At the time when the Vandals were carrying out their dreadful brigandage in Campania, a great number of people were transported to African soil.
The man of God, Saint Paulinus of Nola, sacrificed everything at his disposal for the sake of captives and the poor. All his resources were exhausted, and he had nothing left for the people who would turn to his charity.
One day, however, a widow came to him. Her son had been dragged into captivity by the very son-in-law of the King of the Vandals. She explained her misfortune to the man of God and asked him for the price of the ransom for a captive so dear to her heart, in order to offer it to this powerful man and obtain, if he deigned to accept it, the return of her son to his home. But though the man of God searched for the sum that this afflicted mother so urgently requested, he found nothing in his possession except his own person.
He therefore replied to her:
"Good woman, I have nothing to give you; but take me, declare that I am your property, your slave, and, to recover your son, deliver me to his master: I will serve him in his place."
This proposal, coming from the mouth of so great a man, seemed to her more a mockery than an act of true compassion. But as Saint Paulinus of Nola was very eloquent and perfectly learned in human letters, he soon dispelled this woman's doubts, won her trust, and obtained from her that she would fearlessly deliver her bishop into slavery to recover her son. They both went to Africa.
The king's son-in-law, who possessed the son of the grieving widow, having appeared in public, she presented herself before him to implore him to kindly restore him to her. Swollen with pride and intoxicated by the delights of ephemeral prosperity, the barbarian did not even deign to listen to her prayer. Then the poor woman added:
"Here is a man I offer you in his place; please, I beg you, have pity on me and return my only son to me."
At the sight of this man with a gracious and venerable countenance, the Vandal asked him what trade he knew.
"None," replied the man of God; "but I know well how to cultivate a garden."
Flattered to learn that he possessed the science of gardening, the barbarian received him as a slave and returned the son to the widow's prayers. She immediately left the African shore, and Saint Paulinus of Nola remained charged with the cultivation he had wished for. The king's son-in-law frequently went to his gardener and addressed various questions to him. He found in him great wisdom, to the point that, renouncing the conversations of his closest friends, he often came to converse with his gardener, charmed as he was by his discourse.
Saint Paulinus of Nola brought green and fragrant herbs for his master's table; then, after receiving a piece of bread, he returned to work: this was his daily task. He had already been acting in this way for a long time when, one day, in one of their conversations, he secretly said to his master:
"Think of your affairs and the wise dispositions required by the empire of the Vandals: soon the king will die, the victim of an unforeseen accident."
The Vandal, the object of the king's predilection, did not keep this revelation a secret from him; he communicated to him what his gardener, a man full of wisdom, had told him. This confidence received, the king replied:
"I would very much like to see the person you are telling me about."
The king's son-in-law, the temporary master of the venerable Paulinus, answered him:
"It is his habit to bring me green and fragrant herbs for my dinner; by my order, he will bring them to you yourself when you are at table, and then you will be given to know the author of this advice."
The thing was thus executed. The king was at table for dinner when Paulinus came to bring him flowers and greenery. Upon seeing him enter, the king was seized with a sudden fright; he summoned his master, the one whom his alliance with his daughter attached so intimately to his person, and revealed to him in these terms a secret which until then he had kept from him.
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"Nothing is truer than what you have learned; last night I saw before me judges seated on their tribunals; this man was seated among them, and, by their sentence, the rod that had once been placed in my hands was torn from me. But ask him who he is; for my part, I do not believe that a person of such great merit is, as he appears, a man of the people."
Then the king's son-in-law took Paulinus aside and asked him who he was. The man of God replied to him:
"I am your slave, whom you received in exchange for the widow's son."
The Vandal urgently pressed him to reveal not what he was then, but what he had been formerly in his country, and reiterated his ardent solicitations several times. Overcome by the importunity of these prayers, the man of God could no longer escape, and he declared that he was a bishop. Seized with terror at this admission, the lord said to him humbly:
"Ask me what you wish; for I do not want you to leave me, to return to your country, without a considerable gift."
"There is one favor you can grant me," the man of God said to him, "it is to deliver all the captives from my episcopal city."
Immediately the illustrious lord had them sought throughout all of Africa, obligingly placed them in the hands of the venerable Paulinus, and sent them back with him on ships laden with wheat. A few days later, the King of the Vandals died, and thus avoided having the rod torn from him—the rod that God, in His designs, had placed in his hands to chastise the faithful, but which he had abused to his own misfortune.
Thus was verified the prophecy of Saint Paulinus, servant of the Almighty God. Thus he who had alone delivered himself into slavery saw himself restored to liberty with a crowd of companions in misfortune. In this, he imitated Him who took the form of a slave to free us from the slavery of sin.
Walking in His footsteps, Paulinus willingly made himself alone a temporary slave, to later return to freedom with a multitude of captives. When I happen to hear the account of a deed that I do not have the strength to imitate, I am more inclined to weep over it than to comment on it.
Source: The Dialogues of Saint Gregory the Great – 1851