," he said, "the threats of the fire will cease." Thus he spoke, and the deed followed, and the fire was no more. Then fear seized the others, and all those in authority, and the emperor himself; and having taken his empress [with him], he became a piteous petitioner to the blessed Daniel, asking for mercy concerning what had passed, and for safety in the future. ^D XXVIII. By now, after the autumnal equinox, the weather had changed and it was winter—a winter greater than speech can explain, yet it was overcome by the unconquered spirit of the noble man. Very many rains fell, and there was a vehement storm of winds. The winds themselves also stirred up a sedition against one another, and many blew at once, and so wild were they that even the iron grips of the columns, which

connected and joined the two columns together and supported Daniel on high, were violently torn away; he, however, was held fast by only a small column that happened to have been inserted between them. The storm, therefore, fell upon them at once, and the columns were shaken, and the righteous man on high was carried ^A hither and thither like a branch of a tree and was swung about by the blast. Below, the disciples cried out with tears, fixing their eyes on him alone, and their one bitter expectation was the deprivation of their father. But the hope that Daniel had in the Lord did not waver; rather, fixed upon this unshakeable rock, the blessed man, speaking nothing to anyone, and having no fear even if this should happen (for what is death burdensome to him, for whom remaining here was, according to David, a prison?), kept his mind raised upward and continued in prayer. The righteous man cried out, therefore, and the Lord heard him immediately, and from above, from heaven, as once before from the ship, he rebuked the winds, and instantly there was a great calm and stillness. And so much for the winds.

^B XXIX. But since it was necessary that not only the winds, but also certain of those who were suffering from the madness of Arius should be restrained from their confusion, this too was provided through him most wisely, as is customary. And observe how Providence knows how to weave together various and manifold dispensations, and how it often connects one thing through another. The emperor knew what had happened to the holy man and made haste to see the column, partly to impose penalties on those who had not made the grips secure and sturdy, and partly to fasten them again for safety in the future. But the great meekness of Daniel rescued those men from the threats of the emperor, who was threatening them with death. Yet on his descent from the mountain, no small danger befell the emperor. For fear had by chance agitated the horse he was riding, and it, being terrified and having raised its front ^C feet upwards, fell immediately supine upon the ground; the horse fell supine, and the emperor with it. The part of the imperial chair that stood raised in front struck the emperor’s forehead and knocked off the crown upon his head from a distance; at that moment, it happened that the pearls that were in it were scattered, one here and another there. But Daniel, having forestalled the evil one with prayer, saved the emperor from an evil death, and he performed his return without such danger. But here is the essence of my narrative, and how Providence knows how to manage things in a paradoxical way.

XXX. The emperor’s groom—or, as the common and familiar language might say, the count of the horses, named Jordan—had for all the previous time been suffering under the lawless madness of Arius. But then, fearing the emperor’s danger and also that the incident might become a cause of anger against him, he ran to the holy man. He, however, promised to deliver him not only from the fear of the leader [the emperor], but also to rid him of that wicked false opinion, which is more grievous than any other danger. The groom heard this, and with his meek and gentle persuasions, he abandoned the opinion of Arius

and now thinks as the orthodox do. The holy man therefore sent word to the emperor that Jordanes, having renounced his deception, now follows the correct doctrines; and that he is most righteous, and for this reason especially—which is also why he came here to me—that he might obtain forgiveness from you. The emperor wrote back, saying: "The cause of my danger was none other than myself, having dared to mount a horse before your eyes, instead of remaining on foot, not far from the holy column. From this time forward, I shall take careful heed of this. As for Jordanes, I am not only not angry with him, but I am even very glad that my falling from the horse was the cause for him, who was lying low, to rise up." Henceforth, the emperor’s reverence for the holy man was so great that he not only honored him himself as was fitting, but also showed him to others as if he were a heavenly being. ^A

XXXI. Now not long after, when it happened that the king of the Lazi came to the Roman emperor for the sake of making a treaty, the emperor, leaving aside other things, took him and led him to the holy man. "This," he said, "is the miracle of my empire." And the barbarian, seeing his endurance and fortitude, was so struck with wonder that he worshiped with tears not only the saint, but also the column upon which he was set. He uttered many words from a mind that was well-instructed and had learned much, saying: "I thank you, O heavenly King, that to me, who had come to an earthly king, you have shown the heavenly manner of life of this man, and have deemed me worthy to be a spectator of such mysteries." ^B Thus, the great man was considered so worthy of admiration by both of them that they both made him the arbiter for defining their treaties. Furthermore, when Gubazius, king of the Lazi, had returned home and recounted the miracle to the peoples subject to him, he always kept the saint in remembrance. He never sent to Byzantium without also sending letters to him, which were not limited to mere greetings, but were largely concerned with remembering him and praying for his kingdom. So much did all wonder at the just man’s endurance—kinsmen and guests, private citizens and kings, Romans and barbarians alike—that those approaching drew near to him as if to an angel, and those departing called for his help from afar, requesting something through his prayers, and they obtained it. ^C

XXXII. What has been said above is indeed sufficient to make his endurance known, and [to show] that his struggles and trials were beyond that of a human. But since it is my earnest desire to omit nothing of importance, I shall add to what has been said something greater, which pertains to his fortitude and endurance and to the wonderment of Him who gave him strength. It was winter, and a glacial and very harsh winter at that; the tempests of the winds were again violent and more severe than those that had preceded them; and along with the wind, thick snow was falling. The winds, therefore, attacking him more vehemently, blew away the skin-cloak from his shoulders and flung it into a certain ravine below; and along with the winds, the

^A much and cold snow also beat against his face. But he (for he had no roof beneath which he could take refuge) all night long (O soul unconquered by the bonds of the body!) endured everything with his naked body—the bitterness of the season, the snow, the winds, the harsh congealing and freezing about the dawn. Day appeared, and the evil did not cease, but grew stronger, and the winter intensified. The disciples, moreover, had no means to peer out from the door, and there was no one to bring him aid. That whole day, then, and the following night, which was much more bitter, this noble man endured bravely and steadfastly.

Now it was already the third day of the storm, and the fierceness of the frost having abated, the more fervent of the disciples placed the ladder against it, and having ascended with great haste, they saw a ^B horrifying sight, O Lord and God; and although what they expected to see was something even more fearful than that which they did behold, yet at the very appearance it seemed more terrible: the saint already stripped of his cloak, but encased on all sides by ice—his head, his face, and the other parts of his body—and not only this, but the body itself entirely frozen and, if one considers the cold and the solidification, turned into ice. One would have called him a man of ice (for what else?) or a corpse, because he was not even thought to have breath in him. Having, therefore, with difficulty melted the ice with warm water and also sprinkled his body and washed it with sponges, since after a good while he came to himself, and as if from death having again received his breath, he had recovered his voice, he said: “Why, I ask you, do you wish to cause me trouble, ^C and vex me while I am sleeping sweetly? For as I was just now calling upon the Lord for aid, it happened that I fell into a light sleep. But well may it be with you, O children, who take such care of your father.” And, “Give me,” he said, “something with which to cover myself,” blushing, I think, on account of his nakedness, yet not feeling the need of warmth. So they brought him other garments and clothed him, having put on a robe of divine joy, as I may say with the prophet.

XXXIII. ^D Much, then, after this, when the Christ-loving emperor was entreating and begging him (for these things had reached even him), saying: “If not for your own sake, yet for ours and for our benefit, spare these perilous and extreme rigors; and do not, by being almost the author of your own death, leave us orphans, and seem to be departing this life yourself before the time.” While the emperor was saying these things and more, and was entreating him, and at the same time clasping his feet, he reluctantly consented to have at least a small roof, out of reverence for the emperor's tears. And though I have said this many times, nevertheless I shall say it now as well: there was no greater miracle to the emperor than the endurance and life of the great Daniel. Therefore, all who were sent as envoys to him, whether they were kings or ambassadors, some indeed through others, and others even

^A by his own hand, he brought to the holy man. And they, in seeing rather than hearing, were struck with amazement, and thus they returned, being blessed and having become better in their souls. Now, that he had also received from above the gift of seeing future things as if they were already present has been shown in many ways in what has gone before; there is, however, a clear proof of this as well. A rumor was circulating everywhere that Gaiseric, king of the Vandals, was waging war against the Romans with great preparation and greater audacity, and that he had already arrived at Alexandria with a large force, wishing to make it a prize of war for himself. Consequently, there was no small struggle for those in office and for the emperor himself, who quickly ran to the customary remedy for his distress and made the rumor known to the holy man. But he, as if not foreseeing, but already seeing with his own eyes the things that were to happen, immediately said that Gaiseric would not only fail to capture Alexandria, but would also return home with nothing accomplished in all other respects as well. There is, in short, no need to add what came to pass for those who know the man; for it came about not long after, just as the God-bearing tongue of Daniel had foretold.

XXXIV. Because of these things and many others more marvelous than these, the emperor, wishing to reward the great Daniel, since he could not do so in any other way, asked to at least make a small house for his disciples: "So that they may have," he says, "a dwelling for their bodies." But the holy man said: "If you spoke of erecting a building, I cannot be pleased by it. For such a thing never belonged to the blessed Simeon. But if you wish to do me a favor that is to my liking, hasten to bring his relics here, and you will find that a most welcome gift for me." Then willingly the emperor ^B orders that, on the one hand, a holy house be built for Simeon to the north of Daniel’s pillar; and, on the other hand, that houses also be erected for the guests who ascended the mountain and for the disciples of the great man, even though the saint forbade this repeatedly. When those who had been sent to Antioch had brought the relics, as the emperor had ordered, the great Daniel instructed the bishop of the city to proclaim and publicly announce the transfer of the tabernacle, and that he himself should sit in the emperor’s carriage, holding ^C the relics in his bosom, and thus make the journey with psalms and hymns, and that when he had brought them to the temple of the commander of the host, Michael, he should celebrate the divine liturgy there. When these things were being carried out, and the relics were being escorted with a great and most magnificent retinue, the Lord was seen to perform many miracles through them along the way; to narrate these in detail is certainly not of the present time. But after those things pertaining to the relics reached their end, and the priest himself and all who accompanied him ascended with joy to the holy man, his most sweet soul poured out greatest thanks to them in his words, and truly caused much honey to flow into their souls, speaking to them of love for the poor and for brothers, of charity, of judgment and of recompense, and of other such things, and persuading them to weep for joy to such an extent that only those who have had experience of such tears can know.

^A XXXV. Nor did he show the excellence of his virtue only in the things he himself did, but also in the things suffered by those who were not ashamed to revile him. For instance, when one of those who were approaching him—a man who had erred concerning the faith—was once heaping reproaches upon the holy man, and those present and listening were rebuking him, the saint himself put his hand inside his garment, drew out a roasted fish, and said, "Behold, this man who in your judgment is abstinent, was eating this and many others before you arrived." He spoke, and immediately justice pursued the man. For after a short while, when he himself had truly eaten of the fish and had given some to his wife and children to eat, a madness seized them, and they were all seen to be possessed by a demon. Those who were present, therefore, perceiving the cause and pitying him for this double madness, took them and led them to the holy man. And he, who was not only gentle toward those who sinned, but even skilled in turning their calamities to the opposite, when he saw them confessing and begging, prayed and delivered them from the madness and from the more grievous demon of vainglory. ^B And they, who after this had so greatly profited from his healing that they wished to have their thanksgiving recorded, fashioned his likeness in silver, placed themselves under his feet, and inscribed their names and the thanksgiving, and dedicated it in the very church of the Archangel. ^C Such was the persuasion upon the lips of the blessed man, and so much was his discourse able—almost as much as his life—to charm the soul and persuade it to choose the narrow way, that he persuaded not only those who came up to him for this very purpose, or who were otherwise mild and gentle, to weep and to be romantically captured by his great love, but he also disposed the impudent and savage to the same things. And here is a clear proof. ^D XXXVI. A certain man named Edranus, a Galatian by race, otherwise manly and valiant of hand, reared in blood and wars, and one who had nonetheless brought back many feats of arms, and had under him many men, all of them valiant in battle—the report of him came and reached the ears of the Emperor. He immediately summoned him and those under his command; he bestowed other honors upon the men, but to him he entrusted the care of his horses—it is customary to call him "comes," as the account has indicated above. He also sends him, as was his wont, to see the great Daniel and to receive his blessing. When he had gone to him, and had learned his life, and had been taught by his words the things that were truly profitable, and had been changed by a certain divine transformation, and had been turned from a wolf into a sheep, he bade a long farewell to campaigns and wars and the honors from the Emperor; and he who before that time had been exercised in nothing but blood and slaughter (for what else is a soldier, and a barbarian at that?), was suddenly a philosopher and a disciple of the gentle Christ, and he begged to shave his head and be enrolled among his followers. And since he also [besought] the great one with his entreat

entreaties to grant his request, he becomes a teacher of many others; and having called together all those who were with him—both kinsmen and acquaintances and those otherwise related to him—he urges them to follow the same path as he. His exhortation, indeed, was such that it could vie with the tongue of orators and carry off the victory; the most delightful parts of which I shall commit to memory, and I know that you, too, will shortly share in the joy of it. ^B 37. "I," he says, "have resolved for the future to serve the heavenly King; for I have persuaded myself that it will profit a man nothing if he gains the whole world, but suffers the loss of his own soul. And what profit comes to us from war, unless it be swords, and murders, and blood, and carnage? And what calamity does not accompany these, and, furthermore, the ruin of the soul, in which he who has fallen has fallen justly? For why should one wage war against those who are of the same race? And he who kills is altogether a parricide and cursed. For why, for the sake of money or empty glory, has he dared to undertake such an evil deed? But lions, O men, and leopards, and wolves, and if there be any beast more savage than these, never wage a common war among themselves; but to us, in whom there is by nature both gentleness and reason—which suppresses the ferocity that is contrary to nature, and indeed also stirs up pity and brings to memory our common nature—and above all, to whom the greatest of commandments is that we should neither commit an injury nor argue back at all if we are injured: and this while we have near at hand the example of that very One, our Lord, who, when He was being led to the slaughter, followed (and yet, how great is the difference between the Lord and His servants!)—how is it that these things are rightly ordered, when we have many rewards for not doing these things, and many punishments for doing them? But if it is necessary to retaliate against those who attack us, it is necessary by all means to call upon the great and high hand for our defense and vindication, so that, by acting in accordance with what He commands, we might inflict more severe blows upon our enemies. Therefore, if you wish, leave these things; but remain with me, and let us choose the life which is from God. But if not, let each one go his own way; I shall compel no one further, even in this following Christ, who, having honored us with many other things, has honored us above all with free will." ^C 38. Even if these words do not seem to belong to a barbarian, if someone considers the grace of the divine Spirit, and that he was worthy to attain it, he will certainly find that he was capable of saying these things, and things even more sublime than these. Shortly, however, the power of his persuasion was also shown. For he persuaded two barbarians, who had not even heard the divine doctrine by word of mouth, to abandon everything and live together with him; while to the others, having given them money from what he possessed and bid them farewell, he permitted them to go whither they would. He, however, and those with him, following the sacred rule of renunciation, receive the habit of monks from holy hands, and Edranus, having changed his name, is ^D called Philotheos.

^A Nor did the emperor himself remain ignorant of what had taken place; but upon learning of the event, he bore it heavily, and sent men to reproach Edranus for his departure. When he found him to be immovable in his purpose—and this was also confirmed to him by letters from the holy man—he despaired of bringing him back and resolved to trouble him no further. As for Titus, he was so seized by the zeal and imitation of the great man that he was even curious about his nourishment, and thought it of great importance to learn what he ate. ^B And since he did not see him after the evening chants when the other brothers retired to take their rest, he would secretly leave the dormitory and hide behind the columns to watch the holy man; so that, often failing to attend the nocturnal psalmody on this account, he provided the brothers with an impression of sloth. But when, after seven full days, he had learned nothing more, he revealed his thoughts to the holy man and asked him to tell him whether, if at all, he ate and drank. And when the latter assured him that he did, but added that he used only such nourishment as was sufficient to hold the vessel of the body together—for we do not live in order to indulge in luxuries, but rather we are nourished so that we may have life—he acknowledged his submission with an obeisance and departed; and from that point on, he practiced such restraint regarding food and sleep that he partook of food only so far as was necessary to sustain life.

^C XXXIX. But what manner of struggle did this noble man show against sleep? Having suspended himself in mid-air by ropes fastened to his armpits, he would extend a board against his chest, and place his book upon the board, so that he might read while suspended in this way; and if, overcome by exhaustion, he ever needed to turn to sleep, the board would receive his head, providing some small relief to the force of nature. Now, Titus was dear to the emperor himself on account of his virtue; and whenever the emperor went up to the holy man, he would also go to him and return, gaining great benefit from him. ^D Having thus lived out his life in this manner, he fell asleep in peace in that same place. But not only did he look toward virtue in this way, but also one of his servants, a man named Anatolius; for while the former was alive, he bore the yoke of the life of Christ with him, and after he departed, he practiced virtue even more intensely and made many others partakers of the benefit. Thus the grace of the spiritual father was preserved in a threefold offspring, and thus the lineage became fertile, as far as virtue is concerned, for Anatolius. For twelve disciples filled his choir, breathing the same zeal for good things as he; and later, a holy house and monastery were built for him, and the man was famous and distinguished. But these things are enough for now.

XL. But we must return again to where we left off. What about the things that happened after this to the admirable Daniel, and by what miracles was his life appropriately glorified? For the emperor Leo betrothed his daughter Ariadne, who was already of marriageable age, to Zeno the Isaurian, and bestowed honor upon him by his presence at the wedding chamber.

^A Then he also sent him against the barbarians who were ravaging Thrace. Along with the leaders who were under his command, he went to the blessed Daniel for speedy help. And he, speaking prophetically, declared that Zeno would return unharmed, and that although some would later plot against him, he would yet prevail over their plots. These things were sufficient, and there was no need to say more, as it could be known with certainty from what had gone before that these things also happened exactly as he had said. Nevertheless, these things shall be told in detail, for the discourse is addressed to godly ears that thirst to know everything.

By this time, the emperor Leo had departed from among men, and the child born to Zeno by Ariadne, I mean the little Leo—who had also been proclaimed emperor by his grandfather—since he was, on account of his tender age, not at all suited to administer such a great empire, his father Zeno was raised to the scepter by the Senate. To this Zeno, the child, his colleague in the empire, immediately died, and the sovereignty was united solely in the father. When everything among the Romans was in peace and calm, a grave envy was kindled against him by his kinsfolk, and, to speak with the Prophet, "They hated me without a cause," ^B and the plotters were Armatus and Basiliscus. Therefore, when Zeno frequently sensed the plots, he disregarded every other form of assistance, but went to the holy man and reported everything. And what did he not prophesy of those things that were to happen to him? And what of those things that were prophesied did not come to pass? He predicted that he would be cast out of the empire, and that he would be reared in exile, and in lack of food would eat grass, and again later be recalled by those who hated him, and return to the empire, and in it receive the end of his life. And as for him, when first those mentioned above, at the instigation of the empress Verina, were weaving plots against him, he willingly withdrew from the empire, knowing that it could not be otherwise, as night and heavy rain aided him in his flight; and having secretly crossed the strait of the sea, he arrived with his wife in Isauria.

^C XLI. But when the discourse reaches this point, I do not know where to turn, as many things call and draw me at the same time, which are equal in utility and equal in order. For many things were being splendidly performed by the great Daniel at the same time, and at the same time those things which he had predicted were being fulfilled; and he himself stood in the battle line for the sake of piety. Which, then, should be recounted, those or these? I think that you have already had your fill of the predictions and do not desire more, but are seeking his zeal for piety. Basiliscus, as the story goes, seized the scepter; but he immediately hissed terribly against the Church of God, and raved with some blasphemous and spurious words concerning the dispensation of the flesh assumed by Christ. ^D As for Acacius, the one who held the high priesthood...

who indeed defended the correct doctrine but who vigorously resisted the storm of his dogmas with fervor of spirit and freedom of speech, he ^A resolved to put him to an unjust death. This gathered together many of the monks and many of the laity as well, and the whole flock, having run together, saved the shepherd who was in danger of perishing. It had been decided, therefore, to call the great Daniel to their aid, and the priest signified the emperor’s rage against the meek man. But the emperor, who was wise at doing evil, having learned of this, himself also signifies to Daniel that this very priest was rather the cause of such turmoil. For, he says, he causes the city to rise up against me, and he subverts the military, and heaps up insults, and piles on reproaches, and employs countless things against us; for which reason it is necessary for you, he said, by your prayers rather to bring aid to the emperor against the bishop.

^B XLII. But here let someone consider for me the most wise discernment of the admirable Daniel, and his most noble battle for Christ; of which the former he showed in detecting the wickedness, the latter in not only heaping reproach upon him who was heaping reproach upon the humanity assumed by the true God, but also in threatening him with the greatest things, and speaking prophetically to him: "Tearing," he says, "God shall tear your kingdom," and adding other things which were able to bite and touch his heart to such a degree that not even he who was to be the minister of these words dared to announce them to the emperor by word of mouth, but asked of the great one that these things be signified to the emperor in sealed letters. And so indeed he departed. But when the high priest had gathered almost all the excellent bishops, he sends to the great Daniel, exhorting him to give his aid for Christ, saying that it was for him alone, of both tongue and virtue, to struggle against such an absurd blasphemy and to undertake the war for the Church. ^C These men, then, having gone, reported these things. But since it was very difficult for the holy man to descend from the pillar, and he refused, what does the patriarch contrive again? Wishing to bend him to this, he sends the bishops once more, having commanded them to appear to him in sorrow, using miserable words and gestures, and to shed tears—a most powerful medicine for persuasion—and to attempt to bend him from every direction. "Imitate," they say, "the first Master and Teacher. For in those things which are done for Christ, it is virtuous to imitate Christ. He also inclined the heavens and came down, working out the salvation of men. What, then, is absurd if you also descend for a short time from the pillar, and save the Church which is in danger of perishing, for which He whom you love did not spare His own blood? Imagine the Church ^D herself standing by you, and letting out a cry, and extending her hands for aid."

XLIII. Having instructed the bishops with these and many other things, and having altogether exercised them so that they might...

^A approach the petition most fittingly and propose it most miserably; and as they did what was commanded, and cried out from below in the manner of suppliants with tears, at first the holy man was indignant at what was being done and was troubled in spirit. Afterwards, when he saw them persevering the more and praying more vehemently, sending forth hot tears with a pitiable cry, that merciful soul, torn between two conflicting thoughts, knew not what to do. For when he looked at the priests and the priests’ tears, he would be moved toward the petition; but when he looked at the pillar and the labors of those on the pillar, and the most desirable quiet, he was inflexible. So, with his thoughts thus conflicting and standing as it were in equilibrium, he sought the inclination of divine judgment; and as he stood in prayer, a voice forthwith proceeded from heaven, commanding him both to descend and to return again to the pillar. Thus, therefore, the bishops, receiving him with joy, led him ^B to the high priest; and it is impossible to describe how full of joy he was again, and with how much honor he received him. Straightway, then, the soldier of Christ turned back his adversary, though he did not appear before him, but used only words as if they were javelins cast from afar, just as he had done before through the letter he had sent, calling him a new Diocletian; and by terrifying him with both—the punishments of the present age and of the future—he persuaded that wicked slave to flee. For, fearing the threats and giving the answer, "Behold, I concede to you the city, and all who are in it," he himself departed outside the borders of the city under the pretext of exercise.

XLIV. But not even then did the most valiant man let him go; but he pursued the fugitive as a soldier who had cast away his shield, seeking to take him for examination and to engage with him in single combat. He went, therefore, by the road that led there. But see for me the zeal of the athlete. For when his feet had suffered from the exercise and could not walk, he borrowed others’ feet and was led along, being carried ^D by others. Was his journey, then, empty and devoid of wonders? By no means; and most gladly would I have recorded them all, but since three things hinder—the length of the narrative, the weakness of my power of speech, and that I might not, by wishing to tell all, make you weary and sluggish in the things that are most important—I shall pass over most things and mention a few. A certain leper approaching him on the road, uttered a voice, which one formerly uttered to Christ—save that he called him Son, but this man called him the servant of God—and he asked to obtain healing. And leaving Him who is able to heal these things, have you approached a man who is subject to similar affections, asking for things that exceed his strength? "Nevertheless, if you believe that not only He, but also His servants are able to heal the same, there shall be healing for you through us also, as you have believed." As he then confessed these things and still more earnestly asked for the healing, pity and at the same time wonder entered the great man—pity for the disease, and wonder for the fervor of his faith; and turning, [he made] signs...

signaled to those who followed, that they should also lift their hands to heaven and appease the Divine with tears. Then, at his command, having washed his body in the sea and been cleansed (for it was not far off), he was shown to those present entirely whole. When they saw what had happened and received the healed man naked, what did they not do, what did they not say, what did they not feel? They marveled, they shouted, they gave glory, they were struck with amazement. Faith moved their tongue to thanksgiving, but wonder checked their speech and rendered them speechless in their astonishment. And, indeed, they had no words to say—whether concerning his faith, or the other's grace, or the power of God. All eyes were fixed on him alone, and there was one voice and one story: the leper and his cleansing. ^B In order that there might be more witnesses to this paradox, they arrive at the greatest temple of God and place the man upon a raised platform, doing as Zacchaeus did. For faith persuaded him, too, to climb the sycamore tree; and a similar fervor of the Spirit persuaded these men, in turn, to place the healed man on high. Who could tell the things that happened then on account of the great Daniel?

XLV.

XLVI.

even more provoked, said that he who tries to exacerbate the heavenly King stores up much greater evils for himself; and he added that before long he would fall from his reign, and would not escape the threats from above. Having said these things, he shook from his tunic any dust that might have remained, and departed with a confident heart. While these things were being reported to the Emperor, the tower of the palace fell down ^A of its own accord, just as if God wished to instruct the arrogant and insolent man through inanimate things. But as for what miracles were performed by the holy man as he arrived (for just as they followed him going out of the city, so too they followed him as he returned, with the power of God, as it were, escorting its servant, so to speak), having brought forward a few of these, for the sake of completeness, I will pass on to what remains.

XLVII. Two young men who were vexed by demons were first healed by him. Then another woman, of Canaanite faith, whose daughter was afflicted, and who ^B was pouring forth from her eyes tears that were witnesses to her inflamed soul, and was seeking healing through them, received her daughter back in health, and having obtained joy instead of grief, she returned home. Then, as the holy man was moving through the middle of the city, a certain patrician from the senate, who himself also imitated Zacchaeus, having received him into his house with fervent faith, also obtained a similar blessing. But after he was in the very great temple of God, and was staying together with the patriarch who had received him with great joy and honor, even here he performed miracles novel to others, but customary to himself. A serpent, which had crawled from somewhere ^C and had wrapped itself in its coils around the feet of the great Daniel, was a terrible sight; and when those who were present had rushed up to defend him, he reproached them for their timidity, while he himself, having threatened the serpent boldly and confidently, and having commanded it with great authority as if it were a servant: "Go," he says, "and betake yourself to your usual den and your subterranean hiding-places." And it, as if unable to gainsay him, immediately crawls to the wall and bursts asunder in the sight of all.

XLVIII. When the woman Rais had learned these things about the great Daniel—a woman of most fervent and pious faith, and of very ^D notable glory—she ran to him with a ready and eager mind, and in like manner to the harlot, she moistened his feet with her tears and entreated him with prayers that a son would be born to her. But when, cast down upon the ground, she saw the sole of his foot split from the practice of the tendon, she was amazed at his endurance and uttered words similar to the Canaanite woman. For, giving him a small cord, she asked that after he had wrapped it around his foot, he would return it to her, crying out that this was the sum of her petition. At first he did not consent; afterwards, however, moved by her tears, and besides bent by the words of the bishop and the others, he not only returned the cord to her after having wrapped it around his foot, but also signified that she would bear a son, and he foretold the

son's name, saying, "O woman, you shall call him Zeno." Such, then, was the holy man. But I will say nothing more; for it is clear that this is what happened, since nothing whatever failed of what was predicted by him. Because of the holy man, the emperor was afraid, and as he was altogether unwilling to oppose ^A him, he attempted to win him over by artifice and flattery. And since he could not persuade him to come to him, even after having asked him many times and through many people, he himself came to him; and in the guise of a servant he made obeisance, and laid hold of his feet, asking, as he pretended, to be granted forgiveness. But the saint (for who was more clear-sighted than he to see through such things?) then upbraided him with many reproaches. Later, he also revealed what was hidden from the many, saying that this humility and contrition was an artificial simulation, covering over, under a shaggy sheepskin, his severity and savagery; but that he would soon see the eye of God, which sees all things, and His mighty hand, which casts down even the ^B powerful. And when the saint had thus performed such great miracles, and had turned back and routed the enemy of God, and had settled the affairs of the Church well, and had even prophesied future events, he returned again to the column, and with a great and brave spirit took up his struggles and labors.

XLIX. Not much time passed, and Basiliscus was driven from the kingdom, as the prophecy of Daniel had foretold, and Zeno again held the scepter; and his predictions received their fulfillment. Zeno came to the great Daniel with his wife, seeing that the outcomes of the predictions were coming to pass, and intending to offer thanks worthy of the events. Now, as my discourse is seeking its end and desires to rest along with the life of the great man, let us dwell a little longer on his miracles. A man who was a goldsmith by trade had a child who had already reached his seventh year, yet ^C was not able to walk, but used his belly to move about, after the manner of creeping things. His parents took him and placed him before the column, and they themselves, while wailing piteously and tearfully below, provoked even those who saw them to tears. The saint, looking down from above, having quieted their grief, partly by rebuking them and partly by exhorting them, bade them persevere in the holy house of Symeon and make use of the venerable relics, and to apply these as a kind of release to the feet that were bound by the disease. He spoke, and it was done. And on the seventh day, when the prayer was being performed by the blessed one as was the custom (O Creator, worker of wonders!), they immediately see the child leaping, and climbing the steps of the column, and embracing the column.

L. Another man, traveling from the East, fell among robbers. They, having inflicted stripes upon him—to use the expression of Holy Scripture—took what he was carrying; and furthermore, having cut the sinews of his knees, they left him half-dead. Some travelers, having seen him lying there in this state, kindly picked him up and carried him to the neighboring city of Ancyra, and informed the bishop of the city of this, from whom

^A he was handed over to the care of many physicians. And although he received great attention from them, his wounds were healed, but he did not at all recover the ability to walk. For Daniel had not, in truth, yet grasped this holy anchor. Therefore, having persuaded the bishop with many tears to send him to the great Daniel (for he swore that this was the cause for which he had set out on his journey), he was carried to the saint like inanimate cargo placed upon beasts of burden. Then, having been placed at the pillar, what did he not say to move him to pity? What great lamentations did he not offer? He cried out, he wept, he pleaded with his hands, he recalled to [the saint's] memory with his eyes the journey he had undertaken on his account, and showed the evils he had suffered at the hands of the robbers. But here, consider with me how great a man he was, how averse to pride, and how he hated glory; and how, in fleeing honor, he applied as much effort as others do with greed to obtain glory. For so that others might attribute the healing to someone else, he sent them to the oratory of Symeon, even if the glory returned to him even more abundantly because of this. ^B But we must return to where we left off. For after he had been carried to the temple of Symeon, as he had been ordered, and was anointed daily with the oil taken from the relics, it was now the sixth day near dawn. As the great Daniel was standing for the morning chants, the same thing happened to this man as to the previous one; for suddenly he stood upon his feet, and ran up the steps, and embracing the pillar, he gave thanks to God and His servant. But why do I not mention something greater? A certain Hippasius, a centurion in authority and faith, just like the one celebrated in the Gospels—this man, then, if ever he saw any of his relatives, kin, children, or servants afflicted by disease, would seek only a written word from the saint. By placing the letter upon the sick person, he would immediately put the disease to flight as if it were a fugitive. Having mentioned one more [miracle], I shall proceed to the departure of the great man.

LI. A certain woman, having a son twelve years old who had been mute from birth—she, I say, having entered secretly and deposited her beloved child in the saint’s monastery, departed with good hope. ^D The monks therefore saw the boy, and having taken him, they led him to the saint. And he, having only seen him, ordered him to stay with them, to be a servant of God. But after they signified to the blessed one that the boy was mute, he ordered the child’s tongue to be anointed with the oil of the saints. Who could recount the things that followed thereafter? They suspected that the mother, out of poverty, had falsely claimed her son was mute so that the boy might be fed there. And approaching him, some tried to strike terror into him so that, being disturbed, he might speak. Others would prick the sleeping child with needles or sharp sticks, and suddenly rouse him from his sleep, so that he might cry out or speak something and be discovered. But he, although he himself wished to speak out of pain, had his tongue bound by the strong chain of his affliction.

was mute, speaking much to God with the mouth of his heart. The first and foremost of days arrived, and as the deacon was about, according to custom, to read the Gospel of Christ, when he first announced the name of the evangelist to the people, the boy, forestalling everyone, said with a pure and very loud voice, "Glory to you, O Lord"; and thenceforth, through the whole of the sacred ministry, he continued to chant and respond together with the people. Many other things, indeed, were accomplished by the great Daniel, which can neither be explained by words nor—for fear of satiety—contained by the ears. ^B

LII. But these things will suffice to show how rich he was in boldness toward God, and how great an intimacy he had with Him. I will say this one thing only, and as it were seal what has been said: that along with many and very great miracles, so great was his gentleness and moderation—and not merely moderation, but, as I may say with the divine David 10, contrition and supreme humility—that one would not admire him more for the working of miracles than for the fact that, while performing such things, he considered that he had nothing more than others. Nay, even while he excelled so greatly in virtue, he was exceedingly cautious and sparing when it came to judging the things of others. And in everything regarding God and matters beyond us, his teaching was so fearful and guarded that when, on a certain occasion, some people were prying into theology and proposing—allegedly with the backing of priests—certain absurdities, and were causing him trouble, he would say: "If the contention is about God, the choir of the apostles and the voices of the Fathers who theologized are sufficient for you, and there is no need to inquire further; but if you have a doubt about human affairs and priests, all these things must be left to the judgment of God and to those who have received such an administration from Him. As for us, it is enough to be shepherded by others and to look to our own affairs, rather than to cling to these superfluous and harmful questions." And these things are thus.

LIII. Now that the discourse has reached the end of the saint, it too is about to lapse into silence. But having said a few small things here before the end, I shall thus conclude the account. That prophetic man knew, along with all the other things, his own departure to the Lord, and he openly foretold this to his disciples. And when the appointed day was already drawing near, he left them a blessing in writing, just as some others leave their estates, and a scribe served him; such was his testament: "I," he says, "O children and brothers (for you are both: the one because I begot you spiritually, the other because God is the common Father of all), I am now going to this common Father. But I will not leave those dear to me as orphans, lamenting the absence of a father, but I leave them to the care of that Father who created me with you all. He, therefore, who fashions all things...

^A by His Word and wisdom, and then bowed the heavens and descended to the earth, and for our sake died and rose again, He himself shall be with you; as a wise one, guarding you from the evil one; as a Master, preserving you for His own will; and as a Father, if you should stumble in any way, kindly calling you back and spiritually spreading His arms to you; and as one who surrendered Himself to death for our sake, He shall join you to one another in harmony and ensure that you are one in the Spirit. Pursue humility, serve with obedience, love hospitality, fasting, vigil, poverty, and that which is the first and greatest of the commandments, love; hold fast to those things that pertain to piety, beware of the tares of the heretics, and do not be separated in the least from your mother, the Church. If you do all these things, you will be perfect in virtue.

LIV. These things he dictated with pious lips and ordered to be read to all the monks standing at the steps of the ladder ^B and lamenting his departure. It is said, moreover, that this vision was seen concerning him: namely, three days before his death, at the middle of the night, all the saints who have existed from the ages—prophets, apostles, martyrs, and finally all the holy ones—assembled and came to him, and they greeted the great man kindly and bade him celebrate the divine mystery. This he indeed celebrated, and he himself received the immaculate sacraments and imparted them to those for whom it was fitting. And already the great man was breathing his last, and the chief of the bishops himself (this was Euphemius, for Acacius was already dead) was present with others for his departure. ^C Also present was the most faithful Rais, and a certain man who was possessed by a demon was approaching the column; he openly signified by shouting the arrival of the saints to the holy man, and he called them by their names, and he also made mention of the angels who had arrived. Then he even added that at the third hour of this day Daniel himself would depart to the Lord, and the unclean spirit would be driven out from its dwelling of long duration. Both of these things came to pass at their proper time. ^D The previously mentioned Rais, however, was magnificently preparing the things that pertained to the burial; and having brought many craftsmen and having ordered a tomb to be made in the lower part of the base of the column all the way to its summit, she stationed men on either side of the tomb, who carried torches and held lamps in their hands and sang the chants that are customary at a passing. And when she had brought the body down, she placed it in a leaden coffin, preserving in this also the testament of the great Daniel. For he had commanded his disciples: "Whether emperors or any others contend with one another to surpass each other in the cost and magnificence of the coffin, do not accept it, but allow the body to be placed there and in such a way as the most faithful Rais may wish." These things, therefore, were accomplished, and the unclean demon was driven out after he had greatly rent the man.

LV. Furthermore, some other miracles were also accomplished. Three

miracles. For three crosses of stars are said to have appeared, even though it was day and the sun was shining most brightly, with the greatest beauty and radiance, and to have stood ^A above that precious coffin. Moreover, most white doves are said to have flown [above it], signifying the grace of the Spirit that was always with him. Thus, then, was the sacred body of Daniel committed by the hands of the first high priest, and upon him again were placed the relics of the three children who were in Babylon, the holy man having himself commanded this, so that those who approached might not worship his own relic so much as those placed upon it. Thus did the blessed stranger strive to be shown as a stranger to human glory even after his passing. Such was the life of the great Daniel from birth until his passing; such were his achievements. Having gone through every exercise and every manner of struggle, and having shone with so many works, and being full of days, both of human life and of the Spirit, he ended his life in a good old age, having reached eighty years and three months. ^B LVI. They say also that the hair of his head in the course of time grew so long that it was divided into four locks, and that its length extended to four cubits; and he had a thick beard, which was also divided into two. He having lived thus, rested; but to us he left his own life as a fair archetype, not only so that we might praise or even admire it, but that we might also imitate it to the best of our ability. For praise is carried to him alone; but imitation of the goods owed to him makes us also participants [in them] by the grace and loving-kindness of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power now and always, and unto the ages of ages. Amen. ^C

THE MARTYRDOM OF THE HOLY MARTYRS INDES AND DOMNA AND OF THE TWENTY THOUSAND HOLY MARTYRS WHO SUFFERED IN NICOMEDIA.

^A to break forth upon the pious, the affairs of the Christians nonetheless flourished, and were as if brightened in a most pleasant spring of piety. This spring was fostered by others of the orthodox who were superior to the times, and who openly sang the dogma of piety like cicadas; but before all others was that musical swallow of our Church, Cyril, who was celebrated for the rectitude of his faith and his freedom of speech regarding it. He adorned Nicomedia more by his manner of life than by his episcopal throne, and having a life that stood in harmony with his preaching, he maintained holy retreats and cared for ascetic houses, preserving those already established and building new ones alongside the old. Thus, the fire of piety was kindled—that fire of which the divine and royal voice says: “I came to cast fire upon the earth, and what do I wish if it be already kindled?” [Luc. XII, 49] This fire was so nurtured and grew strong that it even reached the palace itself, and persuaded many of those who were within it to abandon gold and wealth, which only serve to extinguish this fire, to place them into the hands of the poor, and to become wholly of Christ and of His portion.

II. When Maximian heard these things, ^B they were altogether intolerable to him; but because a double war had arisen for him—one that he himself was waging against piety, and another from certain tribes who had been stirred up against him—his mind was long distracted. Yet considering that it was fitting to finish the war against the Barbarians first, as being more formidable, he said that he would postpone the war against piety, but would return and safely move against it, and would teach well those who insulted the gods of his ancestors ^C not to behave so arrogantly against them at any other time. Having thus moved his lips, which were deceitful in his heart, and his tongue, which spoke great and arrogant things, he went out against the Barbarians; but the torch of the pious was kindled even more, and the soldiers of Christ were preparing for the battle-line. Among them flourished a vibrant and beautiful plant of piety, a virgin of great beauty named Domna, glorious and conspicuous, ^D who had been reared in the imperial chamber and had previously been consecrated by the impious emperor to those who are falsely called his gods, which were set up within the palace; she had been established as the first among the priestesses, and the leader of all the sacrifices and rites of the vain gods. But the good tree sought good soil, and the fruit-bearing olive longed to stand in the house of God and to yield useful fruit. She, therefore, as the word of faith was being spread abroad, hearing of the divine Scriptures and, through the aptitude of her mind, having seized the spark of piety, was shortly filled with spiritual love. Having received that book—of Paul, I mean, who embraced the whole world with his word—and the acts of the rest of the choir of the apostles, she perused them very diligently and attentively; and having recognized that the words were not only true, but also sweet, and—which is the greatest thing of all—beneficial to the soul, she was filled with every kind of emotion: she rejoiced, she was struck with wonder, and over her soul

it was being poured forth. ^A She rejoiced at the treasure she had happened upon; she was struck with wonder as she contemplated the faith of the Christians, accepting its love for truth and its natural affinity for virtue; and she was grieved as she calculated the loss she had suffered up to that point, regarding as deep night all that had preceded this.

III. ^B Being eager for this pious faith, and without any delay at all, she secretly summoned a certain daughter of one of the senators, a girl who was a Christian in name, but who was also herself a perfect virgin desiring to know the truth of the true worship and to use her as a guide toward piety; and having been most beautifully initiated by her in the mysteries, she hastened to baptism. At midnight, having eluded the awareness of everyone, she reached the high priest Cyril. And he, having melodiously chanted all the divine Scriptures to her, and then having sealed her with the venerable cross of Christ, at that time made her a catechumen and ordered the things that were customary to be performed by one of the pious deacons—his name was Agapius. She, however, applying herself to these things and simultaneously to fasting and prayer, was no less zealous to make her actions remain hidden than she was to perform them. ^C There was, therefore, no one who was aware of these things except for a single eunuch, who was similar to her in virtue, Indes by name, a barbarian by race—though his character was not barbarian, but rather gentle and mild, and one which revealed a great inner peace and tranquility. He not only ran toward the faith just as she did, but, when the occasion called for it, he was the first to offer himself unto martyrdom. Both of them, therefore, when the appointed time for baptism arrived, were found worthy and received the heavenly pearl, and thus the maiden, from her first birth, was quickly regenerated by a second, having not yet completed more than her fourteenth year.

IV. ^D When, however, the foundation had been strongly laid and she had already taken root in the unshakable rock, which is Christ, then she began to superadd other things, neglecting sensible food and drink and clinging rather to intellectual bread and divine words; furthermore, she sought not only how the things spoken might be fixed in her mind, but how they might emerge into action—or rather, she did not even require time for these things; for no sooner had she heard something from the divine Scripture than she immediately brought what she had heard into effect. Finding herself, then, at one point upon the divine book of the Acts of the Apostles, when she reached that passage of the discourse where those who were selling their possessions brought the prices and placed them at the feet of the apostles, she resolved to do this as well; and, having gathered all the gold and silver she possessed, as well as her precious apparel, she loaded them onto her own servants and departed by night, entreating the holy Cyril to receive these things, since she preserved an apostolic reverence for him, and requesting that he distribute them to the poor with his own hands. These things, indeed, having fulfilled her desire while no one knew...

she returned, and her accustomed chamber received her again.

V. Now, not long after, Cyril, her father in the spirit, departed to the Father and God of all, many marvelous things having concurred at the end of his life. But the blessed girl did not merely hear his admonitions; she hid them in the depths of her soul. Therefore, all the day long, she and Indes, who was like her in virtue, purifying their souls with fasting and occupied with prayer and holy discourses, remembered food only at evening. And their food was dry bread, and their drink was water; as for what they had been assigned to receive from the emperor, the stomachs of the poor enjoyed it, so that they might rightly practice both charity and abstinence at the same time. Doing so, they strove indeed to escape the notice of most; but it was not possible for a mountain to be hidden, or for a lamp to be placed under a bushel, or for a treasure to remain hidden in the earth. ^B But, in the manner I shall describe, having appeared, they became a saving example to the orthodox, but to the impious and the wicked a strong argument for their conviction; for they were so far from reaping the fruit of their virtue that they even sought punishments from them, and charged their abstinence upon them as a crime; for their piety was yet hidden, and they had not yet been apprehended by them.

VI. But when their fasting became manifest to the one who had the care of the expenses of the imperial court—when he ought to have admired their charity and been amazed at their abstinence—he proceeded rather to the scourge, and beating them long, he compelled them to say whither the things given to them went. ^C But when they, who had learned to hide their good deeds, endured these things with a brave and generous soul, preferring to die rather than to speak, lest the stream of charity flowing to the needy should be cut off, a certain eunuch of Persian race and impiety, approaching the prefect and slandering their virtue as a vice from the beginning, accused them, saying that they lived chastely, and abstained from foods, and gave to needy Christians what they received for food, and that what proceeded from the emperor for their support was becoming food for those who were opposed to the emperor. "If you wish to know more clearly," he added, "it is within your power to open their storage chest and by the things that appear, understand the things that are obscure." ^D The ruler heard this, and having gladly accepted the obvious proof, took the keys from them; and having opened it, he found straightway, not indeed what he himself had hoped, but things truly venerable: the likeness of the divine Savior, and a holy book, the God-pleasing Acts of the Apostles, and, along with these, the destitution of those who were storing up a great treasure in the heavens. Its splendid wealth consisted of two mats laid upon the bare ground, the magnificent furnishing of the truly noble and blessed Domna and Indes, and besides, an earthen censer, a lamp, and a wooden little chest in which they kept the holy oblation, whose

^A contents the pious eunuch having taken, asked where the gold was for them, and the sumptuous clothing, and the other elegant and magnificent equipment. But since they, paying no heed to his questions, stood silent, he delivered them to be tortured. But even so, he was shown to be striking the adamant in vain, for he heard absolutely nothing from them. That holy book, however, and the little chest as well, as being of no use to him, were left behind by him there in the storeroom. He ordered them to be locked up elsewhere until he could report to the emperor. The virgin, then, as she was being led out of the storeroom, having escaped the notice of all, took up the book skillfully (for it was small and such as could easily be hidden) and wrapped it in her garment; and along with her, the admirable Indes lifted the wooden vessel, and thus they were led away and shut up. To them, thus imprisoned for a long time, the bread of life alone was nourishment, and the drink of divine grace was their potion. Yet what the body was forced to partake of, they were so deprived of that they could not obtain even water; for this was the command of the cruel prefect, so that they, who had filled the bellies of the needy, might be destroyed by such a famine, and by his cruelty pay the penalty for their philanthropy. ^B

VII. Such, then, was the severity of the cruelty and the unbearableness of the suffering, that the virgin fell into a sickness, as her youthful body could not withstand such hardship. But it was not possible that He should overlook them for long, to whom both the birds and the beasts belong. But it was night; and there stood by the powers of the heavenly angels, who, having shone upon them with much light and filled a table with food, departed again into heaven. They immediately partook of what was set before them, recalling none of the painful things that had gone before; and exhilarated partly by the splendor of those that appeared, and partly by the pleasure of those that were offered, they sang out that Davidic verse ^C very opportunely: "My soul is filled with fat and fatness, and with lips of exultation my mouth shall give praise." Now the day had already come; and the prefect also arrived on the pretext of learning if they were overcome by the famine, so that he might thus use them as submissive ones. But when he saw the contrary, that they were cheerful and graceful to behold, and much more graceful in soul, having abandoned the use of force—as it was of no avail with them—he proceeded to persuasion. And feigning gentleness, he ordered that they should thenceforth pass their time free from evils and partake to satiety of what was needed, I mean of food and money, and indeed of clothing no less than before. But the virgin did not need money and garments; she did indeed need them, but not for herself, but for the sake of the poor; to whom, breaking up even her garments, she distributed them; and as she judged it to be necessary for the body ^D

^A of a dear nurse to satisfy their hunger, being caught by perplexity, and having nothing to spend that would suffice for such a multitude, she looked to her own stores, and that girdle which was heavy with stones and pearls, and whatever else was adorned with gold and silver—all these she gathered into a bundle, and let them down through the window, and sent them to a certain pious deacon, whose name was Agapius, and asked him to sell them, and divide the gold that would come from them among the poor. ^B It is impossible to say what a multitude of poor this sufficed for food, nor how many of the rich she provoked, by her own imitation, to bring aid to the needy. But since it was not fitting that one who was so chaste, and who was pursuing every other virtue, and who was flowing with such a great stream toward beneficence, should dwell in the tabernacles of sinners and in royal courts, this also was ordained from above. And consider, indeed, how wise the dispensation is.

VIII.

^A This they requested for themselves, desiring to be freed from all trouble; but God brought it about that what the virgin intensely desired succeeded according to her own wish. For they did not know—as the saying goes—that they were putting a horse into the field and a dolphin into the water. When the prefect heard these things, desiring himself also to be freed from this burden, he immediately sent for the holy Anthimus (this man was then bishop of Nicomedia after Cyril). He, having arrived immediately and as one who had received from God the knowledge of what is in the depths of the heart, knew by the Spirit the state of the virgin; and, having perceived how deep a wisdom lay hidden under the pretense of madness, he himself stood silent. And the virgin, having similarly seen the hierarch, displayed nothing further that was frantic or maddened, but, as if she were awed by his very countenance, she remained moderate and calm, so much so that those present were astonished, reflecting on how much power the mere sight of a holy eye possesses. ^B The prefect then requested the bishop to take the virgin, and with her also Indes, and to commit them both to honorable keeping in one of the holy houses, and he offered money sufficient for food and bodily needs. He received the people most gladly, but he did not accept the money; rather, he sent them to a certain monastery—it is impossible to say how glad they were that the transfer had turned out according to their mind.

^C IX. Now at that time, trophies of victory had been erected for Maximian against his enemies, as God himself was wisely opening the way toward salvation, so that, having looked for whose hand these things had been rightly accomplished, he might recognize the truth. But that man, being utterly blinded in these matters and attributing the victory to the help of gods falsely so called, was so far from giving thanks to the true God that he even hastened to wage war against God; and having cast other matters aside, he armed himself with an eager spirit against the Christians, holding festivals and sacrifices for the demons—even if at first, putting on the fox’s skin, he insinuated himself by gifts and honors into the benevolence of the crowd and wanted his wickedness to seem right. ^D Therefore, a most densely populated theater was assembled by him, and this contest against the Christians was not held openly before their eyes, but was arranged with much obscurity, deceit, and malice. For those idols, which were honored by the impious with gold, but which granted them in return a pit of destruction—those golden ones, and as many as were again made of silver, the impious man brought forth and placed on royal thrones, and crowned them with garlands, and finally, sacrificing bulls to them, he commanded the execrable priests to sprinkle the crowds, taking advantage of the opportune moment. For the people were then gaping at the pleasant performances of the theater. Therefore, as many as were firm in piety and who had the things of the Christians clothed not only upon their names, but also in their hearts, these, having detected what was happening and

not even enduring the very sight of an unholy theater, chose nobly to shed their own blood rather than to be defiled with such blood. But to those for whom pleasure and relaxation were of greater value, these were defiled in both soul and body, storing up for themselves most grievous punishments for a moderate pleasure, alas.

X. But Maximian, who was driven with his whole soul’s impulse toward impiety, no longer wishing to act impiously in secret, but openly, held these discourses before those who were gathered, which indeed reeked of the most grievous impiety. "Whither are you going, O men?" he said, "preferring darkness to light, and not thinking them to be gods, upon whom all this universe depends? Do you not see the victories and the trophies? Do you not see a multitude of good things added to good things, and how those which exist are well and securely established, while others are added daily, and those of which we were not previously masters, we now possess the sovereignty over? Is not glory increasing? Is not the empire expanding? Are not cities—some tributary, others yet to be, and some already captured, while others are even now about to be captured? Are not the kings of the nations reckoned in the place of slaves? Does not everything turn out according to our will? By whose providence, then, do these things come to pass? Let the temperings of the seasons, the moderation of rains, the abundance of fruits, or rather the whole time producing fruits and all things looking toward prosperity, persuade you."

XI. As he was speaking thus with prolific tongue, and falsely attributing the things that are to those that are not, and desiring to string together further things besides, He whose judgments are true and justified did not permit falsehood to boast any longer against the truth, so that it might not become a cause of destruction for others who were easily inclined to perversion. But while he was speaking, the day being clear and the sun burning in the midday region, suddenly a great sound of thunder crashed, and fire broke forth from the clouds; and at the same time, deep darkness, and thick hail with violent winds, and this horrible evil, almost uttered a voice that it was the grave wrath of God stirred to anger. For some, struck in ears and soul by the thunder alone, fell to the ground there half-dead; while others rushed into flight, but fared much more grievously by being trampled upon by one another, and thus found a violent end to their life. The impious emperor himself also almost perished, likely to perish perhaps, had not God judged it to be a lesser punishment than that which he was worthy to suffer. Yet God did not stop the terrors at the things which have been said, but rivers also, flooding with the force of their waters, having rooted up the crops, delivered the labors of the farmers to the sea, and this while it was summer, and while much abundance was hoped for. But to reach the soul of Maximian and to persuade

^A him to repent of his impiety, what happened was very light and small. For that Maximian himself had been in no way affected, the facts at hand will better show. For having later sought the list in which the names of those serving the first of the falsely named twelve gods were inscribed, since Domna and Indes were not found with the others, he was filled with both sorrow and anger, and inquired very earnestly how their situation stood.

XII. But when he heard from the arch-eunuch that Domna’s mind was deranged, and that she was now with those who know how to treat such cases, and that Indes was also with her for the sake of watching and service, he, already fermenting with rage and shouting aloud, said, "O worst of men, ^B perhaps you have not wrongly removed from the ministry of the gods Domna, who was beset by a demon; but what possessed you to also remove Indes together with her, he being a worshiper of the great gods, and as far as it depended on you, to leave them deserted of service? But I swear by the gods themselves that you will by no means escape the just penalty for this daring act." He spoke, and he did not neglect it, but ordered that the duty of looking after the camels, which were in the region of the Claudiopolitans, be handed over to him, stripping him of the authority of the prefecture and leading him into the ^C deepest disgrace. Then he also ordered Indes to be brought and to perform again the things customary toward the gods. But he, having come forward, performed what was usual in truth, and told the gods and goddesses and their priests to farewell, or rather to go to perdition, while he himself attended only to God, occupying himself in prayers and fastings, and not only not yielding in anything to their impiety, but also calling many of those who had been deceived to the knowledge of the truth. For a word is enticing to persuasion when it also has a life harmonious with it; just as Indes had, and for this reason he brought many to God, and was in truth a divine salt, both keeping himself together and being able to keep others together. But such were the things concerning him. But to Maximian it was ^D intolerable to appear to have overcome all barbarians and to frighten tens of thousands of the masses by his look alone, yet to be defeated by his own, and that while they were so young and yet imperfect in age.

XIII. Therefore, having gradually discarded whatever semblance of humanity he had, he was openly fighting against Christ, destroying sacred temples and rebuilding houses for demons, and sending prefects—terrible in speech and cruel in punishing—throughout the whole inhabited world, to whom their own cruelty against the Christians was not enough, but the emperor's harshness was also added. For he gave orders to yield nothing to disobedient Christians, but to punish them in such a way as if his own eyes were examining with them and watching the severity of the tribunal, the curiosity in examining, the innovation and vehemence in punishing, saying that he would be most pleasing to him who would inflict the most punishments upon the Christians. Thus he sent off the prefects, having inflamed them; but in truth he himself also

^A offered himself as an archetype of inhumanity. For he was the first to kill, to punish, to cut down, to drive away; what violent and tyrannical act did he not perform? Indeed, he often brought to bear not mere force alone, but tempered it with persuasion, dangling it like a lure, so that he might become all the more savage and find more reasonable excuses for punishment, because the pious would not consent to be persuaded by words alone. When he had searched for a long time for the most holy Anthimus and had not found him, he himself entered the church like some dappled and guileful beast, having surrounded it with a multitude of troops and bodyguards. Then, putting on the mask of gentleness, so that some might be struck with fear by the multitude and the power, while others, looking upon the feigned benevolence, might be enticed by persuasion—and thus, as if with two strong chains, fear and persuasion, he might bind the pious and lead them captive to impiety—having considered such things, he began to address the multitude in this way.

XIV. ^B I, too, against barbarous nations which refuse to bear my yoke and do not obey the Roman laws, do not immediately brandish the spear, nor do I use javelins, nor do I bring upon them slaughter by the sword; but I imitate good physicians, softening the swelling with soft and kind words, just as with oil. Then, when I see that they are quite incurable and that the ulcer is festering and very deep, only then do I use a cautery and a cutting, so harshly and painfully that it might never appear that anyone was more humane than I at the beginning, or more violent after mercy and gentleness. But far be it that you should ever experience me when I have reached my end and am in a state of anger; but draw near, pour libations to the great gods, and implore them to look upon you with favorable eyes, that so there may also be present ^C to you from us honors, magistracies, and wealth, and that you may be among the first of my friends and associates. For how is it not absurd that while barbarians of a different tongue endure our ways with such equanimity, you, who have been reared in the Roman laws, educated in the learning of the Greeks, and are my subjects, should not keep obedience in all things, but be seen to be disobedient in the most important matters and openly wage war against your own emperor, so that you are cast out from the emperor’s benevolence and generous munificence? Depart, therefore, depart from this false religion; depart! But if not, retribution is not far off. Behold this house ^D in which you trust: by consigning it to the fire, I shall destroy you along with it, and you shall know in every way how great an evil is irrational boldness and the stubbornness of the mind.

XV. While the terrible Maximian thus joined humanity to inhumanity and varied his speech with threats of evils and promises of good things, Glycerius the wise, who was in truth a divine offerer of sacrifices and a priest, and who strove to offer up his very words as a sacrifice to the Christ to whom he was sacrificing

^A a brief and timely response, and bound the tongue of Maximian, disturbed and shook his mind, and simultaneously filled his soul with the anger of astonishment. For he said: "Neither do we desire your promises and gifts, O emperor, nor do we pay any heed to your threats. For as for your desires, however many they may be or of what kind, how could they charm the soul of those who hold all worldly pleasures as equivalent to dreams? And what evil could you threaten against those who consider it a greater loss not to suffer the harshest things for the sake of Christ? Moreover, what you say, and what you boast of—I mean the trophies against the nations—these will be on our side rather, and will join in with my own words. For when you, who have conquered the multitude, are soon to be clearly defeated by weak women and children—those who follow the way of the Christians, I mean—how then will the power of my Christ not be much more manifest? And beyond this, who is so thunderstruck and foolish as to immediately forget the thunders and lightnings that occurred a short while ago, and that terrifying divine sign, the violent deaths, the near submergence, and the destruction of the fruits, and to attribute these to your gods, rather than to the true God who, O emperor, ^B timely brings wrath upon those who honor and worship them? Do not, therefore, be so confident in the war against us; we also have weapons from above, by which, just as your satellites are protected by you today, so we are protected by the King of the universe, through which we will even marshal ourselves against you and will win a most miraculous victory. For being struck we will destroy, and falling we will set up the trophy against you."

XVI. ^C The emperor heard these things, and as if pierced to the midpoint of his heart by the cutting of his words, and intending for the present to conceal the passion within the secret thoughts of his soul, he went out of the temple without saying or doing anything more. That pious people, however, gave glory to God, and individuals, approaching the wise Glycerius, offered such voices as these: "How sweet are your words to my throat, more than honey to my mouth!" But Maximian was not destined to hold his anger for long; rather, seething within himself, he persuaded his soldiers to seize Glycerius as he was going to the church and to drag him off to him. ^D When he had been brought to his tribunal, without asking him anything, he ordered him to be beaten with ox-hide scourges so violently that the strength of those beating him gave out, and the voice of him who was being scourged failed. And he ordered a herald to add these words to him as he was being beaten: "Spare your tongue, Glycerius. Do not be boastful, nor seditious, nor insolent. Honor the customs of the Romans, revere the emperors." Thus did Maximian command. But he neither persuaded him by torturing him, nor abashed him by chanting such things; rather, the martyr, being superior both to the hands of the executioners and to the voices being chanted, sought his own King, and with whatever he had left of voice and strength, he called for the help from thence, saying: "Lord Jesus Christ, just as you strengthened me to speak for you, so too strengthen me to suffer for you,"

that with the addition of these painful things, a greater reward and recompense might be mine." This, like fire added to fire, kindled Maximian’s rage even more. He himself spurred on those who were striking to beat him until the martyr’s body lay upon the ground no different from inanimate things, the blood already drained away, the skin swollen by the wind, the flesh itself having been eaten away beforehand, and only the bare bones appearing. This indeed moved to pity not only pious and humane souls, but even the minds of the infidels—but not Maximian, whose soul was harder than stone. ^A

XVII. But when he saw Glycerius in such a state, differing little from the dead, yet moving his tongue alone with a fervent spirit and saying: "I am a Christian, a servant of Christ, who alone is the true God; one is my Lord, one my Master, one my King." Unable to endure that freedom of speech, he ordered him to be unbound from his chains, led outside the city, and to undergo death by fire. ^B The noble man, therefore, led to the appointed place and standing toward the east, partly gave thanks to Christ who had rescued him from many traps, and partly prayed fervently for himself and for the pious who were everywhere. Then, when he had applied the sign of Christ to his own body, he was fastened to the wood, a holy victim, a spotless ram for Him who was fastened to the wood for our sake. And with the fire kindled beneath, he was offered up as a whole burnt offering to Jesus, an acceptable sacrifice, a divine offering befitting the heavenly altar of Christ. ^C What then followed? Did Maximian perceive from these things the immutability of the pious? Far from it! But as those abominable sacrifices of his were being led to the temple of the twelve gods, which was inside the palace, the impious were indeed present, celebrating the feast of their own destruction in white and magnificent garments. Indes alone, clad in black, and feeling intense pain at what was taking place, had shut himself up in a very dark little dwelling, lamenting the destruction of the impious. ^D

XVIII. These things were also reported to the emperor; and he was immediately seized by him and brought before that judge to be sentenced. And as his clothing signaled even before he spoke that what was happening was worthy of mourning and sorrow for him, he ordered him to be kept in prison, with chains thrown upon his hands and feet, and a locked collar placed about his neck. The prison therefore held Indes; but Maximian was searching for Domna as well, and as if his reason had been damaged by frenzy as by drunkenness, and having forgotten what he had heard concerning her, said incessantly: "Where is Domna? Where is the priestess of Diana and Minerva?" Once again, therefore, they told him from the beginning what appeared to have happened to the virgin, and they made known to him just as it happened what the eunuch had done. He, however, having said much...

^A regarding his annoyance that he was kept alive at all, ordered his head to be cut off, and the virgin to be sought out in the ascetic houses and saved for his gods. When the superior of the ascetic house, in whose care the holy one was, learned of this, she formed a most manly resolve; she adorned the virgin with male haircut and clothing, and providing her with prayers and tears as guardians of the road, and guides for the holy chamber, she sent her away in secret.

XIX. But the wicked [persecutor] did not cease his search, and being at a loss against all, he raged against the ascetic houses in common. All the sacred holy places were cruelly destroyed, and the virgins were shamefully handed over to abuse—virgins, alas! whom it was not tolerable should ever be seen even by the eyes of men. And the calamity was such throughout all things as if a city were being captured by enemies. Those among them whose bodies were strong, and neither old age nor any infirmity hindered their feet, they immediately looked to flight, and they hurried with haste to the mountains and caves and hidden wastelands, choosing to live with beasts rather than to dwell with men, who were far more savage than beasts, and who deemed it no indecency to offer abuse to bodies that had practiced virginity. But you were truly deceived, O enemy of all, in your scheme; and through those things by which you hoped to exercise tyranny, through these very things your tyranny was overthrown. For God, who was born of a Virgin, did not neglect to preserve these virgins even in the midst of the executioners, and just as with the faith, so too did He not allow them to betray their continence. ^B Among them, just as among bright and shining stars, one shone wonderfully like the moon, excelling the others in beauty, birth, and virtue. She was called Theophila; but this was demonstrated far more by her deeds.

XX. For as she was so very beautiful in appearance, and was being dragged by the executioners, and was already being violently ushered into the workshop of abuse, raising her hands and eyes at the same time and looking up to heaven with great sorrow, "My Jesus," she said, "my love, my lover, my light, my breath, my guardian of chastity and of life, see her who is betrothed to You; see, O blameless bridegroom, and hasten, for there is not even time for praying to You. Let me not be deceived in my confession; do not betray me to the beasts; let not the wolves tear your lamb to pieces. Preserve purity, O fountain of purity, so that Your name may now be glorified ^C all the more, the name that is also intellectually glorified by the angels." She prayed these things with tears, but God brought them to pass. But we must be attentive to the narrative. The virgin is introduced into the place of shame; but she, even in such a place and time, did not forget the things that were fitting; but immediately drawing out what she had in her bosom—and that was the most holy Gospel—she opened it and began to read. But one of the intemperate men, seized by a mad impulse, entered to her, and for a while, he listened as she was reading. But as he was already near, he was immediately seized by immeasurable fear, and strongly shaken by trembling, and he was cast to the ground like a dead man. ^D

And he lay thus at the feet of Theophila, not breathing. Many hours passed, and it seemed to the others, since he did not come out, that he could not sate his desire for the virgin. When another also entered, he too, having arrived near, was illuminated by an unutterable light; then, darkness followed the light, and having been blinded in his sight, he sought, while wandering about, not the virgin any longer, but rather how he might get out of the door without stumbling. ^B

XXI. Since many had suffered such things, and some even more horrific things, it was no longer in anyone’s heart to enter; but if ever anyone did enter, he did not do so caught by love, but only wishing to know what had occurred. When many had entered, they saw what was both terrible to look upon and most paradoxical to relate to others: the girl sitting modestly and absorbed in her book, and a certain youth standing near her, radiating flashes like lightning from his eyes with an unutterable light and an incredible beauty. When they saw these things, they were frozen with fear, and late and with difficulty, they cried out, "Who is the God like the God of the Christians?" And at the same time, unable to bear the sight, they hurried to flee, and with great speed left the house, all of them having forgotten their lust, and some even having abjured their impiety itself. But Maximian was not unaware of these things; rather, having learned that the virgin was invincible, even by the soldiers who were guarding her, and that many of his own men had been conquered and had been taught to worship God piously, he ascribed the grace of God to sorcery, saying that the Christians used tricks to deceive the masses. ^C But he, in saying these things, was deceiving himself more, along with all who attended to such nonsense.

XXII. That one, however, who was full of light and who appeared to be standing by the maiden, having led her out of the house, went before her, guiding her with his own light. Then, having brought her as far as the holy church, he placed her in the vestibule, and having said, "Peace be to you," he departed and went his way. She was seized by both fear and joy: fear, because he had left her; but joy, because she had so escaped the hands of the debauched, having suffered nothing unseemly. Approaching, therefore, she knocked on the door, for the people were already gathered and were performing the nocturnal singing to God ^D as was their custom. When one of the deacons perceived the noise of the doors, and learned who it was, he reported it to those inside the church. Therefore, all flowed toward her; for she was, in any case, of distinguished family, as we have heard, but much more distinguished in virtue. Having seen her, and having understood from whom she had escaped and what those debauched men had wanted, and what great miracles God had performed against them through her, what fountains of tears did they not stir up? What voices did they not send up to God, at the beginning pitying the virgin for her abduction, but in the end calling the impious ones wretched, and honoring her with every manner of blessing? She, meanwhile, cast herself to the ground and…

^A touches the holy chancel screen, and weeps so vehemently that she moves even those who saw her to a similar affection and to a flow of tears; and a common thanksgiving to God arises from the whole heart. But such and so were the matters of the virgin.

XXIII. It was necessary, however, that the wicked Maximian have wicked ministers, and, as they say, from the same earthen vessel. Whosoever, therefore, while piously worshipping God, remained hidden from Maximian, these men—like hunting dogs—tracked them down and denounced them. They, indeed, kindled his wrath against Dorotheus—Dorotheus, who was illustrious in glory and civil dignity (the Italians know how to call this position "praepositus"), but even more illustrious in piety. Against him, therefore—and Mardonius, and Mygdonius, and the aforementioned Indus, and certain others who were most fervent in their faith in Christ but celebrated for the honor they held from the emperor—they launched the arrows of calumny. These are men, surely, whose teeth are arms and arrows, and whose tongue, to speak with the Holy Scripture, is a sharp sword (Ps. lvi, 5). ^B They said, "O Emperor, if you cannot subdue these servants of yours who dwell in your own palace and are your subjects, why do you attempt to persuade others, laboring to no purpose and tormenting yourself in vain? For they could hardly be led away from their dogma, seeing as they laugh at us and hold the severity of your tribunal as nothing. ^C Behold, to what extent their contempt proceeds: not only do they themselves despise those who think differently, but they also provide food for others of like mind who are in hiding, and they spur them on to the struggles. Furthermore, they send letters to those who are distant, at once strengthening them in their opinion and encouraging them to constancy. And, moreover, whatever your power might devise against them and the religion they hold, it is immediately made known to them through these same men."

XXIV. Maximian was inflamed to anger by this, and, faster than a word could be spoken, he commanded the holy men to be brought to him. And they stood by, fearing nothing, nor displaying any trace of fear on their faces. ^D He, looking upon them with very fierce eyes, said, "O most wretched, most ungrateful of all men, why, having obtained such great splendor from us, and having been entrusted almost alone with the imperial scepters, have you been found so evil towards your benefactor? You, who instead of the many benefits you have received from us, repay us with such thanks, ascribing to yourselves and proclaiming to others a certain Jesus as king, and diligently hiding the leaders of this new religion, and providing for them with every zeal, and fostering those whom I had reckoned it to be my most beautiful and first trophy to utterly destroy and to leave not even their name remaining? Or are these things not true, or are they not established by deeds rather than by words?" But they, paying not the slightest heed—as if to a barking dog—and not even deeming it a time to answer

stood in silence. ^A Maximian, being still more irritated by their silence, let his anger flare even further. "By the immortal gods," he said, "I shall not spare you, but after bringing upon you every kind of torture, consuming your flesh, crushing your bones, and burning you with fire, I shall leave you unburied as food for dogs and birds, thus punishing you according to your deserts and striking fear into others, so they may not attempt the same."

XXV. Nor did these things bring fear upon the saints; rather, immediately loosening their belts and casting off their cloaks, they stood ready for the course of martyrdom, with one mouth and one mind boldly naming themselves Christians and servants of Christ. Then they said also to Maximian: "To us, O tyrant, the honors and these ^B vain dignities of yours have never been of the slightest concern. For what need could there be of such honor, which, separating one from God, is destined to bring one into servitude to demons? Such are your gifts, you impious ones, which we not only shun—far from pursuing them—but we yield to you not only these, but we even abandon our very bodies and lives." Since they were thus prepared and such was their spirit, Maximian ordered them to be stretched out, with hands and feet extended, and to be struck forcefully with cruel ox-hide whips. And immediately, six executioners stood around each one of them and beat them continuously for a great part of the day; the wretches, moved by no pity for our common ^C nature, even as they saw the earth stained deep purple by their blood. But the martyrs bore these things bravely, not even emitting a cry; but with the inner movements of the soul, they glorified Him for whom they were enduring these things. The prison succeeded the lashes, as their necks were bound with collars, their hands with chains, and their feet fastened in the stocks. Maximian, however, like a torrent rushing through the cornfields, was now proceeding against all the pious in succession. And the governors and prefects, who were preeminent in impiety, were ordered to assist in these things. Whoever obeyed his command—if they confessed that Christ was God—was at once delivered ^D to the torturers and miserably torn apart by various torments. And thus, daily, rational sacrifices, rendered holocausts by pious martyrdom, were being offered to Him who sacrificed Himself for us.

XXVI. And it was necessary, then, that for the greatest of feasts, the Nativity of Christ, even more abundant sacrifices should be offered to Him who was born. For this feast of the birthday of Christ was being celebrated, and all that was pious was gathered for glorification. But the profane ministers of the profane Maximian, approaching him, said: "Since, O Emperor, on this day the Christians celebrate the greatest of the feasts they know, as they fabulously claim that their God was born today, and with a most celebrated throng of all the people they assemble for the festival, come now, let not the prey escape us from the midst of the seine; but let the entrances of the temple be occupied by soldiers, and let an altar stand before the gates, and let heralds, standing by, command all to depart from the temple, and nothing

all those who are hesitating to offer sacrifice at the altar. But ^A if they do not obey, it is for your ^B imperial power and judgment to decide what is to be done next. And if you permit us to say this too, let the soldiers surround the temple with fire, and let them straightway destroy those who have not obeyed. And thus you will remove from the midst those who bring ruin upon your people in essential matters; and you yourself will be freed from the anxiety that presses upon your soul, not insignificantly, as we are well aware." The speech had not yet reached its end when Maximian, taking it up, said: "I swear by the greatest gods, I have long revolved these things in my mind. I know not, indeed, why it has come to pass that I have not yet put into action the things I had thought of. But I give great thanks to you, O gods, that you have brought it about that these things have also come to his mind, ^C as is expedient." And at the same time he orders that the leaders of the guards, having surrounded the church with a large force of soldiers, and having gathered and placed in a circle around the temple brushwood and every other piece of material that is easily ignited, should set up an altar at the gate of the temple. Then, that the heralds, with a loud voice, should proclaim that all must come out and approach the altar to offer sacrifice. But if they did not obey, they were to close the doors securely upon them, and having blocked every other exit, were to ignite the fire, that thus all might perish together with the temple itself, and be consumed by fire as they deserve. And these things, indeed, the emperor commanded.

XXVII. The messenger is sent straightway to the church, to say what had been ordered by the emperor. Coming into the midst, therefore, and crying out with a loud voice: "O men," he said, "Maximian, the master of the world, having sent me to you, gives you the choice of two things: either sacrifice to the gods (for the altar is prepared, and is present), or, if you do not obey, all perish together; for the fire is ready. Choose, therefore, as quickly as you wish." He ceased, having said these things. But the archdeacon of the church, his heart being inflamed by the fire of divine grace, standing at the corner of the altar, said: "O most beloved brothers, and like-minded with me and one another, do you not know how just now, even we ourselves, reciting the story of the three children, could not tell how we admired their bravery, and were struck with wonder at their fortitude in piety, and how, not as if standing in the midst of fire, but as if dancing in some soft meadow, they themselves were singing a hymn, and calling upon all created nature to praise the God of all? We not only judged them blessed, but we also desired to become ^D partakers of their crowns. Since, therefore, the time now calls us, and the manner of the emperors is similar (for even if they differ in their names, yet in cruelty and impiety they agree perfectly), let us too become similar in piety to those who struggled then. For how would it not be absurd that they, being boys and not more than three, and having otherwise not yet received any example of greatness of soul in defending piety, stood so gloriously in the struggle, while we, being a multitude and not to be numbered, but also...

^A many to whom nothing is lacking for a perfect age, and who have even such a wealth of examples, should appear to be lovers of this life, and of a cowardly and abject spirit, and not seize the opportunity offered as a gain, and despise this present, temporal life for God, who made us and gave His own soul for us unto death, and offer our own death as a testimony of our firm and unbreakable faith? I say this even if there were no reward at all for us. But since the sufferings of this present time are very small if they are compared with the rewards that are there; and life indeed is void of trouble and eternal, in return for this brief and laborious one; and glory is never-ending, in return for that which is faithless and easily falls away; and riches which cannot be stolen, and pleasure which never passes into trouble—shall we still desire to remain in our present state, and not rather find an opportunity to attain the glory that is there by undergoing death for Christ, and as soon as possible undergo it? And doing anything other than this, by those who are wise, shall we not be judged worthy to be lamented? Remember—nay, rather, look to the altar. For our true Lord was sacrificed for us. Shall we not also pour out our souls for Him in the holy place, and offer them unto that fire as a kind of sacrifice for a burnt offering?

XXVIII. When he had said this, he incited everyone and caused them to be seized with a vehement desire to die. Therefore, together with him they all exclaimed that blessed voice: "We are Christians, Christians, and we will not worship your gods, O emperor." These things were indeed reported to Maximian; but he, not even waiting for the end of the speech, ordered fire to be kindled against them, and for them to be burned together with the temple ^B, so that no one of them might obtain mercy or escape by hiding. The pious, however, when they had gathered together all the catechumens, both men and women and children, and had divided them into four parts—inasmuch as the time demanded ^C haste—they perfected them with divine baptism, and anointed them with chrism, and imparted to them the immaculate sacraments. Immediately the ministers of the emperor were also present, and they were kindling the fire; and it was being carried aloft from every side; and when it had encompassed the whole church, it ascended into a single peak, consuming everything both outside and inside. The evil therefore raged most violently; but they within were crying out to God with a great voice, and were singing the song of the children, calling upon all created nature to take part in the dance; nor did they cease to glorify Him before the offered sacrifices were accepted, chaste victims, by the Lamb who was slaughtered for the world.

XXIX. Five days had passed, and the fire was consuming the material. But when the flame had now ceased, ^D there was not even a foul odor sensed, neither from the bodies nor from the smoke; but rather there breathed a certain sweet and wondrously fragrant odor. And there appeared a certain ray, bearing before it the appearance of glittering gold,

as the sun shines. Maximianus, however, thinking that he had already mastered all things and that he was released from the cares of the contest, regaled his eyes with theaters, and with the races, both of horses and of men. But this was not to conquer, but rather to be conquered, and it further emboldened the pious to speak freely. The following events will demonstrate this. ^A Before the theater, there had been built a very large temple to Demeter, who was the greatest goddess among them. And he, passing by there with all the people and the army, was performing the abominations of the sacrifices. Now one of the military order, Zeno by name, breathing zeal against the impious, and unable to bear seeing piety thus insulted, stood on a high place and said: "You are being deceived, O Emperor, by sacrificing to insensible stones and mute pieces of wood; for this is what is apparent. But that which is truly and understood to be the case is the fraud of demons, which leads its worshippers to destruction. Understand, O Maximianus, and lifting both these eyes and those within to heaven, seek the Creator from the things that are seen; learn from the works what kind of craftsman He is, and learn to worship God piously, taking pleasure not in the blood and the savor of irrational animals, but in the pure souls and holy hearts of men." ^B

XXX. When Maximianus heard this, he ordered that his jaws be shattered with the weight of stones, and at the same time he shouted to the executioners to strike with more force, and to the holy man, not to insult the gods. Thus, as the holy man suffered, all his teeth were inhumanly knocked out, his jaws were shattered, and when he was already breathing but little and was on the verge of dying, he ordered him to be led outside the city and his head, which had spoken so freely, to be cut off with a sword. And thus the most noble Zeno, having with great speed completed the blessed stadium of martyrdom, was beheaded and taken up to Christ, the Head of all. The sacred chorus also that was around Dorotheus, being trained by such a good master—by the divine Anthimus, I mean—was not destined to have its heads remain uncrowned in this manner; but these things also were arranged by divine grace from above. And letters from the holy Anthimus were sent to them, while he himself was hiding in a certain village, but he was helping them, as they were struggling openly, to undertake their contests strenuously by his prayers. ^C When this became manifest to the satellites of the lawless emperor, they brought both the letters themselves and the one who had been entrusted with them to the emperor. And when he saw him and had read what was written—for they were written, as is likely, with things that he did not want, but which were beautiful and salutary—burning with anger, he ordered their immediate presentation. They were therefore brought at once.

XXXI. And the emperor said: "Was my conjecture vain, when I predicted that you had defected from me? Rather, you accursed ones, you have now even risen up against me, and have turned to another, with whom we...

^A are waging a cruel war, you have deserted." And at the same time he gave them the letter to read. He also ordered that the man who had brought it should be brought in. When the martyrs saw him, they were greatly gladdened in spirit, and even though they were standing at a distance, they greeted him with their faces and gestures.

Maximianus, assuming a certain haughty and princely air, and looking at him savagely, said, "Tell me, wretch, who gave these things to you, and where on earth is he hiding?" The deacon, however, having first cried out mightily to God in silence, and having asked for the opening of his mouth in accordance with the most truthful promise, said, "He who gave the letter, being a shepherd, even though he is far away, urges and incites the flock toward piety, especially when he senses the incursion of wolves and wild beasts. For then he signals to his flock with a loud and very clear voice; and the things which he says are not his own, but he has received them from the chief Shepherd, who says: 'Do not fear those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul.' And so, I have stated who gave the letter; but where he is, I will not say. For it would be an obvious madness to be a traitor to the shepherd from whom one has received the greatest benefit—he who, even without us, will soon be made manifest. For the divine and truth-loving Voice said that a city set upon a hill cannot be hidden."

XXXII. When these things had been most bravely spoken by that holy tongue, Maximianus, not enduring his freedom of speech, condemned him to have it cut out; and after that, he ordered him to be pelted with stones. And he, indeed, after the removal of his sacred tongue ^C and while being pelted with stones, cared not at all for the blows; but although his body was worn by the missiles and partly covered by stones, his soul was lifted up still more, and was carried aloft to the heavens, to be joined to Christ, the cornerstone. Maximianus was still vehemently angry. Wherefore, Dorotheus and his companions endured manifold tortures. Yet, their constant perseverance never failed, as they called upon Christ and cared nothing for the tortures, esteeming them light and weak, or rather, accounting them as delights, and rebuking the tyrant even more sharply for his impiety. Wherefore he, now exhausted, condemned them all to death in common, but pronounced different sentences: that Dorotheus should have his head cut off with a sword, Mardonius should be burned alive, ^D Mygdonius should be cast into a pit and covered with earth, and Gorgonius and Indes and Peter should have millstones tied about their necks and be thrown into the sea. And thus the glorious martyrs of Christ, having finished their victories, departed to the Lord by a single path, though by various modes of death. When chaste Domna heard these things, she was in part gladdened in spirit—especially on account of Indes, who was one in mind and spirit with her—but in part, she was incited toward imitation, and longed for the same contests and rewards as they. Wherefore the Lord did not despise His bride, who had her garment clean from the nuptials, and thus...

^A daily whitened it with tears, for not having dyed it purple with the blood of martyrdom, and for not having shown the bride entirely worthy of His beauty; although, in the present state of her life, nothing was lacking to her of the dignity of martyrdom, inasmuch as the long duration of her asceticism and the hardship of her diet pressed her severely, she being hidden in a subterranean cave—and that, as one might say, a tomb beneath the earth—making a drink of the spring that was within, and food, likewise, of the herbs that were, forsooth, on the margin of the cavern.

XXXIII. The Martyrdom of Agapa

As she was thus exerting herself in her discipline, she then descended from the mountain and, entering the city in male attire (for in this disguise Agape, her mother in the spirit, had clothed her and stolen her away from those unchaste and intemperate hands), she sought this blessed Agape. But when she learned that she too had finished the course of martyrdom, being made a whole burnt offering to the Lord along with many other virgins in the temple that had been burned, the noble woman suffered in her soul—not because she was pained that Agape had died, but because she herself had not rather died with Agape and shared in the same death. And standing by the burnt temple, she mixed her tears with the ash. ^B Now at the closing of the day, by divine grace, being enlightened toward the path of martyrdom and led toward this from all sides, she descended to the sea. And lo, by the shore, fishermen were already preparing their nets and had their oars ready. Seeing her thus attired and wearing the appearance of a man—not from what she was, but rather from what she seemed—they called out to her, saying: "Come, young man, and assist us in our labor, that we may make you a partner of the catch." She readily heard their call, and having boarded, she immediately stirred to wonder both the eyes and the souls of the fishermen, who saw a man in appearance, but felt the character, virginal beauty, and great modesty resting in her eyes. ^C But when they had cast their nets for the catch, with great labor they drew them to the land, as if they sensed some great weight upon them. Now, having come to the shore at night, the moon revealing the gloom, they saw not only a multitude of fish caught, but bodies dead in the belly of the net.

XXXIV. The Discovery of the Bodies

^D Those men, then, being troubled by the sight, and having shaken the bodies out of the nets in grief and fear, and having laid them on the ground, they gathered up their nets and hastened to cross over to the opposite shore, wishing to take the virgin with them in the boat. But when they could not persuade her, they gave her bread and fish as her wages and sailed away. But she, having already learned—as we have said—of Indes and his companions, of their death, and the manner of their death, went up to the bodies; and she examined them carefully, and turned them over sufficiently, and then she studied each detail with precision. When, therefore, their features and the marks upon their whole bodies clearly gave evidence that they were the saints, taking them up in her hands and applying her lips with great...

longing, while her whole soul also embraced them. ^A While she was doing this, she saw a ship already being borne toward the shore, having just lowered its sail and, with only a few oars, moving gently toward land. The virgin approached and, after greeting the crew of sailors as was proper, she also displayed the fish. The shipmaster, thinking she was selling them, immediately asked for how much she would sell them. She, however, said that she was giving them for free. When he, not believing her, again mentioned a price, and she stood silent, reaching out her hand as if in favor, the shipmaster said, "By Christ Himself, for how much are you selling them?" Then, the noble virgin, having learned from the oath that the man was pious, wished to conceal nothing, but called him out to the shore, showed him the bodies of the saints, and took him into partnership in this most beautiful service, explaining to him whose they were and relating how the martyrs had died for Christ.

XXXV. The shipmaster, having heard these things, immediately brought out from the ship new linen cloths, white garments, ointments, and incense, and labored to prepare them for interment. ^B Domna, having first washed the bodies with waters she had—which were clean—and with her tears, and having honorably laid them out with the shipmaster with all reverence, they then together carried them to the city wall, which is near the torrent, at the gate by the sea, where Dorotheus and his companions had met their end, and there they buried them in a pit. The shipmaster, indeed, judging the virgin to be a brother of the same [Dorotheus], according to Christ (for he still thought she was a man), asked her to be with him and never to depart from him for the rest of his life. She, however, would not yield, but asked him to pursue the journey he had undertaken, while saying that she would remain, because, she said, "The end of my life is near. Wherefore it is not fitting for my body to be separated from these bodies, nor for my soul to be separated from these souls at all." ^C Having remained there, therefore, she clung inseparably to the relics, kissing them, praying, and showing them honor with aromatics and incense, as the shipmaster provided sufficient funds for the purchasing of these things.

XXXVI. It could not, however, be that the work of the light should escape those who sat in darkness, nor that the desire for martyrdom which possessed Domna should be seen as incomplete. Wherefore these things were reported to Maximian; and when he learned that she was so lovingly attached to the saints, he burst into a great laugh—a laugh worthy of much laughter or, rather, of ten thousand tears—and said, "It is fitting that she too undergo a death equal to theirs, and thus learn by experience that she offers such honors in vain to men who have nothing more after death." ^D He spoke, and immediately sent those to kill her. When they found her praying in that very place, they severed her head with a sword and committed her body to the fire. Shortly after, the wise Anthimus was added to her, he who had previously...