Satyrus

ON ST. SATYRUS, CONFESSOR,

AT MILAN,

In the year CCCXCII or CCCXCIII.

PRELIMINARY COMMENTARY.

Satyrus, confessor, at Milan. (S.)

BY J. S.

§ I. The Saint's memory in the Martyrologies and his cult: the elogium written by St. Ambrose, and the Life composed from it: such chronology of his life as may be had.

[ ] Baronius in the Roman Martyrology announces today St. Satyrus, the brother of St. Ambrose, in these words: At Milan, the deposition of holy

Satyrus the confessor, The Saint's name in the Martyrologies on this day, whose remarkable merits holy Ambrose his brother commemorates. Galesinius had gone before, writing thus: At Milan, of holy Satirus the confessor, of whom St. Ambrose his brother speaks in the book which he composed on his death. He adds in his Annotations: Others keep his feast on the day after this, but the church of Milan on this very day. The Milanese Martyrology repeats the words of Baronius, and subjoins this in its Annotations: Of St. Satyrus the Roman Martyrology treats, the Ambrosian Breviary and Missal with a proper Mass, an Office of the same published at Rome under Clement X, Supreme Pontiff, for the use of the nuns of St. Ambrose, etc. A longer elogium is given by Philip Ferrarius in his Catalogue of the Saints of Italy on the same day, and there he adds these words: There exists at Milan a church dedicated to St. Satyrus, in which his body is preserved.

[2] But what is said about the body is liable to error, on which he is venerated at Milan, as is observed in the Milanese Martyrology, where about that church this is read: Anspertus de Blasono, … archbishop, took care that in nearly the navel of the city of Milan a sacred building should be erected to SS. Sylvester and Satyrus, as I have written before, in which Ferrarius falsely affirmed that the body of the divine Satyrus is preserved. For there are two other churches which contend about the Saint's body, as we shall see below, namely the church of St. Ambrose, in which there is a chapel, formerly called St. Victor's ad cælum aureum, now called St. Satyrus's, which we ourselves inspected carefully in the year 1752; and the other, that of St. Victor of the Olivetan Order, in which many inscriptions are seen pertaining to the body of the same saint, which we ourselves copied out. Now in this most splendid church of St. Victor the festivity of St. Satyrus is celebrated on the XVII of September with the rite of a double of the first class, and plenary indulgences are had. The same church has a side chapel with an altar dedicated to St. Satyrus. That a solemn memory of St. Satyrus is celebrated at Rome also, in the church of St. Ambrose, which was formerly the paternal house of both Saints, and that relics of St. Satyrus are there, Bartholomew Piazza asserts in the Hemerologium sacrum on the XVII of September. But about the cult of St. Satyrus on the XVII day of September I add no more: as for the controversy which flourishes between the two churches already named about the possession of the body, I shall set forth below what shall seem to suffice.

[3] The memory of St. Satyrus is also recalled in several of the more ancient Martyrologies, in the more ancient ones on the XVIII of September. but on the XVIII day of September. On that day the Hieronymian codices in Florentinius, after announcing at Milan St. Eustorgius the bishop, have it thus: And of holy Satyrus. The Corbie codex exhibits the bare name of Satyrus, as does also the Epternach. With these agree Rabanus, and many more contracted Martyrologies, namely the Reichenau, the Augsburg, and the Labbean in our possession, the Gellone in d'Achery, and the ancient Auxerre in Martène, tom. 3 of the Thesaurus Anecdotorum. In the same author, tom. 6 of the Collectio amplissima, col. 721, another Auxerre Martyrology has it thus: At Milan, the birthday of St. Saturus, brother of St. Ambrose the bishop. Usuard did not insert Satyrus into his Martyrology. Nevertheless his memory was afterwards added to various Usuardine codices, as also to four editions in our Sollerius, everywhere on the XVIII of September. Of these I transfer hither only Greven's announcement: At Milan, the deposition of blessed Satyrus the confessor, brother of holy Ambrose the bishop, who, setting forth his virtues in an elegant style, in the book which he entitled "On the Death of his Brother," says that he preserved the gifts of sacred baptism undefiled with a chaste body and a pure heart. I pass over several more recent Martyrologies in which the memory of St. Satyrus is inserted on the same day: and I only observe that all the more ancient ones conspire upon this day.

[4] The Saint praised in a funeral Oration by his brother Ambrose, The Acts of St. Satyrus were first written by St. Ambrose, or rather he praised him in a funeral oration, which he afterwards published. That Oration in the newest edition of the Works of St. Ambrose is published in tom. 2, col. 1113, and is called St. Ambrose's book On the Death of his Brother Satyrus. It was delivered by St. Ambrose at the very time of the obsequies, the lifeless body being present, which was to be borne to the sepulcher, and which meanwhile lay with the face covered. In it the holy doctor narrated the remarkable virtues of his Brother, and inserted some historical facts. Yet he neither set forth all the Saint's deeds in historical order, nor gave any chronology even of the chief matters. Hence the years in which St. Satyrus was born and died can be had only from probable conjectures. After seven days Ambrose again went to the sepulcher of St. Satyrus, and delivered another Oration to soften the common grief; and that one, published after the first, is called the book On Faith in the Resurrection.

[5] and mentioned in the second Oration spoken by the same: In it he again declares at various turns his immense love toward his dead Brother, and shows how well he thought of his happy death; but he does not mention his deeds. This, therefore, is not to be published by us, and for that reason I transfer hither a few things. He begins in this manner: In the previous book we indulged our longing somewhat, lest, as with a burning wound, harsher medicines applied should exasperate rather than soothe the grief; and at the same time, because we had often addressed our Brother and held him with our eyes, it was not absurd to relax for a little while the affection of nature, which is more fed by tears, soothed by weepings, fixed by stupor… Now, since on the seventh day we return to the sepulcher, which day is a symbol of the rest to come, it is well to draw the mind a little away from our Brother to the common exhortation of the human race, and to pour over our intention, so that we may neither be wholly fixed in our senses upon our Brother, lest affection creep upon us; nor, being exiles from so great a piety and grace, desert him whom we love. These things Ambrose brought forward, I suppose, to render a reason why in the first Oration he indulged grief somewhat more than perhaps some will believe becomes a bishop — those, that is, who love Stoic insensibility more than Christian piety and patience. Col. [ ] St. Ambrose again declares his love toward his Brother, and suggests in these words what he judges his death to be: Thou hast granted me, Brother, that I should not fear death: and would that my soul might die in thy soul! At the end of the Oration he again turns to his Brother in this manner: For what solace remains to me, save that I hope, Brother, to come the more quickly to thee, and that there will not be long separations between us from thy departure, and that by thy intercessions this can be conferred upon me, that thou shouldst the sooner call me who long for thee? More to our purpose I do not find in this Oration.

[6] Wherefore I shall reprint below only the first Oration from the newest edition, the funeral Oration is to be published, and the Life composed from it. collated with the edition of Surius, and shall illustrate it with the due annotations. But, because that Oration less presents the form of a Life, I shall add the Life of St. Satyrus, which is now published in Mombritius, tom. 2, fol. 249, without the author's name. At what time that Life was written cannot be gathered from it, just as the author's name has not become known to me. But it matters little, since that writer strove in all things to follow St. Ambrose exactly, and only wished to reduce to order what the latter had narrated in the funeral Oration without any order. This Life, therefore, I think is to be published for that reason alone, not because it has more about St. Satyrus than Ambrose has. The author of the Milanese Martyrology also names among the writers of the Life of St. Satyrus Hilarion the monk, who wrote the Lives of the Saints passed over by James of Voragine, and whose Work was printed at Milan in the year 1494. But we have no need at all of that Life, since it adds nothing to the Life published by Mombritius, which is older, or certainly it will be able to be of use only for correcting the faults of that edition. In the Martyrology already mentioned there is also mentioned a manuscript Legendary of the Franciscan sacristy, in which perhaps the Life published by Mombritius will be contained. If, however, it be another, it will not be greatly necessary, since the later biographers must have drawn everything from Ambrose.

[7] These things being observed, we shall give some points of such chronology as may be had: The Saint born between 330 and 340, for most things cannot be tied to certain years. First, the year of St. Satyrus's birth is unknown. It is established, however, that he was the middle one between his sister St. Marcellina and his brother St. Ambrose. For this Ambrose himself clearly declares at num. 16, where he says: A man middle in age between two of his kin, the one a virgin, the other a priest. He was therefore older than St. Ambrose, who is established to have been several years younger than his sister Marcellina, as was proved in the Life of Marcellina, given on the XVII day of July. Further, Tillemont, tom. 10 of the Monumenta Eccl., Note 1 on Ambrose, rightly shows that the birth of St. Ambrose is to be fixed about the year 340. Wherefore, since we do not know whether Satyrus was older than Ambrose by only one year or by several, I fix his age between the year 330 and 340. Yet I suspect that he was nearer to the year 340 than to 330, because Satyrus and Ambrose, as they were most alike in countenance, so probably were not far apart in age.

[8] in his youth he pleaded causes, then was prefect After his studies were completed, Satyrus, while he was a young man, was engaged in the forum as an advocate, as St. Ambrose also did. The latter praises his Brother's eloquence at num. 14 in these words: For why should I speak of his eloquence, proved in the stipends of the forum? With what incredible admiration did it shine forth in the lofty auditorium of the prefecture? These words not only show an eloquent advocate; but also suggest that Satyrus was a prefect. More clearly, however, at num. 17, Ambrose declares that Satyrus presided over some province, when he speaks thus about him: And so, what he was toward all, the zeal of the provincials over whom he presided shows; who used to say that he had been rather their own parent than their judge; a welcome arbiter of pious obligation, a steadfast decider of equal right. These words clearly designate the governor of some province; but nowhere do I find over what province he presided. Neither is the time of Satyrus's prefecture assigned.

[9] of some province, It is certain, however, that Satyrus was a young man while he pleaded causes in the forum, and was of no greatly advanced age when he obtained the dignity of the prefecture. For St. Ambrose was ordained bishop either in the year 374, or certainly about that year, as Tillemont well shows in Note 3 on Ambrose. And we cannot doubt that Satyrus's prefecture preceded the episcopate of Ambrose, both because Satyrus was the elder by birth, and most of all because he either always dwelt with Ambrose when the latter was bishop, or certainly, if he held the prefecture when the other was created bishop, he was not long away from him afterwards. And so Satyrus's prefecture seems altogether to be fixed before the year 374, or certainly not later than that very year.

[10] although he did not covet dignities: Ambrose, who presided over Liguria when he was made bishop, declares at num. 8 that dignities of this kind were desired neither by himself nor by Satyrus,

and at the same time hints that they were earlier than his own episcopate. How little did the honors of this world delight even us ourselves, dearest Brother, since they divided us from one another? Which we therefore obtained, not because their acquiring was to be sought after, but lest a cheap dissembling should seem to be. Or perhaps they were bestowed for this reason, that, since by thy untimely death thou wert to be the setting of our pleasure, we might already learn to live without thee. The honors of which Ambrose speaks would not have compelled the Brothers to dwell in different places, unless at the same time they had held the prefectures of different provinces. And so, while Ambrose presided over Liguria, Satyrus presided over some other province. But Satyrus does not seem to have been long away from Ambrose after the latter was promoted to the bishopric of Milan. For Ambrose always speaks of his Brother as though through the whole time of his episcopate he had had Satyrus with him, and set over his house.

[11] afterwards dwelling with his brother Ambrose, Receive, reader, some passages which will at the same time teach how great a love joined those Brothers. And shall I not seek thee, Brother? he says at num. 3, or can I ever forget thee, with whom I always bore the plows of this life, inferior in labor, but more closely joined in love?… Thou who, always solicitous with pious affection, didst fence my side with thy side, in charity as a brother, in care as a father, in solicitude as an elder, in reverence as a younger. Again at num. 7: What therefore shall I now do, since I have lost all the sweetnesses of this life, all its solaces, all in short its ornaments? For thou wert to me the one solace at home, the one grace abroad: thou, I say, wert my arbiter in counsels, the sharer of my care, the averter of anxiety, the driver-away of sorrow: thou the champion of my acts, and the defender of my thoughts: thou finally the one man in whom domestic solicitude found rest, and public care reposed. Many things of this kind I pass over: for these abundantly show that Satyrus, after Ambrose's promotion to the episcopate, was not long away from him, and thereafter never withdrew from him until death, except for a short time to transact business.

[12] From these things it is clear that Satyrus not only dwelt with Ambrose the bishop; he governed his house. He received baptism, but was at the same time steward and prefect of the episcopal house. This Ambrose asserts in other places also, and at num. 12 he observes that the correction of the servants was plainly left to Satyrus, writing thus: How free from gall was thy very indignation: how unbitter thy restraint of the very servants, since thou wouldst say that thou didst rather yield to them as brethren than avenge from affection. For our profession restrained our zeal for restraining: nay, thou, Brother, didst draw us away from every inclination to restraint, promising to avenge and desiring to soothe. But here a doubt arises about the time at which the Saint was baptized. It is certain that he was baptized on the occasion of a shipwreck, as Ambrose has it at num. 13 and 14. For where Ambrose reports his shipwreck, he says that he feared only this, lest he should depart from life void of the mystery. And at num. 14 he narrates that he was indeed then eager to receive baptism; that he was nevertheless unwilling to receive it from a schismatic, but waited until he should come to the Catholic Church. But presently, as soon as freer opportunity of the church was had, he did not delay to fulfil it; and he both received the desired grace of God, and preserved it when received. It is clear, therefore, that baptism was received by Satyrus not long after the shipwreck.

[13] But it is not equally clear at what time, or on what journey, that shipwreck happened. after some shipwreck, Tillemont in his Ambrose, art. 17, judges that that shipwreck of Satyrus happened on his last journey to Africa, and that he was baptized in Africa, from which, having afterwards returned, he died not long after. If this opinion is true, Satyrus was baptized either in the same year in which he died, or at least not a whole year's course before his death. I freely confess that the words of St. Ambrose furnish occasion for so opining. For at num. 8 he speaks thus: O deceitful gladness! O uncertain courses of human affairs! Restored from Africa, given back from the sea, saved from shipwreck, we thought that he could now not be snatched from us: but, set upon land, we endure graver shipwrecks. For the death of him whom the shipwrecks of the sea could not lead to death, being escaped by strenuous swimming, has begun to be a shipwreck to us. If anyone should consider this passage alone, he might indeed believe that the shipwreck of which St. Ambrose treats happened on the last African journey, and that the things heaped together here were not separated in time. Nevertheless, since orators sometimes join together things separated in time and place, it must be considered more diligently whether that is Ambrose's meaning: for I can hardly believe that St. Satyrus would have wished to lack baptism for many years after he began to dwell with bishop Ambrose, who writes thus about himself and him at num. 7: What use of things was not ours in common, and almost our very sight, and our sleep? What will was ever separate? What footstep not shared? So that almost, when I lifted my step, either thou didst seem to lift my body, or I thine. Hardly, I say, can it be believed that so great was the conjunction of their souls, and that even so Satyrus abstained for many years from baptism — he who for that reason could never have been present when Ambrose was performing the divine Mysteries.

[14] not on his last African journey, Besides, Ambrose himself has many things which seem quite contrary to that opinion. At num. 14 he says: His fortitude too, if anyone wishes to behold it more fully, let him consider how often after the shipwreck, with a certain unconquered contempt of this life, he crossed the seas, and traversed far-spread regions in visiting them: finally that at this very time he did not flee from danger, but came to danger. I do not sufficiently see how these things can rightly be reconciled with Tillemont's opinion. For by what reasoning is he said to have crossed the seas often after the shipwreck, and to have visited far-spread regions, if that shipwreck happened on his last journey? Nor indeed does it suffice for speaking thus if, having suffered shipwreck near Sardinia, as Tillemont believes, he went on further into Africa, and thence returned into Italy and to Milan. For this was nothing else than to complete a journey once begun. St. Ambrose is speaking, therefore, of a shipwreck long past, and of various journeys undertaken by Satyrus afterwards, as is also gathered from the following words: Finally that at this very time, etc. For he says this of the return from Africa as of a most recent fact, whereas nevertheless all things would have been done on the same journey according to Tillemont.

[15] but on another journey, and long before. Secondly, where Ambrose narrates Satyrus's shipwreck, he speaks as of a matter long past, and most of all when he sets forth the caution he used in asking for baptism, nor does he add any word by which he hints that these things happened on the last journey. Thirdly, when at num. 5 he narrates Satyrus's return from his last journey, he makes no mention of his shipwreck, but mentions the sickness with which he had labored, in these words: How was my mind dismayed at the news of thy sickness? Fourthly, at num. 8 Ambrose mentions the dangers of that journey thus: I called thee back, Brother, that thou shouldst not thyself seek Africa, but rather appoint someone else. I feared to commit thee to the road, to trust thee to the waves, and a greater fear than usual had come upon my mind. But thou didst both accomplish the journey, and settle the business, and, in an old and leaky ship, as I hear, didst again trust thyself to the waves, etc. Again nothing here about a shipwreck, which nevertheless would there most of all have had to be mentioned, if it had happened on that journey. Wherefore in the passage given at num. 13, which presently follows, Ambrose is speaking of some shipwreck long past. Fifthly and finally, when at num. 14 Ambrose had briefly touched on Satyrus's eloquence in the forum and in the prefecture, he subjoins: But I prefer to praise those things which, the Mysteries of God being received, he reckoned to be better than human things. By these words he seems to hint either that he was baptized in the prefecture itself, or not long after the prefecture. Certainly he would have had few things to say about his deeds after baptism, if he had received it in Africa before his last return, after which he died. These things I have judged should be disputed a little more at length, lest a holy Man, and the brother and housemate of St. Ambrose when already a bishop, should seem to have deferred baptism almost until his death.

§ II. Various opinions about the year of the Saint's death are refuted, and the time at which he seems to have died is assigned.

[ ] The Saint died after his return from Africa, It remains to investigate the time at which St. Satyrus passed from this life to the eternal. St. Ambrose does not assign the year, but at num. 8 and 6 clearly says that Satyrus died after his return from Africa. And he seems to have returned by way of Sicily, and to have died a short time after his return; since St. Ambrose at num. 6 has it thus: And indeed to thee, almighty eternal God, I give thanks that thou didst not deny us even these last consolations, that thou didst confer on us the longed-for return of a most loving Brother from the Sicilian or African regions: for so speedily, after he came, was he snatched away, as though for this alone he seemed to have been delayed, that he might return to his brethren. Secondly, that return seems to have been undertaken in winter time. For Ambrose at num. 14 praises that return, and Satyrus's fortitude, in that he came to danger, enduring injury, heedless of cold. From these two observations it can hardly be believed that Satyrus died on the XVII of September, on which he is venerated. For thus after his return he would have survived at least five months, which from other considerations too will become less likely.

[17] Thirdly, Satyrus returned and died when there was great fear in Italy, when the greatest fear was at Milan, and at Milan by name. Hence Ambrose at num. 9 says: He was snatched away, lest he should fall into the hands of the Barbarians: he was snatched away, lest he should see the destructions of the whole world, the end of the earth, the funerals of his kin, the deaths of citizens, and finally — what is bitterer than any death — the defilement of holy virgins and widows. About the same things he then addresses his Brother thus at num. 10: For with what mercy of a holy mind wert thou toward thine own, that, if thou now knewest Italy pressed by so near an enemy, how greatly wouldst thou groan, how wouldst thou grieve that the sum of our safety stands in the rampart of the Alps, and that a wall of modesty is built of felled timbers? With what affliction wouldst thou mourn that by so slender a division thine own are kept from the enemy, from an enemy impure and cruel, who would spare neither chastity nor life. Further, that fear was already impending while St. Satyrus was in Africa or on his journey. For, as Ambrose has it a little after, Symmachus was dissuading Satyrus from returning, because Italy was said to be ablaze with war, because thou wert making toward danger (he says to his Brother), because thou wert running upon the enemy; thou didst answer that this very thing was thy cause for coming, that thou mightest not be wanting to our danger, that thou mightest show thyself a sharer in thy brother's peril. And so the terror lasted not for a short time, but for a long while.

[18] Fourthly, Satyrus died when his sister holy Marcellina was at Milan. and while his sister Marcellina was living there. This,

which also avails for investigating the time of Satyrus's death, someone has wrongly denied, and others have neglected. But it is clear that Marcellina was with Ambrose when Satyrus returned and died. At num. 10 Ambrose addresses his Brother about her thus: Certainly thou art happier (in thy death) than our holy sister, who, bereft of thy solace, anxious for her own modesty, lately blessed in two brothers, now made wretched out of two brothers, can neither follow the one (namely Satyrus, now dead) nor forsake the other: to whom thy tomb is her lodging, and the sepulcher of thy body is her home. And would that even this were a safe inn! These things most clearly demonstrate that Marcellina was at that time at Milan. No less clearly does he show the same at num. 22 in these words: But what shall become of our holy sister, who, although she tempers her affection with divine fear, yet again kindles the very grief of affection by her zeal of religion — laid upon the ground, and embracing the whole tomb in her bosom, wearied with toilsome going, sad in feeling, renews her mourning by days and nights? He adds more about his sister's grief. But these things suffice for us to understand that Marcellina was at Milan: and therefore it is not necessary to bring forward more by which this very thing can be proved. And so let us now investigate more closely the year in which St. Satyrus died.

[19] The Saint's death is not to be fixed in the year 378 or 379, Tillemont in Note 8 on St. Ambrose fixes St. Satyrus's death in the year 378 or 379, following Hermant, who in the Life of St. Ambrose, book 2, chapter 15, sets down nearly the same epoch. But that opinion appears to me plainly improbable, because St. Marcellina was not at that time at Milan, as I shall show below; nor are Tillemont's reasons of any weight. He says that in the year 378 there could have been alarm in Italy, because the Alemanni had crossed the Rhine near Basel. But that reason is plainly frivolous, since they were far away, and the emperor Gratian had already conquered them in the month of May, as Tillemont himself relates in tom. 5 of the Emperors, in Gratian, art. 6. He adds another reason for terror which could have been in Italy in the year 378 or 379. For the Goths in the year 378, on the IX day of August, won an immense victory over Valens, emperor of the East, near Adrianople in Thrace, and, Valens being slain, laid waste various provinces, as Ammianus reports in book 31, chapter 16, and at last came even to the roots of the Julian Alps, if we believe Ammianus. But it can hardly be believed that the Goths advanced so far in that year, since after the victory they first attempted Adrianople in vain, and thence led their army toward Perinthus and Constantinople. Certainly Jordanes, De Rebus Geticis, chapter 26, having reported the victory of the Goths and the miserable death of Valens, only subjoins: At which time the Visigoths, after the glory of so great a trophy, began to inhabit Thrace and Dacia Ripensis, as though they had gained possession of their native soil. There is added that in these provinces they were afterwards frequently conquered by the emperor Theodosius, but not near the Julian Alps. Wherefore I should believe that Ammianus is speaking of a certain incursion of the Goths which happened later, while Theodosius was sick, as Jordanes has it in chapter 27. Whatever it be, St. Ambrose could not have said in the year 378 that the sum of Italy's safety stood in the rampart of the Alps, since at that time the emperor Gratian was with his army in Pannonia, and therefore could easily watch the Goths, if they had wished to make for Italy.

[20] nor does Tillemont prove that he died Another reason of Tillemont's for fixing St. Satyrus's death not many years after the beginning of Ambrose's episcopate is drawn from these words of Ambrose at num. 8: In short, that which we two had been unable to conclude, thou alone hast fulfilled. Prosper was applauding himself, as I hear, because on the occasion of my priesthood he did not think he would have to give back what he had carried off: but he found thy efficacy, of one man, more vehement than that of two. And so he paid all, etc. On these words Tillemont rightly observes that St. Satyrus probably undertook the African journey on account of that business, after which he died. For the following words of Ambrose altogether hint at this, when he goes on thus to address his Brother: Thou hast accomplished everything, and when, having discharged all, thou didst return, thou alone art snatched from us, who art to be preferred to all; as though thou hadst therefore deferred death that thou mightest consummate the office of piety, and bear away the palm of efficacy. And so I freely acknowledge that that business was finished a little before St. Satyrus's death.

[21] But not equally good is the other observation which Tillemont adds to this for his own purpose. in the earlier years of Ambrose's episcopate: He judges that that controversy was begun before Ambrose's episcopate, because Ambrose and Satyrus had begun that business together and had been unable to conclude it. But I rather believe that the matter was begun by Ambrose when bishop and by his brother, but modestly, and not before judges, because Ambrose as bishop was unwilling to litigate about a temporal matter before judges. For that very reason, no doubt, Prosper was applauding himself and believed that on the occasion of Ambrose's priesthood he would not be compelled to give back what he had taken. But he could not persuade himself of that on that occasion, unless Ambrose had really been a priest. Wherefore those words have nothing at all which could persuade us that Satyrus died in the earlier years of Ambrose's episcopate.

[22] Baronius at the year 383, num. 14, judges that St. Satyrus died in that same year 383. nor is his death to be fixed in the year 383, In the present year, he says, the death of his brother Satyrus occurred, as can clearly be understood from this, since the same Ambrose says that he was called back by letters of Symmachus, that he should not come from Africa into Italy, Italy itself being ablaze with civil war, namely when Maximus was said to be about to lead an army into Italy (as we shall say). Thus far Baronius. But that opinion does not seem more probable than the preceding. For that terror of which St. Ambrose speaks, and of which Symmachus was warning Satyrus, certainly was not in Italy before the death of Gratian, who had crossed with an army into Gaul against Maximus. After Gratian's death the coming of the tyrant Maximus could really be feared; but Ambrose himself, after Gratian's death was heard of, did not long remain at Milan. For immediately, when Gratian's death had become known in Italy, Ambrose set out into Gaul to Maximus as the legate of the younger Valentinian, and made peace with him. And so the death of Satyrus can rightly be fixed neither before Ambrose's legation, because after the terror arising from that death Ambrose did not long remain at Milan; nor after the legation, because Ambrose in that legation established peace with Maximus. It cannot therefore be said that St. Satyrus died in the year 383 after Gratian's death, as is clear from other considerations too: for St. Marcellina, Satyrus's sister, was not at Milan in the year 383.

[23] Other writers have fixed St. Satyrus's death in the year 387, nor in the year 387, in which the tyrant Maximus suddenly burst from Gaul into Italy, and came to Milan, the emperor Valentinian fleeing, and occupied all Italy. There is indeed no room for doubt that a great terror was then in many cities of Italy. Nevertheless Ambrose does not seem to speak of that disturbance, nor is St. Satyrus's death to be fixed in the year 387. For Maximus burst into Italy when Valentinian was least of all anxious about that matter, whose legate Domninus he had by wiles brought to such an opinion that he believed Maximus zealous for keeping peace with Valentinian. Let us hear on this matter Zosimus, book 4, page 767, where he narrates that Domninus was sent as legate by Valentinian to Maximus, and subjoins: And so when Domninus had come to Maximus, all the heads of his legation being set forth, he was received with all deference and courtesy. For Maximus both honored him with exceptional honor, and sated him with so great a mass of gifts, that Domninus judged the emperor Valentinian would have no friend equal to him. And Maximus could so far deceive Domninus that he even sent with him a part of his own army, which should be an aid to the emperor against the barbarians who threatened the Pannonias subject to him. After Domninus, having obtained these things, had departed, and was pleased with himself on account of the abundance and greatness of the gifts which he had received, and of the escort of allies granted him; unwittingly he made the road leading from the Alps homeward easier for Maximus. Which Maximus, foreseeing that it would be so, and for that reason all things being made ready, followed with all his forces, guards being silently sent ahead upon the road, who took every care that no one, passing by at speed, should announce Maximus's crossing into Italy to the companions of Domninus, etc. By this guile, as follows, with all speed he entered Italy, no one hindering, and nothing remained for Valentinian but to flee as swiftly as possible. And so Ambrose is not speaking of this irruption, but is speaking of an enemy who had not yet crossed the Alps. It is also established that Satyrus did not die in the year 387, because in that year Marcellina was not at Milan.

[24] since St. Marcellina did not dwell at Milan But this head, by which the three opinions already reported are at once refuted, must here be established. St. Marcellina received the veil of virginity at Rome from Pope Liberius, as we have from Ambrose in book 3 On Virgins, chapter 1. She then went on to dwell at Rome with other virgins for not a few years, when St. Ambrose was already bishop, as is gathered from various sources. For first, we have from Epistle 5 of St. Ambrose that holy Marcellina, Satyrus and Ambrose being absent, dwelt at Rome with Indicia the virgin, and testified about her that she had given herself to no familiarity of vices, and that she desired that a portion in the kingdom of God should be reserved for herself with her by the Lord Jesus. These things hint that Indicia lived with Marcellina long enough; and since they dwelt together at Rome while Ambrose was absent, it can scarcely be doubted that they dwelt there together while he was bishop. That Epistle is indeed fixed by the editor about the year 380; but without any argument by which it could be proved that it was not equally written in the year 390. Secondly, Marcellina seems to have lived at Rome with other virgins when in the year 377 St. Ambrose wrote to her the three books On Virgins. Certainly nowhere does Ambrose hint that she was then at Milan. On the contrary, in book 3, chapter 14, he suggests that she was the mistress of other virgins. For he exhorts her to relax somewhat of her excessive rigor in fasting, that as mistress she may be preserved for an age nearly equal to her own. She was therefore the mistress of virgins at Rome, not at Milan.

[25] before the year 388, Thirdly, this is gathered from the Epistles of Ambrose written to Marcellina, in which he informs her about things done at Milan. Among these the first in order among the Ambrosian letters of the newest edition is the twentieth, which Ambrose thus begins: Since in almost all your Letters you anxiously ask about the Church, receive what is being done. Then he sets forth at length how bravely he resisted the younger Valentinian when demanding a church for the Arians, which things are fixed in the year 385 by Tillemont in his Ambrose, art. 38, and by the editor of the Epistle. The other is Epistle 22, in which the Saint sets forth to his sister the finding of the bodies of SS. Gervasius and Protasius, referred by Tillemont in art. 47 to the year 386.

The third is the forty-second among the Ambrosian letters, in which Ambrose narrates to Marcellina what passed with the emperor Theodosius, after the victory won by him over the tyrant Maximus. This is fixed in the year 388. From these things, therefore, it becomes most likely that St. Marcellina remained constantly at Rome until the year 388, and perhaps even a year or two longer. Nevertheless it is established that she afterwards dwelt with her brothers at Milan, whither she could have come about the year 390, certainly between 388 and 392: for I should not easily believe that a sacred and holy virgin came to Milan only to visit her brothers and then return to Rome.

[26] St. Marcellina was at Milan when Indicia the virgin was accused, and yet was dwelling there when Satyrus died. with whom she had formerly dwelt at Rome, as is certainly gathered from the fifth Epistle. That event, therefore, seems to be fixed about the year 390. Marcellina was at Rome when St. Ambrose was gravely ill some months before St. Satyrus's death, as is clear from these words of Ambrose at num. XI, directed to Satyrus: In short, lately, when I was pressed by a grave and — would that it had been — a final falling away, this only did I grieve, that thou thyself didst not sit by my little bed, and, sharing with our holy sister the office I desired, close the eyes of the dying with thy fingers. Again it is gathered from the words of Ambrose at num. 5 that Marcellina was with Ambrose for some time before Satyrus's death, since he says: Although our holy sister survives, venerable in her integrity, equal in character, not unequal in offices, yet we two feared more for thee, we thought the delight of this life laid up in thee, etc. Further, that Marcellina had not come to her brothers in order to return afterwards to Rome is again gathered from the words of Ambrose at num. 10, where he says about her: She can neither follow the one (brother, namely Satyrus) nor forsake the other. Then he subjoins about himself: For what shall I say of myself, to whom it is not permitted even to die, lest I leave my sister, etc. If neither could Ambrose desire death, nor Marcellina, lest the one should leave the other, they had therefore determined to live together thenceforward: for they could be of little solace to each other if the one dwelt at Milan and the other at Rome. There is added the Life of St. Marcellina, given on the XVII of July, in which it is said that, after she had professed virginity at Rome and had dwelt there, she came to Milan to her brothers, and dwelt there with them, and died in the same city after her brothers. About her burial, finally, no one doubts. All confess that she was buried at Milan. Some, however, have judged that she died at Rome and wished to be buried at Milan, and they gather this from her epitaph. But the epitaph does not prove this, nor is the thing itself likely. But in whatever place she died, she was at Milan when Satyrus died; and since she does not seem to have been there before the year 388, the death of St. Satyrus is not to be fixed before that year.

[27] Wherefore some other danger of Italy must be sought, and it seems to be found clearly enough after the death of Valentinian II, The death of St. Satyrus is therefore to be fixed slain at Vienne in Gaul in the year 392, in the month of May. For that slaying must not only have created the gravest grief for Ambrose, but also have brought immense dread upon Italy, especially upon the Christians, since Arbogastes, by whose crime Valentinian had been slain, was both a barbarian and a heathen, and could drive Eugenius, whom he had taken care to substitute for Valentinian, to anything whatever. About this death Ambrose in Epistle 53 writes thus to the emperor Theodosius: The discourse of your clemency has broken my silence: for in matters so sad I had resolved to do nothing better than, if it could be done, to hide myself away. But because I could not lie hidden in some retreat, and could not go out of my priesthood, at least I lay hidden within myself in silence. Of the same times he writes this in Epistle 59 to Severus the bishop: But we, exposed to barbarian commotions and to the storms of wars, are engaged in the midst of a sea of all troubles, etc. Paulinus in the Life of St. Ambrose, num. 26, sets forth how bravely, in the time of Valentinian, Ambrose had withstood the granting to the Gentiles of the altar of victory and the expenses of the ceremonies. Then he subjoins: But after Valentinian of august memory ended his life in the city of Vienne (which is a city of the Gauls), Eugenius took up the empire: who, when he began to reign, not long after, at the request of Flavianus, then prefect, and of Arbogastes the count, granted the altar of victory and the expenses of the ceremonies — which Valentinian of august memory, being still set in his younger years, had denied to those who asked — forgetful of his own faith.

[28] between the death of Valentinian II When the priest learned this, leaving the city of Milan, to which that man was coming in haste, he departed to the city of Bologna, and thence went on as far as Faenza. And when he had spent some days there, being invited by the people of Florence, he went down as far as Tuscany, shunning rather the sight of a sacrilegious man than fearing the injury of the ruler: for he also sent a Letter to him, in which he addressed his conscience, etc. That flight of St. Ambrose is to be fixed in the year 393: for Eugenius does not seem to have crossed the Alps before the year 393, both because he had a war in Gaul against the Franks, and because he first sent legates to the emperor Theodosius to ratify peace with him, as Zosimus narrates in book 4, page 776. These things being observed, which Tillemont also admits in his Theodosius, art. 77, we shall easily find at about what time St. Satyrus died. For everything clearly suggests that he died between the death of Valentinian II and the coming of Eugenius into Italy. To this time all things agree which St. Ambrose said in the funeral Oration, as is now to be shown.

[29] and the coming of the tyrant Eugenius Ambrose complains in the Oration about the movements of the barbarians, asserts that the gravest evils threaten his own people, and grieves that the sum of his people's safety stands in the rampart of the Alps. All these things were most true toward the end of the year 392 and the beginning of the year 393. For the army of Eugenius consisted for the great part of barbarians, and a barbarian it was who commanded not only the army but Eugenius himself. Let us hear Orosius, a writer of those times, book 7 of the Histories, chapter 35. Valentinian Augustus being dead, he says, Arbogastes presently dared to create Eugenius tyrant, and chose a man on whom he might impose the title of emperor, himself about to wield the rule — a man barbarian in mind, in counsel, in hand, in daring; and excessive in power, he gathered from every side innumerable and unconquered forces, whether of Roman garrisons or of barbarian auxiliaries, resting in one place upon his authority, in another upon kinship. And so he was a barbarian, a Frank by nation, and a heathen, who governed as it were the whole army, and led a very great multitude of barbarians. With these things, therefore, what Ambrose says about barbarian movements agrees excellently.

[30] into Italy, But how greatly Ambrose ought to have feared them along with his own people, Paulinus teaches in the Life, num. 31, writing thus: For Arbogastes, then count, and Flavianus the prefect (also a heathen), as they were going out of Milan, had promised that, when they should return victorious, they would make a stable of the basilica of the church of Milan, and would test the clergy under arms… And this was the cause of the commotion, that the gifts of an emperor who had mixed himself with sacrilege were rejected by the church, nor was the fellowship of praying with the church granted him. Not undeservedly, then, did Ambrose fear them even before their coming. Finally, the third point was equally true, namely that the safety of the church of Milan stood in the ridge of the Alps alone, when toward the end of the year 392 or the beginning of the year 393 Ambrose was speaking. For there was no one present who would dare or be able to bar Eugenius's army from entering Italy. Only the ridges of the Alps covered with snows could throw in delay in the winter season.

[31] To the same time agrees what Ambrose says, that Symmachus affirmed namely toward the end of the year 392 that Italy was ablaze with war, in order to persuade Satyrus not to return to Milan. For doubtless there were many dissensions in the cities of Italy when Eugenius the tyrant had been elected, while some wished to receive him as emperor, and others refused to acknowledge him. It also appears excellently how that terror of Italy could have begun long before Satyrus's arrival, and still have lasted after his death, namely because Eugenius did not at once march toward Italy. To the same time agrees the counsel of the dying Satyrus, which Ambrose, addressing him, reports thus: Who even with thy last breath … didst often admonish us about guarding against an incursion of the barbarians, recalling that thou hadst not said in vain that we must flee. For indeed Ambrose followed that counsel, as we have already seen at num. 28. Finally, at that time Marcellina seems to have been with her brothers at Milan, since we have no Epistle of Ambrose to her after the year 388. Wherefore all the statements of St. Ambrose agree aptly with the time which runs between the death of Valentinian II and the coming of Eugenius into Italy; nor can the death of St. Satyrus be fixed so probably at any other time as in the year 392 or 393.

[32] If it were sufficiently established on what day the Saint died, one or the other of the said years could certainly be assigned. or the beginning of the year 393: the day of his death is unknown. But neither St. Ambrose mentions the day of his death, nor the biographer who followed Ambrose. The Hieronymian Martyrologies indeed have St. Satyrus on the XVIII of September; but that seems to have been done on the occasion of St. Eustorgius, bishop of Milan, with whom St. Satyrus seems to have been commemorated, because the day of his death was unknown. The Milanese in fact venerate St. Satyrus on this XVII day of September, and for that reason he was inserted into the Roman Martyrology on this very day. But from the day of the festivity we cannot safely deduce the day of death, especially in these circumstances, since it is established that the day of the festivity is fixed at pleasure when the day of death is not established, unless some other reason underlies the choosing of a particular day. And so we can draw nothing certain for the day of St. Satyrus's death from the Martyrologies or the cult, especially since the words of St. Ambrose rather hint that the Saint died in the winter season. For, speaking of his return, after which he died, he praises the Man's fortitude, in that he returned heedless of cold. Wherefore the winter seems at least to have begun while Satyrus was on the journey; and since he died not long after his return, his death is certainly to be fixed in that winter in which the year 392 was ended and the year 393 begun: nor can I safely assign the time more closely.

§ III. The controversy about the possession of St. Satyrus's body: the Saint buried in the Portian church, at St. Victor's, where the body was afterwards preserved.

[ ] The controversy about the body of St. Satyrus About the body of St. Satyrus there is a long-lasting controversy between two churches, or rather between two distinguished monasteries of Religious Orders, each of which attributes it to its own church. About each church (one of them is more correctly called a chapel) our Henschen has already set forth some things on the VIII of May, in St. Victor Maurus, the illustrious martyr of Milan, by whose name each was at one time distinguished. One of these churches was formerly called Portian from its founder Portius. Of this St. Ambrose frequently makes mention in Epistle 20 to his sister Marcellina,

where he narrates how much he had to contend that that Portian church — which is also called by him afterwards the extramural basilica and the old one — should not be handed over to the Arians, the empress Justina attempting in many ways to seize it for her Arians. In the same place he mentions the new basilica also, writing thus: And now it was not the Portian, that is, the extramural basilica, that was demanded; but the new basilica, that is, the intramural one, which is the greater. Which that new basilica may be, I do not here examine, because it does not conduce to our purpose; I only observe this, that the Portian basilica was already old in the time of Ambrose.

[34] between the Olivetan monks of St. Victor's, Further, that Portian basilica afterwards began to be called St. Victor's ad corpus; nor is there any doubt that those words ad corpus were added that it might be distinguished from the other churches of St. Victor which are at Milan. That church of St. Victor ad corpus was possessed for some centuries by Benedictine monks, until in the year 1507 the Olivetan monks succeeded in their place, who first built a very ample monastery, then also a new basilica. And on this occasion, when the old basilica was destroyed, the bodies of the Saints were translated from it into the new one in the year 1576 by St. Charles Borromeo, who also found and translated the body of St. Satyrus together with the body of St. Victor. The judgment of this holy Cardinal archbishop seems to have been such as ought to have sufficed for the patrons of the opposing side to acquiesce, and to consider that it was the body of another Saint which they had believed to be Satyrus's; but they, as frequently happens in like cases, did not altogether lay aside their preconceived opinion about St. Satyrus's body being preserved among them. And so let us illustrate their church and chapel too in a few words.

[35] and the Cistercian monks of St. Ambrose's, Among the churches founded at Milan by St. Ambrose there is one which, even while he was alive, was called the Ambrosian. Of it the holy doctor makes mention in Epistle 22 to Marcellina, where he treats both of its dedication and of the bodies of SS. Gervasius and Protasius, very recently found, being brought into it, about which he writes thus: On the following day we translated them into the basilica which they call the Ambrosian. This Ambrose wrote in the year 386, in which was dedicated that ample Ambrosian basilica which still exists, and which we ourselves inspected carefully in the year 1752, as also the already mentioned basilica of St. Victor, and the chapel of St. Satyrus presently to be mentioned. Beside the Ambrosian basilica is a very ample monastery of the Cistercian Order, for whose use one part of the Ambrosian church serves: but in the other part the clergy discharge their ministries. Between the Ambrosian basilica and the monastery of the Cistercians is the chapel of St. Satyrus, on whose outer wall we saw this sufficiently recent inscription: Chapel of St. Satyrus, formerly called St. Victor's ad Cælum aureum, repaired on the outside in the year of the Lord MDCLXXI.

[36] who have the chapel of St. Satyrus. Raphael Moneta, an Olivetan monk, in the Work in which he vindicates the body of St. Satyrus for the basilica of St. Victor, and which he entitled The tomb of St. Satyrus the confessor … illustrated, in section 3, page 72, observes that that chapel of St. Satyrus does not seem to be anything but one of the chapels of the Ambrosian basilica, although a little out of the order, and separated from the principal one in which the monks keep the most august Sacrament of the Eucharist. Such indeed did that chapel appear to me, nor, as I looked at it, did the thought ever occur that this was a particular church. The praised author then subjoins this: But the length of that little Satyrian building does not exceed twelve, and the breadth eight, ells, four of which make nearly one Roman ten-foot measure. So small a chapel, and one so joined to the Ambrosian, has always been reckoned a member of it, since it has no other access except through it. John Peter Puricelli, doctor of sacred theology and archpresbyter of the Laurentian church, in the Work which he wrote on the Monuments of the Ambrosian basilica, num. 19, discourses much about the antiquity of that chapel, and hints that it seems older than the Ambrosian basilica. Yet he does not bring forward arguments by which we are compelled to attribute so great an antiquity to that chapel. He tries to persuade us that it was the church of Fausta, which is certainly older than the Ambrosian, and of which Ambrose makes mention in Epistle 22 to Marcellina. But that suspicion is contrary to the common opinion of the Milanese, and has already been abundantly refuted by the praised Moneta in section 3. This is true, which Puricelli also proves, that that chapel was formerly called St. Victor's ad cælum aureum.

[37] These things being observed about both buildings, namely about the basilica once Portian, Satyrus was buried at the left hand of St. Victor M.; afterwards St. Victor's ad corpus, and about the chapel of St. Satyrus, which was formerly called St. Victor's ad cælum aureum, I shall so set forth the burial, finding, and translation of St. Satyrus's body that from these the prudent reader may sufficiently understand in which church the Saint's body now seems to be preserved. Dungal, a writer of the ninth century, in his book of Responsions against Claudius of Turin, published at Antwerp in the year 1572, pages 108 and 109, has it thus: For this reason, as I judge, Ambrose buried his brother Satyrus, whom he had loved exceedingly, beside the holy martyr Victor… Whose epitaph he composed in this quatrain:

To Uranius Satyrus his brother Ambrose paid the last honor at the martyr's left hand. This is the reward of his merit, that the moisture of sacred blood, penetrating, may bathe the neighboring remains.

On this epitaph, which Dungal attributes to Ambrose himself, a few things are to be observed. First, from this epitaph some have believed that our Saint was called Uranius Satyrus. But I rather believe that the Greek word οὐράνιος, in Latin cælestis, great, lofty, was added to the name for honor's sake, especially since the words Uranius and Uranicus were also in use among the Latins in the middle age, as may be seen in Du Cange's Glossary. Certainly Satyrus is read to be called Uranius in no other place. Secondly, both parties to the dispute agree that it is Victor Maurus at whose left hand St. Satyrus was buried.

[38] The Life to be given below has it at num. 12 that the sacred body was first carried by Ambrose's order to the Ambrosian basilica; and, being buried, he lay in the Portian basilica: and it subjoins: Which nevertheless he buried with his own hands in another basilica far off, [at] the left hand of the glorious martyr. Hilarion the monk has plainly the same. But now about that other basilica in which St. Satyrus is said to have been buried, there is a marvelous contention between Puricelli, fighting for the chapel of St. Satyrus, and Moneta, rightly expounding the place of the Portian basilica, or St. Victor's ad corpus. For this explanation flows from the passage of Dungal itself. For, on his testimony, and with Puricelli agreeing, St. Satyrus was buried beside St. Victor Maurus. But this Saint lay buried in the Portian basilica, which was therefore afterwards called St. Victor's ad corpus. And so St. Satyrus too was buried in the Portian basilica. Further, it is so certain that St. Victor was buried in the Portian basilica, and so received by the common consent of writers, that Puricelli himself at fol. 29 did not dare altogether to deny it. Yet since he saw that on that reasoning Satyrus's burial must necessarily be placed there too, he attempted to escape in another way, and imagined that the body of St. Victor was translated before the death of St. Satyrus, and carried to the chapel already mentioned. But what he has invented about that translation is plainly improbable, and has been abundantly refuted by Moneta. Besides, all writers everywhere have handed down that the body of St. Victor Maurus was not only buried in the Portian basilica, but was also afterwards preserved in the same, which the finding at last confirmed.

[39] in the same basilica, therefore, Satyrus was buried. Contrary to Puricelli also are the words alleged from the Life, He buried him in another basilica far off. For the chapel of St. Satyrus does not deserve the name of a basilica; and certainly it is not another basilica than the Ambrosian, of which it ought rather to be held a part. I for my part far rather believe that that chapel was not yet built, but was afterwards joined to the basilica. That it was a church older than the Ambrosian certainly cannot be proved to have already then existed: nor is it at all likely that St. Ambrose would have wished to build an ample basilica near a chapel. Yet Puricelli fights with various weapons to escape from a passage inconvenient to his opinion, and suspects the text to be corrupt. Wherefore from two Mss. he teaches that the place should be read thus: In another basilica not far off, at the left hand of the glorious martyr Victor, etc. Let us grant for the moment that this is the true reading, because many things have been published faultily in Mombritius; Puricelli will gain nothing. For not even so can we suppose that the body was buried in the chapel of St. Satyrus, both because it is not a basilica, much less another than the Ambrosian, and because St. Victor did not lie buried there. But to the Portian church, which was formerly the cathedral, either reading rightly agrees. For it was a basilica far other than the Ambrosian: it was also a basilica not far distant from the Ambrosian, since the distance between the Ambrosian and the basilica of St. Victor ad corpus is small; it was also enriched with the body of St. Victor, at whose left hand St. Satyrus was placed.

[40] Puricelli's objection, drawn from uncertain conjectures, Puricelli has an objection from the fact that the body is said to have been carried first to the Ambrosian basilica, and he proposes it in these words: But neither does this otherwise seem credible, that, if Ambrose had wished Satyrus to be buried in the Portian basilica, he should first carry him to this Ambrosian one, here recite the funeral oration to the people, here celebrate the Sacrifice of the Mass for him. For what forbade him to perform these very things conveniently in the Portian? Which, as it had formerly been the metropolitan church, why should it not be capacious enough also for the people who would assemble at Satyrus's funeral? But certainly this basilica of holy Victor ad cælum aureum was not so. Wherefore this seems far more credible, that on account of its narrowness and nearness Ambrose preferred that the funeral should be carried straight to the Ambrosian, and the funeral solemnities be performed there, so that, all these things being performed in this basilica, nothing else remained but that the corpse should be given to a tomb in the neighboring basilica of holy Victor ad cælum aureum. Wherefore this too would follow, that in this very place holy Victor, martyr and Moor, and companion of the holy Nabor and Felix, would rest together in the same urn with the same Satyrus: which seems marvelous to hear. Marvelous indeed, but not so far from the truth. So he, acutely enough, if the matter were only to be settled by reasoning.

[41] being sought from uncertain conjectures, has no force, But in that reasoning some things are held for certain which are by no means certain. First, it is not altogether certain that the body of St. Satyrus was first carried to the Ambrosian basilica, and the solemnities performed there, although the anonymous author of the Life published by Mombritius handed this down, with others following him: for that writer is not so ancient

as to be able to make the matter certain by his authority. Secondly, it is by no means certain, nay, it is even little likely, as I warned above, that that chapel of St. Satyrus, or of St. Victor ad cælum aureum, already existed in the time of St. Ambrose. But even if we should wish to feign that both are most certain, St. Ambrose would have done nothing absurd if he wished to praise his Brother before the assembly in one church and to bury him in another, so that the funeral procession might be longer, and perhaps also that the Ambrosian basilica, which surpassed the Portian in size, might better hold the immense multitude hastening to the obsequies. So, when he had found the bodies of SS. Gervasius and Protasius, as he himself narrates in Epistle 22 to Marcellina, he translated them first, evening now coming on, to the basilica of Fausta. Then on the following day, he says, we translated them into the basilica which they call the Ambrosian. And so neither is Ambrose said to have done anything unlikely, nor, on account of any excess of likelihood whatever, are things to be called into doubt which from other sources are sufficiently certain.

[42] Such is the existence of the body of St. Victor Maurus in the Portian basilica, which thence drew the name of St. Victor ad corpus. [since the existence of St. Victor in his own church has been most solidly proved.] Puricelli confesses that it seems marvelous if that body is in the chapel of St. Satyrus, because he could bring forward no writer who had ever affirmed it, because he had against him a cloud of witnesses, a perpetual tradition, the very name of the church of St. Victor ad corpus, and finally the finding of the body attested by authentic records. Moneta praises not only writers who testify that the body of St. Victor is preserved in the Portian basilica; but at the end of his Work he also brings forward from the archive of St. Victor's seven ancient diplomas which contain the same about St. Victor's body. And those seven diplomas, in which it is clearly asserted that the body of St. Victor is preserved in his own church, and which are partly of the eleventh century, partly of the twelfth, Francis Coratus, public notary, testifies that he saw and examined in the archive. Further, about the number of witnesses who have affirmed that the body of St. Victor rests in his own church, and about the perpetual tradition, Moneta in section 5, page 157, speaks thus in general: In all ages (venerable antiquity) has proclaimed and venerated the body of Victor Maurus in the Portian. It would be very burdensome and superfluous to review the authors of all ages who have handed this down. It will be enough to affirm what no one hitherto has called into doubt. Concerning the divine Satyrus indeed it has been judged by some that he rests outside the Portian, namely in the Ambrosian, since the aforesaid epitaph, teaching that he was associated with the martyr Victor in the sepulcher, had not yet been discovered and declared from Dungal… But concerning the body of St. Victor Maurus, who indeed ever doubted, much less denied, that it rests in his own basilica, called on that account "ad corpus"? Thus far Moneta, to whom I add no more on these matters. Nevertheless I think it should here be briefly hinted that a manuscript Dissertation was very kindly communicated to us by the Reverend Fathers of St. Ambrose's, whose author tried to show that the Portian basilica was not the one which afterwards had that name and was then called St. Victor's ad corpus, but the chapel of St. Satyrus. But since that opinion seems to me to lack a foundation, and to be incapable of being reconciled with what St. Ambrose says about the Portian basilica, I have preferred not to allege the Dissertation rather than to refute it.

§ IV. The finding and translation of the bodies of SS. Victor and Satyrus to the new church: the translation of their heads into silver caskets.

[ ] When the bodies were to be translated into the new basilica, The existence of the body of St. Victor in his own church, and of the body of St. Satyrus buried beside Victor, was excellently confirmed in the year 1576, when, a new church having been built by the Olivetan monks, the old was to be destroyed, and therefore the relics to be translated from the old into the new. At that time St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal of the Holy Roman Church, a man conspicuous for remarkable learning, prudence, and holiness, presided over the church of Milan. And he, being asked by the abbot and monks of St. Victor's either himself to be willing to inspect the relics which they believed themselves to have in the old church, or to delegate others for it, since he himself, as the Acts of the notary have it, being hindered by other business, could not for the time attend to this office, gave charge to the reverend presbyter lord Louis Moneta to inspect the place and the chests in which they had been placed. And he carefully examined these, no chest, however, being opened, and reported to the most illustrious lord bishop himself. But afterwards the most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal himself came thither, and inspected and examined the same, and also opened a marble chest which had been sunk behind the high altar, namely between that altar and the coffin of SS. Victor and Satyrus, of which below, etc. Those Acts, because they are very prolix, I am not pleased to transcribe entire.

[44] [St. Charles Borromeo orders the sepulcher of SS. Victor and Satyrus to be surveyed first:] I shall transfer hither only what pertains more closely to SS. Victor and Satyrus, or to the diligences performed by St. Charles, about which a little after it is subjoined: And since other relics too had to be reviewed and taken up, and among others the body of St. Satyrus, who had been placed in a stone chest with St. Victor the martyr, as is described below; and since about this St. Satyrus there was some controversy with the reverend monks of St. Ambrose's, in order that the truth might appear, he gave charge to the reverend lord Joseph Mascardus his vicar both to review the other relics and to prepare them for translation, and diligently to inspect and consider that sepulcher itself in which the bodies of those SS. Victor and Satyrus were said to be. And he, inspecting that sepulcher, recognized upon it certain letters which bore the name of that holy Satyrus, of which below, and took the other relics out of the chests, and prepared them in the manner here described. There follows an enumeration of the relics found by Mascardus on Friday, the thirteenth of July MDLXXVI. But he has nothing about the coffin of SS. Victor and Satyrus.

[45] he afterwards opens it himself: and the bodies, when found, But their sepulcher St. Charles himself opened, as the Acts in Moneta, page 359, have it, in this manner: But afterwards the most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal archbishop came thither again, who opened that sepulcher of SS. Victor and Satyrus, examined the bodies, considered the inscriptions, took them up, and prepared them for translation, as is here described: On Friday, the twentieth of the month of July MDLXXVI. In the presence of the most illustrious and most reverend lord Charles, Cardinal-presbyter of the title of holy Praxedes, there was found under the high altar of the church of St. Victor a certain marble box, made of six stones cohering with one another by leaden plates, in which were found the bodies of the most glorious saints Victor the martyr and Satyrus the confessor, distinguished from one another by a clear interval. For the body of St. Satyrus was at the left of St. Victor, and on his head there rested a brick stone (a sign of the greatest antiquity), on which these words were read written, namely S. Satyr.: but at the right of St. Satyrus was placed the body of St. Victor, having resting on it a brick stone altogether similar in every way to the aforesaid, on which these words were read, namely, S. Victor, of which the letters V and T were written in retrograde fashion. There follow the names of the witnesses present at these things, among whom is named the abbot of St. Ambrose's himself. But these things may be seen on the VIII of May in St. Victor, where at num. 3 this part of the instrument is given from Puricelli.

[46] The names of the witnesses being recited, the Acts go on thus: After this the said bodies of the saints Victor and Satyrus were taken out of the said marble chest, [placed in wooden caskets, he transfers them to the sacristy, where by others the bones are separated from the ashes.] and laid in wooden boxes with the ashes, and these were sealed and stored in the sacristy of the old church with the other boxes of the bodies of other Saints already before laid up in it, and the gate or door was closed with a key and sealed with the seal of the Blessed Virgin of the aforesaid most illustrious Cardinal, and of the said abbot of St. Victor's. Straightway the key was consigned to the keeping of the most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal. And on the following day, by the order and command of the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal, the reverend lord John Francis of the Basilica of Peter, and the reverend lord Rodolph della Cruce, primicerius of the greater church, came to the said sacristy, which they found closed and sealed in the same order in which it had been closed and sealed on the previous day, and, clothed in surplices and lights being kindled, with the sacristan and other monks of the said monastery standing by and assisting; first they drew out the body or bones of St. Victor from the said wooden box, laying them upon a linen cloth, and the bones were picked out from the ashes, and they wrapped the ashes themselves in a linen cloth for the purpose of laying them in the urn. Secondly the body of St. Satyrus was drawn out in the manner above, and, the bones being picked out from the ashes, they wrapped the ashes themselves in another linen cloth for the purpose stated above. And the bones were laid back or restored in their wooden boxes, as they had been before. Which boxes were afterwards sealed with two seals for each of them with the seal of St. Victor.

[47] All which boxes of the bodies of the Saints remained in the said sacristy until the present day, St. Charles solemnly carries the bodies to the new church: on which they were solemnly translated, with a solemn procession going before, as below, to the new church. Hence it is that, the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend lord cardinal and archbishop so ordering, and he being present, the clergy both secular and regular having been summoned into the greater church with the chapter of the reverend lords called the ordinary cardinals of the church, and of the officials of the aforesaid cathedral church of Milan, with the most excellent senate standing by, and the magnificent lord vicar and the twelve of the provisions of the said city of Milan, and a great crowd of people, going in procession they withdrew from the said greater church, and in procession came to the new church, and presently to the old basilica of St. Victor, in which the most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal archbishop, clothed in pontifical vestments, together with the cardinals called ordinary solemnly clothed in copes, lifted upon their shoulders the seven boxes of the relics and bones of the Saints, and, since on account of the small interval between the old and the new church, and the long ranks of the clergy, the procession went further, going around some part of the city, and when they had come to St. Ambrose the Greater's, the reverend father abbots and senior cowled monks of the said congregation took up the burden. And when they had returned to the said square, there beside the bridge the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal archbishop and the other so-called ordinaries again took up those boxes, and carried them to

the new building of St. Victor with a very great abundance of lights.

[48] and there he places them on the altar, until the divine offices were performed. And all those boxes or chests being set down upon the high altar of the said church, the rogations were chanted, and by the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal many collects of the Saints were recited. Presently also Mass was celebrated in chant by the ordinaries of the greater church: and a sermon having been made by the most illustrious and most reverend bishop himself, he withdrew from that church, and by his order the aforesaid boxes remained upon the said altar until the hour of Vespers. At which hour the most illustrious and most reverend Cardinal himself returned, and gave charge that the said boxes, or wooden chests, should be taken up and laid away and guarded in the crypt beneath the altar of the said church. And so it was done in the presence of the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal archbishop, being in the crypt of the said church of the name of St. Victor, and by the charge and order of that most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal an examination was made of the wooden boxes and of the seals impressed upon them, and it was found that no fraud or violence had been done, and that all were unviolated and found safe. And straightway he ordered those wooden chests to be opened, and the bones and bodies of the Saints to be drawn out of them, and those to be laid in boxes or chests of lead, made for this purpose.

[49] Then the bodies, placed in leaden boxes, Presently there follows the transposition of the bones into the leaden boxes, which three abbots performed in the presence of St. Charles Borromeo, namely Clement, abbot of St. Victor's; Philip of Milan, one of the visitors of the Olivetan congregation and abbot of the blessed Virgin Mary of the place Nerviano; and Jerome de Armatis of Cremona, abbot of the monastery of the blessed Virgin of the place Bedagium. But omitting the review of the other relics, I pass to the fifth and sixth boxes, about which on page 368 this is read: The fifth wooden box, sealed with two seals of St. Victor, inscribed S. V.: in which are the bones of St. Victor with his head. The sixth wooden box, sealed as above, with the inscription S. S., in which are the bones of the body of St. Satyrus with his head. For these two bodies were laid away in a leaden box, with a partition between, in the very order which is read in the aforesaid visitation of the twentieth day, made by the most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal, namely on the right side, marked S. Vict., was laid away the body of St. Victor in red sendal, with the head wrapped in red sendal on account of the separation of the chin; and in that part of the box was placed the brick stone with the inscription of reversed letters, S. Victor, which was found in the old marble chest, as is read in the aforesaid visitation. And on the other side of the said leaden box, marked S. Satir, was laid away the body of St. Satyrus in green sendal, with the head wrapped in green sendal, with the baked stone, S. Satyrus, found in the old chest, as is read above.

[50] Which leaden box was closed with a leaden cover, and deposited under the high altar, as were the ashes in urns. and soldered with lead, as above. And it was carried up into the church to the high altar, and beneath that altar laid in a marble chest with a little iron window on the Gospel side. Upon which chest these words are inscribed: namely:

THE BODIES OF SS. VICTOR, MARTYR, AND SATYRUS,

CONFESSOR, LAID AWAY UNDER THE HIGH ALTAR

OF THE ANCIENT BUILDINGS: THENCE, UNDER GREGORY

XIII, SUPREME PONTIFF, THEY WERE SOLEMNLY

TRANSLATED HITHER BY CHARLES, CARDINAL

OF THE TITLE OF ST. PRAXEDES, ARCHBISHOP, UPON

THE SEVENTH OF THE KALENDS OF AUGUST MDLXXVI.

Which holy bodies being laid away in the said high altar, there were also placed the ashes of the said holy bodies of Victor and Satyrus in two urns of baked earth of green color, one at the right and the other at the left of the altar: upon which these words are inscribed, namely:

GATHERED FROM THE SEPULCHER OF THE SAINTS

VICTOR, MARTYR, AND SATYRUS, CONFESSOR.

These things being so performed, since it had grown late and the hour was far advanced, the aforesaid most illustrious and most reverend lord Cardinal ordered that the laying away of the other boxes should be deferred, etc. I pass over the deposition of the other relics, that from the same Acts of the notary I may add what remains about SS. Victor and Satyrus.

[51] On the XXVII day of the month of July, as is read on page 372, The deposition of the rest of the ashes in another urn: Clement, abbot of St. Victor's, and the two other abbots praised above, before witnesses beyond every exception, came to the high altar of the said new church, in which on the previous [] day had been laid the leaden box soldered with lead with the bodies of SS. Victor and Satyrus, and with the two urns: and that altar being visited, it was found closed, as it had been closed the evening before: and then, the marble stone or cover being lifted, in it the aforesaid lords abbots placed another white urn of baked earth, in which had been placed the rest of the ashes gathered from the aforesaid bodies of SS. Victor and Satyrus: and this on the side or part of the Epistle of the said altar: and straightway the cover was replaced, and it was closed round about with iron plates soldered with lead.* The rest pertains to other relics. These Acts, which comprise together many instruments of different days, are read subscribed by three notaries, or rather by four, and it is noted at the end by the third notary on the fifth day of September MDLXXVI, namely by the vicar general of the Cardinal archbishop himself, Cæsar de Bland.

[52] Further, to preserve the memory of this translation, an inscription placed to preserve the memory of the matter. Gregory Raynoldus the abbot, after a hundred years, took care that these words should be cut in stone, which are placed beside the choir on the Gospel side above the door:

STAY, CITIZEN. VENERATE THE SACRED BODIES OF

SS. VICTOR, MARTYR, AND SATYRUS, CONFESSOR,

LAID AWAY UNDER THE HIGH ALTAR,

WHICH, HAVING ONCE RESTED IN THE PORTIAN

BASILICA, AND HAVING BEEN EXAMINED BY ST. CHARLES CARD.

BORROMEO, ARCHBISHOP OF MILAN, THE RELIGIOUS

FATHERS, THE PIOUS ZEAL OF THE OLIVETAN

FAMILY CONSENTING, LAID UP IN THE NEW CHURCH

MAGNIFICENTLY BUILT IN THE YEAR MDLXXVI. NOR

DO PRAYERS FALL VAIN THAT REST UPON THE TWOFOLD

PATRONAGE OF THE SAINTS, OF WHOM THE ONE

CONSECRATED THIS SOIL WITH HIS BLOOD, THE OTHER

BY HIS VIRTUES EXPRESSED HIS BROTHER ST. AMBROSE.

LORD GREGORY RAYNOLDUS, ABBOT OF THIS

MONASTERY, WISHED THIS MONUMENT OF THE SOLEMN

TRANSLATION, ATTESTED BY PUBLIC RECORDS,

TO STAND, IN THE YEAR MDCLXXVI.

Thus far concerning the translation of the bodies themselves.

[53] In the year 1602 the heads of SS. Victor and Satyrus In the year 1602, on the XXIII day of March, the heads of SS. Victor and Satyrus were taken away from the aforesaid place and enclosed in silver caskets, Federico Borromeo, the nephew of St. Charles by his brother, then governing the church of Milan. The Acts of this translation the often-praised Moneta published after the preceding. Of these I shall transfer hither only what shall seem necessary for knowledge of the things done, the rest being omitted. The notary Antony Cerrutus first narrates that from the Acts made in the time of St. Charles Borromeo it is established about the heads of both Saints, deposited together with the bodies in the chest under the altar; then he goes on thus: And since the aforesaid reverend abbot and monks of the said monastery of St. Victor, on account of the distinction of the said relics, but chiefly of the heads of the said SS. Victor and Satyrus, and on account of their reverence, honor, and devotion toward the said Saints, and to this end, that for the sake of stirring up piety and devotion they might be exposed on suitable days to the pious faithful of Christ, and be carried in processions after the custom, had taken care that two silver caskets of great weight and value should be made, in one of which the head of the same St. Victor, and in the other the head of St. Satyrus, might be laid away, and had for this requested the illustrious and most reverend doctor of both laws, lord Antony Seneca, dean of the greater church of Milan, who, that he might satisfy the pious and honorable petition of the aforesaid reverend abbot and monks, and for the full and complete execution of all and each of the aforesaid, on this present day, together with me the undersigned notary, betook himself to the said basilica of St. Victor, and there the most reverend lord Seneca himself, clothed in a cope, together with the much reverend father Don Michael, abbot of the said monastery, likewise clothed in a cope; and the reverend lord Philip of Milan, abbot of Viboldone, went out from the sacristy, the monks of the said monastery going before with four torches.

[54] separated from the bodies, And prayer being made before the high altar, while a motet was sung on the organ. And that high altar being opened, and the upper marble slab removed, the things contained in it were examined: and in the shaft of the altar, in the middle, was found a great leaden casket, whose lid was soldered with lead, so that it could in no way be opened. On the right an urn of green color: on the left side likewise two urns, the one green, the other of red color. In the corner of the altar near the red urn certain vessels like channels, in which perhaps are ashes. And that leaden box being drawn out and placed upon a table, the aforesaid most reverend lord Seneca incensed it, and, an examination of it being made, it was found marked on the right side S. V., and on the other side S. Sa., and that the relics were wrapped, those indeed of Victor, marked S. V. on the front part, in red silk: but those of St. Satyrus, marked S. Sa., in green silk on the hinder part. The red veil being removed, there was found among very many sacred bones of St. Victor, in one part the head of the same St. Victor, wrapped in red silk.

[55] and enclosed in silver caskets, These things being thus examined, the aforesaid most reverend Seneca, together with the much reverend father abbot above written, laid back the smaller parts of the head, namely the chin and some teeth, separated from the rest of the head and wrapped in the same silk, into the same box in the place where they were before. But the upper part of the head, entire except for the chin, was wrapped in a new red veil, and laid in a silver casket, honorably made for the purpose stated above. And two teeth were laid apart in a silver pyx for the most illustrious Cardinals Borromeo and Sfondrato… Then, the green veil being removed, in the other part beyond the partition there were likewise found very many bones, so that it was full of the bones of St. Satyrus, and among the rest a head wrapped in a green veil, with a very ancient brick, inscribed S. Satyr. These likewise being thus examined, the aforesaid most reverend Seneca and the abbot above written, two teeth being laid apart in the same pyx for the aforesaid most illustrious lords, and then the relics of St. Satyrus being covered with a clean corporal, wrapped the entire head in a new white veil, and laid it in an honorable silver casket for the purpose stated above.

[56] And these things being performed, the aforesaid most reverend lord Seneca, they are transferred to a greater shrine above the altar: and the aforesaid reverend abbots, having taken up the silver caskets, made a procession around the church under a canopy, the monks going before with lights: and thence they went to the confession,

where, the caskets being laid upon the altar, Mass was celebrated by the aforesaid most reverend lord Seneca. Meanwhile the aforesaid casket, covered with its lid and soldered with lead, was laid back in the said altar in its own place. Then the urns and the aforesaid casket were covered with a silken cloth, which they call brocatelle, of golden color. Then the shaft of the altar was covered with an entire unpolished silken stone: then the table of the altar was set above, as it was before, and made firm to the shaft with mason's work and with certain iron keys and with lead … And when Mass had been celebrated, the aforesaid silver caskets, in which the sacred heads were enclosed, were laid away in the reliquary which was constructed above the altar of the confession: whose iron grating is fortified with four keys, made with different smith's work; besides pilasters of walnut, outwardly adorned or painted with gold, with the following words. On the right pilaster: "The suffrages of the Saints are to be sought." On the left pilaster: "That they themselves may supplicate for the Church." Bede. Thus far the instrument, which is confirmed by an enumeration of witnesses and by the subscriptions of notaries.

[57] The Olivetan Fathers wish to preserve the memory of this translation also by an inscription cut in stone in their church, an inscription set up about these things. which runs thus:

THE HEADS OF SS. VICTOR AND SATYRUS, ONCE

INSPECTED BY ST. CHARLES, TAKEN OUT OF THEIR COFFINS

AND ENCLOSED IN SILVER CASKETS, WITH THE CONSENT OF

THE EMINENT CARD. FEDERICO BORROMEO, ARCHBISHOP OF MILAN,

WERE PLACED IN GOOD LIGHT IN THE YEAR MDCII. THE PIETY

OF THE OLIVETAN ORDER COULD NOT SUFFER THE TWIN

STARS OF THE HOROSCOPE OF ITS HAPPINESS TO LIE HIDDEN

ANY LONGER. YOU HAVE THEREFORE TREASURES NO LONGER

BURIED IN THE GROUND, BUT SET FORTH FOR THE GAINS

OF PRECIOUS RELIGION, BY WHICH NOT SO MUCH THE EYES

AS THE HEARTS MAY GROW RICH. THEY SET UP THIS

MONUMENT OF THE MATTER MDCLVI.

There is also another inscription about this translation, placed on the hinder part of the high altar, which we ourselves copied out there in the year 1752 with the rest; but I omit it, because those given suffice. For the rest, I know indeed that Puricelli and the Cistercian Religious of St. Ambrose's do not acquiesce in all these things. But I judge that the judgment of St. Charles Borromeo, joined with the reasons alleged, ought to suffice for the prudent reader, so that he should no longer doubt about the genuineness of the bodies of SS. Victor and Satyrus. I have therefore preferred to pursue brevity rather than to examine at length any reasonings whatever, since Moneta seems to have done that abundantly.

hesterna* (yesterday's)

ACTS, OR FUNERAL ORATION

By St. Ambrose.

From the newest edition of the Works of St. Ambrose, collated with the edition of Surius.

Satyrus, confessor, at Milan. (S.)

BHL Number: 7509

BY ST. AMBROSE.

CHAPTER I.

Ambrose speaks with wondrous affection about the death of his Brother; sets forth the remarkable charity by which they were most closely joined to one another, and reviews the various offices of Satyrus.

[ ] Ambrose's affection, at his Brother's death, We have escorted forth, most beloved brethren, my victim, an undefiled victim, a victim pleasing to God, my lord and brother Satyrus. I remembered that he was mortal, nor did that judgment deceive me, but grace superabounded. And so I have nothing to complain of; but I have that for which to give thanks to God: because I always desired that, if any disturbances awaited either the Church or me, they should fall rather upon me and upon my house. Thanks to God therefore, that in this fear of all, when all things are suspect from barbarian movements, I have passed through the common sorrow by a private grief, and there has been turned upon me ^a whatever I feared for all. And would that it were consummated here, so that my grief might be the redemption of the public grief. Nothing indeed did I have, dearest brethren, among human things more precious than so great a Brother, nothing more lovable, nothing dearer. But public things surpass private. If anyone should ask his own judgment too, he would rather be slain for others than live for himself. For therefore did Christ die according to the flesh for all, that we might learn not to live for ourselves alone. There is added this, that I cannot be ungrateful to the Divinity. For there is more cause to rejoice that I had such a brother than to grieve that I have lost a brother: for the one is a gift, the other a debt. And so I have enjoyed [*], as long as it was permitted, the loan granted me: he who deposited the pledge has received it back. It makes no difference whether you deny a deposit or grieve at its restoration. For in either there is a doubtfulness of faith, a peril of life. Or if to deny money is a fault, is it piety to deny a victim? Since the lender of money can suffer that, but the Author of nature and the creditor of our bond cannot be defrauded? And so the more abundant the sum of the loan, the more welcome is the interest of the principal.

[2] permitting all things to the divine will: the common grief Whence we cannot be ungrateful about our brother, because what belonged to common nature he has rendered: what is of singular grace he has merited. For who would refuse the common condition? Who would grieve that his own pledge has been snatched from him, when for our solace the Father delivered his only Son to death for us? Who should think himself exempt from the condition of dying, who has not been exempt from the condition of being born? A great mystery of piety, that the death of the body was not exempted even in Christ: and although he was the Lord of nature, yet he refused not the law of the flesh which he had taken on. And is it necessary for me to die, but was not necessary for him? Or he who says about his servant ^b, If I will that he so remain until I come, what is that to thee? — could he not himself have so remained, if he willed? But by the perpetuity of this life he would have lost his own prize, and me my sacrifice. What therefore is a greater solace to us, than that Christ also died according to the flesh? Or why should I weep more vehemently for my Brother, when I know that that piety could not die? Why should I alone above the rest weep for him whom you all weep? I have dissolved private grief in the common grief: especially since my tears profit nothing, but your tears build up faith and bring consolation. You weep, you rich, and by weeping you prove that riches laid up help nothing toward salvation; since death cannot be deferred by the price of money, and the last day snatches away rich and poor with equal usage. You weep, you old men, because in this you fear the lot of your children. And therefore, since you cannot prolong the life of the body, train your children not for the use of the body, but for the office of virtue. You young men weep also, because the end of nature is not the ripeness of old age. The poor also have wept, and — what is far more precious and far more abundant — with their tears they have washed away his faults. Those are redeeming tears, those the groans which hide the grief of death: that is the grief which by the abundance of perpetual gladness overlays the feeling of the old sorrow. And so, although the funeral is private, yet the weeping is public: and therefore the weeping cannot be long-lasting which is consecrated by the affections of all.

[3] For why should I weep for thee, my most loving Brother, about the death of Satyrus, with whom Ambrose was most closely joined, who wert so snatched from me that thou mightest belong to all? For I have not lost the use of thee, but exchanged it. Before, inseparable in body: now, undivided in affection. For thou remainest with me, and shalt always remain. And indeed, when thou didst live with us, never did our native land snatch thee from me, nor didst thou ever prefer our native land to me. And now thou hast furnished another: for I have begun to be no longer a stranger here, where the better portion of me is. For never was I wholly in myself, but in the other was the greater part of us both: yet we were both in Christ, in whom is both the sum of the universe and the portion of each. This tomb is dearer to me than my native soil, in which is the fruit not of my nature, but of my grace. For in that body which now lies lifeless was the more excellent function of my life: because in this body too, which I bear, is the more abundant portion of thee. And would that, as to thy memory and to thy favor, so also to thy life, we could breathe this whatever it be that we breathe, and that half of my times might fall away, to be added to the use of thine. For it were fitting that they whose patrimony of goods was always undivided should not have the time of their life divided. Or certainly that we who always had an undistinguished partnership in living should not have a distinguished one in dying. But now, Brother, whither shall I go forward, or whither shall I turn? The ox seeks the ox, and thinks himself not whole, and with frequent lowing testifies his loyal affection [*], if perchance he has lost the one with whom he was wont to draw the plow with his neck. And shall I not seek thee, Brother, with whom I always bore the plows of this life? Inferior in labor, but more closely joined in love; not so much fit through my own strength as endurable through thy patience: thou who, always solicitous with loyal affection, didst fence my side with thy side, in charity as a brother, in care as a father, in solicitude as an elder, in reverence as a younger. Thus in the degree of a single bond thou didst expend upon me the offices of many bonds, so that in thee I seek not one lost, but many: in whom alone flattery was unknown, piety expressed. For thou hadst nothing to add by pretense, who hadst comprised all by piety, so that thou didst neither receive increase nor await return.

[4] who excuses his tears by the example of Christ. But whither, forgetful of my office, mindful of thy grace, do I go on with immoderate grief? The Apostle calls me back, and as it were puts reins upon my mourning, saying, as you lately heard: We would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them that sleep, that you be not sorrowful, even as others who have no hope. Pardon me, dearest brethren. For not all of us can say: Be ye imitators of me, as I also am of Christ ^c. But if you seek an author for imitating, you have him whom you may imitate. Not all are fit for teaching: would that all were apt for learning. But we have not contracted a grave fault by our tears ^d: not all weeping is of unbelief or of weakness. One thing is the grief of nature, another the sadness of distrust, and it makes a great difference to long for what you have had and to mourn for what you have lost. Not grief alone has tears; gladness too has its own tears. And piety stirs up weeping, and prayer waters the couch, and supplication, according to the prophetic saying, washes the bed. They also made a great weeping for themselves, when the patriarchs were buried. Tears therefore are the signs of piety, not the enticements of grief. I too have wept, therefore, I confess: but the Lord also wept. He for another, I for a Brother. He in one wept for all: I in all shall weep for thee, Brother. He wept with our affection, not his own. For the Divinity has no tears: but he wept in him who ^e was sorrowful: he wept in him who was crucified, who died, who was buried. He wept in him of whom today the Prophet suggested to us, saying: Mother Sion, a man shall say, and a man was made in her, and the Most High himself founded her. In this he wept, that he called Sion mother, being begotten in Judea, taken up from a Virgin. But a mother according to the Divinity he could not have, who is the author of his mother. He was made, not by a divine generation, but by a human: because Man was made, God

was born. As you have also elsewhere: A child is born to us, a son is given to us. For in the child is the name of age, in the son the fullness of the Divinity: made from a Mother, born of the Father: yet the same both born and given, you are not to think him diverse, but one. For there is one Son of God, both born of the Father and sprung from a Virgin, in a distant order, but with the name running together into one, as the present lesson also teaches, since both a man was made in her, and the Most High himself founded her: a man indeed in body, most high in power. Even if God and man in diversity of nature, yet the same, not another, in both. One thing therefore is proper to his own nature, another common with us, but in both he is one, and in both [] perfect. It is not therefore to be wondered at that God made him both Lord and Christ. He made him Jesus, therefore — him, that is, who received his name from the body. He made him of whom the patriarch David also writes: Mother Sion, a man shall say, and a man was made in her.* But being made man, he is indeed unlike, not in Divinity but in body: nor separated from the Father, but taken up into the office: remaining in the fellowship of power, set apart in the mystery of the passion.

[5] This place demands more discussion, by which we might be able to show the authority of the Father, the propriety of the Son, the unity of the whole Trinity; but today I have undertaken the part of consoling, not of discussing: although to draw the mind away from mourning by the intention of discussing may be a use of consolation. Ambrose's affection toward his Brother, But my mourning is rather to be tempered than my affection alienated: so that my longings may rather be soothed than lulled to sleep. For it is not pleasing to go far away from my Brother, and to be withdrawn by other business: since this discourse has been undertaken as it were for the sake of accompanying him, that I may the longer follow him in feeling as he sets out, and may embrace with my mind him whom I hold with my eyes. For on him it is pleasing to fix the whole edge of my eyes: with him to linger with all the offices of the soul, to court him with all the compliance of endearments, while the mind is stunned: nor do I believe him lost, whom I still discern present: nor do I think him dead, whose offices I do not yet miss — offices to which I had made over the use of my life and every gift of my breathing. For what shall I render for so great a grace, for so great a labor? I had made thee, Brother, my heir: thou hast left me thine. I desired thee to survive: thou hast left me surviving. For thy gifts, that I might repay thy benefits, I used to render prayers: now I have lost my prayers too, but yet I have not lost thy benefits. What shall I do, the successor of my own heir? What shall I do, the survivor of my own life? What shall I do, deprived of this light which I take in? What thanks, what gifts shall I render thee? Thou hast nothing from me but tears. Or perhaps, secure of thy merit, thou dost not seek the tears which alone I have surviving. For even while thou wert still alive thou didst forbid me to weep: and thou didst testify that our mourning, rather than thy death, was a grief to thee. My tears forbid me to go further, and weepings call me back. Thy grace too forbids me: lest, while we bewail our own state, we should seem to despair of thy merits. But certainly thou dost even lessen for us the bitterness of this mourning: I have nothing to fear, who used to fear for thee: I have nothing which the world can now snatch from me. Although our holy sister survives, venerable in her integrity, equal in character, not unequal in offices: yet we two feared more for thee, we thought the delight of this life laid up in thee. For thy sake it was pleasant to live, for thy sake it was no burden to die. For we both prayed that thou shouldst survive; to survive thee brought us no joy. When did my mind not shudder, when a fear of this kind stirred it? How was my mind dismayed at the news of thy sickness? Alas for our wretched opinion: we thought him restored whom we see only delayed. For we now learn that by thy prayers before the holy martyr Laurence ^f a furlough was obtained; and would that thou hadst asked not only a furlough, but also a long span of life. Thou couldst have obtained very many years of living, who couldst obtain a furlough for coming.

[6] And indeed to thee, almighty eternal God, I give thanks, he gives thanks to God for his return, and grieves at his death, that thou didst not deny us even these last consolations, that thou didst confer on us the longed-for return of a most loving Brother from the Sicilian or African regions. For so speedily, after he came, was he snatched away, as though for this alone he seemed to have been delayed, that he might return to his brethren. I have plainly a pledge with me, which now no journeying can tear from me. I have remains which I may embrace. I have a tomb which I may cover with my body. I have a sepulcher upon which I may lie: and I shall believe that I shall be the more commendable to God, in that I rest above the bones of a holy body. Would that I could thus have set my body also against thy death! Hadst thou been sought with swords, I would have given myself rather to be pierced for thee. Could I have called back thy departing soul, I would have offered my own instead. It profited me nothing to have drunk in thy last gasps: nothing to have breathed my breath into the mouth of the dying. For I thought that I should either take upon myself thy death, or pour my own life into thee. O those unhappy, yet sweet, last pledges of kisses! O wretched embraces, amid which the lifeless body grew stiff, the last breath vanished away! I clasped thee indeed in my arms, but I had already lost him whom I held: and I gathered up thy last breath with my mouth, that I might drink in fellowship with thy death. But somehow that breath became to me a breath of life, and in that very death breathed forth a greater grace. And would that, if I could not prolong thy life with my breath, at least the vigor of thy last gasp could have been poured into my mind, and our affection might have breathed in that purity and innocence of thy soul! This inheritance, dearest Brother, thou wouldst have left me, which would not strike the affection with tearful grief, but commend the heir with a memorable grace.

[7] reviewing his manifold offices, What therefore shall I now do, since I have lost all the sweetnesses of this life, all its solaces, all in short its ornaments? For thou wert to me the one solace at home, the one grace abroad. Thou (I say) wert my arbiter in counsels, the sharer of my care, the averter of anxiety, the driver-away of sorrow. Thou the champion of my acts, and the defender of my thoughts: thou finally the one man in whom domestic solicitude found rest, and public care reposed. I call thy holy soul to witness that in the buildings ^g of the church I often feared this, that I should displease thee. In short, when thou didst return, thou didst rebuke the delay: so that at home and abroad thou wert a kind of instructor and arbiter of the bishop, in that thou wouldst not suffer me to think of domestic matters, and didst judge that I should care for the public. So that I fear I may seem to speak arrogantly. For this is a portion of thy praise, that without any offense thou didst both govern thy brother's house and commend his priesthood. I feel indeed that in recalling thy offices and reviewing thy virtues my mind is stirred, but yet in that very affection of mine I find rest: and these recollections, although they renew my grief, yet bring delight. Can I either not think of thee, or ever think of thee without tears? And shall I ever be able either not to remember so great a Brother, or to remember him without a certain tearful thankfulness? For what was ever pleasant to me which did not proceed from thee? What was ever a delight to me without thee, or to thee without me? What use of things was not ours in common, and almost our very sight, and our sleep? What will was ever separate? What footstep not shared, so that almost, when I lifted my step, either thou didst seem to lift my body, or I thine? But if at any time one had to go forth without the other, thou wouldst think thy side uncovered, thou wouldst discern a stricken countenance, thou wouldst judge the mind sorrowful: the accustomed graciousness did not shine forth, nor the wonted vigor: solitude, suspect to all, brought fear of some sickness. So new did it seem to all that we should be divided. I certainly, forgetful ^h of my brother's absence, would often turn my neck and seek him as though present, and seemed to myself to address and behold him face to face. But, as it were a yoke hung upon my neck, when I had fallen away from my hopes, I thought I was dragging it: slow to go forward, ashamed to be seen, and hastening to return, because it was no pleasure to go on without thee. But when both of us had to go forth, there were not more footsteps on the road than words, nor was our going more frequent than our speech, nor was there care of walking, but the pleasure of conversing. For each of us hung upon the other's mouth. We did not read the road with intent gaze, but each received the other's anxious discourses, drank in the graciousness of his eyes, breathed the delight of a brother's image.

[8] How silently did I marvel with myself at thy virtues! How did I applaud myself and his shrewdness and his last African journey. that the Lord had granted me such a Brother, so chaste, so effective, so innocent, so simple: so that when I considered thy innocence, I despaired of effectiveness; when I saw thy effectiveness, I did not suppose innocence: but thou didst join both by a certain marvelous virtue. In short, that which we two had been unable to conclude, thou alone hast fulfilled. Prosper was applauding himself, as I hear, because on the occasion of my priesthood ⁱ he did not think he would have to give back what he had carried off: but he found thy effectiveness, of one man, more vehement than that of two. And so he paid all, neither ungrateful to thy moderation nor mocking thy modesty, but thankful for thy restraint, nor insolent toward thy effectiveness. But for whom, Brother, didst thou seek those things? For we wished the reward of thy labors to be the same as the proof of them. Thou hast accomplished everything, and when, having discharged all, thou didst return, thou alone art snatched from us, who art to be preferred to all: as though thou hadst therefore deferred death that thou mightest consummate the office of piety and bear away the palm of effectiveness. How little did the honors of this world delight even us ourselves, dearest Brother, since they divided us from one another: which we therefore obtained, not because their acquiring was to be sought after, but lest a cheap dissembling should seem to be. Or perhaps they were bestowed for this reason, that, since by thy untimely death the setting of our pleasure was to come, we might already learn to live without thee. Indeed I acknowledge the foreboding dread of a presaging mind, as I often go over what I wrote. I called thee back, Brother, that thou shouldst not thyself seek Africa, but rather appoint someone else: I feared to commit thee to the road, to trust thee to the waves, and a greater fear than usual had come upon my mind. But thou didst both accomplish the journey, and settle the business, and, in an old and leaky ship (as I hear), didst again trust thyself to the waves. For while thou wert hunting after speed, thou didst neglect caution, greedy of our love, dissembling thy own peril. O deceitful gladness! O uncertain courses of human affairs! Restored from Africa, given back from the sea, saved from shipwreck, we thought that he could now not be snatched from us, but, set upon land, we endure graver shipwrecks. For the death of him whom the shipwrecks ^k of the sea could not lead to death, being escaped by strenuous swimming, has begun to be a shipwreck to us. For what sweetness remains to those for whom so exceedingly sweet a glory, so dear a light in these darknesses of the world, has been extinguished, in whom has set the glory not of our family alone, but of the whole country.

ANNOTATIONS.

a. Baronius

at the year 383, num. 14, believed from this passage that the common danger was redeemed by the private grief of St. Ambrose, and he judges that the matter happened in the year 383, when, the emperor Gratian having been slain, it was feared that the tyrant Maximus would bring destruction on Italy. But I have shown in the Commentary, §2, that all these things are to be fixed in the year 392 or 393, when, Valentinian II having been slain, the tyrant Eugenius was feared. But as regards the common danger, this had not yet been taken away while Ambrose was speaking these words. For Eugenius did in fact come into Italy with his column; but he inflicted less damage than could have been feared, and was quickly conquered by the emperor Theodosius.

perhaps perfruitus* (having fully enjoyed)

al. amorem* (love)

al. in utroque* (in both)

CHAPTER II.

The grief of all at the death of St. Satyrus, whom Ambrose teaches to have been withdrawn from dangers by his death: the Saint, delivered from shipwreck, is unwilling to receive baptism from a schismatic, but afterwards receives it in the Catholic Church.

[ ] Ambrose, praising the grief of all, yet calls Satyrus happy, I have indeed the greatest thanks for you, most beloved brethren, holy people, that you count my grief no other than your own, that you believe this bereavement of ours has befallen you, that with a certain new piety you offer the weeping of the whole city, the prayers of all ages, of all orders. For this is not the grief of a private compassion, but a certain office and gift of public thankfulness. Or if any compassion for me touches you, that I have lost such a Brother, I have an abundant fruit, I have a pledge of your affection. I would rather my Brother lived: but yet a public office is more pleasant in prosperity, more welcome in adversity. Nor indeed does the merit of so great an office seem to me small. Nor is it idly that either in the Acts of the Apostles the widows are described weeping for Tabitha ^a dead, or in the Gospel a crowd, moved by the tears of a widow, is brought in following the funeral of the young man to whom resurrection was owed: yet the widows wept for that Tabitha, the whole city for him. There is therefore no doubt that by your tears the patronage of the Apostles is obtained; there is no doubt (I say) that Christ was moved with compassion. When he saw you weeping, although he did not now touch the bier, yet he received the spirit commended to him: although he did not call the dead man with the voice of the body, yet by the authority of divine power he freed his soul from the torments of death and from the assaults of spiritual wickedness. Although he who was dead did not sit up on the bier, yet he has rested in Christ. Although he has not spoken to us, yet he beholds the things that are above us, and rejoices that he now sees what is better than we. For through the things which we read in the Gospel we understand the things that are to come: and the appearance of present things is an indication of things to come. He had no need of a temporal resurrection, to whom an eternal is owed. For why should he fall back into this wretched and toilsome corruption, and return into this lamentable life, whom we rather ought to rejoice to have been snatched from such imminent evils and pressing perils? For if, when the world was at peace and wars ceasing, no one wept for Enoch snatched away, but rather the Prophet praised him, as Scripture said of him: He was snatched away, lest malice should change his heart: how much more rightly must it now be said, when to the slipperiness of the world is added the uncertainty of life: He was snatched away, lest he should fall into the hands of the barbarians? He was snatched away, lest he should see the destructions of the whole world, the end of the earth, the funerals of his kin, the deaths of citizens, and finally — what is bitterer than any death — the defilement of holy virgins and widows?

[10] But I, Brother, judge thee blessed both in the flower of thy life and in the timeliness of thy death. because by his death he was delivered from impending dangers, For thou wert not snatched from us, but from dangers: thou didst not lose life, but wert spared the dread of oncoming bitternesses. For with what mercy of a holy mind wert thou toward thine own, that, if thou now knewest Italy pressed by so near an enemy, how greatly wouldst thou groan, how wouldst thou grieve that the sum of our safety stands in the rampart of the Alps, and that a wall of modesty is built of felled timbers? With what affliction wouldst thou mourn that by so slender a division thine own are kept from an enemy impure and cruel, who would spare neither chastity nor life? In what manner, I say, wouldst thou bear these things which we shall be compelled to suffer, and perhaps — what is graver — to look upon: virgins seized, and little children torn from their parents' embrace tossed upon the spears, bodies consecrated to God violated, and the aged womb of an older widow put back to uses long unaccustomed, of burdens, not of children? In what manner, I say, wouldst thou endure these things — thou who even with thy last breath, forgetful perhaps of thyself, and still not unmindful of us, didst often admonish us about guarding against an incursion of the barbarians, recalling that thou hadst not said in vain that we must flee: perhaps for this reason, that thou didst see us left destitute by thy death: which thou didst not from weakness of soul, but from piety; though weak for us, yet firm for thyself. Thou who, when thou wert called back by that noble man Symmachus, thy kinsman ^b, because Italy was said to be ablaze with war, because thou wert making toward danger, because thou wert running upon the enemy, didst answer that this very thing was thy cause for coming, that thou mightest not be wanting to our danger, that thou mightest show thyself a sharer in thy brother's peril. Happy therefore in so timely a death, because thou hast not been kept for this grief. Certainly happier than our holy sister, who, bereft of thy solace, anxious for her own modesty, lately blessed in two brothers, now made wretched out of two brothers, can neither follow the one nor forsake the other: to whom thy tomb is her lodging, and the sepulcher of thy body is her home. And would that even this were a safe inn! Her food is in weepings, her drink in tears. For thou hast given us for food the bread of tears, and hast given us drink in tears in measure — or perhaps beyond measure. For what shall I say of myself, to whom it is not permitted even to die, lest I leave my sister; nor is it pleasing to live, lest I be torn from thee? For what can be pleasant to me without thee, in whom all our pleasantness always was? Or what pleasure is it to linger longer in this life and to tarry on earth, where we lived pleasantly just so long as we lived together? Even if there were something here which could delight us, without thee it could not delight. Even if at any time we had wished earnestly to prolong life, yet now we should not wish to be without thee. These things are intolerable. For what is tolerable without thee, so great a companion of my life, so great a partner of my labors and offices? Whose fall I could not even premeditate, so as to make it more tolerable: so did my mind dread to think any such thing about him, not that I was ignorant of the condition: but a certain habit of prayers had overlaid the sense of our common frailty, so that I could not think anything about him but prosperity.

[11] and he declares that he had preferred to die before a brother so like himself, In short, lately, when I was pressed by a grave and — would that it had been — a final falling away, this only did I grieve, that thou thyself didst not sit by my little bed, and, sharing with our holy sister ^c the office I desired, close the eyes of the dying with thy fingers. What had I desired? What do I repay? What prayers fail? What ministrations come in their place? I was preparing one thing: I am compelled to render another, being now not myself the service of a funeral, but its servant. O hard lights of my eyes, that could see a brother dying! O rough and harsh hands, that closed the eyes in which I saw more! O harder neck, that couldst carry so mournful a burden, though with consoling compliance! These offices thou, Brother, wouldst more justly have rendered me. These I looked for from thee. These offices I longed for. But now, myself surviving my own life, what solace shall I take without thee, who alone wert wont to console me when mourning, to rouse gladness, to drive away sadness? In what state, Brother, do I now behold thee, bringing me back no words now, offering now no kisses? Although a mutual love always so dwelt in each of us that it was cherished rather by inward affection than divulged by outward blandishment. For we sought not the testimony of others, who held so great a favor of one another. So had the sap of a manly brotherhood poured itself into each of us that we seemed not to prove our love by blandishments, but, content with an inward love in a mind conscious of piety, not to require the paint of blandishments — we whom our very likeness formed to mutual love. For by I know not what expression of mind, what likeness of body, each of us was seen in the other. Who ever beheld thee, who did not think that he had seen me? How often did I salute some who, because they had first saluted thee, would say that they had already been saluted by me? How many said something to thee, who would recall that they had said it to me? What joys came to me from this, how great a gladness often arose, that I saw them err about us? How welcome the error, how pleasant the slip, how devout the deception, how

sweet the false charge? For there was nothing of thy deeds or thy words which I should fear, who rejoiced that thy things were ascribed to me. Yet if they contended more vehemently, recalling that they had imparted something to me, I would answer laughing and rejoicing: See that you have not said it to my Brother. For although all things were common to us, an undivided spirit, an undivided affection, yet the one thing not common was the secret of friends: not that we feared the danger of sharing, but that we kept faith in holding. Indeed, if a matter were to be weighed by counsel, the counsel was always common, the secret not always common. For even if friends so spoke to one of us that their words came to either, yet I know that for the most part the fidelity of a secret was so kept that it was not even entrusted to a brother. For it was a faithful proof that a thing had not been betrayed to a stranger, if it had not been shared with a brother. Uplifted, therefore, by these so many and so great goods to a certain excess, I confess, of mind, I had ceased to fear that I should survive, because I believed him more worthy of life. And therefore I received a blow which I cannot bear. For the wounds of so great a grief are more tolerable when premeditated than when unexplored.

[12] Who now shall console me in my sorrow? Who shall lift me up in affliction? praising his charity and prudence. With whom shall I share my cares? Who shall claim me back from the usury of this world? For thou wert the manager [] of business, the censor of the servants, the arbiter of the brothers; not the arbiter of a lawsuit, but of affection. For if at any time I had to confer with our holy sister which opinion seemed the better, we took thee as judge: who wouldst hurt no one's face, and, eager to satisfy both, didst keep both the affection of loving and the measure of judging: so that thou wouldst both send each away pleased, and claim for thyself the favor of each. Or if thou thyself didst bring forward something to be debated, how welcome was thy contention! How free from gall thy very indignation! How unbitter thy restraint of the very servants! Since thou wouldst say that thou didst rather yield to them as brethren than avenge [] from affection. For our profession restrained our zeal for restraining. Nay, thou, Brother, didst draw us away from every inclination to restraint, promising to avenge and desiring to soothe. No slight testimony, therefore, of prudence, which is thus defined by the wise: that the first of goods is to know God, and to venerate with a pious mind that true and divine Being: to love with the whole charity of the mind that lovable and desirable beauty of eternal truth. And the second, to derive piety toward our neighbors from that divine and heavenly fount of nature. Which even the wise men of the world drew from our laws. For they could not have derived these things into the disciplines of men, save from that heavenly fount of the divine law.

[13] Why then should I proclaim his observance toward the worship of God? Satyrus, having suffered shipwreck and been saved by divine protection, Who, before he had been initiated into the more perfect mysteries, being set in a shipwreck, when the ship in which he was borne, dashed upon a rocky shoal and pressed by the waves on this side and that, was breaking up, fearing not death, but lest he should go out of life void of the mystery, asked from those whom he knew to be initiated that divine Sacrament of the faithful ^d: not that he might bring curious eyes upon secret things, but that he might obtain the help of his faith. For he had it bound in a napkin, and wrapped the napkin ^e about his neck, and so cast himself into the sea, not seeking a plank loosened from the ship's frame by which, floating upon it, he might be helped, since he had sought the arms of faith alone. And so, believing himself sufficiently covered and fortified by these, he desired no other aids. At the same time one may behold his fortitude, who, when the oarage was giving way, did not take a plank as a shipwrecked man, but as a brave man took from himself the support of his own virtue. Nor did hope desert him, nor his judgment deceive him. In short, first saved from the waves, and carried to the harbor of an earthly station, he recognized his protector, in whom he had trusted: and straightway, when he had either himself freed his other servants, or learned that they were freed, heedless of his goods, and not longing for what was lost, he sought out the church of God, that being freed he might give thanks, and might know the eternal mysteries, declaring that there is no greater office than that of rendering thanks. For if not to render thanks to a man has been judged like homicide, how great a crime is it not to render thanks to God? It belongs therefore to a prudent man to know himself, and, as it has been defined by the wise, to live according to nature. For what is so according to nature as to render thanks to the Author? Behold this heaven — does it not render thanks to its Author when it is beheld? For the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament announces the works of his hands. The sea itself, when it is calm and tranquil, testifies a sign of divine serenity; when it is stirred, the wrath from above is a terror. Do we not all rightly marvel at the grace of God, when we notice that an insensible nature by a certain sensible reason restrains its own waves, and that the wave knows its own bounds? For what shall I say of the lands, which, obedient to the divine precept, of their own accord supply food to all living things: and give back what the fields have received multiplied and heaped up, as by growing interest? Therefore he who, with nature as his guide, had perceived the reason of the divine work with the fiery vigor of his mind, knew that first of all thanks were to be rendered to his Savior. But because he could not render it, he could hold it. For such is the force of thanks of this kind, that it is both held when it is rendered, and rendered by being held.

[14] receives baptism in the Catholic Church. He rendered thanks, therefore, and offered faith. For he who had experienced so great a protection from the heavenly Mystery wrapped in a napkin, how great did he judge it, if he should take it with his mouth, and drink it into the whole secret of his breast? How much greater did he think it, poured into his inward parts, which had so profited him when only covered by a napkin? But he was not so eager as to be incautious. For we know that very many, through eagerness of zeal, neglect caution. He called the bishop to him, and thought no grace true but the grace of the true faith: and inquired of him whether he agreed with the Catholic bishops, that is, with the Roman Church ^f. And by chance up to that place the church of that region was in schism. For Lucifer ^g had at that time divided himself from our communion: and although he had gone into exile for the faith, and had left heirs of his own faith, yet he did not think [*] that faith exists in schism. For even if they held faith toward God, yet they did not hold it toward the Church of God: whose limbs, as it were, they suffered to be divided, and her members to be torn. For since Christ suffered for the Church, and the Church is the body of Christ, faith does not seem to be shown to Christ by those by whom his passion is made void and his body is torn apart. And so, although he held the loan of grace, and feared, as the debtor of so great a name, to sail: yet he preferred to cross over thither where he could safely pay it. For he judged that the payment of divine grace consists in affection and faith: which indeed, as soon as freer opportunity of the Church ^h was had, he did not delay to fulfil, and he both received the desired grace of God, and preserved it when received. Nothing therefore is wiser than that prudence which distinguishes divine things from human. For why should I speak of his eloquence, proved in the stipends of the forum? With what incredible admiration did it shine forth in the lofty auditorium of the prefecture? But I prefer to praise those things which, the Mysteries of God being received, he reckoned to be better than human things. His fortitude too, if anyone wishes to behold it more fully, let him consider how often after the shipwreck, with a certain unconquered contempt of this life, he crossed the seas, and traversed far-spread regions in visiting them. Finally, that at this very time he did not flee from danger, but came to danger, enduring injury, heedless of cold, and — would that he had been — careful of caution: but blessed in this very thing, that while it was permitted him to use the vigor of his body, discharging without hindrance the office of youth for carrying out what he wished, he lived his life and knew not debility.

ANNOTATIONS.

the Canonization of the Servants of God, book 1, chapter 40, heaps up many things for both opinions, and leaves the matter undecided.

in the last edition, auctor* (author)

ibid. disceres*, faultily

* Satyrus

CHAPTER III.

The Saint's modesty, chastity, temperance, justice, and other virtues: Ambrose tries in various ways to soothe his own grief and that of his sister Marcellina.

[ ] The Saint's modesty, chastity, But with what pursuit shall I set forth his simplicity? For it is a certain temperance of manners and sobriety of mind. Give pardon, I pray, and permit my grief that I may be allowed to speak a little more abundantly about him with whom it is no longer granted me to speak. Certainly it profits you too, that you may notice that you paid this office not from some frailty, but from judgment: nor were you driven by pity for his death, but summoned by the honor of his virtues. For every blessed soul is simple. And he was of so great simplicity that, turned into a boy, he shone again with the simplicity of that harmless age, with the image of perfect virtue and as it were a mirror of innocent manners. He entered therefore into the kingdom of heaven, since he believed the word of God: since like a boy he repelled the art of flattery, mildly swallowed the pain of injury, and still more mildly avenged it, readier to complain than to deceive: easy for satisfaction, hard for ambition, holy in modesty: so that frequently you would proclaim in him a modesty more than necessary, rather than seek what was needed. But the foundations of virtue are never superfluous. For modesty does not call back an office, but commends it. And so, his face suffused with a kind of virginal modesty, when his countenance betrayed his feeling, if by chance coming suddenly he met some kinsman, as though cast down and as it were sunk into the earth, though by no means unlike himself in the very assembly of men, he was slow to lift his face, to raise his eyes, to return a word: which he did from a certain chaste modesty of mind, with which the chastity of his body also agreed. For he preserved undefiled the gifts of sacred baptism, clean in body, purer in heart, shrinking no less from the reproach of adulterous speech than of body: reckoning that no less reverence was to be paid to purity by integrity of words than by chastity of body. In short, he so loved chastity that he did not even seek a wife: although in him there was not only a desire of chastity, but also the grace of affection. But in a marvelous manner he both dissembled about marriage and avoided boasting: and so great was his dissembling that even when we pressed him he seemed rather to be deferring a partnership than shunning it. This therefore was the one thing which he would not entrust even to his brothers, not from any hesitation of delay, but from the modesty of his virtue.

[16] Who then would not marvel at a Man, middle in age between two of his kin, the one a virgin, the other a priest, his temperance in various things, not unequal in greatness of soul, so excelling between two of the greatest offices that he reproduced the chastity of the one, though less, and the holiness of the other, not by the bond of a profession, but by the office of virtue? Therefore, if lust and wrathfulness are the nurses of the remaining vices, I should rightly call chastity and clemency a kind of parents of the virtues: although piety too, as it is the chief of all goods, so is also the seed-bed of the other virtues. For what shall I say of his frugality, and a certain chastity in possessing? For he does not seek what belongs to another who keeps his own: nor is he puffed up by excess who is content with his own. He wished therefore nothing else than to recover his own, rather that he might not be defrauded than that he might be enriched. For those who seek what belongs to others he rightly called hawks of money. And if avarice is the root of all evils, surely he puts off vices who does not seek money. He was never delighted by more elaborate banquets or heaped-up dishes, except when he invited friends to a feast: seeking as much as would be enough for nature, not as much as would be over for pleasure. And certainly he was not poor in wealth, but nevertheless poor in spirit ^a. Of his blessedness we ought by no means to doubt: who neither, as a rich man, exulted in riches, nor, as a poor man, judged small what he had.

[17] It remains that, for the conclusion of the cardinal virtues, his justice, or rather charity toward every kind of men. we ought to notice also the parts of justice in him. For although the virtues are akin to one another and grown together, yet a certain form and expression of each is looked for, and most of all of justice. For it, sparing toward itself, is wholly outward: and whatever it has, with a certain harshness toward itself, while it is carried away by a common love, it pours over upon its neighbors. But of this there are manifold kinds. One toward kinsfolk, another toward all, another toward the worship of God, or the help of the needy. And so, what he was toward all, the zeal of the provincials over whom he presided shows: who used to say that he had been rather their own parent than their judge, a welcome arbiter of pious obligation, a steadfast decider of equal right. But what he was among his brothers, although he embraced every kind of men with benevolence, the undivided patrimony shows, and the inheritance neither distributed nor tasted, but reserved. For he denied that piety was for him a cause of making a will. For this too he marked in his last discourse, when he commended those whom he had loved: that he had had neither the resolve of taking a wife, lest he should be torn from his brethren, nor the will of making a testament, lest our own judgment should be injured in anything. In short, though begged and besought by us, he thought nevertheless that nothing was to be laid down, not forgetful of the poor, but only beseeching that as much should be bestowed as should seem just to us. By this one thing he both sufficiently expressed the sign of divine fear, and gave an example of human devotion. For what he bestowed on the poor, he offered to God. Since he who gives bountifully to the poor lends to God: and by asking what is just, he left not a little, but the whole. For this is the sum of justice: to sell what you have and to bestow it on the poor. For he who has dispersed and given to the poor, his justice remains forever. Therefore he left us dispensers, not heirs: for an inheritance is sought for a successor, a dispensation is bound to the poor. Whence not undeservedly has the Holy Spirit today also expressed, through the voice of the little reader, how great he was: Innocent in hands and clean of heart, who has not received his soul in vain, nor done guile to his neighbor. This is the generation of them that seek God. He therefore shall both ascend into the mountain of the Lord and dwell in the tabernacle of God: and having entered without stain, he has wrought justice, has spoken truth, has not deceived his neighbor: nor has he lent his money at interest, who always wished to recover his inheritance. I recognize the oracle: for what no disposition ordained, the Spirit revealed.

[18] that the death of one adorned with such virtues is not to be mourned, But why should I review this, that, going beyond justice itself in piety, when he thought that certain things should be granted to one who was keeping back the common produce, out of regard for my office, they proclaimed me the author of the bounty, while he conferred the gain of his own portion upon our common partnership? These things and others, which were then my greatest pleasure, now in recollection aggravate my grief. Yet they remain, and will always be, nor do they pass away like a shadow, nor does the grace of virtue set with the body, nor is the end of nature and of merits the same; although the use of nature itself does not set forever, but rests in a certain temporal calling. Him, therefore, who has discharged such virtues and has been snatched from dangers, I shall weep with longing rather than with loss. For the very timeliness of his death persuades that we should think him rather to be attended with thanksgiving than mourned. For it is written that in a common grief a private one ought to be idle. For it is not in prophetic speech to that one woman alone who is figured, but to individuals, that it is said, when it seems said to the Church. It says therefore also to me, and the heavenly Scripture says: Is this what you teach, is this how you instruct the people of God? Or do you not know that your example is the peril of the rest? Unless perhaps you complain that you have not been heard? First, this belongs to arrogant shamelessness, to wish alone to deserve what you know to have been denied even to many Saints, since you know that God is not a respecter of persons. For although God is merciful, yet, if he always heard all, he would seem now to act not from free will, but as if from a certain necessity. Then, since all ask, if he heard all, no one would die. For how many do you ask each day? Is the ordinance of God to be dissolved out of regard for you? Why then do you grieve that something has sometimes not been obtained, which you know is not always obtainable? Foolish [], it says, above all women, do you not see our mourning, and what has befallen us? Since Sion, the mother of us all, is saddened in sadness, and is humbled in humiliation. Mourn most strongly even now, since we all mourn: and be sad [], since we are all saddened. For you are saddened over a Brother. Ask the earth, and it will tell you, since this is she who ought to mourn, surviving so many offspring: And from her, it says, all were born in the beginning: and others shall come, and behold, almost all walk into perdition: and their multitude comes to destruction. And who then ought to mourn more, than she who has lost so great a multitude, than you who grieve for one? Let the common grief, therefore, swallow up our grief, and shut out the bitterness of our own mourning. For we ought not to grieve for those whom we see set free. Nor indeed is it idly that at this time we recall souls so holy loosed from bodily bonds. For as by a divine judgment we see widows so weighty die at one and the same time, so that it seems a departure by way of setting out, not the setting of death: lest a veteran chastity, its service accomplished, should fall into doubt about a modesty long preserved. What groans, what griefs does so bitter a recollection stir in me? Even if they were not free from sorrows, yet in that private grief itself, in the very loss of so great a flower of merits, a certain common condition of nature consoled me: and grief fixed upon one thing overlaid the bitterness of a public funeral with the appearance of domestic piety.

[19] I go back therefore, sacred Scripture, to thy consolations. For it is a joy to linger over thy precepts, he proves by reasons and by passages of Scripture over thy sentences. Because it is easier for heaven and earth to pass away than for one tittle to fall from the Law. But now let us hear what is written: Now, it says, keep your grief with yourself, and bear bravely the misfortunes which have befallen you. For if you justify the limit set by God, you shall both receive your son in due time, and shall be praised among women. If this to a woman, how much more to a priest? If about a son, surely it is not absurd that such things can be recalled also about the loss of brothers: although if I had had a son, I should never have loved him more. For as at the death of children the labors poured out and the pains undertaken in vain seem to increase mourning: so also in the case of brothers the practice of intimacy and of companionship kindles the bitterness of grief. But behold I hear the Scripture saying: Do not make this discourse, but consent to be persuaded. For you who weep at the misfortunes of Sion, be consoled also for the grief of Jerusalem. For you see that our deeds are defiled, and the name which was named over us has been almost profaned: and our young men

have suffered outrage, and our priests have been burned, and our levites have been in captivity, and our women have been defiled, and our virgins have suffered violence, and our just men have been carried off, and our little ones betrayed, and our young men have served, and our strong men have been made weak. And what is greater than all, the seal of Sion, since it has been unsealed from its glory, has now also been delivered into the hands of those who hate us. Do you therefore shake off your great sadness, and lay from you the multitude of griefs, that the Most High may be propitious to you from without, and may make you rest with a rest from griefs.

[20] Tears therefore shall cease. For we must obey wholesome remedies, Ambrose, who nevertheless frequently remembered his Brother, because there ought to be some difference between the faithful and the faithless. Let those weep, then, who cannot have hope of the resurrection: which not God's sentence takes away, but the harshness of unbelief. Let there be a difference between the servants of Christ and the worshippers of idols: that those may weep for their own, whom they judge to have perished forever. Let them have no holidays from tears, let them attain no rest from sadness, who think there is no rest for the dead. But for us, to whom death is the end not of nature but of this life, since nature itself is repaired for the better, let every case of death wipe away weeping. Certainly if those found some consolations for themselves who judged death to be the end of sense and the failing of nature, how much more we, to whom the consciousness of good deeds promises better rewards after death? The gentiles have their consolations, because they judge death to be the rest from all evils. And as they lack the fruit of life, so they think that they have also lacked all sense and pain of the punishments which in this life we bear, grievous and unceasing. But we, as we ought to be more upright in reward, so also more patient in consolation. For those are seen not to be lost, but to be sent before, whom not consuming death, but eternity, is to receive. Tears therefore shall cease; or, if they cannot cease, in common lamentations I shall weep for thee, Brother: and beneath a public grief I shall cover domestic groans. For how shall they be able to cease, when at every sound of thy name tears steal in — whether custom itself stirs recollection, or affection presents thy image, or recollection renews grief? For when art thou absent, who art represented by so many offices? Thou art present, I say, and art always poured about me: and with my whole soul and mind I embrace thee, behold thee, address thee, kiss thee, take hold of thee, whether in the very quiet of night, or in clear daylight ^b, when thou deignest to revisit and console me in my mourning. In short, the very nights, which seemed as it were more troublesome while thou wert alive, because they denied the opportunity of beholding each other; and sleep itself, once the unlovely interrupter of our conversations, has now begun to be sweet, because it has given thee back to me.

[21] nor could he remember him without tears: Not wretched, therefore, but blessed are they whose presence does not fail, and whose care is not lessened, and whose grace is increased. For the image of death is like sleep. And if in the quiet of night souls, still clinging to bodily bonds and as it were bound within the prison-bars of their limbs, can nevertheless perceive higher and distinct things: how much more do they behold these things, when now with a pure and ethereal sense they suffer no hindrances of bodily corruption? And deservedly, when I complained, as a certain day was already declining to its setting, that thou didst not revisit me as I rested, thou wert present, wholly undivided at all times, so that, steeped in that slumber of the limbs, while I was awake for thee and thou wast alive for me, I said: What is death, Brother? For certainly thou wert separated from me at no moment. For so present wert thou everywhere, that the abundance which we could not have in the use of this life is now always and everywhere present to us. For then indeed all things could not be present: for our embraces, and the sights and sweetnesses of bodily kisses, were not at hand in all places and at all times. The images of our souls were always with us, even when we were not together: which not even now have set, and they fly to me unceasingly, the more abundantly the greater my longing. I hold thee therefore, Brother, and neither death nor time shall tear thee from me. Sweet are these very tears: pleasant these very weepings, by which the burning of the soul is quenched, and affection, as it were relaxed, evaporates. For I cannot be without thee, or ever not remember thee, or remember thee without tears. O bitter days, which betray a bond broken off! O tearful nights, which have lost so good a partner of rest, and an undivided companion to me! What crosses would you bring forth, if the image of his presence did not pour itself about me, if the visions of the mind did not present him whom the appearance of the body denied? Now, now, Brother most dear to my soul, although thou hast departed by an untimely death, yet blessed art thou, who dost not endure these things, nor art compelled to mourn a lost brother — thou who couldst not long bear him absent, but wouldst revisit him with swift return! And if then thou didst hasten to drive away the weariness of my solitude, and to lighten the sadness of a brother's mind: how much more often now oughtest thou to revisit an afflicted soul, and to soothe by thyself the mourning conceived from thee? But yet the practice of my office grants me some truces, and the intentness of priestly duty draws my mind away.

[22] the grief of his holy sister Marcellina at the death of Satyrus: But what shall become of our holy sister? Who, although she tempers her affection with divine fear, yet again kindles the very grief of affection by her zeal of religion — laid upon the ground, and embracing the whole tomb in her bosom, wearied with toilsome going, sad in feeling, renews her mourning by days and nights. For although she generally suspends her weeping in speech, she renews it in prayer. And although the memory of the Scriptures runs ahead of those who sow consolations, yet she compensates her desire of weeping by assiduity of praying, restoring the abundance of her tears especially then, when no one can interrupt. Thus you have what you may pity: what you may reprehend, you have not. For to weep in prayer is of virtue. And although this is familiar to virgins, whose sex is softer, whose affection more tender, and who at the sight of our common frailty overflow into tears even without a sense of domestic grief; yet when the cause of mourning is greater, an end to mournings is shut out. There is lacking, therefore, a way of consoling, because the grace of excusing is at hand. Nor could you forbid what you teach, especially since she builds up tears of religion, not of grief; and covers the course of a common lamentation with the fear of modesty ^c. Console her, therefore, thou who canst approach her soul and penetrate her mind. Let her discern that thou art present, let her feel that thou art not dead, so that she who is secure of thy merit, having enjoyed thy consolation, may learn not to grieve heavily for him who has admonished her that he is not to be grieved for.

[23] But why do I delay thee, Brother? Why should I wait, that our discourse should die with thee and be as it were buried with thee? Ambrose's peroration to his Brother now to be buried. Although the very appearance and form of the lifeless body consoles, and the abiding grace and enduring figure ^d soothes my eyes: I delay, I say, no longer. Let us go forward to the tomb. But first before the people I say the last farewell, I proclaim peace, I loose the kiss. Go before to that home common to all and owed to all, but now to be longed for by me above the rest. Prepare a fellowship for thy guest: and as here all things were common to us, so there too let us know no divided right. Do not, I pray, long defer one who desires thee: await one who hastens, help one who makes speed: and if I shall seem to thee to tarry too long, summon me. For never were we absent from each other for very long, yet thou wert wont to revisit me. Now, since thou canst no longer return, we shall go to thee. It is fair that we repay the office, that we take our turn. Never was the condition of our life more distinct: always either health or sickness was common, so that when one grew ill, the other fell into disease; when one recovered, both rose up together. How have we lost our right? And now there was a partnership in sickness — how was there not a partnership in death? To thee now, almighty God, I commend an innocent soul: to thee I offer my victim. Receive, propitious and serene, a brother's gift, the sacrifice of a priest. These offerings of mine I now send before. In this pledge I come to thee: not a pledge of money, but of life: do not make me sit longer as the debtor of so great a loan. No slight is the interest of a brother's love, nor cheap the principal of nature, which the increase of virtue has heaped up. I can bear it, if I am compelled quickly to pay it out.

ANNOTATIONS.

al. Stulta* (foolish, fem.)

al. estote* (be ye)

LIFE

By an anonymous author

From the edition of Mombritius, frequently corrected.

Satyrus, confessor, at Milan. (S.)

BHL Number: 7510

BY AN ANONYMOUS AUTHOR.

Satyrus, brother of St. Ambrose, born of a noble stock, It seems probable enough and worthy of praise if we do not cover the deeds of famous men with silence, but by whatever means lay them open for the incitement of many. For it is no small praise of God when these things are reported; a plain example is left to posterity; the advance of the Christian faith is gained; no small gladness is given to the holy angels: to the demonic spirits an immense confusion and mourning is daily generated: finally, when the title of highest sanctity is written down, they deservedly envy who see themselves despised and destroyed through the grace of Christ. That the most blessed Satyrus, therefore, was the brother of that eminent bishop and chief doctor, our teacher and nurse, the most holy Ambrose of reverend memory, is established as most well known by the knowledge of very many: whose lineage, worthy of God, how lofty and famous it stood among the highest of the Roman princes, is so far known to almost the whole West that it is thought superfluous [*] in the present narrative. Ambrose [a], finally, their illustrious father, having obtained lofty honor in the Roman senate, being made the defender and fit champion of the commonwealth, and found worthy of the administration of a prefecture, was set by decree of the senate over the province of the Gauls for his industry: from whose uprightness of manners and keenness of studies what the offspring begotten from him would be can easily be conjectured. For both shone forth on high with incredible admiration in the assistance of the prefecture. But what the life of the most holy pontiff Ambrose was from the cradle, how at first, when he had grown up, he was chosen beforehand for giving counsel; and how soon after he received the provinces of Liguria and Æmilia to govern: how also from the consulship ^b he was called by the divine will to the height of the episcopate, in the book of his Life, which

he who desires to know can sufficiently find.

[2] he lives with St. Ambrose the bishop, Now, concerning his most blessed brother Satyrus, of whom we have begun to speak, we shall try briefly, with Christ's help, to cull as much as we have learned in his brother's writings. The man of the Lord Satyrus, therefore, seeing his own brother suddenly raised by a heavenly oracle from the governorship to the pontifical office, so clung to his side that, leaving his own house and native country and the manifold abundance of all things, he counted the love of his only brother dearer than life itself: and he was to him, as the Saint himself reports, arbiter in counsels, sharer of his care, averter of anxiety, driver-away of sorrow, champion of good acts, and defender of thoughts. Finally he was the one man in whom domestic solicitude found rest, and public care reposed. And so without any offense he governed the priest's household. So, finally, had the sap of a manly brotherhood poured itself into each of them, that they did not prove their love by blandishments, but, content with the consciousness of mind and with an inward love of piety, did not require the paint of blandishments, since one likeness formed the two to mutual love.

[3] Which likeness was so great that the one was seen in the other; most like him in countenance and most closely joined to him, so much so that when you looked upon one, you would think you had seen the other: whence it very often happened that those saluted by the one would say that they had been saluted back by the other. So welcome was the error in the sight of both, pleasant the slip, devout the deception, sweet the false charge. And how great were the joys of the holy pontiff from this, how great the gladness that often arose, that he saw others erring about himself and his Brother. For when they insisted more vehemently upon it, and recalled that they had imparted to him something which they had told only to his Brother, he would answer laughing and rejoicing: See [*] that you have not said it to my brother. For although all things were common, an undivided spirit, an undivided affection, yet the one thing not common was the secret of friends: not that they feared the danger of sharing, but that they might keep faith in holding. The reverend prelate indeed excelled in the divine offices: but that most strenuous confessor of Christ ^c, Satyrus, was the helper and manager of business, the censor of the servants, and the arbiter of the brothers.

[4] In the middle ^d between them their religious sister Marcellina, cleaving unshaken to her most beloved brothers, he excels in gentle manners: saved from shipwreck stood venerable in her integrity, equal in character, not unequal in offices. So that, whenever anything had to be conferred about, as to whose opinion should seem the better, they took blessed Satyrus as judge; who would hurt no one, would satisfy both, so that from each side he claimed favor for himself. But if he himself brought forward something to be debated, how welcome was his contention too, how free from gall his very indignation, how unbitter his reproof even toward the servants themselves; since he was proved rather to be paying honor to them as to brothers than avenging from feeling against them. Why then should I proclaim that same Man's observance toward the worship of God? Who, before he had been initiated into the more perfect mysteries, being set in a shipwreck, when the ship in which he was borne, dashed upon a rocky shoal and breaking up amid the swelling waves on this side and that; fearing not death, but lest he should go out of life void of the mysteries, asked from those very men whom he knew to be initiated that divine Sacrament of the faithful; not that he might insert curious eyes upon secret things, but that he might obtain the help of his faith. For he had it bound in a napkin: and wrapped the napkin about his neck: and so cast himself into the sea, not seeking a plank loosened from the ship's frame by which, floating upon it, he might be helped; since he had sought the arms of faith alone. And so, believing himself sufficiently covered and fortified by these, he desired no other aids.

[5] At the same time also one may behold his fortitude: he desires baptism: who, when the oarage was giving way, did not take a plank as a shipwrecked man; but as a brave man took from himself the support of his own virtue. Nor did hope desert him, nor his judgment deceive him. In short, first saved from the waves, and carried to the harbor of an earthly station, he recognized his protector, in whom he had trusted: and straightway, when he had either himself freed his other servants, or learned that they were freed, heedless of his goods, and not longing for what was lost, he sought out the church of God, that being freed he might render thanks: and might know the eternal mysteries, declaring that there is no greater office than that of rendering thanks. For if not to render thanks to a man has been judged like homicide, how great a crime is it not to render thanks to God? He rendered thanks, therefore, and offered faith. For he who had experienced so great a protection from the heavenly Mystery wrapped in a napkin, how great did he judge it, if he should take it with his mouth and drink it into the whole secret of his breast; how much greater did he think it, poured into his inward parts, which had so profited him when only covered by a napkin? But he was not so eager as to be incautious. For we know that very many, through eagerness of zeal, neglect caution. He called the bishop to him, and thought no grace true but the grace of the true faith: and inquired of him whether he agreed with the Catholic bishops, that is, with the Church.

[6] but he refuses to receive it from a schismatic, and receives it from a Catholic. And by chance up to that place the church of that region was in schism. For Lucifer had at that time divided himself from the Catholic communion. And although he had gone into exile for the faith, and had left heirs of his own faith: yet he did not think that faith exists in schism: for even if they held faith toward God, yet they did not hold it toward the Church of God, whose limbs, as it were, they suffered to be divided, and her members to be torn. For since Christ suffered for the Church, and the Church is the body of Christ, faith does not seem to be shown to Christ by those by whom his passion is made void and his body is torn apart. And so, although he held the loan of grace, and feared, as the debtor of so great a name, to sail; yet he preferred to cross over thither where he could safely pay it. For he judged that the payment of divine grace consists in affection and faith. Which indeed, as soon as freer opportunity of a church was had, he did not delay to fulfil; and he both received the desired grace of God, and preserved it when received.

[7] The Saint's marvelous modesty, remarkable chastity, But with what pursuit shall I set forth his simplicity? Which was so great that, turned into a boy, he shone again with the simplicity of that harmless age, with the image of perfect virtue and as it were a mirror of innocent manners. And so, his face suffused as with a kind of virginal modesty, when his countenance betrayed his feeling; if by chance coming suddenly he met some kinsman, as though caught out, he looked as it were turned aside toward the ground. Though by no means unlike himself in the very assembly of men, he was slow to lift his face, to raise his eyes, to return a word: which came from a certain chaste modesty of mind. With which the chastity of his body also agreed. For he preserved undefiled the gifts of sacred baptism, with a clean body, purer in heart, shuddering no less at the reproach of adulterous speech than of body; reckoning that no less reverence was to be paid to purity by integrity of words than by chastity of body. In short, he so loved chastity that he did not even seek a wife, although in him there was not only a desire of chastity, but also the grace of affection. But in a marvelous manner he both dissembled about marriage and avoided boasting. This therefore was the one thing which he would not entrust even to his brother and sister, nor from any hesitation of delay, but from the modesty of his virtue.

[8] his frugality, justice, charity toward his brother and sister, Who then would not marvel at a Man, middle in age between two of his kin, the one a virgin, the other a priest, not unequal in greatness of soul, so excelling between two of the greatest offices that he reproduced the chastity of the one office and the holiness of the other, not by the bond of a profession, but by the office of virtue? For what shall I say of his frugality, and a certain chastity in possessing? For he does not seek what belongs to another who keeps his own: he is not puffed up by excess who is content with his own. He wished therefore nothing else than to recover his own, rather that he might not be defrauded than that he might be enriched. For those who sought what belonged to others he rightly called hawks of money. It remains that, for the conclusion of the cardinal virtues, we ought to notice also the parts of justice in him: and what this was in him toward all, the zeal of the provincials over whom he presided shows: who used to say that he had been rather their own parent than their judge, a welcome arbiter of pious obligation, a steadfast decider of equal right. But what he was among his kin, although he embraced every kind of men with benevolence, the undivided patrimony shows, and the inheritance neither distributed nor tasted, but reserved. For he denied that piety was for him a cause of making a will. For this too he marked in his last discourse, when he commended those whom he had loved: that he had had neither the resolve of taking a wife, lest he should be torn from his brother and sister; nor the will of making a testament, lest their own judgment should be injured in anything.

[9] In short, though begged and besought by them, he thought nevertheless that nothing was to be laid down, [his liberality toward the poor. He sets out for Africa, and the business accomplished] not forgetful of the poor; but only beseeching that as much should be bestowed as should seem just to them: by this one thing he both sufficiently expressed the sign of divine fear, and gave an example of human devotion. For what he bestowed on the poor, he offered to God: since he who gives bountifully to the poor lends to God: and by asking what is just, he left not a little, but the whole. For this is the sum of justice ^e: to sell what you have and to bestow it on the poor. Having discharged such virtues, therefore, and having been snatched from dangers ^f, that most valiant athlete of Christ, Satyrus, had need to go back again to the African parts, to recover, namely, certain honors of his paternal inheritance: which he nevertheless wished to reclaim, not because their acquiring was to be sought after, but lest a cheap dissembling should seem to be. For Prosper was applauding himself, and did not think that on the occasion of the priesthood he would have to give back what he had carried off. And this journey the holy bishop bore ill, not enduring in his mind a long absence of his most beloved Brother: since he was unwilling to be separated even for a little from the company of so great a Man. Letters therefore being sent after him, he tried to call his Brother back, that he should not himself go on to Africa, but rather appoint someone else. But he, relying on fortitude of soul, did not fail to pursue the journey he had begun: and came, God willing, to Sicily ^g. He accomplished everything; he completed the journey; he settled the common business: and the man who had wickedly seized it, paying all, found the effectiveness of one more vehement than that of two.

[10] After this the man of the Lord, having discharged all, hastened his return: he returns, notwithstanding the danger which threatened Italy: and when he was being called back by Symmachus, a noble man, his kinsman, because Italy was said to be ablaze with war, because he was making toward danger, because he was running upon the enemy; he answered: This very thing is my cause for coming, that I may not be wanting to the common danger, that I may show myself a sharer in my brother's peril. At that time, finally, hostile assaults of barbarians through the Alps of Gaul were eager to burst into Italy — men so impure and cruel that they would spare neither chastity nor life. You would have seen ^h virgins seized, and little children torn from their parents' embrace tossed upon the spears, bodies consecrated to God violated, and the aged womb of an older widow put back to uses long unaccustomed, of burdens, not of children. By these and grave tidings of this kind the holy Man is by no means terrified: but, again trusting himself to the waves in an old and leaky ship, he returned, with God for companion, to Milan. In which deed the fortitude

of his — if anyone wishes to behold it more fully, let him consider how often after the shipwreck, with a certain unconquered contempt of this life, he crossed the seas, and traversed far-spread regions in visiting them, and finally that at this very time he did not flee from danger, but came to danger.

[11] And not long after, being touched by bodily indisposition, he lay gravely wearied upon his little bed. Then indeed came the mourning and lamentation of all, but chiefly the irremediable grief of his sister. Him restored from Africa, given back from the sea, saved from shipwreck, a little after his return, all lamenting, he dies, they wept tearfully to be snatched from them so unlooked-for, and with them all sexes, ages, and orders: and with a certain new piety they grieved that their own Father was being taken from them. Why should I delay? He indeed, departing from the present life, passed over to Christ, whom he had always desired to see, to live forever, but he left an immense grief to the people of Italy. Of the course of his praiseworthy life and his happy departure there are remarkable writings of the most sacred bishop Ambrose, his often-to-be-named brother, though full of immense grief and tears: of which we have thought it not unfitting to subjoin some things.

[12] and is committed to burial by his brother Ambrose, Most holy Satyrus, then, having been translated to the heavenly kingdom, the magnificent pontiff caused his most sacred body to be carried honorably to the Ambrosian basilica ⁱ, innumerable troops of the funeral procession following it. Which body nevertheless he himself, bedewed with rivulets of tears, buried with his own hands in another basilica far off ^k, [at] the left hand of the glorious martyr: and saying the last farewell, with a tearful voice he addressed his Brother as though living: Now, Brother, whither shall I go forward, or whither shall I turn? The ox seeks the ox, and thinks he does not wholly live, and with frequent lowing testifies his loyal affection: if perchance he has lost the one with whom he was wont to draw the plow. Shall I not seek thee, Brother, or can I ever forget thee, with whom I always bore the plows of this life, inferior in labor, but more closely joined in love; not so much fit through my own strength as endurable through thy patience: thou who, always solicitous with loyal affection, didst fence my side with thy side, in charity as a brother, in care as a father, in solicitude as an elder?

[13] having first been praised with a mournful oration and with tears. With these and very many other words satisfying his brotherly grief, suffused with tears, lifting his eyes to heaven, he said: To thee, almighty eternal God, I give thanks: that thou didst not deny us even these last consolations, that thou didst confer on us the longed-for return of a most loving Brother from the Sicilian regions. For so speedily, after he came, was he snatched away, as though for this alone he seemed to have been delayed, that he might return to his brethren. I have plainly my pledge, which no journeying can tear from me. I have remains which I may embrace: I have a tomb which I may cover with my body: I have a sepulcher in which I may lie. And I shall believe that I shall be the more commendable to God, in that I rest above the bones of a holy body. To thee now, almighty Christ, I commend an innocent soul: to thee I offer a victim. Receive, propitious and serene, a brother's gift, the sacrifice of a priest; thou who didst offer thyself an immaculate sacrifice to God the Father for us all. To thee be eternal praise and infinite thanksgiving: for thou art the immortal and blessed God: who with the Father and the Holy Spirit livest and reignest for ages of ages. Amen.

ANNOTATIONS.

cognitum* (known)

Ambrose: Videte, ne* (See that you do not)