Martin was a soldier three years, against his will, under Constantine.
One bleak winter day he cut his white military coat in two with his
sword and clothed a beggar with half of it. That night he heard Jesus
address the angels: "Martin, as yet only a catechumen has clothed me
with his garment." After leaving the army he became a hermit, and,
subsequently, bishop of Tours. He lived for years just outside of Tours
in a cell made of interlaced branches. His monks dwelt around him in
caves cut out of scarped rocks, overlooking a beautiful stream. They
were clad in camel's hair and lived on a diet of brown bread, sleeping
on a straw couch.
But Martin's monks did not take altogether kindly to their mode of life.
Severus records an amusing story of their rebellion against the meager
allowance of food. The Egyptian could exist on a few figs a day. But
these rude Gauls, just emerging out of barbarism, were accustomed to
devour great slices of roasted meat and to drink deep draughts of beer.
Such sturdy children of the northern forests naturally disdained dainty
morsels of barley bread and small potations of wine. True, Athanasius
had said, "Fasting is the food of angels," but these ascetic novices, in
their perplexity, could only say: "We are accused of gluttony; but we
are Gauls; it is ridiculous and cruel to make us live like angels; we
are not angels; once more, we are only Gauls." Their complaint comes
down to us as a pathetic but humorous protest of common sense against
ascetic fanaticism; or, regarded in another light, it may be considered
as additional evidence of the depravity of the natural man.
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