{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_25410/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_25410","id":"gutenberg_25410","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/25410","summary":null,"tags":["Bishops -- Fiction","Category: French Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","French fiction -- Translations into English","Miracles -- Fiction","Nobel Prizes in Literature"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE MIRACLE OF THE GREAT ST. NICOLAS\n\nFrom \u201cThe Seven Wives Of Bluebeard & Other Marvellous Tales\u201d\n\nBy Anatole France\n\nTranslated by D. B. Stewart\n\nEdited By James Lewis May And Bernard Miall\n\nJohn Lane Company MCMXX\n\n\nST. NICOLAS, Bishop of Myra in Lycia, lived in the time of Constantine\nthe Great. The most ancient and weighty of those authors who have\nmentioned him celebrate his virtues, his labours, and his worth: they\ngive abundant proofs of his sanctity; but none of them records the\nmiracle of the salting-tub. Nor is it mentioned in the Golden Legend.\nThis silence is important: still one does not willingly consent to throw\ndoubt upon a fact so widely known, which is attested by the ballad which\nall the world knows:\n\n     \u201cThere were three little children\n     In the fields they went to glean.\u201d\n\nThis famous text expressly states that a cruel pork-butcher put\nthe innocents \u201clike pigs into the salting-vat.\u201d That is to say, he\napparently preserved them, cut into pieces, in a bath of brine. This is,\nto be sure, how pork is cured: but one is surprised to read further on\nthat the three little children remained seven years in pickle, whereas\nit is usual to begin withdrawing the pieces of flesh from the tub, with\na wooden fork, at the end of about six weeks. The text is explicit:\naccording to the elegy, it was seven years after the crime that St.\nNicolas entered the accursed hostelry. He asked for supper. The landlord\noffered him a piece of ham:\n\n     \u201c\u2018Wilt eat of ham?   Tis dainty food.\u2019\n     \u2018I\u2019ll have no ham: it is not good.\n     \u2018Wilt cat a piece of tender veal?\n     \u2018I will not make of that my meal.\n     Young salted flesh I want, and that\n     Has lain seven years within the vat.\n     Wheras the butcher heard this said\n     Out of the door full fast he fled.\u201d\n\nThe Man of God immediately resuscitated the tender victims by the laying\nof hands on the salting-tub.\n\nSuch is, in substance, the story of the old anonymous rhyme. It bears\nthe inimitable stamp of honesty and good faith. Scepticism seems\nill-inspired when it attacks the most vital memories of the popular\nmind. It is not without a lively satisfaction that I have found myself\nable to reconcile the authority of the ballad with the silence of the\nancient biographers of the Lycian pontiff. I am happy to proclaim the\nresult of my long meditations and scholastic researches. The miracle of\nthe salting-tub is true, in so far as essentials are concerned, but it\nwas not the blessed Bishop of Myra who performed it; it was another St.\nNicolas, for there were two: one, as we have already stated, Bishop\nof Myra in Lycia; the other more recent, Bishop of Trinqueballe in\nVervignole. For me was reserved the task of distinguishing between them.\nIt was the Bishop of Trinqueballe who rescued the three little boys from\nthe salting-tub. I shall establish the fact by authentic documents, and\nno one will have occasion to deplore the end of a legend.\n\nI have been fortunate enough to recover the entire history of the Bishop\nNicolas and the children whom he resuscitated. I have fashioned it\ninto in a narrative which will be read, I hope, with both pleasure and\nprofit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nNICOLAS, a scion of an illustrious family of Vervignole, showed marks of\nsanctity from his earliest childhood, and at the age of fourteen vowed\nto consecrate himself to the Lord. Having embraced the ecclesiastical\nprofession, he was raised, while still young, by popular acclamation and\nthe wish of the Chapter, to the see of St. Cromadaire, the apostle of\nVervignole, and first Bishop of Trinqueballe. He exercised his pastoral\nministry with piety, governed his clergy with wisdom, taught the people,\nand feared not to remind the great of Justice and Moderation. He was\nliberal, profuse in almsgiving, and set aside for the poor the greater\npart of his wealth.\n\nHis castle proudly lifted its crenelated walls and pepper-pot roofs from\nthe summit of a hill overlooking the town. He made of it a refuge where\nall who were pursued by the secular arm might find a place of refuge. In\nthe lower hall, the largest to be seen in all Vervignole, the table laid\nfor meals was so long that those who sat at one end saw it lose itself\nin the distance in an indistinct point, and when the torches upon\nit were lighted it recalled the tail of the comet which appeared in\nVervignole to announce the death of King Comus. The holy St. Nicolas sat\nat the upper end. There he entertained the principal folk of the town\nand of the kingdom, and a multitude of clergy and laymen. But on his\nright there was always reserved a seat for the poor man who might come\nbegging for his bread at the door.\n\nChildren, particularly, aroused the solicitude of the good St. Nicolas.\nHe delighted in their innocence, and he felt for them with the heart of\na father and the bowels of a mother. He had the virtues and the morals\nof an apostle. Yearly, in the dress of a simple monk, with a white staff\nin his hand, he would visit his flock, desirous of seeing everything\nwith his own eyes; and in order that no adversity or disorder should\nescape his notice he would traverse, accompanied by a single priest, the\nwildest parts of his diocese, crossing, in winter, the flooded rivers,\nclimbing mountains, and plunging into the thick forests. One day, having\nridden since dawn upon his mule, in company with the Deacon Modernus,\nthorny thickets through which his mount with difficulty forced a winding\npath. The Deacon Modernus followed him with much difficulty on his mule,\nwhich carried the baggage.\n\nOvercome with hunger and fatigue, the man of God said to Modernus:\n\n\u201cLet us halt here, my son, and if you still have a little bread and wine\nwe will sup here, for I feel that I hardly have the strength to proceed\nfurther, and you, although the younger, must be nearly as tired as I.\u201d\n\n\u201cMonseigneur,\u201d answered Modernus, \u201cthere remains neither a drop of wine\nnor a crumb of bread; for, by your orders, I gave all to some people on\nthe road, who had less need of it than ourselves.\u201d\n\n\u201cWithout a doubt,\u201d replied the Bishop, \u201chad there been a few scraps\nleft in your wallet we should have eaten them with pleasure, for it\nis fitting that those who govern the Church should be nourished on the\nleavings of the poor. But since you have nothing left it is because God\nhas desired it so, and He has surely desired it for our good and profit.\nIt is possible that He will for ever hide from us the reason of this\nfavour: perhaps, on the other hand, He will quickly make it manifest.\nMeanwhile, I think the only thing left for us is to push on until we\nfind some arbutus berries and blackberries for our own nourishment, and\nsome grass for our mules, and, being thus refreshed, to lie down upon a\nbed of leaves.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you please, Monseigneur,\u201d answered Modernus, pricking his mount.\n\nThey travelled all night, and a part of the following morning; then,\nhaving climbed a fairly steep ascent, they suddenly found themselves at\nthe border of the wood, and beheld at their feet a plain covered by a\nyellowish sky, and crossed by four white roads, which lost themselves\nin the mist. They took that to the left, an old Roman road, formerly\nfrequented by merchants and pilgrims, but deserted since the war had\nlaid waste this part of Vervignole. Dense clouds were gathering in the\nsky, across which birds were flying; a stifling atmosphere weighed down\nupon the dumb, livid earth. Lightning flashed on the horizon. They urged\non their wearied mules. Suddenly a mighty wind bent the tops of the\ntrees, making the boughs crack and the battered foliage moan. The\nthunder muttered, and heavy drops of rain began to fall.\n\nAs they made their way through the storm, the lightning flashing about\nthem, along a road which had become a torrent, they perceived, by the\nlight of a flash, a house outside which there hung a branch of holly,\nthe sign of hospitality.\n\nThe inn appeared deserted; nevertheless, the host advanced towards them,\na man fierce yet humble, with a great knife at his belt, and asked what\nthey wished for.\n\n\u201cA lodging, and a scrap of bread, with a drop of wine,\u201d answered the\nBishop, \u201cfor we are weary and benumbed with cold.\u201d\n\nWhile the host was fetching wine from the cellar, and Modernus was\ntaking the mules to the stable, St. Nicolas, sitting at the hearth\nbeside a dying fire, cast a glance round the smoky room. Dust and dirt\ncovered the benches and casks; spiders spun their webs between the\nworm-eaten joists, whence hung scanty bunches of onions. In a dark\ncorner the salting-tub displayed its iron-hooped belly.\n\nIn those days the demons used to take a hand in domestic life in a\nfar more intimate fashion than they do to-day. They haunted houses,\nconcealed in the salt-box, the butter-tub, or some other hiding-place;\nthey spied upon the people of the house, and watched for the opportunity\nto tempt them and lead them into evil. Then, too, the angels made more\nfrequent appearances among Christian folk.\n\nNow a devil, as big as a hazel-nut, who was hidden among the burning\nlogs, spoke up and said to the holy Bishop:\n\n\u201cLook at that salting-tub, Father; it is well worth a look. It is the\nbest salting-tub in the whole of Vervignole. It is, indeed, the model\nand paragon of salting-tubs. When the master here, Seigneur Garum,\nreceived it from the hands of a skilful cooper he perfumed it with\njuniper, thyme, and rosemary. Seigneur Garum has not his equal\nin bleeding the meat, boning it, and cutting it up, carefully,\nthoughtfully, and lovingly, and steeping it in salted liquors by which\nit is preserved and embalmed. He is without a rival for seasoning,\nconcentrating, boiling down, skimming, straining, and decanting the\npickle. Taste his mild-cured pork, father, and you will lick your\nfingers: taste his mild-cured pork, Nicolas, and you will have something\nto say about it.\u201d\n\nBut in these words, and above all in the voice that uttered them (it\ngrated like a saw), the holy Bishop recognized an evil spirit. He\nmade the sign of the Cross, whereupon the little devil exploded with a\nhorrible noise and a very bad smell, just like a chestnut thrown into\nthe fire without having had its skin split.\n\nAnd an angel from Heaven appeared, resplendent in light and said to\nNicolas:\n\n\u201cNicolas, beloved of the Lord, you must know that three little children\nhave been in that salting-tub for seven years; Garum, the innkeeper,\ncut up these tender infants, and put them in salt and pickle. Arise,\nNicolas, and pray that they may come to life again. For, if you\nintercede for them, O Pontiff, the Lord, who loves you, will restore\nthem to life.\u201d\n\nDuring this speech Modernus entered the room, but he did not see the\nangel, nor did he hear him, for he was not sufficiently holy to be able\nto communicate with the heavenly spirits.\n\nThe angel further said:\n\n\u201cNicolas, son of God, lay your hands on the salting-tub, and the three\nchildren will be resuscitated.\u201d\n\nThe blessed Nicolas, filled with horror, pity, zeal, and hope, gave\nthanks to God, and when the innkeeper reappeared with a jug in either\nhand, the Saint said to him in a terrible voice:\n\n\u201cGarum, open the salting-tub!\u201d\n\nWhereupon, Garum, overcome by fear, dropped both his jugs.\n\nAnd the saintly Bishop Nicolas stretched out his hands, and said:\n\n\u201cChildren, arise!\u201d\n\nAt these words, the lid of the salting-tub was lifted up, and three\nyoung boys emerged.\n\n\u201cChildren,\u201d said the Bishop, \u201cgive thanks to God, who through me, has\nraised you from out the salting-tub.\u201d\n\nAnd turning towards the innkeeper, who was trembling in every limb, he\nsaid:\n\n\u201cCruel man, recognize the three children whom you shamefully put to\ndeath. May you loathe your crime, and repent, that God may pardon you!\u201d\n\nThe innkeeper, filled with terror, fled into the storm, amidst the\nthunder and lightning.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nST. NICOLAS embraced the three children and gently questioned them about\nthe miserable death which they had suffered. They related that Garum,\nhaving approached them while they were gleaning in the fields, had lured\nthem into his inn, had made them drink wine, and had cut their throats\nwhile they slept.\n\nThey still wore the rags in which they had been clothed on the day of\ntheir death, and they retained, after their resurrection, a wild\nand timid air. The sturdiest of the three, Maxime, was the son of a\nhalf-witted woman, who followed the soldiers to war, mounted on an ass.\nOne night he fell from the pannier in which she carried him, and was\nleft abandoned by the roadside. From that time forward he had lived\nsolely by theft. The feeblest, Robin, could hardly recall his parents,\npeasants in the highlands, who being too poor or too avaricious to\nsupport him had deserted him in the forest. The third, Sulpice, knew\nnothing of his birth, but a priest had taught him his alphabet. The\nstorm had ceased; in the buoyant, limpid air the birds were calling\nloudly to one another. The smiling earth was green. Modernus having\nfetched the mules, Bishop Nicolas mounted his, and carried Maxime\nwrapped in his cloak: the deacon took Sulpice and Robin upon his\ncrupper, and they set off toward the city of Trinqueballe.\n\nThe road unfolded itself between fields of corn, vineyards, and meadows.\nAs they went along the great Saint Nicolas who already loved the\nchildren with all his heart, examined them on subjects suitable to their\nage, and asked them easy questions such as: \u201cHow much is five times\nfive?\u201d or \u201cWhat is God?\u201d He obtained no satisfactory answers. But, far\nfrom shaming them for their ignorance, he thought only of gradually\ndissipating it by the application of the best pedagogic methods.\n\n\u201cModernus,\u201d he said, \u201cwe will teach them firstly the truths necessary\nfor salvation, and secondly the liberal arts, especially music, so that\nthey may sing the praises of the Lord. It will also be expedient to\nteach them rhetoric, philosophy, and the history of men, plants, and\nanimals. I desire that they shall study, in their habits and their\nstructure, the animals, all of whose organs, in their wonderful\nperfection, attest the glory of the Creator.\u201d\n\nScarcely had the venerable Pontiff concluded this speech when a peasant\nwoman passed along the road, dragging by the halter an old mare so\nheavily laden with branches cut with their leaves on that her knees were\ntrembling, and she stumbled at every step.\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d sighed the great St. Nicolas, \u201chere is a poor horse carrying\nmore than its burden. He has unfortunately fallen into the hands of\nunjust and hard-hearted masters. One should not overload any creature,\nnot even beasts of burden.\u201d\n\nAt these words the three boys burst out laughing. The Bishop having\nasked why they laughed so loudly:\n\n\u201cBecause----\u201d said Robin.\n\n\u201cThat is----\u201d said Sulpice.\n\n\u201cWe laughed,\u201d said Maxime, \u201cbecause you mistook a mare for a horse.\nCan\u2019t you see the difference? It is very plain to me. Don\u2019t you know\nanything about animals?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said Modernus, \u201cthe first thing is to teach these children\nmanners.\u201d\n\nAt every town, borough, village, hamlet or castle by which he passed,\nSt. Nicolas showed the people the children rescued from the salting-tub,\nand related the great miracle performed by God, on his intercession;\nwhereupon they were all very joyful, and blessed him. Informed by\nmessengers and travellers of so prodigious an occurrence, the entire\npopulation of Trinqueballe came out to meet their pastor, unrolling\nprecious carpets and scattering flowers in his path. The citizens, their\neyes wet with tears, gazed at the three victims who had escaped from the\nsalting-tub, and cried: \u201cThe Lord be praised!\u201d But the poor children\nknew no better than to laugh and stick out their tongues; this caused\nfurther wonder and compassion, as being a palpable proof of their\ninnocence and misfortune.\n\nThe saintly Bishop Nicolas had an orphan niece, Mirande by name, who had\njust reached her seventh year, and was dearer to him than the light of\nhis eyes. A worthy widow by name Basine was rearing her in piety, good\nmanners, and ignorance of evil. The three miraculously saved children\nwere confided to the care of this lady. She was not lacking in judgment.\nShe quickly saw that Maxime had courage, Robin prudence, and Sulpice\nthe power of reflection. She devoted herself to confirming these good\nqualities, which, by the corruption common to the whole human race,\ntended unceasingly to become perverted and distorted; for Robin\u2019s\ncautiousness turned easily into hypocrisy, and mostly hid a greedy\ncovetousness; Maxime was subject to fits of rage, and Sulpice frequently\nand obstinately expressed false ideas in very important matters.\nHowever, they were but mere children who went bird\u2019s-nesting, stole the\ngarden fruit, tied cooking-pots to dogs\u2019 tails, put ink the holy water\nfont, and cow-itch in Modernus\u2019 bed.\n\nAt night, wrapped in white sheets and walking on stilts, they would go\ninto the gardens, and frighten into a swoon the serving-maids belated\nin their lovers\u2019 arms. They would cover the seat which Madame Basine\nwas wont to use with bristling spikes, and when she sat down they would\ndelight in her sufferings, observing the confusion with which she openly\napplied a heedful and comforting hand to the damaged spot, for she would\nnot for all the world have been lacking in modesty.\n\nIn spite of her age and virtues, this lady inspired them with neither\nlove nor fear. Robin called her an old goat, Maxime an old she-ass, and\nSulpice, the ass of Balaam. They teased little Mirande in all sorts\nof ways; they would dirty her pretty clothes by making her fall face\ndownward on the stones. Once they pushed her head right up to the neck\ninto a barrel of treacle. They taught her to sit astride railings, and\nto climb trees, contrary to the decorum of her sex; they taught her\nwords and manners that smacked of the inn and the salting-tub. Following\ntheir example, she called Madame Bassne \u201can old goat,\u201d and even, taking\nthe part for the whole, \u201cold goat\u2019s rump.\u201d But she remained completely\ninnocent. The purity of her soul was unchangeable.\n\n\u201cI am fortunate,\u201d said the holy Bishop Nicolas, \u201cin that I rescued these\nchildren from the salting-tub, to make them good Christians. They will\nbecome faithful servants of God, and their merits will be accounted to\nme.\u201d\n\nNow, by the third year after their resurrection, when they were already\ntall and well-made, on a day of spring, as they were all playing in the\nfield beside the river, Maxime in a moment of facetiousness and natural\nhigh spirits, threw the Deacon Modernus into the water. Hanging on to\nthe branch of a willow-tree, Modernus called for help. Robin ran up,\nmade as though to draw him out by the hand, took off his ring, and fled.\n\nMeanwhile, Sulpice, sitting motionless on the bank with his arms\ncrossed, said:\n\n\u201cModernus is making a bad end. I can see six devils, in the form of\nflittermice, ready to seize his soul as it comes out of his mouth.\u201d\n\nWhen this serious affair was reported to him by Madame Basine and\nModernus, the holy Bishop was much afflicted and fell a-sighing.\n\n\u201cThese children,\u201d he said, \u201cwere reared in suffering, by unworthy\nparents. The excess of their misfortunes has caused the deformity of\ntheir characters. We must redress their wrongs by enduring patience, and\npersevering kindness.\u201d\n\n\u201cMonseigneur,\u201d answered Modernus, who was chattering with fever in his\ndressing-gown, and sneezing under his nightcap, for his bath had given\nhim a cold, \u201cit is possible that their wickedness is derived from the\nwickedness of their parents. But how do you explain, father, the fact\nthat neglect has produced in each of them different and, so to speak,\ncontrary vices, and that the desertion and destitution into which\nthey were thrown before they were put in the salting-tub has made one\navaricious, a second violent, and the third a visionary? And in your\nplace, my Lord, I should feel most uneasy about the last.\u201d\n\n\u201cEach of these children,\u201d answered the Bishop, \u201chas yielded in his weak\nspot. Ill-treatment has deformed their souls in those portions that\noffered the least resistance. Let us straighten them out with a thousand\nprecautions, for fear of increasing the evil instead of diminishing it.\nMildness, clemency, and forbearance are the only means which should ever\nbe employed for the improvement of men, heretics of course excepted.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt, Monseigneur, no doubt,\u201d said Modernus, sneezing three\ntimes. \u201cBut you cannot have a good education without chastisement, nor\ndiscipline without discipline. I know what I am about. If you do not\npunish these three little ragamuffins, they will grow up worse than\nHerod. I assure you I am right.\u201d\n\n\u201cModernus could not be mistaken,\u201d said Madame Basine.\n\nThe Bishop did not answer. With the widow and the Deacon, he paced the\nlength of a hawthorn hedge, which breathed forth an agreeable fragrance\nof honey and bitter almonds. In a slight hollow, where the soil received\nthe water from a neighbouring spring, he stopped before a bush, whose\ntwisted, close-packed branches were covered with gleaming, clean-cut\nleaves and white clusters of flowers.\n\n\u201cLook,\u201d he said, \u201cat this leafy, fragrant shrub, this lovely may, this\nnoble thorn-bush, so strong and vigorous. Observe that it is in more\nabundant leaf, and more glorious with bloom, than all the other thorns\nin the hedge. But notice also that the pale bark of its branches bears\nonly a few thorns, which are weak and soft and blunt. What is the reason\nof this? It is because, growing in a rich, moist soil, quiet and secure\nin the wealth which sustains its life, it has utilized all the juices\nof the earth to augment its power and its glory, and being too strong\nto dream of arming against its feeble enemies, it has devoted itself\nentirely to the joys of its magnificent and delicious fertility. Now\ncome a few steps up this rising path, and look at this other hawthorn,\nwhich having with difficulty issued from a dry, stony soil, languishes,\ndeficient in both wood and leaves, and has had no other thought during\nits hard life than to defend itself against the innumerable enemies that\nthreaten the weal. It is nothing but a bundle of thorns. It has employed\nthe little sap which it received in fashioning innumerable spears, broad\nat the base, hard and sharp, which but ill restore confidence to\nits apprehensive weakness. It has nothing left over for fruitful and\nfragrant blossom. My friends, we are like the hawthorns. The care given\nto our childhood makes us better. Too harsh an up bringing hardens us.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nWHEN Maxime was approaching his seventeenth year he filled the holy\nBishop Nicolas with grief and the diocese with scandal by forming and\ntraining a company of rogues of his own age, with a view to kidnapping\nthe girls of a village called Grosses-Nates, situated at a distance\nof four leagues from Trinqueballe. The expedition was marvellously\nsuccessful. The ravishers entered the village by night, clasping to\ntheir bosoms the dishevelled virgins, who vainly uplifted to heaven\ntheir burning eyes and imploring hands. But when the fathers, brothers,\nand betrothed of these ravished maidens sought them out, they refused to\nreturn to the place of their birth, alleging that they felt too deeply\nshamed, and preferred to hide their dishonour in _the_ arms that\nhad caused it. Maxime, who, for his share, had taken the three most\nbeautiful, was living in their company in a little manor dependent upon\nthe episcopal See. In the absence of their ravisher, the Deacon Modernus\narrived, by order of the Bishop, to knock at their door, answering that\nhe came to set them free. They refused to open; and when he represented\nto them the abomination of their lives they dropped upon his head\na crockful of dishwater, with the crock, by which his skull was\nfractured.\n\nArmed with a gentle severity, the holy Bishop reproached Maxime for this\nviolence and disorder:\n\n\u201cAlas,\u201d he said, \u201cdid I draw you from out of the salting-box to the ruin\nof the virgins of Vervignole?\u201d\n\nAnd he reproached him with the magnitude of his offence. But Maxime\nshrugged his shoulders, and turned his back, without making any reply.\n\nAt that moment King Berlu, in the fourteenth year of his reign, was\nassembling a powerful army to fight the Mambournians, the determined\nenemies of his kingdom, who, having entered Vervignole, were ravaging\nand depopulating the richest provinces of that great country.\n\nMaxime left Trinqueballe without saying goodbye to a soul. When he was\nsome leagues distant from the town, seeing in a field a mare of moderate\nquality, except that she was blind in one eye and lame, he jumped on her\nback and galloped off. On the following morning, accidentally meeting\na farm lad who was taking a great plough horse to water, he immediately\ndismounted, bestrode the great horse, and ordered the lad to mount the\nblind mare, and to follow him, saying that he would take him for his\nsquire should he prove satisfactory. Thus equipped Maxime presented\nhimself to King Berlu, who accepted his services. He became in a very\nshort time one of Vervignole\u2019s greatest captains.\n\nMeanwhile, Sulpice was giving the holy Bishop cause for perhaps more\ncruel, and certainly more momentous, uneasiness; for if Maxime sinned\ngrievously, he sinned without malice, and offending God without thought,\nand, so to speak, unknowingly. But Sulpice set himself to do evil with a\ngreater and more unusual malignity. Being destined from early youth for\nthe Church he assiduously studied letters, both sacred and profane; but\nhis soul was a corrupted vessel, wherein Truth was turned into Error.\nHe sinned in spirit; he erred in matters of faith with surprising\nprecocity. At an age when people have as yet no ideas at all, he\noverflowed with wrong ones. A thought occurred to him which was\ndoubtless suggested by the devil. In a field belonging to the Bishop he\ngathered a multitude of boys and girls of his own age and, climbing into\na tree, he exhorted them to leave their fathers and mothers to follow\nJesus Christ, and to go in, parties through the country-side, burning\npriories and presbyteries in order to lead the Church back into\nevangelical poverty. This youthful mob, led away by emotion, followed\nthe sinner along the roads of Vervignole, singing canticles, burning\nbarns, pillaging chapels, and devastating the ecclesiastical lands. Many\nof these crazy creatures perished of fatigue, hunger, and cold, or were\nkilled by villagers. The episcopal palace re-echoed with the complaints\nof the priesthood and the lamentations of mothers.\n\nThe pious Bishop Nicolas sent for the originator of these disorders.\nWith extreme mildness, and infinite sadness, he reproached him for\nhaving misused the Word for the misleading of souls, and reminded him\nthat God had not picked him out of the salting-tub in order that he\nshould attack the property of our Holy Mother, the Church.\n\n\u201cConsider, my son,\u201d he said, \u201cthe greatness of your offence. You appear\nbefore your pastor charged with turmoil, sedition, and murder.\u201d\n\nBut young Sulpice, maintaining a horrid calm, answered with a voice full\nof assurance, that he had not sinned, neither had he offended God; but,\non the contrary, he had acted in accordance with the bidding of Heaven,\nfor the good of the Church. And he professed before the dismayed Bishop\nthe false doctrines of the Manicheans, the Arians, the Nestorians, the\nSabellians, the Vaudois, the Albigenses, and the B\u00e9gards. So eager\nwas he to embrace these monstrous errors that he did not see how they\ncontradicted one another, and were mutually devoured in the bosom that\ncherished and revived them.\n\nThe pious Bishop endeavoured to lead Sulpice back into the right path,\nbut he failed to overcome the unhappy lad\u2019s obstinacy.\n\nHaving dismissed him, he knelt and prayed.\n\n\u201cI thank thee, O Lord, for having sent me this young man, as a whetstone\non which to sharpen my patience and my charity.\u201d\n\nWhile two of the children he had rescued from the salting-tub were\ncausing him so much pain, St. Nicolas was obtaining some consolation\nfrom the third. Robin showed himself neither violent in his actions nor\narrogant in his thoughts. He had not the sturdy, ruddy appearance of\nMaxime; nor the grave, audacious manner of Sulpice. Small, thin, yellow,\nlined, and shrunken, of humble, obsequious and reverential bearing, he\ndevoted himself to assisting the Bishop and clergy, helping the clerks\nto keep the accounts of the episcopal revenues, and making complicated\ncalculations with the assistance of balls threaded on rods; he even\nmultiplied and divided numbers in his head, without the use of slate or\npencil, with a rapidity and accuracy that would have been admired even\nin a past master of money and finance. For him it was a pleasure to keep\nthe books of the Deacon Modernus, who, growing old, used to muddle the\nfigures and fall asleep at his desk. To oblige the Bishop, and obtain\nmoney for him, he spared neither trouble nor fatigue. From the Lombards,\nhe learnt how to calculate both the simple and compound interest on a\nsum of money for a day, week, month, or year; he feared not to visit\nthe filthy Jews in the black lanes of the Ghetto, in order to learn,\nby mingling with them, the standard of metals, the price of precious\nstones, and the art of clipping coin. Ultimately, with a little store\nwhich he had accumulated by marvellous industry in Vervignole, in\nMondousiana, and even in Mambournia, he attended the fairs, tournaments,\npardons, and jubilees, to which people of all conditions flocked from\nall parts of Christendom: peasants, burghers, clerics, and _seigneurs_;\nthere he changed their money, and every time he returned a little richer\nthan he had departed. Robin did not spend the money he had made, but\nbrought it to the Bishop.\n\nSt. Nicolas was extremely hospitable, and very liberal in almsgiving.\nHe spent all his property and that of the Church in making gifts to\npilgrims and assisting the unfortunate. Thus he continually found\nhimself short of money; and he was much obliged to Robin for the skill\nand energy with which the young treasurer obtained the sums which he\nrequired. The condition of penury in which the holy Bishop had placed\nhimself owing to his magnificence and liberality was greatly aggravated\nby the condition of the times. The war which was ravaging Vervignole\nalso ruined the Church in Trinqueballe. The soldiery who were\nfighting in the country-side about the town pillaged the farms, levied\ncontributions on the peasantry, drove out the religious orders, and\nburned the castles and abbeys.\n\nThe clergy and the faithful could no longer contribute to the expenses\nof their creed, and thousands of peasants, fleeing from the free-booters\ncame daily to beg their bread at the door of the episcopal palace. For\ntheir sakes, the good St. Nicolas felt the poverty which he had never\nfelt for his own. Fortunately, Robin was always ready to lend him money,\nwhich the holy pontiff naturally agreed to return in more prosperous\ntimes.\n\nAlas, the war was now raging throughout the kingdom, from north to\nsouth, from east to west, attended by its two inseparable companions,\nfamine and pestilence. The peasantry turned robbers, and the monks\nfollowed the armies. The inhabitants of Trinqueballe, having neither\nwood for firing, nor bread to eat, died like flies at the approach of\nwinter. Wolves entered the outlying parts of the town, devouring little\nchildren. At this sad juncture, Robin came to inform the Bishop that not\nonly was he unable to provide any further sum of money, however small,\nbut that being unable to obtain anything from his debtors, and being\npressed by his creditors, he had been compelled to hand over all his\nassets to the Jews.\n\nHe brought this distressing news to his benefactor with the obsequious\npoliteness which was usual to him; but he appeared a great deal less\nafflicted than he might have been in this grevions extremity. As a\nmatter of fact, he was hard put to it to conceal, under a long face, his\njoyous feelings and his lively satisfaction. The parchment of his dry,\nhumble, yellow eyelids ill concealed the light of joy which shone from\nhis sharp eyes.\n\nSadly stricken, St. Nicolas remained quiet and serene under the blow.\n\n\u201cGod will soon re-establish our declining affairs,\u201d he said. \u201cHe will\nnot permit the house which He has built to be overthrown.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true,\u201d said Modernus, \u201cbut you may be sure that Robin, whom you\ndrew out of the salting-tub, has made an arrangement with the Lombards\nof Pont-Vieux and the Jews of the Ghetto to despoil you, and that he is\nretaining the lion\u2019s share of the plunder.\u201d\n\nModernus spoke the truth. Robin had lost no money. He was richer than\never, and had just been appointed treasurer to the King.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nAT this time Mirande was nearing the close of her seventeenth year.\nShe was beautiful, and well grown. An air of purity, innocence, and\nartlessness hung round her like a veil. The length of her eyelashes,\nwhich barred her blue eyes, and the childlike smallness of her mouth,\ngave the impression that evil could never find means to enter into her.\nHer ears were so tiny, so fine, so finished and so delicate, that the\nleast modest of men could never have dared to breathe into them any but\nthe most innocent of speeches. In the whole of Ver-vigbole no virgin\ninspired so much respect, and none had greater need to do so, for she\nwas marvellously simple, credulous, and defenceless.\n\nThe pious Bishop Nicolas, her uncle, cherished her more dearly every\nday, and was more deeply attached to her than one should be to any of\nGod\u2019s creatures. He loved her, undoubtedly, in God; but he also loved\nher for herself; he took great delight in her, and he loved to love her;\nit was his only weakness. The Saints themselves are not always able to\ncut through all the ties of the flesh.\n\nSt. Nicolas loved his niece, with a pure love, but not without\ngratification of the senses. On the day following that on which he had\nlearned of Robin\u2019s bankruptcy, he went to see Mirande in order to hold\npious converse with her, as was his duty, for he stood in the place of a\nfather to her, and had taken charge of her education.\n\nShe lived in the upper town, near the Cathedral in a house called \u201cThe\nHouse of the Musicians,\u201d because there were to be seen on its front men\nand animals playing on divers instruments. There were, notably, an ass\nplaying a flute, and a philosopher, recognizable by his long beard and\nink-horn, clashing cymbals. Every one explained these figures according\nto his fancy. It was the finest dwelling-house in the town.\n\nThe Bishop found his niece crouching on the floor, with dishevelled\nhair, her eyes glittering with tears, by the side of an empty, open\ncoffer, in a room full of confusion.\n\nHe inquired of her the reason of this affliction, and of the disorder\nthat prevailed around her. Turning upon him her despairing gaze, she\ntold him with a thousand sighs that Robin, the Robin who had escaped\nfrom the salting-tub, the darling Robin, having many a time told her\nthat if she ever wanted a dress, an ornament or a jewel, he would gladly\nlend her the money wherewith to buy it, she had frequently had recourse\nto his kindness, which appeared inexhaustible; but that very morning a\nJew called Seligmann had come to her with four sheriff\u2019s officers, had\npresented the notes, signed by herself, which she had given Robin, and\nas she had not the money to pay them he had taken away all the clothes,\nhead-dresses and jewels which she possessed.\n\n\u201cHe has taken,\u201d she sobbed, \u201cmy bodices and petticoats of velvet,\nbrocade and lace; my diamonds, my emeralds, my sapphires, my jacinths,\nmy amethysts, my rubies, my garnets, and my turquoises; he has taken my\ngreat diamond cross, with angels\u2019 heads in enamel, my large necklace,\nconsisting of two table diamonds, three cabochons, and six knots each\nof four pearls; he has taken my great collar of thirteen table diamonds,\nand twenty hanging pearls!\u201d\n\nAnd without saying more she wept bitterly into her handkerchief.\n\n\u201cMy daughter,\u201d answered the saintly Bishop, \u201ca Christian virgin is\nsufficiently adorned when she wears modesty for a necklace, and chastity\nfor a girdle. None the less, as the scion of a most noble and most\nillustrious family it was right that you should wear diamonds and\npearls. Your jewels were the treasury of the poor, and I deplore the\nfact that they should have been snatched from you.\u201d\n\nHe assured her that she would certainly recover them, either in this\nworld or the next; he said everything possible to assuage her regret,\nand soothe her sorrow, and he comforted her. For she had a tender\nsoul, which longed for consolation. But he himself left her full of\naffliction.\n\nOn the following day, as he was about to celebrate Mass in the\ncathedral, the holy Bishop saw coming towards him, in the sacristy, the\nthree Jews, Seligmann, Issachar, and Meyer, who, wearing green hats and\nfillets upon their shoulders, very humbly presented him the notes which\nRobin had made over to them. As the venerable pontiff could not pay\ndiem, they called up twenty porters, with baskets, sacks, picklocks,\ncarts, cords, and ladders, and commenced to pick the locks of the\nwardrobes, coffers, and tabernacles. The holy man cast on them a look\nwhich would have destroyed three Christians. He threatened them with the\npenalties of sacrilege, both in this world and the next, he pointed\nout that their mere presence in the house of the God, whom they had\ncrucified, called down the fire of heaven upon their heads. They\nlistened with the calm of people for whom anathema, reprobation,\nmalediction, and execration were their daily bread. He then prayed to\nthem, besought them, and promised to pay as soon as he could, twofold,\nthreefold, tenfold, a hundredfold, the debt which they had acquired.\nThey excused themselves politely for being unable to postpone the little\ntransaction. The Bishop threatened to sound the tocsin, to rouse against\nthem the people who would kill them like dogs for profaning, violating,\nand stealing the miraculous images and holy relics. They smilingly\npointed to the sheriff\u2019s officers, who were guarding them. They were\nprotected by King Berln, for they lent him money. At this sight the holy\nBishop, recognizing that resistance would be rebellion, and remembering\nHim who replaced the ear of Malchus, remained inert and speechless, and\nbitter tears dropped from his eyes. Seligmann, Issachar, and Meyer\ntook away the golden shrines enriched with precious stones, enamels and\ncabochons, the reliquaries in the form of chalices, lanterns, naves, and\ntowers, the portable altars of alabaster encased in gold and silver, the\ncoffers enamelled by the skilful craftsmen of Limoges and the Rhine, the\naltar-crosses, the Gospels bound in carved ivory and antique cameos,\nthe desks ornamented with festoons of trailing vines, the consular\nregisters, the pyxes, the candelabra and candlesticks, the lamp, of\nwhich they blew out the sacred flame, and spilt the blessed oil on the\ntiles, the chandeliers like enormous crowns, the duplets with beads of\npearl and amber, the eucharistie doves, the ciboria, the chalices, the\npatens, the kisses of peace, incense boxes and flagons, the innumerable\nex-votos--hands, arms, legs, eyes, mouths, and hearts, all of\nsilver--the nose of King Sidoc, the breast of Queen Blandine, and the\nhead in solid gold of Saint Cromadaire, the first apostle of Vervignole,\nand the blessed patron of Trinqueballe. They even carried off the\nmiraculous image of St. Gibbosine, whom the people of Vervignole had\nnever invoked in vain in time of pestilence, famine, or war. This very\nancient and venerable image was made of leaves of beaten gold nailed\nupon a core of cedar-wood, and was covered with precious stones of the\nbigness of ducks\u2019 eggs, which emitted fiery rays of red, blue, yellow\nand violet and white. For the past three hundred years her enamelled\neyes, wide open in her golden face, had compelled such respect from the\ninhabitants of Trinqueballe that they saw her in their dreams, splendid\nand terrible, threatening them with the direst penalties if they\nfailed to supply her with sufficient quantities of virgin- wax and\ncrown-pieces. St. Gibbosine groaned, trembled, and tottered on her\npedestal, and allowed herself to be carried away without resistance,\nout of the basilica to which, from time immemorial, she had drawn\ninnumerable pilgrims.\n\nAfter the departure of these sacrilegious thieves the holy Bishop\nNicolas ascended the steps of the despoiled altar, and consecrated the\nblood of our Lord in an old silver chalice, of German origin, thin and\ndeeply dented. He prayed for the afflicted, and in particular for Robin,\nwhom, by the will of God, he had rescued from the salting-box.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nSHORTLY after this, King Berlu defeated the Mambournians in a great\nbattle. He was, at first, unaware of the fact, for armed conflicts\nalways present a great confusion, and during the last two hundred years\nthe Vervignolians had lost the habit of victory. But the precipitate\nand disordered flight of the Mambournians informed him of his advantage.\nInstead of fighting a rear-guard action he pursued the enemy, and\nregained half his kingdom. The victorious army entered the city of\nTrinqueballe, all beflagged and beflowered in its honour, and in that\nillustrious capital of Vervignole it committed a great number of rapes,\nthefts, murders, and other cruelties, burnt several houses, sacked the\nchurches, and took from the cathedral all that the Jews had left there,\nwhich, truth to tell, was not much.\n\nMaxime, who having become a knight and commander of eighty lances, had\nlargely contributed to the victory, was one of the first to enter the\ncity, and repaired straightway to the House of the Musicians, where\ndwelt the beautiful Mirande, whom he had not seen since his departure\nfor the war. He found her in her bower, plying her distaff, and fell\nupon her with such impetuosity that the young lady lost her innocence\nwithout, so to speak, realizing that she had done so. And when, having\nrecovered from her surprise, she exclaimed: \u201cIs it you, Seigneur Maxime?\nWhat are you doing here?\u201d and was preparing as in duty bound to resist\nher aggressor, he was quietly walking down the street, readjusting his\narmour and ogling the girls.\n\nPossibly she would have entirely overlooked this offence, had it not\nbeen that some time later she found that she was about to become a\nmother. Captain Maxime was then fighting in Mambournia. All the town\nknew her shame: she confided it to the great St. Nicolas, who, on\nlearning this astonishing news, lifted his eyes to heaven, and said:\n\n\u201cLord, did you rescue this man from the salting-tub only as a ravening\nwolf to devour my sheep? Your wisdom is adorable; but your ways are\ndark, and your designs mysterious.\u201d\n\nAnd in that same year, on the Sunday of Mid-Lent, Sulpice threw himself\nat the feet of the holy Bishop, saying:\n\n\u201cFrom my earliest youth, my keenest wish has been to consecrate myself\nto the Lord. Allow me, father, to embrace the monastic state, and\nto make my profession in the monastery of the mendicant friars of\nTrinqueballe.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d answered the good St. Nikolas, \u201cthere is no worthier condition\nthan that of the monk. Happy is he who in the shade of the cloister\ntakes shelter from the tempests of the age. But of what avail to flee\nthe storm if the storm is within oneself? Of what avail to affect an\noutward show of humility, if one\u2019s bosom contains a heart full of pride?\nWhat shall you profit by donning the livery of obedience if your soul\nbe in revolt? I have seen you, my son, fall into more errors than\nSabellius, Alius, Nestorius, Eutyches, Manes, Pelagius, and Pachosius\ncombined, and revive, before your twentieth year, twelve centuries of\npeculiar opinions. It is true that you have not been very obstinate\nin any of them, but your successive recantations appear to betray less\nsubmission to our Holy Mother the Church than eagerness to rush from one\nerror to another, to leap from Manicheeism to Sabellianism, and from\nthe crime of the Albigenses to the ignominies of the Vaudois.\u201d\n\nSulpice listened to this discourse with a contrite heart, a simplicity\nof mind and submissiveness, that drew tears from the great St. Nicolas.\n\n\u201cI deplore, repudiate, condemn, reprove, detest, execrate, and abominate\nmy errors, past, present, and future,\u201d he said. \u201cI submit myself to the\nChurch fully and entirely, totally and generally, purely and simply; and\nI have no belief but her belief, no faith but her faith, no knowledge\nbut her knowledge: I neither see, hear, nor feel, save only through her.\nShe might tell me that the fly which has but now settled on the nose\nof the Deacon Modernus was a camel, and I should incontinently, without\ndispute, contest, murmur, resistance, hesitation or doubt, believe,\ndeclare, proclaim, and confess, under torture and unto death, that it\nwas a camel that settled on the nose of the Deacon Modernus. For the\nChurch is the Fountain of Truth, and I am nought by myself but a vile\nreceptacle of Error.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake care, my father,\u201d said Modernus. \u201cSulpice is capable of overdoing\nsubmission to the Church even to the point of Heresy. Do you not see\nthat he submits with frenzy, in transports and swooning? Is wallowing in\nsubmission a good way of submitting? He is annihilating himself; he is\ncommitting suicide.\u201d\n\nBut the Bishop reprimanded his deacon for holding such ideas, which\nwere contrary to charity, and sent the postulant to the noviciate of the\nmendicant friars of Trinqueballe.\n\nAlas, at the end of a year those priests, till then so quiet and humble,\nwere torn by frightful schisms, plunged into a thousand errors against\nthe Catholic truth, their days filled with disorder, and their souls\nwith sedition! Sulpice inspired the brothers with this poison. He\nsustained against his superiors that there was no longer any true Pope,\nsince miracles no longer accompanied the elections of the Sovereign\nPontiffs; nor, rightly speaking, any Church, since Christians had ceased\nto live the life of the apostles and the first of the faithful; that\nthere was no purgatory; that it was not necessary to confess to a priest\nif one confessed to God; that men do wrong in making use of moneys\nof gold and silver, for they should share in common the fruits of\nthe earth. These abominable maxims, which he forcibly sustained, were\ncombated by some, and adopted by others, causing horrible scandals.\nA little later Sulpice taught the doctrine of perfect purity, which\nnothing can soil, and the good brothers\u2019 monastery became like a cage of\nmonkeys. This pestilence did not remain confined within the walls of a\nmonastery. Sulpice went preaching through the city; his eloquence, the\ninternal fire by which he was consumed, the simplicity of his life, and\nhis unshakable courage touched all hearts.\n\nOn hearing the voice of the reformer, the ancient city, evangelized by\nSt. Cromadaire, and enlightened by St. Gibbosine, fell into disorder and\ndissolution; every sort of extravagance and impiety was committed there,\nby day and by night. In vain did the great St. Nicolas warn his flock by\nexhortations, threats, and fulminations. The evil increased unchecked,\nand it was sad to see the contagion spreading itself among the\nwell-to-do townsfolk, the lords, and the clergy, as much as and more\nthan among the poor artisans and the small tradesfolk.\n\nOne day when the man of God was lamenting the deplorable state of the\nchurch of Vervignole in the cloister of the cathedral, his meditations\nwere disturbed by strange shrieks, and he saw a woman, stark naked,\nwalking on all fours, with a peacock\u2019s feather for a tail. As she came\nnearer, she barked, sniffed, and licked the ground. Her fair head\nwas covered with mud, and her whole body was a mass of filth. In this\nunhappy creature the holy Bishop Nicolas recognized his niece Mirande.\n\n\u201cWhat do you there, my daughter?\u201d he cried. \u201cWhy are you naked, and\nwherefore do you walk on your hands and knees? Have you no shame?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, uncle, I am not ashamed,\u201d sweetly replied Mirande. \u201cI should, on\nthe contrary, be ashamed of any other gesture, or method of progression.\nIf one wishes to please God, it is thus that one should behave. The holy\nBrother Sulpice taught me to conduct myself thus, in order to resemble\nthe beasts, who are nearer to God than is Man, in that they have not\nsinned. So long as I am in the state in which you see me, there will be\nno danger of my sinning. I have come, uncle, to beg you in all love and\ncharity to do likewise; for unless you do you cannot be saved. Remove,\nI beg, your clothes, and adopt the posture of the animals, in whom God\njoyfully sees His image which has not been distorted by sin. I give you\nthis advice by order of the holy brother Sulpice, and consequently by\norder of God Himself, for the holy brother is in the Lord\u2019s secrets.\nStrip yourself naked, uncle, and come with me, so that we may show\nourselves to the people for their edification.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan I believe my eyes and ears?\u201d gasped the holy Bishop, whose voice\nwas stifled by sobs. \u201cI had a niece blooming in beauty, virtue, and\npiety; the three children whom I rescued from the salting-tub have\nreduced her to the miserable condition in which I now see her. The first\nhas despoiled her of all her property, an abundant source of alms, and\nthe patrimony of the poor; the second has robbed her of her honour, and\nthe third has turned her into a heretic.\u201d\n\nHe threw himself on the flagstones, embracing his niece, begging her to\nrenounce so evil a way of life, and adjuring her to reclothe herself,\nand walk on her feet like a human being, ransomed by the blood of Jesus\nChrist.\n\nBut she replied only by sharp yelps and lamentable shrieks.\n\nBefore long the town of Trinqueballe was filled with naked men and\nwomen, walking on all fours and barking; they called themselves the\nEdenites, and their ambition was to lead back the world to the times of\nperfect innocence, before the unfortunate creation of Adam and Eve.\n\nThe Reverend Father Gilles Caquerole, a Dominican, inquisitor of\nthe faith in the city, university, and ecclesiastical province of\nTrinqueballe, became uneasy concerning this novelty, and proceeded to\nlook into it minutely. In the most urgent fashion, by letters under his\nseal, he invited the Bishop Nicolas, in co-operation with himself, to\narrest, imprison, interrogate, and sentence these enemies of God, and\nespecially their principal leaders, the Franciscan monk, Sulpice, and\na dissolute woman named Mirande. The great St. Nicolas burned with an\nardent zeal for the unity of the Church and the destruction of heresy,\nbut he dearly loved his niece. He hid her in the episcopal palace, and\nrefused to hand her over to the inquisitor Caquerole, who denounced him\nto the Pope as an abettor of disorder and the propagator of a new and\nvery detestable heresy. The Pope enjoined Nicolas to no longer\nwithhold the guilty one from her legitimate judges. Nicolas eluded\nthe injunction, protested his obedience, and did not obey. The Pope\nfulminated against him in the Bull _Maleficus pastor_, in which the\nvenerable pontiff was accused of being a disobedient member of the\nChurch, a heretic, or one smelling of heresy, a keeper of concubines,\na committer of incest, a corrupter of the people, an old woman and a\nmeddling old fool, and was passionately admonished.\n\nIn this way the Bishop did himself a great deal of harm without any\nbenefit to his beloved niece. King Berlu, having been threatened with\nexcommunication if he did not lend his secular arm to the Church in\npursuit of the Edenites, sent some men-at-arms to the episcopal palace\nof Trinqueballe.\n\nThey tore Mirande from her asylum: she was brought before the inquisitor\nCaquerole, thrown into a deep dungeon, and fed upon bread which the\njailers\u2019 dogs had refused; but what afflicted her most was that she was\nforcibly compelled to don an old frock and a hood, and that she could no\nlonger be certain of not sinning.\n\nThe monk Sulpice escaped the investigations of the Holy Office and\nsucceeded in reaching Mambournia, and found an asylum in a monastery of\nthat kingdom, where he established new sects even more pernicious than\nthe previous one.\n\nNevertheless, heresy, fortified by persecution, and exulting in danger,\nnow spread its ravages over the whole of Vervignole. All over the\nkingdom there were seen in the fields thousands of naked men and women,\nnibbling the grass, bleating, lowing, roaring, neighing, and contending\nat night with sheep, cattle, and horses for the use of stable and\nmanger. The inquisitor informed the Holy Father of these horrible\nscandals, and warned him that so long as the Protector of the Edenites,\nthe odious Nicolas, remained seated on the throne of St. Cromadaire, the\nevil could only continue to increase. Conformably with this advice the\nPope hurled against the Bishop, like a thunderbolt, the Bull _Deterrima\nquondam_, by which he deprived him of all his ecclesiastical functions,\nand cut him off from the communion of the faithful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nCRUSHED by the Vicar of Jesus Christ, steeped in bitterness, overwhelmed\nby affliction, the holy Nicolas stepped down without regret from his\nillustrious seat, and departed, no more to return thither, from the city\nof Trinqueballe, which for thirty years had witnessed his pontifical\nvirtues and apostolic labours. There is in western Vervignole a lofty\nmountain, whose peals are covered with perpetual snow; from its flanks\nthere descend, in spring, the foaming sonorous cascades that fill the\nvalley torrents with a water as blue as the sky. There, in a region\nwhere grow the larch, the arbutus, and the hazel, some hermits supported\nthemselves on berries and milk. This mountain is called that of the\nSaviour. It was here that St. Nicolas resolved to take refuge, and, far\nfrom the world, to weep for his sins and those of man.\n\nAs he was climbing the mountain in search of some wild spot where he\nmight establish his habitation, having emerged above the clouds which\nare almost always gathered about the flanks of the peak, he saw upon the\nthreshold of a hut an old man sharing his bread with a tame hind. His\nhair fell over his forehead, and nothing could be perceived of his face\nbut the tip of his nose and a long white beard.\n\nThe holy Nicolas greeted him with these words:\n\n\u201cPeace be with you, brother.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt delights to dwell upon this mountain,\u201d answered the recluse.\n\n\u201cI also,\u201d replied the holy Nicolas, \u201chave come hither to end, in calm,\ndays which have been disturbed by the tumult of the times and the\nmalignity of men.\u201d\n\nAs he was speaking in this wise, the hermit gazed at him attentively.\n\n\u201cAre you not,\u201d he said at length, \u201cthe Bishop of Trinqueballe, that\nNicolas whose work and virtues are extolled by men?\u201d\n\nWhen, by a sign, the holy pontiff admitted that he was that man, the\nhermit threw himself at his feet.\n\n\u201cMonseigneur, to you I owe the saving of my soul, if, as I hope, my soul\nis saved.\u201d\n\nNicolas raised him with kindness, and asked him:\n\n\u201cMy brother, how have I had the happiness to work for your salvation?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwenty years ago,\u201d replied the recluse, \u201cwhen I was an innkeeper at\nthe edge of a wood, on a deserted road, I saw one day, in a field, three\nlittle children gleaning. I lured them to my house, gave them wine to\ndrink, cut their throats in their sleep, cut them up into small pieces,\nand salted them. On seeing them emerge from the salting-tub I was frozen\nwith terror; owing to your exhortations my heart melted; I experienced\na salutary repentance, and, fleeing from men, I came to this mountain,\nwhere I consecrated my days to God. He bestowed His peace upon me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat,\u201d cried the holy Bishop, \u201cyou are that cruel Garum, guilty of so\nheinous a crime! I praise God that he has accorded you a peaceful\nheart, after the horrible murder of three children, whom you put in the\nsalting-tub like pigs; but as for me, alas! for having drawn them out\nof it my life has been filled with tribulation, my soul steeped in\nbitterness, and my Bishopric laid wholly desolate. I have been deposed,\nexcommunicated by the common Father of the Faithful. Why have I been so\ncruelly punished for what I did?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us worship God,\u201d said Garum, \u201cand let us not ask His motives.\u201d\n\nThe great St. Nicolas, with his own hands, built a hut near that of\nGarum, and there, in prayer and penitence, he ended his days.","title":"The Miracle of the Great St. Nicolas: 1920","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":9696}