On Virgins 2.1–2.6

In the preceding book we wished (for we were not able) to set out how great the gift of virginity is, so that the grace of the heavenly gift might of itself invite the reader. In the second book it is fitting that the virgin be instructed and taught as if by the lessons of suitable precepts. But since we are weak at admonishing and unequal to teaching (for he who teaches ought to excel him who is taught), lest we should seem either to have abandoned the task we undertook or to have claimed too much for ourselves, we thought that she should be formed by examples rather than by precepts. Besides, more progress is made by example, since what has already been done is not thought difficult, what has been proved is thought useful, and what has been handed down to us by a kind of inherited practice of ancestral virtue is thought holy. If anyone accuses us of presumption, let him accuse us rather of diligence; for when virgins asked, I thought that not even this should be refused. I preferred to be brought into danger to my modesty rather than fail to comply with the wish of those whose zeal our God too favors with gracious assent. But presumption cannot be charged, since, though they had sources from which to learn, they sought my affection rather than my teaching; and diligence may be excused, since, though they had the authority of a martyr for keeping the discipline, I did not judge it superfluous to turn the charm of our speech into an allurement to the profession. He finds teaching easy who restrains vices with stern feeling; let us, who cannot teach, coax. And since very many, being absent, wished to have the benefit of our discourse, I have composed this volume, so that, holding the gift of my voice which has gone out to them, they might not think him absent whom they held. But let us pursue what we have set before us.

Let the life of Mary, then, be set before you as virginity portrayed in an image, from which, as from a mirror, the beauty of chastity and the form of virtue shine back. From it you may take examples for living, where, as in a pattern, lessons in goodness drawn to the life show what you ought to correct, what to copy, what to hold fast. The first spur to learning is the nobility of the teacher. What is nobler than the mother of God? What more splendid than she whom Splendor chose? What more chaste than she who bore a body without bodily contagion? For what shall I say of her other virtues? She was a virgin not only in body but also in mind, who never adulterated her sincere affection by any winding of guile: humble in heart, grave in words, prudent in mind, sparing of speech, devoted to reading; placing her hope not in uncertain riches but in the prayer of the poor; intent on work, modest in speech; accustomed to seek as judge of her mind not man but God; hurting no one, wishing well to all, rising before her elders, not envying her equals, shunning boasting, following reason, loving virtue. When did she wound her parents even by a look? When did she quarrel with her relatives? When did she disdain the lowly? When did she mock the weak? When did she avoid the needy? She was accustomed to visit only those gatherings of men at which mercy would not blush nor modesty have to pass by. Nothing stern in her eyes, nothing forward in her words, nothing immodest in her actions; no languid gesture, no loose gait, no pert voice; so that the very appearance of her body was an image of her mind, a figure of goodness. For a good house ought to be recognized at its very entrance, and show at the first step inside that no darkness lurks within; so that our mind, hindered by no bodily barriers, may shine outward like the light of a lamp set within. Why should I recount her sparing use of food, her abundance of duties: the one went beyond nature, the other almost fell short of what nature needs; in the one no times were left out, in the other days were doubled by fasting? And whenever the wish to take refreshment came, the food was usually whatever came to hand, such as would keep off death, not supply delights. Sleep came to her from necessity before desire; and yet while her body rested, her mind was awake, a mind that often in sleep either goes over what has been read, or continues what sleep interrupted, or carries out what was planned, or foresees what is to be done. She did not know how to go out of the house except to go to church, and then with her parents or relatives. Busy in the privacy of home, attended when abroad; yet with no better guardian of herself than herself, who, venerable in gait and address, did not so much lift the footstep as raise the step of virtue. Though a virgin may have others as guardians of her limbs, let her be the guardian of her own conduct: she will have many from whom to learn if she teaches herself, she who has the virtues for teachers; for whatever she does is a lesson. So Mary attended to everything as though she were being admonished by many; so she fulfilled every duty of virtue that she did not so much learn as teach. Such the evangelist showed her, such the angel found her, such the Holy Spirit chose her. Why should I dwell on details: how her parents loved her, how strangers praised her, who was worthy that the Son of God should be born of her? At the angel’s very entrance she was found at home in the inner rooms, without a companion, so that no one might break her attention, no one disturb her; for she did not want women as companions, who had good thoughts for companions. Indeed, she seemed to herself less alone when she was alone. For how was she alone, with so many books present to her, so many archangels, so many prophets? And so Gabriel found her where he was accustomed to visit her; and Mary trembled at the angel, as though disturbed by the appearance of a man, but on hearing his name recognized him as one not unknown. So she was a stranger toward a man who was no stranger toward an angel, that you may recognize devout ears and modest eyes. Indeed, when greeted she was silent, and when addressed she answered; and she who at first had been troubled in feeling afterward promised obedience. How devoted she was to her relatives divine Scripture indicates. For she became the humbler when she knew herself chosen by God, and went at once to her kinswoman in the hill country: not, surely, to believe through an example, she who had already believed the oracle; for “Blessed are you,” it says, “who believed.” And she stayed with her three months. In so long an interval it is not faith that is sought but devotion that is shown. And this was after the child, leaping in his mother’s womb, greeted the mother of the Lord, possessed of devotion before he possessed nature. Then, amid so many signs that followed, when a barren woman gave birth, a virgin conceived, a mute man spoke, magi worshiped, Simeon waited, stars announced, Mary, moved at the coming in, unmoved at the miracle, “kept,” it says, “all these things in her heart.” Though mother of the Lord, she yet desired to learn the precepts of the Lord; and she who had borne God yet longed to know God. What of the fact that every year she went to Jerusalem on the solemn day of the Passover, and went with Joseph? Everywhere in a virgin modesty is the companion of each virtue. It must be inseparable from virginity, without it virginity cannot exist. So Mary did not go even to the temple without the guardian of her modesty. This is the image of virginity. For such was Mary that her life alone is a lesson for all. If, then, the author does not displease, let us approve the work, so that whoever longs for her reward may imitate her example. How many forms of virtue shine out in one virgin! The secret of modesty, the banner of faith, the service of devotion: a virgin within the house, a companion for ministry, a mother at the temple. O how many virgins will she meet, how many will she embrace and bring to the Lord, saying: “This one kept my son’s bed, these his bridal chambers, with spotless modesty!” How the Lord himself will commend them to the Father, repeating, surely, his own words: “Holy Father, these are they whom I have kept for you, on whom the Son of Man laid his head and rested; I ask that where I am, they too may be with me. But since those who did not live for themselves alone ought not to profit themselves alone, let this one redeem her parents, this one her brothers. Righteous Father, the world has not known me, but these have known me, and have not wished to know the world.” What a procession that will be, what joy of applauding angels, that she deserves to dwell in heaven who lived a heavenly life in the world! Then Mary too, taking a timbrel, will rouse choirs of virgins singing to the Lord, because they have passed through the sea of the world without its worldly waves. Then each one will exult, saying: “And I will go in to the altar of my God, to God who gladdens my youth. I offer to God a sacrifice of praise, and I pay my vows to the Most High.” For I would not doubt that the altars of God are open to you, whose minds I would confidently call altars, on which Christ is offered daily for the redemption of the body. For if a virgin’s body is a temple of God, what is her mind, which, as though the ashes of the limbs had been raked away and it had been uncovered by the hand of the eternal priest, breathes out the vapor of the divine fire? Blessed virgins, who breathe so immortal a grace, as gardens with flowers, as temples with religion, as altars with the priest!

So let holy Mary shape the discipline of life; let Thecla teach how to be offered: she who, fleeing the marriage bond and condemned through the fury of her betrothed, changed even the nature of beasts by reverence for virginity. For when she had been made ready for the wild beasts, shunning even the gaze of men and offering her very vitals to the fierce lion, she brought it about that those who had brought shameless eyes took them away modest. One could see the beast lying on the ground licking her feet, testifying with a mute sound that it could not violate the sacred body of the virgin. So the beast adored its prey, and, forgetting its own nature, had put on the nature that men had lost. You might see, by a kind of exchange of nature, men clothed in ferocity commanding cruelty of the beast, and the beast kissing the virgin’s feet, teaching what men ought to do. So much admiration does virginity command that even lions admire it. Food did not move them, hungry as they were; their onset did not carry them away, roused as they were; anger did not inflame them, goaded as they were; habit did not mislead them, used to it as they were; their nature did not master them, wild as they were. They taught religion by adoring the martyr; they taught chastity too, by kissing nothing of the virgin but the soles of her feet, with eyes sunk to the ground as though ashamed, lest any male, even a beast, should see the virgin naked. Someone will say: “Why have you brought forward the example of Mary, as though anyone could be found who could imitate the mother of the Lord? Why Thecla too, whom the Teacher of the Gentiles instructed? Give us a teacher of that kind, if you require a disciple of that kind.” I bring you a recent example of that kind, so that you may understand that the Apostle is the teacher not of one but of all.

At Antioch there was lately a certain virgin who shunned being seen in public; but the more she avoided the eyes of men, the more she inflamed them. For beauty heard of but not seen is desired the more, by the two spurs of desire, love and curiosity: nothing presents itself that might please less, and what pleases is thought to be greater, since no judging eye examines it but a loving mind longs for it. So the holy virgin, so that desires might no longer be fed by the hope of possessing her, professed the integrity of her chastity, and so quenched the torches of the wicked that she was no longer loved but betrayed. Then came persecution. The girl, not knowing how to flee, and certainly fearful of falling into the hands of those who lay in wait for her chastity, prepared her mind for virtue: so devout that she did not fear death, so chaste that she awaited it. The day of her crowning came. Everyone was in the greatest expectation. The girl was brought forward, professing a twofold contest, of chastity and of religion. But when they saw the constancy of her profession, her fear for her modesty, her readiness for torments, her blushing at being looked at, they began to devise how they might take away her religion by means of her chastity, so that, when they had taken away what was greater, they might snatch away also what they had left. They order the virgin either to sacrifice or to be prostituted in a brothel. How do they worship their gods who avenge them in this way? Or how do they themselves live who judge in this way? Here the girl, not because she wavered about religion but because she trembled for her modesty, said to herself: “What are we to do? Today either martyr or virgin: one of the two crowns is begrudged us. But the name of virgin is not even recognized where the author of virginity is denied. For how can you be a virgin if you worship a harlot? How a virgin if you love adulterers? How a virgin if you seek after love? It is more tolerable to have a virgin mind than virgin flesh. Both are good, if it is possible; if it is not, let us at least be chaste not to man but to God. Rahab was a harlot, but after she believed God she found salvation. And Judith adorned herself to please an adulterer; yet because she did this from religion and not from love, no one judged her an adulteress. The example turned out well. For if she who entrusted herself to religion preserved both her chastity and her country, perhaps we too, by preserving religion, shall preserve our chastity also. But if Judith had chosen to put chastity before religion, having lost her country she would have lost her chastity too.” So, formed by such examples, and keeping in mind the words of the Lord, in which he says, “Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it,” she wept and was silent, so that the adulterer might not even hear her speak; and she did not choose the injury to her modesty but refused the injury to Christ. Judge whether she could have defiled her body who did not defile even her voice. For some time now my speech has been ashamed, and is afraid, as it were, to approach and unfold the shameful sequence of events. Close your ears, virgins. The girl of God is led to the brothel. But open your ears, virgins. A virgin of Christ can be prostituted; she cannot be defiled. Wherever there is a virgin of God, there is a temple of God; brothels do not defame chastity, but chastity abolishes even the infamy of the place. A great crowd of the lewd rushes to the place of shame. Learn the miracles of the martyrs, holy virgins; unlearn the names of such places. The dove is shut up inside; the hawks clamor outside; each strives to be the first to seize the prey. But she, raising her hands to heaven as though she had come to a house of prayer and not a lodging of lust, said: “Christ, who tamed the fierce lions for the virgin Daniel, you can also tame the fierce minds of men. The fire was as dew for those in Chaldea; the water stood up for the Jews, by your mercy, not by its own nature. Susanna knelt for execution and triumphed over the adulterers. The right hand withered that violated the gifts of your temple; now your temple itself is being laid hands on: do not allow the incest of sacrilege, you who did not allow theft. May your name be blessed now too, that I who came to adultery may depart a virgin.” She had scarcely finished her prayer, and behold, a man of fearsome soldierly appearance burst in. How the virgin trembled at him before whom the trembling people gave way! But she did not forget what she had read. “Daniel too,” she said, “had come to watch the execution of Susanna; and her whom the people condemned, one man acquitted. In this wolf’s clothing too a sheep can be hidden. Christ also has his soldiers, he who has even legions. Or perhaps an executioner has come in. Do not fear, my soul; such men make martyrs. O virgin, your faith has saved you!” The soldier said to her: “Do not be afraid, I beg you, sister. I have come here as a brother, to save your soul, not to destroy it. Save me, and you yourself will be saved. I came in as an adulterer; if you will, I shall go out a martyr. Let us change clothes: yours fit me and mine fit you, but both fit Christ. Your clothing will make me a true soldier, mine will make you a virgin. You will be well clothed, I shall be better stripped, so that the persecutor may know me. Take a garment that will hide a woman; give up one that will consecrate a martyr. Put on the cloak to conceal a virgin’s limbs and preserve her modesty. Take the cap to cover your hair and hide your face. Those who have gone into a brothel usually blush. Indeed, when you have gone out, do not look back; remember Lot’s wife, who lost her nature because she looked back, though with chaste eyes, on the unchaste. And do not fear that anything will be lost to the sacrifice. I render a victim to God in your place; you render a soldier to Christ in mine. You have the good warfare of chastity, which serves for everlasting pay; the breastplate of righteousness, to enclose the body with spiritual defense; the shield of faith, to ward off the wound; the helmet of salvation; for where Christ is, there is the protection of our salvation, since the man is the head of the woman, and Christ of the virgin.” And with these words he took off his cloak. Yet the garment was still suspect, as that of both persecutor and adulterer. The virgin offered her neck, the soldier his cloak. What a procession that was, what grace, when they contended for martyrdom in a brothel! Add the persons, a soldier and a virgin, that is, unlike each other by nature but made alike by God’s compassion, so that the oracle may be fulfilled: “Then wolves and lambs will feed together.” See, the lamb and the wolf not only feed together but are sacrificed together. What more? With her clothing changed, the girl flies from the snare, now not on her own wings, since she was borne on spiritual ones; and, what no age had ever seen, a virgin goes out of a brothel, but a virgin of Christ. But those who saw with their eyes and did not see raged at the prey like robbers at a lamb, like wolves. One, more shameless than the rest, went in. But when he had taken in with his eyes how things stood, he said: “What is this? A girl went in; a man is seen. Here is not the fable of a hind in place of a virgin, but the truth: a soldier out of a virgin. I had heard and not believed that Christ changed water into wine; now he has begun to change sexes too. Let us get away from here while we are still what we were. Am I changed too, who see something other than I believe? I came to a brothel, I see a pledge; and yet I shall go out changed: I shall leave chaste who came in an adulterer.” When the thing became known, because so great a victor was owed a crown, he who had been seized in place of the virgin was condemned in place of the virgin. So out of a brothel came not only a virgin but martyrs. The girl is said to have run to the place of execution, and both contended for death, he saying: “It is I who was ordered to be killed; the sentence acquitted you when it took hold of me.” But she began to cry out: “I did not choose you as surety for my death, but wanted you as surety for my modesty. If it is modesty that is sought, my sex remains; if blood is demanded, I want no guarantor; I have the means to pay. That sentence was passed on me which was passed for me. Surely, if I had given you as guarantor for money, and in my absence the judge had made over your property to the creditor, you would hold me to the same sentence, and I would pay off your bonds from my patrimony. If I refused, who would not judge me worthy of an unworthy end? How much greater is the interest on this capital! Let me die innocent, lest I die guilty. There is no middle course here: today I shall be either guilty of your blood or a martyr of my own. If I have come back quickly, who dares shut me out? If I have delayed, who dares acquit me? I owe more to the laws, guilty not only of my own flight but also of another’s death. My limbs suffice for death that did not suffice for outrage. In a virgin there is room for a wound, where there was none for insult. I declined disgrace, not martyrdom. I gave up my garment to you; I did not change my profession. If you snatch death from me, you have not redeemed me but cheated me. Take care, I beg you, not to contend; take care not to dare to contradict me. Do not take away the benefit you have given. When you deny me this sentence, you restore the former one; for a sentence is changed by a later sentence. If the later does not hold me, the former does. We can both satisfy the sentence if you let me be killed first. They have no other punishment to inflict on you; in a virgin, modesty is exposed to it. So you will be more glorious if you are seen to have made a martyr out of an adulteress than an adulteress out of a martyr.” What do you expect? The two contended, and both conquered; nor was the crown divided, but added. So the holy martyrs conferred benefits on each other in turn: she gave martyrdom its beginning, he its completion.

But even the schools of the philosophers have praised to the skies Damon and Pythias, the Pythagoreans. One of them, condemned to death, asked for time to settle his affairs; and the tyrant, a very cunning man, thinking that none could be found, asked him to give a surety who would be struck in his place if he himself delayed. Which of the two was more glorious I do not know; both were glorious. The one found a surety for his death, the other offered himself. So while the accused delayed his punishment, the surety with a calm face did not refuse death. As he was being led out, his friend returned, put his own head in place, and bowed his neck. Then the tyrant, marveling that friendship had been dearer to the philosophers than life, asked to be received into friendship himself by those he had condemned. So great is the grace of virtue that it bent even a tyrant. Worthy of praise; but less than ours. For there both were men; here one was a virgin, who had first to overcome even her sex. They were friends; these were strangers. They offered themselves to one tyrant; these to many tyrants, and crueler ones, since he spared and they killed. Among the former one was bound by necessity; among the latter the will of both was free. In this too the latter were wiser: for the former the goal of their effort was the favor of friendship, for the latter the crown of martyrdom; for those contended for men, these for God. And since we have mentioned that story, it is fitting to add what that tyrant thought of his gods, so that you may judge them the weaker, whom their own people mock. For when he had come into the temple of Jupiter, he ordered the golden robe in which his image was clothed to be taken off and a woolen one put on, saying that gold was cold in winter and heavy in summer. So he mocked his god, as one who could bear neither weight nor cold. The same man, when he saw the golden beard of Aesculapius, ordered it taken away, calling it unfitting for the son to have a beard when his father had none. He also took away from the images the golden bowls they held, alleging that he ought to accept what the gods gave. “For these are the prayers of men,” he said, “that they may obtain good things from the gods; and nothing is better than gold. But if gold is evil, the gods ought not to have it; if it is good, men ought rather to have it, who know how to use it.” So they were made a laughingstock: Jupiter could not defend his robe, nor Aesculapius his beard, Apollo not yet having begun to grow one, nor could all those who are called gods take back the bowls they held, not so much because they feared a charge of theft as because they had no sense. Who, then, would worship those who can neither defend themselves as gods nor hide as men? But in the temple of our God, when Jeroboam, a most wicked king, was carrying off the gifts that his father had placed there and pouring offerings to idols on the holy altar, did not the right hand he stretched out wither, and did the idols he invoked help him at all? Then, turning to the Lord, he asked pardon, and at once his hand, which had withered through sacrilege, was healed through devotion. So swift an example of both divine mercy and divine wrath appeared in one man, that his hand was suddenly taken from him as he sacrificed, and pardon given him as he repented.

These little gifts I have prepared for you, holy virgins, I, a priest of not yet three years, not trained by experience but taught by your ways. For how much experience could grow in so short a time of a religious office begun? If you see any flowers here, read them as gathered from the bosom of your life. These are not precepts for virgins but examples taken from virgins. Our speech has painted the likeness of your virtue; you see the image of your seriousness shining as in a kind of mirror of this discourse. If you have breathed any grace into our talent, whatever fragrance this book has is yours. And since there are as many opinions as there are people: if there is anything refined in our discourse, let all read it; if anything mellowed, let the older approve it; if anything modest, let it cling to the heart and color the cheeks; if anything flowery, let flowering youth not disapprove of it. We had to stir up the bride’s love, for it is written: “You shall love the Lord your God.” We had, at the wedding, to adorn the tresses of our speech at least with a kind of curling iron, for it is written: “Clap your hands and stamp your foot.” We had to strew the everlasting bridal chambers with roses. Even in these temporal marriages the bride is applauded before she is commanded, lest harsh commands should give offense before love, cherished by caresses, takes root. The spirited horse learns to love the sound of a patted neck, so that it does not refuse the yoke. In short, it is first accustomed to a playful word before the lash of discipline. But when it has bowed its neck to the yoke, the rein restrains it, the spur urges it, its fellows draw it along, its yoke-mate invites it. So our virgin too had first to play with holy love, to admire the golden supports of the heavenly bed at the very entrance of the wedding, to see the doorposts crowned with garlands of leaves, and to drink in the delights of the choir resounding within, lest she should submit to the Lord’s yoke made afraid before she bowed to it when called. “Come, then, hither from Lebanon, bride, come hither from Lebanon; you will pass and pass through.” For this little verse must be sung over to us often, so that any who does not believe human words may follow when called by the Lord’s words. This method of teaching we did not invent but received; so the heavenly teaching of the mystical song established it: “Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for your breasts are better than wine, and the fragrance of your ointments is above all spices. Your name is ointment poured out.” This whole passage of delights sounds of play, stirs applause, calls forth love. “Therefore,” it says, “the maidens have loved you and drawn you; we will run after the fragrance of your ointments. The King has brought me into his chamber.” She began from kisses so as to come to the chamber. But she is so patient of hard labor and of trained virtue that she opens the bars with her hand, goes out into the field, stays in the villages; yet at the beginning she runs after the fragrance of ointment; soon, when she has come into the chamber, the ointment is exchanged for strongholds. Indeed, see where she is going: “If she is a wall,” he says, “let us build upon it silver towers.” She who will play with kisses now raises towers, so that, towered with the precious battlements of the saints, she may not only frustrate the enemy’s attacks but also build safe ramparts of good merits.