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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Hermits
+
+
+Author: Charles Kingsley
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 3, 2013  [eBook #8733]
+[This file was first posted on August 5, 2003]
+
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMITS***
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1891 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@pglaf.org
+
+                [Picture: St. Brendan setting Sail.—P. 26]
+
+
+
+
+
+                               THE HERMITS
+
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                    BY
+                             CHARLES KINGSLEY
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                              _ILLUSTRATED_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                                  London
+                            MACMILLAN AND CO.
+                               AND NEW YORK
+                                   1891
+
+                  _The Right of Translation is Reserved_
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+                     RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED,
+                            LONDON AND BUNGAY.
+
+                      _First printed in parts_ 1868.
+
+ _Reprinted in_ 1 _Volume_, _Crown_ 8_vo._ 1871, 1875, 1880, 1885, 1890,
+                                  1891.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+                                                  PAGE
+INTRODUCTION                                         1
+SAINT ANTONY                                        21
+THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT            83
+HILARION                                           104
+ARSENIUS                                           149
+THE HERMITS OF ASIA                                155
+BASIL                                              162
+SIMEON STYLITES                                    167
+THE HERMITS OF EUROPE                              219
+ST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM              224
+THE CELTIC HERMITS                                 246
+ST. MALO                                           278
+ST. COLUMBA                                        282
+ST. GUTHLAC                                        300
+ST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE                             309
+ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED                     329
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+ST. BRENDAN SETTING SAIL                                _Frontispiece_
+LIFE OF ST. ANTHONY                                       _To face_ 35
+
+    “And having committed his sister to known and
+    faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith
+    to be educated in a nunnery,” &c.
+PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT                                    _To face_ 92
+
+    “For entering the cave he saw, with bended
+    knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on
+    high, a lifeless corpse.  And at first,
+    thinking that it still lived,” &c.
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+ST. PAPHNUTIUS used to tell a story which may serve as a fit introduction
+to this book.  It contains a miniature sketch, not only of the social
+state of Egypt, but of the whole Roman Empire, and of the causes which
+led to the famous monastic movement in the beginning of the fifth century
+after Christ.
+
+Now Paphnutius was a wise and holy hermit, the Father, Abba, or Abbot of
+many monks; and after he had trained himself in the desert with all
+severity for many years, he besought God to show him which of His saints
+he was like.
+
+And it was said to him, “Thou art like a certain flute-player in the
+city.”
+
+Then Paphnutius took his staff, and went into the city, and found that
+flute-player.  But he confessed that he was a drunkard and a profligate,
+and had till lately got his living by robbery, and recollected not having
+ever done one good deed.  Nevertheless, when Paphnutius questioned him
+more closely, he said that he recollected once having found a holy maiden
+beset by robbers, and having delivered her, and brought her safe to town.
+And when Paphnutius questioned him more closely still, he said he
+recollected having done another deed.  When he was a robber, he met once
+in the desert a beautiful woman; and she prayed him to do her no harm,
+but to take her away with him as a slave, whither he would; for, said
+she, “I am fleeing from the apparitors and the Governor’s curials for the
+last two years.  My husband has been imprisoned for 300 pieces of gold,
+which he owes as arrears of taxes; and has been often hung up, and often
+scourged; and my three dear boys have been taken from me; and I am
+wandering from place to place, and have been often caught myself and
+continually scourged; and now I have been in the desert three days
+without food.”
+
+And when the robber heard that, he took pity on her, and took her to his
+cave, and gave her 300 pieces of gold, and went with her to the city, and
+set her husband and her boys free.
+
+Then Paphnutius said, “I never did a deed like that: and yet I have not
+passed my life in ease and idleness.  But now, my son, since God hath had
+such care of thee, have a care for thine own self.”
+
+And when the musician heard that, he threw away the flutes which he held
+in his hand, and went with Paphnutius into the desert, and passed his
+life in hymns and prayer, changing his earthly music into heavenly; and
+after three years he went to heaven, and was at rest among the choirs of
+angels, and the ranks of the just.
+
+This story, as I said, is a miniature sketch of the state of the whole
+Roman Empire, and of the causes why men fled from it into the desert.
+Christianity had reformed the morals of individuals; it had not reformed
+the Empire itself.  That had sunk into a state only to be compared with
+the worst despotisms of the East.  The Emperors, whether or not they
+called themselves Christian, like Constantine, knew no law save the
+basest maxims of the heathen world.  Several of them were barbarians who
+had risen from the lowest rank merely by military prowess; and who, half
+maddened by their sudden elevation, added to their native ignorance and
+brutality the pride, cunning, and cruelty of an Eastern Sultan.  Rival
+Emperors, or Generals who aspired to be Emperors, devastated the world
+from Egypt to Britain by sanguinary civil wars.  The government of the
+provinces had become altogether military.  Torture was employed, not
+merely, as of old, against slaves, but against all ranks, without
+distinction.  The people were exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent
+in wars which did not concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had
+no share.  In the municipal towns, liberty and justice were dead.  The
+curials, who answered somewhat to our aldermen, and who were responsible
+for the payment of the public moneys, tried their best to escape the
+unpopular office, and, when compelled to serve, wrung the money in
+self-defence out of the poorer inhabitants by every kind of tyranny.  The
+land was tilled either by oppressed and miserable peasants, or by gangs
+of slaves, in comparison with whose lot that even of the American negro
+was light.  The great were served in their own households by crowds of
+slaves, better fed, doubtless, but even more miserable and degraded, than
+those who tilled the estates.  Private profligacy among all ranks was
+such as cannot be described in these or in any modern pages.  The regular
+clergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and for the most
+part, in accordance with public opinion, unmarried, were able to make no
+stand against the general corruption of the age, because—at least if we
+are to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom—they were giving
+themselves up to ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury, intrigue and
+party spirit, and had become the flatterers of fine ladies, “silly women
+laden with sins, ever learning, and never coming to the knowledge of the
+truth.”  Such a state of things not only drove poor creatures into the
+desert, like that fair woman whom the robber met, but it raised up bands
+of robbers over the whole of Europe, Africa, and the East,—men who, like
+Robin Hood and the outlaws of the Middle Age, getting no justice from
+man, broke loose from society, and while they plundered their oppressors,
+kept up some sort of rude justice and humanity among themselves.  Many,
+too, fled, and became robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which
+carried off from every province the flower of the young men, to shed
+their blood on foreign battle-fields.  In time, too, many of these
+conscripts became monks, and the great monasteries of Scetis and Nitria
+were hunted over again and again by officers and soldiers from the
+neighbouring city of Alexandria in search of young men who had entered
+the “spiritual warfare” to escape the earthly one.  And as a background
+to all this seething heap of decay, misrule, and misery, hung the black
+cloud of the barbarians, the Teutonic tribes from whom we derive the best
+part of our blood, ever coming nearer and nearer, waxing stronger and
+stronger, learning discipline and civilization by serving in the Roman
+armies, alternately the allies and the enemies of the Emperors, rising,
+some of them, to the highest offices of State, and destined, so the
+wisest Romans saw all the more clearly as the years rolled on, to be soon
+the conquerors of the Cæsars, and the masters of the Western world.
+
+No wonder if that, in such a state of things, there arose such violent
+contrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric protests against the
+general wickedness, as may be seen in the figure of Abbot Paphnutius,
+when compared either with the poor man tortured in prison for his arrears
+of taxes, or with the Governor and the officials who tortured him.  No
+wonder if, in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a
+passion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of suicide.
+It would have ended often, but for Christianity, in such an actual
+despair as that which had led in past ages more than one noble Roman to
+slay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic.  Christianity
+taught those who despaired of society, of the world—in one word, of the
+Roman Empire, and all that it had done for men—to hope at least for a
+kingdom of God after death.  It taught those who, had they been heathens
+and brave enough, would have slain themselves to escape out of a world
+which was no place for honest men, that the body must be kept alive, if
+for no other reason, at least for the sake of the immortal soul, doomed,
+according to its works, to endless bliss or endless torment.
+
+But that the world—such, at least, as they saw it then—was doomed,
+Scripture and their own reason taught them.  They did not merely believe,
+but see, in the misery and confusion, the desolation and degradation
+around them, that all that was in the world, the lust of the flesh, the
+lust of the eye, and the pride of life, was not of the Father, but of the
+world; that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and that
+only he who did the will of God could abide for ever.  They did not
+merely believe, but saw, that the wrath of God was revealed from heaven
+against all unrighteousness of men; and that the world in general—above
+all, its kings and rulers, the rich and luxurious—were treasuring up for
+themselves wrath, tribulation, and anguish, against a day of wrath and
+revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who would render to every
+man according to his works.
+
+That they were correct in their judgment of the world about them,
+contemporary history proves abundantly.  That they were correct,
+likewise, in believing that some fearful judgment was about to fall on
+man, is proved by the fact that it did fall; that the first half of the
+fifth century saw, not only the sack of Rome, but the conquest and
+desolation of the greater part of the civilized world, amid bloodshed,
+misery, and misrule, which seemed to turn Europe into a chaos,—which
+would have turned it into a chaos, had there not been a few men left who
+still felt it possible and necessary to believe in God and to work
+righteousness.
+
+Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed world,
+and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save each man
+his own soul in that dread day.
+
+Others, not Christians, had done the same before them.  Among all the
+Eastern nations men had appeared, from time to time, to whom the things
+seen were but a passing phantom, the things unseen the only true and
+eternal realities; who, tormented alike by the awfulness of the infinite
+unknown, and by the petty cares and low passions of the finite mortal
+life which they knew but too well, had determined to renounce the latter,
+that they might give themselves up to solving the riddle of the former;
+and be at peace; and free, at least, from the tyranny of their own
+selves.  Eight hundred years before St. Antony fled into the desert, that
+young Hindoo rajah, whom men call Buddha now, had fled into the forest,
+leaving wives and kingdom, to find rest for his soul.  He denounced
+caste; he preached poverty, asceticism, self-annihilation.  He founded a
+religion, like that of the old hermits, democratic and ascetic, with its
+convents, saint-worships, pilgrimages, miraculous relics, rosaries, and
+much more, which strangely anticipates the monastic religion; and his
+followers, to this day, are more numerous than those of any other creed.
+
+Brahmins, too, had given themselves up to penance and mortification till
+they believed themselves able, like Kehama, to have gained by
+self-torture the right to command, not nature merely, but the gods
+themselves.  Among the Jews the Essenes by the Dead Sea, and the
+Therapeutæ in Egypt, had formed ascetic communities, the former more
+“practical,” the latter more “contemplative:” but both alike agreed in
+the purpose of escaping from the world into a life of poverty and
+simplicity, piety and virtue; and among the countless philosophic sects
+of Asia, known to ecclesiastical writers as “heretics,” more than one had
+professed, and doubtless often practised, the same abstraction from the
+world, the same contempt of the flesh.  The very Neo-Platonists of
+Alexandria, while they derided the Christian asceticism, found themselves
+forced to affect, like the hapless Hypatia, a sentimental and pharisaic
+asceticism of their own.  This phase of sight and feeling, so strange to
+us now, was common, nay, primæval, among the Easterns.  The day was come
+when it should pass from the East into the West.  And Egypt, “the mother
+of wonders;” the parent of so much civilization and philosophy both Greek
+and Roman; the half-way resting-place through which not merely the
+merchandise, but the wisdom of the East had for centuries passed into the
+Roman Empire; a land more ill-governed, too, and more miserable, in spite
+of its fertility, because more defenceless and effeminate, than most
+other Roman possessions—was the country in which naturally, and as it
+were of hereditary right, such a movement would first appear.
+
+Accordingly it was discovered, about the end of the fourth century, that
+the mountains and deserts of Egypt were full of Christian men who had
+fled out of the dying world, in the hope of attaining everlasting life.
+Wonderful things were told of their courage, their abstinence, their
+miracles: and of their virtues also; of their purity, their humility,
+their helpfulness, and charity to each other and to all.  They called
+each other, it was said, brothers; and they lived up to that sacred name,
+forgotten, if ever known, by the rest of the Roman Empire.  Like the
+Apostolic Christians in the first fervour of their conversion, they had
+all things in common; they lived at peace with each other, under a mild
+and charitable rule; and kept literally those commands of Christ which
+all the rest of the world explained away to nothing.
+
+The news spread.  It chimed in with all that was best, as well as with
+much that was questionable, in the public mind.  That men could be
+brothers; that they could live without the tawdry luxury, the tasteless
+and often brutal amusements, the low sensuality, the base intrigue, the
+bloody warfare, which was the accepted lot of the many; that they could
+find time to look stedfastly at heaven and hell as awful realities, which
+must be faced some day, which had best be faced at once; this, just as
+much as curiosity about their alleged miracles, and the selfish longing
+to rival them in superhuman powers, led many of the most virtuous and the
+most learned men of the time to visit them, and ascertain the truth.
+Jerome, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Sulpicius Severus, went to see them,
+undergoing on the way the severest toils and dangers, and brought back
+reports of mingled truth and falsehood, specimens of which will be seen
+in these pages.  Travelling in those days was a labour, if not of
+necessity, then surely of love.  Palladius, for instance, found it
+impossible to visit the Upper Thebaid, and Syene, and that “infinite
+multitude of monks, whose fashions of life no one would believe, for they
+surpass human life; who to this day raise the dead, and walk upon the
+waters, like Peter; and whatsoever the Saviour did by the holy Apostles,
+He does now by them.  But because it would be very dangerous if we went
+beyond Lyco” (Lycopolis?), on account of the inroad of robbers, he “could
+not see those saints.”
+
+The holy men and women of whom he wrote, he says, he did not see without
+extreme toil; and seven times he and his companions were nearly lost.
+Once they walked through the desert five days and nights, and were almost
+worn out by hunger and thirst.  Again, they fell on rough marshes, where
+the sedge pierced their feet, and caused intolerable pain, while they
+were almost killed with the cold.  Another time, they stuck in the mud up
+to their waists, and cried with David, “I am come into deep mire, where
+no ground is.”  Another time, they waded for four days through the flood
+of the Nile by paths almost swept away.  Another time they met robbers on
+the seashore, coming to Diolcos, and were chased by them for ten miles.
+Another time they were all but upset and drowned in crossing the Nile.
+Another time, in the marshes of Mareotis, “where paper grows,” they were
+cast on a little desert island, and remained three days and nights in the
+open air, amid great cold and showers, for it was the season of Epiphany.
+The eighth peril, he says, is hardly worth mentioning—but once, when they
+went to Nitria, they came on a great hollow, in which many crocodiles had
+remained, when the waters retired from the fields.  Three of them lay
+along the bank; and the monks went up to them, thinking them dead,
+whereon the crocodiles rushed at them.  But when they called loudly on
+the Lord, “the monsters, as if turned away by an angel,” shot themselves
+into the water; while they ran on to Nitria, meditating on the words of
+Job, “Seven times shall He deliver thee from trouble; and in the eighth
+there shall no evil touch thee.”
+
+The great St. Athanasius, fleeing from persecution, had taken refuge
+among these monks.  He carried the report of their virtues to Trêves in
+Gaul, and wrote a life of St. Antony, the perusal of which was a main
+agent in the conversion of St. Augustine.  Hilarion (a remarkable
+personage, whose history will be told hereafter) carried their report and
+their example likewise into Palestine; and from that time Judæa, desolate
+and seemingly accursed by the sin of the Jewish people, became once more
+the Holy Land; the place of pilgrimage; whose ruins, whose very soil,
+were kept sacred by hermits, the guardians of the footsteps of Christ.
+
+In Rome itself the news produced an effect which, to the thoughtful mind,
+is altogether tragical in its nobleness.  The Roman aristocracy was
+deprived of all political power; it had been decimated, too, with
+horrible cruelty only one generation before, {12} by Valentinian and his
+satellites, on the charges of profligacy, treason, and magic.  Mere rich
+men, they still lingered on, in idleness and luxury, without art,
+science, true civilization of any kind; followed by long trains of
+slaves; punishing a servant with three hundred stripes if he were too
+long in bringing hot water; weighing the fish, or birds, or dormice put
+on their tables, while secretaries stood by, with tablets to record all;
+hating learning as they hated poison; indulging at the baths in conduct
+which had best be left undescribed; and “complaining that they were not
+born among the Cimmerians, if amid their golden fans a fly should perch
+upon the silken fringes, or a slender ray of the sun should pierce
+through the awning;” while, if they “go any distance to see their estates
+in the country, or to hunt at a meeting collected for their amusement by
+others, they think that they have equalled the marches of Alexander or of
+Cæsar.”
+
+On the wives, widows, and daughters of men of this stamp—and not half
+their effeminacy and baseness, as the honest rough old soldier Ammianus
+Marcellinus describes it, has been told here—the news brought from Egypt
+worked with wondrous potency.
+
+Women of the highest rank awoke suddenly to the discovery that life was
+given them for nobler purposes than that of frivolous enjoyment and
+tawdry vanity.  Despising themselves; despising the husbands to whom they
+had been wedded in loveless marriages _de convenance_, whose infidelities
+they had too often to endure: they, too, fled from a world which had
+sated and sickened them.  They freed their slaves; they gave away their
+wealth to found hospitals and to feed the poor; and in voluntary poverty
+and mean garments they followed such men as Jerome and Ruffinus across
+the seas, to visit the new found saints of the Egyptian desert, and to
+end their days, in some cases, in doleful monasteries in Palestine.  The
+lives of such women as those of the Anician house; the lives of Marcella
+and Furia, of Paula, of the Melanias, and the rest, it is not my task to
+write.  They must be told by a woman, not by a man.  We may blame those
+ladies, if we will, for neglecting their duties.  We may sneer, if we
+will, at the weaknesses—the aristocratic pride, the spiritual
+vanity—which we fancy that we discover.  We may lament—and in that we
+shall not be wrong—the influence which such men as Jerome obtained over
+them—the example and precursor of so much which has since then been
+ruinous to family and social life: but we must confess that the fault lay
+not with the themselves, but with their fathers, husbands, and brothers;
+we must confess that in these women the spirit of the old Roman matrons,
+which seemed to have been so long dead, flashed up for one splendid
+moment, ere it sunk into the darkness of the Middle Age; that in them
+woman asserted (however strangely and fantastically) her moral equality
+with man; and that at the very moment when monasticism was consigning her
+to contempt, almost to abhorrence, as “the noxious animal,” the “fragile
+vessel,” the cause of man’s fall at first, and of his sin and misery ever
+since, woman showed the monk (to his naïvely-confessed surprise), that
+she could dare, and suffer, and adore as well as he.
+
+But the movement, having once seized the Roman Empire, grew and spread
+irresistibly.  It was accepted, supported, preached, practised, by every
+great man of the time.  Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, Gregory of
+Nazianzen in the East, Jerome, Augustine, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Fulgentius,
+Sulpicius Severus, Vincent of Lerins, John Cassian, Martin of Tours,
+Salvian, Cæsarius of Arles, were all monks, or as much of monks as their
+duties would allow them to be.  Ambrose of Milan, though no monk himself,
+was the fervent preacher of, the careful legislator for, monasticism male
+and female.  Throughout the whole Roman Empire, in the course of a
+century, had spread hermits (or dwellers in the desert), anchorites
+(retired from the world), or monks (dwellers alone).  The three names
+grew afterwards to designate three different orders of ascetics.  The
+hermits remained through the Middle Ages those who dwelt in deserts; the
+anchorites, or “ankers” of the English Middle Age, seem generally to have
+inhabited cells built in, or near, the church walls; the name of “monks”
+was transferred from those who dwelt alone to those who dwelt in regular
+communities, under a fixed government.  But the three names at first were
+interchangeable; the three modes of life alternated, often in the same
+man.  The life of all three was the same,—celibacy, poverty, good deeds
+towards their fellow-men; self-restraint, and sometimes self-torture of
+every kind, to atone (as far as might be) for the sins committed after
+baptism: and the mental food of all three was the same likewise;
+continued meditation upon the vanity of the world, the sinfulness of the
+flesh, the glories of heaven, and the horrors of hell: but with these the
+old hermits combined—to do them justice—a personal faith in God, and a
+personal love for Christ, which those who sneer at them would do well to
+copy.
+
+Over all Europe, even to Ireland, {15} the same pattern of Christian
+excellence repeated itself with strange regularity, till it became the
+only received pattern; and to “enter religion,” or “be converted,” meant
+simply to become a monk.
+
+Of the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few specimens are
+given in this volume.  If they shall seem to any reader uncouth, or even
+absurd, he must remember that they are the only existing and the
+generally contemporaneous histories of men who exercised for 1,300 years
+an enormous influence over the whole of Christendom; who exercise a vast
+influence over the greater part of it to this day.  They are the
+biographies of men who were regarded, during their lives and after their
+deaths, as divine and inspired prophets; and who were worshipped with
+boundless trust and admiration by millions of human beings.  Their fame
+and power were not created by the priesthood.  The priesthood rather
+leant on them, than they on it.  They occupied a post analogous to that
+of the old Jewish prophets; always independent of, sometimes opposed to,
+the regular clergy; and dependent altogether on public opinion and the
+suffrage of the multitude.  When Christianity, after three centuries of
+repression and persecution, emerged triumphant as the creed of the whole
+civilized world, it had become what their lives describe.  The model of
+religious life for the fifth century, it remained a model for succeeding
+centuries; on the lives of St. Antony and his compeers were founded the
+whole literature of saintly biographies; the whole popular conception of
+the universe, and of man’s relation to it; the whole science of
+dæmonology, with its peculiar literature, its peculiar system of criminal
+jurisprudence.  And their influence did not cease at the Reformation
+among Protestant divines.  The influence of these Lives of the Hermit
+Fathers is as much traceable, even to style and language, in “The
+Pilgrim’s Progress” as in the last Papal Allocution.  The great hermits
+of Egypt were not merely the founders of that vast monastic system which
+influenced the whole politics, and wars, and social life, as well as the
+whole religion, of the Middle Age; they were a school of philosophers (as
+they rightly called themselves) who altered the whole current of human
+thought.
+
+Those who wish for a general notion of the men, and of their time, will
+find all that they require (set forth from different points of view,
+though with the same honesty and learning) in Gibbon; in M. de
+Montalembert’s “Moines d’Occident,” in Dean Milman’s “History of
+Christianity” and “Latin Christianity,” and in Ozanam’s “Etudes
+Germaniques.” {17a}  But the truest notion of the men is to be got, after
+all, from the original documents; and especially from that curious
+collection of them by the Jesuit Rosweyde, commonly known as the “Lives
+of the Hermit Fathers.” {17b}
+
+After an acquaintance of now five-and-twenty years with this wonderful
+treasury of early Christian mythology, to which all fairy tales are dull
+and meagre, I am almost inclined to sympathise with M. de Montalembert’s
+questions,—“Who is so ignorant, or so unfortunate, as not to have
+devoured these tales of the heroic age of monachism?  Who has not
+contemplated, if not with the eyes of faith, at least with the admiration
+inspired by an incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles of these
+athletes of penitence? . . . .  Everything is to be found there—variety,
+pathos, the sublime and simple epic of a race of men, _naïfs_ as
+children, and strong as giants.”  In whatever else one may differ from M.
+de Montalembert—and it is always painful to differ from one whose pen has
+been always the faithful servant of virtue and piety, purity and
+chivalry, loyalty and liberty, and whose generous appreciation of England
+and the English is the more honourable to him, by reason of an utter
+divergence in opinion, which in less wide and noble spirits produces only
+antipathy—one must at least agree with him in his estimate of the
+importance of these “Lives of the Fathers,” not only to the
+ecclesiologist, but to the psychologist and the historian.  Their
+influence, subtle, often transformed and modified again and again, but
+still potent from its very subtleness, is being felt around us in many a
+puzzle—educational, social, political; and promises to be felt still more
+during the coming generation; and to have studied thoroughly one of
+them—say the life of St. Antony by St. Athanasius—is to have had in our
+hands (whether we knew it or not) the key to many a lock, which just now
+refuses either to be tampered with or burst open.
+
+I have determined, therefore, to give a few of these lives, translated as
+literally as possible.  Thus the reader will then have no reason to fear
+a garbled or partial account of personages so difficult to conceive or
+understand.  He will be able to see the men as wholes; to judge
+(according to his light) of their merits and their defects.  The very
+style of their biographers (which is copied as literally as is compatible
+with the English tongue) will teach him, if he be wise, somewhat of the
+temper and habits of thought of the age in which they lived; and one of
+these original documents, with its honesty, its vivid touches of
+contemporary manners, its intense earnestness, will give, perhaps, a more
+true picture of the whole hermit movement than (with all respect, be it
+said) the most brilliant general panorama.
+
+It is impossible to give in this series all the lives of the early
+hermits—even of those contained in Rosweyde.  This volume will contain,
+therefore, only the most important and most famous lives of the Egyptian,
+Syrian, and Persian hermits, followed, perhaps, by a few later
+biographies from Western Europe, as proofs that the hermit-type, as it
+spread toward the Atlantic, remained still the same as in the Egyptian
+desert.
+
+Against one modern mistake the reader must be warned; the theory, namely,
+that these biographies were written as religious romances; edifying, but
+not historical; to be admired, but not believed.  There is not the
+slightest evidence that such was the case.  The lives of these, and most
+other saints (certainly those in this volume), were written by men who
+believed the stories themselves, after such inquiry into the facts as
+they deemed necessary; who knew that others would believe them; and who
+intended that they should do so; and the stones were believed
+accordingly, and taken as matter of fact for the most practical purposes
+by the whole of Christendom.  The forging of miracles, like the forging
+of charters, for the honour of a particular shrine, or the advantage of a
+particular monastery, belongs to a much later and much worse age; and,
+whatsoever we may think of the taste of the authors of these lives, or of
+their faculty for judging of evidence, we must at least give them credit
+for being earnest men, incapable of what would have been in their eyes,
+and ought to be in ours, not merely falsehood, but impiety.  Let the
+reader be sure of this—that these documents would not have exercised
+their enormous influence on the human mind, had there not been in them,
+under whatever accidents of credulity, and even absurdity, an element of
+sincerity, virtue, and nobility.
+
+
+
+
+SAINT ANTONY
+
+
+THE life of Antony, by Athanasius, is perhaps the most important of all
+these biographies; because first, Antony was generally held to be the
+first great example and preacher of the hermit life; because next,
+Athanasius, his biographer, having by his controversial writings
+established the orthodox faith as it is now held alike by Romanists,
+Greeks, and Protestants, did, by his publication of the life of Antony,
+establish the hermit life as the ideal (in his opinion) of Christian
+excellence; and lastly, because that biography exercised a most potent
+influence on the conversion of St. Augustine, the greatest thinker
+(always excepting St. Paul) whom the world had seen since Plato, whom the
+world was to see again till Lord Bacon; the theologian and philosopher
+(for he was the latter, as well as the former, in the strictest sense) to
+whom the world owes, not only the formulizing of the whole scheme of the
+universe for a thousand years after his death, but Calvinism (wrongly so
+called) in all its forms, whether held by the Augustinian party in the
+Church of Rome, or the “Reformed” Churches of Geneva, France, and
+Scotland.
+
+Whether we have the exact text of the document as Athanasius wrote it to
+the “Foreign Brethren”—probably the religious folk of Trêves—in the Greek
+version published by Heschelius in 1611, and in certain earlier Greek
+texts; whether the Latin translation attributed to Evagrius, which has
+been well known for centuries past in the Latin Church, be actually his;
+whether it be exactly that of which St. Jerome speaks, and whether it be
+exactly that which St. Augustine saw, are questions which it is now
+impossible to decide.  But of the genuineness of the life in its entirety
+we have no right to doubt, contrary to the verdicts of the most
+distinguished scholars, whether Protestant or Catholic; and there is fair
+reason to suppose that the document (allowing for errors and variations
+of transcribers) which I have tried to translate, is that of which the
+great St. Augustine speaks in the eighth book of his Confessions.
+
+He tells us that he was reclaimed at last from a profligate life (the
+thought of honourable marriage seems never to have entered his mind), by
+meeting, while practising as a rhetorician at Trêves, an old African
+acquaintance, named Potitanius, an officer of rank.  What followed no
+words can express so well as those of the great genius himself.
+
+“When I told him that I was giving much attention to those writings (the
+Epistles of Paul), we began to talk, and he to tell, of Antony, the monk
+of Egypt, whose name was then very famous among thy servants: {23} but
+was unknown to us till that moment.  When he discovered that, he spent
+some time over the subject, detailing his virtues, and wondering at our
+ignorance.  We were astounded at hearing such well-attested marvels of
+him, so recent and almost contemporaneous, wrought in the right faith of
+the Catholic Church.  We all wondered: we, that they were so great; and
+he, that we had not heard of them.  Thence his discourse ran on to those
+flocks of hermit-cells, and the morals of thy sweetness, and the fruitful
+deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nought.  There was a
+monastery, too, at Milan, full of good brethren, outside the city walls,
+under the tutelage of Ambrosius, and we knew nothing of it.  He went on
+still speaking, and we listened intently; and it befell that he told us
+how, I know not when, he and three of his mess companions at Trêves,
+while the emperor was engaged in an afternoon spectacle in the circus,
+went out for a walk in the gardens round the walls; and as they walked
+there in pairs, one with him alone, and the two others by themselves,
+they parted.  And those two, straying about, burst into a cottage, where
+dwelt certain servants of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the
+kingdom of heaven; and there found a book, in which was written the life
+of Antony.  One of them began to read it, and to wonder, and to be
+warned; and, as he read, to think of taking up such a life, and leaving
+the warfare of this world to serve thee.  Now, he was one of those whom
+they call Managers of Affairs. {24}  Then, suddenly filled with holy love
+and sober shame, angered at himself, he cast his eyes on his friend, and
+said, ‘Tell me, prithee, with all these labours of ours, whither are we
+trying to get?  What are we seeking?  For what are we soldiering?  Can we
+have a higher hope in the palace, than to become friends of the emperor?
+And when there, what is not frail and full of dangers?  And through how
+many dangers we do not arrive at a greater danger still?  And how long
+will that last?  But if I choose to become a friend of God, I can do it
+here and now.’  He spoke thus, and, swelling in the labour-pangs of a new
+life, he fixed his eyes again on the pages and read, and was changed
+inwardly as thou lookedst on him, and his mind was stripped of the world,
+as soon appeared.  For while he read, and rolled over the billows of his
+soul, he shuddered and hesitated from time to time, and resolved better
+things; and already thine, he said to his friend, ‘I have already torn
+myself from that hope of ours, and have settled to serve God; and this I
+begin from this hour, in this very place.  If you do not like to imitate
+me, do not oppose me.’  He replied that he would cling to his companion
+in such a great service and so great a warfare.  And both, now thine,
+began building, at their own cost, the tower of leaving all things and
+following thee.  Then Potitianus, and the man who was talking with him
+elsewhere in the garden, seeking them, came to the same place, and warned
+them to return, as the sun was getting low.  They, however, told their
+resolution, and how it had sprung up and taken strong hold in them, and
+entreated the others not to give them pain.  They, not altered from their
+former mode of life, yet wept (as he told us) for themselves; and
+congratulated them piously, and commended themselves to their prayers;
+and then dragging their hearts along the earth, went back to the palace.
+But the others, fixing their hearts on heaven, remained in the cottage.
+And both of them had affianced brides, who, when they heard this,
+dedicated their virginity to thee.”
+
+The part which this incident played in St. Augustine’s own conversion
+must be told hereafter in his life.  But the scene which his master-hand
+has drawn is not merely the drama of his own soul or of these two young
+officers, but of a whole empire.  It is, as I said at first, the tragedy
+and suicide of the old empire; and the birth-agony of which he speaks was
+not that of an individual soul here or there, but of a whole new world,
+for good and evil.  The old Roman soul was dead within, the body of it
+dead without.  Patriotism, duty, purpose of life, save pleasure, money,
+and intrigue, had perished.  The young Roman officer had nothing left for
+which to fight; the young Roman gentleman nothing left for which to be a
+citizen and an owner of lands.  Even the old Roman longing (which was
+also a sacred duty) of leaving an heir to perpetuate his name, and serve
+the state as his fathers had before him—even that was gone.  Nothing was
+left, with the many, but selfishness, which could rise at best into the
+desire of saving every man his own soul, and so transform worldliness
+into other-worldliness.  The old empire could do nothing more for man;
+and knew that it could do nothing; and lay down in the hermit’s cell to
+die.
+
+Trêves was then “the second metropolis of the empire,” boasting, perhaps,
+even then, as it boasts still, that it was standing thirteen hundred
+years before Rome was built.  Amid the low hills, pierced by rocky dells,
+and on a strath of richest soil, it had grown, from the mud-hut town of
+the Treviri, into a noble city of palaces, theatres, baths,
+triumphal-arches, on either side the broad and clear Moselle.  The bridge
+which Augustus had thrown across the river, four hundred years before the
+times of hermits and of saints, stood like a cliff through all barbarian
+invasions, through all the battles and sieges of the Middle Age, till it
+was blown up by the French in the wars of Louis XIV., and nought remains
+save the huge piers of black lava stemming the blue stream; while up and
+down the dwindled city, the colossal fragments of Roman work—the Black
+Gate, the Heidenthurm, the baths, the Basilica or Hall of Justice, now a
+Lutheran church—stand out half ruined, like the fossil bones of giants
+amid the works of weaker, though of happier times; while the amphitheatre
+was till late years planted thick with vines, fattening in soil drenched
+with the blood of thousands.  Trêves had been the haunt of emperor after
+emperor, men wise and strong, cruel and terrible;—of Constantius,
+Constantine the Great, Julian, Valentinian, Valens; and lastly, when
+Potitianus’s friends found those poor monks in the garden {27} of
+Gratian, the gentle hunter who thought day and night on sport, till his
+arrows were said to be instinct with life, was holding his military court
+within the walls of Trêves, or at that hunting palace on the northern
+downs, where still on the bath-floors lie the mosaics of hare and deer,
+and boar and hound, on which the feet of Emperors trod full fifteen
+hundred years ago.
+
+Still glorious outwardly, like the Roman empire itself, was that great
+city of Trêves; but inwardly it was full of rottenness and weakness.  The
+Roman empire had been, in spite of all its crimes, for four hundred years
+the salt of the earth: but now the salt had lost its savour; and in one
+generation more it would be trodden under foot and cast upon the
+dunghill, and another empire would take its place,—the empire, not of
+brute strength and self-indulgence, but of sympathy and self-denial,—an
+empire, not of Cæsars, but of hermits.  Already was Gratian the friend
+and pupil of St. Ambrose of Milan; already, too, was he persecuting,
+though not to the death, heretics and heathens.  Nay, some fifty years
+before (if the legend can be in the least trusted) had St. Helena, the
+mother of Constantine the Great, returned from Palestine, bearing with
+her—so men believed—not only the miraculously discovered cross of Christ,
+but the seamless coat which he had worn; and, turning her palace into a
+church, deposited the holy coat therein: where—so some believe—it remains
+until this day.  Men felt that a change was coming, but whence it would
+come, or how terrible it would be, they could not tell.  It was to be, as
+the prophet says, “like the bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth
+suddenly in an instant.”  In the very amphitheatre where Gratian sat that
+afternoon, with all the folk of Trêves about him, watching, it may be,
+lions and antelopes from Africa slaughtered—it may be criminals tortured
+to death—another and an uglier sight had been twice seen some seventy
+years before.  Constantine, so-called the Great, had there exhibited his
+“Frankish sports,” the “magnificent spectacle,” the “famous punishments,”
+as his flattering court-historians called them: thousands of Frank
+prisoners, many of them of noble, and even of royal blood, torn to pieces
+by wild beasts, while they stood fearless, smiling with folded arms; and
+when the wild beasts were gorged, and slew no more, weapons were put into
+the hands of the survivors, and they were bidden to fight to the death
+for the amusement of their Roman lords.  But fight they would not against
+their own flesh and blood: and as for life, all chance of that was long
+gone by.  So every man fell joyfully upon his brother’s sword, and, dying
+like a German man, spoilt the sport of the good folk of Trêves.  And it
+seemed for a while as if there were no God in heaven who cared to avenge
+such deeds of blood.  For the kinsmen, it may be the very sons, of those
+Franks were now in Gratian’s pay; and the Frank Merobaudes was his “Count
+of the Domestics,” and one of his most successful and trusted generals;
+and all seemed to go well, and brute force and craft to triumph on the
+earth.
+
+And yet those two young staff officers, when they left the imperial court
+for the hermit’s cell, judged, on the whole, prudently and well, and
+chose the better part when they fled from the world to escape the
+“dangers” of ambition, and the “greater danger still” of success.  For
+they escaped, not merely from vice and worldliness, but, as the event
+proved, from imminent danger of death if they kept the loyalty which they
+had sworn to their emperor; or the worse evil of baseness if they turned
+traitors to him to save their lives.
+
+For little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre, that the day
+was coming when he, the hunter of game—and of heretics—would be hunted in
+his turn; when, deserted by his army, betrayed by Merobaudes—whose elder
+kinsfolk were not likely to have kept him ignorant of “the Frankish
+sports”—he should flee pitiably towards Italy, and die by a German hand;
+some say near Lyons, some say near Belgrade, calling on Ambrose with his
+latest breath. {29}  Little thought, too, the good folk of Trêves, as
+they sat beneath the vast awning that afternoon, that within the next
+half century a day of vengeance was coming for them, which should teach
+them that there was a God who “maketh inquisition for blood;” a day when
+Trêves should be sacked in blood and flame by those very “barbarian”
+Germans whom they fancied their allies—or their slaves.  And least of all
+did they fancy that, when that great destruction fell upon their city,
+the only element in it which would pass safely through the fire and rise
+again, and raise their city to new glory and power, was that which was
+represented by those poor hermits in the garden-hut outside.  Little
+thought they that above the awful arches of the Black Gate—as if in
+mockery of the Roman Power—a lean anchorite would take his stand, Simeon
+of Syracuse by name, a monk of Mount Sinai, and there imitate, in the far
+West, the austerities of St. Simeon Stylites in the East, and be enrolled
+in the new Pantheon, not of Cæsars, but of Saints.
+
+Under the supposed patronage of those Saints, Trêves rose again out of
+its ruins.  It gained its four great abbeys of St. Maximus (on the site
+of Constantine’s palace); St. Matthias, in the crypt whereof the bodies
+of the monks never decay; {30} St. Martin; and St. Mary of the Four
+Martyrs, where four soldiers of the famous Theban legion are said to have
+suffered martyrdom by the house of the Roman prefect.  It had its
+cathedral of St. Peter and St. Helena, supposed to be built out of St.
+Helena’s palace; its exquisite Liebfrauenkirche; its palace of the old
+Archbishops, mighty potentates of this world, as well as of the kingdom
+of heaven.  For they were princes, arch-chancellors, electors of the
+empire, owning many a league of fertile land, governing, and that kindly
+and justly, towns and villages of Christian men, and now and then going
+out to war, at the head of their own knights and yeomen, in defence of
+their lands, and of the saints whose servants and trustees they were; and
+so became, according to their light and their means, the salt of that
+land for many generations.
+
+And after a while that salt, too, lost its savour, and was, in its turn,
+trodden under foot.  The French republican wars swept away the
+ecclesiastical constitution and the wealth of the ancient city.  The
+cathedral and churches were stripped of relics, of jewels, of treasures
+of early art.  The Prince-bishop’s palace is a barrack; so was lately St.
+Maximus’s shrine; St. Martin’s a china manufactory, and St. Matthias’s a
+school.  Trêves belongs to Prussia, and not to “Holy Church;” and all the
+old splendours of the “empire of the saints” are almost as much ruinate
+as those of the “empire of the Romans.”  So goes the world, because there
+is a living God.
+
+    “The old order changeth, giving place to the new;
+    And God fulfils himself in many ways,
+    Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.”
+
+But though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens outside still
+bloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered through them, perpetual
+as Nature’s self; and perpetual as Nature, too, endures whatever is good
+and true of that afternoon’s work, and of that finding of the legend of
+St. Antony in the monk’s cabin, which fixed the destiny of the great
+genius of the Latin Church.
+
+The story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, {32} runs
+thus:—
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+The life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written and sent to
+the monks in foreign parts by our Father among the saints, Athanasius,
+Archbishop of Alexandria.
+
+You have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having determined
+either to equal or even to surpass them in your training towards virtue;
+for there are monasteries already among you, and the monastic life is
+practised.  This purpose of yours one may justly praise; and if you pray,
+God will bring it to perfection.  But since you have also asked me about
+the conversation of the holy Antony, wishing to learn how he began his
+training, and who he was before it, and what sort of an end he made to
+his life, and whether what is said of him is true, in order that you may
+bring yourselves to emulate him, with great readiness I received your
+command.  For to me, too, it is a great gain and benefit only to remember
+Antony; and I know that you, when you hear of him, after you have
+wondered at the man, will wish also to emulate his purpose.  For the life
+of Antony is for monks a perfect pattern of ascetic training.  What,
+then, you have heard about him from other informants do not disbelieve,
+but rather think that you have heard from them a small part of the facts.
+For in any case, they could hardly relate fully such great matters, when
+even I, at your request, howsoever much I may tell you in my letter, can
+only send you a little which I remember about him.  But do not cease to
+inquire of those who sail from hence; for perhaps, if each tells what he
+knows, at last his history may be worthily compiled.  I had wished,
+indeed, when I received your letter, to send for some of the monks who
+were wont to be most frequently in his company, that I might learn
+something more, and send you a fuller account.  But since both the season
+of navigation limited me, and the letter-carrier was in haste, I hastened
+to write to your piety what I myself know (for I have often seen him),
+and what I was able to learn from one who followed him for no short time,
+and poured water upon his hands; always taking care of the truth, in
+order that no one when he hears too much may disbelieve, nor again, if he
+learns less than is needful, despise the man.
+
+Antony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, {33} who had a
+sufficient property of their own: and as they were Christians, he too was
+Christianly brought up, and when a boy was nourished in the house of his
+parents, besides whom and his home he knew nought.  But when he grew
+older, he would not be taught letters, {34} not wishing to mix with other
+boys; but all his longing was (according to what is written of Jacob) to
+dwell simply in his own house.  But when his parents took him into the
+Lord’s house, he was not saucy, like a boy, nor inattentive as he grew
+older; but was subject to his parents, and attentive to what was read,
+turning it to his own account.  Nor again (as a boy who was moderately
+well off) did he trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties,
+nor did he run after the pleasures of this life; but was content with
+what he found, and asked for nothing more.  When his parents died, he was
+left alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or twenty
+years of age, and took care both of his house and of her.  But not six
+months after their death, as he was going as usual to the Lord’s house,
+and collecting his thoughts, he meditated as he walked how the Apostles
+had left all and followed the Saviour; and how those in the Acts brought
+the price of what they had sold, and laid it at the Apostles’ feet, to be
+given away to the poor; and what and how great a hope was laid up for
+them in heaven.  With this in his mind, he entered the church.  And it
+befell then that the Gospel was being read; and he heard how the Lord had
+said to the rich man, “If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou hast,
+and give to the poor; and come, follow me, and thou shalt have treasure
+in heaven.”  Antony, therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints had
+come to him from God, and as if the lesson had been read on his account,
+went forth at once from the Lord’s house, and gave away to those of his
+own village the possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three
+hundred plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that they might give no
+trouble either to him or his sister.  All his moveables he sold, and a
+considerable sum which he received for them he gave to the poor.  But
+having kept back a little for his sister, when he went again into the
+Lord’s house he heard the Lord saying in the Gospel, “Take no thought for
+the morrow,” and, unable to endure any more delay, he went out and
+distributed that too to the needy.  And having committed his sister to
+known and faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith to be educated in
+a nunnery, he himself thenceforth devoted himself, outside his house, to
+training; {35} taking heed to himself, and using himself severely.  For
+monasteries were not then common in Egypt, nor did any monks at all know
+the wide desert; but each who wished to take heed to himself exercised
+himself alone, not far from his own village.  There was then in the next
+village an old man, who had trained himself in a solitary life from his
+youth.  When Antony saw him, he emulated him in that which is noble.  And
+first he began to stay outside the village; and then, if he heard of any
+earnest man, he went to seek him, like a wise bee; and did not return
+till he had seen him, and having got from him (as it were) provision for
+his journey toward virtue, went his way.  So dwelling there at first, he
+settled his mind neither to look back towards his parents’ wealth nor to
+recollect his relations; but he put all his longing and all his
+earnestness on training himself more intensely.  For the rest he worked
+with his hands, because he had heard, “If any man will not work, neither
+let him eat;” and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some on
+the needy.  He prayed continually, because he knew that one ought to pray
+secretly, without ceasing.  He attended, also, so much to what was read,
+that, with him, none of the Scriptures fell to the ground, but he
+retained them all, and for the future his memory served him instead of
+books.  Behaving thus, Antony was beloved by all; and submitted truly to
+the earnest men to whom he used to go.  And from each of them he learnt
+some improvement in his earnestness and his training: he contemplated the
+courtesy of one, and another’s assiduity in prayer; another’s freedom
+from anger; another’s love of mankind: he took heed to one as he watched;
+to another as he studied: one he admired for his endurance, another for
+his fasting and sleeping on the ground; he laid to heart the meekness of
+one, and the long-suffering of another; and stamped upon his memory the
+devotion to Christ and the mutual love which all in common possessed.
+And thus filled full, he returned to his own place of training, gathering
+to himself what he had got from each, and striving to show all their
+qualities in himself.  He never emulated those of his own age, save in
+what is best; and did that so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice
+over him.  And all in the village who loved good, seeing him thus, called
+him the friend of God; and some embraced him as a son, some as a brother.
+
+                      [Picture: Life of St. Anthony]
+
+But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure such
+a purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all that he is wont to
+do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care for his sister,
+relation to his kindred, love of money, love of glory, the various
+pleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of life; and then the
+harshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the weakness of his body,
+and the length of time; and altogether raised a great dust-cloud of
+arguments in his mind, trying to turn him back from his righteous choice.
+But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony’s determination,
+but rather baffled by his stoutness, and overthrown by his great faith,
+and falling before his continual prayers, then he attacked him with the
+temptations which he is wont to use against young men; . . . . but he
+protected his body with faith, prayers, and fastings, . . . setting his
+thoughts on Christ, and on his own nobility through Christ, and on the
+rational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on the terrors of the
+fire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus escaped unhurt.  And
+thus was the enemy brought to shame.  For he who thought himself to be
+equal with God was now mocked by a youth; and he who boasted against
+flesh and blood was defeated by a man clothed in flesh.  For the Lord
+worked with him, who bore flesh on our account, and gave to the body
+victory over the devil, that each man in his battle may say, “Not I, but
+the grace of God which is with me.”  At last, when the dragon could not
+overthrow Antony even thus, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then
+gnashing his teeth (as is written), and as if beside himself, he appeared
+to the sight, as he is to the reason, as a black child, and as it were
+falling down before him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver
+was cast out), but using a human voice, said, “I have deceived many; I
+have cast down many.  But now, as in the case of many, so in thine, I
+have been worsted in the battle.”  Then when Antony asked him, “Who art
+thou who speakest thus to me?” he forthwith replied in a pitiable voice,
+“I am the spirit of impurity.”. . .
+
+Then Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said, “Thou art
+utterly despicable; for thou art black of soul, and weak as a child; nor
+shall I henceforth cast one thought on thee.  For the Lord is my helper,
+and I shall despise my enemies.”  That black being, hearing this, fled
+forthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid thenceforth of coming near
+the man.
+
+This was Antony’s first struggle against the devil: or rather this mighty
+deed in him was the Saviour’s, who condemned sin in the flesh that the
+righteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in us, who walk not after
+the flesh, but after the Spirit.  But neither did Antony, because the
+dæmon had fallen, grow careless and despise him; neither did the enemy,
+when worsted by him, cease from lying in ambush against him.  For he came
+round again as a lion, seeking a pretence against him.  But Antony had
+learnt from Scripture that many are the devices of the enemy; and
+continually kept up his training, considering that, though he had not
+deceived his heart by pleasure, he would try some other snares.  For the
+dæmon delights in sin.  Therefore he chastised his body more and more,
+and brought it into slavery, lest, having conquered in one case, he
+should be tripped up in others.  He determined, therefore, to accustom
+himself to a still more severe life; and many wondered at him: but the
+labour was to him easy to bear.  For the readiness of the spirit, through
+long usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking a very
+slight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.  For he
+watched so much, that he often passed the whole night without sleep; and
+that not once, but often, to the astonishment of men.  He ate once a day,
+after the setting of the sun, and sometimes only once in two days, often
+even in four; his food was bread with salt, his drink nothing but water.
+To speak of flesh and wine there is no need, for such a thing is not
+found among other earnest men.  When he slept he was content with a
+rush-mat: but mostly he lay on the bare ground.  He would not anoint
+himself with oil, saying that it was more fit for young men to be earnest
+in training, than to seek things which softened the body; and that they
+must accustom themselves to labour, according to the Apostle’s saying,
+“When I am weak, then I am strong;” for that the mind was strengthened as
+bodily pleasure was weakened.  And this argument of his was truly
+wonderful.  For he did not measure the path of virtue, nor his going away
+into retirement on account of it, by time; but by his own desire and
+will.  So forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning afresh, took
+more pains to improve, saying over to himself continually the Apostle’s
+words, “Forgetting what is behind, stretching forward to what is before;”
+and mindful, too, of Elias’ speech, “The Lord liveth, before whom I stand
+this day.”  For he held, that by mentioning to-day, he took no account of
+past time: but, as if he were laying down a beginning, he tried earnestly
+to make himself day by day fit to appear before God, pure in heart, and
+ready to obey his will, and no other.  And he said in himself that the
+ascetic ought for ever to be learning his own life from the manners of
+the great Elias, as from a mirror.  Antony, having thus, as it were,
+bound himself, went to the tombs, which happened to be some way from the
+village; and having bidden one of his acquaintances to bring him bread at
+intervals of many days, he entered one of the tombs, and, shutting the
+door upon himself, remained there alone.  But the enemy, not enduring
+that, but rather terrified lest in a little while he should fill the
+desert with his training, coming one night with a multitude of dæmons,
+beat him so much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture.
+For he asserted that the pain was so great that no blows given by men
+could cause such agony.  But by the providence of God (for the Lord does
+not overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance came,
+bringing him the loaves.  And having opened the door, and seeing him
+lying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the Lord’s house in the
+village, and laid him on the ground; and many of his kinsfolk and the
+villagers sat round him, as round a corpse.  But about midnight, Antony
+coming to himself, and waking up, saw them all sleeping, and only his
+acquaintance awake, and, nodding to him to approach, begged him to carry
+him back to the tombs, without waking any one.  When that was done, the
+doors were shut, and he remained as before, alone inside.  And, because
+he could not stand on account of the dæmons’ blows, he prayed prostrate.
+And after his prayer, he said with a shout, “Here am I, Antony: I do not
+fly from your stripes; yea, if you do yet more, nothing shall separate me
+from the love of Christ.”  And then he sang, “If an host be laid against
+me, yet shall not my heart be afraid.”  Thus thought and spoke the man
+who was training himself.  But the enemy, hater of what is noble, and
+envious, wondering that he dared to return after the stripes, called
+together his dogs, and bursting with rage,—“Ye see,” he said, “that we
+have not stopped this man by the spirit of impurity; nor by blows: but he
+is even growing bolder against us.  Let us attack him some other way.”
+{41}  For it is easy for the devil to invent schemes of mischief.  So
+then in the night they made such a crash, that the whole place seemed
+shaken, and the dæmons, as if breaking in the four walls of the room,
+seemed to enter through them, changing themselves into the shapes of
+beasts and creeping things; {42} and the place was forthwith filled with
+shapes of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, and snakes, asps, scorpions, and
+wolves, and each of them moved according to his own fashion.  The lion
+roared, longing to attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent did not
+cease creeping, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether the noises
+of all the apparitions were dreadful, and their tempers cruel.  But
+Antony, scourged and pierced by them, felt a more dreadful bodily pain
+than before: but he lay unshaken and awake in spirit.  He groaned at the
+pain of his body: but clear in intellect, and as it were mocking, he
+said, “If there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you
+should come on; but since the Lord has made you weak, therefore you try
+to frighten me by mere numbers.  And a proof of your weakness is, that
+you imitate the shapes of brute animals.”  And taking courage, he said
+again, “If ye can, and have received power against me, delay not, but
+attack; but if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain?  For a seal to us
+and a wall of safety is our faith in the Lord.”  The dæmons, having made
+many efforts, gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked at
+them, than they at him.  But neither then did the Lord forget Antony’s
+wrestling, but appeared to help him.  For, looking up, he saw the roof as
+it were opened and a ray of light coming down towards him.  The dæmons
+suddenly became invisible, and the pain of his body forthwith ceased, and
+the building became quite whole.  But Antony, feeling the succour, and
+getting his breath again, and freed from pain, questioned the vision
+which appeared, saying, “Where wert thou?  Why didst thou not appear to
+me from the first, to stop my pangs?”  And a voice came to him, “Antony,
+I was here, but I waited to see thy fight.  Therefore, since thou hast
+withstood, and not been worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and
+will make thee become famous everywhere.”  Hearing this, he rose and
+prayed, and was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his
+body than he had before.  He was then about thirty-and-five years old.
+And on the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to
+God; and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with him
+in the desert.  But when he declined, because of his age, and because no
+such custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set off to the
+mountain.  But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness, and wishing to
+hinder it, cast in his way the phantom of a great silver plate.  But
+Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates what is noble, stopped.
+And he judged the plate worthless, seeing the devil in it; and said,
+“Whence comes a plate in the desert?  This is no beaten way, nor is there
+here the footstep of any traveller.  Had it fallen, it could not have
+been unperceived, from its great size; and besides, he who lost it would
+have turned back and found it, because the place is desert.  This is a
+trick of the devil.  Thou shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by
+this: let it go with thee into perdition.”  And as Antony said that, it
+vanished, as smoke from before the face of the fire.  Then again he saw,
+not this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he came up.
+But whether the enemy showed it him, or whether some better power, which
+was trying the athlete, and showing the devil that he did not care for
+real wealth; neither did he tell, nor do we know, save that it was real
+gold.  Antony, wondering at the abundance of it, so stepped over it as
+over fire, and so passed it by, that he never turned, but ran on in
+haste, until he had lost sight of the place.  And growing even more and
+more intense in his determination, he rushed up the mountain, and finding
+an empty inclosure full of creeping things on account of its age, he
+betook himself across the river, and dwelt in it.  The creeping things,
+as if pursued by some one, straightway left the place: but he blocked up
+the entry, having taken with him loaves for six months (for the Thebans
+do this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and having water with
+him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that monastery, {44} he remained
+alone, never going forth, and never looking at any one who came.  Thus he
+passed a long time there training himself, and only twice a year received
+loaves, let down from above through the roof.  But those of his
+acquaintance who came to him, as they often remained days and nights
+outside (for he did not allow any one to enter), used to hear as it were
+crowds inside clamouring, thundering, lamenting, crying—“Depart from our
+ground.  What dost thou even in the desert?  Thou canst not abide our
+onset.”  At first those without thought that there were some men fighting
+with him, and that they had got in by ladders: but when, peeping in
+through a crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that they
+were dæmons, and being terrified, called themselves on Antony.  But he
+rather listened to them than cared for the others.  For his acquaintances
+came up continually, expecting to find him dead, and heard him singing,
+“Let the Lord arise, and his enemies shall be scattered; and let them who
+hate him flee before him.  As wax melts from before the face of the fire,
+so shall sinners perish from before the face of God.”  And again, “All
+nations compassed me round about, and in the name of the Lord I repelled
+them.”  He endured then for twenty years, thus training himself alone;
+neither going forth, nor seen by any one for long periods of time.  But
+after this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his training,
+and others who knew him came, and were bursting in the door by force,
+Antony came forth as from some inner shrine, initiated into the
+mysteries, and bearing the God. {45}  And then first he appeared out of
+the inclosure to those who were coming to him.  And when they saw him
+they wondered; for his body had kept the same habit, and had neither
+grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by fighting with the dæmons.
+For he was just such as they had known him before his retirement.  They
+wondered again at the purity of his soul, because it was neither
+contracted as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor possessed by
+laughter or by depression; for he was neither troubled at beholding the
+crowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted by too many; but was altogether
+equal, as being governed by reason, and standing on that which is
+according to nature.  Many sufferers in body who were present did the
+Lord heal by him; and others he purged from dæmons.  And he gave to
+Antony grace in speaking, so that he comforted many who grieved, and
+reconciled others who were at variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing
+in the world to the love of Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to
+be mindful of the good things to come, and of the love of God towards us,
+who spared not his own son, but delivered him up for us all.  He
+persuaded many to choose the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells
+sprang up in the mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who
+went forth from their own, and registered themselves in the city which is
+in heaven.
+
+And when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the need was the
+superintendence of the brethren), the canal was full of crocodiles.  And
+having only prayed, he entered it; and both he and all who were with him
+went through it unharmed.  But when he returned to the cell, he persisted
+in the noble labours of his youth; and by continued exhortations he
+increased the willingness of those who were already monks, and stirred to
+love of training the greater number of the rest; and quickly, as his
+speech drew men on, the cells became more numerous; and he governed them
+all as a father.  And when he had gone forth one day, and all the monks
+had come to him desiring to hear some word from him, he spake to them in
+the Egyptian tongue, thus—“That the Scriptures were sufficient for
+instruction, but that it was good for us to exhort each other in the
+faith.” . . .
+
+[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the
+earliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science dæmonology and the
+temptation of dæmons: but its involved and rhetorical form proves
+sufficiently that it could not have been delivered by an unlettered man
+like Antony.  Neither is it, probably, even composed by St. Athanasius;
+it seems rather, like several other passages in this biography, the
+interpolation of some later scribe.  It has been, therefore, omitted.]
+
+And when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the love of
+virtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up, and in others
+conceit stopped, while all were persuaded to despise the plots of the
+devil, wondering at the grace which had been given to Antony by the Lord
+for the discernment of spirits.  So the cells in the mountains were like
+tents filled with divine choirs, singing, discoursing, fasting, praying,
+rejoicing over the hope of the future, working that they might give alms
+thereof, and having love and concord with each other.  And there was
+really to be seen, as it were, a land by itself, of piety and justice;
+for there was none there who did wrong, or suffered wrong: no blame from
+any talebearer: but a multitude of men training themselves, and in all of
+them a mind set on virtue.  So that any one seeing the cells, and such an
+array of monks, would have cried out, and said, “How fair are thy
+dwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel; like shady groves and like
+parks beside a river, and like tents which the Lord hath pitched, and
+like cedars by the waters.”  He himself, meanwhile, withdrawing,
+according to his custom, alone to his own cell, increased the severity of
+his training.  And he groaned daily, considering the mansions in heaven,
+and setting his longing on them, and looking at the ephemeral life of
+man.  For even when he was going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he
+considered the rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was
+about to eat with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and
+declined, and went far away from them; thinking that he should blush if
+he was seen by others eating.  He ate, nevertheless, by himself, on
+account of the necessities of the body; and often, too, with the
+brethren, being bashful with regard to them, but plucking up heart for
+the sake of saying something that might be useful; and used to tell them
+that they ought to give all their leisure rather to the soul than to the
+body; and that they should grant a very little time to the body, for mere
+necessity’s sake: but that their whole leisure should be rather given to
+the soul, and should seek her profit, that she may not be drawn down by
+the pleasures of the body, but rather the body be led captive by her.
+For this (he said) was what was spoken by the Saviour, “Be not anxious
+for your soul, what ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall put
+on.  And seek not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither let
+your minds be in suspense: for after all these things the nations of the
+world seek: but your Father knoweth that ye need all these things.
+Rather seek first his kingdom; and all these things shall be added unto
+you.”
+
+After these things, the persecution which happened under the Maximinus of
+that time, {49} laid hold of the Church; and when the holy martyrs were
+brought to Alexandria, Antony too followed, leaving his cell, and saying,
+“Let us depart too, that we may wrestle if we be called, or see them
+wrestling.”  And he longed to be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to
+give himself up, he ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the
+prisons.  And he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the
+readiness of those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and
+bring on their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to
+martyrdom.  At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and earnestness of
+him and those who were with him, commanded that none of the monks should
+appear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in the city.  So all the
+rest thought good to hide themselves that day; but Antony cared so much
+for the order, that he all the rather washed his cloak, and stood next
+day upon a high place, and appeared to the General in shining white.
+Therefore, when all the rest wondered, and the General saw him, and
+passed by with his array, he stood fearless, showing forth the readiness
+of us Christians.  For he himself prayed to be a martyr, as I have said,
+and was like one grieved, because he had not borne his witness.  But the
+Lord was preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he
+might become a teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from
+Scripture.  For many, when they only saw his manner of life, were eager
+to emulate it.  So he again ministered continually to the confessors;
+and, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his services.  And when at
+last the persecution ceased, and the blessed Bishop Peter had been
+martyred, he left the city, and went back to his cell.  And he was there,
+day by day, a martyr in his conscience, and wrestling in the conflict of
+faith; for he imposed on himself a much more severe training than before;
+and his garment was within of hair, without of skin, which he kept till
+his end.  He neither washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his
+feet, nor actually endured putting them into water unless it were
+necessary.  And no one ever saw him unclothed till he was dead and about
+to be buried.
+
+When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth himself, nor
+to receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of soldiers, came and gave
+trouble to Antony.  For he had with him his daughter, who was tormented
+by a dæmon.  And while he remained a long time knocking at the door, and
+expecting him to come to pray to God for the child, Antony could not bear
+to open, but leaning from above, said, “Man, why criest thou to me?  I,
+too, am a man, as thou art.  But if thou believest, pray to God, and it
+comes to pass.”  Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ;
+and went away, with his daughter cleansed from the dæmon.  And many other
+things the Lord did by him, saying, “Ask, and it shall be given you.”
+For most of the sufferers, when he did not open the door, only sat down
+outside the cell, and believing, and praying honestly, were cleansed.
+But when he saw himself troubled by many, and not being permitted to
+retire, as he wished, being afraid lest he himself should be puffed up by
+what the Lord was doing by him, or lest others should count of him above
+what he was, he resolved to go to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew
+him not.  And, in fact, having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat
+down on the bank of the river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might
+embark and go up in it.  And as he watched, a voice came to him: “Antony,
+whither art thou going, and why?”  And he, not terrified, but as one
+accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it, “Because
+the crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I minded to go up to
+the Upper Thebaid, on account of the many annoyances which befall me;
+and, above all, because they ask of me things beyond my strength.”  And
+the voice said to him, “Even if thou goest up to the Thebaid, even if, as
+thou art minded to do, thou goest down the cattle pastures, {52a} thou
+wilt have to endure more, and double trouble; but if thou wilt really be
+at rest, go now into the inner desert.”  And when Antony said, “Who will
+show me the way, for I have not tried it?” forthwith it showed him
+Saracens who were going to journey that road.  So, going to them, and
+drawing near them, Antony asked leave to depart with them into the
+desert.  But they, as if by an ordinance of Providence, willingly
+received him; and, journeying three days and three nights with them, he
+came to a very high mountain; {52b} and there was water under the
+mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold; and a plain outside; and a few
+neglected date-palms.  Then Antony, as if stirred by God, loved the spot;
+for this it was what he had pointed out who spoke to him beside the river
+bank.  At first, then, having received bread from those who journeyed
+with him, he remained alone in the mount, no one else being with him.
+For he recognised that place as his own home, and kept it thenceforth.
+And the Saracens themselves, seeing Antony’s readiness, came that way on
+purpose, and joyfully brought him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of
+the dates, which was then little and paltry.  But after this, the
+brethren, having found out the spot, like children remembering their
+father, were anxious to send things to him; but Antony saw that, in
+bringing him bread, some there were put to trouble and fatigue; and,
+sparing the monks even in that, took counsel with himself, and asked some
+who came to him to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and
+when these were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he
+found a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having
+plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by year,
+he got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be troublesome to
+no one on that account, and that he was keeping himself free from
+obligation in all things.  But after this, seeing again some people
+coming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that he who came might have
+some small solace after the labour of that hard journey.  At first,
+however, the wild beasts in the desert, coming on account of the water,
+often hurt his crops and his tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one
+of them, said to them all, “Why do you hurt me, who have not hurt you?
+Depart, and, in the name of the Lord, never come near this place.”  And
+from that time forward, as if they were afraid of his command, they never
+came near the place.  So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having
+leisure for prayer and for training.  But the brethren who ministered to
+him asked him that, coming every month, they might bring him olives, and
+pulse, and oil; for, after all, he was old.  And while he had his
+conversation there, what great wrestlings he endured, according to that
+which is written, “Not against flesh and blood, but against the dæmons
+who are our adversaries,” we have known from those who went in to him.
+For there also they heard tumults, and many voices, and clashing as of
+arms; and they beheld the mount by night full of wild beasts, and they
+looked on him, too, fighting, as it were, with beings whom he saw, and
+praying against them.  And those who came to him he bade be of good
+courage, but he himself wrestled, bending his knees, and praying to the
+Lord.  And it was truly worthy of wonder that, alone in such a desert, he
+was neither cowed by the dæmons who beset him, nor, while there were
+there so many four-footed and creeping beasts, was at all afraid of their
+fierceness: but, as is written, trusted in the Lord like the Mount Zion,
+having his reason unshaken and untost; so that the dæmons rather fled,
+and the wild beasts, as is written, were at peace with him.
+
+Nevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and gnashed upon
+him with his teeth.  But Antony was comforted by the Saviour, remaining
+unhurt by his craft and manifold artifices.  For on him, when he was
+awake at night, he let loose wild beasts; and almost all the hyænas in
+that desert, coming out of their burrows, beset him round, and he was in
+the midst.  And when each gaped on him and threatened to bite him,
+perceiving the art of the enemy, he said to them all, “If ye have
+received power against me, I am ready to be devoured by you: but if ye
+have been set on by dæmons, delay not, but withdraw, for I am a servant
+of Christ.”  When Antony said this, they fled, pursued by his words as by
+a whip.  Next after a few days, as he was working—for he took care, too,
+to labour—some one standing at the door pulled the plait that he was
+working.  For he was weaving baskets, which he used to give to those who
+came, in return for what they brought him.  And rising up, he saw a
+beast, like a man down to his thighs, but having legs and feet like an
+ass; and Antony only crossed himself and said, “I am a servant of Christ.
+If thou hast been sent against me, behold, here I am.”  And the beast
+with its dæmons fled away, so that in its haste it fell and died.  Now
+the death of the beast was the fall of the dæmons.  For they were eager
+to do everything to bring him back out of the desert, but could not
+prevail.
+
+And being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit
+awhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came to
+meet him.  And a camel carried their loaves and their water; for that
+desert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water unless in that
+mountain alone whence they drew their water, and where his cell is.  But
+when the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most intense, they
+all began to be in danger; for going round to various places, and finding
+no water, they could walk no more, but lay down on the ground, and they
+let the camel go, and gave themselves up.  But the old man, seeing them
+all in danger, was utterly grieved, and groaned; and departing a little
+way from them, and bending his knees and stretching out his hands, he
+prayed, and forthwith the Lord caused water to come out where he had
+stopped and prayed.  And thus all of them drinking took breath again; and
+having filled their skins, they sought the camel, and found her; for it
+befell that the halter had been twisted round a stone, and thus she had
+been stopped.  So, having brought her back, and given her to drink, they
+put the skins on her, and went through their journey unharmed.  And when
+they came to the outer cells all embraced him, looking on him as a
+father.  And he, as if he brought them guest-gifts from the mountain,
+gave them away to them in his words, and shared his benefits among them.
+And there was joy again in the mountains, and zeal for improvement, and
+comfort through their faith in each other.  And he too rejoiced, seeing
+the willingness of the monks, and his sister grown old in maidenhood, and
+herself the leader of other virgins.  And so after certain days he went
+back again to the mountain.
+
+And after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared also to
+come.  Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually this
+command: To trust in the Lord and love him, and to keep themselves from
+foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and, as is written in the Parables,
+not to be deceived by fulness of bread; and to avoid vainglory; and to
+pray continually; and to sing before sleep and after sleep; and to lay by
+in their hearts the commandment of Scripture; and to remember the works
+of the saints, in order to have their souls attuned to emulate them.  But
+especially he counselled them to meditate continually on the Apostle’s
+saying, “Let not the sun go down upon your wrath;” and this he said was
+spoken of all commandments in common, in order that not on wrath alone,
+but on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it was noble
+and necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a baseness by day,
+nor the moon for a sin or even a thought by night; therefore, in order
+that that which is noble may be preserved in us, it was good to hear and
+to keep what the Apostle commanded: for he said: “Judge yourselves, and
+prove yourselves.”  Let each then take account with himself, day by day,
+of his daily and nightly deeds; and if he has not sinned, let him not
+boast, but let him endure in what is good and not be negligent, neither
+condemn his neighbour, neither justify himself, as said the blessed
+Apostle Paul, until the Lord comes who searches secret things.  For we
+often deceive ourselves in what we do, and we indeed know not: but the
+Lord comprehends all.  Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us
+sympathise with each other; and let us bear each other’s burdens, and
+examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to fill up.
+And let this, too, be my counsel for safety against sinning.  Let us each
+note and write down the deeds and motions of the soul as if he were about
+to relate them to each other; and be confident that, as we shall be
+utterly ashamed that they should be known, we shall cease from sinning,
+and even from desiring anything mean.  For who when he sins wishes to be
+harmed thereby?  Or who, having sinned, does not rather lie, wishing to
+hide it?  As therefore when in each other’s sight we dare not commit a
+crime, so if we write down our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we
+shall keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they
+should be known. . . .  And thus forming ourselves we shall be able to
+bring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on the one hand, and on
+the other trample on the snares of the enemy.”  This was his exhortation
+to those who met him: but with those who suffered he suffered, and prayed
+with them.  And often and in many things the Lord heard him; and neither
+when he was heard did he boast; nor when he was not heard did he murmur:
+but, remaining always the same, gave thanks to the Lord.  And those who
+suffered he exhorted to keep up heart, and to know that the power of cure
+was none of his, nor of any man’s; but only belonged to God, who works
+when and whatsoever he chooses.  So the sufferers received this as a
+remedy, learning not to despise the old man’s words, but rather to keep
+up heart; and those who were cured learned not to bless Antony, but God
+alone.
+
+For instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace, and had a
+grievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and tried to injure his
+eyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony to pray for him.  And when
+he had prayed he said to Fronto, “Depart, and be healed.”  And when he
+resisted, and remained within some days, Antony continued saying, “Thou
+canst not be healed if thou remainest here; go forth, and as soon as thou
+enterest Egypt, thou shalt see the sign which shall befall thee.”  He,
+believing, went forth; and as soon as he only saw Egypt he was freed from
+his disease, and became sound according to the word of Antony, which he
+had learnt by prayer from the Saviour . . .
+
+[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint: which need
+not be translated.]
+
+But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on the
+journey, one of them died, and the other was about to die.  In fact,
+being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground expecting death.
+But Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two monks who happened to
+be there, and hastened them, saying, “Take a pitcher of water, and run on
+the road towards Egypt; for of two who are coming hither one has just
+expired, and the other will do so if you do not hasten.  For this has
+been showed to me as I prayed.”  So the monks going found the one lying
+dead, and buried him; and the other they recovered with the water, and
+brought him to the old man.  Now the distance was a day’s journey.  But
+if any one should ask why he did not speak before one of them expired, he
+does not question rightly; for the judgment of that death did not belong
+to Antony, but to God, who both judged concerning the one; and revealed
+concerning the other.  But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that
+sitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord showed
+him things afar off.
+
+For once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he saw some one
+carried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who met him.  Then
+wondering, and blessing such a choir, he prayed to be taught what that
+might be; and straightway a voice came to him that this was the soul of
+Ammon, the monk in Nitria, {60} who had persevered as an ascetic to his
+old age; and the distance from Nitria to the mountain where Antony was,
+is thirteen days’ journey.  Those then who were with Antony, seeing the
+old man wondering, asked the reason, and heard that Ammon had just
+expired, for he was known to them on account of his having frequently
+come thither, and many signs having been worked by him, of which this is
+one. . . .
+
+[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of Ammon’s being
+miraculously carried across the river Lycus, because he was ashamed to
+undress himself.]
+
+But the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon’s death noted down the
+day; and when brethren came from Nitria after thirty days, they inquired
+and learnt that Ammon had fallen asleep at the day and hour in which the
+old man saw his soul carried aloft.  And all on both sides wondered at
+the purity of Antony’s soul; how he had learnt and seen instantly what
+had happened thirteen days’ journey off.
+
+Moreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer mountain
+praying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that wonderful and
+Christ-bearing maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered dreadful internal
+pain from her extreme training, and was altogether weak in body.  Antony,
+therefore, prayed; and the Count noted down the day on which the prayer
+was offered.  And going back to Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and
+asking when and on what day her malady had ceased, he brought out the
+paper on which he had written down the date of the prayer.  And when she
+told him, he showed at once the writing on the paper.  And all found that
+the Lord had stopped her sufferings while Antony was still praying and
+calling for her on the goodness of the Saviour.
+
+And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days, or
+even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming.  For some
+came only to see him, and others on account of sickness, and others
+because they suffered from dæmons, and all thought the labour of the
+journey no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware that he had been
+benefited.  And when he spoke and looked thus, he asked no one to marvel
+at him on that account, but to marvel rather at the Lord, because he had
+given us, who are but men, grace to know him according to our powers.
+And as he was going down again to the outer cells, and was minded to
+enter a boat and pray with the monks, he alone perceived a dreadfully
+evil odour, and when those in the boat told him that they had fish and
+brine on board, and that it was they which smelt, he said that it was a
+different smell; and while he was yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil
+spirit, had gone before them and hidden in the boat, suddenly cried out.
+But the dæmon, being rebuked in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, went
+out of him, and the man became whole, and all knew that the smell had
+come from the evil spirit.  And there was another man of high rank who
+came to him, having a dæmon, and one so terrible, that the possessed man
+did not know that he was going to Antony, but [showed the common symptoms
+of mania].  Those who brought him entreated Antony to pray over him,
+which he did, feeling for the young man, and he watched beside him all
+night.  But about dawn, the young man, suddenly rushing on Antony,
+assaulted him.  When those who came with him were indignant, Antony said,
+“Be not hard upon the youth, for it is not he, but the dæmon in him; and
+because he has been rebuked, and commanded to go forth into dry places,
+he has become furious, and done this.  Glorify, therefore, the Lord for
+his having thus rushed upon me, as a sign to you that the dæmon is going
+out.”  And as Antony said this, the youth suddenly became sound, and,
+recovering his reason, knew where he was, and embraced the old man,
+giving thanks to God.  And most of the monks agree unanimously that many
+like things were done by him: yet are they not so wonderful as what
+follows.  For once, when he was going to eat, and rose up to pray about
+the ninth hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and (wonderful to relate)
+as he stood he saw himself as it were taken out of himself, and led into
+the air by some persons; and then others, bitter and terrible, standing
+in the air, and trying to prevent his passing upwards.  And when those
+who led him fought against them, they demanded whether he was not
+accountable to them.  And when they began to take account of his deeds
+from his birth, his guides stopped them, saying, “What happened from his
+birth upwards, the Lord hath wiped out: but of what has happened since he
+became a monk, and made a promise to God, of that you may demand an
+account.”  Then, when they brought accusations against him, and could not
+prove them, the road was opened freely to him.  And straightway he saw
+himself as if coming back and standing before himself, and was Antony
+once more.  Then, forgetting that he had not eaten, he remained the rest
+of the day and all night groaning and praying, for he wondered when he
+saw against how many enemies we must wrestle, and through how many
+labours a man must traverse the air; and he remembered that it is this
+which the Apostle means with regard to the Prince of the power of the
+air; for it is in the air that the enemy has his power, fighting against
+those who pass through it, and trying to hinder them.  Wherefore, also he
+especially exhorts us: “Take the whole armour of God, that the enemy,
+having no evil to say about us, may be ashamed.”  But when we heard this,
+we remembered the Apostle’s saying, “Whether in the body I cannot tell,
+or out of the body I cannot tell: God knoweth.”  But Paul was caught up
+into the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable words, descended
+again; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and wrestling till he
+seemed to be free.
+
+Again, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the mountain,
+if at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was revealed to him
+by Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man was, as Scripture says,
+taught of God.  After this, at all events, when he had been talking with
+some who came to him concerning the departure of the soul, and what would
+be its place after this life, the next night some one called him from
+without, and said, “Rise up, Antony; come out and see.”  So coming out
+(for he knew whom he ought to obey), he beheld a tall being, shapeless
+and terrible, standing and reaching to the clouds, and as it were winged
+beings ascending; and him stretching out his hands; and some of them
+hindered by him, and others flying above him, and when they had once
+passed him, borne upwards without trouble.  But against them that tall
+being gnashed his teeth, while over those who fell, he rejoiced.  And
+there came a voice to Antony, “Consider what thou seest.”  And when his
+understanding was opened, he perceived that it was the enemy who envies
+the faithful, and that those who were in his power he mastered and
+hindered from passing; but that those who had not obeyed him, over them,
+as over conquerors, he had no power.  Having seen this, and as it were
+made mindful by it, he struggled more and more daily to improve.  Now
+these things he did not tell of his own accord; but when he was long in
+prayer, and astonished in himself, those who were with him questioned him
+and urged him; and he was forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide
+anything from his children; and considering, too, that his own conscience
+was clear, and the story would be profitable for them, when they learned
+that the life of training bore good fruit, and that visions often came as
+a solace of their toils.
+
+But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit; for though he
+was so great, he both honoured exceedingly the canon of the Church, and
+wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in honour.  For to the
+bishops and presbyters he was not ashamed to bow his head; and if a
+deacon ever came to him for the sake of profit, he discoursed with him on
+what was profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him, not being
+ashamed even himself to learn from him. {65}  For he often asked
+questions, and deigned to listen to all present, confessing that he was
+profited if any one said aught that was useful.  Moreover, his
+countenance had great and wonderful grace; and this gift too he had from
+the Saviour.  For if he was present among the multitude of monks, and any
+one who did not previously know him wished to see him, as soon as he came
+he passed by all the rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by
+his eyes.  He did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness,
+but in the steadiness of his temper, and purity of his soul; for as his
+soul was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so
+that the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful, and from the
+movements of his body the stedfastness of his soul could be perceived,
+according to the Scripture, “When the heart is cheerful the countenance
+is glad; but when sorrow comes it scowleth.” . . . And he was altogether
+wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never communicated with the
+Meletian {66a} schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the
+beginning; nor did he converse amicably with Manichæans or any other
+heretics, save only to exhort them to be converted to piety.  For he held
+that their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to the soul.  So
+also he detested the heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to
+approach them, nor hold their misbelief. {66b}  In fact, when certain of
+the Ariomanites came to him, having discerned them and found them
+impious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying that their words were
+worse than serpent’s poison; and when the Arians once pretended that he
+was of the same opinion as they, he was indignant and fierce against
+them.  Then being sent for by the bishops and all the brethren, he went
+down from the mountain, and entering Alexandria he denounced the Arians,
+saying, that that was the last heresy, and the forerunner of Antichrist;
+and he taught the people that the Son of God was not a created thing,
+neither made from nought, but that he is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of
+the Essence of the Father; wherefore also it is impious to say there was
+a time when he was not, for he was always the Word co-existent with the
+Father.  Wherefore he said, “Do not have any communication with these
+most impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and
+darkness.  For you are pious Christians: but they, when they say that the
+Son of God and the Word, who is from the Father, is a created being,
+differ nought from the heathen, because they worship the creature instead
+of God the Creator. {67}  Believe rather that the whole creation itself
+is indignant against them, because they number the Creator and Lord of
+all, in whom all things are made, among created things.”  All the people
+therefore rejoiced at hearing that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized
+by such a man; and all those in the city ran together to see Antony and
+the Greeks, {68a} and those who are called their priests {68b} came into
+the church, wishing to see the man of God; for all called him by that
+name, because there the Lord cleansed many by him from dæmons, and healed
+those who were out of their mind.  And many heathens wished only to touch
+the old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in fact as
+many became Christians in those few days, as would have been usually
+converted in a year.  And when some thought that the crowd troubled him,
+and therefore turned all away from him, he quietly said that they were
+not more numerous than the fiends with whom he wrestled on the mountain.
+But when he left the city, and we were setting him on his journey, when
+we came to the gate a certain woman called to him: “Wait, man of God, my
+daughter is grievously vexed with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I
+too harm myself with running after thee.”  The old man hearing it, and
+being asked by us, waited willingly.  But when the woman drew near, the
+child dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on
+the name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out;
+and the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself
+rejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.
+
+Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never
+learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.  Once, for
+example, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they could
+tempt Antony.  And he was in the outer mountain; and when he went out to
+them, understanding the men from their countenances, he said through an
+interpreter, “Why have you troubled yourselves so much, philosophers, to
+come to a foolish man?”  And when they answered that he was not foolish,
+but rather very wise, he said, “If you have come to a fool, your labour
+is superfluous, but if ye think me to be wise, become as I am; for we
+ought to copy what is good, and if I had come to you, I should have
+copied you; but if you come to me, copy me, for I am a Christian.”  And
+they wondering went their way, for they saw that even dæmons were afraid
+of Antony.
+
+And again when others of the same class met him in the outer mountain,
+and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt letters, Antony
+answered, “But what do you say? which is first, the sense or the letters?
+And which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the
+letters of the sense?”  And when they said that the sense came first, and
+invented the letters, Antony replied, “If then the sense be sound, the
+letters are not needed.”  Which struck them, and those present, with
+astonishment.  So they went away wondering, when they saw so much
+understanding in an unlearned man.  For though he had lived and grown old
+in the mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and urbane;
+and his speech was seasoned with the divine salt, so that no man grudged
+at him, but rather rejoiced over him, as many as came. . . .
+
+[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attributed to
+St. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity: the only point about
+it which is worthy of note is that Antony confutes the philosophers by
+challenging them to cure some possessed persons, and, when they are
+unable to do so, casts out the dæmons himself by the sign of the cross.]
+
+The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus the Augustus,
+and his sons, Constantius and Constans, the Augusti, hearing of these
+things, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to receive an answer from
+him.  But he did not make much of the letters, nor was puffed up by their
+messages; and he was just the same as he was before the kings wrote to
+him.  And he called his monks and said, “Wonder not if a king writes to
+us, for he is but a man: but wonder rather that God has written his law
+to man, and spoken to us by his own Son.”  So he declined to receive
+their letters, saying he did not know how to write an answer to such
+things; but being admonished by the monks that the kings were Christians,
+and that they must not be scandalized by being despised, he permitted the
+letters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting them because they
+worshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their salvation, not to
+think the present life great, but rather to remember judgment to come;
+and to know that Christ was the only true and eternal king; and he begged
+them to be merciful to men, and to think of justice and the poor.  And
+they, when they received the answer, rejoiced.  Thus was he kindly
+towards all, and all looked on him as their father.  He then betook
+himself again into the inner mountain, and continued his accustomed
+training.  But often, when he was sitting and walking with those who came
+unto him, he was astounded, as is written in Daniel.  And after the space
+of an hour, he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with him,
+and they perceived that he had seen some vision.  Often he saw in the
+mountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion the bishop,
+who saw him occupied with a vision.  Once, for instance, as he sat, he
+fell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what he saw.  Then,
+after an hour, turning to those who were with him, he groaned and fell
+into a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and bending his knees, remained
+so a long while; and then the old man rose up and wept.  The bystanders,
+therefore, trembling and altogether terrified, asked him to tell them
+what had happened, and tormented him much, that he was forced to speak.
+And he groaning greatly—“Ah! my children,” he said, “it were better to be
+dead before what I have seen shall come to pass.”  And when they asked
+him again, he said with tears, that “Wrath will seize on the Church, and
+she will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no
+understanding; for I saw the table of the Lord’s house, and mules
+standing all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does when
+it leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for I heard a
+voice saying, ‘My sanctuary shall be defiled.’”
+
+This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the present inroad
+of the Arians, {72a} and the plunder of the churches, when they carried
+off the holy vessels by violence, and made the heathen carry them: and
+when too they forced the heathens from the prisons to join them, and in
+their presence did on the holy table what they would. {72b}  Then we all
+perceived that the kicks of those mules presignified to Antony what the
+Arians are now doing without understanding, like the brutes.  But when
+Antony saw this sight, he exhorted those about him, saying, “Lose not
+heart, children; for as the Lord has been angry, so will he again be
+appeased, and the Church shall soon receive again her own order and shine
+forth as she is wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their
+place, and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious
+faith speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom.  Only defile not
+yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not of the Apostle but
+of the dæmons, and of their father the devil: barren and irrational and
+of an unsound mind, like the irrational deeds of those mules.”  Thus
+spoke Antony.
+
+But we must not doubt whether so great wonders have been done by a man;
+for the Saviour’s promise is, “If ye have faith as a grain of
+mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Pass over from hence, it
+shall pass over, and nothing shall be impossible to you;” and again,
+“Verily, verily, I say unto you, if ye shall ask my Father in my name, he
+shall give it you.  Ask, and ye shall receive.”  And he himself it is who
+said to his disciples and to all who believe in him, “Heal the sick, cast
+out devils; freely ye have received, freely give.”  And certainly Antony
+did not heal by his own authority, but by praying and calling on Christ;
+so that it was plain to all that it was not he who did it, but the Lord,
+who through Antony showed love to men, and healed the sufferers.  But
+Antony’s part was only the prayer and the training, for the sake whereof,
+sitting in the mountain, he rejoiced in the sight of divine things, and
+grieved when he was tormented by many, and dragged to the outer mountain.
+
+For all the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain, because
+it was impossible for them to go in thither to him on account of the
+litigants who followed him; so they begged him to come, that they might
+only behold him.  And when he declined they insisted, and even sent in to
+him prisoners under the charge of soldiers, that at least on their
+account he might come down.  So being forced by necessity, and seeing
+them lamenting, he came to the outer mountain.  And his labour this time
+too was profitable to many, and his coming for their good.  To the
+magistrates, too, he was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to
+all things, and to fear God, and to know that with what judgment they
+judged they should be judged in turn.  But he loved best of all his life
+in the mountain.  Once again, when he was compelled in the same way to
+leave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the soldiers,
+who entreated him earnestly, he came down, and having spoken to them
+somewhat of the things which conduced to salvation, he was pressed also
+by those who were in need.  But being asked by the general to lengthen
+his stay, he refused, and persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying,
+“Fishes, if they lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with
+you lose their strength.  As the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must
+we to the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget what is within.”
+The general, hearing this and much more from him, said with surprise that
+he was truly a servant of God, for whence could an unlearned man have so
+great sense if he were not loved by God?
+
+Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians on
+account of his affection for those abominable Arians.  His cruelty was so
+great that he even beat nuns, and stripped and scourged monks.  Antony
+sent him a letter to this effect:—“I see wrath coming upon thee.  Cease,
+therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay hold upon
+thee, for it is near at hand.”  But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter
+on the ground and spat on it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding
+them tell Antony, “Since thou carest for monks, I will soon come after
+thee likewise.”  And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold
+on him.  For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went
+out to the first station from Alexandria, which is called Chæreas’s.
+Both of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the most
+gentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the place, the horses
+began playing with each other, as is their wont, and suddenly the more
+gentle of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and
+pulled him off with his teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was carried
+back to the city, and died in three days.  And all wondered that what
+Antony had so wonderfully foretold was so quickly fulfilled.  These were
+his warnings to the more cruel.  But the rest who came to him he so
+instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and blessed those
+who had retired from this life.  And those who had been unjustly used he
+so protected that you would think he and not they was the sufferer.  And
+he was so able to be of use to all; so that many who were serving in the
+army, and many wealthy men, laid aside the burdens of life and became
+thenceforth monks; and altogether he was like a physician given by God to
+Egypt.  For who met him grieving, and did not go away rejoicing?  Who
+came mourning over his dead, and did not forthwith lay aside his grief?
+Who came wrathful, and was not converted to friendship?  What poor man
+came wearied out, and when he saw and heard him did not despise wealth
+and comfort himself in his poverty?  What monk who had grown remiss, was
+not strengthened by coming to him?  What young man coming to the mountain
+and looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce pleasure and love
+temperance?  Who came to him tempted by devils, and did not get rest?
+Who came troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind?  For this was
+the great thing in Antony’s asceticism, that (as I have said before),
+having the gift of discerning spirits, he understood their movements, and
+knew in what direction each of them turned his endeavours and his
+attacks.  And not only he was not deceived by them himself, but he taught
+those who were troubled in mind how they might turn aside the plots of
+dæmons, teaching them the weakness and the craft of their enemies.  How
+many maidens, too, who had been already betrothed, and only saw Antony
+from afar, remained unmarried for Christ’s sake!  Some, too, came from
+foreign parts to him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from
+him as from a father.  And now he has fallen asleep, all are as orphans
+who have lost a parent, consoling themselves with his memory alone,
+keeping his instructions and exhortations.  But what the end of his life
+was like, it is fit that I should relate, and you hear eagerly.  For it
+too is worthy of emulation.  He was visiting, according to his wont, the
+monks in the outer mountain, and having learned from Providence
+concerning his own end, he said to the brethren, “This visit to you is my
+last, and I wonder if we shall see each other again in this life.  It is
+time for me to set sail, for I am near a hundred and five years old.”
+And when they heard that they wept, and embraced and kissed the old man.
+And he, as if he was setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke
+joyfully, and exhorted them not to grow idle in their labours or cowardly
+in their training, but to live as those who died daily, and (as I said
+before) to be earnest in keeping their souls from foul thoughts, and to
+emulate the saints, and not to draw near the Meletian schismatics, for
+“ye know their evil and profane determinations, nor to have any communion
+with the Arians, for their impiety also is manifest to all.  Neither if
+ye shall see the magistrates patronising them, be troubled, for their
+phantasy shall have an end, and is mortal and only for a little while.
+Keep yourselves therefore rather clean from them, and hold that which has
+been handed down to you by the fathers, and especially the faith in our
+Lord Jesus Christ which ye have learned from Scripture, and of which ye
+have often been reminded by me.”  And when the brethren tried to force
+him to stay with them and make his end there, he would not endure it, on
+many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially on this:—The
+Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of good persons, and
+especially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them underground, but to
+lay them upon benches and keep them in their houses; {77} thinking that
+by this they honour the departed.  Now Antony had often asked the bishops
+to exhort the people about this, and in like manner he himself rebuked
+the laity and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing neither
+lawful nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs and
+prophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very body
+of our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it to hide
+it, till he rose the third day.  And thus saying he showed that those
+broke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even if they were
+holy; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord’s body?  Many, then,
+when they heard him, buried thenceforth underground; and blessed the Lord
+that they had been taught rightly.  Being then aware of this, and afraid
+lest they should do the same by his body, he hurried himself, and bade
+farewell to the monks in the outer mountain; and coming to the inner
+mountain, where he was wont to abide, after a few months he grew sick,
+and calling those who were by—and there were two of them who had remained
+there within fifteen years, exercising themselves and ministering to him
+on account of his old age—he said to them, “I indeed go the way of the
+fathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the Lord.”
+. . .
+
+[Then follows a general exhortation to the monk, almost identical with
+much that has gone before, and ending by a command that his body should
+be buried in the ground.]
+
+“And let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall know the
+place, save you alone, for I shall receive it (my body) incorruptible
+from my Saviour in the resurrection of the dead.  And distribute my
+garments thus.  To Athanasius the bishop give one of my sheepskins, and
+the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown old
+by me; and to Serapion the bishop give the other sheepskin; and do you
+have the hair-cloth garment.  And for the rest, children, farewell, for
+Antony is going, and is with you no more.”
+
+Saying thus, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet, and,
+as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their account
+(for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed and was
+gathered to his fathers.  And they forthwith, as he had commanded them,
+preparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one
+knows to this day where it is hidden, save those two servants only.  And
+each (_i.e._ Athanasius and Serapion) having received the sheepskin of
+the blessed Antony, and the cloak which he had worn out, keeps them as a
+great possession.  For he who looks on them, as it were, sees Antony; and
+he who puts them on, wears them with joy, as he does Antony’s counsels.
+
+Such was the end of Antony in the body, and such the beginning of his
+training.  And if these things are small in comparison with his virtue,
+yet reckon up from these things how great was Antony, the man of God, who
+kept unchanged, from his youth up to so great an age, the earnestness of
+his training; and was neither worsted in his old age by the desire of
+more delicate food, nor on account of the weakness of his body altered
+the quality of his garment, nor even washed his feet with water; and yet
+remained uninjured in all his limbs: for his eyes were undimmed and
+whole, so that he saw well; and not one of his teeth had fallen out, but
+they were only worn down to his gums on account of his great age; and he
+remained sound in hand and foot; and, in a word, appeared ruddier and
+more ready for exertion than all who use various meats and baths, and
+different dresses.  But that this man should be celebrated everywhere and
+wondered at by all, and regretted even by those who never saw him, is a
+proof of his virtue, and that his soul was dear to God.  For Antony
+became known not by writings, not from the wisdom that is from without,
+not by any art, but by piety alone; and that this was the gift of God,
+none can deny.  For how as far as Spain, as Gaul, as Rome, as Africa,
+could he have been heard, hidden as he was in a mountain, if it had not
+been for God, who makes known his own men everywhere, and who had
+promised Antony this from the beginning?  For even if they do their deeds
+in secret, and wish to be concealed, yet the Lord shows them as lights to
+all, that so those who hear of them may know that the commandments
+suffice to put men in the right way, and may grow zealous of the path of
+virtue.
+
+Read then these things to the other brethren, that they may learn what
+the life of monks should be, and may believe that the Lord Jesus Christ
+our Saviour will glorify those who glorify him, and that those who serve
+him to the end he will not only bring to the kingdom of heaven, but that
+even if on earth they hide themselves and strive to get out of the way,
+he will make them manifest and celebrated everywhere, for the sake of
+their own virtue, and for the benefit of others.  But if need be, read
+this also to the heathens, that even thus they may learn that our Lord
+Jesus Christ is not only Lord and the Son of God, but that those who
+truly serve him, and believe piously on him, not only prove that those
+dæmons whom the Greeks think are gods to be no gods, but even tread them
+under foot, and chase them out as deceivers and corrupters of men,
+through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory and honour for ever and
+ever.  Amen.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Thus ends this strange story.  What we are to think of the miracles and
+wonders contained in it, will be discussed at a later point in this book.
+Meanwhile there is a stranger story still connected with the life of St.
+Antony.  It professes to have been told by him himself to his monks; and
+whatever groundwork of fact there may be in it is doubtless his.  The
+form in which we have it was given it by the famous St. Jerome, who sends
+the tale as a letter to Asella, one of the many noble Roman ladies whom
+he persuaded to embrace the monastic life.  The style is as well worth
+preserving as the matter.  Its ruggedness and awkwardness, its ambition
+and affectation, contrasted with the graceful simplicity of Athanasius’s
+“Life of Antony,” mark well the difference between the cultivated Greek
+and the ungraceful and half-barbarous Roman of the later Empire.  I have,
+therefore, given it as literally as possible, that readers may judge for
+themselves how some of the Great Fathers of the fifth century wrote, and
+what they believed.
+
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT
+BY THE DIVINE HIERONYMUS THE PRIEST.
+(ST. JEROME.)
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+MANY have often doubted by which of the monks the desert was first
+inhabited.  For some, looking for the beginnings of Monachism in earlier
+ages, have deduced it from the blessed Elias and John; of whom Elias
+seems to us to have been rather a prophet than a monk; and John to have
+begun to prophesy before he was born.  But others (an opinion in which
+all the common people are agreed) assert that Antony was the head of this
+rule of life, which is partly true.  For he was not so much himself the
+first of all, as the man who excited the earnestness of all.  But Amathas
+and Macarius, Antony’s disciples (the former of whom buried his master’s
+body), even now affirm that a certain Paul, a Theban, was the beginner of
+the matter; which (not so much in name as in opinion) we also hold to be
+true.  Some scatter about, as the fancy takes them, both this and other
+stories; inventing incredible tales of a man in a subterranean cave,
+hairy down to his heels, and many other things, which it is tedious to
+follow out.  For, as their lie is shameless, their opinion does not seem
+worth refuting.
+
+Therefore, because careful accounts of Antony, both in Greek and Roman
+style, have been handed down, I have determined to write a little about
+the beginning and end of Paul’s life; more because the matter has been
+omitted, than trusting to my own wit.  But how he lived during middle
+life, or what stratagems of Satan he endured, is known to none.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF PAUL
+
+
+Under Decius and Valerius, the persecutors, at the time when Cornelius at
+Rome, and Cyprian at Carthage, were condemned in blessed blood, a cruel
+tempest swept over many Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.
+
+Christian subjects in those days longed to be smitten with the sword for
+the name of Christ.  But the crafty enemy, seeking out punishments which
+delayed death, longed to slay souls, not bodies.  And as Cyprian himself
+(who suffered by him) says: “When they longed to die, they were not
+allowed to be slain.”  In order to make his cruelty better known, we have
+set down two examples for remembrance.
+
+A martyr, persevering in the faith, and conqueror amid racks and red-hot
+irons, he commanded to be anointed with honey and laid on his back under
+a burning sun, with his hands tied behind him; in order, forsooth, that
+he who had already conquered the fiery gridiron, might yield to the
+stings of flies.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul left at the death of both
+his parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister already married; being
+about fifteen years old, well taught in Greek and Egyptian letters,
+gentle tempered, loving God much; and, when the storm of persecution
+burst, he withdrew into a distant city.  But
+
+    “To what dost thou not urge the human breast
+    Curst hunger after gold?”
+
+His sister’s husband was ready to betray him whom he should have
+concealed.  Neither the tears of his wife, the tie of blood, or God who
+looks on all things from on high, could call him back from his crime.  He
+was at hand, ready to seize him, making piety a pretext for cruelty.  The
+boy discovered it, and fled into the desert hills.  Once there he changed
+need into pleasure, and going on, and then stopping awhile, again and
+again, reached at last a stony cliff, at the foot whereof was, nigh at
+hand, a great cave, its mouth closed with a stone.  Having moved which
+away (as man’s longing is to know the hidden), exploring more greedily,
+he sees within a great hall, open to the sky above, but shaded by the
+spreading boughs of an ancient palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill
+from which, flowing a short space forth, was sucked up again by the same
+soil which had given it birth.  There were besides in that cavernous
+mountain not a few dwellings, in which he saw rusty anvils and hammers,
+with which coin had been stamped of old.  For this place (so books say)
+was the workshop for base coin in the days when Antony lived with
+Cleopatra.
+
+Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God, he
+spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree gave him
+food and clothes; which lest it should seem impossible to some, I call
+Jesus and his holy angels to witness that I have seen monks one of whom,
+shut up for thirty years, lived on barley bread and muddy water; another
+in an old cistern, which in the country speech they call the Syrian’s
+bed, was kept alive on five figs each day.  These things, therefore, will
+seem incredible to those who do not believe; for to those who do believe
+all things are possible.
+
+But to return thither whence I digressed.  When the blessed Paul had been
+leading the heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and Antony, ninety
+years old, was dwelling in another solitude, this thought (so Antony was
+wont to assert) entered his mind—that no monk more perfect than he had
+settled in the desert.  But as he lay still by night, it was revealed to
+him that there was another monk beyond him far better than he, to visit
+whom he must set out.  So when the light broke, the venerable old man,
+supporting his weak limbs on a staff, began to will to go, he knew not
+whither.  And now the mid day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce;
+and yet he was not turned from the journey he had begun, saying, “I trust
+in my God, that he will show his servant that which he has promised.”
+And as he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets have given
+the name of Hippocentaur.  Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead with the
+salutary impression of the Cross, and, “Here!” he says, “in what part
+here does a servant of God dwell?”  But he, growling I know not what
+barbarous sound, and grinding rather than uttering, the words, attempted
+a courteous speech from lips rough with bristles, and, stretching out his
+right hand, pointed to the way; then, fleeing swiftly across the open
+plains, vanished from the eyes of the wondering Antony.  But whether the
+devil took this form to terrify him; or whether the desert, fertile (as
+is its wont) in monstrous animals, begets that beast likewise, we hold as
+uncertain.
+
+So Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen, goes forward.
+Soon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a short manikin, with crooked
+nose and brow rough with horns, whose lower parts ended in goat’s feet.
+Undismayed by this spectacle likewise, Antony seized, like a good
+warrior, the shield of faith and habergeon of hope; the animal, however,
+was bringing him dates, as food for his journey, and a pledge of peace.
+When he saw that, Antony pushed on, and, asking him who he was, was
+answered, “I am a mortal, and one of the inhabitants of the desert, whom
+the Gentiles, deluded by various errors, worship by the name of Fauns,
+Satyrs, and Incubi.  I come as ambassador from our herd, that thou mayest
+pray for us to the common God, who, we know, has come for the salvation
+of the world, and his sound is gone out into all lands.”  As he spoke
+thus, the aged wayfarer bedewed his face plenteously with tears, which
+the greatness of his joy had poured forth as signs of his heart.  For he
+rejoiced at the glory of Christ, and the destruction of Satan; and,
+wondering at the same time that he could understand the creature’s
+speech, he smote on the ground with his staff, and said, “Woe to thee,
+Alexandria, who worshippest portents instead of God!  Woe to thee, harlot
+city, into which all the demons of the world have flowed together!  What
+wilt thou say now?  Beasts talk of Christ, and thou worshippest portents
+instead of God.”  He had hardly finished his words, when the swift beast
+fled away as upon wings.  Lest this should move a scruple in any one on
+account of its incredibility, it was corroborated, in the reign of
+Constantine, by the testimony of the whole world.  For a man of that
+kind, being led alive to Alexandria, afforded a great spectacle to the
+people; and afterwards the lifeless carcase, being salted lest it should
+decay in the summer heat, was brought to Antioch, to be seen by the
+Emperor.
+
+But—to go on with my tale—Antony went on through that region, seeing only
+the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of the desert.  What he
+should do, or whither turn, he knew not.  A second day had now run by.
+One thing remained, to be confident that he could not be deserted by
+Christ.  All night through he spent a second darkness in prayer, and
+while the light was still dim, he sees afar a she-wolf, panting with heat
+and thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain.  Following her with
+his eyes, and drawing nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began
+to look in: but in vain; for the darkness stopped his view.  However, as
+the Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and
+bated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly, and
+stopping often, watched for a sound.  At length he saw afar off a light
+through the horror of the darkness; hastened on more greedily; struck his
+foot against a stone; and made a noise, at which the blessed Paul shut
+and barred his door, which had stood open.
+
+Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there till
+the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, “Who I am, and whence,
+and why I am come, thou knowest.  I know that I deserve not to see thy
+face; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return.  Thou who receivest
+beasts, why repellest thou a man?  I have sought, and I have found.  I
+knock, that it may be opened to me: which if I win not, here will I die
+before thy gate.  Surely thou shalt at least bury my corpse.”
+
+    “Persisting thus he spoke, and stood there fixed:
+    To whom the hero shortly thus replied.”
+
+“No one begs thus to threaten.  No one does injury with tears.  And dost
+thou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal guest?”
+
+Then Paul, smiling, opened the door.  They mingled mutual embraces, and
+saluted each other by their names, and committed themselves in common to
+the grace of God.  And after the holy kiss, Paul sitting down with Antony
+thus began—
+
+“Behold him, whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs decayed
+by age, and covered with unkempt white hair.  Behold, thou seest but a
+mortal, soon to become dust.  But, because charity bears all things, tell
+me, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether new houses are rising
+in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the world governed? whether
+there are any left who are led captive by the deceits of the devil?”  As
+they spoke thus, they saw a raven settle on a bough; who, flying gently
+down, laid, to their wonder, a whole loaf before them.  When he was gone,
+“Ah,” said Paul, “the Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a
+meal.  For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf, but at thy
+coming Christ hath doubled his soldiers’ allowance.”  Then, having
+thanked God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.
+
+But here a contention arising as to which of them should break the loaf,
+occupied the day till well-nigh evening.  Paul insisted, as the host;
+Antony declined, as the younger man.  At last it was agreed that they
+should take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and each pull towards
+himself, and keep what was left in his hand.  Next they stooped down, and
+drank a little water from the spring; then, immolating to God the
+sacrifice of praise, passed the night watching.
+
+And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, “I knew long
+since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long since God
+had promised thee to me as a fellow servant: but because the time of my
+falling asleep is now come, and (because I always longed to depart, and
+to be with Christ) there is laid up for me when I have finished my course
+a crown of righteousness; therefore thou art sent from the Lord to cover
+my corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.”
+
+Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert him,
+but take him as his companion on such a journey.  But he said, “Thou must
+not seek the things which are thine own, but the things of others.  It is
+expedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden of the flesh, and to
+follow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest of the brethren that
+they should be still trained by thine example.  Wherefore go, unless it
+displease thee, and bring the cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave
+thee, to wrap up my corpse.”  But this the blessed Paul asked, not
+because he cared greatly whether his body decayed covered or bare (as one
+who for so long a time was used to clothe himself with woven palm
+leaves), but that Antony’s grief at his death might be lightened when he
+left him.  Antony astounded that he had heard of Athanasius and his own
+cloak, seeing as it were Christ in Paul, and venerating the God within
+his breast, dared answer nothing: but keeping in silence, and kissing his
+eyes and hands, returned to the monastery, which afterwards was occupied
+by the Saracens.  His steps could not follow his spirit; but, although
+his body was empty with fastings, and broken with old age, yet his
+courage conquered his years.  At last, tired and breathless, he arrived
+at home.  There two disciples met him, who had been long sent to minister
+to him, and asked him, “Where hast thou tarried so long, father?”  He
+answered, “Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of a monk.  I
+have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul
+in Paradise;” and so, closing his lips, and beating his breast, he took
+the cloak from his cell, and when his disciples asked him to explain more
+fully what had befallen, he said, “There is a time to be silent, and a
+time to speak.”  Then going out, and not taking even a morsel of food, he
+returned by the way he had come.  For he feared—what actually
+happened—lest Paul in his absence should render up the soul he owed to
+Christ.
+
+                    [Picture: Paul, the first Hermit]
+
+And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps for
+three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of prophets and
+apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on high; and forthwith
+falling on his face, he cast sand on his head, and weeping and wailing,
+said, “Why dost thou dismiss me, Paul?  Why dost thou depart without a
+farewell?  So late known, dost thou vanish so soon?”  The blessed Antony
+used to tell afterwards, how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly that
+he flew like a bird.  Nor without cause.  For entering the cave he saw,
+with bended knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on high, a lifeless
+corpse.  And at first, thinking that it still lived, he prayed in like
+wise.  But when he heard no sighs (as usual) come from the worshipper’s
+breast, he fell to a tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse of
+the saint was praying, in seemly attitude, to that God to whom all live.
+
+So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting hymns of
+the Christian tradition, Antony grew sad, because he had no spade,
+wherewith to dig the ground; and thinking over many plans in his mind,
+said, “If I go back to the monastery, it is a three days’ journey.  If I
+stay here, I shall be of no more use.  I will die, then, as it is fit;
+and, falling beside thy warrior, Christ, breathe my last breath.”
+
+As he was thinking thus to himself, lo! two lions came running from the
+inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks; seeing whom
+he shuddered at first; and then, turning his mind to God, remained
+fearless, as though he were looking upon doves.  They came straight to
+the corpse of the blessed old man, and crouched at his feet, wagging
+their tails, and roaring with mighty growls, so that Antony understood
+them to lament, as best they could.  Then not far off they began to claw
+the ground with their paws, and, carrying out the sand eagerly, dug a
+place large enough to hold a man: then at once, as if begging a reward
+for their work, they came to Antony, drooping their necks, and licking
+his hands and feet.  But he perceived that they prayed a blessing from
+him; and at once, bursting into praise of Christ, because even dumb
+animals felt that he was God, he saith, “Lord, without whose word not a
+leaf of the tree drops, nor one sparrow falls to the ground, give to them
+as thou knowest how to give.”  And, signing to them with his hand, he
+bade them go.
+
+And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight of
+the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it, and
+raised a mound as is the wont.  And when another dawn shone, lest the
+pious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the intestate dead,
+he kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven, as baskets are made,
+out of the leaves of the palm; and returning to the monastery, told his
+disciples all throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter and
+Pentecost, always clothed himself in Paul’s tunic.
+
+I am inclined, at the end of my treatise, to ask those who know not the
+extent of their patrimonies; who cover their houses with marbles; who sew
+the price of whole farms into their garments with a single thread—What
+was ever wanting to this naked old man?  Ye drink from a gem; he
+satisfied nature from the hollow of his hands.  Ye weave gold into your
+tunics; he had not even the vilest garment of your bond-slave.  But, on
+the other hand, to that poor man Paradise is open; you, gilded as you
+are, Gehenna will receive.  He, though naked, kept the garment of Christ;
+you, clothed in silk, have lost Christ’s robe.  Paul lies covered with
+the meanest dust, to rise in glory; you are crushed by wrought sepulchres
+of stone, to burn with all your works.  Spare, I beseech you, yourselves;
+spare, at least, the riches which you love.  Why do you wrap even your
+dead in golden vestments?  Why does not ambition stop amid grief and
+tears?  Cannot the corpses of the rich decay, save in silk?  I beseech
+thee, whosoever thou art that readest this, to remember Hieronymus the
+sinner, who, if the Lord gave him choice, would much sooner choose Paul’s
+tunic with his merits, than the purple of kings with their punishments.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+This is the story of Paul and Antony, as told by Jerome.  But, in justice
+to Antony himself, it must be said that the sayings recorded of him seem
+to show that he was not the mere visionary ascetic which his biographers
+have made him.  Some twenty sermons are attributed to him, seven of which
+only are considered to be genuine.  A rule for monks, too, is called his:
+but, as it is almost certain that he could neither read nor write, we
+have no proof that any of these documents convey his actual language.  If
+the seven sermons attributed to him be really his, it must be said for
+them that they are full of sound doctrine and vital religion, and worthy,
+as wholes, to be preached in any English church, if we only substitute
+for the word “monk,” the word “man.”
+
+But there are records of Antony which represent him as a far more genial
+and human personage; full of a knowledge of human nature, and of a
+tenderness and sympathy, which account for his undoubted power over the
+minds of men; and showing, too, at times, a certain covert and “pawky”
+humour which puts us in mind, as does the humour of many of the Egyptian
+hermits, of the old-fashioned Scotch.  These reminiscences are contained
+in the “Words of the Elders,” a series of anecdotes of the desert fathers
+collected by various hands; which are, after all, the most interesting
+and probably the most trustworthy accounts of them and their ways.  I
+shall have occasion to quote them later.  I insert here some among them
+which relate to Antony.
+
+
+
+SAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE “WORDS OF THE ELDERS.”
+
+
+A MONK gave away his wealth to the poor, but kept back some for himself.
+Antony said to him, “Go to the village and buy meat, and bring it to me
+on thy bare back.”  He did so: and the dogs and birds attacked him, and
+tore him as well as the meat.  Quoth Antony, “So are those who renounce
+the world, and yet must needs have money, torn by dæmons.”
+
+Antony heard high praise of a certain brother; but, when he tested him,
+he found that he was impatient under injury.  Quoth Antony, “Thou art
+like a house which has a gay porch, but is broken into by thieves through
+the back door.”
+
+Antony, as he sat in the desert, was weary in heart, and said, “Lord, I
+long to be saved, but my wandering thoughts will not let me.  Show me
+what I shall do.”  And looking up, he saw one like himself twisting
+ropes, and rising up to pray.  And the angel (for it was one) said to
+him, “Work like me, Antony, and you shall be saved.”
+
+One asked him how he could please God.  Quoth Antony, “Have God always
+before thine eyes; whatever work thou doest, take example for it out of
+Holy Scripture: wherever thou stoppest, do not move thence in a hurry,
+but abide there in patience.  If thou keepest these three things, thou
+shalt be saved.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “If the baker did not cover the mill-horse’s eyes he would
+eat the corn, and take his own wages.  So God covers our eyes, by leaving
+us to sordid thoughts, lest we should think of our own good works, and be
+puffed up in spirit.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “I saw all the snares of the enemy spread over the whole
+earth.  And I sighed, and said, ‘Who can pass through these?’  And a
+voice came to me, saying, ‘Humility alone can pass through, Antony, where
+the proud can in no wise go.’”
+
+Antony was sitting in his cell, and a voice said to him, “Thou hast not
+yet come to the stature of a currier, who lives in Alexandria.”  Then he
+took his staff, and went down to Alexandria; and the currier, when he
+found him, was astonished at seeing so great a man.  Said Antony, “Tell
+me thy works; for on thy account have I come out of the desert.”  And he
+answered, “I know not that I ever did any good; and, therefore, when I
+rise in the morning, I say that this whole city, from the greatest to the
+least, will enter into the kingdom of God for their righteousness: while
+I, for my sins, shall go to eternal pain.  And this I say over again,
+from the bottom of my heart, when I lie down at night.”  When Antony
+heard that, he said, “Like a good goldsmith, thou hast gained the kingdom
+of God sitting still in thy house; while I, as one without discretion,
+have been haunting the desert all my time, and yet not arrived at the
+measure of thy saying.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “If a monk could tell his elders how many steps he walks,
+or how many cups of water he drinks, in his cell, he ought to tell them,
+for fear of going wrong therein.”
+
+At Alexandria, Antony met one Didymus, most learned in the Scriptures,
+witty, and wise: but he was blind.  Antony asked him, “Art thou not
+grieved at thy blindness?”  He was silent: but being pressed by Antony,
+he confessed that he was sad thereat.  Quoth Antony, “I wonder that a
+prudent man grieves over the loss of a thing which ants, and flies, and
+gnats have, instead of rejoicing in that possession which the holy
+Apostles earned.  For it is better to see with the spirit than with the
+flesh.”
+
+A Father asked Antony, “What shall I do?”  Quoth the old man, “Trust not
+in thine own righteousness; regret not the thing which is past; bridle
+thy tongue and thy stomach.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “He who sits still in the desert is safe from three
+enemies: from hearing, from speech, from sight: and has to fight against
+only one, his own heart.”
+
+A young monk came and told Antony how he had seen some old men weary on
+their journey, and had bidden the wild asses to come and carry him, and
+they came.  Quoth Antony, “That monk looks to me like a ship laden with a
+precious cargo; but whether it will get into port is uncertain.”  And
+after some days he began to tear his hair and weep; and when they asked
+him why, he said, “A great pillar of the Church has just fallen;” and he
+sent brothers to see the young man, and found him sitting on his mat,
+weeping over a great sin which he had done; and he said, “Tell Antony to
+give me ten days’ truce, and I hope I shall satisfy him;” and in five
+days he was dead.
+
+Abbot Elias fell into temptation, and the brethren drove him out.  Then
+he went to the mountain to Antony.  After awhile, Antony sent him home to
+his brethren; but they would not receive him.  Then the old man sent to
+them, and saying, “A ship has been wrecked at sea, and lost all its
+cargo; and, with much toil, the ship is come empty to land.  Will you
+sink it again in the sea?”  So they took Elias back.
+
+Quoth Antony, “There are some who keep their bodies in abstinence: but,
+because they have no discretion, they are far from God.”
+
+A hunter came by, and saw Antony rejoicing with the brethren, and it
+displeased him.  Quoth Antony, “Put an arrow in thy bow, and draw;” and
+he did.  Quoth Antony, “Draw higher;” and again, “Draw higher still.”
+And he said, “If I overdraw, I shall break my bow.”  Quoth Antony, “So it
+is in the work of God.  If we stretch the brethren beyond measure, they
+fail.”
+
+A brother said to Antony, “Pray for me.”  Quoth he, “I cannot pity thee,
+nor God either, unless thou pitiest thyself, and prayest to God.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “The Lord does not permit wars to arise in this generation,
+because he knows that men are weak, and cannot bear them.”
+
+Antony, as he considered the depths of the judgments of God, failed; and
+said, “Lord, why do some die so early, and some live on to a decrepit
+age?  Why are some needy, and others rich?  Why are the unjust wealthy,
+and the just poor?”  And a voice came to him, “Antony, look to thyself.
+These are the judgments of God, which are not fit for thee to know.”
+
+Quoth Antony to Abbot Pastor, “This is a man’s great business—to lay each
+man his own fault on himself before the Lord, and to expect temptation to
+the last day of his life.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “If a man works a few days, and then is idle, and works
+again and is idle again, he does nothing, and will not possess the
+perseverance of patience.”
+
+Quoth Antony to his disciples, “If you try to keep silence, do not think
+that you are exercising a virtue, but that you are unworthy to speak.”
+
+Certain old men came once to Antony; and he wished to prove them, and
+began to talk of holy Scripture, and to ask them, beginning at the
+youngest, what this and that text meant.  And each answered as best they
+could.  But he kept on saying, “You have not yet found it out.”  And at
+last he asked Abbot Joseph, “And what dost thou think this text means?”
+Quoth Abbot Joseph, “I do not know.”  Quoth Antony, “Abbot Joseph alone
+has found out the way, for he says he does not know it.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “I do not now fear God, but love Him, for love drives out
+fear.”
+
+He said again, “Life and death are very near us; for if we gain our
+brother, we gain God: but if we cause our brother to offend, we sin
+against Christ.”
+
+A philosopher asked Antony, “How art thou content, father, since thou
+hast not the comfort of books?”  Quoth Antony, “My book is the nature of
+created things.  In it, when I choose, I can read the words of God.”
+
+Brethren came to Antony, and asked of him a saying by which they might be
+saved.  Quoth he, “Ye have heard the Scriptures, and know what Christ
+requires of you.”  But they begged that he would tell them something of
+his own.  Quoth he, “The Gospel says, ‘If a man smite you on one cheek,
+turn to him the other.’”  But they said that they could not do that.
+Quoth he, “You cannot turn the other cheek to him?  Then let him smite
+you again on the same one.”  But they said they could not do that either.
+Then said he, “If you cannot, at least do not return evil for evil.”  And
+when they said that neither could they do that, quoth Antony to his
+disciples, “Go, get them something to eat, for they are very weak.”  And
+he said to them, “If you cannot do the one, and will not have the other,
+what do you want?  As I see, what you want is prayer.  That will heal
+your weakness.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “He who would be free from his sins must be so by weeping
+and mourning; and he who would be built up in virtue must be built up by
+tears.”
+
+Quoth Antony, “When the stomach is full of meat, forthwith the great
+vices bubble out, according to that which the Saviour says: ‘That which
+entereth into the mouth defileth not a man; but that which cometh out of
+the heart sinks a man in destruction.’”
+
+[This may be a somewhat paradoxical application of the text: but the last
+anecdote of Antony which I shall quote is full of wisdom and humanity.]
+
+A monk came from Alexandria, Eulogius by name, bringing with him a man
+afflicted with elephantiasis.  Now Eulogius had been a scholar, learned,
+and rich, and had given away all he had save a very little, which he kept
+because he could not work with his own hands.
+
+And he told Antony how he had found that wretched man lying in the street
+fifteen years before, having lost then nearly every member save his
+tongue, and how he had taken him home to his cell, nursed him, bathed
+him, physicked him, fed him; and how the man had returned him nothing
+save slanders, curses, and insults; how he had insisted on having meat,
+and had had it; and on going out in public, and had company brought to
+him; and how he had at last demanded to be put down again whence he had
+been taken, always cursing and slandering.  And now Eulogius could bear
+the man no longer, and was minded to take him at his word.
+
+Then said Antony with an angry voice, “Wilt thou cast him out, Eulogius?
+He who remembers that he made him, will not cast him out.  If thou cast
+him out, he will find a better friend than thee.  God will choose some
+one who will take him up when he is cast away.”  Eulogius was terrified
+at these words, and held his peace.
+
+Then went Antony to the sick man, and shouted at him, “Thou elephantiac,
+foul with mud and dirt, not worthy of the third heaven, wilt thou not
+stop shouting blasphemies against God?  Dost thou not know that he who
+ministers to thee is Christ?  How darest thou say such things against
+Christ?”  And he bade Eulogius and the sick man go back to their cell,
+and live in peace, and never part more.  Both went back, and, after forty
+days, Eulogius died, and the sick man shortly after, “altogether whole in
+spirit.”
+
+
+
+
+HILARION
+
+
+I WOULD gladly, did space allow, give more biographies from among those
+of the Egyptian hermits: but it seems best, having shown the reader
+Antony as the father of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his great pupil
+Hilarion, the father of monachism in Palestine.  His life stands written
+at length by St. Jerome, who himself died a monk at Bethlehem; and is
+composed happily in a less ambitious and less rugged style than that of
+Paul, not without elements of beauty, even of tragedy.
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Remember me in thy holy prayers, glory and honour of virgins, nun Asella.
+Before beginning to write the life of the blessed Hilarion, I invoke the
+Holy Spirit which dwelt in him, that, as he largely bestowed virtues on
+Hilarion, he may give to me speech wherewith to relate them; so that his
+deeds may be equalled by my language.  For those who (as Crispus says)
+“have wrought virtues” are held to have been worthily praised in
+proportion to the words in which famous intellects have been able to
+extol them.  Alexander the Great, the Macedonian (whom Daniel calls
+either the brass, or the leopard, or the he-goat), on coming to the tomb
+of Achilles, “Happy art thou, youth,” he said, “who hast been blest with
+a great herald of thy worth”—meaning Homer.  But I have to tell the
+conversation and life of such and so great a man, that even Homer, were
+he here, would either envy my matter, or succumb under it.
+
+For although St. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamina in Cyprus, who had much
+intercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a short epistle,
+which is commonly read, yet it is one thing to praise the dead in general
+phrases, another to relate his special virtues.  We therefore set to work
+rather to his advantage than to his injury; and despise those
+evil-speakers who lately carped at Paul, and will perhaps now carp at my
+Hilarion, unjustly blaming the former for his solitary life, and the
+latter for his intercourse with men; in order that the one, who was never
+seen, may be supposed not to have existed; the other, who was seen by
+many, may be held cheap.  This was the way of their ancestors likewise,
+the Pharisees, who were neither satisfied with John’s desert life and
+fasting, nor with the Lord Saviour’s public life, eating and drinking.
+But I shall lay my hand to the work which I have determined, and pass by,
+with stopped ears, the hounds of Scylla.  I pray that thou mayest
+persevere in Christ, and be mindful of me in thy prayers, most sacred
+virgin.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE
+
+
+HILARION was born in the village of Thabatha, which lies about five miles
+to the south of Gaza, in Palestine.  He had parents given to the worship
+of idols, and blossomed (as the saying is) a rose among the thorns.  Sent
+by them to Alexandria, he was entrusted to a grammarian, and there, as
+far as his years allowed, gave proof of great intellect and good morals.
+He was soon dear to all, and skilled in the art of speaking.  And, what
+is more than all, he believed in the Lord Jesus, and delighted neither in
+the madness of the circus, in the blood of the arena, or in the luxury of
+the theatre: but all his heart was in the congregation of the Church.
+
+But hearing the then famous name of Antony, which was carried throughout
+all Egypt, he was fired with a longing to visit him, and went to the
+desert.  As soon as he saw him he changed his dress, and stayed with him
+about two months, watching the order of his life, and the purity of his
+manner; how frequent he was in prayers, how humble in receiving brethren,
+severe in reproving them, eager in exhorting them; and how no infirmity
+ever broke through his continence, and the coarseness of his food.  But,
+unable to bear longer the crowd which assembled round Antony, for various
+diseases and attacks of devils, he said that it was not consistent to
+endure in the desert the crowds of cities, but that he must rather begin
+where Antony had begun.  Antony, as a valiant man, was receiving the
+reward of victory: he had not yet begun to serve as a soldier.  He
+returned, therefore, with certain monks to his own country; and, finding
+his parents dead, gave away part of his substance to the brethren, part
+to the poor, and kept nothing at all for himself, fearing what is told in
+the Acts of the Apostles, the example or punishment, of Ananias and
+Sapphira; and especially mindful of the Lord’s saying—“He that leaveth
+not all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.”
+
+He was then fifteen years old.  So, naked, but armed in Christ, he
+entered the desert, which, seven miles from Maiuma, the port of Gaza,
+turns away to the left of those who go along the shore towards Egypt.
+And though the place was blood-stained by robbers, and his relations and
+friends warned him of the imminent danger, he despised death, in order to
+escape death.  All wondered at his spirit, wondered at his youth.  Save
+that a certain fire of the bosom and spark of faith glittered in his
+eyes, his cheeks were smooth, his body delicate and thin, unable to bear
+any injury, and liable to be overcome by even a light chill or heat.
+
+So, covering his limbs only with a sackcloth, and having a cloak of skin,
+which the blessed Antony had given him at starting, and a rustic cloak,
+between the sea and the swamp, he enjoyed the vast and terrible solitude,
+feeding on only fifteen figs after the setting of the sun; and because
+the region was, as has been said above, of ill-repute from robberies, no
+man had ever stayed before in that place.  The devil, seeing what he was
+doing and whither he had gone, was tormented.  And though he, who of old
+boasted, saying, “I shall ascend into heaven, I shall sit above the stars
+of heaven, and shall be like unto the Most High,” now saw that he had
+been conquered by a boy, and trampled under foot by him, ere, on account
+of his youth, he could commit sin.  He therefore began to tempt his
+senses; but he, enraged with himself, and beating his breast with his
+fist, as if he could drive out thoughts by blows, “I will force thee,
+mine ass,” said he, “not to kick; and feed thee with straw, not barley.
+I will wear thee out with hunger and thirst; I will burden thee with
+heavy loads; I will hunt thee through heat and cold, till thou thinkest
+more of food than of play.”  He therefore sustained his fainting spirit
+with the juice of herbs and a few figs, after each three or four days,
+praying frequently, and singing psalms, and digging the ground with a
+mattock, to double the labour of fasting by that of work.  At the same
+time, by weaving baskets of rushes, he imitated the discipline of the
+Egyptian monks, and the Apostle’s saying—“He that will not work, neither
+let him eat”—till he was so attenuated, and his body so exhausted, that
+it scarce clung to his bones.
+
+One night he began to hear the crying {108} of infants, the bleating of
+sheep, the wailing of women, the roaring of lions, the murmur of an army,
+and utterly portentous and barbarous voices; so that he shrank frightened
+by the sound ere he saw aught.  He understood these to be the insults of
+devils; and, falling on his knees, he signed the cross of Christ on his
+forehead, and armed with that helmet, and girt with the breastplate of
+faith, he fought more valiantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he
+shuddered to hear, and looking round him with anxious eyes: when, without
+warning, by the bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery horses
+rushing upon him.  But when he had called on Jesus, the earth opened
+suddenly, and the whole pomp was swallowed up before his eyes.  Then said
+he, “The horse and his rider he hath drowned in the sea;” and “Some glory
+themselves in chariots, and some in horses: but we in the name of the
+Lord our God.”  Many were his temptations, and various, by day and night,
+the snares of the devils.  If we were to tell them all, they would make
+the volume too long.  How often did women appear to him; how often
+plenteous banquets when he was hungry.  Sometimes as he prayed, a howling
+wolf ran past him, or a barking fox; or as he sang, a fight of gladiators
+made a show for him: and one of them, as if slain, falling at his feet,
+prayed for sepulture.  He prayed once with his head bowed to the ground,
+and—as is the nature of man—his mind wandered from his prayer, and
+thought of I know not what, when a mocking rider leaped on his back, and
+spurring his sides, and whipping his neck, “Come,” he cries, “come, run!
+why do you sleep?” and, laughing loudly over him, asked him if he were
+tired, or would have a feed of barley.
+
+So from his sixteenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltered from the
+heat and rain in a tiny cabin, which he had woven of rush and sedge.
+Afterwards he built a little cell, which remains to this day, four feet
+wide and five feet high—that is, lower than his own stature—and somewhat
+longer than his small body needed, so that you would believe it to be a
+tomb rather than a dwelling.  He cut his hair only once a year, on
+Easter-day, and lay till his death on the bare ground and a layer of
+rushes, never washing the sack in which he was clothed, and saying that
+it was superfluous to seek for cleanliness in haircloth.  Nor did he
+change his tunic, till the first was utterly in rags.  He knew the
+Scriptures by heart, and recited them after his prayers and psalms as if
+God were present.  And, because it would take up too much time to tell
+his great deeds one by one, I will give a short account of them.
+
+[Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those attributed to St.
+Antony, and, indeed, to all these great Hermit Fathers.  But it is
+unnecessary to relate more wonders which the reader cannot be expected to
+believe.  These miracles, however, according to St. Jerome, were the
+foundations of Hilarion’s fame and public career.  For he says, “When
+they were noised abroad, people flowed to him eagerly from Syria to
+Egypt, so that many believed in Christ, and professed themselves to be
+monks—for no one had known of a monk in Syria before the holy Hilarion.
+He was the first founder and teacher of this conversation and study in
+the province.  The Lord Jesus had in Egypt the old man Antony; he had in
+Palestine the young Hilarion . . .  He was raised, indeed, by the Lord to
+such a glory, that the blessed Antony, hearing of his conversation, wrote
+to him, and willingly received his letters; and if rich people came to
+him from the parts of Syria, he said to them, ‘Why have you chosen to
+trouble yourselves by coming so far, when you have at home my son
+Hilarion?’  So by his example innumerable monasteries arose throughout
+all Palestine, and all monks came eagerly to him . . . But what a care he
+had, not to pass by any brother, however humble or however poor, may be
+shown by this; that once going into the Desert of Kadesh, to visit one of
+his disciples, he came, with an infinite crowd of monks, to Elusa, on the
+very day, as it chanced, on which a yearly solemnity had gathered all the
+people of the town to the Temple of Venus; for they honour her on account
+of the morning star, to the worship of which the nation of the Saracens
+is devoted.  The town itself too is said to be in great part
+semi-barbarous, on account of its remote situation.  Hearing, then, that
+the holy Hilarion was passing by—for he had often cured Saracens
+possessed with dæmons—they came out to meet him in crowds, with their
+wives and children, bowing their necks, and crying in the Syrian tongue,
+‘Barech!’ that is, ‘Bless!’  He received them courteously and humbly,
+entreating them to worship God rather than stones, and wept abundantly,
+looking up to heaven, and promising them that, if they would believe in
+Christ, he would come oftener to them.  Wonderful was the grace of the
+Lord.  They would not let him depart till he had laid the foundations of
+a future church, and their priest, crowned as he was, had been
+consecrated with the sign of Christ.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+He was now sixty-three years old.  He saw about him a great monastery, a
+multitude of brethren, and crowds who came to be healed of diseases and
+unclean spirits, filling the solitude around; but he wept daily, and
+remembered with incredible regret his ancient life.  “I have returned to
+the world,” he said, “and received my reward in this life.  All Palestine
+and the neighbouring provinces think me to be worth somewhat; while I
+possess a farm and household goods, under the pretext of the brethren’s
+advantage.”  On which the brethren, and especially Hesychius, who bore
+him a wondrous love, watched him narrowly.
+
+When he had lived thus sadly for two years, Aristæneta, the Prefect’s
+wife, came to him, wishing him to go with her to Antony, “I would go,” he
+said, weeping, “if I were not held in the prison of this monastery, and
+if it were of any use.  For two days since, the whole world was robbed of
+such a father.”  She believed him, and stopped.  And Antony’s death was
+confirmed a few days after.  Others may wonder at the signs and portents
+which he did, at his incredible abstinence, his silence, his miracles: I
+am astonished at nothing so much as that he was able to trample under
+foot that glory and honour.
+
+Bishops and clergy, monks and Christian matrons (a great temptation),
+people of the common sort, great men, too, and judges crowded to him, to
+receive from him blessed bread or oil.  But he was thinking of nothing
+but the desert, till one day he determined to set out, and taking an ass
+(for he was so shrunk with fasting that he could hardly walk), he tried
+to go his way.  The news got wind; the desolation and destruction of
+Palestine would ensue; ten thousand souls, men and women, tried to stop
+his way; but he would not hear them.  Smiting on the ground with his
+staff, he said, “I will not make my God a liar.  I cannot bear to see
+churches ruined, the altars of Christ trampled down, the blood of my sons
+spilt.”  All who heard thought that some secret revelation had been made
+to him: but yet they would not let him go.  Whereon he would neither eat
+nor drink, and for seven days he persevered fasting, till he had his
+wish, and set out for Bethulia, with forty monks, who could march without
+food till sundown.  On the fifth day he came to Pelusium, then to the
+camp Thebatrum, to see Dracontius; and then to Babylon to see Philo.
+These two were bishops and confessors exiled by Constantius, who favoured
+the Arian heresy.  Then he came to Aphroditon, where he met Barsanes the
+deacon, who used to carry water to Antony on dromedaries, and heard from
+him that the anniversary Antony’s death was near, and would be celebrated
+by a vigil at his tomb.  Then through a vast and horrible wilderness, he
+went for three days to a very high mountain, and found there two monks,
+Isaac and Pelusianus, of whom Isaac had been Antony’s interpreter.
+
+A high and rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at its foot.
+Some of them the sand sucked up; some formed a little rill, with palms
+without number on its banks.  There you might have seen the old man
+wandering to and fro with Antony’s disciples.  “Here,” they said, “he
+used to sing, here to pray, here to work, here to sit when tired.  These
+vines, these shrubs, he planted himself; that plot he laid out with his
+own hands.  This pond to water the garden he made with heavy toil; that
+hoe he kept for many years.”  Hilarion lay on his bed, and kissed the
+couch, as if it were still warm.  Antony’s cell was only large enough to
+let a man lie down in it; and on the mountain top, reached by a difficult
+and winding stair, were two other cells of the same size, cut in the
+stony rock, to which he used to retire from the visitors and disciples,
+when they came to the garden.  “You see,” said Isaac, “this orchard, with
+shrubs and vegetables.  Three years since a troop of wild asses laid it
+waste.  He bade one of their leaders stop; and beat it with his staff.
+‘Why do you eat,’ he asked it, ‘what you did not sow?’  And after that
+the asses, though they came to drink the waters, never touched his
+plants.”
+
+Then Hilarion asked them to show him Antony’s grave.  They led him apart;
+but whether they showed it to him, no man knows.  They hid it, they said,
+by Antony’s command, lest one Pergamius, who was the richest man of those
+parts, should take the corpse to his villa, and build a chapel over it.
+
+Then he went back to Aphroditon, and with only two brothers, dwelt in the
+desert, in such abstinence and silence that (so he said) he then first
+began to serve Christ.  Now it was then three years since the heaven had
+been shut, and the earth dried up: so that they said commonly, the very
+elements mourned the death of Antony.  But Hilarion’s fame spread to
+them; and a great multitude, brown and shrunken with famine, cried to him
+for rain, as to the blessed Antony’s successor.  He saw them, and grieved
+over them; and lifting up his hand to heaven, obtained rain at once.  But
+the thirsty and sandy land, as soon as it was watered by showers, sent
+forth such a crowd of serpents and venomous animals that people without
+number were stung, and would have died, had they not run together to
+Hilarion.  With oil blessed by him, the husbandmen and shepherds touched
+their wounds, and all were surely healed.
+
+But when he saw that he was marvellously honoured, he went to Alexandria,
+meaning to cross the desert to the further oasis.  And because since he
+was a monk he had never stayed in a city, he turned aside to some
+brethren known to him in the Brucheion {115} not far from Alexandria.
+They received him with joy: but, when night came on, they suddenly heard
+him bid his disciples saddle the ass.  In vain they entreated, threw
+themselves across the threshold.  His only answer was, that he was
+hastening away, lest he should bring them into trouble; they would soon
+know that he had not departed without good reason.  The next day, men of
+Gaza came with the Prefect’s lictors, burst into the monastery, and when
+they found him not—“Is it not true,” they said, “what we heard?  He is a
+sorcerer, and knows the future.”  For the citizens of Gaza, after
+Hilarion was gone, and Julian had succeeded to the empire, had destroyed
+his monastery, and begged from the Emperor the death of Hilarion and
+Hesychius.  So letters had been sent forth, to seek them throughout the
+world.
+
+So Hilarion went by the pathless wilderness into the Oasis; {116} and
+after a year, more or less—because his fame had gone before him even
+there, and he could not lie hid in the East—he was minded to sail away to
+lonely islands, that the sea at least might hide what the land would not.
+
+But just then Hadrian, his disciple, came from Palestine, telling him
+that Julian was slain, and that a Christian emperor was reigning; so that
+he ought to return to the relics of his monastery.  But he abhorred the
+thought; and, hiring a camel, went over the vast desert to Parætonia, a
+sea town of Libya.  Then the wretched Hadrian, wishing to go back to
+Palestine and get himself glory under his master’s name, packed up all
+that the brethren had sent by him to his master, and went secretly away.
+But—as a terror to those who despise their masters—he shortly after died
+of jaundice.
+
+Then, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail for Sicily.
+And when, almost in the middle of Adria, {117a} he was going to sell the
+Gospels which he had written out with his own hand when young, to pay his
+fare withal, then the captain’s son was possessed with a devil, and cried
+out, “Hilarion, servant of God, why can we not be safe from thee even at
+sea?  Give me a little respite till I come to the shore, lest, if I be
+cast out here, I fall headlong into the abyss.”  Then said he, “If my God
+lets thee stay, stay.  But if he cast thee out, why dost thou lay the
+blame on me, a sinner and a beggar?”  Then he made the captain and the
+crew promise not to betray him: and the devil was cast out.  But the
+captain would take no fare when he saw that they had nought but those
+Gospels, and the clothes on their backs.  And so Hilarion came to
+Pachynum, a cape of Sicily, {117b} and fled twenty miles inland into a
+deserted farm; and there every day gathered a bundle of firewood, and put
+it on Zananas’s back, who took it to the town, and bought a little bread
+thereby.
+
+But it happened, according to that which is written, “A city set on an
+hill cannot be hid,” one Scutarius was tormented by a devil in the
+Basilica of St. Peter at Rome; and the unclean spirit cried out in him,
+“A few days since Hilarion, the servant of Christ, landed in Sicily, and
+no man knows him, and he thinks himself hid.  I will go and betray him.”
+And forthwith he took ship with his slaves, and came to Pachynum, and, by
+the leading of the devil, threw himself down before the old man’s hut,
+and was cured.
+
+The frequency of his signs in Sicily drew to him sick people and
+religious men in multitudes; and one of the chief men was cured of dropsy
+the same day that he came, and offered Hilarion boundless gifts: but he
+obeyed the Saviour’s saying, “Freely ye have received; freely give.”
+
+While this was happening in Sicily, Hesychius, his disciple, was seeking
+the old man through the world, searching the shores, penetrating the
+desert, and only certain that, wherever he was, he could not long be hid.
+So, after three years were past, he heard at Methone {118} from a Jew,
+who was selling old clothes, that a prophet of the Christians had
+appeared in Sicily, working such wonders that he was thought to be one of
+the old saints.  But he could give no description of him, having only
+heard common report.  He sailed for Pachynum, and there, in a cottage on
+the shore, heard of Hilarion’s fame—that which most surprised all being
+that, after so many signs and miracles, he had not accepted even a bit of
+bread from any man.
+
+So, “not to make the story too long,” as says St. Jerome, Hesychius fell
+at his master’s knees, and watered his feet with tears, till at last he
+raised him up.  But two or three days after he heard from Zananas, how
+the old man could dwell no longer in these regions, but was minded to go
+to some barbarous nation, where both his name and his speech should be
+unknown.  So he took him to Epidaurus, {119a} a city of Dalmatia, where
+he lay a few days in a little farm, and yet could not be hid; for a
+dragon of wondrous size—one of those which, in the country speech, they
+call boas, because they are so huge that they can swallow an ox—laid
+waste the province, and devoured not only herds and flocks, but
+husbandmen and shepherds, which he drew to him by the force of his
+breath. {119b}  Hilarion commanded a pile of wood to be prepared, and
+having prayed to Christ, and called the beast forth, commanded him to
+ascend the pile, and having put fire under, burnt him before all the
+people.  Then fretting over what he should do, or whither he should turn,
+he went alone over the world in imagination, and mourned that, when his
+tongue was silent, his miracles still spoke.
+
+In those days, at the earthquake over the whole world, which befell after
+Julian’s death, the sea broke its bounds; and, as if God was threatening
+another flood, or all was returning to the primæval chaos, ships were
+carried up steep rocks, and hung there.  But when the Epidauritans saw
+roaring waves and mountains of water borne towards the shore, fearing
+lest the town should be utterly overthrown, they went out to the old man,
+and, as if they were leading him out to battle, stationed him on the
+shore.  And when he had marked three signs of the Cross upon the sand,
+and stretched out his hands against the waves, it is past belief to what
+a height the sea swelled, and stood up before him, and then, raging long
+as if indignant at the barrier, fell back little by little into itself.
+
+All Epidaurus, and all that region, talk of this to this day; and mothers
+teach it their children, that they may hand it down to posterity.  Truly,
+that which was said to the Apostles, “If ye believe, ye shall say to this
+mountain, Be removed, and cast into the sea; and it shall be done,” can
+be fulfilled even to the letter, if we have the faith of the Apostles,
+and such as the Lord commanded them to have.  For which is more strange,
+that a mountain should descend into the sea; or that mountains of water
+should stiffen of a sudden, and, firm as a rock only at an old man’s
+feet, should flow softly everywhere else?  All the city wondered; and the
+greatness of the sign was bruited abroad even at Salo.
+
+When the old man discovered that, he fled secretly by night in a little
+boat, and finding a merchantman after two days, sailed for Cyprus.
+Between Maleæ and Cythera {121} they were met by pirates, who had left
+their vessels under the shore, and came up in two large galleys, worked
+not with sails, but oars.  As the rowers swept the billows, all on board
+began to tremble, weep, run about, get handspikes ready, and, as if one
+messenger was not enough, vie with each other in telling the old man that
+pirates were at hand.  He looked out at them and smiled.  Then turning to
+his disciples, “O ye of little faith,” he said; “wherefore do ye doubt?
+Are these more in number than Pharaoh’s army?  Yet they were all drowned
+when God so willed.”  While he spoke, the hostile keels, with foaming
+beaks, were but a short stone’s throw off.  He then stood on the ship’s
+bow, and stretching out his hand against them, “Let it be enough,” he
+said, “to have come thus far.”
+
+O wondrous faith!  The boats instantly sprang back, and made stern-way,
+although the oars impelled them in the opposite direction.  The pirates
+were astonished, having no wish to return back-foremost, and struggled
+with all their might to reach the ship; but were carried to the shore
+again, much faster than they had come.
+
+I pass over the rest, lest by telling every story I make the volume too
+long.  This only I will say, that, while he sailed prosperously through
+the Cyclades, he heard the voices of foul spirits, calling here and there
+out of the towns and villages, and running together on the beaches.  So
+he came to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous once in poets’ songs, which
+now, shaken down by frequent earthquakes, only shows what it has been of
+yore by the foundations of its ruins.  There he dwelt meanly near the
+second milestone out of the city, rejoicing much that he was living
+quietly for a few days.  But not three weeks were past, ere throughout
+the whole island whosoever had unclean spirits began to cry that Hilarion
+the servant of Christ was come, and that they must hasten to him.
+Salonica, Curium, Lapetha, and the other towns, all cried this together,
+most saying that they knew Hilarion, and that he was truly a servant of
+God; but where he was they knew not.  Within a month, nearly 200 men and
+women were gathered together to him.  Whom when he saw, grieving that
+they would not suffer him to rest, raging, as it were to revenge himself,
+he scourged them with such an instancy of prayer, that some were cured at
+once, some after two or three days, and all within a week.
+
+So staying there two years, and always meditating flight, he sent
+Hesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, visit the ashes of the
+monastery, and return in the spring.  When he returned, and Hilarion was
+longing to sail again to Egypt,—that is, to the cattle pastures, {123a}
+because there is no Christian there, but only a fierce and barbarous
+folk,—he persuaded the old man rather to withdraw into some more secret
+spot in the island itself.  And looking round it long till he had
+examined it all over, he led him away twelve miles from the sea, among
+lonely and rough mountains, where they could hardly climb up, creeping on
+hands and knees.  When they were within, they beheld a spot terrible and
+very lonely, surrounded with trees, which had, too, waters falling from
+the brow of a cliff, and a most pleasant little garden, and many
+fruit-trees—the fruit of which, however, Hilarion never ate—and near it
+the ruin of a very ancient temple, {123b} out of which (so he and his
+disciples averred) the voices of so many dæmons resounded day and night,
+that you would have fancied an army there.  With which he was exceedingly
+delighted, because he had his foes close to him; and dwelt therein five
+years; and (while Hesychius often visited him) he was much cheered up in
+this last period of his life, because owing to the roughness and
+difficulty of the ground, and the multitude of ghosts (as was commonly
+reported), few, or none, ever dare climb up to him.
+
+But one day, going out of the little garden, he saw a man paralytic in
+all his limbs, lying before the gate; and having asked Hesychius who he
+was, and how he had come, he was told that the man was the steward of a
+small estate, and that to him the garden, in which they were, belonged.
+Hilarion, weeping over him, and stretching a hand to him as he lay, said,
+“I say to thee, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, arise and walk.”
+Wonderful was the rapidity of the effect.  The words were yet in his
+mouth, when the limbs, strengthened, raised the man upon his feet.  As
+soon as it was known, the needs of many conquered the difficulty of the
+ground, and the want of a path, while all in the neighbourhood watched
+nothing so carefully, as that he should not by some plan slip away from
+them.  For the report had been spread about him, that he could not remain
+long in the same place; which nevertheless he did not do from any
+caprice, or childishness, but to escape honour and importunity; for he
+always longed after silence, and an ignoble life.
+
+So, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was absent, he
+wrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his own hand, leaving to
+Hesychius all his riches; namely, his Gospel-book, and a sackcloth-shirt,
+hood, and mantle.  For his servant had died a few days before.  Many
+religious men came to him from Paphos while he was sick, especially
+because they had heard that he had said that now he was going to migrate
+to the Lord, and be freed from the chains of the body.  There came also
+Constantia, a high-born lady, whose son-in-law and daughter he had
+delivered from death by anointing them with oil.  And he made them all
+swear, that he should not be kept an hour after his death, but covered up
+with earth in that same garden, clothed, as he was, in his haircloth
+shirt, hood, and rustic cloak.  And now little heat was left in his body,
+and nothing of a living man was left, except his reason: and yet, with
+open eyes, he went on saying, “Go forth, what fearest thou?  Go forth, my
+soul, what doubtest thou?  Nigh seventy years hast thou served Christ,
+and dost thou fear death?”  With these words, he breathed out his soul.
+They covered him forthwith in earth, and told them in the city that he
+was buried, before it was known that he was dead.
+
+The holy man Hesychius heard this in Palestine; reached Cyprus; and
+pretending, in order to prevent suspicion on the part of the neighbours,
+who guarded the spot diligently, that he wished to dwell in that same
+garden, he, after some ten months, with extreme peril of his life, stole
+the corpse.  He carried it to Maiuma, followed by whole crowds of monks
+and townsfolk, and placed it in the old monastery, with the shirt, hood,
+and cloak unhurt; the whole body perfect, as if alive, and fragrant with
+such strong odour, that it seemed to have had unguents poured over it.
+
+I think that I ought not, in the end of my book, to be silent about the
+devotion of that most holy woman Constantia, who, hearing that the body
+of Hilarion, the servant of God, was gone to Palestine, straightway gave
+up the ghost, proving by her very death her true love for the servant of
+God.  For she was wont to pass nights in watching his sepulchre, and to
+converse with him as if he were present, in order to assist her prayers.
+You may see, even to this day, a wonderful contention between the folk of
+Palestine and the Cypriots, the former saying that they have the body,
+the latter that they have the soul, of Hilarion.  And yet, in both
+places, great signs are worked daily; but most in the little garden in
+Cyprus; perhaps because he loved that place the best.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Such is the story of Hilarion.  His name still lingers in “the place he
+loved the best.”  “To this day,” I quote this fact from M. de
+Montalembert’s work, “the Cypriots, confounding in their memories legends
+of good and of evil, the victories of the soul and the triumph of the
+senses, give to the ruins of one of those strong castles built by the
+Lusignans, which command their isle, the double name of the Castle of St.
+Hilarion, and the Castle of the God of Love.”  But how intense must have
+been the longing for solitude which drove the old man to travel on foot
+from Syria to the Egyptian desert, across the pathless westward waste,
+even to the Oasis and the utmost limits of the Egyptian province; and
+then to Sicily, to the Adriatic, and at last to a distant isle of Greece.
+And shall we blame him for that longing?  He seems to have done his duty
+earnestly, according to his own light, towards his fellow-creatures
+whenever he met them.  But he seems to have found that noise and crowd,
+display and honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own soul; and
+in order that he might be a better man he desired again and again to
+flee, that he might collect himself, and be alone with Nature and with
+God.  We, here in England, like the old Greeks and Romans, dwellers in
+the busy mart of civilized life, have got to regard mere bustle as so
+integral an element of human life, that we consider a love of solitude a
+mark of eccentricity, and, if we meet any one who loves to be alone, are
+afraid that he must needs be going mad: and that with too great solitude
+comes the danger of too great self-consciousness, and even at last of
+insanity, none can doubt.  But still we must remember, on the other hand,
+that without solitude, without contemplation, without habitual collection
+and re-collection of our own selves from time to time, no great purpose
+is carried out, and no great work can be done; and that it is the bustle
+and hurry of our modern life which causes shallow thought, unstable
+purpose, and wasted energy, in too many who would be better and wiser,
+stronger and happier, if they would devote more time to silence and
+meditation; if they would commune with their own heart in their chamber,
+and be still.  Even in art and in mechanical science, those who have done
+great work upon the earth have been men given to solitary meditation.
+When Brindley, the engineer, it is said, had a difficult problem to
+solve, he used to go to bed, and stay there till he had worked it out.
+Turner, the greatest nature-painter of this or any other age, spent hours
+upon hours in mere contemplation of nature, without using his pencil at
+all.  It is said of him that he was seen to spend a whole day, sitting
+upon a rock, and throwing pebbles into a lake; and when at evening his
+fellow painters showed their day’s sketches, and rallied him upon having
+done nothing, he answered them, “I have done this at least: I have learnt
+how a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it.”  And if this silent
+labour, this steadfast thought are required even for outward arts and
+sciences, how much more for the highest of all arts, the deepest of all
+sciences, that which involves the questions—who are we? and where are we?
+who is God? and what are we to God, and He to us?—namely, the science of
+being good, which deals not with time merely, but with eternity.  No
+retirement, no loneliness, no period of earnest and solemn meditation,
+can be misspent which helps us towards that goal.
+
+And therefore it was that Hilarion longed to be alone; alone with God;
+and with Nature, which spoke to him of God.  For these old hermits,
+though they neither talked nor wrote concerning scenery, nor painted
+pictures of it as we do now, had many of them a clear and intense
+instinct of the beauty and the meaning of outward Nature; as Antony
+surely had when he said that the world around was his book, wherein he
+read the mysteries of God.  Hilarion seems, from his story, to have had a
+special craving for the sea.  Perhaps his early sojourn on the low
+sandhills of the Philistine shore, as he watched the tideless
+Mediterranean, rolling and breaking for ever upon the same beach, had
+taught him to say with the old prophet as he thought of the wicked and
+still half idolatrous cities of the Philistine shore, “Fear ye not? saith
+the Lord; Will ye not tremble at my presence who have placed the sand for
+the bound of the sea, for a perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it?
+And though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail;
+though they roar, yet can they not pass over.  But this people has a
+revolted and rebellious heart, they are revolted and gone.”  Perhaps
+again, looking down from the sunny Sicilian cliffs of Taormino, or
+through the pine-clad gulfs and gullies of the Cypriote hills upon the
+blue Mediterranean below,
+
+    “And watching from his mountain wall
+    The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl,”
+
+he had enjoyed and profited by all those images which that sight has
+called up in so many minds before and since.  To him it may be, as to the
+Psalmist, the storm-swept sea pictured the instability of mortal things,
+while secure upon his cliff he said with the Psalmist, “The Lord hath set
+my feet upon a rock, and ordered my goings;” and again, “The wicked are
+like a troubled sea, casting up mire and dirt.”  Often, again, looking
+upon that far horizon, must his soul have been drawn, as many a soul has
+been drawn since, to it, and beyond it, as it were into a region of
+boundless freedom and perfect peace, while he said again with David, “Oh
+that I had wings like a dove; then would I flee away and be at rest!” and
+so have found, in the contemplation of the wide ocean, a substitute at
+least for the contemplation of those Eastern deserts which seemed the
+proper home for the solitary and meditative philosopher.
+
+For indeed in no northern country can such situations be found for the
+monastic cell as can be found in those great deserts which stretch from
+Syria to Arabia, from Arabia to Egypt, from Egypt to Africa properly so
+called.  Here and there a northern hermit found, as Hilarion found, a
+fitting home by the seaside, on some lonely island or storm-beat rock,
+like St. Cuthbert, off the coast of Northumberland; like St. Rule, on his
+rock at St. Andrew’s; and St. Columba, with his ever-venerable company of
+missionaries, on Iona.  But inland, the fens and the forests were foul,
+unwholesome, depressing, the haunts of fever, ague, delirium, as St.
+Guthlac found at Crowland, and St. Godric at Finkhale. {130}  The vast
+pine-woods which clothe the Alpine slopes, the vast forests of beech and
+oak which then spread over France and Germany, gave in time shelter to
+many a holy hermit.  But their gloom, their unwholesomeness, and the
+severity of the climate, produced in them, as in most northern ascetics,
+a temper of mind more melancholy, and often more fierce; more given to
+passionate devotion, but more given also to dark superstition and cruel
+self-torture, than the genial climate of the desert produced in old monks
+of the East.  When we think of St. Antony upon his mountain, we must not
+picture to ourselves, unless we, too, have been in the East, such a
+mountain as we have ever seen.  We must not think of a brown northern
+moorland, sad, savage, storm-swept, snow-buried, save in the brief and
+uncertain summer months.  We must not picture to ourselves an Alp, with
+thundering avalanches, roaring torrents, fierce alternations of heat and
+cold, uninhabitable by mortal man, save during that short period of the
+year when the maidens in the sennhutt watch the cattle upon the upland
+pastures.  We must picture to ourselves mountains blazing day after day,
+month after month, beneath the glorious sun and cloudless sky, in an air
+so invigorating that the Arabs can still support life there upon a few
+dates each day; and where, as has been said,—“Man needs there hardly to
+eat, drink, or sleep, for the act of breathing will give life enough;” an
+atmosphere of such telescopic clearness as to explain many of the strange
+stories which have been lately told of Antony’s seemingly preternatural
+powers of vision; a colouring, which, when painters dare to put it on
+canvas, seems to our eyes, accustomed to the quiet greys and greens of
+England, exaggerated and impossible—distant mountains, pink and lilac,
+quivering in pale blue haze—vast sheets of yellow sand, across which the
+lonely rock or a troop of wild asses or gazelles throw intense blue-black
+shadows—rocks and cliffs not shrouded, as here, in soil, much less in
+grass and trees, or spotted with lichens and stained with veins; but
+keeping each stone its natural colour, as it wastes—if, indeed, it wastes
+at all—under the action of the all but rainless air, which has left the
+paintings on the old Egyptian temples fresh and clear for thousands of
+years; rocks, orange and purple, black, white, and yellow; and again and
+again beyond them {131} glimpses, it may be, of the black Nile, and of
+the long green garden of Egypt, and of the dark blue sea.  The eastward
+view from Antony’s old home must be one of the most glorious in the
+world, save for its want of verdure and of life.  For Antony, as he
+looked across the blue waters of the Gulf of Akaba, across which, far
+above, the Israelites had passed in old times, could see the sacred goal
+of their pilgrimage, the red granite peaks of Sinai, flaming against the
+blue sky with that intensity of hue which is scarcely exaggerated, it is
+said, by the bright scarlet colour in which Sinai is always painted in
+mediæval illuminations.
+
+But the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us, was not, of
+course, what produced the deepest effect upon the minds of those old
+hermits.  They enjoyed Nature, not so much for her beauty, as for her
+perfect peace.  Day by day the rocks remained the same.  Silently out of
+the Eastern desert, day by day, the rising sun threw aloft those arrows
+of light, which the old Greeks had named “the rosy fingers of the dawn.”
+Silently he passed in full blaze almost above their heads throughout the
+day; and silently he dipped behind the western desert in a glory of
+crimson and orange, green and purple; and without an interval of
+twilight, in a moment, all the land was dark, and the stars leapt out,
+not twinkling as in our damper climate here, but hanging like balls of
+white fire in that purple southern night, through which one seems to look
+beyond the stars into the infinite abyss, and towards the throne of God
+himself.  Day after day, night after night, that gorgeous pageant passed
+over the poor hermit’s head without a sound; and though sun and moon and
+planet might change their places as the year rolled round, the earth
+beneath his feet seemed not to change.  Every morning he saw the same
+peaks in the distance, the same rocks, the same sand-heaps around his
+feet.  He never heard the tinkle of a running stream.  For weeks together
+he did not even hear the rushing of the wind.  Now and then a storm might
+sweep up the pass, whirling the sand in eddies, and making the desert for
+a while literally a “howling wilderness;” and when that was passed all
+was as it had been before.  The very change of seasons must have been
+little marked to him, save by the motions, if he cared to watch them, of
+the stars above; for vegetation there was none to mark the difference
+between summer and winter.  In spring of course the solitary date-palm
+here and there threw out its spathe of young green leaves, to add to the
+number of those which, grey or brown, hung drooping down the stem,
+withering but not decaying for many a year in that dry atmosphere; or
+perhaps the accacia bushes looked somewhat gayer for a few weeks, and the
+Retama broom, from which as well as from the palm leaves he plaited his
+baskets, threw out its yearly crop of twigs; but any greenness there
+might be in the vegetation of spring, turned grey in a few weeks beneath
+that burning sun; and be rest of the year was one perpetual summer of
+dust and glare and rest.  Amid such scenes they had full time for
+thought.  Nature and man alike left it in peace; while the labour
+required for sustaining life (and the monk wished for nothing more than
+to sustain mere life) was very light.  Wherever water could be found, the
+hot sun and the fertile soil would repay by abundant crops, perhaps twice
+in the year, the toil of scratching the ground and putting in the seed.
+Moreover, the labour of the husbandman, so far from being adverse to the
+contemplative life, is of all occupations, it may be, that which promotes
+most quiet and wholesome meditation in the mind which cares to meditate.
+The life of the desert, when once the passions of youth were conquered,
+seems to have been not only a happy, but a healthy one.  And when we
+remember that the monk, clothed from head to foot in woollen, and
+sheltered, too, by his sheepskin cape, escaped those violent changes of
+temperature which produce in the East so many fatal diseases, and which
+were so deadly to the linen-clothed inhabitants of the green lowlands of
+the Nile, we need not be surprised when we read of the vast longevity of
+many of the old abbots; and of their death, not by disease, but by
+gentle, and as it were wholesome natural decay.
+
+But if their life was easy, it was surely not ill-spent.  If having few
+wants, and those soon supplied, they found too much time for the luxury
+of quiet thought, those need not blame them, who having many wants, and
+those also easily supplied, are wont to spend their superfluous leisure
+in any luxury save that of thought, above all save that of thought
+concerning God.  For it was upon God that these men, whatever their
+defects or ignorances may have been, had set their minds.  That man was
+sent into the world to know and to love, to obey and thereby to glorify,
+the Maker of his being, was the cardinal point of their creed, as it has
+been of every creed which ever exercised any beneficial influence on the
+minds of men.  Dean Milman in his “History of Christianity,” vol. iii.
+page 294, has, while justly severe upon the failings and mistakes of the
+Eastern monks, pointed out with equal justice that the great desire of
+knowing God was the prime motive in the mind of all their best men:—
+
+“In some regions of the East, the sultry and oppressive heat, the general
+relaxation of the physical system, dispose constitutions of a certain
+temperament to a dreamy inertness.  The indolence and prostration of the
+body produce a kind of activity in the mind, if that may properly be
+called activity which is merely giving loose to the imagination and the
+emotions as they follow out the wild train of incoherent thought, or are
+agitated by impulses of spontaneous and ungoverned feeling.  Ascetic
+Christianity ministered new aliment to this common propensity.  It gave
+an object, both vague and determinate enough to stimulate, yet never to
+satisfy or exhaust.  The regularity of stated hours of prayer, and of a
+kind of idle industry, weaving mats or plaiting baskets, alternated with
+periods of morbid reflection on the moral state of the soul, and of
+mystic communion with the Deity.  It cannot indeed be wondered that this
+new revelation, as it were, of the Deity, this profound and rational
+certainty of his existence, this infelt consciousness of his perpetual
+presence, these as yet unknown impressions of his infinity, his power,
+and his love, should give a higher character to this eremitical
+enthusiasm, and attract men of loftier and more vigorous minds within its
+sphere.  It was not merely the pusillanimous dread of encountering the
+trials of life which urged the humbler spirits to seek a safe retirement;
+or the natural love of peace, and the weariness and satiety of life,
+which commended this seclusion to those who were too gentle to mingle in,
+or who were exhausted with, the unprofitable turmoil of the world; nor
+was it always the anxiety to mortify the rebellious and refractory body
+with more advantage.  The one absorbing idea of the Majesty of the
+Godhead almost seemed to swallow up all other considerations.  The
+transcendent nature of the Triune Deity, the relation of the different
+persons of the Godhead to each other, seemed the only worthy object of
+men’s contemplative faculties.”
+
+And surely the contemplation of the Godhead is no unworthy occupation for
+the immortal soul of any human being.  But it would be unjust to these
+hermits did we fancy that their religion consisted merely even in this;
+much less that it consisted merely in dreams and visions, or in mere
+stated hours of prayer.  That all did not fulfil the ideal of their
+profession is to be expected, and is frankly confessed by the writers of
+the Lives of the Fathers; that there were serious faults, even great
+crimes, among them is not denied.  Those who wrote concerning them were
+so sure that they were on the whole good men, that they were not at all
+afraid of saying that some of them were bad,—not afraid, even, of
+recording, though only in dark hints, the reason why the Arab tribes
+around once rose and laid waste six churches with their monasteries in
+the neighbourhood of Scetis.  St. Jerome in like manner does not hesitate
+to pour out bitter complaints against many of the monks in the
+neighbourhood of Bethlehem.  It is notorious, too, that many became monks
+merely to escape slavery, hunger, or conscription into the army: Unruly
+and fanatical spirits, too, grew fond of wandering.  Bands of monks on
+the great roads and public places of the empire, Massalians or Gyrovagi,
+as they were called, wandered from province to province, and cell to
+cell, living on the alms which they extorted from the pious, and making
+up too often for protracted fasts by outbursts of gluttony and
+drunkenness.  And doubtless the average monk, even when well-conducted
+himself and in a well-conducted monastery, was, like average men of every
+creed, rank, or occupation, a very common-place person, acting from very
+mixed and often very questionable motives; and valuing his shaven crown
+and his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of prayer and his implicit
+obedience to his abbot, more highly than he valued the fear and the love
+of God.
+
+It is so in every creed.  With some, even now, the strict observance of
+the Sabbath; with others, outward reverence at the Holy Communion; with
+others, the frequent hearing of sermons which suit heir own views; with
+others, continual reading of pious books (on the lessons of which they do
+not act), covers, instead of charity, a multitude of sins.  But the
+saint, abbot, or father among these hermits was essentially the man who
+was not a common-place person; who was more than an ascetic, and more
+than a formalist; who could pierce beyond the letter to the spirit, and
+see, beyond all forms of doctrine or modes of life, that virtue was the
+one thing needful.
+
+The Historia Lausiaca and the Pratum Spirituale have many a story and
+many a saying as weighty, beautiful, and instructive now as they were
+fifteen hundred years ago; stories which show that graces and virtues
+such as the world had never seen before, save in the persecuted and
+half-unknown Christians of the first three centuries, were cultivated to
+noble fruitfulness by the monks of the East.  For their humility,
+obedience, and reverence for their superiors it is not wise to praise
+them just now; for those are qualities which are not at present
+considered virtues, but rather (save by the soldier) somewhat abject
+vices; and indeed they often carried them, as they did their abstinence,
+to an extravagant pitch.  But it must be remembered, in fairness, that if
+they obeyed their supposed superiors, they had first chosen their
+superiors themselves; that as the becoming a monk at all was an assertion
+of self-will and independence, whether for good or evil, so their
+reverence for their abbots was a voluntary loyalty to one who they
+fancied had a right to rule them, because he was wiser and better than
+they; a feeling which some have found not degrading, but ennobling; and
+the parent, not of servility, but of true freedom.  And as for the
+obsolete virtue of humility, that still remains true which a voice said
+to Antony, when he saw the snares which were spread over the whole earth,
+and asked, sighing, “Who can pass safely over these?” and the voice
+answered, “Humility alone.”
+
+For the rest, if the Sermon on the Mount mean anything, as a practical
+rule of life for Christian men, then these monks were surely justified in
+trying to obey it, for to obey it they surely tried.
+
+The Words of the Elders, to which I have already alluded, and the
+Lausiaca of Palladius likewise, are full of precious scraps of moral
+wisdom, sayings, and anecdotes, full of nobleness, purity, pathos,
+insight into character, and often instinct with a quiet humour, which
+seems to have been, in the Old world, peculiar to the Egyptians, as it
+is, in the New, almost peculiar to the old-fashioned God-fearing
+Scotsman.
+
+Take these examples, chosen almost at random.
+
+Serapion the Sindonite was so called because he wore nothing but a
+sindon, or linen shirt.  Though he could not read, he could say all the
+Scriptures by heart.  He could not (says Palladius) sit quiet in his
+cell, but wandered over the world in utter poverty, so that he “attained
+to perfect impassibility, for with that nature he was born; for there are
+differences of natures, not of substances.”
+
+So says Palladius, and goes on to tell how Serapion sold himself to
+certain play-actors for twenty gold pieces, and laboured for them as a
+slave till he had won them to Christ, and made them renounce the theatre;
+after which he made his converts give the money to the poor, and went his
+way.
+
+On one of his journeys he came to Athens, and, having neither money nor
+goods, starved there for three days.  But on the fourth he went up,
+seemingly to the Areopagus, and cried, “Men of Athens, help!”  And when
+the crowd questioned him, he told them that he had, since he left Egypt,
+fallen into the hands of three usurers, two of whom he had satisfied, but
+the third would not leave him.
+
+On being promised assistance, he told them that his three usurers were
+avarice, sensuality, and hunger.  Of the two first he was rid, having
+neither money nor passions: but, as he had eaten nothing for three days,
+the third was beginning to be troublesome, and demanded its usual debt,
+without paying which he could not well live; whereon certain
+philosophers, seemly amused by his apologue, gave him a gold coin.  He
+went to a baker’s shop, laid down the coin, took up a loaf, and went out
+of Athens for ever.  Then the philosophers knew that he was endowed with
+true virtue; and when they had paid the baker the price of the loaf, got
+back their gold.
+
+When he went into Lacedæmon, he heard that a great man there was a
+Manichæan, with all his family, though otherwise a good man.  To him
+Serapion sold himself as a slave, and within two years converted him and
+his wife, who thenceforth treated him not as a slave, but as their own
+brother.
+
+After awhile, this “Spiritual adamant,” as Palladius calls him, bought
+his freedom of them, and sailed for Rome.  At sundown first the sailors,
+and then the passengers, brought out each man his provisions, and ate.
+Serapion sat still.  The crew fancied that he was sea-sick; but when he
+had passed a second, third, and fourth day fasting, they asked, “Man, why
+do you not eat?”  “Because I have nothing to eat.”  They thought that
+some one had stolen his baggage: but when they found that the man had
+absolutely nothing, they began to ask him not only how he would keep
+alive, but how he would pay his fare.  He only answered, “That he had
+nothing; that they might cast him out of the ship where they had found
+him.”
+
+But they answered, “Not for a hundred gold pieces, so favourable was the
+wind,” and fed him all the way to Rome, where we lose sight of him and
+his humour.
+
+To go on with almost chance quotations:—
+
+Some monks were eating at a festival, and one said to the serving man, “I
+eat nothing cooked; tell them to bring me salt.”  The serving man began
+to talk loudly: “That brother eats no cooked meat; bring him a little
+salt.”  Quoth Abbot Theodore: “It were more better for thee, brother, to
+eat meat in thy cell than to hear thyself talked about in the presence of
+thy brethren.”
+
+Again: a brother came to Abbot Silvanus, in Mount Sinai, and found the
+brethren working, and said, “Why labour you for the meat which perisheth?
+Mary chose the good part.”  The abbot said, “Give him a book to read, and
+put him in an empty cell.”  About the ninth hour the brother looked out,
+to see if he would be called to eat, and at last came to the abbot, and
+asked, “Do not the brethren eat to-day, abbot?”  “Yes.”  “Then why was
+not I called?”  Then quoth Abbot Silvanus: “Thou art a spiritual man: and
+needest not their food.  We are carnal, and must eat, because we work:
+but thou hast chosen the better part.”  Whereat the monk was ashamed.
+
+As was also John the dwarf, who wanted to be “without care like the
+angels, doing nothing but praise God.”  So he threw away his cloak, left
+his brother the abbot, and went into the desert.  But after seven days he
+came back, and knocked at the door.  “Who is there?” asked his brother.
+“John.”  “Nay, John is turned into an angel, and is no more among men.”
+So he left him outside all night; and in the morning gave him to
+understand that if he was a man he must work, but that if he was an
+angel, he had no need to live in a cell.
+
+Consider again the saying of the great Antony, when some brethren were
+praising another in his presence.  But Antony tried him, and found that
+he could not bear an injury.  Then said the old man, “Brother, thou art
+like a house with an ornamented porch, while the thieves break into it by
+the back door.”
+
+Or this, of Abbot Isidore, when the devil tempted him to despair, and
+told him that he would be lost after all: “If I do go into torment, I
+shall still find you below me there.”
+
+Or this, of Zeno the Syrian, when some Egyptian monks came to him and
+began accusing themselves: “The Egyptians hide the virtues which they
+have, and confess vices which they have not.  The Syrians and Greeks
+boast of virtues which they have not, and hide vices which they have.”
+
+Or this: One old man said to another, “I am dead to this world.”  “Do not
+trust yourself,” quoth the other, “till you are out of this world.  If
+you are dead, the devil is not.”
+
+Two old men lived in the same cell, and had never disagreed.  Said one to
+the other, “Let us have just one quarrel, like other men.”  Quoth the
+other: “I do not know what a quarrel is like.”  Quoth the first: “Here—I
+will put a brick between us, and say that it is mine: and you shall say
+it is not mine; and over that let us have a contention and a squabble.”
+But when they put the brick between them, and one said, “It is mine,” the
+other said, “I hope it is mine.”  And when the first said, “It is mine,
+it is not yours,” he answered, “If it is yours, take it.”  So they could
+not find out how to have a quarrel.
+
+Anger, malice, revenge, were accursed things in the eyes of these men.
+There was enough of them, and too much, among their monks; but far less,
+doubt not, than in the world outside.  For within the monastery it was
+preached against, repressed, punished; and when repented of, forgiven,
+with loving warnings and wise rules against future transgression.
+
+Abbot Agathon used to say, “I never went to sleep with a quarrel against
+any man; nor did I, as far as lay in me, let one who had a quarrel
+against me sleep till he had made peace.”
+
+Abbot Isaac was asked why the devils feared him so much.  “Since I was
+made a monk,” he said, “I settled with myself that no angry word should
+come out of my mouth.”
+
+An old man said, “Anger arises from these four things: from the lust of
+avarice, in giving and receiving; from loving one’s own opinion; from
+wishing to be honoured; and from fancying oneself a teacher and hoping to
+be wiser than everybody.  And anger obscures human reason by these four
+ways: if a man hate his neighbour; or if he envy him; or if he look on
+him as nought; or if he speak evil of him.”
+
+A brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius, told his
+story, and said, “I wish to avenge myself, father.”  The abbot begged him
+to leave vengeance to God: but when he refused, said, “Then let us pray.”
+Whereon the old man rose, and said, “God, thou art not necessary to us
+any longer, that thou shouldest be careful of us: for we, as this brother
+says, both will and can avenge ourselves.”  At which that brother fell at
+his feet, and begged pardon, promising never to strive with his enemy.
+
+Abbot Pœmen said often, “Let malice never overcome thee.  If any man do
+thee harm, repay him with good, that thou mayest conquer evil with good.”
+
+In a congregation at Scetis, when many men’s lives and conversation had
+been talked over, Abbot Pior held his tongue.  After it was over, he went
+out, and filled a sack with sand, and put it on his back.  Then he took a
+little bag, filled it likewise with sand, and carried it before him.  And
+when the brethren asked him what he meant, he said, “The sack behind is
+my own sins, which are very many: yet I have cast them behind my back,
+and will not see them, nor weep over them.  But I have put these few sins
+of my brother’s before my eyes, and am tormenting myself over them, and
+condemning my brother.”
+
+A brother having committed a fault, went to Antony, and his brethren
+followed, upbraiding him, and wanting to bring him back; while he denied
+having done the wrong.  Abbot Paphnutius was there, and spoke a parable
+to them:—
+
+“I saw on the river bank a man sunk in the mud up to his knees.  And men
+came to pull him out, and thrust him in up to the neck.”
+
+Then said Antony of Paphnutius, “Behold a man who can indeed save souls.”
+
+Abbot Macarius was going up to the mountain of Nitria, and sent his
+disciple on before.  The disciple met an idol-priest hurrying on, and
+carrying a great beam: to whom he cried, “Where art thou running, devil?”
+At which he was wroth, and beat him so that he left him half dead, and
+then ran on, and met Macarius, who said, “Salvation to thee, labourer,
+salvation!”  He answered, wondering, “What good hast thou seen in me that
+thou salutest me?”  “Because I saw thee working and running, though
+ignorantly.”  To whom the priest said, “Touched by thy salutation, I knew
+thee to be a great servant of God; for another—I know not who—miserable
+monk met me and insulted me, and I gave him blows for his words.”  Then
+laying hold of Macarius’s feet he said, “Unless thou make me a monk I
+will not leave hold of thee.”
+
+After all, of the best of these men are told (with much honesty) many
+sayings which show that they felt in their minds and hearts that the
+spirit was above the letter: sayings which show that they had at least at
+times glimpses of a simpler and more possible virtue; foretastes of a
+perfection more human, and it may be more divine.
+
+“Better,” said Abbot Hyperichius, “to eat flesh and drink wine, than to
+eat our brethren’s flesh with bitter words.”
+
+A brother asked an elder, “Give me, father one thing which I may keep,
+and be saved thereby.”  The elder answered, “If thou canst be injured and
+insulted, and hear and be silent, that is a great thing, and above all
+the other commandments.”
+
+One of the elders used to say, “Whatever a man shrinks from let him not
+do to another.  Dost thou shrink if any man detracts from thee?  Speak
+not ill of another.  Dost thou shrink if any man slanders thee, or if any
+man takes aught from thee?  Do not that or the like to another man.  For
+he that shall have kept this saying, will find it suffice for his
+salvation.”
+
+“The nearer,” said Abbot Muthues, “a man approaches God, the more he will
+see himself to be a sinner.”
+
+Abbot Sisois, when he lay dying, begged to live a little longer, that he
+might repent; and when they wondered, he told them that he had not yet
+even begun repentance.  Whereby they saw that he was perfect in the fear
+of the Lord.
+
+But the most startling confession of all must have been that wrung from
+the famous Macarius the elder.  He had been asked once by a brother, to
+tell him a rule by which he might be saved; and his answer had been
+this:—to fly from men, to sit in his cell, and to lament for his sins
+continually; and, what was above all virtues, to keep his tongue in order
+as well as his appetite.
+
+But (whether before or after that answer is not said) he gained a deeper
+insight into true virtue, on the day when (like Antony when he was
+reproved by the example of the tanner in Alexandria) he heard a voice
+telling him that he was inferior to two women who dwelt in the nearest
+town.  Catching up his staff, like Antony, he went off to see the wonder.
+The women, when questioned by him as to their works, were astonished.
+They had been simply good wives for years past, married to two brothers,
+and living in the same house.  But when pressed by him, they confessed
+that they had never said a foul word to each other, and never quarrelled.
+At one time they had agreed together to retire into a nunnery, but could
+not, for all their prayers, obtain the consent of their husbands.  On
+which they had both made an oath, that they would never, to their deaths,
+speak one worldly word.
+
+Which when the blessed Macarius had heard, he said, “In truth there is
+neither virgin, nor married woman, nor monk, nor secular; but God only
+requires the intention, and ministers the spirit of life to all.”
+
+
+
+
+ARSENIUS
+
+
+I SHALL give one more figure, and that a truly tragical one, from these
+“Lives of the Egyptian Fathers,” namely, that of the once great and
+famous Arsenius, the Father (as he was at one time called) of the
+Emperors.  Theodosius, the great statesman and warrior, who for some
+twenty years kept up by his single hand the falling empire of Rome, heard
+how Arsenius was at once the most pious and the most learned of his
+subjects; and wishing—half barbarian as he was himself—that his sons
+should be brought up, not only as scholars, but as Christians, he sent
+for Arsenius to his court, and made him tutor to his two young sons
+Honorius and Arcadius.  But the two lads had neither their father’s
+strength nor their father’s nobleness.  Weak and profligate, they fretted
+Arsenius’s soul day by day; and, at last, so goes the story, provoked him
+so far that, according to the fashion of a Roman pedagogue, he took the
+ferula and administered to one of the princes a caning, which he no doubt
+deserved.  The young prince, in revenge, plotted against his life.  Among
+the parasites of the Palace it was not difficult to find those who would
+use steel and poison readily enough in the service of an heir-apparent,
+and Arsenius fled for his life: and fled, as men were wont in those days,
+to Egypt and the Thebaid.  Forty years old he was when he left the court,
+and forty years more he spent among the cells at Scetis, weeping day and
+night.  He migrated afterwards to a place called Troe, and there died at
+the age of ninety-five, having wept himself, say his admirers, almost
+blind.  He avoided, as far as possible, beholding the face of man; upon
+the face of woman he would never look.  A noble lady, whom he had known
+probably in the world, came all the way from Rome to see him; but he
+refused himself to her sternly, almost roughly.  He had known too much of
+the fine ladies of the Roman court; all he cared for was peace.  There is
+a story of him that, changing once his dwelling-place, probably from
+Scetis to Troe, he asked, somewhat peevishly, of the monks around him,
+“What that noise was?”  They told him it was only the wind among the
+reeds.  “Alas!” he said, “I have fled everywhere in search of silence,
+and yet here the very reeds speak.”  The simple and comparatively
+unlearned monks around him looked with a profound respect on the
+philosopher, courtier, scholar, who had cast away the real pomps and
+vanities of this life, such as they had never known.  There is a story
+told, plainly concerning Arsenius, though his name is not actually
+mentioned in it, how a certain old monk saw him lying upon a softer mat
+than his fellows, and indulged with a few more comforts; and complained
+indignantly of his luxury, and the abbot’s favouritism.  Then asked the
+abbot, “What didst thou eat before thou becamest a monk?” He confessed he
+had been glad enough to fill his stomach with a few beans.  “How wert
+thou dressed?”  He was glad enough, again he confessed, to have any
+clothes at all on his back.  “Where didst thou sleep?”  “Often enough on
+the bare ground in the open air,” was the answer.  “Then,” said the
+abbot, “thou art, by thy own confession, better off as a monk than thou
+wast as a poor labouring man: and yet thou grudgest a little comfort to
+one who has given up more luxury than thou hast ever beheld.  This man
+slept beneath silken canopies; he was carried in gilded litters, by
+trains of slaves; he was clothed in purple and fine linen; he fed upon
+all the delicacies of the great city: and he has given up all for Christ.
+And what hast thou given up, that thou shouldst grudge him a softer mat,
+or a little more food each day?”  And so the monk was abashed, and held
+his peace.
+
+As for Arsenius’s tears, it is easy to call his grief exaggerated or
+superstitious: but those who look on them with human eyes will pardon
+them, and watch with sacred pity the grief of a good man, who felt that
+his life had been an utter failure.  He saw his two pupils, between whom,
+at their father’s death, the Roman Empire was divided into Eastern and
+Western, grow more and more incapable of governing.  He saw a young
+barbarian, whom he must have often met at the court in Byzantium, as
+Master of the Horse, come down from his native forests, and sack the
+Eternal City of Rome.  He saw evil and woe unspeakable fall on that world
+which he had left behind him, till the earth was filled with blood, and
+Antichrist seemed ready to appear, and the day of judgment to be at hand.
+And he had been called to do what he could to stave off this ruin, to
+make those young princes decree justice and rule in judgment by the fear
+of God.  But he had failed; and there was nothing left to him save
+self-accusation and regret, and dread lest some, at least, of the blood
+which had been shed might be required at his hands.  Therefore, sitting
+upon his palm-mat there in Troe, he wept his life away; happier,
+nevertheless, and more honourable in the sight of God and man than if,
+like a Mazarin or a Talleyrand, and many another crafty politician, both
+in Church and State, he had hardened his heart against his own mistakes,
+and, by crafty intrigue and adroit changing of sides at the right moment,
+had contrived to secure for himself, out of the general ruin, honour and
+power and wealth, and delicate food, and a luxurious home, and so been
+one of those of whom the Psalmist says, with awful irony, “So long as
+thou doest well unto thyself, men will speak good of thee.”
+
+One good deed at least Arsenius had seen done—a deed which has lasted to
+all time, and done, too, to the eternal honour of his order, by a
+monk—namely, the abolition of gladiator shows.  For centuries these
+wholesale murders had lasted through the Roman Republic and through the
+Roman Empire.  Human beings in the prime of youth and health, captives or
+slaves, condemned malefactors, and even free-born men, who hired
+themselves out to death, had been trained to destroy each other in the
+amphitheatre for the amusement, not merely of the Roman mob, but of the
+Roman ladies.  Thousands sometimes, in a single day, had been
+
+    “Butchered to make a Roman holiday.”
+
+The training of gladiators had become a science.  By their weapons and
+their armour, and their modes of fighting, they had been distinguished
+into regular classes, of which the antiquaries count up full eighteen:
+Andabatæ, who wore helmets without any opening for the eyes, so that they
+were obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited the mirth of the
+spectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armour;
+Mirmillones, who had the image of a fish upon their helmets, and fought
+in armour with a short sword, matched usually against the Retiarii, who
+fought without armour, and whose weapons were a casting-net and a
+trident.  These, and other species of fighters, were drilled and fed in
+“families” by Lanistæ; or regular trainers, who let them out to persons
+wishing to exhibit a show.  Women, even high-born ladies, had been seized
+in former times with the madness of fighting, and, as shameless as cruel,
+had gone down into the arena to delight with their own wounds and their
+own gore the eyes of the Roman people.
+
+And these things were done, and done too often, under the auspices of the
+gods, and at their most sacred festivals.  So deliberate and organized a
+system of wholesale butchery has never perhaps existed on this earth
+before or since, not even in the worship of those Mexican gods whose
+idols Cortez and his soldiers found fed with human hearts, and the walls
+of their temples crusted with human gore.  Gradually the spirit of the
+Gospel had been triumphing over this abomination.  Ever since the time of
+Tertullian, in the second century, Christian preachers and writers had
+lifted up their voice in the name of humanity.  Towards the end of the
+third century, the Emperors themselves had so far yielded to the voice of
+reason, as to forbid by edicts the gladiatorial fights.  But the public
+opinion of the mob in most of the great cities had been too strong both
+for saints and for emperors.  St. Augustine himself tells us of the
+horrible joy which he, in his youth, had seen come over the vast ring of
+flushed faces at these horrid sights; and in Arsenius’s own time, his
+miserable pupil, the weak Honorius, bethought himself of celebrating once
+more the heathen festival of the Secular Games, and formally to allow
+therein an exhibition of gladiators.  But in the midst of that show
+sprang down into the arena of the Colosseum of Rome an unknown monk, some
+said from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and with his own hands parted the
+combatants in the name of Christ and God.  The mob, baulked for a moment
+of their pleasure, sprang on him, and stoned him to death.  But the crime
+was followed by a sudden revulsion of feeling.  By an edict of the
+Emperor the gladiatorial sports were forbidden for ever; and the
+Colosseum, thenceforth useless, crumbled slowly away into that vast ruin
+which remains unto this day, purified, as men well said, from the blood
+of tens of thousands, by the blood of one true and noble martyr.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERMITS OF ASIA
+
+
+THE impulse which, given by Antony, had been propagated in Asia by his
+great pupil, Hilarion, spread rapidly far and wide.  Hermits took
+possession of the highest peaks of Sinai; and driven from thence, so
+tradition tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which still haunt its
+cliffs, settled at that sheltered spot where now stands the convent of
+St. Catharine.  Massacred again and again by the wild Arab tribes, their
+places were filled up by fresh hermits, and their spiritual descendants
+hold the convent to this day.
+
+Through the rich and luxuriant region of Syria, and especially round the
+richest and most luxurious of its cities, Antioch, hermits settled, and
+bore, by the severity of their lives, a noble witness against the
+profligacy of its inhabitants, who had half renounced the paganism of
+their forefathers without renouncing in the least, it seems, those sins
+which drew down of old the vengeance of a righteous God upon their
+forefathers, whether in Canaan or in Syria itself.
+
+At Antioch, about the year 347, was born the famous Chrysostom, John of
+the Golden Mouth; and near Antioch he became a hermit, and dwelt, so
+legends say, several years alone in the wilderness: till, nerved by that
+hard training, he went forth again into the world to become, whether at
+Antioch or at Constantinople, the bravest as well as the most eloquent
+preacher of righteousness and rebuker of sin which the world had seen
+since the times of St. Paul.  The labours of Chrysostom belong not so
+much to this book as to a general ecclesiastical history: but it must not
+be forgotten that he, like all the great men of that age, had been a
+monk, and kept up his monastic severity, even in the midst of the world,
+until his dying day.
+
+At Nisibis, again, upon the very frontier of Persia, appeared another
+very remarkable personage, known as the Great Jacob or Great St. James.
+Taking (says his admiring biographer, Theodoret of Cyra) to the peaks of
+the loftiest mountains, he passed his life on them, in spring and summer
+haunting the woods, with the sky for a roof, but sheltering himself in
+winter in a cave.  His food was wild fruits and mountain herbs.  He never
+used a fire, and, clothed in a goats’ hair garment, was perhaps the first
+of those Boscoi, or “browsing hermits,” who lived literally like the wild
+animals in the flesh, while they tried to live like angels in the spirit.
+
+Some of the stories told of Jacob savour of that vindictiveness which
+Giraldus Cambrensis, in after years, attributed to the saints in Ireland.
+He was walking one day over the Persian frontier, “to visit the plants of
+true religion” and “bestow on them due care,” when he passed at a
+fountain a troop of damsels washing clothes and treading them with their
+feet.  They seem, according to the story, to have stared at the wild man,
+instead of veiling their faces or letting down their garments.  No act or
+word of rudeness is reported of them: but Jacob’s modesty or pride was so
+much scandalized that he cursed both the fountain and the girls.  The
+fountain of course dried up forthwith, and the damsels’ hair turned grey.
+They ran weeping into the town.  The townsfolk came out, and compelled
+Jacob, by their prayers, to restore the water to their fountain; but the
+grey hair he refused to restore to its original hue unless the damsels
+would come and beg pardon publicly themselves.  The poor girls were
+ashamed to come, and their hair remained grey ever after.
+
+A story like this may raise a smile in some of my readers, in others
+something like indignation or contempt.  But as long as such legends
+remain in these hermit lives, told with as much gravity as any other
+portion of the biography, and eloquently lauded, as this deed is, by
+Bishop Theodoret, as proofs of the holiness and humanity of the saint, an
+honest author is bound to notice some of them at least, and not to give
+an alluring and really dishonest account of these men and their times, by
+detailing every anecdote which can elevate them in the mind of the
+reader, while he carefully omits all that may justly disgust him.
+
+Yet, after all, we are not bound to believe this legend, any more than we
+are bound to believe that when Jacob saw a Persian judge give an unjust
+sentence, he forthwith cursed, not him, but a rock close by, which
+instantly crumbled into innumerable fragments, so terrifying that judge
+that he at once revoked his sentence, and gave a just decision.
+
+Neither, again, need we believe that it was by sending, as men said in
+his own days, swarms of mosquitos against the Persian invaders, that he
+put to flight their elephants and horses: and yet it may be true that, in
+the famous siege of Nisibis, Jacob played the patriot and the valiant
+man.  For when Sapor, the Persian king, came against Nisibis with all his
+forces, with troops of elephants, and huge machines of war, and towers
+full of archers wheeled up to the walls, and at last, damming the river
+itself, turned its current against the fortifications of unburnt brick,
+until a vast breach was opened in the walls, then Jacob, standing in the
+breach, encouraged by his prayers his fellow-townsmen to stop it with
+stone, brick, timber, and whatsoever came to hand; and Sapor, the Persian
+Sultan, saw “that divine man,” and his goats’-hair tunic and cloak seemed
+transformed into a purple robe and royal diadem.  And, whether he was
+seized with superstitious fear, or whether the hot sun or the marshy
+ground had infected his troops with disease, or whether the mosquito
+swarms actually became intolerable, the great King of Persia turned and
+went away.
+
+So Nisibis was saved for a while; to be shamefully surrendered to the
+Persians a few years afterwards by the weak young Emperor Jovian.  Old
+Ammianus Marcellinus, brave soldier as he was, saw with disgust the whole
+body of citizens ordered to quit the city within three days, and “men
+appointed to compel obedience to the order, with threats of death to
+every one who delayed his departure; and the whole city was a scene of
+mourning and lamentation, and in every quarter nothing was heard but one
+universal wail, matrons tearing their hair, and about to be driven from
+the homes in which they had been born and brought up; the mother who had
+lost her children, or the wife who had lost her husband, about to be torn
+from the place rendered sacred by their shades, clinging to their
+doorposts, embracing their thresholds, and pouring forth floods of tears.
+Every road was crowded, each person struggling away as he could.  Many,
+too, loaded themselves with as much of their property as they thought
+they could carry, while leaving behind them abundant and costly
+furniture, which they could not remove for want of beasts of burden.”
+{159}
+
+One treasure, however, they did remove, of which the old soldier Ammianus
+says nothing, and which, had he seen it pass him on the road, he would
+have treated with supreme contempt.  And that, says Theodoret, was the
+holy body of “their prince and defender,” St. James the mountain hermit,
+round which the emigrants chanted, says Theodoret, hymns of regret and
+praise, “for, had he been alive, that city would have never passed into
+barbarian hands.”
+
+There stood with Jacob in the breach, during that siege of Nisibis, a man
+of gentler temperament, a disciple of his, who had received baptism at
+his hands, and who was, like himself, a hermit—Ephraim, or Ephrem, of
+Edessa, as he is commonly called, for, though born at Nisibis, his usual
+home was at Edessa, the metropolis of a Syrian-speaking race.  Into the
+Syrian tongue Ephrem translated the doctrines of the Christian faith and
+the Gospel history, and spread abroad, among the heathen round, a number
+of delicate and graceful hymns, which remain to this day, and of which
+some have lately been translated into English. {160}  Soft, sad, and
+dreamy as they were, they had strength and beauty enough in them to
+supersede the Gnostic hymns of Bardesanes and his son Harmonius, which
+had been long popular among the Syrians; and for centuries afterwards,
+till Christianity was swept away by the followers of Mahomet, the Syrian
+husbandman beguiled his toil with the pious and plaintive melodies of St.
+Ephrem.
+
+But Ephrem was not only a hermit and a poet: he was a preacher and a
+missionary.  If he wept, as it was said, day and night for his own sins
+and the sins of mankind, he did his best at least to cure those sins.  He
+was a demagogue, or leader of the people, for good and not for evil, to
+whom the simple Syrians looked up for many a year as their spiritual
+father.  He died in peace, as he said himself, like the labourer who has
+finished his day’s work, like the wandering merchant who returns to his
+fatherland, leaving nothing behind him save prayers and counsels, for
+“Ephrem,” he added, “had neither wallet nor pilgrim’s staff.”
+
+“His last utterance” (I owe this fact to M. de Montalembert’s book,
+“Moines d’Occident”) “was a protest on behalf of the dignity of man
+redeemed by the Son of God.”
+
+“The young and pious daughter of the Governor of Edessa came weeping to
+receive his latest breath.  He made her swear never again to be carried
+in a litter by slaves, ‘The neck of man,’ he said, ‘should bear no yoke
+save that of Christ.’”  This anecdote is one among many which go to prove
+that from the time that St. Paul had declared the great truth that in
+Christ Jesus was neither bond nor free, and had proclaimed the spiritual
+brotherhood of all men in Christ, slavery, as an institution, was doomed
+to slow but certain death.  But that death was accelerated by the
+monastic movement, wherever it took root.  A class of men who came not to
+be ministered unto, but to minister to others; who prided themselves upon
+needing fewer luxuries than the meanest slaves; who took rank among each
+other and among men not on the ground of race, nor of official position,
+nor of wealth, nor even of intellect, but simply on the ground of virtue,
+was a perpetual protest against slavery and tyranny of every kind; a
+perpetual witness to the world that, whether all men were equal or not in
+the sight of God, the only rank among them of which God would take note,
+would be their rank in goodness.
+
+
+
+
+BASIL
+
+
+ON the south shore of the Black Sea, eastward of Sinope, there dwelt in
+those days, at the mouth of the River Iris, a hermit as gentle and as
+pure as Ephrem of Edessa.  Beside a roaring waterfall, amid deep glens
+and dark forests, with distant glimpses of the stormy sea beyond, there
+lived on bread and water a graceful gentleman, young and handsome; a
+scholar too, who had drunk deeply at the fountains of Pagan philosophy
+and poetry, and had been educated with care at Constantinople and at
+Athens, as well as at his native city of Cæsaræa, in the heart of Asia
+Minor, now dwindled under Turkish misrule into a wretched village.  He
+was heir to great estates; the glens and forests round him were his own:
+and that was the use which he made of them.  On the other side of the
+torrent, his mother and his sister, a maiden of wonderful beauty, lived
+the hermit life, on a footing of perfect equality with their female
+slaves, and the pious women who had joined them.
+
+Basil’s austerities—or rather the severe climate of the Black Sea
+forests—brought him to an early grave.  But his short life was spent well
+enough.  He was a poet, with an eye for the beauty of Nature—especially
+for the beauty of the sea—most rare in those times; and his works are
+full of descriptions of scenery as healthy-minded as they are vivid and
+graceful.
+
+In his travels through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, he had seen the
+hermits, and longed to emulate them; but (to do him justice) his ideal of
+the so-called “religious life” was more practical than those of the
+solitaries of Egypt, who had been his teachers.  “It was the life” (says
+Dean Milman {163}) “of the industrious religious community, not of the
+indolent and solitary anchorite, which to Basil was the perfection of
+Christianity. . . .  The indiscriminate charity of these institutions was
+to receive orphans” (of which there were but too many in those evil days)
+“of all classes, for education and maintenance: but other children only
+with the consent or at the request of parents, certified before
+witnesses; and vows were by no means to be enforced upon these youthful
+pupils.  Slaves who fled to the monasteries were to be admonished and
+sent back to their owners.  There is one reservation” (and that one only
+too necessary then), “that slaves were not bound to obey their master, if
+he should order what is contrary to the law of God.  Industry was to be
+the animating principle of these settlements.  Prayer and psalmody were
+to have their stated hours, but by no means to intrude on those devoted
+to useful labour.  These labours were strictly defined; such as were of
+real use to the community, not those which might contribute to vice or
+luxury.  Agriculture was especially recommended.  The life was in no
+respect to be absorbed in a perpetual mystic communion with the Deity.”
+
+The ideal which Basil set before him was never fulfilled in the East.
+Transported to the West by St. Benedict, “the father of all monks,” it
+became that conventual system which did so much during the early middle
+age, not only for the conversion and civilization, but for the arts and
+the agriculture of Europe.
+
+Basil, like his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianzen, had to go forth from
+his hermitage into the world, and be a bishop, and fight the battles of
+the true faith.  But, as with Gregory, his hermit-training had
+strengthened his soul, while it weakened his body.  The Emperor Valens,
+supporting the Arians against the orthodox, sent to Basil his Prefect of
+the Prætorium, an officer of the highest rank.  The prefect argued,
+threatened; Basil was firm.  “I never met,” said he at last, “such
+boldness.”  “Because,” said Basil, “you never met a bishop.”  The prefect
+returned to his Emperor.  “My lord, we are conquered; this bishop is
+above threats.  We can do nothing but by force.”  The Emperor shrank from
+that crime, and Basil and the orthodoxy of his diocese were saved.  The
+rest of his life and of Gregory’s belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to
+general history, and we need pursue it no further here.
+
+I said that Basil’s idea of what monks should be was never carried out in
+the East, and it cannot be denied that, as the years went on, the hermit
+life took a form less and less practical, and more and more repulsive
+also.  Such men as Antony, Hilarion, Basil, had valued the ascetic
+training, not so much because it had, as they thought, a merit in itself,
+but because it enabled the spirit to rise above the flesh; because it
+gave them strength to conquer their passions and appetites, and leave
+their soul free to think and act.
+
+But their disciples, especially in Syria, seem to have attributed more
+and more merit to the mere act of inflicting want and suffering on
+themselves.  Their souls were darkened, besides, more and more, by a
+doctrine unknown to the Bible, unknown to the early Christians, and one
+which does not seem to have had any strong hold of the mind of Antony
+himself—namely, that sins committed after baptism could only be washed
+away by tears, and expiated by penance; that for them the merits of him
+who died for the sins of the whole world were of little or of no avail.
+
+Therefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set their
+whole minds to punish themselves on earth, always tortured by the dread
+that they were not punishing themselves enough, till they crushed down
+alike body, mind, and soul into an abject superstition, the details of
+which are too repulsive to be written here.  Some of the instances of
+this self-invented misery which are recorded, even as early as the time
+of Theodoret, bishop of Cyra, in the middle of the fifth century, make us
+wonder at the puzzling inconsistencies of the human mind.  Did these poor
+creatures really believe that God could be propitiated by the torture of
+his own creatures?  What sense could Theodoret (who was a good man
+himself) have put upon the words, “God is good,” or “God is love,” while
+he was looking with satisfaction, even with admiration and awe, on
+practices which were more fit for worshippers of Moloch?
+
+Those who think these words too strong, may judge for themselves how far
+they apply to his story of Marana and Cyra.
+
+Marana, then, and Cyra were two young ladies of Berhœa, who had given up
+all the pleasures of life to settle themselves in a roofless cottage
+outside the town.  They had stopped up the door with stones and clay, and
+allowed it only to be opened at the feast of Pentecost.  Around them
+lived certain female slaves who had voluntarily chosen the same life, and
+who were taught and exhorted through a little window by their mistresses;
+or rather, it would seem, by Marana alone: for Cyra (who was bent double
+by her “training”) was never to speak.  Theodoret, as a priest, was
+allowed to enter the sacred enclosure, and found them shrouded from head
+to foot in long veils, so that neither their faces or hands could be
+seen; and underneath their veils, burdened on every limb, poor wretches,
+with such a load of iron chains and rings that a strong man, he says,
+could not have stood under the weight.  Thus had they endured for
+two-and-forty years, exposed to sun and wind, to frost and rain, taking
+no food at times for many days together.  I have no mind to finish the
+picture, and still less to record any of the phrases of rapturous
+admiration with which Bishop Theodoret comments upon their pitiable
+superstition.
+
+
+
+
+SIMEON STYLITES
+
+
+Of all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable, perhaps, was
+the once famous Simeon Stylites—a name almost forgotten, save by
+antiquaries and ecclesiastics, till Mr. Tennyson made it once more
+notorious in a poem as admirable for its savage grandness, as for its
+deep knowledge of human nature.  He has comprehended thoroughly, as it
+seems to me, that struggle between self-abasement and self-conceit,
+between the exaggerated sense of sinfulness and the exaggerated ambition
+of saintly honour, which must have gone on in the minds of these
+ascetics—the temper which could cry out one moment with perfect honesty—
+
+    “Although I be the basest of mankind,
+    From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin;”
+
+at the next—
+
+    “I will not cease to grasp the hope I hold
+    Of saintdom; and to clamour, mourn, and sob,
+    Battering the gates of heaven with storms of prayer.
+    Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin.
+    Let this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,
+    This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years
+    Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,
+                      * * * * * *
+    A sign between the meadow and the cloud,
+    Patient on this tall pillar I have borne
+    Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and snow;
+    And I had hoped that ere this period closed
+    Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest,
+    Denying not these weather-beaten limbs
+    The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm.
+    O take the meaning, Lord: I do not breathe,
+    Not whisper any murmur of complaint.
+    Pain heaped ten hundred-fold to this, were still
+    Less burthen, by ten-hundred-fold, to bear
+    Than were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush’d
+    My spirit flat before thee.”
+
+Admirably also has Mr. Tennyson conceived the hermit’s secret doubt of
+the truth of those miracles, which he is so often told that he has
+worked, that he at last begins to believe that he must have worked them;
+and the longing, at the same time, to justify himself to himself, by
+persuading himself that he has earned miraculous powers.  On this whole
+question of hermit miracles I shall speak at length hereafter.  I have
+given specimens enough of them already, and shall give as few as possible
+henceforth.  There is a sameness about them which may become wearisome to
+those who cannot be expected to believe them.  But what the hermits
+themselves thought of them, is told (at least, so I suspect) only too
+truly by Mr. Tennyson—
+
+       “O Lord, thou knowest what a man I am;
+    A sinful man, conceived and born in sin:
+    ’Tis their own doing; this is none of mine;
+    Lay it not to me.  Am I to blame for this,
+    That here come those who worship me?  Ha! ha!
+    The silly people take me for a saint,
+    And bring me offerings of fruit and flowers:
+    And I, in truth (thou wilt bear witness here),
+    Have all in all endured as much, and more
+    Than many just and holy men, whose names
+    Are register’d and calendar’d for saints.
+       Good people, you do ill to kneel to me.
+    What is it I can have done to merit this?
+    It may be I have wrought some miracles,
+    And cured some halt and maimed: but what of that?
+    It may be, no one, even among the saints,
+    Can match his pains with mine: but what of that?
+    Yet do not rise; for you may look on me,
+    And in your looking you may kneel to God.
+    Speak, is there any of you halt and maimed?
+    I think you know I have some power with heaven
+    From my long penance; let him speak his wish.
+       Yes, I can heal him.  Power goes forth from me.
+    They say that they are heal’d.  Ah, hark! they shout,
+    ‘St. Simeon Stylites!’  Why, if so,
+    God reaps a harvest in me.  O my soul,
+    God reaps a harvest in thee.  If this be,
+    Can I work miracles, and not be saved?
+    This is not told of any.  They were saints.
+    It cannot be but that I shall be saved;
+    Yea, crowned a saint.” . . .
+
+I shall not take the liberty of quoting more: but shall advise all who
+read these pages to study seriously Mr. Tennyson’s poem if they wish to
+understand that darker side of the hermit life which became at last, in
+the East, the only side of it.  For in the East the hermits seem to have
+degenerated, by the time of the Mahomedan conquest, into mere
+self-torturing fakeers, like those who may be seen to this day in
+Hindostan.  The salt lost its savour, and in due tune it was trampled
+under foot; and the armies of the Moslem swept out of the East a
+superstition which had ended by enervating instead of ennobling humanity.
+
+But in justice, not only to myself, but to Mr. Tennyson (whose details of
+Simeon’s asceticism may seem to some exaggerated and impossible), I have
+thought fit to give his life at length, omitting only many of his
+miracles, and certain stories of his penances, which can only excite
+horror and disgust, without edifying the reader.
+
+There were, then, three hermits of this name, often confounded; and all
+alike famous (as were Julian, Daniel, and other Stylites) for standing
+for many years on pillars.  One of the Simeons is said by Moschus to have
+been struck by lightning, and his death to have been miraculously
+revealed to Julian the Stylite, who lived twenty-four miles off.  More
+than one Stylite, belonging to the Monophysite heresy of Severus
+Acephalus, was to be found, according to Moschus, in the East at the
+beginning of the seventh century.  This biography is that of the elder
+Simeon, who died (according to Cedrenus) about 460, after passing some
+forty or fifty years upon pillars of different heights.  There is much
+discrepancy in the accounts, both of his date and of his age; but that
+such a person really existed, and had his imitators, there can be no
+doubt.  He is honoured as a saint alike by the Latin and by the Greek
+Churches.
+
+His life has been written by a disciple of his named Antony, who
+professes to have been with him when he died; and also by Theodoret, who
+knew him well in life.  Both are to be found in Rosweyde, and there seems
+no reason to doubt their authenticity.  I have therefore interwoven them
+both, marking the paragraphs taken from each.
+
+Theodoret, who says that he was born in the village of Gesa, between
+Antioch and Cilicia, calls him that “famous Simeon—that great miracle of
+the whole world, whom all who obey the Roman rule know; whom the Persians
+also know, and the Indians, and Æthiopians; nay, his fame has even spread
+to the wandering Scythians, and taught them his love of toil and love of
+wisdom;” and says that he might be compared with Jacob the patriarch,
+Joseph the temperate, Moses the legislator, David the king and prophet,
+Micaiah the prophet, and the divine men who were like them.  He tells how
+Simeon, as a boy, kept his father’s sheep, and, being forced by heavy
+snow to leave them in the fold, went with his parents to the church, and
+there heard the Gospel which blesses those who mourn and weep, and calls
+those miserable who laugh, and those enviable who have a pure heart.  And
+when he asked a bystander what he would gain who did each of these
+things, the man propounded to him the solitary life, and pointed out to
+him the highest philosophy.
+
+This, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint’s own tongue.  His disciple
+Antony gives the story of his conversion somewhat differently.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+St. Simeon (says Antony) was chosen by God from his birth, and used to
+study how to obey and please him.  Now his father’s name was Susocion,
+and he was brought up by his parents.
+
+When he was thirteen years old, he was feeding his father’s sheep; and
+seeing a church he left the sheep and went in, and heard an epistle being
+read.  And when he asked an elder, “Master, what is that which is read?”
+the old man replied, “For the substance (or very being) of the soul, that
+a man may learn to fear God with his whole heart, and his whole mind.”
+Quoth the blessed Simeon, “What is to fear God?”  Quoth the elder,
+“Wherefore troublest thou me, my son?”  Quoth he, “I inquire of thee, as
+of God.  For I wish to learn what I hear from thee, because I am ignorant
+and a fool.”  The elder answered, “If any man shall have fasted
+continually, and offered prayers every moment, and shall have humbled
+himself to every man, and shall not have loved gold, nor parents, nor
+garments, nor possessions, and if he honours his father and mother, and
+follows the priests of God, he shall inherit the eternal kingdom: but he
+who, on the contrary, does not keep those things, he shall inherit the
+outer darkness which God hath prepared for the devil and his angels.  All
+these things, my son, are heaped together in a monastery.”
+
+Hearing this, the blessed Simeon fell at his feet, saying, “Thou art my
+father and my mother, and my teacher of good works, and guide to the
+kingdom of heaven.  For thou hast gained my soul, which was already being
+sunk in perdition.  May the Lord repay thee again for it.  For these are
+the things which edify.  I will now go into a monastery, where God shall
+choose; and let his will be done on me.”  The elder said, “My son, before
+thou enterest, hear me.  Thou shalt have tribulation; for thou must watch
+and serve in nakedness, and sustain ills without ceasing; and again thou
+shalt be comforted, thou vessel precious to God.”
+
+And forthwith the blessed Simeon, going out of the church, went to the
+monastery of the holy Timotheus, a wonder-working man; and falling down
+before the gate of the monastery, he lay five days, neither eating nor
+drinking.  And on the fifth day, the abbot, coming out, asked him,
+“Whence art thou, my son?  And what parents hast thou, that thou art so
+afflicted?  Or what is thy name, lest perchance thou hast done some
+wrong?  Or perchance thou art a slave, and fleest from thy master?”  Then
+the blessed Simeon said with tears, “By no means, master; but I long to
+be a servant of God, if he so will, because I wish to save my lost soul.
+Bid me, therefore, enter the monastery, and leave all; and send me away
+no more.”  Then the Abbot, taking his hand, introduced him into the
+monastery, saying to the brethren, “My sons, behold I deliver you this
+brother; teach him the canons of the monastery.”  Now he was in the
+monastery about four months, serving all without complaint, in which he
+learnt the whole Psalter by heart, receiving every day divine food.  But
+the food which he took with his brethren he gave away secretly to the
+poor, not caring for the morrow.  So the brethren ate at even: but he
+only on the seventh day.
+
+But one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took the rope from
+the bucket with which the brethren drew water, and wound it round his
+body from his loins to his neck: and going in, said to the brethren, “I
+went out to draw water, and found no rope on the bucket.”  And they said,
+“Hold thy peace, brother, lest the abbot know it; till the thing has
+passed over.”  But his body was wounded by the tightness and roughness of
+the rope, because it cut him to the bone, and sank into his flesh till it
+was hardly seen.  But one day, some of the brethren going out, found him
+giving his food to the poor; and when they returned, said to the abbot,
+“Whence hast thou brought us that man?  We cannot abstain like him, for
+he fasts from Lord’s day to Lord’s day, and gives away his food.” . . .
+Then the abbot, going out, found as was told him, and said, “Son, what is
+it which the brethren tell of thee?  Is it not enough for thee to fast as
+we do?  Hast thou not heard the Gospel, saying of teachers, that the
+disciple is not above his master?” . . . The blessed Simeon stood and
+answered nought.  And the abbot, being angry, bade strip him, and found
+the rope round him, so that only its outside appeared; and cried with a
+loud voice, saying, “Whence has this man come to us, wanting to destroy
+the rule of the monastery?  I pray thee depart hence, and go whither thou
+wiliest.”  And with great trouble they took off the rope, and his flesh
+with it, and taking care of him, healed him.
+
+But after he was healed he went out of the monastery, no man knowing of
+it, and entered a deserted tank, in which was no water, where unclean
+spirits dwelt.  And that very night it was revealed to the abbot, that a
+multitude of people surrounded the monastery with clubs and swords,
+saying, “Give us Simeon the servant of God, Timotheus; else we will burn
+thee with thy monastery, because thou hast angered a just man.”  And when
+he woke, he told the brethren the vision, and how he was much disturbed
+thereby.  And another night he saw a multitude of strong men standing and
+saying, “Give us Simeon the servant of God; for he is beloved by God and
+the angels: why hast thou vexed him?  He is greater than thou before God;
+for all the angels are sorry on his behalf.  And God is minded to set him
+on high in the world, that by him many signs may be done, such as no man
+has done.”  Then the abbot, rising, said with great fear to the brethren,
+“Seek me that man, and bring him hither, lest perchance we all die on his
+account.  He is truly a saint of God, for I have heard and seen great
+wonders of him.”  Then all the monks went out and searched, but in vain,
+and told the abbot how they had sought him everywhere, save in the
+deserted tank. . . .  Then the abbot went, with five brethren, to the
+tank.  And making a prayer, he went down into it with the brethren.  And
+the blessed Simeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying, “I beg you,
+servants of God, let me alone one hour, that I may render up my spirit;
+for yet a little, and it will fail.  But my soul is very weary, because I
+have angered the Lord.”  But the abbot said to him, “Come, servant of
+God, that we may take thee to the monastery; for I know concerning thee
+that thou art a servant of God.”  But when he would not, they brought him
+by force to the monastery.  And all fell at his feet, weeping, and
+saying, “We have sinned against thee, servant of God; forgive us.”  But
+the blessed Simeon groaned, saying, “Wherefore do ye burden an unhappy
+man and a sinner?  You are the servants of God, and my fathers.”  And he
+stayed there about one year.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+After this (says Theodoret) he came to the Telanassus, under the peak of
+the mountain on which he lived till his death; and having found there a
+little house, he remained in it shut up for three years.  But eager
+always to increase the riches of virtue, he longed, in imitation of the
+divine Moses and Elias, to fast forty days; and tried to persuade Bassus,
+who was then set over the priests in the villages, to leave nothing
+within by him, but to close up the door with clay.  He spoke to him of
+the difficulty, and warned him not to think that a violent death was a
+virtue.  “Put by me then, father,” he said, “ten loaves, and a cruse of
+water, and if I find my body need sustenance, I will partake of them.”
+At the end of the days, that wonderful man of God, Bassus, removed the
+clay, and going in, found the food and water untouched, and Simeon lying
+unable to speak or move.  Getting a sponge, he moistened and opened his
+lips and then gave him the symbols of the divine mysteries; and,
+strengthened by them, he arose, and took some food, chewing little by
+little lettuces and succory, and such like.
+
+From that time, for twenty-eight years (says Theodoret), he had remained
+fasting continually for forty days at a time.  But custom had made it
+more easy to him.  For on the first days he used to stand and praise God;
+after that, when through emptiness he could stand no longer, he used to
+sit and perform the divine office; and on the last day, even lie down.
+For when his strength failed slowly, he was forced to lie half dead.  But
+after he stood on the column he could not bear to lie down, but invented
+another way by which he could stand.  He fastened a beam to the column,
+and tied himself to it by ropes, and so passed the forty days.  But
+afterwards, when he had received greater grace from on high, he did not
+want even that help: but stood for the forty days, taking no food, but
+strengthened by alacrity of soul and divine grace.
+
+When he had passed three years in that little house, he took possession
+of the peak which has since been so famous; and when he had commanded a
+wall to be made round him, and procured an iron chain, twenty cubits
+long, he fastened one end of it to a great stone, and the other to his
+right foot, so that he could not, if he wished, leave those bounds.
+There he lived, continually picturing heaven to himself, and forcing
+himself to contemplate things which are above the heavens; for the iron
+bond did not check the flight of his thoughts.  But when the wonderful
+Meletius, to whom the care of the episcopate of Antioch was then
+commended (a man of sense and prudence, and adorned with shrewdness of
+intellect), told him that the iron was superfluous, since the will is
+able enough to impose on the body the chains of reason, he gave way, and
+obeyed his persuasion.  And having sent for a smith, he bade him strike
+off the chain.
+
+[Here follow some painful details unnecessary to be translated.]
+
+When, therefore, his fame was flying far and wide everywhere, all ran
+together, not only the neighbours, but those who were many days’ journey
+off, some bringing the palsied, some begging health for the sick, some
+that they might become fathers, and all wishing to receive from him what
+they had not received from nature; and when they had received, and gained
+their request, they went back joyful, proclaiming the benefits they had
+obtained, and sending many more to beg the same.  So, as all are coming
+up from every quarter, and the road is like a river, one may see gathered
+in that place an ocean of men, which receives streams from every side;
+not only of those who live in our region, but Ishmaelites, and Persians,
+and the Armenians who are subject to them, and Iberi, and Homerites, and
+those who dwell beyond them.  Many have come also from the extreme west,
+Spaniards, and Britons, and Gauls who live between the two.  Of Italy it
+is superfluous to speak; for they say that at Rome the man has become so
+celebrated that they have put little images of him in all the porches of
+the shops, providing thereby for themselves a sort of safeguard and
+security.
+
+When, therefore, they came innumerable (for all tried to touch him, and
+receive some blessing from those skin garments of his), thinking it in
+the first place absurd and unfit that such exceeding honour should be
+paid him, and next, disliking the labour of the business, devised that
+station on the pillar, bidding one be built, first of six cubits, then of
+twelve, next of twenty-two, and now of thirty-six.  For he longs to fly
+up to heaven, and be freed from this earthly conversation.
+
+But I believe that this station was made not without divine counsel.
+Wherefore I exhort fault-finders to bridle their tongue, and not let it
+rashly loose, but rather consider that the Lord has often devised such
+things, that he might profit those who were too slothful.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+In proof of which, Theodoret quotes the examples of Isaiah, Hosea, and
+Ezekiel; and then goes on to say how God in like manner ordained this new
+and admirable spectacle, by the novelty of it drawing all to look, and
+exhibiting to those who came, a lesson which they could trust.  For the
+novelty of the spectacle (he says) is a worthy warrant for the teaching;
+and he who came to see goes away instructed in divine things.  And as
+those whose lot it is to rule over men, after a certain period of time,
+change the impressions on their coins, sometimes stamping them with
+images of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes of angels, and trying, by
+a new mark, to make the gold more precious; so the King of all, adding to
+piety and true religion these new and manifold modes of living, as
+certain stamps on coin, excites to praise the tongues not only of the
+children of faith, but of those who are diseased with unbelief.  And that
+so it is, not only words bear witness, but facts proclaim aloud.  For
+many myriads of Ishmaelites, who were enslaved in the darkness of
+impiety, have been illuminated by that station on the column.  For this
+most shining lamp, set as it were upon a candlestick, sent forth all
+round its rays, like of the sun: and one may see (as I said) Iberi
+coming, and Persians, and Armenians, and accepting divine baptism.  But
+the Ishmaelites, coming by tribes, 200 and 300 at a time, and sometimes
+even 1,000, deny, with shouts, the error of their fathers; and breaking
+in pieces, before that great illuminator, the images which they had
+worshipped, and renouncing the orgies of Venus (for they had received
+from ancient times the worship of that dæmon), they receive the divine
+sacraments, and take laws from that holy tongue, bidding farewell to
+their ancestral rites, and renouncing the eating of wild asses and
+camels.  And this I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard them
+renouncing the impiety of their fathers, and assenting to the Evangelic
+doctrine.
+
+But once I was in the greatest danger: for he himself told them to go to
+me, and receive priestly benediction, saying that they would thence
+obtain great advantage.  But they, having run together in somewhat too
+barbarous fashion, some dragged me before, some behind, some sideways;
+and those who were further off, scrambling over the others, and
+stretching out their hands, plucked my beard, or seized my clothes; and I
+should have been stifled by their too warm onset, had not he, shouting
+out, dispersed them all.  Such usefulness has that column, which is
+mocked at by scornful men, poured forth; and so great a ray of the
+knowledge of God has it sent forth into the minds of barbarians.
+
+I know also of his having done another thing of this kind:—One tribe was
+beseeching the divine man, that he would send forth some prayer and
+blessing for their chief: but another tribe which was present retorted
+that he ought not to bless that chief, but theirs; for the one was a most
+unjust man, but the other averse to injustice.  And when there had been a
+great contention and barbaric wrangling between them, they attacked each
+other.  But I, using many words, kept exhorting them to be quiet, seeing
+that the divine man was able enough to give a blessing to both.  But the
+one tribe kept saying, that the first chief ought not to have it; and the
+other tribe trying to deprive the second chief of it.  Then he, by
+threatening them from above, and calling them dogs, hardly stilled the
+quarrel.  This I have told, wishing to show their great faith.  For they
+would not have thus gone mad against each other, had they not believed
+that the divine man’s blessing possesses some very great power.
+
+I saw another miracle, which was very celebrated.  One coming up (he,
+too, was a chief of a Saracen tribe) besought the divine personage that
+he would help a man whose limbs had given way in paralysis on the road;
+and he said the misfortune had fallen on him in Callinicus, which is a
+very large camp.  When he was brought into the midst, the saint bade him
+renounce the impiety of his forefathers; and when he willingly obeyed, he
+asked him if he believed in the Father, the only-begotten Son, and the
+Holy Spirit.  And when he confessed that he believed—“Believing,” said
+he, “in their names, Arise.”  And when the man had risen, he bade him
+carry away his chief (who was a very large man) on his shoulders to his
+tent.  He took him up, and went away forthwith; while those who were
+present raised their voices in praise of God.  This he commanded,
+imitating the Lord, who bade the paralytic carry his bed.  Let no man
+call this imitation tyranny.  For his saying is, “He who believeth in me,
+the works which I do, he shall do also, and more than these shall he do.”
+And, indeed, we have seen the fulfilment of this promise.  For though the
+shadow of the Lord never worked a miracle, the shadow of the great Peter
+both loosed death, and drove out diseases, and put dæmons to flight.  But
+the Lord it was who did also these miracles by his servants; and now
+likewise, using his name, the divine Simeon works his innumerable
+wonders.
+
+It befell also that another wonder was worked, by no means inferior to
+the last.  For among those who had believed in the saving name of the
+Lord Christ, an Ishmaelite, of no humble rank, had made a vow to God,
+with Simeon as witness.  Now his promise was this, that he would
+henceforth to the end abstain from animal food.  Transgressing this
+promise once, I know not how, he slew a bird, and dared to eat it.  But
+God being minded to bring him by reproof to conversion, and to honour his
+servant, who was a witness to the broken vow, the flesh of the bird was
+changed into the nature of a stone, so that, even if he wished, he could
+not thenceforth eat it.  For how could he, when the body meant for food
+had turned to stone?  The barbarian, stupified by this unexpected sight,
+came with great haste to the holy man, bringing to the light the sin
+which he had hidden, and proclaimed his transgression to all, begging
+pardon from God, and invoking the help of the saint, that by his
+all-powerful prayers he might loose him from the bonds of his sin.  Now
+many saw that miracle, and felt that the part of the bird about the
+breast consisted of bone and stone.
+
+But I was not only an ear-witness of his wonders, but also an ear-witness
+of his prophecies concerning futurity.  For that drought which came, and
+the great dearth of that year, and the famine and pestilence which
+followed together, he foretold two years before, saying that he saw a rod
+which was laid on man, stripes which would be inflicted by it.  Moreover,
+he at another time foretold an invasion of locusts, and that it would
+bring no great harm, because the divine clemency soon follows punishment.
+But when thirty days were past, an innumerable multitude of them hung
+aloft, so that they even cut off the sun’s rays and threw a shadow; and
+that we all saw plainly: but it only damaged the cattle pastures, and in
+no wise hurt the food of man.  To me, too, who was attacked by a certain
+person, he signified that the quarrel would end ere a fortnight was past;
+and I learned the truth of the prediction by experience.
+
+Moreover there were seen by him once two rods, which came down from the
+skies, and fell on the eastern and western lands.  Now the divine man
+said that they signified the rising of the Persian and Scythian nations
+against the Romans; and told the vision to those who were by, and with
+many tears and assiduous prayers, warded that disaster, the threat
+whereof hung over the earth.  Certainly the Persian nation, when already
+armed and prepared to invade the Romans, was kept back (the divine will
+being against them) from their attempt, and occupied at home with their
+own troubles.  But while I know many other cases of this kind, I shall
+pass them over to avoid prolixity.  These are surely enough to show the
+spiritual contemplation of his mind.
+
+His fame was great, also, with the King of the Persians; for as the
+ambassadors told, who came to him, he diligently inquired what was his
+life, and what his miracles.  But they say that the King’s wife also
+begged oil honoured by his blessing, and accepted it as the greatest of
+gifts.  Moreover, all the King’s courtiers, being moved by his fame, and
+having heard many slanders against him from the Magi, inquired
+diligently, and having learnt the truth, called him a divine man; while
+the rest of the crowd, coming to the muleteers and servants and soldiers,
+both offered money, and begged for a share in the oil of benediction.
+The Queen, too, of the Ishmaelites, longing to have a child, sent first
+some of her most noble subjects to the saint, beseeching him that she
+might become a mother.  And when her prayer had been granted, and she had
+her heart’s desire, she took the son who had been born, and went to the
+divine old man; and (because women were not allowed to approach him) sent
+the babe, entreating his blessing on it . . . [Here Theodoret puts into
+the Queen’s mouth words which it is unnecessary to quote.]
+
+But how long do I strive to measure the depths of the Atlantic sea?  For
+as they are unfathomable by man, so do the things which he does daily
+surpass narration.  I, however, admire above all these things his
+endurance; for night and day he stands, so as to be seen by all.  For as
+the doors are taken away, and a large part of the wall around pulled
+down, he is set forth as a new and wondrous spectacle to all; now
+standing long, now bowing himself frequently, and offering adoration to
+God.  Many of those who stand by count these adorations; and once a man
+with me, when he had counted 1,244, and then missed, gave up counting:
+but always, when he bows himself, he touches his feet with his forehead.
+For as his stomach takes food only once in the week, and that very
+little—no more than is received in the divine sacraments,—his back admits
+of being easily bent. . . .  But nothing which happens to him overpowers
+his philosophy; he bears nobly both voluntary and involuntary pains, and
+conquers both by readiness of will.
+
+There came once from Arabena a certain good man, and honoured with the
+ministry of Christ.  He, when he had come to that mountain peak,—“Tell
+me,” he cried, “by the very truth which converts the human race to
+itself—Art thou a man, or an incorporeal nature?”  But when all there
+were displeased with the question, the saint bade them all be silent, and
+said to him, “Why hast thou asked me this?”  He answered, “Because I hear
+every one saying publicly, that thou neither eatest nor sleepest; but
+both are properties of man, and no one who has a human nature could have
+lived without food and sleep.”  Then the saint bade them set a ladder to
+the column, and him to come up; and first to look at his hands, and then
+feel inside his cloak of skins; and to see not only his feet, but a
+severe wound.  But when he saw that he was a man, and the size of that
+wound, and learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came down and told
+me all.
+
+At the public festivals he showed an endurance of another kind.  For from
+the setting of the sun till it had come again to the eastern horizon, he
+stood all night with hands uplift to heaven, neither soothed with sleep
+nor conquered by fatigue.  But in toils so great, and so great a
+magnitude of deeds, and multitude of miracles, his self-esteem is as
+moderate as if he were in dignity the least of all men.  Beside his
+modesty, he is easy of access of speech, and gracious, and answers every
+man who speaks to him, whether he be handicraftsman, beggar, or rustic.
+And from the bounteous God he has received also the gift of teaching, and
+making his exhortations twice a day, he delights the ears of those who
+hear, discoursing much on grace, and setting forth the instructions of
+the Divine Spirit to look up and fly toward heaven, and depart from the
+earth, and imagine the kingdom which is expected, and fear the threats of
+Gehenna, and despise earthly things, and wait for things to come.  He may
+be seen, too, acting as judge, and giving right and just decisions.
+This, and the like, is done after the ninth hour.  For all night, and
+through the day to the ninth hour, he prays perpetually.  After that, he
+first sets forth the divine teaching to those who are present; then
+having heard each man’s petition, after he has performed some cures, he
+settles the quarrels of those between whom there is any dispute.  About
+sunset he begins the rest of his converse with God.  But though he is
+employed in this way, and does all this, he does not give up the care of
+the holy Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks,
+sometimes checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to flight
+the bands of heretics, and sometimes sending messages concerning these
+last to the Emperor; sometimes, too, stirring up rulers to zeal for God,
+and sometimes exhorting the pastors of the Churches to bestow more care
+upon their flocks.
+
+I have gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by one drop,
+and to give those who meet with my writing a taste on the finger of the
+sweetness of the honey.  But there remains (as is to be expected) much
+more; and if he should live longer, he will probably add still greater
+wonders. . . .
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Thus far Theodoret.  Antony gives some other details of Simeon’s life
+upon the column.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+The devil, he says, in envy transformed himself into the likeness of an
+angel, shining in splendour, with fiery horses, and a fiery chariot, and
+appeared close to the column on which the blessed Simeon stood, and shone
+with glory like an angel.  And the devil said with bland speeches,
+“Simeon, hear my words, which the Lord hath commanded thee.  He has sent
+me, his angel, with a chariot and horses of fire, that I may carry thee
+away, as I carried Elias.  For thy time is come.  Do thou, in like wise,
+ascend now with me into the chariot, because the Lord of heaven and earth
+has sent it down.  Let us ascend together into the heavens, that the
+angels and archangels may see thee, with Mary the mother of the Lord,
+with the Apostles and martyrs, the confessors and prophets; because they
+rejoice to see thee, that thou mayest pray to the Lord, who hast made
+thee after his own image.  Verily I have spoken to thee: delay not to
+ascend.”  Simeon, having ended his prayer, said, “Lord, wilt thou carry
+me, a sinner, into heaven?”  And lifting his right foot that he might
+step into the chariot, he lifted also his right hand, and made the sign
+of Christ.  When he had made the sign of the cross, forthwith the devil
+appeared nowhere, but vanished with his device, as dust before the face
+of the wind.  Then understood Simeon that it was an art of the devil.
+
+Having recovered himself, therefore, he said to his foot, “Thou shalt not
+return back hence, but stand here until my death, when the Lord shall
+send for me a sinner.”
+
+[Here follow more painful stories, which had best be omitted.]
+
+But after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to see him,
+but was forbidden, because no woman entered that place.  But when the
+blessed Simeon heard the voice of his mother, he said to her, “Bear up,
+my mother, a little while, and we shall see each other, if God will.”
+But she, hearing this, began to weep, and tearing her hair, rebuked him,
+saying, “Son, why hast thou done this?  In return for the body in which I
+bore thee, thou hast filled me full of grief.  For the milk with which I
+nourished thee, thou hast given me tears.  For the kiss with which I
+kissed thee, thou hast given me bitter pangs of heart.  For the grief and
+labour which I have suffered, thou hast laid on me cruel stripes.”  And
+she spoke so much that she made us all weep.  The blessed Simeon, hearing
+the voice of her who bore him, put his face in his hands and wept
+bitterly; and commanded her, saying, “Lady mother, be still a little
+time, and we shall see each other in eternal rest.”  But she began to
+say, “By Christ, who formed thee, if there is a probability of seeing
+thee, who hast been so long a stranger to me, let me see thee; or if not,
+let me only hear thy voice and die at once; for thy father is dead in
+sorrow because of thee.  And now do not destroy me for very bitterness,
+my son.”  Saying this, for sorrow and weeping she fell asleep; for during
+three days and three nights she had not ceased entreating him.  Then the
+blessed Simeon prayed the Lord for her, and she forthwith gave up the
+ghost.
+
+But they took up her body, and brought it where he could see it.  And he
+said, weeping, “The Lord receive thee in joy, because thou hast endured
+tribulation for me, and borne me, and nursed and nourished me with
+labour.”  And as he said that, his mother’s countenance perspired, and
+her body was stirred in the sight of us all.  But he, lifting up his eyes
+to heaven, said, “Lord God of virtues, who sittest above the cherubim,
+and searchest the foundations of the abyss, who knewest Adam before he
+was; who hast promised the riches of the kingdom of heaven to those who
+love thee; who didst speak to Moses in the bush of fire; who blessedst
+Abraham our father; who bringest into Paradise the souls of the just, and
+sinkest the souls of the impious to perdition; who didst humble the
+lions, and mitigate for thy servants the strong fires of the Chaldees;
+who didst nourish Elisha by the ravens which brought him food—receive her
+soul in peace, and put her in the place of the holy fathers, for thine is
+the power for ever and ever.”
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+Antony then goes on to relate the later years of the saint’s life.
+
+He tells how Simeon, some time after this, ascended the column of forty
+cubits; how a great dragon (serpent) crawled towards it, and coiled round
+it, entreating (so it seemed) to be freed from a spike of wood which had
+entered its eye; and how, St. Simeon took pity on it, he caused the spike
+(which was a cubit long) to come out.
+
+He tells how a woman, drinking water from a jar at night, swallowed a
+snake unawares, which grew within her, till she was brought to the
+blessed Simeon, who commanded some of the water of the monastery to be
+given her; on which the serpent crawled out of her mouth, three cubits
+long, and burst immediately; and was hung up there seven days, as a
+testimony to many.
+
+He tells how, when there was great want of water, St. Simeon prayed till
+the earth opened on the east of the monastery, and a cave full of water
+was discovered, which had never failed them to that day.
+
+He tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the saint, saw
+a doe go by, and commanded her to stop, “by the prayers of St. Simeon;”
+which when she had done, they killed and ate her, and came to St. Simeon
+with the skin.  But they were all struck dumb, and hardly cured after two
+years.  And the skin of the doe they hung up, for a testimony to many.
+
+He tells of a huge leopard, which slew men and cattle all around; and how
+St. Simeon bade sprinkle in his haunts soil or water from the monastery;
+and when men went again, they found the leopard dead.
+
+He tells how, when St. Simeon cured any one, he bade him go home, and
+honour God who had healed him, and not dare to say that Simeon had cured
+him, lest a worse thing should suddenly come to him; and not to presume
+to swear by the name of the Lord, for it was a grave sin; but to swear,
+“whether justly or unjustly, by him, lowly and a sinner.  Wherefore all
+the Easterns, and barbarous tribes in those regions, swear by Simeon.”
+
+He tells how a robber from Antioch, Jonathan by name, fled to St. Simeon,
+and embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and saying how he had
+committed every crime, and had come thither to repent.  And how the saint
+said, “Of such is the kingdom of heaven: but do not try to tempt me, lest
+thou be found again in the sins which thou hast cast away.”  Then came
+the officials from Antioch, demanding that he should be given up, to be
+cast to the wild beasts.  But Simeon answered, “My sons, I brought him
+not hither, but One greater than I; for he helps such as this man, and of
+such is the kingdom of heaven.  But if you can enter, carry him hence; I
+cannot give him up, for I fear him who has sent the man to me.”  And
+they, struck with fear, went away.  Then Jonathan lay for seven days
+embracing the column, and then asked the saint leave to go.  The saint
+asked him if he were going back to sin?  “No, lord,” he said; “but my
+time is fulfilled,” and straightway he gave up the ghost; and when
+officials came again from Antioch, demanding him, Simeon replied: “He who
+brought him came with a multitude of the heavenly host, and is able to
+send into Tartarus your city, and all who dwell in it, who also has
+reconciled this man to himself; and I was afraid lest he should slay me
+suddenly.  Therefore weary me no more, a humble man and poor.”
+
+But after a few years (says Antony) it befell one day that he bowed
+himself in prayer, and remained so three days—that is, the Friday, the
+Sabbath, and the Lord’s day.  Then I was terrified, and went up to him,
+and stood before his face, and said to him, “Master, arise: bless us; for
+the people have been waiting three days and three nights for a blessing
+from thee.”  And he answered me not; and I said again to him: “Wherefore
+dost thou grieve me, lord? or in what have I offended?  I beseech thee,
+put out thy hand to me; or, perchance, thou hast already departed from
+us?”
+
+And seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one; for I feared
+to touch him: and, standing about half an hour, I bent down, and put my
+ear to listen; and there was no breathing: but a fragrance as of many
+scents rose from his body.  And so I understood that he rested in the
+Lord; and, turning faint, I wept most bitterly; and, bending down, I
+kissed his eyes, and clasped his beard and hair, and reproaching him, I
+said: “To whom dost thou leave me, lord? or where shall I seek thy
+angelic doctrine?  What answer shall I make for thee? or whose soul will
+look at this column, without thee, and not grieve?  What answer shall I
+make to the sick, when they come here to seek thee, and find thee not?
+What shall I say, poor creature that I am?  To-day I see thee; to-morrow
+I shall look right and left, and not find thee.  And what covering shall
+I put upon thy column?  Woe to me, when folk shall come from afar,
+seeking thee, and shall not find thee!”  And, for much sorrow, I fell
+asleep.
+
+And forthwith he appeared to me, and said: “I will not leave this column,
+nor this place, and this blessed mountain, where I was illuminated.  But
+go down, satisfy the people, and send word secretly to Antioch, lest a
+tumult arise.  For I have gone to rest, as the Lord willed: but do thou
+not cease to minister in this place, and the Lord shall repay thee thy
+wages in heaven.”
+
+But, rising from sleep, I said, in terror, “Master, remember me in thy
+holy rest.”  And, lifting up his garments, I fell at his feet, and kissed
+them; and, holding his hands, I laid them on my eyes, saying, “Bless me,
+I beseech thee, my lord!”  And again I wept, and said, “What relics shall
+I carry away from thee as memorials?”  And as I said that his body was
+moved; therefore I was afraid to touch him.
+
+And, that no one might know, I came down quickly, and sent a faithful
+brother to the Bishop at Antioch.  He came at once with three Bishops,
+and with them Ardaburius, the master of the soldiers, with his people,
+and stretched curtains round the column, and fastened their clothes
+around it.  For they were cloth of gold.
+
+And when they laid him down by the altar before the column, and gathered
+themselves together, birds flew round the column, crying, and as it were
+lamenting, in all men’s sight; and the wailing of the people and of the
+cattle resounded for seven miles away; yea, even the hills, and the
+fields, and the trees were sad around that place; for everywhere a dark
+cloud hung about it.  And I watched an angel coming to visit him; and,
+about the seventh hour, seven old men talked with that angel, whose face
+was like lightning, and his garments as snow.  And I watched his voice,
+in fear and trembling, as long as I could hear it; but what he said I
+cannot tell.
+
+But when the holy Simeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of Antioch, wishing
+to take some of his beard for a blessing, stretched out his hand; and
+forthwith it was dried up; and prayers were made to God for him, and so
+his hand was restored again.
+
+Then, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to Antioch, with psalms
+and hymns.  But all the people round that region wept, because the
+protection of such mighty relics was taken from them, and because the
+Bishop of Antioch had sworn that no man should touch his body.
+
+But when they came to the fifth milestone from Antioch, to the village
+which is called Meroë, no one could move him.  Then a certain man, deaf
+and dumb for forty years, who had committed a very great crime, suddenly
+fell down before the bier, and began to cry, “Thou art well come, servant
+of God; for thy coming will save me: and if I shall obtain the grace to
+live, I will serve thee all the days of my life.”  And, rising, he caught
+hold of one of the mules which carried the bier, and forthwith moved
+himself from that place.  And so the man was made whole from that hour.
+
+Then all going out of the city of Antioch received the body of the holy
+Simeon on gold and silver, with psalms and hymns, and with many lamps
+brought it into the greater church, and thence to another church, which
+is called Penitence.  Moreover, many virtues are wrought at his tomb,
+more than in his life; and the man who was made whole served there till
+the day of his death.  But many offered treasures to the Bishop of
+Antioch for the faith, begging relics from the body: but, on account of
+his oath, he never gave them.
+
+I, Antony, lowly and a sinner, have set forth briefly, as far as I could,
+this lesson.  But blessed is he who has this writing in a book, and reads
+it in the church and house of God; and when he shall have brought it to
+his memory, he shall receive a reward from the Most High; to whom is
+honour, power, and virtue, for ever and ever.  Amen.
+
+                                * * * * *
+
+After such a fantastic story as this of Simeon, it is full time (some
+readers may have thought that it was full time long since) to give my own
+opinion of the miracles, visions, dæmons, and other portents which occur
+in the lives of these saints.  I have refrained from doing so as yet,
+because I wished to begin by saying everything on behalf of these old
+hermits which could honestly be said, and to prejudice my readers’ minds
+in their favour rather than against them; because I am certain that if we
+look on them merely with scorn and ridicule,—if we do not acknowledge and
+honour all in them which was noble, virtuous, and honest,—we shall never
+be able to combat their errors, either in our own hearts or in those of
+our children: and that we may have need to do so is but too probable.  In
+this age, as in every other age of materialism and practical atheism, a
+revulsion in favour of superstition is at hand; I may say is taking place
+round us now.  Doctrines are tolerated as possibly true,—persons are
+regarded with respect and admiration, who would have been looked on, even
+fifty years ago, if not with horror, yet with contempt, as beneath the
+serious notice of educated English people.  But it is this very contempt
+which has brought about the change of opinion concerning them.  It has
+been discovered that they were not altogether so absurd as they seemed;
+that the public mind, in its ignorance, has been unjust to them; and, in
+hasty repentance for that injustice, too many are ready to listen to
+those who will tell them that these things are not absurd at all—that
+there is no absurdity in believing that the leg-bone of St. Simon Stock
+may possess miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the departed
+communicate with their friends by rapping on the table.  The ugly
+after-crop of superstition which is growing up among us now is the just
+and natural punishment of our materialism—I may say, of our practical
+atheism.  For those who will not believe in the real spiritual world, in
+which each man’s soul stands face to face all day long with Almighty God,
+the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, are sure at last to crave after
+some false spiritual world, and seek, like the evil and profligate
+generation of the Jews, after visible signs and material wonders.  And
+those who will not believe that the one true and living God is above
+their path and about their bed and spieth out all their ways, and that in
+him they live and move and have their being, are but too likely at last
+to people with fancied saints and dæmons that void in the imagination and
+in the heart which their own unbelief has made.
+
+Are we then to suppose that these old hermits had lost faith in God?  On
+the contrary, they were the only men in that day who had faith in God.
+And, if they had faith in any other things or persons beside God, they
+merely shared in the general popular ignorance and mistakes of their own
+age; and we must not judge those who, born in an age of darkness, were
+struggling earnestly toward the light, as we judge those who, born in an
+age of scientific light, are retiring of their own will back into the
+darkness.
+
+Before I enter upon the credibility of these alleged saints’ miracles, I
+must guard my readers carefully from supposing that I think miracles
+impossible.  Heaven forbid.  He would be a very rash person who should do
+that, in a world which swarms with greater wonders than those recorded in
+the biography of a saint.  For, after all, which is more wonderful, that
+God should be able to restore the dead to life, or that he should be able
+to give life at all?  Again, as for these miracles being contrary to our
+experience, that is no very valid argument against them; for equally
+contrary to our experience is every new discovery of science, every
+strange phenomenon among plants and animals, every new experiment in a
+chemical lecture.
+
+The more we know of science the more we must confess, that nothing is too
+strange to be true: and therefore we must not blame or laugh at those who
+in old times believed in strange things which were not true.  They had an
+honest and rational sense of the infinite and wonderful nature of the
+universe, and of their own ignorance about it; and they were ready to
+believe anything, as the truly wise man will be ready also.  Only, from
+ignorance of the laws of the universe, they did not know what was likely
+to be true and what was not; and therefore they believed many things
+which experience has proved to be false; just as Seba or any of the early
+naturalists were ready to believe in six-legged dragons, or in the fatal
+power of the basilisk’s eye; fancies which, if they had been facts, would
+not have been nearly as wonderful as the transformation of the commonest
+insect, or the fertilization of the meanest weed: but which are rejected
+now, not because they are too wonderful, but simply because experience
+has proved them to be untrue.  And experience, it must be remembered, is
+the only sound test of truth.  As long as men will settle beforehand for
+themselves, without experience, what they ought to see, so long will they
+be perpetually fancying that they or others have seen it; and their
+faith, as it is falsely called, will delude not only their reason, but
+their very hearing, sight, and touch.
+
+In this age we see no supernatural prodigies, because there are none to
+see; and when we are told that the reason why we see no prodigies is
+because we have no faith, we answer (if we be sensible), Just so.  As
+long as people had faith, in plain English believed, that they could be
+magically cured of a disease, they thought that they or others were so
+cured.  As long as they believed that ghosts could be seen, every silly
+person saw them.  As long as they believed that dæmons transformed
+themselves into an animal’s shape, they said, “The devil croaked at me
+this morning in the shape of a raven; and therefore my horse fell with
+me.”  As long as they believed that witches could curse them, they
+believed that an old woman in the next parish had overlooked them, their
+cattle, and their crops; and that therefore they were poor, diseased, and
+unfortunate.  These dreams, which were common among the peasants in
+remote districts five-and-twenty years ago, have vanished, simply from
+the spread (by the grace of God, as I hold) of an inductive habit of
+mind; of the habit of looking coolly, boldly, carefully, at facts; till
+now, even among the most ignorant peasantry, the woman who says that she
+has seen a ghost is likely not to be complimented on her assertion.  But
+it does not follow that that woman’s grandmother, when she said that she
+saw a ghost, was a consciously dishonest person; on the contrary, so
+complex and contradictory is human nature, she would have been, probably,
+a person of more than average intellect and earnestness; and her instinct
+of the invisible and the infinite (which is that which raises man above
+the brutes) would have been, because misinformed, the honourable cause of
+her error.  And thus we may believe of the good hermits, of whom
+prodigies are recorded.
+
+As to the truth of the prodigies themselves, there are several ways of
+looking at them.
+
+First, we may neither believe nor disbelieve them; but talk of them as
+“devout fairy tales,” religious romances, and allegories; and so save
+ourselves the trouble of judging whether they were true.  That is at
+least an easy and pleasant method; very fashionable in a careless,
+unbelieving age like this: but in following it we shall be somewhat
+cowardly; for there is hardly any matter a clear judgment on which is
+more important just now than these same saints’ miracles.
+
+Next, we may believe them utterly and all; and that is also an easy and
+pleasant method.  But if we follow it, we shall be forced to believe,
+among other facts, that St. Paphnutius was carried miraculously across a
+river, because he was too modest to undress himself and wade; that St.
+Helenus rode a savage crocodile across a river, and then commanded it to
+die; and that it died accordingly upon the spot; and that St. Goar,
+entering the palace of the Archbishop of Trêves, hung his cape on a
+sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.  And many other like things we shall be
+forced to believe, with which this book has no concern.
+
+Or, again, we may believe as much as we can, because we should like, if
+we could, to believe all.  But as we have not—no man has as yet—any
+criterion by which we can judge how much of these stories we ought to
+believe and how much not, which actually happened and which did not,
+therefore we shall end (as not only the most earnest and pious, but the
+most clear and logical persons, who have taken up this view, have ended
+already) by believing all: which is an end not to be desired.
+
+Or we may believe as few as possible of them, because we should like, if
+we could, to believe none.  And this method, for the reason aforesaid
+(namely, that there is no criterion by which we can settle what to
+believe and what not), usually ends in believing none at all.
+
+This, of believing none at all, is the last method; and this, I confess
+fairly, I am inclined to think is the right one; and that these good
+hermits worked no real miracles and saw no real visions whatsoever.
+
+I confess that this is a very serious assertion.  For there is as much
+evidence in favour of these hermits’ miracles and visions as there is,
+with most men, of the existence of China; and much more than there, with
+most men, is of the earth’s going round the sun.
+
+But the truth is, that evidence, in most matters of importance, is worth
+very little.  Very few people decide a question on its facts, but on
+their own prejudices as to what they would like to have happened.  Very
+few people are judges of evidence; not even of their own eyes and ears.
+Very few persons, when they see a thing, know what they have seen, and
+what not.  They tell you quite honestly, not what they saw, but what they
+think they ought to have seen, or should like to have seen.  It is a fact
+too often conveniently forgotten, that in every human crowd the majority
+will be more or less bad, or at least foolish; the slaves of anger,
+spite, conceit, vanity, sordid hope, and sordid fear.  But let them be as
+honest and as virtuous as they may, pleasure, terror, and the desire of
+seeming to have seen or heard more than their neighbours, and all about
+it, make them exaggerate.  If you take apart five honest men, who all
+stood by and saw the same man do anything strange, offensive, or even
+exciting, no two of them will give you quite the same account of it.  If
+you leave them together, while excited, an hour before you question them,
+they will have compared notes and made up one story, which will contain
+all their mistakes combined; and it will require the skill of a practised
+barrister to pick the grain of wheat out of the chaff.
+
+Moreover, when people are crowded together under any excitement, there is
+nothing which they will not make each other believe.  They will make each
+other believe in spirit-rapping, table-turning, the mesmeric fluid,
+electro-biology; that they saw the lion on Northumberland House wagging
+his tail; {203} that witches have been seen riding in the air; that the
+Jews had poisoned the wells; that—but why go further into the sad
+catalogue of human absurdities, and the crimes which have followed them?
+Every one is ashamed of not seeing what every one else sees, and
+persuades himself against his own eye sight for fear of seeming stupid or
+ill-conditioned; and therefore in all evidence, the fewer witnesses, the
+more truth, because the evidence of ten men is worth more than that of a
+hundred together; and the evidence of a thousand men together is worth
+still less.
+
+Now, if people are savage and ignorant, diseased and poverty-stricken;
+even if they are merely excited and credulous, and quite sure that
+something wonderful must happen, then they will be also quite certain
+that something wonderful has happened; and their evidence will be worth
+nothing at all.
+
+Moreover, suppose that something really wonderful has happened; suppose,
+for instance, that some nervous or paralytic person has been suddenly
+restored to strength by the command of a saint or of some other
+remarkable man.  This is quite possible, I may say common; and it is
+owing neither to physical nor to so-called spiritual causes, but simply
+to the power which a strong mind has over a weak one, to make it exert
+itself, and cure itself by its own will, though but for a time.
+
+When this good news comes to be told, and to pass from mouth to mouth, it
+ends of quite a different shape from that in which it began.  It has been
+added to, taken from, twisted in every direction according to the fancy
+or the carelessness of each teller, till what really happened in the
+first case no one will be able to say; {204} and this is, therefore, what
+actually happened, in the case of these reported wonders.  Moreover (and
+this is the most important consideration of all) for men to be fair
+judges of what really happens, they must have somewhat sound minds in
+somewhat sound bodies; which no man can have (however honest and
+virtuous) who gives himself up, as did these old hermits, to fasting and
+vigils.  That continued sleeplessness produces delusions, and at last
+actual madness, every physician knows; and they know also, as many a poor
+sailor has known when starving on a wreck, and many a poor soldier in
+such a retreat as that of Napoleon from Moscow, that extreme hunger and
+thirst produce delusions also, very similar to (and caused much in the
+same way as) those produced by ardent spirits; so that many a wretched
+creature ere now has been taken up for drunkenness, who has been simply
+starving to death.
+
+Whence it follows that these good hermits, by continual fasts and vigils,
+must have put themselves (and their histories prove that they did put
+themselves) into a state of mental disease, in which their evidence was
+worth nothing; a state in which the mind cannot distinguish between facts
+and dreams; in which life itself is one dream; in which (as in the case
+of madness, or of a feverish child) the brain cannot distinguish between
+the objects which are outside it and the imaginations which are inside
+it.  And it is plain, that the more earnest and pious, and therefore the
+more ascetic, one of these good men was, the more utterly would his brain
+be in a state of chronic disease.  God forbid that we should scorn them,
+therefore, or think the worse of them in any way.  They were animated by
+a truly noble purpose, the resolution to be good according to their
+light; they carried out that purpose with heroical endurance, and they
+have their reward: but this we must say, if we be rational people, that
+on their method of holiness, the more holy any one of them was, the less
+trustworthy was his account of any matter whatsoever; and that the
+hermit’s peculiar temptations (quite unknown to the hundreds of unmarried
+persons who lead quiet and virtuous, because rational and healthy, lives)
+are to be attributed, not as they thought, to a dæmon, but to a more or
+less unhealthy nervous system.
+
+It must be remembered, moreover, in justice to these old hermits, that
+they did not invent the belief that the air was full of dæmons.  All the
+Eastern nations had believed in Genii (Jinns), Fairies (Peris), and
+Devas, Divs, or devils.  The Devas of the early Hindus were beneficent
+beings: to the eyes of the old Persians (in their hatred of idolatry and
+polytheism), they appeared evil beings, Divs, or Devils.  And even so the
+genii and dæmons of the Roman Empire became, in the eyes of the early
+Christians, wicked and cruel spirits.
+
+And they had their reasons, and on the whole sound ones, for so regarding
+them.  The educated classes had given up any honest and literal worship
+of the old gods.  They were trying to excuse themselves for their
+lingering half belief in them, by turning them into allegories, powers of
+nature, metaphysical abstractions, as did Porphyry and Iamblichus,
+Plotinus and Proclus, and the rest of the Neo-Platonist school of
+aristocratic philosophers and fine ladies: but the lower classes still,
+in every region, kept up their own local beliefs and worships, generally
+of the most foul and brutal kind.  The animal worship of Egypt among the
+lower classes was sufficiently detestable in the time of Herodotus.  It
+had certainly not improved in that of Juvenal and Persius; and was still
+less likely to have improved afterwards.  This is a subject so shocking
+that it can be only hinted at.  But as a single instance—what wonder if
+the early hermits of Egypt looked on the crocodile as something diabolic,
+after seeing it, for generations untold, petted and worshipped in many a
+city, simply because it was the incarnate symbol of brute strength,
+cruelty, and cunning?  We must remember, also, that earlier generations
+(the old Norsemen and Germans just as much as the old Egyptians) were
+wont to look on animals as more miraculous than we do; as more akin, in
+many cases, to human beings; as guided, not by a mere blind instinct, but
+by an intellect which was allied to, and often surpassed man’s intellect.
+“The bear,” said the old Norsemen, “had ten men’s strength, and eleven
+men’s wit;” and in some such light must the old hermits have looked on
+the hyæna, “bellua,” the monster _par excellence_; or on the crocodile,
+the hippopotamus, and the poisonous snakes, which have been objects of
+terror and adoration in every country where they have been formidable.
+Whether the hyænas were dæmons, or were merely sent by the dæmons, St.
+Antony and St. Athanasius do not clearly define, for they did not know.
+It was enough for them that the beasts prowled at night in those desert
+cities, which were, according to the opinions, not only of the Easterns,
+but of the Romans, the special haunt of ghouls, witches, and all uncanny
+things.  Their fiendish laughter—which, when heard even in a modern
+menagerie, excites and shakes most person’s nerves—rang through hearts
+and brains which had no help or comfort, save in God alone.  The beast
+tore up the dead from their graves; devoured alike the belated child and
+the foulest offal; and was in all things a type and incarnation of that
+which man ought not to be.  Why should not he, so like the worst of men,
+have some bond or kindred with the evil beings who were not men?  Why
+should not the graceful and deadly cobra, the horrid cerastes, the huge
+throttling python, and even more, the loathly puff-adder,
+undistinguishable from the gravel among which he lay coiled, till he
+leaped furiously and unswerving, as if shot from a bow, upon his prey—why
+should not they too be kindred to that evil power who had been, in the
+holiest and most ancient books, personified by the name of the Serpent?
+Before we have a right to say that the hermits’ view of these deadly
+animals was not the most rational, as well as the most natural, which
+they could possibly have taken up, we must put ourselves in their places;
+and look at nature as they had learnt to look at it, not from Scripture
+and Christianity, so much as from the immemorial traditions of their
+heathen ancestors.
+
+If it be argued, that they ought to have been well enough acquainted with
+these beasts to be aware of their merely animal nature, the answer
+is—that they were probably not well acquainted with the beasts of the
+desert.  They had never, perhaps, before their “conversion,” left the
+narrow valley, well tilled and well inhabited, which holds the Nile.  A
+climb from it into the barren mountains and deserts east and west was a
+journey out of the world into chaos, and the region of the unknown and
+the horrible, which demanded high courage from the unarmed and effeminate
+Egyptian, who knew not what monster he might meet ere sundown.  Moreover,
+it is very probable that during these centuries of decadence, in Egypt,
+as in other parts of the Roman Empire, “the wild beasts of the field had
+increased” on the population, and were reappearing in the more cultivated
+grounds.
+
+But these old hermits appear perpetually in another, and a more humane,
+if not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers of savage beasts.
+Those who wish to know all which can be alleged in favour of their having
+possessed such a power, should read M. de Montalembert’s chapter, “Les
+Moines et la Nature.” {209}  All that learning and eloquence can say in
+favour of the theory is said there; and with a candour which demands from
+no man full belief of many beautiful but impossible stories, “travesties
+of historic verity,” which have probably grown up from ever-varying
+tradition in the course of ages.  M. de Montalembert himself points out a
+probable explanation of many of them:—An ingenious scholar of our
+times{210} (he says) has pointed out their true and legitimate origin—at
+least in Ancient Gaul.  According to him, after the gradual disappearance
+of the Gallo-Roman population, the oxen, the horses, the dogs had
+returned to the wild state; and it was in the forest that the Breton
+missionaries had to seek these animals, to employ them anew for domestic
+use.  The miracle was, to restore to man the command and the enjoyment of
+those creatures, which God had given him as instruments.
+
+This theory is probable enough, and will explain, doubtless, many
+stories.  It may even explain those of tamed wolves, who may have been
+only feral dogs, _i.e._ dogs run wild.  But it will not explain those in
+which (in Ireland as well as in Gaul) the stag appears as obeying the
+hermit’s commands.  The twelve huge stags who come out of the forest to
+draw the ploughs for St. Leonor and his monks, or those who drew to his
+grave the corpse of the Irish hermit Kellac, or those who came out of the
+forest to supply the place of St. Colodoc’s cattle, which the seigneur
+had carried off in revenge for his having given sanctuary to a hunted
+deer, must have been wild from the beginning; and many another tale must
+remain without any explanation whatsoever—save the simplest of all.
+Neither can any such theory apply to the marvels vouched for by St.
+Athanasius, St. Jerome, and other contemporaries, which “show us (to
+quote M. de Montalembert) the most ferocious animals at the feet of such
+men as Antony, Pachomius, Macarius, and Hilarion, and those who copied
+them.  At every page one sees wild asses, crocodiles, hippopotami,
+hyænas, and, above all, lions, transformed into respectful companions and
+docile servants of these prodigies of sanctity; and one concludes thence,
+not that these beasts had reasonable souls, but that God knew how to
+glorify those who devoted themselves to his glory, and thus show how all
+Nature obeyed man before he was excluded from Paradise by his
+disobedience.”
+
+This is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary biographers
+assign for these wonders.  The hermits were believed to have returned, by
+celibacy and penitence, to “the life of angels;” to that state of perfect
+innocence which was attributed to our first parents in Eden: and
+therefore of them our Lord’s words were true: “He that believeth in me,
+greater things than these (which I do) shall he do.”
+
+But those who are of a different opinion will seek for different causes.
+They will, the more they know of these stories, admire often their
+gracefulness, often their pathos, often their deep moral significance;
+they will feel the general truth of M. de Montalembert’s words: “There is
+not one of them which does not honour and profit human nature, and which
+does not express a victory of weakness over force, and of good over
+evil.”  But if they look on physical facts as sacred things, as the voice
+of God revealed in the phenomena of matter, their first question will be,
+“Are they true?”
+
+Some of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus, riding and
+then slaying the crocodile.  It did not happen.  Abbot Ammon {212a} did
+not make two dragons guard his cell against robbers.  St. Gerasimus
+{212b} did not set the lion, out of whose foot he had taken a thorn, to
+guard his ass; and when the ass was stolen by an Arabian camel-driver, he
+did not (fancying that the lion had eaten the ass) make him carry water
+in the ass’s stead.  Neither did the lion, when next he met the thief and
+the ass, bring them up, in his own justification, {212c} to St.
+Gerasimus.  St. Costinian did not put a pack-saddle on a bear, and make
+him carry a great stone.  A lioness did not bring her five blind whelps
+to a hermit, that he might give them sight. {212d}  And, though Sulpicius
+Severus says that he saw it with his own eyes, {212e} it is hard to
+believe the latter part of the graceful story which he tells—of an old
+hermit whom he found dwelling alone twelve miles from the Nile, by a well
+of vast depth.  One ox he had, whose whole work was to raise the water by
+a wheel.  Around him was a garden of herbs, kept rich and green amid the
+burning sand, where neither seed nor root could live.  The old man and
+the ox fed together on the produce of their common toil; but two miles
+off there was a single palm-tree, to which, after supper, the hermit
+takes his guests.  Beneath the palm they find a lioness; but instead of
+attacking them, she moves “modestly” away at the old man’s command, and
+sits down to wait for her share of dates.  She feeds out of his hand,
+like a household animal, and goes her way, leaving her guests trembling,
+“and confessing how great was the virtue of the hermit’s faith, and how
+great their own infirmity.”
+
+This last story, which one would gladly believe, were it possible, I have
+inserted as one of those which hang on the verge of credibility.  In the
+very next page, Sulpicius Severus tells a story quite credible, of a
+she-wolf, which he saw with his own eyes as tame as any dog.  There can
+be no more reason to doubt that fact than to ascribe it to a miracle.  We
+may even believe that the wolf, having gnawed to pieces the palm basket
+which the good old man was weaving, went off, knowing that she had done
+wrong, and after a week came back, begged pardon like a rational soul,
+and was caressed, and given a double share of bread.  Many of these
+stories which tell of the taming of wild beasts may be true, and yet
+contain no miracle.  They are very few in number, after all, in
+proportion to the number of monks; they are to be counted at most by
+tens, while the monks are counted by tens of thousands.  And among many
+great companies of monks, there may have been one individual, as there
+is, for instance, in many a country parish a bee-taker or a horse-tamer,
+of quiet temper and strong nerve, and quick and sympathetic intellect,
+whose power over animals is so extraordinary, as to be attributed by the
+superstitious and uneducated to some hereditary secret, or some fairy
+gift.  Very powerful to attract wild animals must have been the good
+hermits’ habit of sitting motionless for hours, till (as with St.
+Guthlac) the swallows sat and sang upon his knee; and of moving slowly
+and gently at his work, till (as with St. Karilef, while he pruned his
+vines) the robin came and built in his hood as it hung upon a tree: very
+powerful his freedom from anger, and, yet more important, from fear,
+which always calls out rage in wild beasts, while a calm and bold front
+awes them: and most powerful of all, the kindliness of heart, the love of
+companionship, which brought the wild bison to feed by St. Karilef’s side
+as he prayed upon the lawn; and the hind to nourish St. Giles with her
+milk in the jungles of the Bouches du Rhône.  There was no miracle; save
+the moral miracle that, in ages of cruelty and slaughter, these men had
+learned (surely by the inspiration of God) how—
+
+    “He prayeth well who loveth well
+    Both man and bird and beast;
+    He prayeth best who loveth best
+    All things, both great and small;
+    For the dear God who loveth us,
+    He made and loveth all.”
+
+After all, let these old Lives of the Fathers tell their own tale.  By
+their own merits let them stand or fall; and stand they will in one
+sense: for whatsoever else they are not, this they are—the histories of
+good men.  Their physical science and their dæmonology may have been on a
+par with those of the world around them: but they possessed what the
+world did not possess, faith in the utterly good and self-sacrificing
+God, and an ideal of virtue and purity such as had never been seen since
+the first Whitsuntide.  And they set themselves to realize that ideal
+with a simplicity, an energy, an endurance, which were altogether heroic.
+How far they were right in “giving up the world” depends entirely on what
+the world was then like, and whether there was any hope of reforming it.
+It was their opinion that there was no such hope; and those who know best
+the facts which surrounded them, its utter frivolity, its utter
+viciousness, the deadness which had fallen on art, science, philosophy,
+human life, whether family, social, or political; the prevalence of
+slavery, in forms altogether hideous and unmentionable; the insecurity of
+life and property, whether from military and fiscal tyranny, or from
+perpetual inroads of the so-called “Barbarians:” those, I say, who know
+these facts best will be most inclined to believe that the old hermits
+were wise in their generation; that the world was past salvation; that it
+was not a wise or humane thing to marry and bring children into the
+world; that in such a state of society, an honest and virtuous man could
+not exist, and that those who wished to remain honest and virtuous must
+flee into the desert, and be alone with God and their fellows.
+
+The question which had to be settled then and there, at that particular
+crisis of the human race, was not—Are certain wonders true or false?
+but—Is man a mere mortal animal, or an immortal soul?  Is his flesh meant
+to serve his spirit, or his spirit his flesh?  Is pleasure, or virtue,
+the end and aim of his existence?
+
+The hermits set themselves to answer that question, not by arguing or
+writing about it, but by the only way in which any question can be
+settled—by experiment.  They resolved to try whether their immortal souls
+could not grow better and better, while their mortal bodies were utterly
+neglected; to make their flesh serve their spirit; to make virtue their
+only end and aim; and utterly to relinquish the very notion of pleasure.
+To do this one thing, and nothing else, they devoted their lives; and
+they succeeded.  From their time it has been a received opinion, not
+merely among a few philosophers or a few Pharisees, but among the lowest,
+the poorest, the most ignorant, who have known aught of Christianity,
+that man is an immortal soul; that the spirit, and not the flesh, ought
+to be master and guide; that virtue is the highest good; and that purity
+is a virtue, impurity a sin.  These men were, it has been well said, the
+very fathers of purity.  And if, in that and in other matters, they
+pushed their purpose to an extreme—if, by devoting themselves utterly to
+it alone, they suffered, not merely in wideness of mind or in power of
+judging evidence, but even in brain, till they became some of them at
+times insane from over-wrought nerves—it is not for us to blame the
+soldier for the wounds which have crippled him, or the physician for the
+disease which he has caught himself while trying to heal others.  Let us
+not speak ill of the bridge which carries us over, nor mock at those who
+did the work for us as seemed to them best, and perhaps in the only way
+in which it could be done in those evil days.  As a matter of fact,
+through these men’s teaching and example we have learnt what morality,
+purity, and Christianity we possess; and if any answer that we have
+learnt them from the Scriptures, who but these men preserved the
+Scriptures to us?  Who taught us to look on them as sacred and inspired?
+Who taught us to apply them to our own daily lives, and find comfort and
+teaching in every age, in words written ages ago by another race in a
+foreign land?  The Scriptures were the book, generally the only book,
+which they read and meditated, not merely from morn till night, but, as
+far as fainting nature would allow, from night to morn again: and their
+method of interpreting them (as far as I can discover) differed in
+nothing from that common to all Christians now, save that they
+interpreted literally certain precepts of our Lord and of St. Paul which
+we consider to have applied only to the “temporary necessity” of a
+decayed, dying, and hopeless age such as that in which they lived.  And
+therefore, because they knew the Scripture well, and learned in it
+lessons of true virtue and true philosophy, though unable to save
+civilization in the East, they were able at least to save it in the West.
+The European hermits, and the monastic communities which they originated,
+were indeed a seed of life, not merely to the conquered Roman population
+of Gaul or Spain or Britain, but to the heathen and Arian barbarians who
+conquered them.  Among those fierce and armed savages, the unarmed
+hermits stood, strong only by justice, purity, and faith in God, defying
+the oppressor, succouring the oppressed, and awing and softening the new
+aristocracy of the middle age, which was founded on mere brute force and
+pride of race; because the monk took his stand upon mere humanity;
+because he told the wild conqueror, Goth or Sueve, Frank or Burgund,
+Saxon or Norseman, that all men were equal in the sight of God; because
+he told them (to quote Athanasius’s own words concerning Antony) that
+“virtue is not beyond human nature;” that the highest moral excellence
+was possible to the most low-born and unlettered peasant whom they
+trampled under their horses’ hoofs, if he were only renewed and
+sanctified by the Spirit of God.  They accepted the lowest and commonest
+facts of that peasant’s wretched life; they outdid him in helplessness,
+loneliness, hunger, dirt, and slavery; and then said, “Among all these I
+can yet be a man of God, wise, virtuous, pure, free, and noble in the
+sight of God, though not in the sight of Cæsars, counts, and knights.”
+They went on, it is true, to glorify the means above the end; to
+consecrate childlessness, self-torture, dirt, ignorance, as if they were
+things pleasing to God and holy in themselves.  But in spite of those
+errors they wrought throughout Europe a work which, as far as we can
+judge, could have been done in no other way; done only by men who gave up
+all that makes life worth having for the sake of being good themselves
+and making others good.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERMITS OF EUROPE
+
+
+MOST readers will recollect what an important part in the old ballads and
+romances is played by the hermit.
+
+He stands in strongest contrast to the knight.  He fills up, as it were,
+by his gentleness and self-sacrifice, what is wanting in the manhood of
+the knight, the slave too often of his own fierceness and self-assertion.
+The hermit rebukes him when he sins, heals him when he is wounded, stays
+his hand in some mad murderous duel, such as was too common in days when
+any two armed horsemen meeting on road or lawn ran blindly at each other
+in the mere lust of fighting, as boars or stags might run.  Sometimes he
+interferes to protect the oppressed serf; sometimes to rescue the hunted
+deer which has taken sanctuary at his feet.  Sometimes, again, his
+influence is that of intellectual superiority; of worldly experience; of
+the travelled man who has seen many lands and many nations.  Sometimes,
+again, that of sympathy; for he has been a knight himself, and fought and
+sinned, and drank of the cup of vanity and vexation of spirit, like the
+fierce warrior who kneels at his feet.
+
+All who have read (and all ought to have read) Spenser’s Fairy Queen,
+must recollect his charming description of the hermit with whom Prince
+Arthur leaves Serena and the squire after they have been wounded by “the
+blatant beast” of Slander; when—
+
+             “Toward night they came unto a plain
+       By which a little hermitage there lay
+    Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.
+
+       “And nigh thereto a little chapel stood,
+       Which being all with ivy overspread
+       Decked all the roof, and shadowing the rood,
+       Seemed like a grove fair branchèd overhead;
+       Therein the hermit which his here led
+       In straight observance of religious vow,
+       Was wont his hours and holy things to bed;
+       And therein he likewise was praying now,
+    When as these knights arrived, they wist not where nor how.
+
+       “They stayed not there, but straightway in did pass:
+       Who when the hermit present saw in place,
+       From his devotions straight he troubled was;
+       Which breaking off, he toward them did pace
+       With staid steps and grave beseeming grace:
+       For well it seemed that whilom he had been
+       Some goodly person, and of gentle race,
+       That could his good to all, and well did ween
+    How each to entertain with courtesy beseen.
+
+                                  * * * * *
+
+       “He thence them led into his hermitage,
+       Letting their steeds to graze upon the green:
+       Small was his house, and like a little cage,
+       For his own term, yet inly neat and clean,
+       Decked with green boughs, and flowers gay beseen
+       Therein he them full fair did entertain,
+       Not with such forgèd shews, as fitter been
+       For courting fools that courtesies would feign,
+    But with entire affection and appearance plain.
+
+                                  * * * * *
+
+       How be that careful hermit did his best
+       With many kinds of medicines meet to tame
+       The poisonous humour that did most infest
+    Their reakling wounds, and every day them duly dressed.
+
+       “For he right well in leech’s craft was seen;
+       And through the long experience of his days,
+       Which had in many fortunes tossèd been,
+       And passed through many perilous assays:
+       He knew the divers want of mortal ways,
+       And in the minds of men had great insight;
+       Which with sage counsel, when they went astray,
+       He could inform and them reduce aright;
+    And all the passions heal which wound the weaker sprite.
+
+       “For whilome he had been a doughty knight,
+       As any one that livèd in his days,
+       And provèd oft in many a perilous fight,
+       In which he grace and glory won always,
+       And in all battles bore away the bays:
+       But being now attached with timely age,
+       And weary of this world’s unquiet ways,
+       He took himself unto this hermitage,
+    In which he lived alone like careless bird in cage.”
+
+This picture is not poetry alone: it is history.  Such men actually
+lived, and such work they actually did, from the southernmost point of
+Italy to the northernmost point of Scotland, during centuries in which
+there was no one else to do the work.  The regular clergy could not have
+done it.  Bishops and priests were entangled in the affairs of this
+world, striving to be statesmen, striving to be landowners, striving to
+pass Church lands on from father to son, and to establish themselves as
+an hereditary caste of priests.  The chaplain or house-priest who was to
+be found in every nobleman’s, almost every knight’s castle, was apt to
+become a mere upper servant, who said mass every morning in return for
+the good cheer which he got every evening, and fetched and carried at the
+bidding of his master and mistress.  But the hermit who dwelt alone in
+the forest glen, occupied, like an old Hebrew prophet, a superior and an
+independent position.  He needed nought from any man save the scrap of
+land which the lord was only too glad to allow him in return for his
+counsels and his prayers.  And to him, as to a mysterious and
+supernatural personage, the lord went privately for advice in his
+quarrels with the neighbouring barons, or with his own kin.  To him the
+lady took her children when they were sick, to be healed, as she fancied,
+by his prayers and blessings; or poured into his ears a hundred secret
+sorrows and anxieties which she dare not tell to her fierce lord, who
+hunted and fought the livelong day, and drank too much liquor every
+night.
+
+This class of men sprang up rapidly, by natural causes, and yet by a
+Divine necessity, as soon as the Western Empire was conquered by the
+German tribes; and those two young officers whom we saw turning monks at
+Trêves, in the time of St. Augustine, may, if they lived to be old men,
+have given sage counsel again and again to fierce German knights and
+kinglets, who had dispossessed the rich and effeminate landowners of
+their estates, and sold them, their wives, and children, in gangs by the
+side of their own slaves.  Only the Roman who had turned monk would
+probably escape that fearful ruin; and he would remain behind, while the
+rest of his race was enslaved or swept away, as a seed of Christianity
+and of civilization, destined to grow and spread, and bring the wild
+conquerors in due time into the kingdom of God.
+
+For the first century or two after the invasion of the barbarians, the
+names of the hermits and saints are almost exclusively Latin.  Their
+biographies represent them in almost every case as born of noble Roman
+parents.  As time goes on, German names appear, and at last entirely
+supersede the Latin ones; showing that the conquering race had learned
+from the conquered to become hermits and monks like them.
+
+
+
+
+ST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM
+
+
+OF all these saintly civilizers, St. Severinus of Vienna is perhaps the
+most interesting, and his story the most historically instructive. {224}
+
+A common time, the middle of the fifth century, the province of Noricum
+(Austria, as we should now call it) was the very highway of invading
+barbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom in which Huns, Alemanni,
+Rugi, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled up and down and round the
+starving and beleaguered towns of what had once been a happy and fertile
+province, each tribe striving to trample the other under foot, and to
+march southward over their corpses to plunder what was still left of the
+already plundered wealth of Italy and Rome.  The difference of race, in
+tongue, and in manners, between the conquered and their conquerors, was
+made more painful by difference in creed.  The conquering Germans and
+Huns were either Arians or heathens.  The conquered race (though probably
+of very mixed blood), who called themselves Romans, because they spoke
+Latin and lived under the Roman law, were orthodox Catholics; and the
+miseries of religious persecution were too often added to the usual
+miseries of invasion.
+
+It was about the year 455–60.  Attila, the great King of the Huns, who
+called himself—and who was—“the Scourge of God,” was just dead.  His
+empire had broken up.  The whole centre of Europe was in a state of
+anarchy and war; and the hapless Romans along the Danube were in the last
+extremity of terror, not knowing by what fresh invader their crops would
+be swept off up to the very gates of the walled towers which were their
+only defence: when there appeared among them, coming out of the East, a
+man of God.
+
+Who he was, he would not tell.  His speech showed him to be an African
+Roman—a fellow-countryman of St. Augustine—probably from the
+neighbourhood of Carthage.  He had certainly at one time gone to some
+desert in the East, zealous to learn “the more perfect life.”  Severinus,
+he said, was his name; a name which indicated high rank, as did the
+manners and the scholarship of him who bore it.  But more than his name
+he would not tell.  “If you take me for a runaway slave,” he said,
+smiling, “get ready money to redeem me with when my master demands me
+back.”  For he believed that they would have need of him; that God had
+sent him into that land that he might be of use to its wretched people.
+And certainly he could have come into the neighbourhood of Vienna at that
+moment for no other purpose than to do good, unless he came to deal in
+slaves.
+
+He settled first at a town called by his biographer Casturis; and,
+lodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the hermit life.
+Meanwhile the German tribes were prowling round the town; and Severinus,
+going one day into the church, began to warn the priests and clergy and
+all the people that a destruction was coming on them which they could
+only avert by prayer and fasting and the works of mercy.  They laughed
+him to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman walls, which the
+invaders—wild horsemen, who had no military engines—were unable either to
+scale or batter down.  Severinus left the town at once, prophesying, it
+was said, the very day and hour of its fall.  He went on to the next
+town, which was then closely garrisoned by a barbarian force, and
+repeated his warning there: but while the people were listening to him,
+there came an old man to the gate, and told them how Casturis had been
+already sacked, as the man of God had foretold; and, going into the
+church, threw himself at the feet of St. Severinus, and said that he had
+been saved by his merits from being destroyed with his fellow-townsmen.
+
+Then the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and gave
+themselves up to fasting and almsgiving and prayer for three whole days.
+
+And on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening sacrifice was
+fulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the barbarians, seized with
+panic fear, and probably hating and dreading—like all those wild
+tribes—confinement between four stone walls instead of the free open life
+of the tent and the stockade, forced the Romans to open their gates to
+them, rushed out into the night, and in their madness slew each other.
+
+In those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and they, as their
+sole remedy, thought good to send for the man of God from the
+neighbouring town.  He went, and preached to them, too, repentance and
+almsgiving.  The rich, it seems, had hidden up their stores of corn, and
+left the poor to starve.  At least St. Severinus discovered (by Divine
+revelation, it was supposed), that a widow named Procula had done as
+much.  He called her out into the midst of the people, and asked her why
+she, a noble woman and free-born, had made herself a slave to avarice,
+which is idolatry.  If she would not give her corn to Christ’s poor, let
+her throw it into the Danube to feed the fish, for any gain from it she
+would not have.  Procula was abashed, and served out her hoards thereupon
+willingly to the poor; and a little while afterwards, to the astonishment
+of all, vessels came down the Danube, laden with every kind of
+merchandise.  They had been frozen up for many days near Passau, in the
+thick ice of the river Enns: but the prayers of God’s servant (so men
+believed) had opened the ice-gates, and let them down the stream before
+the usual time.
+
+Then the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and carried off
+human beings and cattle, as many as they could find.  Severinus, like
+some old Hebrew prophet, did not shrink from advising hard blows, where
+hard blows could avail.  Mamertinus, the tribune, or officer in command,
+told him that he had so few soldiers, and those so ill-armed, that he
+dare not face the enemy.  Severinus answered, that they should get
+weapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would fight for them,
+and they should hold their peace: only if they took any captives they
+should bring them safe to him.  At the second milestone from the city
+they came upon the plunderers, who fled at once, leaving their arms
+behind.  Thus was the prophecy of the man of God fulfilled.  The Romans
+brought the captives back to him unharmed.  He loosed their bonds, gave
+them food and drink, and let them go.  But they were to tell their
+comrades that, if ever they came near that spot again, celestial
+vengeance would fall on them, for the God of the Christians fought from
+heaven in his servants’ cause.
+
+So the barbarians trembled, and went away.  And the fear of St. Severinus
+fell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though they were; and on the Rugii,
+who held the north bank of the Danube in those evil days.  St. Severinus,
+meanwhile, went out of Vienna, and built himself a cell at a place called
+“At the Vineyards.”  But some benevolent impulse—Divine revelation, his
+biographer calls it—prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a
+hill close to Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up, tenanted by
+his disciples.  “There,” says his biographer, “he longed to escape the
+crowds of men who were wont to come to him, and cling closer to God in
+continual prayer: but the more he longed to dwell in solitude, the more
+often he was warned by revelations not to deny his presence to the
+afflicted people.”  He fasted continually; he went barefoot even in the
+midst of winter, which was so severe, the story continues, in those days
+around Vienna, that wagons crossed the Danube on the solid ice: and yet,
+instead of being puffed-up by his own virtues, he set an example of
+humility to all, and bade them with tears to pray for him, that the
+Saviour’s gifts to him might not heap condemnation on his head.
+
+Over the wild Rugii St. Severinus seems to have acquired unbounded
+influence.  Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour out his sorrows to him,
+and tell him how the princes of the Goths would surely slay him; for when
+he had asked leave of him to pass on into Italy, he would not let him go.
+But St. Severinus prophesied to him that the Goths would do him no harm.
+Only one warning he must take: “Let it not grieve him to ask peace even
+for the least of men.”
+
+The friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king and the
+cultivated saint was carried on by his son Feva: but his “deadly and
+noxious wife” Gisa, who appears to have been a fierce Arian, always, says
+his biographer, kept him back from clemency.  One story of Gisa’s
+misdeeds is so characteristic both of the manners of the time and of the
+style in which the original biography is written, that I shall take leave
+to insert it at length.
+
+“The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the aforementioned
+Flaccitheus, following his father’s devotion, began, at the commencement
+of his reign, often to visit the holy man.  His deadly and noxious wife,
+named Gisa, always kept him back from the remedies of clemency.  For she,
+among the other plague-spots of her iniquity, even tried to have certain
+Catholics re-baptized: but when her husband did not consent, on account
+of his reverence for St. Severinus, she gave up immediately her
+sacrilegious intention, burdening the Romans, nevertheless, with hard
+conditions, and commanding some of them to be exiled to the Danube.  For
+when one day, she, having come to the village next to Vienna, had ordered
+some of them to be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the most menial
+offices of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged that they
+might be let go.  But she, blazing up in a flame of fury, ordered the
+harshest of answers to be returned.  ‘I pray thee,’ she said, ‘servant of
+God, hiding there within thy cell, allow us to settle what we choose
+about our own slaves.’  But the man of God hearing this, ‘I trust,’ he
+said, ‘in my Lord Jesus Christ, that she will be forced by necessity to
+fulfil that which in her wicked will she has despised.’  And forthwith a
+swift rebuke followed, and brought low the soul of the arrogant woman.
+For she had confined in close custody certain barbarian goldsmiths, that
+they might make regal ornaments.  To them the son of the aforesaid king,
+Frederic by name, still a little boy, had gone in, in childish levity, on
+the very day on which the queen had despised the servant of God.  The
+goldsmiths put a sword to the child’s breast, saying, that if any one
+attempted to enter without giving them an oath that they should be
+protected, he should die; and that they would slay the king’s child
+first, and themselves afterwards, seeing that they had no hope of life
+left, being worn out with long prison.  When she heard that, the cruel
+and impious queen, rending her garments for grief, cried out, ‘O servant
+of God, Severinus, are the injuries which I did thee thus avenged?  Hast
+thou obtained by the earnest prayer thou hast poured out this punishment
+for my contempt, that thou shouldst avenge it on my own flesh and blood?’
+Then, running up and down with manifold contrition and miserable
+lamentation, she confessed that for the act of contempt which she had
+committed against the servant of God she was struck by the vengeance of
+the present blow; and forthwith she sent knights to ask for forgiveness,
+and sent across the river the Romans his prayers for whom she had
+despised.  The goldsmiths, having received immediately a promise of
+safety, and giving up the child, were in like manner let go.
+
+“The most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave boundless thanks
+to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of suppliants for this
+end, that as faith, hope, and charity grow, while lesser things are
+sought, He may concede greater things.  Lastly, this did the mercy of the
+Omnipotent Saviour work, that while it brought to slavery a woman free,
+but cruel overmuch, she was forced to restore to liberty those who were
+enslaved.  This having been marvellously gained, the queen hastened with
+her husband to the servant of God, and showed him her son, who, she
+confessed, had been freed from the verge of death by his prayers, and
+promised that she would never go against his commands.”
+
+To this period of Severinus’s life belongs the once famous story of his
+interview with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy, and brother of
+the great Onulph or Wolf, who was the founder of the family of the
+Guelphs, Counts of Altorf, and the direct ancestors of Victoria, Queen of
+England.  Their father was Ædecon, secretary at one time of Attila, and
+chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who, though German, had clung
+faithfully to Attila’s sons, and came to ruin at the great battle of
+Netad, when the empire of the Huns broke up once and for ever.  Then
+Odoacer and his brother started over the Alps to seek their fortunes in
+Italy, and take service, after the fashion of young German adventurers,
+with the Romans; and they came to St. Severinus’s cell, and went in,
+heathens as they probably were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and
+Odoacer had to stoop and to stand stooping, so huge he was.  The saint
+saw that he was no common lad, and said, “Go to Italy, clothed though
+thou be in ragged sheepskins: thou shalt soon give greater gifts to thy
+friends.”  So Odoacer went on into Italy, deposed the last of the Cæsars,
+a paltry boy, Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his own
+astonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king of Italy;
+and, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered the prophecy
+of Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon he chose to ask.
+But all that the saint asked was, that he should forgive some Romans whom
+he had banished.  St. Severinus meanwhile foresaw that Odoacer’s kingdom
+would not last, as he seems to have foreseen many things, by no
+miraculous revelation, but simply as a far-sighted man of the world.  For
+when certain German knights were boasting before him of the power and
+glory of Odoacer, he said that it would last some thirteen, or at most
+fourteen years; and the prophecy (so all men said in those days) came
+exactly true.
+
+There is no need to follow the details of St. Severinus’s labours through
+some five-and-twenty years of perpetual self-sacrifice—and, as far as
+this world was concerned, perpetual disaster.  Eugippius’s chapters are
+little save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the other, from Passau
+to Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the war seemed to have
+concentrated themselves under St. Severinus’s guardianship in the latter
+city.  We find, too, tales of famine, of locust-swarms, of little
+victories over the barbarians, which do not arrest wholesale defeat: but
+we find through all St. Severinus labouring like a true man of God,
+conciliating the invading chiefs, redeeming captives, procuring for the
+cities which were still standing supplies of clothes for the fugitives,
+persuading the husbandmen, seemingly through large districts, to give
+even in time of dearth a tithe of their produce to the poor;—a tale of
+noble work which one regrets to see defaced by silly little prodigies,
+more important seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius than the great
+events which were passing round him.  But this is a fault too common with
+monk chroniclers.  The only historians of the early middle age, they have
+left us a miserably imperfect record of it, because they were looking
+always rather for the preternatural than for the natural.  Many of the
+saints’ lives, as they have come down to us, are mere catalogues of
+wonders which never happened, from among which the antiquary must pick,
+out of passing hints and obscure allusions, the really important facts of
+the time,—changes political and social, geography, physical history, the
+manners, speech, and look of nations now extinct, and even the characters
+and passions of the actors in the story.  How much can be found among
+such a list of wonders, by an antiquary who has not merely learning but
+intellectual insight, is proved by the admirable notes which Dr. Reeves
+has appended to Adamnan’s life of St. Columba: but one feels, while
+studying his work, that, had Adamnan thought more of facts and less of
+prodigies, he might have saved Dr. Reeves the greater part of his labour,
+and preserved to us a mass of knowledge now lost for ever.
+
+And so with Eugippius’s life of St. Severinus.  The reader finds how the
+man who had secretly celebrated a heathen sacrifice was discovered by St.
+Severinus, because, while the tapers of the rest of the congregation were
+lighted miraculously from heaven, his taper alone would not light; and
+passes on impatiently, with regret that the biographer omits to mention
+what the heathen sacrifice was like.  He reads how the Danube dared not
+rise above the mark of the cross which St. Severinus had cut upon the
+posts of a timber chapel; how a poor man, going out to drive the locusts
+off his little patch of corn instead of staying in the church all day to
+pray, found the next morning that his crop alone had been eaten, while
+all the fields around remained untouched.  Even the well-known story,
+which has a certain awfulness about it, how St. Severinus watched all
+night by the bier of the dead priest Silvinus, and ere the morning dawned
+bade him in the name of God speak to his brethren; and how the dead man
+opened his eyes, and Severinus asked him whether he wished to return to
+life, and he answered complainingly, “Keep me no longer here; nor cheat
+me of that perpetual rest which I had already found,” and so, closing his
+eyes once more, was still for ever:—even such a story as this, were it
+true, would be of little value in comparison with the wisdom, faith,
+charity, sympathy, industry, utter self-sacrifice, which formed the true
+greatness of such a man as Severinus.
+
+At last the noble life wore itself out.  For two years Severinus had
+foretold that his end was near; and foretold, too, that the people for
+whom he had spent himself should go forth in safety, as Israel out of
+Egypt, and find a refuge in some other Roman province, leaving behind
+them so utter a solitude, that the barbarians, in their search for the
+hidden treasures of the civilization which they had exterminated, should
+dig up the very graves of the dead.  Only, when the Lord willed that
+people to deliver them, they must carry away his bones with them, as the
+children of Israel carried the bones of Joseph.
+
+Then Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king, and Gisa, his cruel wife;
+and when he had warned them how they must render an account to God for
+the people committed to their charge, he stretched his hand out to the
+bosom of the king.  “Gisa,” he asked, “dost thou love most the soul
+within that breast, or gold and silver?”  She answered that she loved her
+husband above all.  “Cease then,” he said, “to oppress the innocent: lest
+their affliction be the ruin of your power.”
+
+Severinus’ presage was strangely fulfilled.  Feva had handed over the
+city of Vienna to his brother Frederic,—“poor and impious,” says
+Eugippius.  Severinus, who knew him well, sent for him, and warned him
+that he himself was going to the Lord; and that if, after his death,
+Frederic dared touch aught of the substance of the poor and the captive,
+the wrath of God would fall on him.  In vain the barbarian pretended
+indignant innocence; Severinus sent him away with fresh warnings.
+
+“Then on the nones of January he was smitten slightly with a pain in the
+side.  And when that had continued for three days, at midnight he bade
+the brethren come to him.”  He renewed his talk about the coming
+emigration, and entreated again that his bones might not be left behind;
+and having bidden all in turn come near and kiss him, and having received
+the sacrament of communion, he forbade them to weep for him, and
+commanded them to sing a psalm.  They hesitated, weeping.  He himself
+gave out the psalm, “Praise the Lord in his saints, and let all that hath
+breath praise the Lord;” and so went to rest in the Lord.
+
+No sooner was he dead than Frederic seized on the garments kept in the
+monastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded his men to carry
+off the vessels of the altar.  Then followed a scene characteristic of
+the time.  The steward sent to do the deed shrank from the crime of
+sacrilege.  A knight, Anicianus by name, went in his stead, and took the
+vessels of the altar.  But his conscience was too strong for him.
+Trembling and delirium fell on him, and he fled away to a lonely island,
+and became a hermit there.  Frederic, impenitent, swept away all in the
+monastery, leaving nought but the bare walls, “which he could not carry
+over the Danube.”  But on him, too, vengeance fell.  Within a month he
+was slain by his own nephew.  Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii, and
+carried off Feva and Gisa captive to Rome.  And then the long-promised
+emigration came.  Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to
+establish a half-Roman kingdom in Italy), or for love of St. Severinus
+himself, sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the miserable
+remnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed among the wasted
+and unpeopled farms of Italy.  And with them went forth the corpse of St.
+Severinus, undecayed, though he had been six years dead, and giving forth
+exceeding fragrance, though (says Eugippius) no embalmer’s hand had
+touched it.  In a coffin, which had been long prepared for it, it was
+laid on a wagon, and went over the Alps into Italy, working (according to
+Eugippius) the usual miracles on the way, till it found a resting-place
+near Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus at Misenum, to which Odoacer
+had sent the last Emperor of Rome to dream his ignoble life away in
+helpless luxury.
+
+So ends this tragic story.  Of its substantial truth there can be no
+doubt.  The miracles recorded in it are fewer and less strange than those
+of the average legends—as is usually the case when an eye-witness writes.
+And that Eugippius was an eye-witness of much which he tells, no one
+accustomed to judge of the authenticity of documents can doubt, if he
+studies the tale as it stands in Pez. {238}  As he studies, too, he will
+perhaps wish with me that some great dramatist may hereafter take
+Eugippius’s quaint and rough legend, and shape it into immortal verse.
+For tragic, in the very nighest sense, the story is throughout.  M.
+Ozanam has well said of that death-bed scene between the saint and the
+barbarian king and queen—“The history of invasions has many a pathetic
+scene: but I know none more instructive than the dying agony of that old
+Roman expiring between two barbarians, and less touched with the ruin of
+the empire than with the peril of their souls.”  But even more
+instructive, and more tragic also, is the strange coincidence that the
+wonder-working corpse of the starved and barefooted hermit should rest
+beside the last Emperor of Rome.  It is the symbol of a new era.  The
+kings of this world have been judged and cast out.  The empire of the
+flesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit to conquer thenceforth
+for evermore.
+
+But if St. Severinus’s labours in Austria were in vain, there were other
+hermits, in Gaul and elsewhere, whose work endured and prospered, and
+developed to a size of which they had never dreamed.  The stories of
+these good men may be read at length in the Bollandists and Surius: in a
+more accessible and more graceful form in M. de Montalembert’s charming
+pages.  I can only sketch, in a few words, the history of a few of the
+more famous.  Pushing continually northward and westward from the shores
+of the Mediterranean, fresh hermits settled in the mountains and forests,
+collected disciples round them, and founded monasteries, which, during
+the sanguinary and savage era of the Merovingian kings, were the only
+retreats for learning, piety, and civilization.  St. Martin (the young
+soldier who may be seen in old pictures cutting his cloak in two with a
+sword, to share it with a beggar) left, after twenty campaigns, the army
+into which he had been enrolled against his will, a conscript of fifteen
+years old, to become a hermit, monk, and missionary.  In the desert isle
+of Gallinaria, near Genoa, he lived on roots, to train himself for the
+monastic life; and then went north-west, to Poitiers, to found Ligugé
+(said to be the most ancient monastery in France), to become Bishop of
+Tours, and to overthrow throughout his diocese, often at the risk of his
+life, the sacred oaks and Druid stones of the Gauls, and the temples and
+idols of the Romans.  But he—like many more—longed for the peace of the
+hermit’s cell; and near Tours, between the river Loire and lofty cliffs,
+he hid himself in a hut of branches, while his eighty disciples dwelt in
+caves of the rocks above, clothed only in skins of camels.  He died in
+A.D. 397, at the age of eighty-one, leaving behind him, not merely that
+famous monastery of Marmontier (Martini Monasterium), which endured till
+the Revolution of 1793, but, what is infinitely more to his glory, his
+solemn and indignant protest against the first persecution by the
+Catholic Church—the torture and execution of those unhappy Priscillianist
+fanatics, whom the Spanish Bishops (the spiritual forefathers of the
+Inquisition) had condemned in the name of the God of love.  Martin wept
+over the fate of the Priscillianists.  Happily he was no prophet, or his
+head would have become (like Jeremiah’s) a fount of tears, could he have
+foreseen that the isolated atrocity of those Spanish Bishops would have
+become the example and the rule, legalized and formulized and commanded
+by Pope after Pope, for every country in Christendom.
+
+Sulpicius Severus, again (whose Lives of the Desert Fathers I have
+already quoted), carried the example of these fathers into his own
+estates in Aquitaine.  Selling his lands, he dwelt among his now
+manumitted slaves, sleeping on straw, and feeding on the coarsest bread
+and herbs; till the hapless neophytes found that life was not so easily
+sustained in France as in Egypt; and complained to him that it was in
+vain to try “to make them live like angels, when they were only Gauls.”
+
+Another centre of piety and civilization was the rocky isle of Lerins,
+off the port of Toulon.  Covered with the ruins of an ancient Roman city,
+and swarming with serpents, it was colonized again, in A.D. 410, by a
+young man of rank named Honoratus, who gathered round him a crowd of
+disciples, converted the desert isle into a garden of flowers and herbs,
+and made the sea-girt sanctuary of Lerins one of the most important spots
+of the then world.
+
+“The West,” says M. de Montalembert, “had thenceforth nothing to envy the
+East; and soon that retreat, destined by its founder to renew on the
+shores of Provence the austerities of the Thebaid, became a celebrated
+school of Christian theology and philosophy, a citadel inaccessible to
+the waves of the barbarian invasion, an asylum for the letters and
+sciences which were fleeing from Italy, then overrun by the Goths; and,
+lastly, a nursery of bishops and saints, who spread through Gaul the
+knowledge of the Gospel and the glory of Lerins.  We shall soon see the
+rays of his light flash even into Ireland and England, by the blessed
+hands of Patrick and Augustine.”
+
+In the year 425, Romanus, a young monk from the neighbourhood of Lyons,
+had gone up into the forests of the Jura, carrying with him the “Lives of
+the Hermits,” and a few seeds and tools; and had settled beneath an
+enormous pine; shut out from mankind by precipices, torrents, and the
+tangled trunks of primæval trees, which had fallen and rotted on each
+other age after age.  His brother Lupicinus joined him; then crowds of
+disciples; then his sister, and a multitude of women.  The forests were
+cleared, the slopes planted; a manufacture of box-wood articles—chairs
+among the rest—was begun; and within the next fifty years the Abbey of
+Condat, or St. Claude, as it was afterwards called, had become, not
+merely an agricultural colony, or even merely a minster for the perpetual
+worship of God, but the first school of that part of Gaul; in which the
+works of Greek as well as Latin orators were taught, not only to the
+young monks, but to young laymen likewise.
+
+Meanwhile the volcanic peaks of the Auvergne were hiding from their Arian
+invaders the ruined gentry of Central France.  Effeminate and luxurious
+slave-holders, as they are painted by Sidonius Appolineris, bishop of
+Clermont, in that same Auvergne, nothing was left for them when their
+wealth was gone but to become monks: and monks they became.  The lava
+grottoes held hermits, who saw visions and dæmons, as St. Antony had seen
+them in Egypt; while near Trêves, on the Moselle, a young hermit named
+Wolflaich tried to imitate St. Simeon Stylites’ penance on the pillar;
+till his bishop, foreseeing that in that severe climate he would only
+kill himself, wheedled him away from his station, pulled down the pillar
+in his absence, and bade him be a wiser man.  Another figure, and a more
+interesting one, is the famous St. Goar; a Gaul, seemingly (from the
+recorded names of his parents) of noble Roman blood, who took his station
+on the Rhine, under the cliffs of that Lurlei so famous in legend and
+ballad as haunted by some fair fiend, whose treacherous song lured the
+boatmen into the whirlpool at their foot.  To rescue the shipwrecked
+boatmen, to lodge, feed, and if need be clothe, the travellers along the
+Rhine bank, was St. Goar’s especial work; and Wandelbert, the monk of
+Prum, in the Eifel, who wrote his life at considerable length, tells us
+how St. Goar was accused to the Archbishop of Trêves as a hypocrite and a
+glutton, because he ate freely with his guests; and how his calumniators
+took him through the forest to Trêves; and how he performed divers
+miracles, both on the road and in the palace of the Archbishop, notably
+the famous one of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam, mistaking it for a
+peg.  And other miracles of his there are, some of them not altogether
+edifying: but no reader is bound to believe them, as Wandelbert is
+evidently writing in the interests of the Abbey of Prum as against those
+of the Prince-Bishops of Trêves; and with a monk’s or regular’s usual
+jealousy of the secular or parochial clergy and their bishops.
+
+A more important personage than any of these is the famous St. Benedict,
+father of the Benedictine order, and “father of all monks,” as he was
+afterwards called, who, beginning himself as a hermit, caused the hermit
+life to fall, not into disrepute, but into comparative disuse; while the
+cœnobitic life—that is, life, not in separate cells, but in corporate
+bodies, with common property, and under one common rule—was accepted as
+the general form of the religious life in the West.  As the author of
+this organization, and of the Benedictine order, to whose learning, as
+well as to whose piety, the world has owed so much, his life belongs
+rather to a history of the monastic orders than to that of the early
+hermits.  But it must be always remembered that it was as a hermit that
+his genius was trained; that in solitude he conceived his vast plans; in
+solitude he elaborated the really wise and noble rules of his, which he
+afterwards carried out as far as he could during his lifetime in the busy
+world; and which endured for centuries, a solid piece of practical good
+work.  For the existence of monks was an admitted fact; even an admitted
+necessity: St. Benedict’s work was to tell them, if they chose to be
+monks, what sort of persons they ought to be, and how they ought to live,
+in order to fulfil their own ideal.  In the solitude of the hills of
+Subiaco, above the ruined palace of Nero, above, too, the town of
+Nurscia, of whose lords he was the last remaining scion, he fled to the
+mountain grotto, to live the outward life of a wild beast, and, as he
+conceived, the inward life of an angel.  How he founded twelve
+monasteries; how he fled with some of his younger disciples, to withdraw
+them from the disgusting persecutions and temptations of the neighbouring
+secular clergy; how he settled himself on the still famous Monte Cassino,
+which looks down upon the Gulf of Gaeta, and founded there the
+“Archi-Monasterium of Europe,” whose abbot was in due time first premier
+baron of the kingdom of Naples,—which counted among its dependencies
+{245} four bishoprics, two principalities, twenty earldoms, two hundred
+and fifty castles, four hundred and forty towns or villages, three
+hundred and thirty-six manors, twenty-three seaports, three isles, two
+hundred mills, three hundred territories, sixteen hundred and sixty-two
+churches, and at the end of the sixteenth century an annual revenue of
+1,500,000 ducats,—are matters which hardly belong to this volume, which
+deals merely with the lives of hermits.
+
+
+
+
+THE CELTIC HERMITS
+
+
+IT is not necessary to enter into the vexed question whether any
+Christianity ever existed in these islands of an earlier and purer type
+than that which was professed and practised by the saintly disciples of
+St. Antony.  It is at least certain that the earliest historic figures
+which emerge from the haze of barbarous antiquity in both the Britains
+and in Ireland, are those of hermits, who, in celibacy and poverty,
+gather round them disciples, found a convent, convert and baptize the
+heathen, and often, like Antony and Hilarion, escape from the bustle and
+toil of the world into their beloved desert.  They work the same
+miracles, see the same visions, and live in the same intimacy with the
+wild animals, as the hermits of Egypt, or of Roman Gaul: but their
+history, owing to the wild imagination and (as the legends themselves
+prove) the gross barbarism of the tribes among whom they dwell, are so
+involved in fable and legend, that it is all but impossible to separate
+fact from fiction; all but impossible, often, to fix the time at which
+they lived.
+
+Their mode of life, it must always be remembered, is said to be copied
+from that of the Roman hermits of Gaul.  St. Patrick, the apostle of
+Ireland, seems to have been of Roman or Roman British lineage.  In his
+famous “Confession” (which many learned antiquaries consider as genuine)
+he calls his father, Calphurnius a deacon; his grandfather, Potitus a
+priest—both of these names being Roman.  He is said to have visited, at
+some period of his life, the monastery of St. Martin at Tours; to have
+studied with St. Germanus at Auxerre; and to have gone to one of the
+islands of the Tuscan sea, probably Lerins itself; and, whether or not we
+believe the story that he was consecrated bishop by Pope Celestine at
+Rome, we can hardly doubt that he was a member of that great spiritual
+succession of ascetics who counted St. Antony as their father.
+
+Such another must that Palladius have been, who was sent, says Prosper of
+Aquitaine, by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish Scots, and who
+(according to another story) was cast on shore on the north-east coast of
+Scotland, founded the church of Fordun, in Kincardineshire, and became a
+great saint among the Pictish folk.
+
+Another primæval figure, almost as shadowy as St. Patrick, is St. Ninian,
+a monk of North Wales, who (according to Bede) first attempted the
+conversion of the Southern Picts, and built himself, at Whithorn in
+Galloway, the Candida Casa, or White House, a little church of stone,—a
+wonder in those days of “creel houses” and wooden stockades.  He too,
+according to Bede, who lived some 250 years after his time, went to Rome;
+and he is said to have visited and corresponded with St. Martin of Tours.
+
+Dubricius, again, whom legend makes the contemporary both of St. Patrick
+and of King Arthur, appears in Wales, as bishop and abbot of Llandaff.
+He too is ordained by a Roman bishop, St. Germanus of Auxerre; and he too
+ends his career, according to tradition, as a hermit, while his disciples
+spread away into Armorica (Brittany) and Ireland.
+
+We need not, therefore, be surprised to find Ireland, Wales, Cornwall,
+Scotland, and Brittany, during the next three centuries, swarming with
+saints, who kept up, whether in company or alone, the old hermit-life of
+the Thebaid; or to find them wandering, whether on missionary work, or in
+search of solitude, or escaping, like St. Cadoc the Wise, from the Saxon
+invaders.  Their frequent journeys to Rome, and even to Jerusalem, may
+perhaps be set down as a fable, invented in after years by monks who were
+anxious to prove their complete dependence on the Holy See, and their
+perfect communion with the older and more civilized Christianity of the
+Roman Empire.
+
+It is probable enough, also, that Romans from Gaul, as well as from
+Britain, often men of rank and education, who had fled before the
+invading Goths and Franks, and had devoted themselves (as we have seen
+that they often did) to the monastic life, should have escaped into those
+parts of these islands which had not already fallen into the hands of the
+Saxon invaders.  Ireland, as the most remote situation, would be
+especially inviting to the fugitives; and we can thus understand the
+story which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus, how fifty monks, “Romans
+born,” sailed to Ireland to learn the Scriptures, and to lead a stricter
+life; and were distributed between St. Senan, St. Finnian, St. Brendan,
+St. Barry, and St. Kieran.  By such immigrations as this, it may be,
+Ireland became—as she certainly was for a while—the refuge of what
+ecclesiastical civilization, learning, and art the barbarian invaders had
+spared; a sanctuary from whence, in after centuries, evangelists and
+teachers went forth once more, not only to Scotland and England, but to
+France and Germany.  Very fantastic, and often very beautiful, are the
+stories of these men; and sometimes tragical enough, like that of the
+Welsh St. Iltut, cousin of the mythic Arthur, and founder of the great
+monastery of Bangor, on the banks of the Dee, which was said—though we
+are not bound to believe the fact—to have held more than two thousand
+monks at the time of the Saxon invasion.  The wild warrior was converted,
+says this legend, by seeing the earth open and swallow up his comrades,
+who had extorted bread, beer, and a fat pig from St. Cadoc of Llancarvan,
+a princely hermit and abbot, who had persuaded his father and mother to
+embrace the hermit life as the regular, if not the only, way of saving
+their souls.  In a paroxysm of terror he fled from his fair young wife
+into the forest; would not allow her to share with him even his hut of
+branches; and devoted himself to the labour of making an immense dyke of
+mud and stones to keep out the inundations of a neighbouring river.  His
+poor wife went in search of him once more, and found him in the bottom of
+a dyke, no longer a gay knight, but poorly dressed, and covered with mud.
+She went away, and never saw him more; “fearing to displease God and one
+so beloved by God.”  Iltut dwelt afterwards for four years in a cave,
+sleeping on the bare rock, and seems at last to have crossed over to
+Brittany, and died at Dol.
+
+We must not forget—though he is not strictly a hermit—St. David, the
+popular saint of the Welsh, son of a nephew of the mythic Arthur, and
+educated by one Paulinus, a disciple, it is said, of St. Germanus of
+Auxerre.  He is at once monk and bishop: he gathers round him young monks
+in the wilderness, makes them till the ground, drawing the plough by
+their own strength, for he allows them not to own even an ox.  He does
+battle against “satraps” and “magicians”—probably heathen chieftains and
+Druids; he goes to the Holy Land, and is made archbishop by the Patriarch
+of Jerusalem: he introduces, it would seem, into this island the right of
+sanctuary for criminals in any field consecrated to himself.  He restores
+the church of Glastonbury over the tomb of his cousin, King Arthur, and
+dies at 100 years of age, “the head of the whole British nation, and
+honour of his fatherland.”  He is buried in one of his own monasteries at
+St. David’s, near the headland whence St. Patrick had seen, in a vision,
+all Ireland stretched out before him, waiting to be converted to Christ;
+and the Celtic people go on pilgrimage to his tomb, even from Brittany
+and Ireland: and, canonized in 1120, he becomes the patron saint of
+Wales.
+
+From that same point, in what year is not said, an old monk of St.
+David’s monastery, named Modonnoc, set sail for Ireland, after a long
+life of labour and virtue.  A swarm of bees settled upon the bow of his
+boat, and would not be driven away.  He took them, whether he would or
+not, with him into Ireland, and introduced there, says the legend, the
+culture of bees and the use of honey.
+
+Ireland was then the “Isle of Saints.”  Three orders of them were counted
+by later historians: the bishops (who seem not to have had necessarily
+territorial dioceses), with St. Patrick at their head, shining like the
+sun; the second, of priests, under St. Columba, shining like the moon;
+and the third, of bishops, priests, and hermits, under Colman and Aidan,
+shining like the stars.  Their legends, full of Irish poetry and
+tenderness, and not without touches here and there of genuine Irish
+humour, lie buried now, to all save antiquaries, in the folios of the
+Bollandists and Colgan: but the memory of their virtue and beneficence,
+as well as of their miracles, shadowy and distorted by the lapse of
+centuries, is rooted in the heart and brain of the Irish peasantry; and
+who shall say altogether for evil?  For with the tradition of their
+miracles has been entwined the tradition of their virtues, as an enduring
+heirloom for the whole Irish race, through the sad centuries which part
+the era of saints from the present time.  We see the Irish women kneeling
+beside some well, whose waters were hallowed, ages since, by the fancied
+miracle of some mythic saint, and hanging gaudy rags (just as do the half
+savage Buddhists of the Himalayas) upon the bushes round.  We see them
+upon holy days crawling on bare and bleeding knees around St. Patrick’s
+cell, on the top of Croagh Patrick, the grandest mountain, perhaps, with
+the grandest outlook, in these British Isles, where stands still, I
+believe, an ancient wooden image, said to have belonged to St. Patrick
+himself; and where, too, hung till late years (it is now preserved in
+Dublin) an ancient bell; such a strange little oblong bell as the Irish
+saints carried with them to keep off dæmons; one of those magic bells
+which appear, so far as I am aware, in no country save Ireland and
+Scotland till we come to Tartary and the Buddhists: such a bell as came
+down from heaven to St. Senan: such a bell as St. Fursey sent flying
+through the air to greet St. Cuandy at his devotions when he could not
+come himself: such a bell as another saint, wandering in the woods, rang
+till a stag came out of the covert, and carried it for him on his horns.
+On that peak, so legends tell, St. Patrick stood once, in the spirit and
+power of Elias—after whom the mountain was long named; fasting, like
+Elias, forty days and forty nights, and wrestling with the dæmons of the
+storm, and the snakes of the fen, and the Peishta-More, the gigantic
+monster of the lakes, till he smote the evil things with the golden rod
+of Jesus, and they rolled over the cliff in hideous rout, and perished in
+the Atlantic far below.  We know that these tales are but the dreams of
+children: but shall we sneer at the devotion of those poor Irish?  Not if
+we remember (what is an undoubted fact) that the memory of these same
+saints has kept up in their minds an ideal of nobleness and purity,
+devotion and beneficence, which, down-trodden slaves as they have been,
+they would otherwise have inevitably lost; that it has helped to preserve
+them from mere brutality, and mere ferocity; and that the thought that
+these men were of their own race and their own kin has given them a pride
+in their own race, a sense of national unity and of national dignity,
+which has endured—and surely for their benefit, for reverence for
+ancestors and the self-respect which springs from it is a benefit to
+every human being—through all the miseries, deserved or undeserved, which
+have fallen upon the Irish since Pope Adrian IV. (the true author of all
+the woes of Ireland), in the year 1155, commissioned Henry II. to conquer
+Ireland and destroy its primæval Church, on consideration of receiving
+his share of the booty in the shape of Peter’s Pence.
+
+Among these Irish saints, two names stand out as especially interesting:
+that of St. Brendan, and that of St. Columba—the former as the
+representative of the sailor monks of the early period, the other as the
+great missionary who, leaving his monastery at Durrow, in Ireland, for
+the famous island of Hy, Iona, or Icolumbkill, off the western point of
+Mull, became the apostle of Scotland and the north of England.  I shall
+first speak of St. Brendan, and at some length.  His name has become
+lately familiar to many, through the medium of two very beautiful poems,
+one by Mr. Matthew Arnold, and the other by Mr. Sebastian Evans; and it
+may interest those who have read their versions of the story to see the
+oldest form in which the story now exists.
+
+The Celts, it must be remembered, are not, in general, a sea-going folk.
+They have always neglected the rich fisheries of their coasts; and in
+Ireland every seaport owes its existence, not to the natives, but to
+Norse colonists.  Even now, the Irishman or Western Highlander, who
+emigrates to escape the “Saxons,” sails in a ship built and manned by
+those very “Saxons,” to lands which the Saxons have discovered and
+civilized.  But in the seventh and eighth centuries, and perhaps earlier,
+many Celts were voyagers and emigrants, not to discover new worlds, but
+to flee from the old one.  There were deserts in the sea, as well as on
+land; in them they hoped to escape from men, and, yet more, from women.
+
+They went against their carnal will.  They had no liking for the salt
+water.  They were horribly frightened, and often wept bitterly, as they
+themselves confess.  And they had reason for fear; for their vessels
+were, for the most part, only “curachs” (coracles) of wattled twigs,
+covered with tanned hides.  They needed continual exhortation and comfort
+from the holy man who was their captain; and needed often miracles
+likewise for their preservation.  Tempests had to be changed into calm,
+and contrary winds into fair ones, by the prayers of a saint; and the
+spirit of prophecy was needed, to predict that a whale would be met
+between Iona and Tiree, who appeared accordingly, to the extreme terror
+of St. Berach’s crew, swimming with open jaws, and (intent on eating, not
+monks, but herrings) nearly upsetting them by the swell which he raised.
+And when St. Baithenius met the same whale on the same day, it was
+necessary for him to rise, and bless, with outspread hands, the sea and
+the whale, in order to make him sink again, after having risen to
+breathe.  But they sailed forth, nevertheless, not knowing whither they
+went; true to their great principle, that the spirit must conquer the
+flesh: and so showed themselves actually braver men than the Norse
+pirates, who sailed afterwards over the same seas without fear, and
+without the need of miracles, and who found everywhere on desert islands,
+on sea-washed stacks and skerries, round Orkney, Shetland, and the
+Faroës, even to Iceland, the cells of these “Papas” or Popes; and named
+them after the old hermits, whose memory still lingers in the names of
+Papa Strona and Papa Westra, in the Orkneys, and in that of Papey, off
+the coast of Iceland, where the first Norse settlers found Irish books,
+bells, and crosiers, the relics of old hermits who had long since fasted
+and prayed their last, and migrated to the Lord.
+
+Adanman, in his life of St. Columba, tells of more than one such voyage.
+He tells how one Baitanus, with the saint’s blessing, sailed forth to
+find “a desert” in the sea; and how when he was gone, the saint
+prophesied that he should be buried, not in a desert isle, but where a
+woman should drive sheep over his grave, the which came true in the
+oak-wood of Calgaich, now Londonderry, whither he came back again.  He
+tells, again, of one Cormac, “a knight of Christ,” who three times sailed
+forth in a coracle to find some desert isle, and three times failed of
+his purpose; and how, in his last voyage, he was driven northward by the
+wind fourteen days’ sail, till he came where the summer sea was full of
+foul little stinging creatures, of the size of frogs, which beat against
+the sides of the frail boat, till all expected them to be stove in.  They
+clung, moreover, to the oar blades; {256} and Cormac was in some danger
+of never seeing land again, had not St. Columba, at home in Iona far
+away, seen him in a vision, him and his fellows, praying and “watering
+their cheeks with floods of tears,” in the midst of “perturbations
+monstrous, horrific, never seen before, and almost unspeakable.”  Calling
+together his monks, he bade them pray for a north wind, which came
+accordingly, and blew Cormac safe back to Iona, to tempt the waves no
+more.  “Let the reader therefore perpend how great and what manner of man
+this same blessed personage was, who, having so great prophetic
+knowledge, could command, by invoking the name of Christ, the winds and
+ocean.”
+
+Even as late as the year 891, says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: “Three
+Scots came to King Alfred, in a boat without any oars, from Ireland,
+whence they had stolen away, because for the love of God they desired to
+be on pilgrimage, they recked not where.  The boat in which they came was
+made of two hides and a half; and they took with them provisions for
+seven days; and about the seventh day they came on shore in Cornwall, and
+soon after went to King Alfred.  Thus they were named, Dubslane, and
+Macbeth, and Maelinmun.”
+
+Out of such wild feats as these; out of dim reports of fairy islands in
+the west; of the Canaries and Azores; of that Vinland, with its wild corn
+and wild grapes which Leif, the son of Eirek Rauda, had found beyond the
+ocean a thousand years and one after the birth of Christ; of icebergs and
+floes sailing in the far northern sea, upon the edge of the six-months’
+night; out of Edda stories of the Midgard snake, which is coiled round
+the world; out of reports, it may be, of Indian fakirs and Buddhist
+shamans; out of scraps of Greek and Arab myth, from the Odyssey or the
+Arabian Nights, brought home by “Jorsala Farar,” vikings who had been for
+pilgrimage and plunder up the Straits of Gibraltar into the far East;—out
+of all these materials were made up, as years rolled on, the famous
+legend of St. Brendan and his seven years’ voyage in search of the “land
+promised to the saints.”
+
+This tale was so popular in the middle age, that it appears, in different
+shapes, in almost every early European language. {257}  It was not only
+the delight of monks, but it stirred up to wild voyages many a secular
+man in search of St. Brendan’s Isle, “which is not found when it is
+sought,” but was said to be visible at times, from Palma in the Canaries.
+The myth must have been well known to Columbus, and may have helped to
+send him forth in search of “Cathay.”  Thither (so the Spanish peasants
+believed) Don Roderic had retired from the Moorish invaders.  There (so
+the Portuguese fancied) King Sebastian was hidden from men, after his
+reported death in the battle of Alcazar.  The West Indies, when they were
+first seen, were surely St. Brendan’s Isle: and the Mississippi may have
+been, in the eyes of such old adventurers as Don Ferdinando da Soto, when
+he sought for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, the very river which St.
+Brendan found parting in two the Land of Promise.  From the year 1526
+(says M. Jubinal), till as late as 1721, armaments went forth from time
+to time into the Atlantic, and went forth in vain.
+
+For the whole tale, from whatever dim reports of fact they may have
+sprung, is truly (as M. Jubinal calls it) a monkish Odyssey, and nothing
+more.  It is a dream of the hermit’s cell.  No woman, no city, nor
+nation, are ever seen during the seven years’ voyage.  Ideal monasteries
+and ideal hermits people the “deserts of the ocean.”  All beings therein
+(save dæmons and Cyclops) are Christians, even to the very birds, and
+keep the festivals of the Church as eternal laws of nature.  The voyage
+succeeds, not by seamanship, or geographic knowledge, nor even by chance:
+but by the miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he meets;
+and the wanderings of Ulysses, or of Sinbad, are rational and human in
+comparison with those of St. Brendan.
+
+Yet there are in them, as was to be expected, elements in which the Greek
+or the Arab legends are altogether deficient; perfect innocence,
+patience, and justice; utter faith in a God who prospers the innocent and
+punishes the guilty; ennobling obedience to the saint, who stands out a
+truly heroic figure above his trembling crew; and even more valuable
+still, the belief in, the craving for, an ideal, even though that ideal
+be that of a mere earthly Paradise; the “divine discontent,” as it has
+been well called, which is the root of all true progress; which leaves
+(thank God) no man at peace save him who has said, “Let us eat and drink,
+for to-morrow we die.”
+
+And therefore I have written at some length the story of St. Brendan;
+because, though it be but a monk-ideal, it is an ideal still: and
+therefore profitable for all who are not content with this world, and its
+paltry ways.
+
+Saint Brendan, we read, the son of Finnloga, and great grandson of Alta,
+son of Ogaman, of the race of Ciar son of Fergus, was born at Tralee, and
+founded, in 559, the Abbey of Clonfert, {260a} and was a man famous for
+his great abstinence and virtues, and the father of nearly 3,000 monks.
+{260b}  And while he was “in his warfare,” there came to him one evening
+a holy hermit named “Barintus,” of the royal race of Neill; and when he
+was questioned, he did nought but cast himself on the ground, and weep
+and pray.  And when St. Brendan asked him to make better cheer for him
+and his monks, he told him a strange tale.  How a nephew of his had fled
+away to be a solitary, and found a delicious island, and established a
+monastery therein; and how he himself had gone to see his nephew, and
+sailed with him to the eastward to an island, which was called “the land
+of promise of the saints,” wide and grassy, and bearing all manner of
+fruits; wherein was no night, for the Lord Jesus Christ was the light
+thereof; and how they abode there for a long while without eating and
+drinking; and when they returned to his nephew’s monastery, the brethren
+knew well where they had been, for the fragrance of Paradise lingered on
+their garments for nearly forty days.
+
+So Barintus told his story, and went back to his cell.  But St. Brendan
+called together his most loving fellow-warriors, as he called them, and
+told them how he had set his heart on seeking that Promised Land.  And he
+went up to the top of the hill in Kerry, which is still called Mount
+Brendan, with fourteen chosen monks; and there, at the utmost corner of
+the world, he built him a coracle of wattle, and covered it with hides
+tanned in oak-bark and softened with butter, and set up in it a mast and
+a sail, and took forty days’ provision, and commanded his monks to enter
+the boat, in the name of the Holy Trinity.  And as he stood alone,
+praying on the shore, three more monks from his monastery came up, and
+fell at his feet, and begged to go too, or they would die in that place
+of hunger and thirst; for they were determined to wander with him all the
+days of their life.  So he gave them leave.  But two of them, he
+prophesied, would come to harm and to judgment.  So they sailed away
+toward the summer solstice, with a fair wind, and had no need to row.
+But after twelve days the wind fell to a calm, and they had only light
+airs at night, till forty days were past, and all their victual spent.
+Then they saw toward the north a lofty island, walled round with cliffs,
+and went about it three days ere they could find a harbour.  And when
+they landed, a dog came fawning on them, and they followed it up to a
+great hall with beds and seats, and water to wash their feet.  But St.
+Brendan said, “Beware, lest Satan bring you into temptation.  For I see
+him busy with one of those three who followed us.”  Now the hall was hung
+all round with vessels of divers metals, and bits and horns overlaid with
+silver.  Then St. Brendan told his servant to bring the meal which God
+had prepared; and at once a table was laid with napkins, and loaves
+wondrous white, and fishes.  Then they blessed God, and ate, and took
+likewise drink as much as they would, and lay down to sleep.  Then St.
+Brendan saw the devil’s work; namely, a little black boy holding a silver
+bit, and calling the brother aforementioned.  So they rested three days
+and three nights.  But when they went to the ship, St. Brendan charged
+them with theft, and told what was stolen, and who had stolen it.  Then
+the brother cast out of his bosom a silver bit, and prayed for mercy.
+And when he was forgiven and raised up from the ground, behold, a little
+black boy flew out of his bosom, howling aloud, and crying, “Why, O man
+of God, dost thou drive me from my habitation, where I have dwelt for
+seven years?”
+
+Then the brother received the Holy Eucharist, and died straightway, and
+was buried in that isle, and the brethren saw the angels carry his soul
+aloft, for St. Brendan had told him that so it should be: but that the
+brother who came with him should have his sepulchre in hell.  And as they
+went on board, a youth met them with a basket of loaves and a bottle of
+water, and told them that it would not fail till Pentecost.
+
+Then they sailed again many days, till they came to an isle full of great
+streams and fountains swarming with fish; and sheep there all white, as
+big as oxen, so many that they hid the face of the earth.  And they
+stayed there till Easter Eve, and took one of the sheep (which followed
+them as if it had been tame) to eat for the Paschal feast.  Then came a
+man with loaves baked in the ashes, and other victual, and fell down
+before St. Brendan and cried, “How have I merited this, O pearl of God,
+that thou shouldest be fed at this holy tide from the labours of my
+hand?”
+
+And they learned from that man that the sheep grew there so big because
+they were never milked, nor pinched with winter, but they fed in those
+pastures all the year round.  Moreover, he told them that they must keep
+Easter in an isle hard by, opposite a shore to the west, which some
+called the Paradise of Birds.
+
+So to the nearest island they sailed.  It had no harbour, nor sandy
+shore, and there was no turf on it, and very little wood.  Now the Saint
+knew what manner of isle it was, but he would not tell the brethren, lest
+they should be terrified.  So he bade them make the boat fast stem and
+stern, and when morning came he bade those who were priests to celebrate
+each a mass, and then to take the lamb’s fleece on shore and cook it in
+the caldron with salt, while St. Brendan remained in the boat.
+
+But when the fire blazed up, and the pot began to boil, that island began
+to move like water.  Then the brethren ran to the boat imploring St.
+Brendan’s aid; and he helped them each in by the hand, and cast off.
+After which the island sank in the ocean.  And when they could see their
+fire burning more than two miles off, St. Brendan told them how that God
+had revealed to him that night the mystery; that this was no isle, but
+the biggest of all fishes which swam in the ocean, always it tries to
+make its head and its tail meet, but cannot, by reason of its length; and
+its name is Jasconius.
+
+Then, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, very grassy and
+wooded, and full of flowers.  And they found a little stream, and towed
+the boat up it (for the stream was of the same width as the boat), with
+St. Brendan sitting on board, till they came to the fountain thereof.
+Then said the holy father, “See, brethren, the Lord has given us a place
+wherein to celebrate his holy Resurrection.  And if we had nought else,
+this fountain, I think, would serve for food as well as drink.”  For the
+fountain was too admirable.  Over it was a huge tree of wonderful
+breadth, but no great height, covered with snow-white birds, so that its
+leaves and boughs could scarce be seen.
+
+And when the man of God saw that, he was so desirous to know the cause of
+that assemblage of birds, that he besought God upon his knees, with
+tears, saying, “God, who knowest the unknown, and revealest the hidden,
+thou knowest the anxiety of my heart. . . .  Deign of thy great mercy to
+reveal to me thy secret. . . .  But not for the merit of my own dignity,
+but regarding thy clemency, do I presume to ask.”
+
+Then one of those birds flew from off the tree, and his wings sounded
+like bells over the boat.  And he sat on the prow, and spread his wings
+joyfully, and looked quietly on St. Brendan.  And when the man of God
+questioned that bird, it told how they were of the spirits which fell in
+the great ruin of the old enemy; not by sin or by consent, but
+predestined by the piety of God to fall with those with whom they were
+created.  But they suffered no punishment; only they could not, in part,
+behold the presence of God.  They wandered about this world, like other
+spirits of the air, and firmament, and earth.  But on holy days they took
+those shapes of birds, and praised their Creator in that place.
+
+Then the bird told him, how he and his monks had wandered one year
+already, and should wander for six more; and every year should celebrate
+their Easter in that place, and after find the Land of Promise; and so
+flew back to its tree.
+
+And when the eventide was come, the birds began all with one voice to
+sing, and clap their wings, crying, “Thou, O God, art praised in Zion,
+and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem.”  And always they
+repeated that verse for an hour, and their melody and the clapping of
+their wings was like music which drew tears by its sweetness.
+
+And when the man of God wakened his monks at the third watch of the night
+with the verse, “Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord,” all the birds
+answered, “Praise the Lord, all his angels; praise him, all his virtues.”
+And when the dawn shone, they sang again, “The splendour of the Lord God
+is over us;” and at the third hour, “Sing psalms to our God, sing; sing
+to our King, sing with wisdom.”  And at the sixth, “The Lord hath lifted
+up the light of his countenance upon us, and had mercy on us.”  And at
+the ninth, “Behold how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in
+unity.”  So day and night those birds gave praise to God.  St. Brendan,
+therefore, seeing these things, gave thanks to God for all his marvels,
+and the brethren were refreshed with that spiritual food till the octave
+of Easter.
+
+After which, St. Brendan advised to take of the water of the fountain;
+for till then they had only used it to wash their feet and hands.  But
+there came to him the same man who had been with them three days before
+Easter, and with his boat full of meat and drink, and said, “My brothers,
+here you have enough to last till Pentecost: but do not drink of that
+fountain.  For its nature is, that whosoever drinks will sleep for
+four-and-twenty hours.”  So they stayed till Pentecost, and rejoiced in
+the song of the birds.  And after mass at Pentecost, the man brought them
+food again, and bade them take of the water of the fountain and depart.
+Then the birds came again, and sat upon the prow, and told them how they
+must, every year, celebrate Easter in the Isle of Birds, and Easter Eve
+upon the back of the fish Jasconius; and how, after eight months, they
+should come to the isle called Ailbey, and keep their Christmas there.
+
+After which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of sight of
+land, and only eating after every two or three days, till they came to an
+island, along which they sailed for forty days, and found no harbour.
+Then they wept and prayed, for they were almost worn out with weariness;
+and after they had fasted and prayed for three days, they saw a narrow
+harbour, and two fountains, one foul, one clear.  But when the brethren
+hurried to draw water, St. Brendan (as he had done once before) forbade
+them, saying that they must take nought without leave from the elders who
+were in that isle.
+
+And of the wonders which they saw in that isle it were too long to tell:
+how there met them an exceeding old man, with snow-white hair, who fell
+at St. Brendan’s feet three times, and led him in silence up to a
+monastery of four-and-twenty silent monks, who washed their feet, and fed
+them with bread and water, and roots of wonderful sweetness; and then at
+last, opening his mouth, told them how that bread was sent them
+perpetually, they knew not from whence; and how they had been there
+eighty years, since the times of St. Patrick, and how their father Ailbey
+and Christ had nourished them; and how they grew no older, nor ever fell
+sick, nor were overcome by cold or heat; and how brother never spoke to
+brother, but all things were done by signs; and how he led them to a
+square chapel, with three candles before the mid-altar, and two before
+each of the side altars; and how they, and the chalices and patens, and
+all the other vessels, were of crystal; and how the candles were lighted
+always by a fiery arrow, which came in through the window, and returned;
+and how St. Brendan kept his Christmas there, and then sailed away till
+Lent, and came to a fruitful island where he found fish; and how when
+certain brethren drank too much of the charmed water they slept, some
+three days, and some one; and how they sailed north, and then east, till
+they came back to the Isle of Sheep at Easter, and found on the shore
+their caldron, which they had lost on Jasconius’s back; and how, sailing
+away, they were chased by a mighty fish which spouted foam, but was slain
+by another fish which spouted fire; and how they took enough of its flesh
+to last them three months; and how they came to an island flat as the
+sea, without trees, or aught that waved in the wind; and how on that
+island were three troops of monks (as the holy man had foretold),
+standing a stone’s throw from each other: the first of boys, robed in
+snow-white; the second of young men, dressed in hyacinthine; the third of
+old men, in purple dalmatics, singing alternately their psalms, all day
+and night: and how when they stopped singing, a cloud of wondrous
+brightness overshadowed the isle; and how two of the young men, ere they
+sailed away, brought baskets of grapes, and asked that one of the monks
+(as had been prophesied) should remain with them, in the Isle of Strong
+Men; and how St. Brendan let him go, saying, “In a good hour did thy
+mother conceive thee, because thou hast merited to dwell with such a
+congregation;” and how those grapes were so big, that a pound of juice
+ran out of each of them, and an ounce thereof fed each brother for a
+whole day, and was as sweet as honey; and how a magnificent bird dropped
+into the ship the bough of an unknown tree, with a bunch of grapes
+thereon; and how they came to a land where the trees were all bowed down
+with vines, and their odour as the odour of a house full of pomegranates;
+and how they fed forty days on those grapes, and strange herbs and roots;
+and how they saw flying against them the bird which is called gryphon;
+and how that bird who had brought the bough tore out the gryphon’s eyes,
+and slew him; and how they looked down into the clear sea, and saw all
+the fishes sailing round and round, head to tail, innumerable as flocks
+in the pastures, and were terrified, and would have had the man of God
+celebrate mass in silence, lest the fish should hear, and attack them;
+and how the man of God laughed at their folly; and how they came to a
+column of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy round it of the colour
+of silver, harder than marble, and sailed in through an opening, and
+found it all light within; {269} and how they found in that hall a
+chalice of the same stuff as the canopy, and a paten of that of the
+column, and took them, that they might make many believe; and how they
+sailed out again, and past a treeless island, covered with slag and
+forges; and how a great hairy man, fiery and smutty, came down and
+shouted after them; and how when they made the sign of the Cross and
+sailed away, he and his fellows brought down huge lumps of burning slag
+in tongs, and hurled them after the ship; and how they went back, and
+blew their forges up, till the whole island flared, and the sea boiled,
+and the howling and stench followed them, even when they were out of
+sight of that evil isle; and how St. Brendan bade them strengthen
+themselves in faith and spiritual arms, for they were now on the confines
+of hell, therefore they must watch, and play the man.  All this must
+needs be hastened over, that we may come to the famous legend of Judas
+Iscariot.
+
+They saw a great and high mountain toward the north, with smoke about its
+peak.  And the wind blew them close under the cliffs, which were of
+immense height, so that they could hardly see their top, upright as
+walls, and black as coal. {270}  Then he who remained of the three
+brethren who had followed St. Brendan sprang out of the ship, and waded
+to the cliff foot, groaning, and crying, “Woe to me, father, for I am
+carried away from you; and cannot turn back.”  Then the brethren backed
+the ship, and cried to the Lord for mercy.  But the blessed Father
+Brendan saw how that wretch was carried off by a multitude of devils, and
+all on fire among them.  Then a fair wind blew them away southward; and
+when they looked back they saw the peak of the isle uncovered, and flame
+spouting from it up to heaven, and sinking back again, till the whole
+mountain seemed one burning pile.
+
+After that terrible vision they sailed seven days to the south, till
+Father Brendan saw a dense cloud; when they neared it, a form as of a man
+sitting, and before him a veil, as big as a sack, hanging between two
+iron tongs, and rocking on the waves like a boat in a whirlwind.  Which
+when the brethren saw some thought was a bird, and some a boat; but the
+man of God bade them give over arguing, and row thither.  And when they
+got near, the waves were still, as if they had been frozen; and they
+found a man sitting on a rough and shapeless rock, and the waves beating
+over his head; and when they fell back, the bare rock appeared on which
+that wretch was sitting.  And the cloth which hung before him the wind
+moved, and beat him with it on the eyes and brow.  But when the blessed
+man asked him who he was, and how he had earned that doom, he said, “I am
+that most wretched Judas, who made the worst of all bargains.  But I hold
+not this place for any merit of my own, but for the ineffable mercy of
+Christ.  I expect no place of repentance: but for the indulgence and
+mercy of the Redeemer of the world, and for the honour of His holy
+resurrection, I have this refreshment; for it is the Lord’s-day now, and
+as I sit here I seem to myself in a paradise of delight, by reason of the
+pains which will be mine this evening; for when I am in my pains I burn
+day and night like lead melted in a pot.  But in the midst of that
+mountain which you saw, is Leviathan with his satellites, and I was there
+when he swallowed your brother; and therefore the king of hell rejoiced,
+and sent forth huge flames, as he doth always when he devours the souls
+of the impious.”  Then he told them how he had his refreshings there
+every Lord’s-day from even to even, and from Christmas to Epiphany, and
+from Easter to Pentecost, and from the Purification of the Blessed Virgin
+to her Assumption: but the rest of his time he was tormented with Herod
+and Pilate, Annas and Caiaphas; and so adjured them to intercede for him
+with the Lord that he might be there at least till sunrise in the morn.
+To whom the man of God said, “The will of the Lord be done.  Thou shalt
+not be carried off by the dæmons till to-morrow.”  Then he asked him of
+that clothing, and he told how he had given it to a leper when he was the
+Lord’s chamberlain; “but because it was no more mine than it was the
+Lord’s and the other brethren’s, therefore it is of no comfort to me, but
+rather a hurt.  And these forks I gave to the priests to hang their
+caldrons on.  And this stone on which I always sit I took off the road,
+and threw it into a ditch for a stepping-stone, before I was a disciple
+of the Lord.” {272}
+
+“But when the evening hour had covered the face of Thetis,” behold a
+multitude of dæmons shouting in a ring, and bidding the man of God
+depart, for else they could not approach; and they dared not behold their
+prince’s face unless they brought back their prey.  But the man of God
+bade them depart.  And in the morning an infinite multitude of devils
+covered the face of the abyss, and cursed the man of God for coming
+thither; for their prince had scourged them cruelly that night for not
+bringing back the captive.  But the man of God returned their curses on
+their own heads, saying that “cursed was he whom they blest, and blessed
+he whom they cursed;” and when they threatened Judas with double torments
+because he had not come back, the man of God rebuked them.
+
+“Art thou, then, Lord of all,” they asked, “that we should obey thee?”
+“I am the servant,” said he, “of the Lord of all; and whatsoever I
+command in his name is done; and I have no ministry save what he concedes
+to me.”
+
+So they blasphemed him till he left Judas, and then returned, and carried
+off that wretched soul with great rushing and howling.
+
+After which they saw a little isle; and the holy man told them that now
+seven years were nigh past; and that in that isle they should soon see a
+hermit, named Paul the Spiritual, who had lived for sixty years without
+any corporeal food, but for thirty years before that he had received food
+from a certain beast.
+
+The isle was very small, about a furlong round; a bare rock, so steep
+that they could find no landing-place.  But at last they found a creek,
+into which they thrust the boat’s bow, and then discovered a very
+difficult ascent.  Up that the man of God climbed, bidding them wait for
+him, for they must not enter the isle without the hermit’s leave; and
+when he came to the top he saw two caves, with their mouths opposite each
+other, and a very small round well before the cave mouth, whose waters,
+as fast as they ran out, were sucked in again by the rock. {274}  As he
+went to one entrance, the old man came out of the other, saying, “Behold
+how good and pleasant it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity,” and
+bade him call up the brethren from the boat; and when they came, he
+kissed them, and called them each by his name.  Whereat they marvelled,
+not only at his spirit of prophecy, but also at his attire; for he was
+all covered with his locks and beard, and with the other hair of his
+body, down to his feet.  His hair was white as snow for age, and none
+other covering had he.  When St. Brendan saw that, he sighed again and
+again, and said within himself, “Woe is me, sinner that I am, who wear a
+monk’s habit, and have many monks under me, when I see a man of angelic
+dignity sitting in a cell, still in the flesh, and unhurt by the vices of
+the flesh.”  To whom the man of God answered, “Venerable father, what
+great and many wonders God hath showed thee, which he hath manifested to
+none of the fathers, and thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not
+worthy to wear a monk’s habit.  I tell thee, father, that thou art
+greater than a monk; for a monk is fed and clothed by the work of his own
+hands: but God has fed and clothed thee and thy family for seven years
+with his secret things, while wretched I sit here on this rock like a
+bird, naked save the hair of my body.”
+
+Then St. Brendan asked him how and whence he came thither; and he told
+how he was nourished in St. Patrick’s monastery for fifty years, and took
+care of the cemetery; and how when the dean had bidden him dig a grave,
+an old man, whom he knew not, appeared to him, and forbade him, for that
+grave was another man’s.  And how he revealed to him that he was St.
+Patrick, his own abbot, who had died the day before, and bade him bury
+that brother elsewhere, and go down to the sea and find a boat, which
+would take him to the place where he should wait for the day of his
+death; and how he landed on that rock, and thrust the boat off with his
+foot, and it went swiftly back to its own land; and how, on the very
+first day, a beast came to him, walking on its hind paws, and between its
+fore paws a fish, and grass to make a fire, and laid them at his feet;
+and so every third day for twenty years; and every Lord’s day a little
+water came out of the rock, so that he could drink and wash his hands;
+and how after thirty years he had found these caves and that fountain,
+and had fed for the last sixty years on nought but the water thereof.
+For all the years of his life were 150, and henceforth he awaited the day
+of his judgment in that his flesh.
+
+Then they took of that water, and received his blessing, and kissed each
+other in the peace of Christ, and sailed southward: but their food was
+the water from the isle of the man of God.  Then (as Paul the Hermit had
+foretold) they came back on Easter Eve to the Isle of Sheep, and to him
+who used to give them victuals; and then went on to the fish Jasconius,
+and sang praises on his back all night, and mass at morn.  After which
+the fish carried them on his back to the Paradise of Birds, and there
+they stayed till Pentecost.  Then the man who always tended them, bade
+them fill their skins from the fountain, and he would lead them to the
+land promised to the saints.  And all the birds wished them a prosperous
+voyage in God’s name; and they sailed away, with forty days’ provision,
+the man being their guide, till after forty days they came at evening to
+a great darkness which lay round the Promised Land.  But after they had
+sailed through it for an hour, a great light shone round them, and the
+boat stopped at a shore.  And when they landed they saw a spacious land,
+full of trees bearing fruit as in autumn time.  And they walked about
+that land for forty days, eating of the fruit and drinking of the
+fountains, and found no end thereof.  And there was no night there, but
+the light shone like the light of the sun.  At last they came to a great
+river, which they could not cross, so that they could not find out the
+extent of that land.  And as they were pondering over this, a youth, with
+shining face and fair to look upon, met them, and kissed them with great
+joy, calling them each by his name, and said, “Brethren, peace be with
+you, and with all that follow the peace of Christ.”  And after that,
+“Blessed are they who dwell in thy house, O Lord; they shall be for ever
+praising thee.”
+
+Then he told St. Brendan that that was the land which he had been seeking
+for seven years, and that he must now return to his own country, taking
+of the fruits of that land, and of its precious gems, as much as his ship
+could carry; for the days of his departure were at hand, when he should
+sleep in peace with his holy brethren.  But after many days that land
+should be revealed to his successors, and should be a refuge for
+Christians in persecution.  As for the river that they saw, it parted
+that island; and the light shone there for ever, because Christ was the
+light thereof.
+
+Then St. Brendan asked if that land would ever be revealed to men: and
+the youth answered, that when the most high Creator should have put all
+nations under his feet, then that land should be manifested to all his
+elect.
+
+After which St. Brendan, when the youth had blessed him, took of the
+fruits and of the gems, and sailed back through the darkness, and
+returned to his monastery; whom when the brethren saw, they glorified God
+for the miracles which he had heard and seen.  After which he ended his
+life in peace.  Amen.
+
+Here ends (says the French version) concerning St. Brendan, and the
+marvels which he found in the sea of Ireland.
+
+
+
+
+ST. MALO
+
+
+INTERMINGLED, fantastically and inconsistently, with the story of St.
+Brendan, is that of St. Maclovius or Machutus, who has given his name to
+the seaport of St. Malo, in Brittany.  His life, written by Sigebert, a
+monk of Gembloux, about the year 1100, tells us how he was a Breton, who
+sailed with St. Brendan in search of the fairest of all islands, in which
+the citizens of heaven were said to dwell.  With St. Brendan St. Malo
+celebrated Easter on the whale’s back, and with St. Brendan he returned.
+But another old hagiographer, Johannes à Bosco, tells a different story,
+making St. Malo an Irishman brought up by St. Brendan, and preserved by
+his prayers from a wave of the sea.  He gives, moreover, to the Isle of
+Paradise the name of Inga, and says that St. Brendan and his companions
+never reached it after all, but came home after sailing round the Orkneys
+and other Northern isles.  The fact is, that the same saints reappear so
+often on both sides of the British and the Irish Channels, that we must
+take the existence of many of them as mere legend, which has been carried
+from land to land by monks in their migrations, and taken root upon each
+fresh soil which it has reached.  One incident in St. Malo’s voyage is so
+fantastic, and so grand likewise, that it must not be omitted.  The monks
+come to an island whereon they find the barrow of some giant of old time.
+St. Malo, seized with pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the
+mound and raises the dead to life.  Then follows a strange conversation
+between the giant and the saint.  He was slain, he says, by his kinsmen,
+and ever since has been tormented in the other world.  In that nether pit
+they know (he says) of the Holy Trinity: but that knowledge is rather
+harm than gain to them, because they did not choose to know it when alive
+on earth.  Therefore he begs to be baptized, and so delivered from his
+pain.  He is therefore instructed, catechised, and in due time baptized,
+and admitted to the Holy Communion.  For fifteen days more he remains
+alive: and then, dying once more, is again placed in his sepulchre, and
+left in peace.
+
+From fragmentary recollections of such tales as these (it may be observed
+in passing) may have sprung the strange fancy of the modern Cornishmen,
+which identifies these very Celtic saints of their own race with the
+giants who, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, inhabited the land before
+Brutus and his Trojans founded the Arthuric dynasty.  St. Just, for
+instance, who is one of the guardian saints of the Land’s End, and St.
+Kevern, one of the guardian saints of the Lizard, are both giants; and
+Cornishmen a few years since would tell how St. Just came from his
+hermitage by Cape Cornwall to visit St. Kevern in his cave on the east
+side of Goonhilly Downs; and how they took the Holy Communion together;
+and how St. Just, tempted by the beauty of St. Kevern’s paten and
+chalice, arose in the night and fled away with the holy vessels, wading
+first the Looe Pool, and then Mount’s Bay itself; and how St. Kevern
+pursued him, and hurled after him three great boulders of porphyry, two
+of which lie on the slates and granites to this day; till St. Just,
+terrified at the might of his saintly brother, tossed the stolen vessels
+ashore opposite St. Michael’s Mount, and, fleeing back to his own
+hermitage, never appeared again in the neighbourhood of St. Kevern.
+
+But to return.  St. Malo, coming home with St. Brendan, craves for peace,
+and solitude, and the hermit’s cell, and goes down to the sea-shore, to
+find a vessel which may carry him out once more into the infinite
+unknown.  Then there comes by a boat with no one in it but a little boy,
+who takes him on board, and carries him to the isle of the hermit Aaron,
+near the town of Aletha, which men call St. Malo now; and then the little
+boy vanishes away, and St. Malo knows that he was Christ himself.  There
+he lives with Aaron, till the Bretons of the neighbourhood make him their
+bishop.  He converts the idolaters around, and performs the usual
+miracles of hermit saints.  He changes water into wine, and restores to
+life not only a dead man, but a dead sow likewise, over whose motherless
+litter a wretched slave, who has by accident killed the sow with a stone,
+is weeping and wringing his hands in dread of his master’s fury.  While
+St. Malo is pruning vines, he lays his cape upon the ground, and a
+redbreast comes and lays an egg on it.  He leaves it there, for the
+bird’s sake, till the young are hatched, knowing, says his biographer,
+that without God the Father not a sparrow falls to the ground.  Hailoch,
+the prince of Brittany, destroys his church, and is struck blind.
+Restored to sight by the saint, he bestows large lands on the Church.
+“The impious generation,” who, with their children after them, have lost
+their property by Hailoch’s gift, rise against St. Malo.  They steal his
+horses, and in mockery leave him only a mare.  They beat his baker, tie
+his feet under the horse’s body, and leave him on the sand to be drowned
+by the rising tide.  The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, and the baker
+is saved.
+
+St. Malo, weary of the wicked Bretons, flees to Saintonge in Aquitaine,
+where he performs yet more miracles.  Meanwhile, a dire famine falls on
+the Bretons, and a thousand horrible diseases.  Penitent, they send for
+St. Malo, who delivers them and their flocks.  But, at the command of an
+angel, he returns to Saintonge and dies there, and Saintonge has his
+relics, and the innumerable miracles which they work, even to the days of
+Sigebert, of Gembloux.
+
+
+
+
+ST. COLUMBA
+
+
+THE famous St. Columba cannot perhaps be numbered among the hermits: but
+as the spiritual father of many hermits, as well as many monks, and as
+one whose influence upon the Christianity of these islands is notorious
+and extensive, he must needs have some notice in these pages.  Those who
+wish to study his life and works at length will of course read Dr.
+Reeves’s invaluable edition of Adamnan.  The more general reader will
+find all that he need know in Mr. Hill Burton’s excellent “History of
+Scotland,” chapters vii. and viii.; and also in Mr. Maclear’s “History of
+Christian Missions during the Middle Ages”—a book which should be in
+every Sunday library.
+
+St. Columba, like St. David and St. Cadoc of Wales, and like many great
+Irish saints, is a prince and a statesman as well as a monk.  He is mixed
+up in quarrels between rival tribes.  He is concerned, according to
+antiquaries, in three great battles, one of which sprang, according to
+some, from Columba’s own misdeeds.  He copies by stealth the Psalter of
+St. Finnian.  St. Finnian demands the copy, saying it was his as much as
+the original.  The matter is referred to King Dermod, who pronounces, in
+high court at Tara, the famous decision which has become a proverb in
+Ireland, that “to every cow belongs her own calf.” {283}  St. Columba,
+who does not seem at this time to have possessed the dove-like temper
+which his name, according to his disciples, indicates, threatens to
+avenge upon the king his unjust decision.  The son of the king’s steward
+and the son of the King of Connaught, a hostage at Dermod’s court, are
+playing hurley on the green before Dermod’s palace.  The young prince
+strikes the other boy, kills him, and flies for protection to Columba.
+He is nevertheless dragged away, and slain upon the spot.  Columba leaves
+the palace in a rage, goes to his native mountains of Donegal, and
+returns at the head of an army of northern and western Irish to fight the
+great battle of Cooldrevny in Sligo.  But after a while public opinion
+turns against him; and at the Synod of Teltown, in Meath, it is
+proclaimed that Columba, the man of blood, shall quit Ireland, and win
+for Christ out of heathendom as many souls as have perished in that great
+fight.  Then Columba, with twelve comrades, sails in a coracle for the
+coast of Argyleshire; and on the eve of Pentecost, A.D. 563, lands upon
+that island which, it may be, will be famous to all times as Iona, Hy, or
+Icolumkill,—Hy of Columb of the Cells.
+
+Thus had Columba, if the tale be true, undertaken a noble penance; and he
+performed it like a noble man.  If, according to the fashion of those
+times, he bewailed his sins with tears, he was no morbid or selfish
+recluse, but a man of practical power, and of wide humanity.  Like one of
+Homer’s old heroes, St. Columba could turn his hand to every kind of
+work.  He could turn the hand-mill, work on the farm, heal the sick, and
+command as a practised sailor the little fleet of coracles which lay
+hauled up on the strand of Iona, ready to carry him and his monks on
+their missionary voyages to the mainland or the isles.  Tall, powerful,
+handsome, with a face which, as Adamnan said, made all who saw him glad,
+and a voice so stentorian that it could be heard at times a full mile
+off, and coming too of royal race, it is no wonder if he was regarded as
+a sort of demigod, not only by his own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs
+to whom he preached the Cross.  We hear of him at Craig Phadrick, near
+Inverness; at Skye, at Tiree, and other islands; we hear of him receiving
+visits from his old monks of Derry and Durrow; returning to Ireland to
+decide between rival chiefs; and at last dying at the age of
+seventy-seven, kneeling before the altar in his little chapel of Iona—a
+death as beautiful as had been the last thirty-four years of his life;
+and leaving behind him disciples destined to spread the light of
+Christianity over the whole of Scotland and the northern parts of
+England.
+
+St. Columba, at one period or other of his life, is said to have visited
+a missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in Scotland as St.
+Kentigern, or more commonly St. Mungo, the patron saint of Glasgow.  The
+two men, it is said (but the story belongs to the twelfth century, and
+can hardly be depended on), exchanged their crooked staves or crosiers in
+token of Christian brotherhood, and that which St. Columba is said to
+have given to St. Kentigern was preserved in Ripon Cathedral to the
+beginning of the fifteenth century.  But who St. Kentigern was, or what
+he really did, is hard to say; for all his legends, like most of these
+early ones, are as tangled as a dream.  He dies in the year 601: and yet
+he is the disciple of the famous St. Servanus or St. Serf, who lived in
+the times of St. Palladius and St. Patrick, 180 years before.  This St.
+Serf is a hermit of the true old type; and even if his story be, as Dr.
+Reeves thinks, a fabrication throughout, it is at least a very early one,
+and true to the ideal which had originated with St. Antony.  He is
+brought up in a monastery at Culross: he is tempted by the devil in a
+cave in the parish of Dysart (the Desert), in Fifeshire, which still
+retains that name.  The dæmon, fleeing from him, enters an unfortunate
+man, who is forthwith plagued with a wolfish appetite.  St. Serf cures
+him by putting his thumb into his mouth.  A man is accused of stealing
+and eating a lamb, and denies the theft.  St. Serf, however, makes the
+lamb bleat in the robber’s stomach, and so substantiates the charge
+beyond all doubt.  He works other wonders; among them the slaying of a
+great dragon in the place called “Dunyne;” sails for the Orkneys, and
+converts the people there; and vanishes thenceforth into the dream-land
+from which he sprung.
+
+Two great disciples he has, St. Ternan and St. Kentigern; mystery and
+miracle hang round the boyhood of the latter.  His father is unknown.
+His mother is condemned to be cast from the rock of “Dunpelder,” but is
+saved and absolved by a miracle.  Before the eyes of the astonished
+Picts, she floats gently down through the air, and arrives at the cliff
+foot unhurt.  St. Kentigern is thenceforth believed to be virgin-born,
+and is reverenced as a miraculous being from his infancy.  He goes to
+school to the mythic St. Serf, who calls him Mungo, or the Beloved; which
+name he bears in Glasgow until this day.  His fellow-scholars envy his
+virtue and learning, and try to ruin him with their master.  St. Serf has
+a pet robin, which is wont to sit and sing upon his shoulder.  The boys
+pull off its head, and lay the blame upon Kentigern.  The saint comes in
+wrathful, tawse in hand, and Kentigern is for the moment in serious
+danger; but, equal to the occasion then as afterwards, he puts the
+robin’s head on again, sets it singing, and amply vindicates his
+innocence.  To this day the robin figures in the arms of the good city of
+Glasgow, with the tree which St. Kentigern, when his enemies had put out
+his fire, brought in from the frozen forest and lighted with his breath,
+and the salmon in whose mouth a ring which had been cast into the Clyde
+had been found again by St. Kentigern’s prophetic spirit.
+
+The envy of his fellow-scholars, however, is too much for St. Kentigern’s
+peace of mind.  He wanders away to the spot where Glasgow city now
+stands, lives in a rock hollowed out into a tomb, is ordained by an Irish
+bishop (according to a Celtic custom, of which antiquaries have written
+learnedly and dubiously likewise), and has ecclesiastical authority over
+all the Picts from the Frith of Forth to the Roman Wall.  But all these
+stories, as I said before, are tangled as a dream; for the twelfth
+century monks, in their loyal devotion to the see of Rome, are apt to
+introduce again and again ecclesiastical customs which belonged to their
+own time, and try to represent these primæval saints as regular and
+well-disciplined servants of the Pope.
+
+It may be remarked that St. Serf is said to have come into a “dysart” or
+desert.  So did many monks of the school of St. Columba and his
+disciples, who wished for a severer and a more meditative life than could
+be found in the busy society of a convent.  “There was a ‘disert,’” says
+Dr. Reeves, “for such men to retire to, besides the monastery of Derry,
+and another at Iona itself, situate near the shore in the low ground,
+north of the Cathedral, as may be inferred from Portandisiart, the name
+of a little bay in this situation.”  A similar “disert” or collection of
+hermit cells was endowed at Cashel in 1101; and a “disert columkill,”
+with two townland mills and a vegetable garden, was endowed at Kells, at
+a somewhat earlier period, for the use of “devout pilgrims,” as those
+were called who left the society of men to worship God in solitude.
+
+The Venerable Bede speaks of as many as three personages, Saxons by their
+names, who in the Isle of Ireland led the “Pilgrim” or anchoritic life,
+to obtain a country in heaven; and tells of a Drycthelm of the monastery
+at Melrose, who went into a secret dwelling therein to give himself more
+utterly to prayer, and who used to stand for hours in the cold waters of
+the Tweed, as St. Godric did centuries afterwards in those of the Wear.
+Solitaries, “recluses,” are met with again and again in these old
+records, who more than once became Abbots of Iona itself.  But there is
+no need to linger on over instances which are only quoted to show that
+some of the noblest spirits of the Celtic Church kept up wherever they
+could the hermit’s ideal, the longing for solitude, for passive
+contemplation, for silence and perpetual prayer, which they had inherited
+from St. Antony and the Fathers of the Egyptian Desert.
+
+The same ideal was carried by them over the Border into England.  Off its
+extreme northern coast, for instance, nearly half-way between Berwick and
+Bamborough Castle, lies, as travellers northward may have seen for
+themselves, the “Holy Island,” called in old times Lindisfarne.  A monk’s
+chapel on that island was the mother of all the churches between Tyne and
+Tweed, as well as of many between Tyne and Humber.  The Northumbrians had
+been nominally converted, according to Bede, A.D. 627, under their King
+Edwin, by Paulinus, one of the Roman monks who had followed in the steps
+of St. Augustine, the apostle of Kent.  Evil times had fallen on them.
+Penda, at the head of the idolatrous Mercians (the people of
+Mid-England), and Ceadwalla, at the head of the Western Britons, had
+ravaged the country north of Tweed with savage cruelty, slain King Edwin,
+at Hatfield, near Doncaster, and exterminated Christianity; while
+Paulinus had fled to Kent, and become Bishop of Rochester.  The invaders
+had been driven out, seemingly by Oswald, who knew enough of Christianity
+to set up, ere he engaged the enemy, a cross of wood on the
+“Heavenfield,” near Hexham.  That cross stood till the time of Bede, some
+150 years after; and had become, like Moses’ brazen serpent, an object of
+veneration.  For if chips cut off from it were put into water, that water
+cured men or cattle of their diseases.
+
+Oswald, believing that it was through the mercy of him whom that cross
+symbolized he had conquered the Mercians and the Britons, would needs
+reconvert his people to the true faith.  He had been in exile during
+Edwin’s lifetime among the Scots, and had learned from them something of
+Christianity.  So out of Iona a monk was sent to him, Aidan by name, to
+be a bishop over the Northumbrians; and he settled himself upon the isle
+of Lindisfarne, and began to convert it into another Iona.  “A man he
+was,” says Bede, “of singular sweetness, piety, and moderation; zealous
+in the cause of God, though not altogether according to knowledge, for he
+was wont to keep Easter after the fashion of his country;” _i.e._ of the
+Picts and Northern Scots. . . . “From that time forth many Scots came
+daily into Britain, and with great devotion preached the word to these
+provinces of the English over whom King Oswald reigned. . . .  Churches
+were built, money and lands were given of the king’s bounty to build
+monasteries; the English, great and small, were by their Scottish masters
+instructed in the rules and observance of regular discipline; for most of
+those who came to preach were monks.” {290}
+
+So says the Venerable Bede, the monk of Jarrow, and the father (as he has
+been well called) of English history.  He tells us too, how Aidan,
+wishing, it may be supposed, for greater solitude, went away and lived on
+the rocky isle of Farne, some two miles out at sea, off Bamborough
+Castle; and how, when he saw Penda and his Mercians, in a second invasion
+of Northumbria, trying to burn down the walls of Bamborough—which were
+probably mere stockades of timber—he cried to God, from off his rock, to
+“behold the mischief:” whereon the wind changed suddenly, and blew the
+flames back on the besiegers, discomfiting them, and saving the town.
+
+Bede tells us, too, how Aidan wandered, preaching from place to place,
+haunting King Oswald’s court, but owning nothing of his own save his
+church, and a few fields about it; and how, when death came upon him,
+they set up a tent for him close by the wall at the west end of the
+church, so that it befell that he gave up the ghost leaning against a
+post, which stood outside to strengthen the wall.
+
+A few years after, Penda came again and burned the village, with the
+church; and yet neither could that fire, nor one which happened soon
+after, destroy that post.  Wherefore the post was put inside the church,
+as a holy thing, and chips of it, like those of the Cross of Heaven
+Field, healed many folk of their distempers.
+
+. . . A tale at which we may look in two different humours.  We may pass
+it by with a sneer, and a hypothesis (which will be probably true) that
+the post was of old heart-of-oak, which is burnt with extreme difficulty;
+or we may pause a moment in reverence before the noble figure of the good
+old man, ending a life of unselfish toil without a roof beneath which to
+lay his head; penniless and comfortless in this world: but sure of his
+reward in the world to come.
+
+A few years after Aidan’s death another hermit betook him to the rocks of
+Farne, who rose to far higher glory; who became, in fact, the tutelar
+saint of the fierce Northern men; who was to them, up to the time even of
+the Tudor monarchs, what Pallas Athene was to Athens, or Diana to the
+Ephesians.  St. Cuthbert’s shrine, in Durham Cathedral (where his
+biographer Bede also lay in honour), was their rallying point, not merely
+for ecclesiastical jurisdiction or for miraculous cures, but for
+political movements.  Above his shrine rose the noble pile of Durham.
+The bishop, who ruled in his name, was a Count Palatine, and an almost
+independent prince.  His sacred banner went out to battle before the
+Northern levies, or drove back again and again the flames which consumed
+the wooden houses of Durham.  His relics wrought innumerable miracles;
+and often he himself appeared with long countenance, ripened by
+abstinence, his head sprinkled with grey hairs, his casule of cloth of
+gold, his mitre of glittering crystal, his face brighter than the sun,
+his eyes mild as the stars of heaven, the gems upon his hand and robes
+rattling against his pastoral staff beset with pearls. {292}  Thus
+glorious the demigod of the Northern men appeared to his votaries, and
+steered with his pastoral staff, as with a rudder, the sinking ship in
+safety to Lindisfarne; received from the hands of St. Brendan, as from a
+saint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman, laden with fetters, whom
+he had delivered out of the dungeon of Brancepeth, and, smiting asunder
+the massive Norman walls, led him into the forest, and bade him flee to
+sanctuary in Durham, and be safe; or visited the little timber vine-clad
+chapel of Lixtune, on the Cheshire shore, to heal the sick who watched
+all night before his altar, or to forgive the lad who had robbed the nest
+which his sacred raven had built upon the roof, and, falling with the
+decayed timber, had broken his bones, and maimed his sacrilegious hand.
+
+Originally, says Bede, a monk at Melrose, and afterward abbot of the same
+place, he used to wander weeks together out of his monastery, seemingly
+into Ettrick and the Lammermuirs, and preach in such villages as “being
+seated high up among craggy, uncouth mountains, were frightful to others
+even to look at, and whose poverty and barbarity rendered them
+inaccessible to other teachers.”  “So skilful an orator was he, so fond
+of enforcing his subject, and such a brightness appeared in his angelic
+face, that no man presumed to conceal from him the most hidden secrets of
+their hearts, but all openly confessed what they had done.”
+
+So he laboured for many years, till his old abbot Eata, who had become
+bishop and abbot at Lindisfarne, sent for him thither, and made him prior
+of the monks for several years.  But at last he longed, like so many
+before him, for solitude.  He considered (so he said afterwards to the
+brethren) that the life of the disciplined and obedient monk was higher
+than that of the lonely and independent hermit: but yet he longed to be
+alone; longed, it may be, to recall at least upon some sea-girt rock
+thoughts which had come to him in those long wanderings on the heather
+moors, with no sound to distract him save the hum of the bee and the wail
+of the curlew; and so he went away to that same rock of Farne, where
+Aidan had taken refuge some ten or fifteen years before, and there, with
+the deep sea rolling at his feet and the gulls wailing about his head, he
+built himself one of those “Picts’ Houses,” the walls of which remain
+still in many parts of Scotland—a circular hut of turf and rough
+stone—and dug out the interior to a depth of some feet, and thatched it
+with sticks and grass; and made, it seems, two rooms within; one for an
+oratory, one for a dwelling-place: and so lived alone, and worshipped
+God.  He grew his scanty crops of barley on the rock (men said, of
+course, by miracle): he had tried wheat, but, as was to be expected, it
+failed.  He found (men said, of course, by miracle) a spring upon the
+rock.  Now and then brethren came to visit him.  And what did man need
+more, save a clear conscience and the presence of his Creator?  Certainly
+not Cuthbert.  When he asked the brethren to bring him a beam that he
+might prop up his cabin where the sea had eaten out the floor, and when
+they forgot the commission, the sea itself washed one up in the very cove
+where it was needed: when the choughs from the cliff stole his barley and
+the straw from the roof of his little hospice, he had only to reprove
+them, and they never offended again; on one occasion, indeed, they atoned
+for their offence by bringing him a lump of suet, wherewith he greased
+his shoes for many a day.  We are not bound to believe this story; it is
+one of many which hang about the memory of St. Cuthbert, and which have
+sprung out of that love of the wild birds which may have grown up in the
+good man during his long wanderings through woods and over moors.  He
+bequeathed (so it was believed) as a sacred legacy to the wild-fowl of
+the Farne islands, “St. Cuthbert’s peace;” above all to the eider-ducks,
+which swarmed there in his days, but are now, alas! growing rarer and
+rarer, from the intrusion of vulgar sportsmen who never heard St.
+Cuthbert’s name, or learnt from him to spare God’s creatures when they
+need them not.  On Farne, in Reginald’s time, they bred under your very
+bed, got out of your way if you made a sign to them, let you take up them
+or their young ones, and nestled silently in your bosom, and croaked
+joyfully with fluttering wings when stroked.  “Not to nature, but to
+grace; not to hereditary tendency, but only to the piety and compassion
+of the blessed St. Cuthbert,” says Reginald, “is so great a miracle to be
+ascribed.  For the Lord who made all things in heaven and earth has
+subjected them to the nod of his saints, and prostrated them under the
+feet of obedience.”  Insufficient induction (the cause of endless
+mistakes, and therefore of endless follies and crimes) kept Reginald
+unaware of the now notorious fact that the female eider, during the
+breeding season, is just as tame, allowing for a little exaggeration, as
+St. Cuthbert’s own ducks are, while the male eider is just as wild and
+wary as any other sea-bird: a mistake altogether excusable in one who had
+probably never seen or heard of eider-ducks in any other spot.  It may
+be, nevertheless, that St. Cuthbert’s special affection for the eider may
+have been called out by another strange and well-known fact about them of
+which Reginald oddly enough takes no note—namely, that they line their
+nests with down plucked from their own bosom; thus realizing the fable
+which has made the pelican for so many centuries the type of the Church.
+It is a question, indeed, whether the pelican, which is always
+represented in mediæval paintings and sculptures with a short bill,
+instead of the enormous bill and pouch which is the especial mark of the
+“Onocrotalus” of the ancients, now miscalled pelican, be not actually the
+eider-duck itself, confounded with the true _pelecanus_, which was the
+mediæval, and is still the scientific, name of the cormorant.  Be that as
+it may, ill befell any one who dare touch one of St. Cuthbert’s birds, as
+was proved in the case of Liveing, servant to Ælric, who was a hermit in
+Farne after the time of St. Cuthbert.  For he, tired it may be of barley
+and dried fish, killed and ate an eider-duck in his master’s absence,
+scattering the bones and feathers over the cliffs.  But when the hermit
+came back, what should he find but those same bones and feathers rolled
+into a lump and laid inside the door of the little chapel; the very sea,
+says Reginald, not having dared to swallow them up.  Whereby the hapless
+Liveing being betrayed, was soundly flogged, and put on bread and water
+for many a day; the which story Liveing himself told to Reginald.
+
+Not only the eider, but all birds in Farne, were protected by St.
+Cuthbert’s peace.  Bartholomew, who was a famous hermit there in after
+years, had a tame bird, says the chronicler, who ate from his hand, and
+hopped about the table among him and his guests, till some thought it a
+miracle; and some, finding, no doubt, the rocks of Farne weary enough,
+derived continual amusement from the bird.  But when he one day went off
+to another island, and left his bird to keep the house, a hawk came in
+and ate it up.  Cuthbert, who could not save the bird, at least could
+punish the murderer.  The hawk flew round and round the island,
+imprisoned, so it was thought, by some mysterious power, till, terrified
+and worn out, it flew into the chapel, and lay, cowering and half dead,
+in a corner by the altar.  Bartholomew came back, found his bird’s
+feathers, and the tired hawk.  But even the hawk must profit by St.
+Cuthbert’s peace.  He took it up, carried it to the harbour, and there
+bade it depart in St. Cuthbert’s name, whereon it flew off free, and was
+no more seen.  Such tales as these may be explained, even to their most
+minute details, by simply natural causes: and yet, in this age of wanton
+destruction of wild birds, one is tempted at moments to wish for the
+return of some such graceful and humane superstition which could keep
+down, at least in the name of mercy and humanity, the needless cruelty of
+man.
+
+But to return.  After St. Cuthbert, says Bede, had served God in the
+solitude of Farne for many years, the mound which encompassed his
+habitation being so high that he could see nothing from thence but
+heaven, to which he so ardently aspired, he was compelled by tears and
+entreaties—King Egfrid himself coming to the island, with bishops and
+religious and great men—to become himself bishop in Holy Island.  There,
+as elsewhere, he did his duty.  But after two years he went again to
+Farne, knowing that his end was near.  For when, in his episcopal
+labours, he had gone across to Lugubalia—old Penrith, in Cumberland—there
+came across to him a holy hermit, Herebert by name, who dwelt upon an
+island in Derwentwater, and talked with him a long while on heavenly
+things; and Cuthbert bade him ask him then all the questions which he
+wished to have resolved, for they should see each other no more in this
+world.  Herebert, who seems to have been one of his old friends, fell at
+Cuthbert’s feet, and bade him remember that whenever he had done wrong he
+had submitted himself to him utterly, and always tried to live according
+to his rules; and all he wished for now was that, as they had served God
+together upon earth, they might depart for ever to see his bliss in
+heaven: the which befell; for a few months afterwards, that is, on the
+20th of March, their souls quitted their mortal bodies on the same day,
+and they were re-united in spirit.
+
+St. Cuthbert wished to have been buried on his rock in Farne: but the
+brethren had persuaded him to allow his corpse to be removed to Holy
+Island.  He begged them, said Bede, should they be forced to leave that
+place, to carry his bones along with them; and so they were forced to do
+at last; for in the year 875; whilst the Danes were struggling with
+Alfred in Wessex, an army of them, with Halfdene at their head, went up
+into Northumbria, burning towns, destroying churches, tossing children on
+their pike-points, and committing all those horrors which made the
+Norsemen terrible and infamous for so many years.  Then the monks fled
+from the monastery, bearing the shrine of St. Cuthbert, and all their
+treasures, and followed by their retainers, men, women, and children, and
+their sheep and oxen: and behold! the hour of their flight was that of an
+exceedingly high spring tide.  The Danes were landing from their ships in
+their rear; in their front was some two miles of sea.  Escape seemed
+hopeless; when, says the legend, the water retreated before the holy
+relics as they advanced; and became, as to the children of Israel of old,
+a wall on their right hand and on their left; and so St. Cuthbert came
+safe to shore, and wandered in the woods, borne upon his servants’
+shoulders, and dwelling in tents for seven years, and found rest at last
+in Durham, till at the Reformation his shrine, and that of the Venerable
+Bede, were robbed of their gold and jewels; and no trace of them (as far
+as I know) is left, save that huge slab, whereon is written the monkish
+rhyme:—
+
+    Hic jacet in fossâ
+    Bedæ Venerabilis ossa. {299}
+
+
+
+
+ST. GUTHLAC
+
+
+HERMITS dwelling in the wilderness, as far as I am aware, were to be seen
+only in the northern and western parts of the island, where not only did
+the forest afford concealment, but the crags and caves shelter.  The
+southern and eastern English seldom possess the vivid imagination of the
+Briton, the Northumbrian, and the Scot; while the rich lowlands of
+central, southern, and eastern England, well peopled and well tilled,
+offered few spots lonely enough for the hermit’s cell.
+
+One district only was desolate enough to attract those who wished to be
+free from the world,—namely, the great fens north of Cambridge; and
+there, accordingly, as early as the seventh century, hermits settled in
+morasses now so utterly transformed that it is difficult to restore in
+one’s imagination the original scenery.
+
+The fens in the seventh century were probably very like the forests at
+the mouth of the Mississippi, or the swampy shores of the Carolinas.
+Their vast plain is now, in summer, one sea of golden corn; in winter, a
+black dreary fallow, cut into squares by stagnant dykes, and broken only
+by unsightly pumping mills and doleful lines of poplar-trees.  Of old it
+was a labyrinth of black wandering streams; broad lagoons; morasses
+submerged every spring-tide; vast beds of reed and sedge and fern; vast
+copses of willow, alder, and grey poplar, rooted in the floating peat,
+which was swallowing up slowly, all-devouring, yet all-preserving, the
+forests of fir and oak, ash and poplar, hazel and yew, which had once
+grown on that low, rank soil, sinking slowly (so geologists assure us)
+beneath the sea from age to age.  Trees, torn down by flood and storm,
+floated and lodged in rafts, damming the waters back upon the land.
+Streams, bewildered in the flats, changed their channels, mingling silt
+and sand with the peat moss.  Nature, left to herself, ran into wild riot
+and chaos more and more, till the whole fen became one “Dismal Swamp,” in
+which, at the time of the Norman Conquest, the “Last of the English,”
+like Dred in Mrs. Stowe’s tale, took refuge from their tyrants, and
+lived, like him, a free and joyous life awhile.
+
+For there are islands in the sea which have escaped the destroying deluge
+of peat-moss,—outcrops of firm and fertile land, which in the early
+Middle Age were so many natural parks, covered with richest grass and
+stateliest trees, swarming with deer and roe, goat and boar, as the
+streams around swarmed with otter and beaver, and with fowl of every
+feather, and fish of every scale.
+
+Beautiful after their kind were those far isles in the eyes of the monks
+who were the first settlers in the wilderness.  The author of the
+“History of Ramsey” grows enthusiastic, and somewhat bombastic also, as
+he describes the lovely isle, which got its name from the solitary ram
+who had wandered thither, either in extreme drought or over the winter
+ice, and, never able to return, was found feeding among the wild deer,
+fat beyond the wont of rams.  He tells of the stately ashes, most of them
+cut in his time, to furnish mighty beams for the church roof; of the rich
+pastures painted with all gay flowers in spring; of the “green crown” of
+reed and alder which encircled the isle; of the fair wide mere (now
+drained) with its “sandy beach” along the forest side; “a delight,” he
+says, “to all who look thereon.”
+
+In like humour William of Malmesbury, writing in the first half of the
+twelfth century, speaks of Thorney Abbey and its isle.  “It represents,”
+says he, “a very paradise; for that in pleasure and delight it resembles
+heaven itself.  These marshes abound in trees, whose length, without a
+knot, doth emulate the stars.  The plain there is as level as the sea,
+alluring the eye with its green grass, and so smooth that there is nought
+to trip the foot of him who runs through it.  Neither is there any waste
+place; for in some parts are apples, in others vines, which are either
+spread on the ground, or raised on poles.  A mutual strife there is
+between Nature and Art; so that what one produces not the other supplies.
+What shall I say of those fair buildings, which ’tis so wonderful to see
+the ground among those fens upbear?”
+
+So wrote William of Malmesbury, after the industry and wisdom of the
+monks, for more than four centuries, had been at work to civilize and
+cultivate the wilderness.  Yet even then there was another side to the
+picture; and Thorney, Ramsey, or Crowland would have seemed, for nine
+months every year, sad places enough to us comfortable folk of the
+nineteenth century.  But men lived hard in those days, even the most
+high-born and luxurious nobles and ladies; under dark skies, in houses
+which we should think, from darkness, draught, and want of space, unfit
+for felons’ cells.  Hardly they lived; and easily were they pleased; and
+thanked God for the least gleam of sunshine, the least patch of green,
+after the terrible and long winters of the Middle Ages.  And ugly enough
+those winters must have been, what with snow and darkness, flood and ice,
+ague and rheumatism; while through the dreary winter’s night the whistle
+of the wind and the wild cries of the waterfowl were translated into the
+howls of witches and dæmons; and (as in St. Guthlac’s case), the
+delirious fancies of marsh fever made those fiends take hideous shapes
+before the inner eye, and act fantastic horrors round the fen-man’s bed
+of sedge.
+
+Concerning this St. Guthlac full details remain, both in Latin and
+Anglo-Saxon; the author of the original document professing to be one
+Felix, a monk of Ramsey near by, who wrote possibly as early as the
+eighth century. {303}
+
+There we may read how the young warrior-noble Guthlac (“The Battle-Play,”
+the “Sport of War”), tired of slaying and sinning, bethought him to
+fulfil the prodigies seen at his birth; how he wandered into the fen,
+where one Tatwin (who after became a saint likewise) took him in his
+canoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost unknown, buried in reeds and
+alders, and how he found among the trees nought but an old “law,” as the
+Scots still call a mound, which men of old had broken into seeking for
+treasure, and a little pond; and how he built himself a hermit’s cell
+thereon, and saw visions and wrought miracles; and how men came to him,
+as to a fakir or shaman of the East; notably one Beccel, who acted as his
+servant; and how as Beccel was shaving the saint one day there fell on
+him a great temptation: Why should he not cut St. Guthlac’s throat, and
+instal himself in his cell, that he might have the honour and glory of
+sainthood?  But St. Guthlac perceived the inward temptation (which is
+told with the naïve honesty of those half-savage times), and rebuked the
+offender into confession, and all went well to the end.
+
+There we may read, too, a detailed account of the Fauna now happily
+extinct in the fens; of the creatures who used to hale St. Guthlac out of
+his hut, drag him through the bogs, carry him aloft through frost and
+fire—“Develen and luther gostes”—such as tormented in like wise St.
+Botolph (from whom Botulfston = Boston, has its name), and who were
+supposed to haunt the meres and fens, and to have an especial fondness
+for old heathen barrows with their fancied treasure-hoards: how they
+“filled the house with their coming, and poured in on every side, from
+above, and from beneath, and everywhere.  They were in countenance
+horrible, and they had great heads, and a long neck, and a lean visage;
+they were filthy and squalid in their beards, and they had rough ears,
+and crooked ‘nebs,’ and fierce eyes, and foul mouths; and their teeth
+were like horses’ tusks; and their throats were filled with flame, and
+they were grating in their voice; they had crooked shanks, and knees big
+and great behind, and distorted toes, and cried hoarsely with their
+voices; and they came with immoderate noise and immense horror, that he
+thought that all between, heaven and earth resounded with their voices. . . .
+And they tugged and led him out of the cot, and led him to the swart
+fen, and threw and sunk him in the muddy waters.  After that they brought
+him into the wild places of the wilderness, among the thick beds of
+brambles, that all his body was torn. . . .  After that they took him and
+beat him with iron whips, and after that they brought him on their
+creaking wings between the cold regions of the air.”
+
+But there are gentler and more human touches in that old legend.  You may
+read in it how all the wild birds of the fen came to St. Guthlac, and he
+fed them after their kind; how the ravens tormented him, stealing
+letters, gloves, and what not, from his visitors; and then, seized with
+compunction at his reproofs, brought them back, or hanged them on the
+reeds; and how, as Wilfrid, a holy visitant, was sitting with him,
+discoursing of the contemplative life, two swallows came flying in, and
+lifted up their song, sitting now on the saint’s hand, now on his
+shoulder, now on his knee; and how, when Wilfrid wondered thereat,
+Guthlac made answer, “Know you not that he who hath led his life
+according to God’s will, to him the wild beasts and the wild birds draw
+the more near?”
+
+After fifteen years of such a life, in fever, ague, and starvation, no
+wonder if St. Guthlac died.  They buried him in a leaden coffin (a grand
+and expensive luxury in the seventh century) which had been sent to him
+during his life by a Saxon princess; and then, over his sacred and
+wonder-working corpse, as over that of a Buddhist saint, there arose a
+chapel, with a community of monks, companies of pilgrims who came to
+worship, sick who came to be healed; till at last, founded on great piles
+driven into the bog, arose the lofty wooden Abbey of Crowland; in
+“sanctuary of the four rivers,” with its dykes, parks, vineyards,
+orchards, rich ploughlands, from which, in time of famine, the monks of
+Crowland fed all people of the neighbouring fens; with its tower with
+seven bells, which had not their like in England; its twelve altars rich
+with the gifts of Danish vikings and princes, and even with twelve white
+bear-skins, the gift of Canute’s self; while all around were the cottages
+of the corrodiers, or folk who, for a corrody, or life pittance from the
+abbey, had given away their lands, to the wrong and detriment of their
+heirs.
+
+But within those four rivers, at least, were neither tyranny nor slavery.
+Those who took refuge in St. Guthlac’s place from cruel lords must keep
+his peace toward each other, and earn their living like honest men, safe
+while they so did: for between those four rivers St. Guthlac and his
+abbot were the only lords; and neither summoner, nor sheriff of the king,
+nor armed force of knight or earl, could enter—“the inheritance of the
+Lord, the soil of St. Mary and St. Bartholomew, the most holy sanctuary
+of St. Guthlac and his monks; the minister free from worldly servitude;
+the special almshouse of most illustrious kings; the sole refuge of any
+one in worldly tribulation; the perpetual abode of the saints; the
+possession of religious men, specially set apart by the common council of
+the realm; by reason of the frequent miracles of the holy confessor St.
+Guthlac, an ever-fruitful mother of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi;
+and, by reason of the privileges granted by the kings, a city of grace
+and safety to all who repent.”
+
+Does not all this sound like a voice from another planet?  It is all
+gone; and it was good and right that it should go when it had done its
+work, and that the civilization of the fen should be taken up and carried
+out by men like the good knight, Richard of Rulos, who, two generations
+after the Conquest, marrying Hereward’s grand-daughter, and becoming Lord
+of Deeping (the deep meadow), thought that he could do the same work from
+the hall of Bourne as the monks did from their cloisters; got permission
+from the Crowland monks, for twenty marks of silver, to drain as much as
+he could of the common marshes; and then shut out the Welland by strong
+dykes, built cottages, marked out gardens, and tilled fields, till “out
+of slough and bogs accursed he made a garden of pleasure.”
+
+Yet one lasting work those monks of Crowland seem to have done, besides
+those firm dykes and rich corn-lands of the Porsand, which endure unto
+this day.  For within two generations of the Norman conquest, while the
+old wooden abbey, destroyed by fire, was being replaced by that noble
+pile of stone whose ruins are still standing, the French abbot of
+Crowland (so runs the legend) sent French monks to open a school under
+the new French donjon, in the little Roman town of Grante-brigge;
+whereby—so does all earnest work, however mistaken, grow and spread in
+this world, infinitely and for ever—St. Guthlac, by his canoe-voyage into
+Crowland Island, became the spiritual father of the University of
+Cambridge in the old world; and therefore of her noble daughter, the
+University of Cambridge, in the new world which fen-men sailing from
+Boston deeps colonized and Christianized 800 years after St. Guthlac’s
+death.
+
+
+
+
+ST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE
+
+
+A PERSONAGE quite as interesting, though not as famous, as Cuthbert or
+Guthlac, is St. Godric; the hermit around whose cell rose the Priory of
+Finchale.  In a loop of the river Wear, near Durham, there settled in the
+days of Bishop Flambard, between 1099 and 1128, a man whose parentage and
+history was for many years unknown to the good folks of the
+neighbourhood.  He had come, it seems, from a hermitage in Eskdale, in
+the parish of Whitby, whence he had been driven by the Percys, lords of
+the soil.  He had gone to Durham, become the doorkeeper of St. Giles’s
+church, and gradually learnt by heart (he was no scholar) the whole
+Psalter.  Then he had gone to St. Mary’s church, where (as was the
+fashion of the times) there was a children’s school; and, listening to
+the little ones at their lessons, picked up such hymns and prayers as he
+thought would suffice his spiritual wants.  And then, by leave of the
+bishop, he had gone away into the woods, and devoted himself to the
+solitary life in Finchale.  Buried in the woods and crags of the “Royal
+Park,” as it was then called, which swarmed with every kind of game,
+there was a little flat meadow, rough with sweet-gale and bramble and
+willow, beside a teeming salmon-pool.  Great wolves haunted the woods;
+but Godric cared nought for them; and the shingles swarmed with
+snakes,—probably only the harmless collared snakes of wet meadows, but
+reputed, as all snakes are by the vulgar, venomous: but he did not object
+to become “the companion of serpents and poisonous asps.”  He handled
+them, caressed them, let them lie by the fire in swarms on winter nights,
+in the little cave which he had hollowed in the ground and thatched with
+turf.  Men told soon how the snakes obeyed him; how two especially huge
+ones used to lie twined about his legs; till after many years, annoyed by
+their importunity, he turned them all gently out of doors, with solemn
+adjurations never to return, and they, of course, obeyed.
+
+His austerities knew no bounds.  He lived on roots and berries, flowers
+and leaves; and when the good folk found him out, and put gifts of food
+near his cell, he carried them up to the crags above, and, offering them
+solemnly up to the God who feeds the ravens when they call on him, left
+them there for the wild birds.  He watched, fasted, and scourged himself,
+and wore always a hair shirt and an iron cuirass.  He sat, night after
+night, even in mid-winter, in the cold Wear, the waters of which had
+hollowed out a rock near by into a natural bath, and afterwards in a
+barrel sunk in the floor of a little chapel of wattle, which he built and
+dedicated to the blessed Virgin Mary.  He tilled a scrap of ground, and
+ate the grain from it, mingled with ashes.  He kept his food till it was
+decayed before he tasted it; and led a life the records of which fill the
+reader with astonishment, not only at the man’s iron strength of will,
+but at the iron strength of the constitution which could support such
+hardships, in such a climate, for a single year.
+
+A strong and healthy man must Godric have been, to judge from the
+accounts (there are two, both written by eye-witnesses) of his personal
+appearance—a man of great breadth of chest and strength of arm;
+black-haired, hook-nosed, deep-browed, with flashing grey eyes;
+altogether a personable and able man, who might have done much work and
+made his way in many lands.  But what his former life had been he would
+not tell.  Mother-wit he had in plenty, and showed insight into men and
+things which the monks of Durham were ready enough to call the spirit of
+prophecy.  After awhile it was whispered that he wrought miraculous
+cures: that even a bit of the bread which he was wont to eat had healed a
+sick woman; that he fought with dæmons in visible shape; that he had seen
+(just as one of the old Egyptian hermits had seen) a little black boy
+running about between two monks who had quarrelled and come to hard blows
+and bleeding faces because one of them had made mistakes in the evening
+service: and, in short, there were attributed to him, during his
+lifetime, and by those who knew him well, a host of wonders which would
+be startling and important were they not exactly the same as those which
+appear in the life of every hermit since St. Antony.  It is impossible to
+read the pages of Reginald of Durham (for he, the biographer of St.
+Cuthbert, is also the biographer of St. Godric) without feeling how
+difficult it is to obtain anything like the truth, even from
+eye-witnesses, if only men are (as they were in those days) in a state of
+religious excitement, at a period of spiritual revivals.  The ignorant
+populace were ready to believe, and to report, anything of the Fakeer of
+Finchale.  The monks of Durham were glad enough to have a wonder-working
+man belonging to them; for Ralph Flambard, in honour of Godric, had made
+over to them the hermitage of Finchale, with its fields and fisheries.
+The lad who, in after years, waited on the hermit, would have been ready
+enough to testify that his master saw dæmons and other spiritual beings;
+for he began to see them on his own account; {312} fell asleep in the
+forest coming home from Durham with some bottles; was led in a vision by
+St. John the Baptist to the top of a hill, and shown by him wonders
+unspeakable; saw, on another occasion, a dæmon in St. Godric’s cell, hung
+all over with bottles of different liquors, offering them to the saint,
+who bade the lad drive him out of the little chapel, with a holy water
+sprinkle, but not go outside it himself.  But the lad, in the fury of
+successful pursuit, overstepped the threshold; whereon the dæmon, turning
+in self-defence, threw a single drop of one of his liquors into the lad’s
+mouth, and vanished with a laugh of scorn.  The boy’s face and throat
+swelled horribly for three days; and he took care thenceforth to obey the
+holy man more strictly: a story which I have repeated, like the one
+before it, only to show the real worth of the evidence on which Reginald
+has composed his book.  Ailred, Abbot of Rievaux (for Reginald’s book,
+though dedicated to Hugh Pudsey, his bishop, was prompted by Ailred) was
+capable (as his horrible story of the nun of Watton proves) of believing
+anything and everything which fell in with his fanatical, though pious
+and gentle, temper.
+
+And here a few words must be said to persons with whose difficulties I
+deeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions I differ utterly: those,
+namely, who say that if we reject the miracles of these saints’ lives, we
+must reject also the miracles of the New Testament.  The answer is, as I
+believe, that the Apostles and Evangelists were sane men: men in their
+right minds, wise, calm; conducting themselves (save in the matter of
+committing sins) like other human beings, as befitted the disciples of
+that Son of Man who came eating and drinking, and was therefore called by
+the ascetics of his time a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber: whereas
+these monks were not (as I have said elsewhere) in their right minds at
+all.
+
+This is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare the style of
+the Apostles and Evangelists with that of the monkish hagiologists.  The
+calm, the simplicity, the brevity, the true grandeur of the former is
+sufficient evidence of their healthy-mindedness and their
+trustworthiness.  The affectation, the self-consciousness, the bombast,
+the false grandeur of the latter is sufficient evidence that they are
+neither healthy-minded or trustworthy.  Let students compare any passage
+of St. Luke or St. John, however surprising the miracle which it relates,
+with St. Jerome’s life of Paul the First Hermit, or with that famous
+letter of his to Eustochium, which (although historically important) is
+unfit for the eyes of pure-minded readers and does not appear in this
+volume; and let them judge for themselves.  Let them compare, again, the
+opening sentences of the Four Gospels, or of the Acts of the Apostles,
+with the words with which Reginald begins this life of St. Godric.  “By
+the touch of the Holy Spirit’s finger the chord of the harmonic human
+heart resounds melodiously.  For when the vein of the heart is touched by
+the grace of the Holy Spirit, forthwith, by the permirific sweetness of
+the harmony, an exceeding operation of sacred virtue is perceived more
+manifestly to spring forth.  With this sweetness of spirit, Godric, the
+man of God, was filled from the very time of his boyhood, and grew famous
+for many admirable works of holy work (_sic_), because the harmonic
+teaching of the Holy Spirit fired the secrets of his very bosom with a
+wondrous contact of spiritual grace:”—and let them say, after the
+comparison, if the difference between the two styles is not that which
+exists between one of God’s lilies, fresh from the field, and a tawdry
+bunch of artificial flowers?
+
+But to return.  Godric himself took part in the history of his own
+miracles and life.  It may be that he so overworked his brain that he
+believed that he was visited by St. Peter, and taught a hymn by the
+blessed Virgin Mary, and that he had taken part in a hundred other
+prodigies; but the Prologue to the Harleian manuscript (which the learned
+Editor, Mr. Stevenson, believes to be an early edition of Reginald’s own
+composition) confesses that Reginald, compelled by Ailred of Rievaux,
+tried in vain for a long while to get the hermit’s story from him.
+
+“You wish to write my life?” he said.  “Know then that Godric’s life is
+such as this:—Godric, at first a gross rustic, an unclean liver, an
+usurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a flatterer, a wanderer, pilfering and
+greedy; now a dead flea, a decayed dog, a vile worm, not a hermit, but a
+hypocrite; not a solitary, but a gad-about in mind; a devourer of alms,
+dainty over good things, greedy and negligent, lazy and snoring,
+ambitious and prodigal, one who is not worthy to serve others, and yet
+every day beats and scolds those who serve him: this, and worse than
+this, you may write of Godric.”  “Then he was silent as one indignant,”
+says Reginald, “and I went off in some confusion,” and the grand old man
+was left to himself and to his God.
+
+The ecclesiastical Boswell dared not mention the subject again to his
+hero for several years, though he came after from Durham to visit him,
+and celebrate mass for him in his little chapel.  After some years,
+however, he approached the matter again; and whether a pardonable vanity
+had crept over Godric, or whether he had begun at last to believe in his
+miracles, or whether the old man had that upon his mind of which he
+longed to unburthen himself, he began to answer questions, and Reginald
+delighted to listen and note down till he had finished, he says, that
+book of his life and miracles; {316} and after a while brought it to the
+saint, and falling on his knees, begged him to bless, in the name of God,
+and for the benefit of the faithful, the deeds of a certain religious
+man, who had suffered much for God in this life which he (Reginald) had
+composed accurately.  The old man perceived that he himself was the
+subject, blessed the book with solemn words (what was written therein he
+does not seem to have read), and bade Reginald conceal it till his death,
+warning him that a time would come when he should suffer rough and bitter
+things on account of that book, from those who envied him.  That
+prophecy, says Reginald, came to pass; but how, or why, he does not tell.
+There may have been, among those shrewd Northumbrian heads, even then,
+incredulous men, who used their common sense.
+
+But the story which Godric told was wild and beautiful; and though we
+must not depend too much on the accuracy of the old man’s recollections,
+or on the honesty of Reginald’s report, who would naturally omit all
+incidents which made against his hero’s perfection, it is worth listening
+to, as a vivid sketch of the doings of a real human being, in that misty
+distance of the Early Middle Age.
+
+He was born, he said, at Walpole, in Norfolk, on the old Roman sea-bank,
+between the Wash and the deep Fens.  His father’s name was Æilward; his
+mother’s, Ædwen—“the Keeper of Blessedness,” and “the Friend of
+Blessedness,” as Reginald translates them—poor and pious folk; and, being
+a sharp boy, he did not take to field-work, but preferred wandering the
+fens as a pedlar, first round the villages, then, as he grew older, to
+castles and to towns, buying and selling—what, Reginald does not tell us:
+but we should be glad to know.
+
+One day he had a great deliverance, which Reginald thinks a miracle.
+Wandering along the great tide-flats near Spalding and the old
+Well-stream, in search of waifs, and strays, of wreck or eatables, he saw
+three porpoises stranded far out upon the banks.  Two were alive, and the
+boy took pity on them (so he said) and let them be: but one was dead, and
+off it (in those days poor folks ate anything) he cut as much flesh and
+blubber as he could carry, and toiled back towards the high-tide mark.
+But whether he lost his way among the banks, or whether he delayed too
+long, the tide came in on him up to his knees, his waist, his chin, and
+at last, at times, over his head.  The boy made the sign of the cross (as
+all men in danger did then) and struggled on valiantly a full mile
+through the sea, like a brave lad never loosening his hold of his
+precious porpoise-meat till he reached the shore at the very spot from
+which he had set out.
+
+As he grew, his pedlar journeys became longer.  Repeating to himself, as
+he walked, the Creeds and the Lord’s Prayer—his only lore—he walked for
+four years through Lindsey; then went to St. Andrew’s in Scotland; after
+that, for the first time, to Rome.  Then the love of a wandering sea life
+came on him, and he sailed with his wares round the east coasts; not
+merely as a pedlar, but as a sailor himself, he went to Denmark and to
+Flanders, buying and selling, till he owned (in what port we are not
+told, but probably in Lynn or Wisbeach) half one merchant ship and the
+quarter of another.  A crafty steersman he was, a wise weather-prophet, a
+shipman stout in body and in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells
+us of 350 years after:—
+
+    “—A dagger hanging by a las hadde hee
+    About his nekke under his arm adoun.
+    The hote summer hadde made his hewe al broun.
+    And certainly he was a good felaw;
+    Full many a draught of wine he hadde draw,
+    From Burdeaux ward, while that the chapmen slepe,
+    Of nice conscience took he no kepe.
+    If that he fought, and hadde the higher hand,
+    By water he sent hem home to every land.
+    But of his craft to recken wel his tides,
+    His stremes and his strandes him besides,
+    His herberwe, his mone, and his lode manage,
+    There was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage.
+    Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:
+    With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.
+    He knew wel alle the havens, as they were,
+    From Gotland to the Cape de Finisterre,
+    And every creke in Bretagne and in Spain.”
+
+But gradually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought that there
+was something more to be done in the world than making money.  He became
+a pious man after the fashion of those days.  He worshipped at the famous
+shrine of St. Andrew.  He worshipped, too, at St. Cuthbert’s hermitage at
+Farne, and there, he said afterwards, he longed for the first time for
+the rest and solitude of the hermitage.  He had been sixteen years a
+seaman now, with a seaman’s temptations—it may be (as he told Reginald
+plainly) with some of a seaman’s vices.  He may have done things which
+lay heavy on his conscience.  But it was getting time to think about his
+soul.  He took the cross, and went off to Jerusalem, as many a man did
+then, under difficulties incredible, dying, too often, on the way.  But
+Godric not only got safe thither, but went out of his way home by Spain
+to visit the sanctuary of St. James of Compostella, a see which Pope
+Calixtus II. had just raised to metropolitan dignity.
+
+Then he appears as steward to a rich man in the Fens, whose sons and
+young retainers, after the lawless fashion of those Anglo-Norman times,
+rode out into the country round to steal the peasants’ sheep and cattle,
+skin them on the spot, and pass them off to the master of the house as
+venison taken in hunting.  They ate and drank, roystered and rioted, like
+most other young Normans; and vexed the staid soul of Godric, whose nose
+told him plainly enough, whenever he entered the kitchen, that what was
+roasting had never come off a deer.  In vain he protested and warned
+them, getting only insults for his pains.  At last he told his lord.  The
+lord, as was to be expected, cared nought about the matter.  Let the lads
+rob the English villains: for what other end had their grandfathers
+conquered the land?  Godric punished himself, as he could not punish
+them, for the unwilling share which he had had in the wrong.  It may be
+that he, too, had eaten of that stolen food.  So away he went into
+France, and down the Rhone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of St. Giles,
+the patron saint of the wild deer; and then on to Rome a second time, and
+back to his poor parents in the Fens.
+
+And now follows a strange and beautiful story.  All love of seafaring and
+merchandise had left the deep-hearted sailor.  The heavenly and the
+eternal, the salvation of his sinful soul, had become all in all to him;
+and yet he could not rest in the little dreary village on the Roman bank.
+He would go on pilgrimage again.  Then his mother would go likewise, and
+see St. Peter’s church, and the Pope, and all the wonders of Rome, and
+have her share in all the spiritual blessings which were to be obtained
+(so men thought then) at Rome alone.  So off they set on foot; and when
+they came to ford or ditch, Godric carried his mother on his back, until
+they came to London town.  And there Ædwen took off her shoes, and vowed
+out of devotion to the holy apostles Peter and Paul (who, so she thought,
+would be well pleased at such an act) to walk barefoot to Rome and
+barefoot back again.
+
+Now just as they went out of London, on the Dover Road, there met them in
+the way the loveliest maiden they had ever seen, and asked to bear them
+company in their pilgrimage.  And when they agreed, she walked with them,
+sat with them, and talked with them with superhuman courtesy and grace;
+and when they turned into an inn, she ministered to them herself, and
+washed and kissed their feet, and then lay down with them to sleep, after
+the simple fashion of those days.  But a holy awe of her, as of some
+saint and goddess, fell on the wild seafarer; and he never, so he used to
+aver, treated her for a moment save as a sister.  Never did either ask
+the other who they were, and whence they came; and Godric reported (but
+this was long after the event) that no one of the company of pilgrims
+could see that fair maid, save he and his mother alone.  So they came
+safe to Rome, and back to London town; and when they were at the place
+outside Southwark, where the fair maid had met them first, she asked
+permission to leave them, for she “must go to her own land, where she had
+a tabernacle of rest, and dwelt in the house of her God.”  And then,
+bidding them bless God, who had brought them safe over the Alps, and
+across the sea, and all along that weary road, she went on her way, and
+they saw her no more.
+
+Then with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory, and it may be
+never leaving it, Godric took his mother safe home, and delivered her to
+his father, and bade them both after awhile farewell, and wandered across
+England to Penrith, and hung about the churches there, till some kinsmen
+of his recognised him, and gave him a psalter (he must have taught
+himself to read upon his travels), which he learnt by heart.  Then,
+wandering ever in search of solitude, he went into the woods and found a
+cave, and passed his time therein in prayer, living on green herbs and
+wild honey, acorns and crabs; and when he went about to gather food, he
+fell down on his knees every few yards and said a prayer, and rose and
+went on.
+
+After awhile he wandered on again, until at Wolsingham, in Durham, he met
+with another holy hermit, who had been a monk at Durham, living in a cave
+in forests in which no man dare dwell, so did they swarm with packs of
+wolves; and there the two good men dwelt together till the old hermit
+fell sick, and was like to die.  Godric nursed him, and sat by him, to
+watch for his last breath.  For the same longing had come over him which
+came over Marguerite d’Angoulême when she sat by the dying bed of her
+favourite maid of honour—to see if the spirit, when it left the body,
+were visible, and what kind of thing it was: whether, for instance, it
+was really like the little naked babe which is seen in mediæval
+illuminations flying out of the mouths of dying men.  But, worn out with
+watching, Godric could not keep from sleep.  All but despairing of his
+desire, he turned to the dying man, and spoke, says Reginald, some such
+words as these:—“O spirit! who art diffused in that body in the likeness
+of God, and art still inside that breast, I adjure thee by the Highest,
+that thou leave not the prison of this thine habitation while I am
+overcome by sleep, and know not of it.”  And so he fell asleep: but when
+he woke, the old hermit lay motionless and breathless.  Poor Godric wept,
+called on the dead man, called on God; his simple heart was set on seeing
+this one thing.  And, behold, he was consoled in a wondrous fashion.  For
+about the third hour of the day the breath returned.  Godric hung over
+him, watching his lips.  Three heavy sighs he drew, then a shudder,
+another sigh: {323} and then (so Godric was believed to have said in
+after years) he saw the spirit flit.
+
+What it was like, he did not like to say, for the most obvious
+reason—that he saw nothing, and was an honest man.  A monk teased him
+much to impart to him this great discovery, which seemed to the simple
+untaught sailor a great spiritual mystery, and which was, like some other
+mediæval mysteries which were miscalled spiritual (transubstantiation
+above all), altogether material and gross imaginations.  Godric answered
+wisely enough, that “no man could perceive the substance of the spiritual
+soul.”
+
+But the monk insisting, and giving him no rest, he answered,—whether he
+wished to answer a fool according to his folly, or whether he tried to
+fancy (as men will who are somewhat vain—and if a saint was not vain, it
+was no fault of the monks who beset him) that he had really seen
+something.  He told how it was like a dry, hot wind rolled into a sphere,
+and shining like the clearest glass, but that what it was really like no
+one could express.  Thus much, at least, may be gathered from the
+involved bombast of Reginald.
+
+Another pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre did Godric make before he went
+to the hermitage in Eskdale, and settled finally at Finchale.  And there
+about the hills of Judæa he found, says Reginald, hermits dwelling in
+rock-caves, as they had dwelt since the time of St. Jerome.  He washed
+himself, and his hair shirt and little cross, in the sacred waters of the
+Jordan, and returned, after incredible suffering, to become the saint of
+Finchale.
+
+His hermitage became, in due time, a stately priory, with its community
+of monks, who looked up to the memory of their holy father Godric as to
+that of a demigod.  The place is all ruinate now; the memory of St.
+Godric gone; and not one in ten thousand, perhaps, who visit those
+crumbling walls beside the rushing Wear, has heard of the sailor-saint,
+and his mother, and that fair maid who tended them on their pilgrimage.
+
+Meanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same hermitage in
+Eskdale, from which a Percy expelled St. Godric, possibly because he
+interfered with the prior claim of some _protégé_ of their own; for they
+had, a few years before Godric’s time, granted that hermitage to the
+monks of Whitby, who were not likely to allow a stranger to establish
+himself on their ground.
+
+About that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in the Middle
+Ages, in which the hermit appears as the protector of the hunted wild
+beast; a story, too, which was probably authentic, as the curious custom
+which was said to perpetuate its memory lasted at least till the year
+1753.  I quote it at length from Burton’s “Monasticon Eboracense,” p. 78,
+knowing no other authority.
+
+“In the fifth year of the reign of King Henry II. after the conquest of
+England by William, duke of Normandy, the Lord of Uglebardby, then called
+William de Bruce, and the Lord of Sneton, called Ralph de Perci, with a
+gentleman and a freeholder called Allatson, did on the 16th day of
+October appoint to meet and hunt the wild boar, in a certain wood or
+desert place belonging to the abbot of the monastery of Whitby; the
+place’s name is Eskdale-side; the abbot’s name was Sedman.  Then these
+gentlemen being met, with their hounds and boar-staves, in the place
+before-named, and there having found a great wild boar, the hounds ran
+him well near about the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale-side, where was a
+monk of Whitby, who was a hermit.  The boar being very sore, and very
+hotly pursued, and dead run, took in at the chapel door, and there died:
+whereupon the hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself
+within at his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay
+without.  The gentlemen in the thick of the wood, being put behind their
+game, followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the hermitage,
+calling on the hermit, who opened the door and came forth, and within
+they found the boar lying dead, for which the gentlemen in very great
+fury (because their hounds were put from their game) did most violently
+and cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he died
+soon after: thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and knowing that they
+were in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough.  But at that time
+the abbot, being in very great favour with King Henry, removed them out
+of the sanctuary, whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be
+privileged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was death.
+But the hermit, being a holy and devout man, at the point of death sent
+for the abbot, and desired him to send for the gentlemen who had wounded
+him: the abbot so doing, the gentlemen came, and the hermit, being very
+sick and weak, said unto them, ‘I am sure to die of those wounds you have
+given me.’  The abbot answered, ‘They shall as surely die for the same;’
+but the hermit answered, ‘Not so, for I will freely forgive them my
+death, if they will be contented to be enjoined this penance for the
+safeguard of their souls.’  The gentlemen being present, and terrified
+with the fear of death, bade him enjoin what penance he would, so that he
+would but save their lives.  Then said the hermit, ‘You and yours shall
+hold your lands of the Abbot of Whitby and his successors in this manner:
+That upon Ascension Eve, you or some of you shall come to the woods of
+the Strag Heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same day at sun-rising,
+and there shall the abbot’s officer blow his horn, to the intent that you
+may know how to find him; and he shall deliver unto you, William de
+Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strut-towers, and eleven yethers, to be cut by
+you or some for you, with a knife of one penny price; and you, Ralph de
+Perci, shall take twenty and one of each sort, to be cut in the same
+manner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of each sort, to be cut as
+aforesaid, and to be taken on your backs, and carried to the town of
+Whitby, and to be there before nine of the clock the same day
+before-mentioned; at the same hour of nine of the clock (if it be full
+sea) your labour or service shall cease; but if it be not full sea, each
+of you shall set your stakes at the brim, each stake one yard from the
+other, and so yether them on each side of your yethers, and so stake on
+each side with your strut-towers, that they may stand three tides without
+removing by the force thereof: each of you shall do, make, and execute
+the said service at that very hour every year, except it shall be full
+sea at that hour: but when it shall so fall out, this service shall
+cease.  You shall faithfully do this in remembrance that you did most
+cruelly slay me; and that you may the better call to God for mercy,
+repent unfeignedly for your sins, and do good works, the officers of
+Eskdale-side shall blow, _Out on you_, _out on you_, _out on you_, for
+this heinous crime.  If you or your successors shall refuse this service,
+so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or yours
+shall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, or his successors.  This
+I intreat, and earnestly beg that you may have lives and goods preserved
+for this service; and I request of you to promise by your parts in heaven
+that it shall be done by you and your successors, as it is aforesaid
+requested, and I will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.’  Then
+the hermit said: ‘My soul longeth for the Lord, and I do as freely
+forgive these men my death as Christ forgave the thieves upon the cross;’
+and in the presence of the abbot and the rest he said, moreover, these
+words: ‘Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit, for from the bonds
+of death Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth.  Amen.’  So he yielded
+up the ghost the eighth day of December, A.D. 1160, upon whose soul God
+have mercy.  Amen.”
+
+
+
+
+ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED
+
+
+THE fertile and peaceable lowlands of England, as I have just said,
+offered few spots sufficiently wild and lonely for the habitation of a
+hermit; those, therefore, who wished to retire from the world into a more
+strict and solitary life than that which the monastery afforded were in
+the habit of immuring themselves, as anchorites, or in old English
+“Ankers,” in little cells of stone, built usually against the wall of a
+church.  There is nothing new under the sun; and similar anchorites might
+have been seen in Egypt, 500 years before the time of St. Antony, immured
+in cells in the temples of Isis or Serapis.  It is only recently that
+antiquaries have discovered how common this practice was in England, and
+how frequently the traces of these cells are to be found about our parish
+churches.  They were so common in the Diocese of Lincoln in the
+thirteenth century, that in 1233 the archdeacon is ordered to inquire
+whether any Anchorites’ cells had been built without the Bishop’s leave;
+and in many of our parish churches may be seen, either on the north or
+the south side of the chancel, a narrow slit in the wall, or one of the
+lights of a window prolonged downwards, the prolongation, if not now
+walled up, being closed with a shutter.  Through these apertures the
+“incluse,” or anker, watched the celebration of mass, and partook of the
+Holy Communion.  Similar cells were to be found in Ireland, at least in
+the diocese of Ossory; and doubtless in Scotland also.  Ducange, in his
+Glossary, on the word “inclusi,” lays down rules for the size of the
+anker’s cell, which must be twelve feet square, with three windows, one
+opening into the church, one for taking in his food, and one for light;
+and the “Salisbury Manual” as well as the “Pontifical” of Lacy, bishop of
+Exeter, in the first half of the fifteenth century, contains a regular
+“service” for the walling in of an anchorite. {330}  There exists too a
+most singular and painful book, well known to antiquaries, but to them
+alone, “The Ancren Riwle,” addressed to three young ladies who had
+immured themselves (seemingly about the beginning of the thirteenth
+century) at Kingston Tarrant, in Dorsetshire.
+
+For women as well as men entered these living tombs; and there spent
+their days in dirt and starvation, and such prayer and meditation
+doubtless as the stupified and worn-out intellect could compass; their
+only recreation being the gossip of the neighbouring women, who came to
+peep in through the little window—a recreation in which (if we are to
+believe the author of “The Ancren Riwle”) they were tempted to indulge
+only too freely; till the window of the recluse’s cell, he says, became
+what the smith’s forge or the alehouse has become since—the place where
+all the gossip and scandal of the village passed from one ear to another.
+But we must not believe such scandals of all.  Only too much in earnest
+must those seven young maidens have been, whom St. Gilbert of Sempringham
+persuaded to immure themselves, as a sacrifice acceptable to God, in a
+den along the north wall of his church; or that St. Hutta, or Huetta, in
+the beginning of the thirteenth century, who after ministering to lepers,
+and longing and even trying to become a leper herself, immured herself
+for life in a cell against the church of Huy near Liège.
+
+Fearful must have been the fate of these incluses if any evil had
+befallen the building of which (one may say) they had become a part.
+More than one in the stormy Middle Age may have suffered the fate of the
+poor women immured beside St. Mary’s church at Mantes, who, when town and
+church were burnt by William the Conqueror, unable to escape (or,
+according to William of Malmesbury, thinking it unlawful to quit their
+cells even in that extremity), perished in the flames; and so consummated
+once and for all their long martyrdom.
+
+How long the practice of the hermit life was common in these islands is
+more than my learning enables me to say.  Hermits seem, from the old
+Chartularies, {331} to have been not unfrequent in Scotland and the North
+of England during the whole Middle Age.  We have seen that they were
+frequent in the times of Malcolm Canmore and the old Celtic Church; and
+the Latin Church, which was introduced by St. Margaret, seems to have
+kept up the fashion.  In the middle of the thirteenth century, David de
+Haigh conveyed to the monks of Cupar the hermitage which Gilmichael the
+Hermit once held, with three acres of land.  In 1329 the Convent of
+Durham made a grant of a hermitage to Roger Eller at Norham on the Tweed,
+in order that he might have a “fit place to fight with the old enemy and
+bewail his sins, apart from the turmoil of men.”  In 1445 James the
+Second, king of Scots, granted to John Smith the hermitage in the forest
+of Kilgur, “which formerly belonged in heritage to Hugh Cominch the
+Hermit, and was resigned by him, with the croft and the green belonging
+to it, and three acres of arable land.”
+
+I have quoted these few instances, to show how long the custom lingered;
+and doubtless hermits were to be found in the remoter parts of these
+realms when the sudden tempest of the Reformation swept away alike the
+palace of the rich abbot and the cell of the poor recluse, and
+exterminated throughout England the ascetic life.  The two last hermits
+whom I have come across in history are both figures which exemplify very
+well those times of corruption and of change.  At Loretto (not in Italy,
+but in Musselburgh, near Edinburgh) there lived a hermit who pretended to
+work miracles, and who it seems had charge of some image of “Our Lady of
+Loretto.”  The scandals which ensued from the visits of young folks to
+this hermit roused the wrath of that terrible scourge of monks, Sir David
+Lindsay of the Mount: yet as late as 1536, James the Fifth of Scotland
+made a pilgrimage from Stirling to the shrine, in order to procure a
+propitious passage to France in search of a wife.  But in 1543, Lord
+Hertford, during his destructive voyage to the Forth, destroyed, with
+other objects of greater consequence, the chapel of the “Lady of Lorett,”
+which was not likely in those days to be rebuilt; and so the hermit of
+Musselburgh vanishes from history.
+
+A few years before, in 1537, says Mr. Froude, {333} while the harbours,
+piers, and fortresses were rising in Dover, “an ancient hermit tottered
+night after night from his cell to a chapel on the cliff, and the tapers
+on the altar before which he knelt in his lonely orisons made a familiar
+beacon far over the rolling waters.  The men of the rising world cared
+little for the sentiment of the past.  The anchorite was told sternly by
+the workmen that his light was a signal to the King’s enemies” (a Spanish
+invasion from Flanders was expected), “and must burn no more; and, when
+it was next seen, three of them waylaid the old man on his way home,
+threw him down and beat him cruelly.”
+
+So ended, in an undignified way, as worn-out institutions are wont to
+end, the hermit life in the British Isles.  Will it ever reappear?  Who
+can tell?  To an age of luxury and unbelief has succeeded, more than once
+in history, an age of remorse and superstition.  Gay gentlemen and gay
+ladies may renounce the world, as they did in the time of St. Jerome,
+when the world is ready to renounce them.  We have already our nunneries,
+our monasteries, of more creeds than one; and the mountains of Kerry, or
+the pine forests of the Highlands, may some day once more hold hermits,
+persuading themselves to believe, and at last succeeding in believing,
+the teaching of St. Antony, instead of that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and
+of that Father of the spirits of all flesh, who made love, and marriage,
+and little children, sunshine and flowers, the wings of butterflies and
+the song of birds; who rejoices in his own works, and bids all who truly
+reverence him rejoice in them with him.  The fancy may seem impossible.
+It is not more impossible than many religious phenomena seemed forty
+years ago, which are now no fancies, but powerful facts.
+
+The following books should be consulted by those who wish to follow out
+this curious subject in detail:—
+
+The “Vitæ Patrum Eremiticorum.”
+
+The “Acta Sanctorum.”  The Bollandists are, of course, almost exhaustive
+of any subject on which they treat.  But as they are difficult to find,
+save in a few public libraries, the “Acta Sanctorum” of Surius, or of
+Aloysius Lipommasius, may be profitably consulted.  Butler’s “Lives of
+the Saints” is a book common enough, but of no great value.
+
+M. de Montalembert’s “Moines d’Occident,” and Ozanam’s “Etudes
+Germaniques,” may be read with much profit.
+
+Dr. Reeves’ edition of Adamnan’s “Life of St. Columba,” published by the
+Irish Archæological and Celtic Society, is a treasury of learning, which
+needs no praise of mine.
+
+The lives of St. Cuthbert and St. Godric may be found among the
+publications of the Surtees Society.
+
+
+
+
+FOOTNOTES
+
+
+{12}  About A.D. 368.  See the details in Ammianus Marcellinus, lib.
+xxviii.
+
+{15}  In the Celtic Irish Church, there seems to have been no other
+pattern.  The hermits who became abbots, with their monks, were the only
+teachers of the people—one had almost said, the only Christians.  Whence,
+as early as the sixth century, if not the fifth, they, and their
+disciples of Iona and Scotland, derived their peculiar tonsure, their use
+of bells, their Eastern mode of keeping the Paschal feast, and other
+peculiarities, seemingly without the intervention of Rome, is a mystery
+still unsolved.
+
+{17a}  A book which, from its bearing on present problems, well deserves
+translation.
+
+{17b}  “Vitæ Patrum.”  Published at Antwerp, 1628.
+
+{23}  He is addressing our Lord.
+
+{24}  “Agentes in rebus.”  On the Emperor’s staff?
+
+{27}  St. Augustine says, that Potitianus’s adventure at Trêves happened
+“I know not when.”  His own conversation with Potitianus must have
+happened about A.D. 385, for he was baptized April 25, A.D. 387.  He does
+not mention the name of Potitianus’s emperor: but as Gratian was Augustus
+from A.D. 367 to A.D. 375, and actual Emperor of the West till A.D. 383,
+and as Trêves was his usual residence, he is most probably the person
+meant: but if not, then his father Valentinian.
+
+{29}  See the excellent article on Gratian in Smith’s Dictionary, by Mr.
+Means.
+
+{30}  I cannot explain this fact: but I have seen it with my own eyes.
+
+{32}  I use throughout the text published by Heschelius, in 1611.
+
+{33}  He is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle
+Egypt, A.D. 251.
+
+{34}  Seemingly the Greek language and literature.
+
+{35}  I have thought it more honest to translate ασκήσις by “training,”
+which is now, as then, its true equivalent; being a metaphor drawn from
+the Greek games by St. Paul, 1 Tim. iv. 8.
+
+{41}  I give this passage as it stands in the Greek version.  In the
+Latin, attributed to Evagrius, it is even more extravagant and
+rhetorical.
+
+{42}  Surely the imagery painted on the inner walls of Egyptian tombs,
+and probably believed by Antony and his compeers to be connected with
+devil-worship, explain these visions.  In the “Words of the Elders” a
+monk complains of being troubled with “pictures, old and new.”  Probably,
+again, the pain which Antony felt was the agony of a fever; and the
+visions which he saw, its delirium.
+
+{44}  Here is an instance of the original use of the word “monastery,”
+viz. a cell in which a single person dwelt.
+
+{45}  An allusion to the heathen mysteries.
+
+{49}  A.D. 311.  Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had
+been a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius
+Maximianus; and rose, like him, through the various grades of the army to
+be co-Emperor of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious
+persecutor of the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant.  Such
+were the “kings of the world” from whom those old monks fled.
+
+{52a}  The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile.  “Below the
+cliffs, beside the sea,” as one describes them.
+
+{52b}  Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah,
+between the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony’s monks endure to this
+day.
+
+{60}  This most famous monastery, _i.e._ collection of monks’ cells, in
+Egypt is situate forty miles from Alexandria, on a hill where nitre was
+gathered.  The hospitality and virtue of its inmates are much praised by
+Ruffinus and Palladius.  They were, nevertheless, the chief agents in the
+fanatical murder of Hypatia.
+
+{65}  It appears from this and many other passages, that extempore prayer
+was usual among these monks, as it was afterwards among the Puritans (who
+have copied them in so many other things), whenever a godly man visited
+them.
+
+{66a}  Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism
+calling itself the “Church of the Martyrs,” which refused to communicate
+with the rest of the Eastern Church.  See Smith’s “Dictionary,” on the
+word “Meletius.”
+
+{66b}  Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was Athanasius,
+the writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of God was not
+co-equal and co-eternal with the Father, but created by Him out of
+nothing, and before the world.  His opinions were condemned in the famous
+Council of Nicæa, A.D. 325.
+
+{67}  If St. Antony could use so extreme an argument against the Arians,
+what would he have said to the Mariolatry which sprang up after his
+death?
+
+{68a}  _I.e._ those who were still heathens.
+
+{68b}  ἰερεύς.  The Christian priest is always called in this work simply
+πρεσθύτερος, or elder.
+
+{72a}  Probably that of A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, nominated
+by the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of Antioch,
+expelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great violence was
+committed by his followers and by Philagrius the Prefect.  Athanasius
+meanwhile fled to Rome.
+
+{72b}  _I.e._ celebrated there their own Communion.
+
+{77}  Evidently the primæval custom of embalming the dead, and keeping
+mummies in the house, still lingered among the Egyptians.
+
+{108}  These sounds, like those which St. Guthlac heard in the English
+fens, are plainly those of wild-fowl.
+
+{115}  The Brucheion, with its palaces and museum, the residence of the
+kings and philosophers of Egypt, had been destroyed is the days of
+Claudius and Valerian, during the senseless civil wars which devastated
+Alexandria for twelve years; and monks had probably taken up their abode
+in the ruins.  It was in this quarter, at the beginning of the next
+century, that Hypatia was murdered by the monks.
+
+{116}  Probably the Northern, or Lesser Oasis, Ouah el Baharieh, about
+eighty miles west of the Nile.
+
+{117a}  Jerome (who sailed that sea several times) uses the word here, as
+it is used in Acts xxvii. 27, for the sea about Malta, “driven up and
+down in Adria.”
+
+{117b}  The southern point of Sicily, now Cape Passaro.
+
+{118}  In the Morea, near the modern Navarino.
+
+{119a}  At the mouth of the Bay of Cattaro.
+
+{119b}  This story—whatever belief we may give to its details—is one of
+many which make it tolerably certain that a large snake (Python) still
+lingered in Eastern Europe.  Huge tame snakes were kept as sacred by the
+Macedonian women; and one of them (according to Lucian) Peregrinus
+Proteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitted with a linen mask, and made
+it personate the god Æsculapius.  In the “Historia Lausiaca,” cap. lii.
+is an account by an eye-witness of a large snake in the Thebaid, whose
+track was “as if a beam had been dragged along the sand.”  It terrifies
+the Syrian monks: but the Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying
+that he had seen much larger—even up to fifteen cubits.
+
+{121}  Now Capo St. Angelo and the island of Cerigo, at the southern
+point of Greece.
+
+{123a}  See p. 52.
+
+{123b}  Probably dedicated to the Paphian Venus.
+
+{130}  The lives of these two hermits and that of St. Cuthbert will be
+given in a future number.
+
+{131}  Sihor, the black river, was the ancient name of the Nile, derived
+from the dark hue of its waters.
+
+{159}  Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv. cap. 9.
+
+{160}  By Dr. Burgess.
+
+{163}  History of Christianity, vol. iii. p. 109.
+
+{203}  An authentic fact.
+
+{204}  If any one doubts this, let him try the game called “Russian
+scandal,” where a story, passed secretly from mouth to mouth, ends
+utterly transformed, the original point being lost, a new point
+substituted, original names and facts omitted, and utterly new ones
+inserted, &c. &c.; an experiment which is ludicrous, or saddening,
+according to the temper of the experimenter.
+
+{209}  Les Moines d’Occident, vol. ii. pp. 332–467.
+
+{210}  M. La Borderie, “Discours sur les Saints Bretons;” a work which I
+have unfortunately not been able to consult.
+
+{212a}  Vitæ Patrum, p. 753.
+
+{212b}  Ibid. p. 893.
+
+{212c}  Ibid. p. 539.
+
+{212d}  Ibid. p. 540.
+
+{212e}  Ibid. p. 532.
+
+{224}  It has been handed down, in most crabbed Latin, by his disciple,
+Eugippius; it may be read at length in Pez, Scriptores Austriacarum
+Rerum.
+
+{238}  Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.
+
+{245}  Hæften, quoted by Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.
+
+{256}  Dr. Reeves supposes these to have been “crustacea:” but their
+stinging and clinging prove them surely to have been jelly-fish—medusæ.
+
+{257}  I have followed the Latin prose version of it, which M. Achille
+Jubinal attributes to the eleventh century.  Here and there I have taken
+the liberty of using the French prose version, which he attributes to the
+latter part of the twelfth.  I have often condensed the story, where it
+was prolix or repeated itself: but I have tried to follow faithfully both
+matter and style, and to give, word for word, as nearly as I could, any
+notable passages.  Those who wish to know more of St. Brendan should
+consult the learned _brochure_ of M. Jubinal, “La Légende Latine de St.
+Brandaines,” and the two English versions of the Legend, edited by Mr.
+Thomas Wright for the Percy Society, vol. xiv.  One is in verse, and of
+the earlier part of the fourteenth century, and spirited enough: the
+other, a prose version, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in his edition of
+the “Golden Legend;” 1527.
+
+{260a}  In the Barony of Longford, County Galway.
+
+{260b}  3,000, like 300, seems to be, I am informed, only an Irish
+expression for any large number.
+
+{269}  Some dim legend concerning icebergs, and caves therein.
+
+{270}  Probably from reports of the volcanic coast of Iceland.
+
+{272}  This part of the legend has been changed and humanized as time ran
+on.  In the Latin and French versions it has little or no point or moral.
+In the English, Judas accounts for the presence of the cloth thus:—
+
+    “Here I may see what it is to give other men’s (goods) with harm.
+    As will many rich men with unright all day take,
+    Of poor men here and there, and almisse (alms) sithhe (afterwards)
+    make.”
+
+For the tongs and the stone he accounts by saying that, as he used them
+for “good ends, each thing should surely find him which he did for God’s
+love.”
+
+But in the prose version of Wynkyn de Worde, the tongs have been changed
+into “ox-tongues,” “which I gave some tyme to two preestes to praye for
+me.  I bought them with myne owne money, and therefore they ease me,
+bycause the fysshes of the sea gnaw on them, and spare me.”
+
+This latter story of the ox-tongues has been followed by Mr. Sebastian
+Evans, in his poem on St. Brendan.  Both he and Mr. Matthew Arnold have
+rendered the moral of the English version very beautifully.
+
+{274}  Copied, surely, from the life of Paul the first hermit.
+
+{283}  The famous Cathach, now in the museum of the Royal Irish Academy,
+was long popularly believed to be the very Psalter in question.  As a
+relic of St. Columba it was carried to battle by the O’Donnels, even as
+late as 1497, to insure victory for the clan.
+
+{290}  Bede, book iii. cap. 3.
+
+{292}  These details, and countless stories of St. Cuthbert’s miracles,
+are to be found in Reginald of Durham, “De Admirandis Beati Cuthberti,”
+published by the Surtees Society.  This curious book is admirably edited
+by Mr. J. Raine; with an English synopsis at the end, which enables the
+reader for whom the Latin is too difficult to enjoy those pictures of
+life under Stephen and Henry II., whether moral, religious, or social, of
+which the book is a rich museum.
+
+{299}  “In this hole lie the bones of the Venerable Bede.”
+
+{303}  An English translation of the Anglo-Saxon life has been published
+by Mr. Godwin, of Cambridge, and is well worth perusal.
+
+{312}  Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332, 333.
+
+{316}  The earlier one; that of the Harleian MSS. which (Mr. Stevenson
+thinks) was twice afterwards expanded and decorated by him.
+
+{323}  Reginald wants to make “a wonder incredible in our own times,” of
+a very common form (thank God) of peaceful death.  He makes miracles in
+the same way of the catching of salmon and of otters, simple enough to
+one who, like Godric, knew the river, and every wild thing which haunted
+it.
+
+{330}  That of the Salisbury Manual is published in the “Ecclesiologist”
+for August 1848, by the Rev. Sir W. H. Cope, to whom I am indebted for
+the greater number of these curious facts.
+
+{331}  I owe these facts to the courtesy of Mr. John Stuart, of the
+General Register Office, Edinburgh.
+
+{333}  “History of England,” vol. iii. p. 256, note.
+
+
+
+
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+
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Hermits
+
+
+Author: Charles Kingsley
+
+
+
+Release Date: March 3, 2013  [eBook #8733]
+[This file was first posted on August 5, 2003]
+
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMITS***
+</pre>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1891 Macmillan and Co. edition by David
+Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/fpb.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"St. Brendan setting Sail.&mdash;P. 26"
+title=
+"St. Brendan setting Sail.&mdash;P. 26"
+src="images/fps.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h1>THE HERMITS</h1>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br
+/>
+CHARLES KINGSLEY</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span
+class="GutSmall"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></span></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center">London<br />
+MACMILLAN AND CO.<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">AND NEW YORK</span><br />
+1891</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>The Right of Translation is
+Reserved</i></p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">Richard Clay
+and Sons</span>, <span class="smcap">Limited</span>,<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">LONDON AND BUNGAY.</span></p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>First printed in parts</i>
+1868.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><i>Reprinted in</i> 1
+<i>Volume</i>, <i>Crown</i> 8<i>vo.</i> 1871, 1875, 1880, 1885,
+1890, 1891.</p>
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p>&nbsp;</p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span
+class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">INTRODUCTION</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page1">1</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SAINT ANTONY</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page21">21</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST
+HERMIT</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page83">83</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">HILARION</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page104">104</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ARSENIUS</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page149">149</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE HERMITS OF ASIA</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page155">155</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">BASIL</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page162">162</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">SIMEON STYLITES</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page167">167</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE HERMITS OF EUROPE</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page219">219</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF
+NORICUM</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page224">224</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">THE CELTIC HERMITS</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page246">246</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. MALO</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page278">278</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. COLUMBA</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page282">282</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. GUTHLAC</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page300">300</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page309">309</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO
+CALLED</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a
+href="#page329">329</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<table>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">ST. BRENDAN SETTING SAIL</span></p>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>Frontispiece</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">LIFE OF ST. ANTHONY</span></p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;And having committed his sister to known
+and faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith to be educated
+in a nunnery,&rdquo; &amp;c.</p>
+</blockquote>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>To face</i> <span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page35">35</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td><p><span class="GutSmall">PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT</span></p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;For entering the cave he saw, with bended
+knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on high, a lifeless
+corpse.&nbsp; And at first, thinking that it still lived,&rdquo;
+&amp;c.</p>
+</blockquote>
+</td>
+<td><p style="text-align: right"><i>To face</i> <span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page92">92</a></span></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+1</span>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">St. Paphnutius</span> used to tell a story
+which may serve as a fit introduction to this book.&nbsp; It
+contains a miniature sketch, not only of the social state of
+Egypt, but of the whole Roman Empire, and of the causes which led
+to the famous monastic movement in the beginning of the fifth
+century after Christ.</p>
+<p>Now Paphnutius was a wise and holy hermit, the Father, Abba,
+or Abbot of many monks; and after he had trained himself in the
+desert with all severity for many years, he besought God to show
+him which of His saints he was like.</p>
+<p>And it was said to him, &ldquo;Thou art like a certain
+flute-player in the city.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Paphnutius took his staff, and went into the city, and
+found that flute-player.&nbsp; But he confessed that he was a
+drunkard and a profligate, and had till lately got his living by
+robbery, and recollected not having ever done one good
+deed.&nbsp; Nevertheless, when Paphnutius questioned him more
+closely, he said that he recollected once having found a holy
+maiden beset by robbers, and having delivered her, and brought
+her safe to town.&nbsp; And when Paphnutius questioned him more
+closely still, he said he recollected having done another
+deed.&nbsp; When he was a robber, he met once in the desert a
+beautiful woman; and she prayed him to do her no harm, but to
+take her away with him as a slave, whither he would; for, said
+she, &ldquo;I am fleeing from the apparitors and the
+Governor&rsquo;s curials for the last two years.&nbsp; My husband
+has been imprisoned for 300 pieces of gold, which he owes as
+arrears of taxes; and has been often hung up, and often scourged;
+and my three dear boys have been taken from me; and I am
+wandering from place to place, and have been often caught myself
+and continually scourged; and now I have been in the desert three
+days without food.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And when the robber heard that, he took pity on her, and took
+her to his cave, and gave her 300 pieces of gold, and went with
+her to the city, and set her husband and her boys free.</p>
+<p>Then Paphnutius said, &ldquo;I never did a deed like that: and
+yet I have not passed my life in ease and idleness.&nbsp; But
+now, my son, since God hath had such care of thee, have a care
+for thine own self.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And when the musician heard that, he threw away the flutes
+which he held in his hand, and went with Paphnutius into the
+desert, and passed his life in hymns and prayer, changing his
+earthly music into heavenly; and after three years he went to
+heaven, and was at rest among the choirs of angels, and the ranks
+of the just.</p>
+<p>This story, as I said, is a miniature sketch of the state of
+the whole Roman Empire, and of the causes why men fled from it
+into the desert.&nbsp; Christianity had reformed the morals of
+individuals; it had not reformed the Empire itself.&nbsp; That
+had sunk into a state only to be compared with the worst
+despotisms of the East.&nbsp; The Emperors, whether or not they
+called themselves Christian, like Constantine, knew no law save
+the basest maxims of the heathen world.&nbsp; Several of them
+were barbarians who had risen from the lowest rank merely by
+military prowess; and who, half maddened by their sudden
+elevation, added to their native ignorance and brutality the
+pride, cunning, and cruelty of an Eastern Sultan.&nbsp; Rival
+Emperors, or Generals who aspired to be Emperors, devastated the
+world from Egypt to Britain by sanguinary civil wars.&nbsp; The
+government of the provinces had become altogether military.&nbsp;
+Torture was employed, not merely, as of old, against slaves, but
+against all ranks, without distinction.&nbsp; The people were
+exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent in wars which did not
+concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had no
+share.&nbsp; In the municipal towns, liberty and justice were
+dead.&nbsp; The curials, who answered somewhat to our aldermen,
+and who were responsible for the payment of the public moneys,
+tried their best to escape the unpopular office, and, when
+compelled to serve, wrung the money in self-defence out of the
+poorer inhabitants by every kind of tyranny.&nbsp; The land was
+tilled either by oppressed and miserable peasants, or by gangs of
+slaves, in comparison with whose lot that even of the American
+negro was light.&nbsp; The great were served in their own
+households by crowds of slaves, better fed, doubtless, but even
+more miserable and degraded, than those who tilled the
+estates.&nbsp; Private profligacy among all ranks was such as
+cannot be described in these or in any modern pages.&nbsp; The
+regular clergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and
+for the most part, in accordance with public opinion, unmarried,
+were able to make no stand against the general corruption of the
+age, because&mdash;at least if we are to trust such writers as
+Jerome and Chrysostom&mdash;they were giving themselves up to
+ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury, intrigue and party
+spirit, and had become the flatterers of fine ladies,
+&ldquo;silly women laden with sins, ever learning, and never
+coming to the knowledge of the truth.&rdquo;&nbsp; Such a state
+of things not only drove poor creatures into the desert, like
+that fair woman whom the robber met, but it raised up bands of
+robbers over the whole of Europe, Africa, and the East,&mdash;men
+who, like Robin Hood and the outlaws of the Middle Age, getting
+no justice from man, broke loose from society, and while they
+plundered their oppressors, kept up some sort of rude justice and
+humanity among themselves.&nbsp; Many, too, fled, and became
+robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which carried off
+from every province the flower of the young men, to shed their
+blood on foreign battle-fields.&nbsp; In time, too, many of these
+conscripts became monks, and the great monasteries of Scetis and
+Nitria were hunted over again and again by officers and soldiers
+from the neighbouring city of Alexandria in search of young men
+who had entered the &ldquo;spiritual warfare&rdquo; to escape the
+earthly one.&nbsp; And as a background to all this seething heap
+of decay, misrule, and misery, hung the black cloud of the
+barbarians, the Teutonic tribes from whom we derive the best part
+of our blood, ever coming nearer and nearer, waxing stronger and
+stronger, learning discipline and civilization by serving in the
+Roman armies, alternately the allies and the enemies of the
+Emperors, rising, some of them, to the highest offices of State,
+and destined, so the wisest Romans saw all the more clearly as
+the years rolled on, to be soon the conquerors of the
+C&aelig;sars, and the masters of the Western world.</p>
+<p>No wonder if that, in such a state of things, there arose such
+violent contrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric
+protests against the general wickedness, as may be seen in the
+figure of Abbot Paphnutius, when compared either with the poor
+man tortured in prison for his arrears of taxes, or with the
+Governor and the officials who tortured him.&nbsp; No wonder if,
+in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a
+passion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of
+suicide.&nbsp; It would have ended often, but for Christianity,
+in such an actual despair as that which had led in past ages more
+than one noble Roman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for
+the Republic.&nbsp; Christianity taught those who despaired of
+society, of the world&mdash;in one word, of the Roman Empire, and
+all that it had done for men&mdash;to hope at least for a kingdom
+of God after death.&nbsp; It taught those who, had they been
+heathens and brave enough, would have slain themselves to escape
+out of a world which was no place for honest men, that the body
+must be kept alive, if for no other reason, at least for the sake
+of the immortal soul, doomed, according to its works, to endless
+bliss or endless torment.</p>
+<p>But that the world&mdash;such, at least, as they saw it
+then&mdash;was doomed, Scripture and their own reason taught
+them.&nbsp; They did not merely believe, but see, in the misery
+and confusion, the desolation and degradation around them, that
+all that was in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the
+eye, and the pride of life, was not of the Father, but of the
+world; that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and
+that only he who did the will of God could abide for ever.&nbsp;
+They did not merely believe, but saw, that the wrath of God was
+revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness of men; and that
+the world in general&mdash;above all, its kings and rulers, the
+rich and luxurious&mdash;were treasuring up for themselves wrath,
+tribulation, and anguish, against a day of wrath and revelation
+of the righteous judgment of God, who would render to every man
+according to his works.</p>
+<p>That they were correct in their judgment of the world about
+them, contemporary history proves abundantly.&nbsp; That they
+were correct, likewise, in believing that some fearful judgment
+was about to fall on man, is proved by the fact that it did fall;
+that the first half of the fifth century saw, not only the sack
+of Rome, but the conquest and desolation of the greater part of
+the civilized world, amid bloodshed, misery, and misrule, which
+seemed to turn Europe into a chaos,&mdash;which would have turned
+it into a chaos, had there not been a few men left who still felt
+it possible and necessary to believe in God and to work
+righteousness.</p>
+<p>Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a
+doomed world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they
+might save each man his own soul in that dread day.</p>
+<p>Others, not Christians, had done the same before them.&nbsp;
+Among all the Eastern nations men had appeared, from time to
+time, to whom the things seen were but a passing phantom, the
+things unseen the only true and eternal realities; who, tormented
+alike by the awfulness of the infinite unknown, and by the petty
+cares and low passions of the finite mortal life which they knew
+but too well, had determined to renounce the latter, that they
+might give themselves up to solving the riddle of the former; and
+be at peace; and free, at least, from the tyranny of their own
+selves.&nbsp; Eight hundred years before St. Antony fled into the
+desert, that young Hindoo rajah, whom men call Buddha now, had
+fled into the forest, leaving wives and kingdom, to find rest for
+his soul.&nbsp; He denounced caste; he preached poverty,
+asceticism, self-annihilation.&nbsp; He founded a religion, like
+that of the old hermits, democratic and ascetic, with its
+convents, saint-worships, pilgrimages, miraculous relics,
+rosaries, and much more, which strangely anticipates the monastic
+religion; and his followers, to this day, are more numerous than
+those of any other creed.</p>
+<p>Brahmins, too, had given themselves up to penance and
+mortification till they believed themselves able, like Kehama, to
+have gained by self-torture the right to command, not nature
+merely, but the gods themselves.&nbsp; Among the Jews the Essenes
+by the Dead Sea, and the Therapeut&aelig; in Egypt, had formed
+ascetic communities, the former more &ldquo;practical,&rdquo; the
+latter more &ldquo;contemplative:&rdquo; but both alike agreed in
+the purpose of escaping from the world into a life of poverty and
+simplicity, piety and virtue; and among the countless philosophic
+sects of Asia, known to ecclesiastical writers as
+&ldquo;heretics,&rdquo; more than one had professed, and
+doubtless often practised, the same abstraction from the world,
+the same contempt of the flesh.&nbsp; The very Neo-Platonists of
+Alexandria, while they derided the Christian asceticism, found
+themselves forced to affect, like the hapless Hypatia, a
+sentimental and pharisaic asceticism of their own.&nbsp; This
+phase of sight and feeling, so strange to us now, was common,
+nay, prim&aelig;val, among the Easterns.&nbsp; The day was come
+when it should pass from the East into the West.&nbsp; And Egypt,
+&ldquo;the mother of wonders;&rdquo; the parent of so much
+civilization and philosophy both Greek and Roman; the half-way
+resting-place through which not merely the merchandise, but the
+wisdom of the East had for centuries passed into the Roman
+Empire; a land more ill-governed, too, and more miserable, in
+spite of its fertility, because more defenceless and effeminate,
+than most other Roman possessions&mdash;was the country in which
+naturally, and as it were of hereditary right, such a movement
+would first appear.</p>
+<p>Accordingly it was discovered, about the end of the fourth
+century, that the mountains and deserts of Egypt were full of
+Christian men who had fled out of the dying world, in the hope of
+attaining everlasting life.&nbsp; Wonderful things were told of
+their courage, their abstinence, their miracles: and of their
+virtues also; of their purity, their humility, their helpfulness,
+and charity to each other and to all.&nbsp; They called each
+other, it was said, brothers; and they lived up to that sacred
+name, forgotten, if ever known, by the rest of the Roman
+Empire.&nbsp; Like the Apostolic Christians in the first fervour
+of their conversion, they had all things in common; they lived at
+peace with each other, under a mild and charitable rule; and kept
+literally those commands of Christ which all the rest of the
+world explained away to nothing.</p>
+<p>The news spread.&nbsp; It chimed in with all that was best, as
+well as with much that was questionable, in the public
+mind.&nbsp; That men could be brothers; that they could live
+without the tawdry luxury, the tasteless and often brutal
+amusements, the low sensuality, the base intrigue, the bloody
+warfare, which was the accepted lot of the many; that they could
+find time to look stedfastly at heaven and hell as awful
+realities, which must be faced some day, which had best be faced
+at once; this, just as much as curiosity about their alleged
+miracles, and the selfish longing to rival them in superhuman
+powers, led many of the most virtuous and the most learned men of
+the time to visit them, and ascertain the truth.&nbsp; Jerome,
+Ruffinus, Evagrius, Sulpicius Severus, went to see them,
+undergoing on the way the severest toils and dangers, and brought
+back reports of mingled truth and falsehood, specimens of which
+will be seen in these pages.&nbsp; Travelling in those days was a
+labour, if not of necessity, then surely of love.&nbsp;
+Palladius, for instance, found it impossible to visit the Upper
+Thebaid, and Syene, and that &ldquo;infinite multitude of monks,
+whose fashions of life no one would believe, for they surpass
+human life; who to this day raise the dead, and walk upon the
+waters, like Peter; and whatsoever the Saviour did by the holy
+Apostles, He does now by them.&nbsp; But because it would be very
+dangerous if we went beyond Lyco&rdquo; (Lycopolis?), on account
+of the inroad of robbers, he &ldquo;could not see those
+saints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The holy men and women of whom he wrote, he says, he did not
+see without extreme toil; and seven times he and his companions
+were nearly lost.&nbsp; Once they walked through the desert five
+days and nights, and were almost worn out by hunger and
+thirst.&nbsp; Again, they fell on rough marshes, where the sedge
+pierced their feet, and caused intolerable pain, while they were
+almost killed with the cold.&nbsp; Another time, they stuck in
+the mud up to their waists, and cried with David, &ldquo;I am
+come into deep mire, where no ground is.&rdquo;&nbsp; Another
+time, they waded for four days through the flood of the Nile by
+paths almost swept away.&nbsp; Another time they met robbers on
+the seashore, coming to Diolcos, and were chased by them for ten
+miles.&nbsp; Another time they were all but upset and drowned in
+crossing the Nile.&nbsp; Another time, in the marshes of
+Mareotis, &ldquo;where paper grows,&rdquo; they were cast on a
+little desert island, and remained three days and nights in the
+open air, amid great cold and showers, for it was the season of
+Epiphany.&nbsp; The eighth peril, he says, is hardly worth
+mentioning&mdash;but once, when they went to Nitria, they came on
+a great hollow, in which many crocodiles had remained, when the
+waters retired from the fields.&nbsp; Three of them lay along the
+bank; and the monks went up to them, thinking them dead, whereon
+the crocodiles rushed at them.&nbsp; But when they called loudly
+on the Lord, &ldquo;the monsters, as if turned away by an
+angel,&rdquo; shot themselves into the water; while they ran on
+to Nitria, meditating on the words of Job, &ldquo;Seven times
+shall He deliver thee from trouble; and in the eighth there shall
+no evil touch thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The great St. Athanasius, fleeing from persecution, had taken
+refuge among these monks.&nbsp; He carried the report of their
+virtues to Tr&ecirc;ves in Gaul, and wrote a life of St. Antony,
+the perusal of which was a main agent in the conversion of St.
+Augustine.&nbsp; Hilarion (a remarkable personage, whose history
+will be told hereafter) carried their report and their example
+likewise into Palestine; and from that time Jud&aelig;a, desolate
+and seemingly accursed by the sin of the Jewish people, became
+once more the Holy Land; the place of pilgrimage; whose ruins,
+whose very soil, were kept sacred by hermits, the guardians of
+the footsteps of Christ.</p>
+<p>In Rome itself the news produced an effect which, to the
+thoughtful mind, is altogether tragical in its nobleness.&nbsp;
+The Roman aristocracy was deprived of all political power; it had
+been decimated, too, with horrible cruelty only one generation
+before, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12"
+class="citation">[12]</a> by Valentinian and his satellites, on
+the charges of profligacy, treason, and magic.&nbsp; Mere rich
+men, they still lingered on, in idleness and luxury, without art,
+science, true civilization of any kind; followed by long trains
+of slaves; punishing a servant with three hundred stripes if he
+were too long in bringing hot water; weighing the fish, or birds,
+or dormice put on their tables, while secretaries stood by, with
+tablets to record all; hating learning as they hated poison;
+indulging at the baths in conduct which had best be left
+undescribed; and &ldquo;complaining that they were not born among
+the Cimmerians, if amid their golden fans a fly should perch upon
+the silken fringes, or a slender ray of the sun should pierce
+through the awning;&rdquo; while, if they &ldquo;go any distance
+to see their estates in the country, or to hunt at a meeting
+collected for their amusement by others, they think that they
+have equalled the marches of Alexander or of
+C&aelig;sar.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On the wives, widows, and daughters of men of this
+stamp&mdash;and not half their effeminacy and baseness, as the
+honest rough old soldier Ammianus Marcellinus describes it, has
+been told here&mdash;the news brought from Egypt worked with
+wondrous potency.</p>
+<p>Women of the highest rank awoke suddenly to the discovery that
+life was given them for nobler purposes than that of frivolous
+enjoyment and tawdry vanity.&nbsp; Despising themselves;
+despising the husbands to whom they had been wedded in loveless
+marriages <i>de convenance</i>, whose infidelities they had too
+often to endure: they, too, fled from a world which had sated and
+sickened them.&nbsp; They freed their slaves; they gave away
+their wealth to found hospitals and to feed the poor; and in
+voluntary poverty and mean garments they followed such men as
+Jerome and Ruffinus across the seas, to visit the new found
+saints of the Egyptian desert, and to end their days, in some
+cases, in doleful monasteries in Palestine.&nbsp; The lives of
+such women as those of the Anician house; the lives of Marcella
+and Furia, of Paula, of the Melanias, and the rest, it is not my
+task to write.&nbsp; They must be told by a woman, not by a
+man.&nbsp; We may blame those ladies, if we will, for neglecting
+their duties.&nbsp; We may sneer, if we will, at the
+weaknesses&mdash;the aristocratic pride, the spiritual
+vanity&mdash;which we fancy that we discover.&nbsp; We may
+lament&mdash;and in that we shall not be wrong&mdash;the
+influence which such men as Jerome obtained over them&mdash;the
+example and precursor of so much which has since then been
+ruinous to family and social life: but we must confess that the
+fault lay not with the themselves, but with their fathers,
+husbands, and brothers; we must confess that in these women the
+spirit of the old Roman matrons, which seemed to have been so
+long dead, flashed up for one splendid moment, ere it sunk into
+the darkness of the Middle Age; that in them woman asserted
+(however strangely and fantastically) her moral equality with
+man; and that at the very moment when monasticism was consigning
+her to contempt, almost to abhorrence, as &ldquo;the noxious
+animal,&rdquo; the &ldquo;fragile vessel,&rdquo; the cause of
+man&rsquo;s fall at first, and of his sin and misery ever since,
+woman showed the monk (to his na&iuml;vely-confessed surprise),
+that she could dare, and suffer, and adore as well as he.</p>
+<p>But the movement, having once seized the Roman Empire, grew
+and spread irresistibly.&nbsp; It was accepted, supported,
+preached, practised, by every great man of the time.&nbsp;
+Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, Gregory of Nazianzen in the East,
+Jerome, Augustine, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Fulgentius, Sulpicius
+Severus, Vincent of Lerins, John Cassian, Martin of Tours,
+Salvian, C&aelig;sarius of Arles, were all monks, or as much of
+monks as their duties would allow them to be.&nbsp; Ambrose of
+Milan, though no monk himself, was the fervent preacher of, the
+careful legislator for, monasticism male and female.&nbsp;
+Throughout the whole Roman Empire, in the course of a century,
+had spread hermits (or dwellers in the desert), anchorites
+(retired from the world), or monks (dwellers alone).&nbsp; The
+three names grew afterwards to designate three different orders
+of ascetics.&nbsp; The hermits remained through the Middle Ages
+those who dwelt in deserts; the anchorites, or
+&ldquo;ankers&rdquo; of the English Middle Age, seem generally to
+have inhabited cells built in, or near, the church walls; the
+name of &ldquo;monks&rdquo; was transferred from those who dwelt
+alone to those who dwelt in regular communities, under a fixed
+government.&nbsp; But the three names at first were
+interchangeable; the three modes of life alternated, often in the
+same man.&nbsp; The life of all three was the
+same,&mdash;celibacy, poverty, good deeds towards their
+fellow-men; self-restraint, and sometimes self-torture of every
+kind, to atone (as far as might be) for the sins committed after
+baptism: and the mental food of all three was the same likewise;
+continued meditation upon the vanity of the world, the sinfulness
+of the flesh, the glories of heaven, and the horrors of hell: but
+with these the old hermits combined&mdash;to do them
+justice&mdash;a personal faith in God, and a personal love for
+Christ, which those who sneer at them would do well to copy.</p>
+<p>Over all Europe, even to Ireland, <a name="citation15"></a><a
+href="#footnote15" class="citation">[15]</a> the same pattern of
+Christian excellence repeated itself with strange regularity,
+till it became the only received pattern; and to &ldquo;enter
+religion,&rdquo; or &ldquo;be converted,&rdquo; meant simply to
+become a monk.</p>
+<p>Of the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few
+specimens are given in this volume.&nbsp; If they shall seem to
+any reader uncouth, or even absurd, he must remember that they
+are the only existing and the generally contemporaneous histories
+of men who exercised for 1,300 years an enormous influence over
+the whole of Christendom; who exercise a vast influence over the
+greater part of it to this day.&nbsp; They are the biographies of
+men who were regarded, during their lives and after their deaths,
+as divine and inspired prophets; and who were worshipped with
+boundless trust and admiration by millions of human beings.&nbsp;
+Their fame and power were not created by the priesthood.&nbsp;
+The priesthood rather leant on them, than they on it.&nbsp; They
+occupied a post analogous to that of the old Jewish prophets;
+always independent of, sometimes opposed to, the regular clergy;
+and dependent altogether on public opinion and the suffrage of
+the multitude.&nbsp; When Christianity, after three centuries of
+repression and persecution, emerged triumphant as the creed of
+the whole civilized world, it had become what their lives
+describe.&nbsp; The model of religious life for the fifth
+century, it remained a model for succeeding centuries; on the
+lives of St. Antony and his compeers were founded the whole
+literature of saintly biographies; the whole popular conception
+of the universe, and of man&rsquo;s relation to it; the whole
+science of d&aelig;monology, with its peculiar literature, its
+peculiar system of criminal jurisprudence.&nbsp; And their
+influence did not cease at the Reformation among Protestant
+divines.&nbsp; The influence of these Lives of the Hermit Fathers
+is as much traceable, even to style and language, in &ldquo;The
+Pilgrim&rsquo;s Progress&rdquo; as in the last Papal
+Allocution.&nbsp; The great hermits of Egypt were not merely the
+founders of that vast monastic system which influenced the whole
+politics, and wars, and social life, as well as the whole
+religion, of the Middle Age; they were a school of philosophers
+(as they rightly called themselves) who altered the whole current
+of human thought.</p>
+<p>Those who wish for a general notion of the men, and of their
+time, will find all that they require (set forth from different
+points of view, though with the same honesty and learning) in
+Gibbon; in M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s &ldquo;Moines
+d&rsquo;Occident,&rdquo; in Dean Milman&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of
+Christianity&rdquo; and &ldquo;Latin Christianity,&rdquo; and in
+Ozanam&rsquo;s &ldquo;Etudes Germaniques.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation17a"></a><a href="#footnote17a"
+class="citation">[17a]</a>&nbsp; But the truest notion of the men
+is to be got, after all, from the original documents; and
+especially from that curious collection of them by the Jesuit
+Rosweyde, commonly known as the &ldquo;Lives of the Hermit
+Fathers.&rdquo; <a name="citation17b"></a><a href="#footnote17b"
+class="citation">[17b]</a></p>
+<p>After an acquaintance of now five-and-twenty years with this
+wonderful treasury of early Christian mythology, to which all
+fairy tales are dull and meagre, I am almost inclined to
+sympathise with M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+questions,&mdash;&ldquo;Who is so ignorant, or so unfortunate, as
+not to have devoured these tales of the heroic age of
+monachism?&nbsp; Who has not contemplated, if not with the eyes
+of faith, at least with the admiration inspired by an
+incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles of these athletes
+of penitence? . . . .&nbsp; Everything is to be found
+there&mdash;variety, pathos, the sublime and simple epic of a
+race of men, <i>na&iuml;fs</i> as children, and strong as
+giants.&rdquo;&nbsp; In whatever else one may differ from M. de
+Montalembert&mdash;and it is always painful to differ from one
+whose pen has been always the faithful servant of virtue and
+piety, purity and chivalry, loyalty and liberty, and whose
+generous appreciation of England and the English is the more
+honourable to him, by reason of an utter divergence in opinion,
+which in less wide and noble spirits produces only
+antipathy&mdash;one must at least agree with him in his estimate
+of the importance of these &ldquo;Lives of the Fathers,&rdquo;
+not only to the ecclesiologist, but to the psychologist and the
+historian.&nbsp; Their influence, subtle, often transformed and
+modified again and again, but still potent from its very
+subtleness, is being felt around us in many a
+puzzle&mdash;educational, social, political; and promises to be
+felt still more during the coming generation; and to have studied
+thoroughly one of them&mdash;say the life of St. Antony by St.
+Athanasius&mdash;is to have had in our hands (whether we knew it
+or not) the key to many a lock, which just now refuses either to
+be tampered with or burst open.</p>
+<p>I have determined, therefore, to give a few of these lives,
+translated as literally as possible.&nbsp; Thus the reader will
+then have no reason to fear a garbled or partial account of
+personages so difficult to conceive or understand.&nbsp; He will
+be able to see the men as wholes; to judge (according to his
+light) of their merits and their defects.&nbsp; The very style of
+their biographers (which is copied as literally as is compatible
+with the English tongue) will teach him, if he be wise, somewhat
+of the temper and habits of thought of the age in which they
+lived; and one of these original documents, with its honesty, its
+vivid touches of contemporary manners, its intense earnestness,
+will give, perhaps, a more true picture of the whole hermit
+movement than (with all respect, be it said) the most brilliant
+general panorama.</p>
+<p>It is impossible to give in this series all the lives of the
+early hermits&mdash;even of those contained in Rosweyde.&nbsp;
+This volume will contain, therefore, only the most important and
+most famous lives of the Egyptian, Syrian, and Persian hermits,
+followed, perhaps, by a few later biographies from Western
+Europe, as proofs that the hermit-type, as it spread toward the
+Atlantic, remained still the same as in the Egyptian desert.</p>
+<p>Against one modern mistake the reader must be warned; the
+theory, namely, that these biographies were written as religious
+romances; edifying, but not historical; to be admired, but not
+believed.&nbsp; There is not the slightest evidence that such was
+the case.&nbsp; The lives of these, and most other saints
+(certainly those in this volume), were written by men who
+believed the stories themselves, after such inquiry into the
+facts as they deemed necessary; who knew that others would
+believe them; and who intended that they should do so; and the
+stones were believed accordingly, and taken as matter of fact for
+the most practical purposes by the whole of Christendom.&nbsp;
+The forging of miracles, like the forging of charters, for the
+honour of a particular shrine, or the advantage of a particular
+monastery, belongs to a much later and much worse age; and,
+whatsoever we may think of the taste of the authors of these
+lives, or of their faculty for judging of evidence, we must at
+least give them credit for being earnest men, incapable of what
+would have been in their eyes, and ought to be in ours, not
+merely falsehood, but impiety.&nbsp; Let the reader be sure of
+this&mdash;that these documents would not have exercised their
+enormous influence on the human mind, had there not been in them,
+under whatever accidents of credulity, and even absurdity, an
+element of sincerity, virtue, and nobility.</p>
+<h2><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>SAINT
+ANTONY</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> life of Antony, by Athanasius,
+is perhaps the most important of all these biographies; because
+first, Antony was generally held to be the first great example
+and preacher of the hermit life; because next, Athanasius, his
+biographer, having by his controversial writings established the
+orthodox faith as it is now held alike by Romanists, Greeks, and
+Protestants, did, by his publication of the life of Antony,
+establish the hermit life as the ideal (in his opinion) of
+Christian excellence; and lastly, because that biography
+exercised a most potent influence on the conversion of St.
+Augustine, the greatest thinker (always excepting St. Paul) whom
+the world had seen since Plato, whom the world was to see again
+till Lord Bacon; the theologian and philosopher (for he was the
+latter, as well as the former, in the strictest sense) to whom
+the world owes, not only the formulizing of the whole scheme of
+the universe for a thousand years after his death, but Calvinism
+(wrongly so called) in all its forms, whether held by the
+Augustinian party in the Church of Rome, or the
+&ldquo;Reformed&rdquo; Churches of Geneva, France, and
+Scotland.</p>
+<p>Whether we have the exact text of the document as Athanasius
+wrote it to the &ldquo;Foreign Brethren&rdquo;&mdash;probably the
+religious folk of Tr&ecirc;ves&mdash;in the Greek version
+published by Heschelius in 1611, and in certain earlier Greek
+texts; whether the Latin translation attributed to Evagrius,
+which has been well known for centuries past in the Latin Church,
+be actually his; whether it be exactly that of which St. Jerome
+speaks, and whether it be exactly that which St. Augustine saw,
+are questions which it is now impossible to decide.&nbsp; But of
+the genuineness of the life in its entirety we have no right to
+doubt, contrary to the verdicts of the most distinguished
+scholars, whether Protestant or Catholic; and there is fair
+reason to suppose that the document (allowing for errors and
+variations of transcribers) which I have tried to translate, is
+that of which the great St. Augustine speaks in the eighth book
+of his Confessions.</p>
+<p>He tells us that he was reclaimed at last from a profligate
+life (the thought of honourable marriage seems never to have
+entered his mind), by meeting, while practising as a rhetorician
+at Tr&ecirc;ves, an old African acquaintance, named Potitanius,
+an officer of rank.&nbsp; What followed no words can express so
+well as those of the great genius himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I told him that I was giving much attention to
+those writings (the Epistles of Paul), we began to talk, and he
+to tell, of Antony, the monk of Egypt, whose name was then very
+famous among thy servants: <a name="citation23"></a><a
+href="#footnote23" class="citation">[23]</a> but was unknown to
+us till that moment.&nbsp; When he discovered that, he spent some
+time over the subject, detailing his virtues, and wondering at
+our ignorance.&nbsp; We were astounded at hearing such
+well-attested marvels of him, so recent and almost
+contemporaneous, wrought in the right faith of the Catholic
+Church.&nbsp; We all wondered: we, that they were so great; and
+he, that we had not heard of them.&nbsp; Thence his discourse ran
+on to those flocks of hermit-cells, and the morals of thy
+sweetness, and the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which
+we knew nought.&nbsp; There was a monastery, too, at Milan, full
+of good brethren, outside the city walls, under the tutelage of
+Ambrosius, and we knew nothing of it.&nbsp; He went on still
+speaking, and we listened intently; and it befell that he told us
+how, I know not when, he and three of his mess companions at
+Tr&ecirc;ves, while the emperor was engaged in an afternoon
+spectacle in the circus, went out for a walk in the gardens round
+the walls; and as they walked there in pairs, one with him alone,
+and the two others by themselves, they parted.&nbsp; And those
+two, straying about, burst into a cottage, where dwelt certain
+servants of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the kingdom of
+heaven; and there found a book, in which was written the life of
+Antony.&nbsp; One of them began to read it, and to wonder, and to
+be warned; and, as he read, to think of taking up such a life,
+and leaving the warfare of this world to serve thee.&nbsp; Now,
+he was one of those whom they call Managers of Affairs. <a
+name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24"
+class="citation">[24]</a>&nbsp; Then, suddenly filled with holy
+love and sober shame, angered at himself, he cast his eyes on his
+friend, and said, &lsquo;Tell me, prithee, with all these labours
+of ours, whither are we trying to get?&nbsp; What are we
+seeking?&nbsp; For what are we soldiering?&nbsp; Can we have a
+higher hope in the palace, than to become friends of the
+emperor?&nbsp; And when there, what is not frail and full of
+dangers?&nbsp; And through how many dangers we do not arrive at a
+greater danger still?&nbsp; And how long will that last?&nbsp;
+But if I choose to become a friend of God, I can do it here and
+now.&rsquo;&nbsp; He spoke thus, and, swelling in the
+labour-pangs of a new life, he fixed his eyes again on the pages
+and read, and was changed inwardly as thou lookedst on him, and
+his mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared.&nbsp; For
+while he read, and rolled over the billows of his soul, he
+shuddered and hesitated from time to time, and resolved better
+things; and already thine, he said to his friend, &lsquo;I have
+already torn myself from that hope of ours, and have settled to
+serve God; and this I begin from this hour, in this very
+place.&nbsp; If you do not like to imitate me, do not oppose
+me.&rsquo;&nbsp; He replied that he would cling to his companion
+in such a great service and so great a warfare.&nbsp; And both,
+now thine, began building, at their own cost, the tower of
+leaving all things and following thee.&nbsp; Then Potitianus, and
+the man who was talking with him elsewhere in the garden, seeking
+them, came to the same place, and warned them to return, as the
+sun was getting low.&nbsp; They, however, told their resolution,
+and how it had sprung up and taken strong hold in them, and
+entreated the others not to give them pain.&nbsp; They, not
+altered from their former mode of life, yet wept (as he told us)
+for themselves; and congratulated them piously, and commended
+themselves to their prayers; and then dragging their hearts along
+the earth, went back to the palace.&nbsp; But the others, fixing
+their hearts on heaven, remained in the cottage.&nbsp; And both
+of them had affianced brides, who, when they heard this,
+dedicated their virginity to thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The part which this incident played in St. Augustine&rsquo;s
+own conversion must be told hereafter in his life.&nbsp; But the
+scene which his master-hand has drawn is not merely the drama of
+his own soul or of these two young officers, but of a whole
+empire.&nbsp; It is, as I said at first, the tragedy and suicide
+of the old empire; and the birth-agony of which he speaks was not
+that of an individual soul here or there, but of a whole new
+world, for good and evil.&nbsp; The old Roman soul was dead
+within, the body of it dead without.&nbsp; Patriotism, duty,
+purpose of life, save pleasure, money, and intrigue, had
+perished.&nbsp; The young Roman officer had nothing left for
+which to fight; the young Roman gentleman nothing left for which
+to be a citizen and an owner of lands.&nbsp; Even the old Roman
+longing (which was also a sacred duty) of leaving an heir to
+perpetuate his name, and serve the state as his fathers had
+before him&mdash;even that was gone.&nbsp; Nothing was left, with
+the many, but selfishness, which could rise at best into the
+desire of saving every man his own soul, and so transform
+worldliness into other-worldliness.&nbsp; The old empire could do
+nothing more for man; and knew that it could do nothing; and lay
+down in the hermit&rsquo;s cell to die.</p>
+<p>Tr&ecirc;ves was then &ldquo;the second metropolis of the
+empire,&rdquo; boasting, perhaps, even then, as it boasts still,
+that it was standing thirteen hundred years before Rome was
+built.&nbsp; Amid the low hills, pierced by rocky dells, and on a
+strath of richest soil, it had grown, from the mud-hut town of
+the Treviri, into a noble city of palaces, theatres, baths,
+triumphal-arches, on either side the broad and clear
+Moselle.&nbsp; The bridge which Augustus had thrown across the
+river, four hundred years before the times of hermits and of
+saints, stood like a cliff through all barbarian invasions,
+through all the battles and sieges of the Middle Age, till it was
+blown up by the French in the wars of Louis XIV., and nought
+remains save the huge piers of black lava stemming the blue
+stream; while up and down the dwindled city, the colossal
+fragments of Roman work&mdash;the Black Gate, the Heidenthurm,
+the baths, the Basilica or Hall of Justice, now a Lutheran
+church&mdash;stand out half ruined, like the fossil bones of
+giants amid the works of weaker, though of happier times; while
+the amphitheatre was till late years planted thick with vines,
+fattening in soil drenched with the blood of thousands.&nbsp;
+Tr&ecirc;ves had been the haunt of emperor after emperor, men
+wise and strong, cruel and terrible;&mdash;of Constantius,
+Constantine the Great, Julian, Valentinian, Valens; and lastly,
+when Potitianus&rsquo;s friends found those poor monks in the
+garden <a name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27"
+class="citation">[27]</a> of Gratian, the gentle hunter who
+thought day and night on sport, till his arrows were said to be
+instinct with life, was holding his military court within the
+walls of Tr&ecirc;ves, or at that hunting palace on the northern
+downs, where still on the bath-floors lie the mosaics of hare and
+deer, and boar and hound, on which the feet of Emperors trod full
+fifteen hundred years ago.</p>
+<p>Still glorious outwardly, like the Roman empire itself, was
+that great city of Tr&ecirc;ves; but inwardly it was full of
+rottenness and weakness.&nbsp; The Roman empire had been, in
+spite of all its crimes, for four hundred years the salt of the
+earth: but now the salt had lost its savour; and in one
+generation more it would be trodden under foot and cast upon the
+dunghill, and another empire would take its place,&mdash;the
+empire, not of brute strength and self-indulgence, but of
+sympathy and self-denial,&mdash;an empire, not of C&aelig;sars,
+but of hermits.&nbsp; Already was Gratian the friend and pupil of
+St. Ambrose of Milan; already, too, was he persecuting, though
+not to the death, heretics and heathens.&nbsp; Nay, some fifty
+years before (if the legend can be in the least trusted) had St.
+Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, returned from
+Palestine, bearing with her&mdash;so men believed&mdash;not only
+the miraculously discovered cross of Christ, but the seamless
+coat which he had worn; and, turning her palace into a church,
+deposited the holy coat therein: where&mdash;so some
+believe&mdash;it remains until this day.&nbsp; Men felt that a
+change was coming, but whence it would come, or how terrible it
+would be, they could not tell.&nbsp; It was to be, as the prophet
+says, &ldquo;like the bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth
+suddenly in an instant.&rdquo;&nbsp; In the very amphitheatre
+where Gratian sat that afternoon, with all the folk of
+Tr&ecirc;ves about him, watching, it may be, lions and antelopes
+from Africa slaughtered&mdash;it may be criminals tortured to
+death&mdash;another and an uglier sight had been twice seen some
+seventy years before.&nbsp; Constantine, so-called the Great, had
+there exhibited his &ldquo;Frankish sports,&rdquo; the
+&ldquo;magnificent spectacle,&rdquo; the &ldquo;famous
+punishments,&rdquo; as his flattering court-historians called
+them: thousands of Frank prisoners, many of them of noble, and
+even of royal blood, torn to pieces by wild beasts, while they
+stood fearless, smiling with folded arms; and when the wild
+beasts were gorged, and slew no more, weapons were put into the
+hands of the survivors, and they were bidden to fight to the
+death for the amusement of their Roman lords.&nbsp; But fight
+they would not against their own flesh and blood: and as for
+life, all chance of that was long gone by.&nbsp; So every man
+fell joyfully upon his brother&rsquo;s sword, and, dying like a
+German man, spoilt the sport of the good folk of
+Tr&ecirc;ves.&nbsp; And it seemed for a while as if there were no
+God in heaven who cared to avenge such deeds of blood.&nbsp; For
+the kinsmen, it may be the very sons, of those Franks were now in
+Gratian&rsquo;s pay; and the Frank Merobaudes was his
+&ldquo;Count of the Domestics,&rdquo; and one of his most
+successful and trusted generals; and all seemed to go well, and
+brute force and craft to triumph on the earth.</p>
+<p>And yet those two young staff officers, when they left the
+imperial court for the hermit&rsquo;s cell, judged, on the whole,
+prudently and well, and chose the better part when they fled from
+the world to escape the &ldquo;dangers&rdquo; of ambition, and
+the &ldquo;greater danger still&rdquo; of success.&nbsp; For they
+escaped, not merely from vice and worldliness, but, as the event
+proved, from imminent danger of death if they kept the loyalty
+which they had sworn to their emperor; or the worse evil of
+baseness if they turned traitors to him to save their lives.</p>
+<p>For little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre,
+that the day was coming when he, the hunter of game&mdash;and of
+heretics&mdash;would be hunted in his turn; when, deserted by his
+army, betrayed by Merobaudes&mdash;whose elder kinsfolk were not
+likely to have kept him ignorant of &ldquo;the Frankish
+sports&rdquo;&mdash;he should flee pitiably towards Italy, and
+die by a German hand; some say near Lyons, some say near
+Belgrade, calling on Ambrose with his latest breath. <a
+name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29"
+class="citation">[29]</a>&nbsp; Little thought, too, the good
+folk of Tr&ecirc;ves, as they sat beneath the vast awning that
+afternoon, that within the next half century a day of vengeance
+was coming for them, which should teach them that there was a God
+who &ldquo;maketh inquisition for blood;&rdquo; a day when
+Tr&ecirc;ves should be sacked in blood and flame by those very
+&ldquo;barbarian&rdquo; Germans whom they fancied their
+allies&mdash;or their slaves.&nbsp; And least of all did they
+fancy that, when that great destruction fell upon their city, the
+only element in it which would pass safely through the fire and
+rise again, and raise their city to new glory and power, was that
+which was represented by those poor hermits in the garden-hut
+outside.&nbsp; Little thought they that above the awful arches of
+the Black Gate&mdash;as if in mockery of the Roman Power&mdash;a
+lean anchorite would take his stand, Simeon of Syracuse by name,
+a monk of Mount Sinai, and there imitate, in the far West, the
+austerities of St. Simeon Stylites in the East, and be enrolled
+in the new Pantheon, not of C&aelig;sars, but of Saints.</p>
+<p>Under the supposed patronage of those Saints, Tr&ecirc;ves
+rose again out of its ruins.&nbsp; It gained its four great
+abbeys of St. Maximus (on the site of Constantine&rsquo;s
+palace); St. Matthias, in the crypt whereof the bodies of the
+monks never decay; <a name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30"
+class="citation">[30]</a> St. Martin; and St. Mary of the Four
+Martyrs, where four soldiers of the famous Theban legion are said
+to have suffered martyrdom by the house of the Roman
+prefect.&nbsp; It had its cathedral of St. Peter and St. Helena,
+supposed to be built out of St. Helena&rsquo;s palace; its
+exquisite Liebfrauenkirche; its palace of the old Archbishops,
+mighty potentates of this world, as well as of the kingdom of
+heaven.&nbsp; For they were princes, arch-chancellors, electors
+of the empire, owning many a league of fertile land, governing,
+and that kindly and justly, towns and villages of Christian men,
+and now and then going out to war, at the head of their own
+knights and yeomen, in defence of their lands, and of the saints
+whose servants and trustees they were; and so became, according
+to their light and their means, the salt of that land for many
+generations.</p>
+<p>And after a while that salt, too, lost its savour, and was, in
+its turn, trodden under foot.&nbsp; The French republican wars
+swept away the ecclesiastical constitution and the wealth of the
+ancient city.&nbsp; The cathedral and churches were stripped of
+relics, of jewels, of treasures of early art.&nbsp; The
+Prince-bishop&rsquo;s palace is a barrack; so was lately St.
+Maximus&rsquo;s shrine; St. Martin&rsquo;s a china manufactory,
+and St. Matthias&rsquo;s a school.&nbsp; Tr&ecirc;ves belongs to
+Prussia, and not to &ldquo;Holy Church;&rdquo; and all the old
+splendours of the &ldquo;empire of the saints&rdquo; are almost
+as much ruinate as those of the &ldquo;empire of the
+Romans.&rdquo;&nbsp; So goes the world, because there is a living
+God.</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;The old order changeth, giving place to the
+new;<br />
+And God fulfils himself in many ways,<br />
+Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>But though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens
+outside still bloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered
+through them, perpetual as Nature&rsquo;s self; and perpetual as
+Nature, too, endures whatever is good and true of that
+afternoon&rsquo;s work, and of that finding of the legend of St.
+Antony in the monk&rsquo;s cabin, which fixed the destiny of the
+great genius of the Latin Church.</p>
+<p>The story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, <a
+name="citation32"></a><a href="#footnote32"
+class="citation">[32]</a> runs thus:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>The life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written
+and sent to the monks in foreign parts by our Father among the
+saints, Athanasius, Archbishop of Alexandria.</p>
+<p>You have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having
+determined either to equal or even to surpass them in your
+training towards virtue; for there are monasteries already among
+you, and the monastic life is practised.&nbsp; This purpose of
+yours one may justly praise; and if you pray, God will bring it
+to perfection.&nbsp; But since you have also asked me about the
+conversation of the holy Antony, wishing to learn how he began
+his training, and who he was before it, and what sort of an end
+he made to his life, and whether what is said of him is true, in
+order that you may bring yourselves to emulate him, with great
+readiness I received your command.&nbsp; For to me, too, it is a
+great gain and benefit only to remember Antony; and I know that
+you, when you hear of him, after you have wondered at the man,
+will wish also to emulate his purpose.&nbsp; For the life of
+Antony is for monks a perfect pattern of ascetic training.&nbsp;
+What, then, you have heard about him from other informants do not
+disbelieve, but rather think that you have heard from them a
+small part of the facts.&nbsp; For in any case, they could hardly
+relate fully such great matters, when even I, at your request,
+howsoever much I may tell you in my letter, can only send you a
+little which I remember about him.&nbsp; But do not cease to
+inquire of those who sail from hence; for perhaps, if each tells
+what he knows, at last his history may be worthily
+compiled.&nbsp; I had wished, indeed, when I received your
+letter, to send for some of the monks who were wont to be most
+frequently in his company, that I might learn something more, and
+send you a fuller account.&nbsp; But since both the season of
+navigation limited me, and the letter-carrier was in haste, I
+hastened to write to your piety what I myself know (for I have
+often seen him), and what I was able to learn from one who
+followed him for no short time, and poured water upon his hands;
+always taking care of the truth, in order that no one when he
+hears too much may disbelieve, nor again, if he learns less than
+is needful, despise the man.</p>
+<p>Antony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, <a
+name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33"
+class="citation">[33]</a> who had a sufficient property of their
+own: and as they were Christians, he too was Christianly brought
+up, and when a boy was nourished in the house of his parents,
+besides whom and his home he knew nought.&nbsp; But when he grew
+older, he would not be taught letters, <a
+name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34"
+class="citation">[34]</a> not wishing to mix with other boys; but
+all his longing was (according to what is written of Jacob) to
+dwell simply in his own house.&nbsp; But when his parents took
+him into the Lord&rsquo;s house, he was not saucy, like a boy,
+nor inattentive as he grew older; but was subject to his parents,
+and attentive to what was read, turning it to his own
+account.&nbsp; Nor again (as a boy who was moderately well off)
+did he trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties,
+nor did he run after the pleasures of this life; but was content
+with what he found, and asked for nothing more.&nbsp; When his
+parents died, he was left alone with a little sister, when he was
+about eighteen or twenty years of age, and took care both of his
+house and of her.&nbsp; But not six months after their death, as
+he was going as usual to the Lord&rsquo;s house, and collecting
+his thoughts, he meditated as he walked how the Apostles had left
+all and followed the Saviour; and how those in the Acts brought
+the price of what they had sold, and laid it at the
+Apostles&rsquo; feet, to be given away to the poor; and what and
+how great a hope was laid up for them in heaven.&nbsp; With this
+in his mind, he entered the church.&nbsp; And it befell then that
+the Gospel was being read; and he heard how the Lord had said to
+the rich man, &ldquo;If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou
+hast, and give to the poor; and come, follow me, and thou shalt
+have treasure in heaven.&rdquo;&nbsp; Antony, therefore, as if
+the remembrance of the saints had come to him from God, and as if
+the lesson had <a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+35</span>been read on his account, went forth at once from the
+Lord&rsquo;s house, and gave away to those of his own village the
+possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three hundred
+plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that they might give no
+trouble either to him or his sister.&nbsp; All his moveables he
+sold, and a considerable sum which he received for them he gave
+to the poor.&nbsp; But having kept back a little for his sister,
+when he went again into the Lord&rsquo;s house he heard the Lord
+saying in the Gospel, &ldquo;Take no thought for the
+morrow,&rdquo; and, unable to endure any more delay, he went out
+and distributed that too to the needy.&nbsp; And having committed
+his sister to known and faithful virgins, and given to her
+wherewith to be educated in a nunnery, he himself thenceforth
+devoted himself, outside his house, to training; <a
+name="citation35"></a><a href="#footnote35"
+class="citation">[35]</a> taking heed to himself, and using
+himself severely.&nbsp; For monasteries were not then common in
+Egypt, nor did any monks at all know the wide desert; but each
+who wished to take heed to himself exercised himself alone, not
+far from his own village.&nbsp; There was then in the next
+village an old man, who had trained himself in a solitary life
+from his youth.&nbsp; When Antony saw him, he emulated him in
+that which is noble.&nbsp; And first he began to stay outside the
+village; and then, if he heard of any earnest man, he went to
+seek him, like a wise bee; and did not return till he had seen
+him, and having got from him (as it were) provision for his
+journey toward virtue, went his way.&nbsp; So dwelling there at
+first, he settled his mind neither to look back towards his
+parents&rsquo; wealth nor to recollect his relations; but he put
+all his longing and all his earnestness on training himself more
+intensely.&nbsp; For the rest he worked with his hands, because
+he had heard, &ldquo;If any man will not work, neither let him
+eat;&rdquo; and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some
+on the needy.&nbsp; He prayed continually, because he knew that
+one ought to pray secretly, without ceasing.&nbsp; He attended,
+also, so much to what was read, that, with him, none of the
+Scriptures fell to the ground, but he retained them all, and for
+the future his memory served him instead of books.&nbsp; Behaving
+thus, Antony was beloved by all; and submitted truly to the
+earnest men to whom he used to go.&nbsp; And from each of them he
+learnt some improvement in his earnestness and his training: he
+contemplated the courtesy of one, and another&rsquo;s assiduity
+in prayer; another&rsquo;s freedom from anger; another&rsquo;s
+love of mankind: he took heed to one as he watched; to another as
+he studied: one he admired for his endurance, another for his
+fasting and sleeping on the ground; he laid to heart the meekness
+of one, and the long-suffering of another; and stamped upon his
+memory the devotion to Christ and the mutual love which all in
+common possessed.&nbsp; And thus filled full, he returned to his
+own place of training, gathering to himself what he had got from
+each, and striving to show all their qualities in himself.&nbsp;
+He never emulated those of his own age, save in what is best; and
+did that so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice over
+him.&nbsp; And all in the village who loved good, seeing him
+thus, called him the friend of God; and some embraced him as a
+son, some as a brother.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p35b.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Life of St. Anthony"
+title=
+"Life of St. Anthony"
+src="images/p35s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not
+endure such a purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all
+that he is wont to do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his
+wealth, care for his sister, relation to his kindred, love of
+money, love of glory, the various pleasures of luxury, and the
+other solaces of life; and then the harshness of virtue, and its
+great toil; and the weakness of his body, and the length of time;
+and altogether raised a great dust-cloud of arguments in his
+mind, trying to turn him back from his righteous choice.&nbsp;
+But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony&rsquo;s
+determination, but rather baffled by his stoutness, and
+overthrown by his great faith, and falling before his continual
+prayers, then he attacked him with the temptations which he is
+wont to use against young men; . . . . but he protected his body
+with faith, prayers, and fastings, . . . setting his thoughts on
+Christ, and on his own nobility through Christ, and on the
+rational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on the terrors of
+the fire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus escaped
+unhurt.&nbsp; And thus was the enemy brought to shame.&nbsp; For
+he who thought himself to be equal with God was now mocked by a
+youth; and he who boasted against flesh and blood was defeated by
+a man clothed in flesh.&nbsp; For the Lord worked with him, who
+bore flesh on our account, and gave to the body victory over the
+devil, that each man in his battle may say, &ldquo;Not I, but the
+grace of God which is with me.&rdquo;&nbsp; At last, when the
+dragon could not overthrow Antony even thus, but saw himself
+thrust out of his heart, then gnashing his teeth (as is written),
+and as if beside himself, he appeared to the sight, as he is to
+the reason, as a black child, and as it were falling down before
+him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver was cast
+out), but using a human voice, said, &ldquo;I have deceived many;
+I have cast down many.&nbsp; But now, as in the case of many, so
+in thine, I have been worsted in the battle.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then
+when Antony asked him, &ldquo;Who art thou who speakest thus to
+me?&rdquo; he forthwith replied in a pitiable voice, &ldquo;I am
+the spirit of impurity.&rdquo;. . .</p>
+<p>Then Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said,
+&ldquo;Thou art utterly despicable; for thou art black of soul,
+and weak as a child; nor shall I henceforth cast one thought on
+thee.&nbsp; For the Lord is my helper, and I shall despise my
+enemies.&rdquo;&nbsp; That black being, hearing this, fled
+forthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid thenceforth of
+coming near the man.</p>
+<p>This was Antony&rsquo;s first struggle against the devil: or
+rather this mighty deed in him was the Saviour&rsquo;s, who
+condemned sin in the flesh that the righteousness of the Lord
+should be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but
+after the Spirit.&nbsp; But neither did Antony, because the
+d&aelig;mon had fallen, grow careless and despise him; neither
+did the enemy, when worsted by him, cease from lying in ambush
+against him.&nbsp; For he came round again as a lion, seeking a
+pretence against him.&nbsp; But Antony had learnt from Scripture
+that many are the devices of the enemy; and continually kept up
+his training, considering that, though he had not deceived his
+heart by pleasure, he would try some other snares.&nbsp; For the
+d&aelig;mon delights in sin.&nbsp; Therefore he chastised his
+body more and more, and brought it into slavery, lest, having
+conquered in one case, he should be tripped up in others.&nbsp;
+He determined, therefore, to accustom himself to a still more
+severe life; and many wondered at him: but the labour was to him
+easy to bear.&nbsp; For the readiness of the spirit, through long
+usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking a very
+slight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.&nbsp;
+For he watched so much, that he often passed the whole night
+without sleep; and that not once, but often, to the astonishment
+of men.&nbsp; He ate once a day, after the setting of the sun,
+and sometimes only once in two days, often even in four; his food
+was bread with salt, his drink nothing but water.&nbsp; To speak
+of flesh and wine there is no need, for such a thing is not found
+among other earnest men.&nbsp; When he slept he was content with
+a rush-mat: but mostly he lay on the bare ground.&nbsp; He would
+not anoint himself with oil, saying that it was more fit for
+young men to be earnest in training, than to seek things which
+softened the body; and that they must accustom themselves to
+labour, according to the Apostle&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;When I am
+weak, then I am strong;&rdquo; for that the mind was strengthened
+as bodily pleasure was weakened.&nbsp; And this argument of his
+was truly wonderful.&nbsp; For he did not measure the path of
+virtue, nor his going away into retirement on account of it, by
+time; but by his own desire and will.&nbsp; So forgetting the
+past, he daily, as if beginning afresh, took more pains to
+improve, saying over to himself continually the Apostle&rsquo;s
+words, &ldquo;Forgetting what is behind, stretching forward to
+what is before;&rdquo; and mindful, too, of Elias&rsquo; speech,
+&ldquo;The Lord liveth, before whom I stand this
+day.&rdquo;&nbsp; For he held, that by mentioning to-day, he took
+no account of past time: but, as if he were laying down a
+beginning, he tried earnestly to make himself day by day fit to
+appear before God, pure in heart, and ready to obey his will, and
+no other.&nbsp; And he said in himself that the ascetic ought for
+ever to be learning his own life from the manners of the great
+Elias, as from a mirror.&nbsp; Antony, having thus, as it were,
+bound himself, went to the tombs, which happened to be some way
+from the village; and having bidden one of his acquaintances to
+bring him bread at intervals of many days, he entered one of the
+tombs, and, shutting the door upon himself, remained there
+alone.&nbsp; But the enemy, not enduring that, but rather
+terrified lest in a little while he should fill the desert with
+his training, coming one night with a multitude of d&aelig;mons,
+beat him so much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the
+torture.&nbsp; For he asserted that the pain was so great that no
+blows given by men could cause such agony.&nbsp; But by the
+providence of God (for the Lord does not overlook those who hope
+in him), the next day his acquaintance came, bringing him the
+loaves.&nbsp; And having opened the door, and seeing him lying on
+the ground for dead, he carried him to the Lord&rsquo;s house in
+the village, and laid him on the ground; and many of his kinsfolk
+and the villagers sat round him, as round a corpse.&nbsp; But
+about midnight, Antony coming to himself, and waking up, saw them
+all sleeping, and only his acquaintance awake, and, nodding to
+him to approach, begged him to carry him back to the tombs,
+without waking any one.&nbsp; When that was done, the doors were
+shut, and he remained as before, alone inside.&nbsp; And, because
+he could not stand on account of the d&aelig;mons&rsquo; blows,
+he prayed prostrate.&nbsp; And after his prayer, he said with a
+shout, &ldquo;Here am I, Antony: I do not fly from your stripes;
+yea, if you do yet more, nothing shall separate me from the love
+of Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp; And then he sang, &ldquo;If an host be
+laid against me, yet shall not my heart be afraid.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Thus thought and spoke the man who was training himself.&nbsp;
+But the enemy, hater of what is noble, and envious, wondering
+that he dared to return after the stripes, called together his
+dogs, and bursting with rage,&mdash;&ldquo;Ye see,&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;that we have not stopped this man by the spirit of
+impurity; nor by blows: but he is even growing bolder against
+us.&nbsp; Let us attack him some other way.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41"
+class="citation">[41]</a>&nbsp; For it is easy for the devil to
+invent schemes of mischief.&nbsp; So then in the night they made
+such a crash, that the whole place seemed shaken, and the
+d&aelig;mons, as if breaking in the four walls of the room,
+seemed to enter through them, changing themselves into the shapes
+of beasts and creeping things; <a name="citation42"></a><a
+href="#footnote42" class="citation">[42]</a> and the place was
+forthwith filled with shapes of lions, bears, leopards, bulls,
+and snakes, asps, scorpions, and wolves, and each of them moved
+according to his own fashion.&nbsp; The lion roared, longing to
+attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent did not cease
+creeping, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether the noises
+of all the apparitions were dreadful, and their tempers
+cruel.&nbsp; But Antony, scourged and pierced by them, felt a
+more dreadful bodily pain than before: but he lay unshaken and
+awake in spirit.&nbsp; He groaned at the pain of his body: but
+clear in intellect, and as it were mocking, he said, &ldquo;If
+there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you
+should come on; but since the Lord has made you weak, therefore
+you try to frighten me by mere numbers.&nbsp; And a proof of your
+weakness is, that you imitate the shapes of brute
+animals.&rdquo;&nbsp; And taking courage, he said again,
+&ldquo;If ye can, and have received power against me, delay not,
+but attack; but if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain?&nbsp;
+For a seal to us and a wall of safety is our faith in the
+Lord.&rdquo;&nbsp; The d&aelig;mons, having made many efforts,
+gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked at them,
+than they at him.&nbsp; But neither then did the Lord forget
+Antony&rsquo;s wrestling, but appeared to help him.&nbsp; For,
+looking up, he saw the roof as it were opened and a ray of light
+coming down towards him.&nbsp; The d&aelig;mons suddenly became
+invisible, and the pain of his body forthwith ceased, and the
+building became quite whole.&nbsp; But Antony, feeling the
+succour, and getting his breath again, and freed from pain,
+questioned the vision which appeared, saying, &ldquo;Where wert
+thou?&nbsp; Why didst thou not appear to me from the first, to
+stop my pangs?&rdquo;&nbsp; And a voice came to him,
+&ldquo;Antony, I was here, but I waited to see thy fight.&nbsp;
+Therefore, since thou hast withstood, and not been worsted, I
+will be to thee always a succour, and will make thee become
+famous everywhere.&rdquo;&nbsp; Hearing this, he rose and prayed,
+and was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his
+body than he had before.&nbsp; He was then about thirty-and-five
+years old.&nbsp; And on the morrow he went out, and was yet more
+eager for devotion to God; and, going to that old man aforesaid,
+he asked him to dwell with him in the desert.&nbsp; But when he
+declined, because of his age, and because no such custom had yet
+arisen, he himself straightway set off to the mountain.&nbsp; But
+the enemy again, seeing his earnestness, and wishing to hinder
+it, cast in his way the phantom of a great silver plate.&nbsp;
+But Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates what is noble,
+stopped.&nbsp; And he judged the plate worthless, seeing the
+devil in it; and said, &ldquo;Whence comes a plate in the
+desert?&nbsp; This is no beaten way, nor is there here the
+footstep of any traveller.&nbsp; Had it fallen, it could not have
+been unperceived, from its great size; and besides, he who lost
+it would have turned back and found it, because the place is
+desert.&nbsp; This is a trick of the devil.&nbsp; Thou shalt not
+hinder, devil, my determination by this: let it go with thee into
+perdition.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as Antony said that, it vanished, as
+smoke from before the face of the fire.&nbsp; Then again he saw,
+not this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he
+came up.&nbsp; But whether the enemy showed it him, or whether
+some better power, which was trying the athlete, and showing the
+devil that he did not care for real wealth; neither did he tell,
+nor do we know, save that it was real gold.&nbsp; Antony,
+wondering at the abundance of it, so stepped over it as over
+fire, and so passed it by, that he never turned, but ran on in
+haste, until he had lost sight of the place.&nbsp; And growing
+even more and more intense in his determination, he rushed up the
+mountain, and finding an empty inclosure full of creeping things
+on account of its age, he betook himself across the river, and
+dwelt in it.&nbsp; The creeping things, as if pursued by some
+one, straightway left the place: but he blocked up the entry,
+having taken with him loaves for six months (for the Thebans do
+this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and having water
+with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that monastery, <a
+name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44"
+class="citation">[44]</a> he remained alone, never going forth,
+and never looking at any one who came.&nbsp; Thus he passed a
+long time there training himself, and only twice a year received
+loaves, let down from above through the roof.&nbsp; But those of
+his acquaintance who came to him, as they often remained days and
+nights outside (for he did not allow any one to enter), used to
+hear as it were crowds inside clamouring, thundering, lamenting,
+crying&mdash;&ldquo;Depart from our ground.&nbsp; What dost thou
+even in the desert?&nbsp; Thou canst not abide our
+onset.&rdquo;&nbsp; At first those without thought that there
+were some men fighting with him, and that they had got in by
+ladders: but when, peeping in through a crack, they saw no one,
+then they took for granted that they were d&aelig;mons, and being
+terrified, called themselves on Antony.&nbsp; But he rather
+listened to them than cared for the others.&nbsp; For his
+acquaintances came up continually, expecting to find him dead,
+and heard him singing, &ldquo;Let the Lord arise, and his enemies
+shall be scattered; and let them who hate him flee before
+him.&nbsp; As wax melts from before the face of the fire, so
+shall sinners perish from before the face of God.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And again, &ldquo;All nations compassed me round about, and in
+the name of the Lord I repelled them.&rdquo;&nbsp; He endured
+then for twenty years, thus training himself alone; neither going
+forth, nor seen by any one for long periods of time.&nbsp; But
+after this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his
+training, and others who knew him came, and were bursting in the
+door by force, Antony came forth as from some inner shrine,
+initiated into the mysteries, and bearing the God. <a
+name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45"
+class="citation">[45]</a>&nbsp; And then first he appeared out of
+the inclosure to those who were coming to him.&nbsp; And when
+they saw him they wondered; for his body had kept the same habit,
+and had neither grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by
+fighting with the d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; For he was just such as
+they had known him before his retirement.&nbsp; They wondered
+again at the purity of his soul, because it was neither
+contracted as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor possessed
+by laughter or by depression; for he was neither troubled at
+beholding the crowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted by too
+many; but was altogether equal, as being governed by reason, and
+standing on that which is according to nature.&nbsp; Many
+sufferers in body who were present did the Lord heal by him; and
+others he purged from d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; And he gave to Antony
+grace in speaking, so that he comforted many who grieved, and
+reconciled others who were at variance, exhorting all to prefer
+nothing in the world to the love of Christ, and persuading and
+exhorting them to be mindful of the good things to come, and of
+the love of God towards us, who spared not his own son, but
+delivered him up for us all.&nbsp; He persuaded many to choose
+the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells sprang up in the
+mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who went forth
+from their own, and registered themselves in the city which is in
+heaven.</p>
+<p>And when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the
+need was the superintendence of the brethren), the canal was full
+of crocodiles.&nbsp; And having only prayed, he entered it; and
+both he and all who were with him went through it unharmed.&nbsp;
+But when he returned to the cell, he persisted in the noble
+labours of his youth; and by continued exhortations he increased
+the willingness of those who were already monks, and stirred to
+love of training the greater number of the rest; and quickly, as
+his speech drew men on, the cells became more numerous; and he
+governed them all as a father.&nbsp; And when he had gone forth
+one day, and all the monks had come to him desiring to hear some
+word from him, he spake to them in the Egyptian tongue,
+thus&mdash;&ldquo;That the Scriptures were sufficient for
+instruction, but that it was good for us to exhort each other in
+the faith.&rdquo; . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being
+the earliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science
+d&aelig;monology and the temptation of d&aelig;mons: but its
+involved and rhetorical form proves sufficiently that it could
+not have been delivered by an unlettered man like Antony.&nbsp;
+Neither is it, probably, even composed by St. Athanasius; it
+seems rather, like several other passages in this biography, the
+interpolation of some later scribe.&nbsp; It has been, therefore,
+omitted.]</p>
+<p>And when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the
+love of virtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up,
+and in others conceit stopped, while all were persuaded to
+despise the plots of the devil, wondering at the grace which had
+been given to Antony by the Lord for the discernment of
+spirits.&nbsp; So the cells in the mountains were like tents
+filled with divine choirs, singing, discoursing, fasting,
+praying, rejoicing over the hope of the future, working that they
+might give alms thereof, and having love and concord with each
+other.&nbsp; And there was really to be seen, as it were, a land
+by itself, of piety and justice; for there was none there who did
+wrong, or suffered wrong: no blame from any talebearer: but a
+multitude of men training themselves, and in all of them a mind
+set on virtue.&nbsp; So that any one seeing the cells, and such
+an array of monks, would have cried out, and said, &ldquo;How
+fair are thy dwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel; like
+shady groves and like parks beside a river, and like tents which
+the Lord hath pitched, and like cedars by the
+waters.&rdquo;&nbsp; He himself, meanwhile, withdrawing,
+according to his custom, alone to his own cell, increased the
+severity of his training.&nbsp; And he groaned daily, considering
+the mansions in heaven, and setting his longing on them, and
+looking at the ephemeral life of man.&nbsp; For even when he was
+going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he considered the
+rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was about to
+eat with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and
+declined, and went far away from them; thinking that he should
+blush if he was seen by others eating.&nbsp; He ate,
+nevertheless, by himself, on account of the necessities of the
+body; and often, too, with the brethren, being bashful with
+regard to them, but plucking up heart for the sake of saying
+something that might be useful; and used to tell them that they
+ought to give all their leisure rather to the soul than to the
+body; and that they should grant a very little time to the body,
+for mere necessity&rsquo;s sake: but that their whole leisure
+should be rather given to the soul, and should seek her profit,
+that she may not be drawn down by the pleasures of the body, but
+rather the body be led captive by her.&nbsp; For this (he said)
+was what was spoken by the Saviour, &ldquo;Be not anxious for
+your soul, what ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall
+put on.&nbsp; And seek not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall
+drink, neither let your minds be in suspense: for after all these
+things the nations of the world seek: but your Father knoweth
+that ye need all these things.&nbsp; Rather seek first his
+kingdom; and all these things shall be added unto you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After these things, the persecution which happened under the
+Maximinus of that time, <a name="citation49"></a><a
+href="#footnote49" class="citation">[49]</a> laid hold of the
+Church; and when the holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria,
+Antony too followed, leaving his cell, and saying, &ldquo;Let us
+depart too, that we may wrestle if we be called, or see them
+wrestling.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he longed to be a martyr himself,
+but, not choosing to give himself up, he ministered to the
+confessors in the mines, and in the prisons.&nbsp; And he was
+very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the readiness of
+those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and bring
+on their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to
+martyrdom.&nbsp; At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and
+earnestness of him and those who were with him, commanded that
+none of the monks should appear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at
+all in the city.&nbsp; So all the rest thought good to hide
+themselves that day; but Antony cared so much for the order, that
+he all the rather washed his cloak, and stood next day upon a
+high place, and appeared to the General in shining white.&nbsp;
+Therefore, when all the rest wondered, and the General saw him,
+and passed by with his array, he stood fearless, showing forth
+the readiness of us Christians.&nbsp; For he himself prayed to be
+a martyr, as I have said, and was like one grieved, because he
+had not borne his witness.&nbsp; But the Lord was preserving him
+for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he might become a
+teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from
+Scripture.&nbsp; For many, when they only saw his manner of life,
+were eager to emulate it.&nbsp; So he again ministered
+continually to the confessors; and, as if bound with them,
+wearied himself in his services.&nbsp; And when at last the
+persecution ceased, and the blessed Bishop Peter had been
+martyred, he left the city, and went back to his cell.&nbsp; And
+he was there, day by day, a martyr in his conscience, and
+wrestling in the conflict of faith; for he imposed on himself a
+much more severe training than before; and his garment was within
+of hair, without of skin, which he kept till his end.&nbsp; He
+neither washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his feet,
+nor actually endured putting them into water unless it were
+necessary.&nbsp; And no one ever saw him unclothed till he was
+dead and about to be buried.</p>
+<p>When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth
+himself, nor to receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of
+soldiers, came and gave trouble to Antony.&nbsp; For he had with
+him his daughter, who was tormented by a d&aelig;mon.&nbsp; And
+while he remained a long time knocking at the door, and expecting
+him to come to pray to God for the child, Antony could not bear
+to open, but leaning from above, said, &ldquo;Man, why criest
+thou to me?&nbsp; I, too, am a man, as thou art.&nbsp; But if
+thou believest, pray to God, and it comes to pass.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ; and went
+away, with his daughter cleansed from the d&aelig;mon.&nbsp; And
+many other things the Lord did by him, saying, &ldquo;Ask, and it
+shall be given you.&rdquo;&nbsp; For most of the sufferers, when
+he did not open the door, only sat down outside the cell, and
+believing, and praying honestly, were cleansed.&nbsp; But when he
+saw himself troubled by many, and not being permitted to retire,
+as he wished, being afraid lest he himself should be puffed up by
+what the Lord was doing by him, or lest others should count of
+him above what he was, he resolved to go to the Upper Thebaid, to
+those who knew him not.&nbsp; And, in fact, having taken loaves
+from the brethren, he sat down on the bank of the river, watching
+for a boat to pass, that he might embark and go up in it.&nbsp;
+And as he watched, a voice came to him: &ldquo;Antony, whither
+art thou going, and why?&rdquo;&nbsp; And he, not terrified, but
+as one accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard
+it, <a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+52</span>&ldquo;Because the crowds will not let me be at rest;
+therefore am I minded to go up to the Upper Thebaid, on account
+of the many annoyances which befall me; and, above all, because
+they ask of me things beyond my strength.&rdquo;&nbsp; And the
+voice said to him, &ldquo;Even if thou goest up to the Thebaid,
+even if, as thou art minded to do, thou goest down the cattle
+pastures, <a name="citation52a"></a><a href="#footnote52a"
+class="citation">[52a]</a> thou wilt have to endure more, and
+double trouble; but if thou wilt really be at rest, go now into
+the inner desert.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when Antony said, &ldquo;Who
+will show me the way, for I have not tried it?&rdquo; forthwith
+it showed him Saracens who were going to journey that road.&nbsp;
+So, going to them, and drawing near them, Antony asked leave to
+depart with them into the desert.&nbsp; But they, as if by an
+ordinance of Providence, willingly received him; and, journeying
+three days and three nights with them, he came to a very high
+mountain; <a name="citation52b"></a><a href="#footnote52b"
+class="citation">[52b]</a> and there was water under the
+mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold; and a plain outside; and a
+few neglected date-palms.&nbsp; Then Antony, as if stirred by
+God, loved the spot; for this it was what he had pointed out who
+spoke to him beside the river bank.&nbsp; At first, then, having
+received bread from those who journeyed with him, he remained
+alone in the mount, no one else being with him.&nbsp; For he
+recognised that place as his own home, and kept it
+thenceforth.&nbsp; And the Saracens themselves, seeing
+Antony&rsquo;s readiness, came that way on purpose, and joyfully
+brought him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of the dates,
+which was then little and paltry.&nbsp; But after this, the
+brethren, having found out the spot, like children remembering
+their father, were anxious to send things to him; but Antony saw
+that, in bringing him bread, some there were put to trouble and
+fatigue; and, sparing the monks even in that, took counsel with
+himself, and asked some who came to him to bring him a hoe and a
+hatchet, and a little corn; and when these were brought, having
+gone over the land round the mountain, he found a very narrow
+place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having plenty of
+water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by year, he
+got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be
+troublesome to no one on that account, and that he was keeping
+himself free from obligation in all things.&nbsp; But after this,
+seeing again some people coming, he planted also a very few
+pot-herbs, that he who came might have some small solace after
+the labour of that hard journey.&nbsp; At first, however, the
+wild beasts in the desert, coming on account of the water, often
+hurt his crops and his tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one
+of them, said to them all, &ldquo;Why do you hurt me, who have
+not hurt you?&nbsp; Depart, and, in the name of the Lord, never
+come near this place.&rdquo;&nbsp; And from that time forward, as
+if they were afraid of his command, they never came near the
+place.&nbsp; So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having
+leisure for prayer and for training.&nbsp; But the brethren who
+ministered to him asked him that, coming every month, they might
+bring him olives, and pulse, and oil; for, after all, he was
+old.&nbsp; And while he had his conversation there, what great
+wrestlings he endured, according to that which is written,
+&ldquo;Not against flesh and blood, but against the d&aelig;mons
+who are our adversaries,&rdquo; we have known from those who went
+in to him.&nbsp; For there also they heard tumults, and many
+voices, and clashing as of arms; and they beheld the mount by
+night full of wild beasts, and they looked on him, too, fighting,
+as it were, with beings whom he saw, and praying against
+them.&nbsp; And those who came to him he bade be of good courage,
+but he himself wrestled, bending his knees, and praying to the
+Lord.&nbsp; And it was truly worthy of wonder that, alone in such
+a desert, he was neither cowed by the d&aelig;mons who beset him,
+nor, while there were there so many four-footed and creeping
+beasts, was at all afraid of their fierceness: but, as is
+written, trusted in the Lord like the Mount Zion, having his
+reason unshaken and untost; so that the d&aelig;mons rather fled,
+and the wild beasts, as is written, were at peace with him.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and
+gnashed upon him with his teeth.&nbsp; But Antony was comforted
+by the Saviour, remaining unhurt by his craft and manifold
+artifices.&nbsp; For on him, when he was awake at night, he let
+loose wild beasts; and almost all the hy&aelig;nas in that
+desert, coming out of their burrows, beset him round, and he was
+in the midst.&nbsp; And when each gaped on him and threatened to
+bite him, perceiving the art of the enemy, he said to them all,
+&ldquo;If ye have received power against me, I am ready to be
+devoured by you: but if ye have been set on by d&aelig;mons,
+delay not, but withdraw, for I am a servant of
+Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp; When Antony said this, they fled, pursued by
+his words as by a whip.&nbsp; Next after a few days, as he was
+working&mdash;for he took care, too, to labour&mdash;some one
+standing at the door pulled the plait that he was working.&nbsp;
+For he was weaving baskets, which he used to give to those who
+came, in return for what they brought him.&nbsp; And rising up,
+he saw a beast, like a man down to his thighs, but having legs
+and feet like an ass; and Antony only crossed himself and said,
+&ldquo;I am a servant of Christ.&nbsp; If thou hast been sent
+against me, behold, here I am.&rdquo;&nbsp; And the beast with
+its d&aelig;mons fled away, so that in its haste it fell and
+died.&nbsp; Now the death of the beast was the fall of the
+d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; For they were eager to do everything to bring
+him back out of the desert, but could not prevail.</p>
+<p>And being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to
+visit awhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks
+who came to meet him.&nbsp; And a camel carried their loaves and
+their water; for that desert is all dry, and there is no
+drinkable water unless in that mountain alone whence they drew
+their water, and where his cell is.&nbsp; But when the water
+failed on the journey, and the heat was most intense, they all
+began to be in danger; for going round to various places, and
+finding no water, they could walk no more, but lay down on the
+ground, and they let the camel go, and gave themselves up.&nbsp;
+But the old man, seeing them all in danger, was utterly grieved,
+and groaned; and departing a little way from them, and bending
+his knees and stretching out his hands, he prayed, and forthwith
+the Lord caused water to come out where he had stopped and
+prayed.&nbsp; And thus all of them drinking took breath again;
+and having filled their skins, they sought the camel, and found
+her; for it befell that the halter had been twisted round a
+stone, and thus she had been stopped.&nbsp; So, having brought
+her back, and given her to drink, they put the skins on her, and
+went through their journey unharmed.&nbsp; And when they came to
+the outer cells all embraced him, looking on him as a
+father.&nbsp; And he, as if he brought them guest-gifts from the
+mountain, gave them away to them in his words, and shared his
+benefits among them.&nbsp; And there was joy again in the
+mountains, and zeal for improvement, and comfort through their
+faith in each other.&nbsp; And he too rejoiced, seeing the
+willingness of the monks, and his sister grown old in maidenhood,
+and herself the leader of other virgins.&nbsp; And so after
+certain days he went back again to the mountain.</p>
+<p>And after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared
+also to come.&nbsp; Now to all the monks who came to him he gave
+continually this command: To trust in the Lord and love him, and
+to keep themselves from foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and,
+as is written in the Parables, not to be deceived by fulness of
+bread; and to avoid vainglory; and to pray continually; and to
+sing before sleep and after sleep; and to lay by in their hearts
+the commandment of Scripture; and to remember the works of the
+saints, in order to have their souls attuned to emulate
+them.&nbsp; But especially he counselled them to meditate
+continually on the Apostle&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;Let not the sun
+go down upon your wrath;&rdquo; and this he said was spoken of
+all commandments in common, in order that not on wrath alone, but
+on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it was
+noble and necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a
+baseness by day, nor the moon for a sin or even a thought by
+night; therefore, in order that that which is noble may be
+preserved in us, it was good to hear and to keep what the Apostle
+commanded: for he said: &ldquo;Judge yourselves, and prove
+yourselves.&rdquo;&nbsp; Let each then take account with himself,
+day by day, of his daily and nightly deeds; and if he has not
+sinned, let him not boast, but let him endure in what is good and
+not be negligent, neither condemn his neighbour, neither justify
+himself, as said the blessed Apostle Paul, until the Lord comes
+who searches secret things.&nbsp; For we often deceive ourselves
+in what we do, and we indeed know not: but the Lord comprehends
+all.&nbsp; Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us
+sympathise with each other; and let us bear each other&rsquo;s
+burdens, and examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us
+be eager to fill up.&nbsp; And let this, too, be my counsel for
+safety against sinning.&nbsp; Let us each note and write down the
+deeds and motions of the soul as if he were about to relate them
+to each other; and be confident that, as we shall be utterly
+ashamed that they should be known, we shall cease from sinning,
+and even from desiring anything mean.&nbsp; For who when he sins
+wishes to be harmed thereby?&nbsp; Or who, having sinned, does
+not rather lie, wishing to hide it?&nbsp; As therefore when in
+each other&rsquo;s sight we dare not commit a crime, so if we
+write down our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we shall
+keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they
+should be known. . . .&nbsp; And thus forming ourselves we shall
+be able to bring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on
+the one hand, and on the other trample on the snares of the
+enemy.&rdquo;&nbsp; This was his exhortation to those who met
+him: but with those who suffered he suffered, and prayed with
+them.&nbsp; And often and in many things the Lord heard him; and
+neither when he was heard did he boast; nor when he was not heard
+did he murmur: but, remaining always the same, gave thanks to the
+Lord.&nbsp; And those who suffered he exhorted to keep up heart,
+and to know that the power of cure was none of his, nor of any
+man&rsquo;s; but only belonged to God, who works when and
+whatsoever he chooses.&nbsp; So the sufferers received this as a
+remedy, learning not to despise the old man&rsquo;s words, but
+rather to keep up heart; and those who were cured learned not to
+bless Antony, but God alone.</p>
+<p>For instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace,
+and had a grievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and
+tried to injure his eyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony
+to pray for him.&nbsp; And when he had prayed he said to Fronto,
+&ldquo;Depart, and be healed.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when he resisted,
+and remained within some days, Antony continued saying,
+&ldquo;Thou canst not be healed if thou remainest here; go forth,
+and as soon as thou enterest Egypt, thou shalt see the sign which
+shall befall thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; He, believing, went forth; and as
+soon as he only saw Egypt he was freed from his disease, and
+became sound according to the word of Antony, which he had learnt
+by prayer from the Saviour . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint:
+which need not be translated.]</p>
+<p>But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed
+them on the journey, one of them died, and the other was about to
+die.&nbsp; In fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon
+the ground expecting death.&nbsp; But Antony, as he sat on the
+mountain, called two monks who happened to be there, and hastened
+them, saying, &ldquo;Take a pitcher of water, and run on the road
+towards Egypt; for of two who are coming hither one has just
+expired, and the other will do so if you do not hasten.&nbsp; For
+this has been showed to me as I prayed.&rdquo;&nbsp; So the monks
+going found the one lying dead, and buried him; and the other
+they recovered with the water, and brought him to the old
+man.&nbsp; Now the distance was a day&rsquo;s journey.&nbsp; But
+if any one should ask why he did not speak before one of them
+expired, he does not question rightly; for the judgment of that
+death did not belong to Antony, but to God, who both judged
+concerning the one; and revealed concerning the other.&nbsp; But
+this alone in Antony was wonderful, that sitting on the mountain
+he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord showed him things afar
+off.</p>
+<p>For once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he
+saw some one carried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who
+met him.&nbsp; Then wondering, and blessing such a choir, he
+prayed to be taught what that might be; and straightway a voice
+came to him that this was the soul of Ammon, the monk in Nitria,
+<a name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60"
+class="citation">[60]</a> who had persevered as an ascetic to his
+old age; and the distance from Nitria to the mountain where
+Antony was, is thirteen days&rsquo; journey.&nbsp; Those then who
+were with Antony, seeing the old man wondering, asked the reason,
+and heard that Ammon had just expired, for he was known to them
+on account of his having frequently come thither, and many signs
+having been worked by him, of which this is one. . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of
+Ammon&rsquo;s being miraculously carried across the river Lycus,
+because he was ashamed to undress himself.]</p>
+<p>But the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon&rsquo;s death
+noted down the day; and when brethren came from Nitria after
+thirty days, they inquired and learnt that Ammon had fallen
+asleep at the day and hour in which the old man saw his soul
+carried aloft.&nbsp; And all on both sides wondered at the purity
+of Antony&rsquo;s soul; how he had learnt and seen instantly what
+had happened thirteen days&rsquo; journey off.</p>
+<p>Moreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer
+mountain praying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that
+wonderful and Christ-bearing maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered
+dreadful internal pain from her extreme training, and was
+altogether weak in body.&nbsp; Antony, therefore, prayed; and the
+Count noted down the day on which the prayer was offered.&nbsp;
+And going back to Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and asking
+when and on what day her malady had ceased, he brought out the
+paper on which he had written down the date of the prayer.&nbsp;
+And when she told him, he showed at once the writing on the
+paper.&nbsp; And all found that the Lord had stopped her
+sufferings while Antony was still praying and calling for her on
+the goodness of the Saviour.</p>
+<p>And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some
+days, or even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were
+coming.&nbsp; For some came only to see him, and others on
+account of sickness, and others because they suffered from
+d&aelig;mons, and all thought the labour of the journey no
+trouble nor harm, for each went back aware that he had been
+benefited.&nbsp; And when he spoke and looked thus, he asked no
+one to marvel at him on that account, but to marvel rather at the
+Lord, because he had given us, who are but men, grace to know him
+according to our powers.&nbsp; And as he was going down again to
+the outer cells, and was minded to enter a boat and pray with the
+monks, he alone perceived a dreadfully evil odour, and when those
+in the boat told him that they had fish and brine on board, and
+that it was they which smelt, he said that it was a different
+smell; and while he was yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil
+spirit, had gone before them and hidden in the boat, suddenly
+cried out.&nbsp; But the d&aelig;mon, being rebuked in the name
+of our Lord Jesus Christ, went out of him, and the man became
+whole, and all knew that the smell had come from the evil
+spirit.&nbsp; And there was another man of high rank who came to
+him, having a d&aelig;mon, and one so terrible, that the
+possessed man did not know that he was going to Antony, but
+[showed the common symptoms of mania].&nbsp; Those who brought
+him entreated Antony to pray over him, which he did, feeling for
+the young man, and he watched beside him all night.&nbsp; But
+about dawn, the young man, suddenly rushing on Antony, assaulted
+him.&nbsp; When those who came with him were indignant, Antony
+said, &ldquo;Be not hard upon the youth, for it is not he, but
+the d&aelig;mon in him; and because he has been rebuked, and
+commanded to go forth into dry places, he has become furious, and
+done this.&nbsp; Glorify, therefore, the Lord for his having thus
+rushed upon me, as a sign to you that the d&aelig;mon is going
+out.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as Antony said this, the youth suddenly
+became sound, and, recovering his reason, knew where he was, and
+embraced the old man, giving thanks to God.&nbsp; And most of the
+monks agree unanimously that many like things were done by him:
+yet are they not so wonderful as what follows.&nbsp; For once,
+when he was going to eat, and rose up to pray about the ninth
+hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and (wonderful to relate)
+as he stood he saw himself as it were taken out of himself, and
+led into the air by some persons; and then others, bitter and
+terrible, standing in the air, and trying to prevent his passing
+upwards.&nbsp; And when those who led him fought against them,
+they demanded whether he was not accountable to them.&nbsp; And
+when they began to take account of his deeds from his birth, his
+guides stopped them, saying, &ldquo;What happened from his birth
+upwards, the Lord hath wiped out: but of what has happened since
+he became a monk, and made a promise to God, of that you may
+demand an account.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then, when they brought
+accusations against him, and could not prove them, the road was
+opened freely to him.&nbsp; And straightway he saw himself as if
+coming back and standing before himself, and was Antony once
+more.&nbsp; Then, forgetting that he had not eaten, he remained
+the rest of the day and all night groaning and praying, for he
+wondered when he saw against how many enemies we must wrestle,
+and through how many labours a man must traverse the air; and he
+remembered that it is this which the Apostle means with regard to
+the Prince of the power of the air; for it is in the air that the
+enemy has his power, fighting against those who pass through it,
+and trying to hinder them.&nbsp; Wherefore, also he especially
+exhorts us: &ldquo;Take the whole armour of God, that the enemy,
+having no evil to say about us, may be ashamed.&rdquo;&nbsp; But
+when we heard this, we remembered the Apostle&rsquo;s saying,
+&ldquo;Whether in the body I cannot tell, or out of the body I
+cannot tell: God knoweth.&rdquo;&nbsp; But Paul was caught up
+into the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable words,
+descended again; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and
+wrestling till he seemed to be free.</p>
+<p>Again, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the
+mountain, if at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was
+revealed to him by Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man
+was, as Scripture says, taught of God.&nbsp; After this, at all
+events, when he had been talking with some who came to him
+concerning the departure of the soul, and what would be its place
+after this life, the next night some one called him from without,
+and said, &ldquo;Rise up, Antony; come out and see.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So coming out (for he knew whom he ought to obey), he beheld a
+tall being, shapeless and terrible, standing and reaching to the
+clouds, and as it were winged beings ascending; and him
+stretching out his hands; and some of them hindered by him, and
+others flying above him, and when they had once passed him, borne
+upwards without trouble.&nbsp; But against them that tall being
+gnashed his teeth, while over those who fell, he rejoiced.&nbsp;
+And there came a voice to Antony, &ldquo;Consider what thou
+seest.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when his understanding was opened, he
+perceived that it was the enemy who envies the faithful, and that
+those who were in his power he mastered and hindered from
+passing; but that those who had not obeyed him, over them, as
+over conquerors, he had no power.&nbsp; Having seen this, and as
+it were made mindful by it, he struggled more and more daily to
+improve.&nbsp; Now these things he did not tell of his own
+accord; but when he was long in prayer, and astonished in
+himself, those who were with him questioned him and urged him;
+and he was forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide anything
+from his children; and considering, too, that his own conscience
+was clear, and the story would be profitable for them, when they
+learned that the life of training bore good fruit, and that
+visions often came as a solace of their toils.</p>
+<p>But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit;
+for though he was so great, he both honoured exceedingly the
+canon of the Church, and wished to put every ecclesiastic before
+himself in honour.&nbsp; For to the bishops and presbyters he was
+not ashamed to bow his head; and if a deacon ever came to him for
+the sake of profit, he discoursed with him on what was
+profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him, not being ashamed
+even himself to learn from him. <a name="citation65"></a><a
+href="#footnote65" class="citation">[65]</a>&nbsp; For he often
+asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present, confessing
+that he was profited if any one said aught that was useful.&nbsp;
+Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace; and this
+gift too he had from the Saviour.&nbsp; For if he was present
+among the multitude of monks, and any one who did not previously
+know him wished to see him, as soon as he came he passed by all
+the rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by his
+eyes.&nbsp; He did not differ from the rest in stature or in
+stoutness, but in the steadiness of his temper, and purity of his
+soul; for as his soul was undisturbed, his outward senses were
+undisturbed likewise, so that the cheerfulness of his soul made
+his face cheerful, and from the movements of his body the
+stedfastness of his soul could be perceived, according to the
+Scripture, &ldquo;When the heart is cheerful the countenance is
+glad; but when sorrow comes it scowleth.&rdquo; . . . And he was
+altogether wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never
+communicated with the Meletian <a name="citation66a"></a><a
+href="#footnote66a" class="citation">[66a]</a> schismatics,
+knowing their malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor did he
+converse amicably with Manich&aelig;ans or any other heretics,
+save only to exhort them to be converted to piety.&nbsp; For he
+held that their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to
+the soul.&nbsp; So also he detested the heresy of the Arians, and
+exhorted all not to approach them, nor hold their misbelief. <a
+name="citation66b"></a><a href="#footnote66b"
+class="citation">[66b]</a>&nbsp; In fact, when certain of the
+Ariomanites came to him, having discerned them and found them
+impious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying that their
+words were worse than serpent&rsquo;s poison; and when the Arians
+once pretended that he was of the same opinion as they, he was
+indignant and fierce against them.&nbsp; Then being sent for by
+the bishops and all the brethren, he went down from the mountain,
+and entering Alexandria he denounced the Arians, saying, that
+that was the last heresy, and the forerunner of Antichrist; and
+he taught the people that the Son of God was not a created thing,
+neither made from nought, but that he is the Eternal Word and
+Wisdom of the Essence of the Father; wherefore also it is impious
+to say there was a time when he was not, for he was always the
+Word co-existent with the Father.&nbsp; Wherefore he said,
+&ldquo;Do not have any communication with these most impious
+Arians; for there is no communion between light and
+darkness.&nbsp; For you are pious Christians: but they, when they
+say that the Son of God and the Word, who is from the Father, is
+a created being, differ nought from the heathen, because they
+worship the creature instead of God the Creator. <a
+name="citation67"></a><a href="#footnote67"
+class="citation">[67]</a>&nbsp; Believe rather that the whole
+creation itself is indignant against them, because they number
+the Creator and Lord of all, in whom all things are made, among
+created things.&rdquo;&nbsp; All the people therefore rejoiced at
+hearing that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized by such a man;
+and all those in the city ran together to see Antony and the
+Greeks, <a name="citation68a"></a><a href="#footnote68a"
+class="citation">[68a]</a> and those who are called their priests
+<a name="citation68b"></a><a href="#footnote68b"
+class="citation">[68b]</a> came into the church, wishing to see
+the man of God; for all called him by that name, because there
+the Lord cleansed many by him from d&aelig;mons, and healed those
+who were out of their mind.&nbsp; And many heathens wished only
+to touch the old man, believing that it would be of use to them;
+and in fact as many became Christians in those few days, as would
+have been usually converted in a year.&nbsp; And when some
+thought that the crowd troubled him, and therefore turned all
+away from him, he quietly said that they were not more numerous
+than the fiends with whom he wrestled on the mountain.&nbsp; But
+when he left the city, and we were setting him on his journey,
+when we came to the gate a certain woman called to him:
+&ldquo;Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously vexed with a
+devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with running
+after thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; The old man hearing it, and being asked
+by us, waited willingly.&nbsp; But when the woman drew near, the
+child dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and
+called on the name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean
+spirit having gone out; and the mother blessed God, and we all
+gave thanks: and he himself rejoiced at leaving the city for the
+mountain, as for his own home.</p>
+<p>Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had
+never learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding
+man.&nbsp; Once, for example, two Greek philosophers came to him,
+thinking that they could tempt Antony.&nbsp; And he was in the
+outer mountain; and when he went out to them, understanding the
+men from their countenances, he said through an interpreter,
+&ldquo;Why have you troubled yourselves so much, philosophers, to
+come to a foolish man?&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they answered that
+he was not foolish, but rather very wise, he said, &ldquo;If you
+have come to a fool, your labour is superfluous, but if ye think
+me to be wise, become as I am; for we ought to copy what is good,
+and if I had come to you, I should have copied you; but if you
+come to me, copy me, for I am a Christian.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they
+wondering went their way, for they saw that even d&aelig;mons
+were afraid of Antony.</p>
+<p>And again when others of the same class met him in the outer
+mountain, and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt
+letters, Antony answered, &ldquo;But what do you say? which is
+first, the sense or the letters?&nbsp; And which is the cause of
+the other, the sense of the letters, or the letters of the
+sense?&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they said that the sense came first,
+and invented the letters, Antony replied, &ldquo;If then the
+sense be sound, the letters are not needed.&rdquo;&nbsp; Which
+struck them, and those present, with astonishment.&nbsp; So they
+went away wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an
+unlearned man.&nbsp; For though he had lived and grown old in the
+mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and urbane;
+and his speech was seasoned with the divine salt, so that no man
+grudged at him, but rather rejoiced over him, as many as came. .
+. .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship,
+attributed to St. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity:
+the only point about it which is worthy of note is that Antony
+confutes the philosophers by challenging them to cure some
+possessed persons, and, when they are unable to do so, casts out
+the d&aelig;mons himself by the sign of the cross.]</p>
+<p>The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus
+the Augustus, and his sons, Constantius and Constans, the
+Augusti, hearing of these things, wrote to him as to a father,
+and begged to receive an answer from him.&nbsp; But he did not
+make much of the letters, nor was puffed up by their messages;
+and he was just the same as he was before the kings wrote to
+him.&nbsp; And he called his monks and said, &ldquo;Wonder not if
+a king writes to us, for he is but a man: but wonder rather that
+God has written his law to man, and spoken to us by his own
+Son.&rdquo;&nbsp; So he declined to receive their letters, saying
+he did not know how to write an answer to such things; but being
+admonished by the monks that the kings were Christians, and that
+they must not be scandalized by being despised, he permitted the
+letters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting them because
+they worshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their
+salvation, not to think the present life great, but rather to
+remember judgment to come; and to know that Christ was the only
+true and eternal king; and he begged them to be merciful to men,
+and to think of justice and the poor.&nbsp; And they, when they
+received the answer, rejoiced.&nbsp; Thus was he kindly towards
+all, and all looked on him as their father.&nbsp; He then betook
+himself again into the inner mountain, and continued his
+accustomed training.&nbsp; But often, when he was sitting and
+walking with those who came unto him, he was astounded, as is
+written in Daniel.&nbsp; And after the space of an hour, he told
+what had befallen to the brethren who were with him, and they
+perceived that he had seen some vision.&nbsp; Often he saw in the
+mountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion the
+bishop, who saw him occupied with a vision.&nbsp; Once, for
+instance, as he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, and
+groaned much at what he saw.&nbsp; Then, after an hour, turning
+to those who were with him, he groaned and fell into a trembling,
+and rose up and prayed, and bending his knees, remained so a long
+while; and then the old man rose up and wept.&nbsp; The
+bystanders, therefore, trembling and altogether terrified, asked
+him to tell them what had happened, and tormented him much, that
+he was forced to speak.&nbsp; And he groaning
+greatly&mdash;&ldquo;Ah! my children,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it
+were better to be dead before what I have seen shall come to
+pass.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they asked him again, he said with
+tears, that &ldquo;Wrath will seize on the Church, and she will
+be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no
+understanding; for I saw the table of the Lord&rsquo;s house, and
+mules standing all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a
+herd does when it leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I
+groaned, for I heard a voice saying, &lsquo;My sanctuary shall be
+defiled.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the
+present inroad of the Arians, <a name="citation72a"></a><a
+href="#footnote72a" class="citation">[72a]</a> and the plunder of
+the churches, when they carried off the holy vessels by violence,
+and made the heathen carry them: and when too they forced the
+heathens from the prisons to join them, and in their presence did
+on the holy table what they would. <a name="citation72b"></a><a
+href="#footnote72b" class="citation">[72b]</a>&nbsp; Then we all
+perceived that the kicks of those mules presignified to Antony
+what the Arians are now doing without understanding, like the
+brutes.&nbsp; But when Antony saw this sight, he exhorted those
+about him, saying, &ldquo;Lose not heart, children; for as the
+Lord has been angry, so will he again be appeased, and the Church
+shall soon receive again her own order and shine forth as she is
+wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their place,
+and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious
+faith speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom.&nbsp; Only
+defile not yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not
+of the Apostle but of the d&aelig;mons, and of their father the
+devil: barren and irrational and of an unsound mind, like the
+irrational deeds of those mules.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus spoke
+Antony.</p>
+<p>But we must not doubt whether so great wonders have been done
+by a man; for the Saviour&rsquo;s promise is, &ldquo;If ye have
+faith as a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain,
+Pass over from hence, it shall pass over, and nothing shall be
+impossible to you;&rdquo; and again, &ldquo;Verily, verily, I say
+unto you, if ye shall ask my Father in my name, he shall give it
+you.&nbsp; Ask, and ye shall receive.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he himself
+it is who said to his disciples and to all who believe in him,
+&ldquo;Heal the sick, cast out devils; freely ye have received,
+freely give.&rdquo;&nbsp; And certainly Antony did not heal by
+his own authority, but by praying and calling on Christ; so that
+it was plain to all that it was not he who did it, but the Lord,
+who through Antony showed love to men, and healed the
+sufferers.&nbsp; But Antony&rsquo;s part was only the prayer and
+the training, for the sake whereof, sitting in the mountain, he
+rejoiced in the sight of divine things, and grieved when he was
+tormented by many, and dragged to the outer mountain.</p>
+<p>For all the magistrates asked him to come down from the
+mountain, because it was impossible for them to go in thither to
+him on account of the litigants who followed him; so they begged
+him to come, that they might only behold him.&nbsp; And when he
+declined they insisted, and even sent in to him prisoners under
+the charge of soldiers, that at least on their account he might
+come down.&nbsp; So being forced by necessity, and seeing them
+lamenting, he came to the outer mountain.&nbsp; And his labour
+this time too was profitable to many, and his coming for their
+good.&nbsp; To the magistrates, too, he was of use, counselling
+them to prefer justice to all things, and to fear God, and to
+know that with what judgment they judged they should be judged in
+turn.&nbsp; But he loved best of all his life in the
+mountain.&nbsp; Once again, when he was compelled in the same way
+to leave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the
+soldiers, who entreated him earnestly, he came down, and having
+spoken to them somewhat of the things which conduced to
+salvation, he was pressed also by those who were in need.&nbsp;
+But being asked by the general to lengthen his stay, he refused,
+and persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying, &ldquo;Fishes,
+if they lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with you
+lose their strength.&nbsp; As the fishes then hasten to the sea,
+so must we to the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget
+what is within.&rdquo;&nbsp; The general, hearing this and much
+more from him, said with surprise that he was truly a servant of
+God, for whence could an unlearned man have so great sense if he
+were not loved by God?</p>
+<p>Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us
+Christians on account of his affection for those abominable
+Arians.&nbsp; His cruelty was so great that he even beat nuns,
+and stripped and scourged monks.&nbsp; Antony sent him a letter
+to this effect:&mdash;&ldquo;I see wrath coming upon thee.&nbsp;
+Cease, therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay
+hold upon thee, for it is near at hand.&rdquo;&nbsp; But
+Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the ground and spat on
+it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding them tell Antony,
+&ldquo;Since thou carest for monks, I will soon come after thee
+likewise.&rdquo;&nbsp; And not five days had passed, when the
+wrath laid hold on him.&nbsp; For Balacius himself, and
+Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to the first station
+from Alexandria, which is called Ch&aelig;reas&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
+Both of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the
+most gentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the
+place, the horses began playing with each other, as is their
+wont, and suddenly the more gentle of the two, on which Nestorius
+was riding, attacked Balacius and pulled him off with his teeth,
+and so tore his thigh that he was carried back to the city, and
+died in three days.&nbsp; And all wondered that what Antony had
+so wonderfully foretold was so quickly fulfilled.&nbsp; These
+were his warnings to the more cruel.&nbsp; But the rest who came
+to him he so instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits,
+and blessed those who had retired from this life.&nbsp; And those
+who had been unjustly used he so protected that you would think
+he and not they was the sufferer.&nbsp; And he was so able to be
+of use to all; so that many who were serving in the army, and
+many wealthy men, laid aside the burdens of life and became
+thenceforth monks; and altogether he was like a physician given
+by God to Egypt.&nbsp; For who met him grieving, and did not go
+away rejoicing?&nbsp; Who came mourning over his dead, and did
+not forthwith lay aside his grief?&nbsp; Who came wrathful, and
+was not converted to friendship?&nbsp; What poor man came wearied
+out, and when he saw and heard him did not despise wealth and
+comfort himself in his poverty?&nbsp; What monk who had grown
+remiss, was not strengthened by coming to him?&nbsp; What young
+man coming to the mountain and looking upon Antony, did not
+forthwith renounce pleasure and love temperance?&nbsp; Who came
+to him tempted by devils, and did not get rest?&nbsp; Who came
+troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind?&nbsp; For this
+was the great thing in Antony&rsquo;s asceticism, that (as I have
+said before), having the gift of discerning spirits, he
+understood their movements, and knew in what direction each of
+them turned his endeavours and his attacks.&nbsp; And not only he
+was not deceived by them himself, but he taught those who were
+troubled in mind how they might turn aside the plots of
+d&aelig;mons, teaching them the weakness and the craft of their
+enemies.&nbsp; How many maidens, too, who had been already
+betrothed, and only saw Antony from afar, remained unmarried for
+Christ&rsquo;s sake!&nbsp; Some, too, came from foreign parts to
+him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from him as
+from a father.&nbsp; And now he has fallen asleep, all are as
+orphans who have lost a parent, consoling themselves with his
+memory alone, keeping his instructions and exhortations.&nbsp;
+But what the end of his life was like, it is fit that I should
+relate, and you hear eagerly.&nbsp; For it too is worthy of
+emulation.&nbsp; He was visiting, according to his wont, the
+monks in the outer mountain, and having learned from Providence
+concerning his own end, he said to the brethren, &ldquo;This
+visit to you is my last, and I wonder if we shall see each other
+again in this life.&nbsp; It is time for me to set sail, for I am
+near a hundred and five years old.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they
+heard that they wept, and embraced and kissed the old man.&nbsp;
+And he, as if he was setting out from a foreign city to his own,
+spoke joyfully, and exhorted them not to grow idle in their
+labours or cowardly in their training, but to live as those who
+died daily, and (as I said before) to be earnest in keeping their
+souls from foul thoughts, and to emulate the saints, and not to
+draw near the Meletian schismatics, for &ldquo;ye know their evil
+and profane determinations, nor to have any communion with the
+Arians, for their impiety also is manifest to all.&nbsp; Neither
+if ye shall see the magistrates patronising them, be troubled,
+for their phantasy shall have an end, and is mortal and only for
+a little while.&nbsp; Keep yourselves therefore rather clean from
+them, and hold that which has been handed down to you by the
+fathers, and especially the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ which
+ye have learned from Scripture, and of which ye have often been
+reminded by me.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the brethren tried to force
+him to stay with them and make his end there, he would not endure
+it, on many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially
+on this:&mdash;The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the
+corpses of good persons, and especially of the holy martyrs, but
+not to bury them underground, but to lay them upon benches and
+keep them in their houses; <a name="citation77"></a><a
+href="#footnote77" class="citation">[77]</a> thinking that by
+this they honour the departed.&nbsp; Now Antony had often asked
+the bishops to exhort the people about this, and in like manner
+he himself rebuked the laity and terrified the women; saying that
+it was a thing neither lawful nor in any way holy; for that the
+bodies of the patriarchs and prophets are to this day preserved
+in sepulchres, and that the very body of our Lord was laid in a
+sepulchre, and a stone placed over it to hide it, till he rose
+the third day.&nbsp; And thus saying he showed that those broke
+the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even if they
+were holy; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord&rsquo;s
+body?&nbsp; Many, then, when they heard him, buried thenceforth
+underground; and blessed the Lord that they had been taught
+rightly.&nbsp; Being then aware of this, and afraid lest they
+should do the same by his body, he hurried himself, and bade
+farewell to the monks in the outer mountain; and coming to the
+inner mountain, where he was wont to abide, after a few months he
+grew sick, and calling those who were by&mdash;and there were two
+of them who had remained there within fifteen years, exercising
+themselves and ministering to him on account of his old
+age&mdash;he said to them, &ldquo;I indeed go the way of the
+fathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the
+Lord.&rdquo; . . .</p>
+<p>[Then follows a general exhortation to the monk, almost
+identical with much that has gone before, and ending by a command
+that his body should be buried in the ground.]</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no
+one shall know the place, save you alone, for I shall receive it
+(my body) incorruptible from my Saviour in the resurrection of
+the dead.&nbsp; And distribute my garments thus.&nbsp; To
+Athanasius the bishop give one of my sheepskins, and the cloak
+under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown old by
+me; and to Serapion the bishop give the other sheepskin; and do
+you have the hair-cloth garment.&nbsp; And for the rest,
+children, farewell, for Antony is going, and is with you no
+more.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Saying thus, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his
+feet, and, as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on
+their account (for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he
+departed and was gathered to his fathers.&nbsp; And they
+forthwith, as he had commanded them, preparing the body and
+wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one knows to this day
+where it is hidden, save those two servants only.&nbsp; And each
+(<i>i.e.</i> Athanasius and Serapion) having received the
+sheepskin of the blessed Antony, and the cloak which he had worn
+out, keeps them as a great possession.&nbsp; For he who looks on
+them, as it were, sees Antony; and he who puts them on, wears
+them with joy, as he does Antony&rsquo;s counsels.</p>
+<p>Such was the end of Antony in the body, and such the beginning
+of his training.&nbsp; And if these things are small in
+comparison with his virtue, yet reckon up from these things how
+great was Antony, the man of God, who kept unchanged, from his
+youth up to so great an age, the earnestness of his training; and
+was neither worsted in his old age by the desire of more delicate
+food, nor on account of the weakness of his body altered the
+quality of his garment, nor even washed his feet with water; and
+yet remained uninjured in all his limbs: for his eyes were
+undimmed and whole, so that he saw well; and not one of his teeth
+had fallen out, but they were only worn down to his gums on
+account of his great age; and he remained sound in hand and foot;
+and, in a word, appeared ruddier and more ready for exertion than
+all who use various meats and baths, and different dresses.&nbsp;
+But that this man should be celebrated everywhere and wondered at
+by all, and regretted even by those who never saw him, is a proof
+of his virtue, and that his soul was dear to God.&nbsp; For
+Antony became known not by writings, not from the wisdom that is
+from without, not by any art, but by piety alone; and that this
+was the gift of God, none can deny.&nbsp; For how as far as
+Spain, as Gaul, as Rome, as Africa, could he have been heard,
+hidden as he was in a mountain, if it had not been for God, who
+makes known his own men everywhere, and who had promised Antony
+this from the beginning?&nbsp; For even if they do their deeds in
+secret, and wish to be concealed, yet the Lord shows them as
+lights to all, that so those who hear of them may know that the
+commandments suffice to put men in the right way, and may grow
+zealous of the path of virtue.</p>
+<p>Read then these things to the other brethren, that they may
+learn what the life of monks should be, and may believe that the
+Lord Jesus Christ our Saviour will glorify those who glorify him,
+and that those who serve him to the end he will not only bring to
+the kingdom of heaven, but that even if on earth they hide
+themselves and strive to get out of the way, he will make them
+manifest and celebrated everywhere, for the sake of their own
+virtue, and for the benefit of others.&nbsp; But if need be, read
+this also to the heathens, that even thus they may learn that our
+Lord Jesus Christ is not only Lord and the Son of God, but that
+those who truly serve him, and believe piously on him, not only
+prove that those d&aelig;mons whom the Greeks think are gods to
+be no gods, but even tread them under foot, and chase them out as
+deceivers and corrupters of men, through Jesus Christ our Lord,
+to whom be glory and honour for ever and ever.&nbsp; Amen.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Thus ends this strange story.&nbsp; What we are to think of
+the miracles and wonders contained in it, will be discussed at a
+later point in this book.&nbsp; Meanwhile there is a stranger
+story still connected with the life of St. Antony.&nbsp; It
+professes to have been told by him himself to his monks; and
+whatever groundwork of fact there may be in it is doubtless
+his.&nbsp; The form in which we have it was given it by the
+famous St. Jerome, who sends the tale as a letter to Asella, one
+of the many noble Roman ladies whom he persuaded to embrace the
+monastic life.&nbsp; The style is as well worth preserving as the
+matter.&nbsp; Its ruggedness and awkwardness, its ambition and
+affectation, contrasted with the graceful simplicity of
+Athanasius&rsquo;s &ldquo;Life of Antony,&rdquo; mark well the
+difference between the cultivated Greek and the ungraceful and
+half-barbarous Roman of the later Empire.&nbsp; I have,
+therefore, given it as literally as possible, that readers may
+judge for themselves how some of the Great Fathers of the fifth
+century wrote, and what they believed.</p>
+<h2><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>THE
+LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT<br />
+<span class="GutSmall">BY THE DIVINE HIERONYMUS THE
+PRIEST.</span><br />
+<span class="GutSmall">(ST. JEROME.)</span></h2>
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Many</span> have often doubted by which of
+the monks the desert was first inhabited.&nbsp; For some, looking
+for the beginnings of Monachism in earlier ages, have deduced it
+from the blessed Elias and John; of whom Elias seems to us to
+have been rather a prophet than a monk; and John to have begun to
+prophesy before he was born.&nbsp; But others (an opinion in
+which all the common people are agreed) assert that Antony was
+the head of this rule of life, which is partly true.&nbsp; For he
+was not so much himself the first of all, as the man who excited
+the earnestness of all.&nbsp; But Amathas and Macarius,
+Antony&rsquo;s disciples (the former of whom buried his
+master&rsquo;s body), even now affirm that a certain Paul, a
+Theban, was the beginner of the matter; which (not so much in
+name as in opinion) we also hold to be true.&nbsp; Some scatter
+about, as the fancy takes them, both this and other stories;
+inventing incredible tales of a man in a subterranean cave, hairy
+down to his heels, and many other things, which it is tedious to
+follow out.&nbsp; For, as their lie is shameless, their opinion
+does not seem worth refuting.</p>
+<p>Therefore, because careful accounts of Antony, both in Greek
+and Roman style, have been handed down, I have determined to
+write a little about the beginning and end of Paul&rsquo;s life;
+more because the matter has been omitted, than trusting to my own
+wit.&nbsp; But how he lived during middle life, or what
+stratagems of Satan he endured, is known to none.</p>
+<h3>THE LIFE OF PAUL</h3>
+<p>Under Decius and Valerius, the persecutors, at the time when
+Cornelius at Rome, and Cyprian at Carthage, were condemned in
+blessed blood, a cruel tempest swept over many Churches in Egypt
+and the Thebaid.</p>
+<p>Christian subjects in those days longed to be smitten with the
+sword for the name of Christ.&nbsp; But the crafty enemy, seeking
+out punishments which delayed death, longed to slay souls, not
+bodies.&nbsp; And as Cyprian himself (who suffered by him) says:
+&ldquo;When they longed to die, they were not allowed to be
+slain.&rdquo;&nbsp; In order to make his cruelty better known, we
+have set down two examples for remembrance.</p>
+<p>A martyr, persevering in the faith, and conqueror amid racks
+and red-hot irons, he commanded to be anointed with honey and
+laid on his back under a burning sun, with his hands tied behind
+him; in order, forsooth, that he who had already conquered the
+fiery gridiron, might yield to the stings of flies.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul left at the
+death of both his parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister
+already married; being about fifteen years old, well taught in
+Greek and Egyptian letters, gentle tempered, loving God much;
+and, when the storm of persecution burst, he withdrew into a
+distant city.&nbsp; But</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;To what dost thou not urge the human
+breast<br />
+Curst hunger after gold?&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>His sister&rsquo;s husband was ready to betray him whom he
+should have concealed.&nbsp; Neither the tears of his wife, the
+tie of blood, or God who looks on all things from on high, could
+call him back from his crime.&nbsp; He was at hand, ready to
+seize him, making piety a pretext for cruelty.&nbsp; The boy
+discovered it, and fled into the desert hills.&nbsp; Once there
+he changed need into pleasure, and going on, and then stopping
+awhile, again and again, reached at last a stony cliff, at the
+foot whereof was, nigh at hand, a great cave, its mouth closed
+with a stone.&nbsp; Having moved which away (as man&rsquo;s
+longing is to know the hidden), exploring more greedily, he sees
+within a great hall, open to the sky above, but shaded by the
+spreading boughs of an ancient palm; and in it a clear spring,
+the rill from which, flowing a short space forth, was sucked up
+again by the same soil which had given it birth.&nbsp; There were
+besides in that cavernous mountain not a few dwellings, in which
+he saw rusty anvils and hammers, with which coin had been stamped
+of old.&nbsp; For this place (so books say) was the workshop for
+base coin in the days when Antony lived with Cleopatra.</p>
+<p>Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by
+God, he spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the
+palm-tree gave him food and clothes; which lest it should seem
+impossible to some, I call Jesus and his holy angels to witness
+that I have seen monks one of whom, shut up for thirty years,
+lived on barley bread and muddy water; another in an old cistern,
+which in the country speech they call the Syrian&rsquo;s bed, was
+kept alive on five figs each day.&nbsp; These things, therefore,
+will seem incredible to those who do not believe; for to those
+who do believe all things are possible.</p>
+<p>But to return thither whence I digressed.&nbsp; When the
+blessed Paul had been leading the heavenly life on earth for 113
+years, and Antony, ninety years old, was dwelling in another
+solitude, this thought (so Antony was wont to assert) entered his
+mind&mdash;that no monk more perfect than he had settled in the
+desert.&nbsp; But as he lay still by night, it was revealed to
+him that there was another monk beyond him far better than he, to
+visit whom he must set out.&nbsp; So when the light broke, the
+venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on a staff, began to
+will to go, he knew not whither.&nbsp; And now the mid day, with
+the sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not turned
+from the journey he had begun, saying, &ldquo;I trust in my God,
+that he will show his servant that which he has
+promised.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as he spake, he sees a man half horse,
+to whom the poets have given the name of Hippocentaur.&nbsp;
+Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead with the salutary impression
+of the Cross, and, &ldquo;Here!&rdquo; he says, &ldquo;in what
+part here does a servant of God dwell?&rdquo;&nbsp; But he,
+growling I know not what barbarous sound, and grinding rather
+than uttering, the words, attempted a courteous speech from lips
+rough with bristles, and, stretching out his right hand, pointed
+to the way; then, fleeing swiftly across the open plains,
+vanished from the eyes of the wondering Antony.&nbsp; But whether
+the devil took this form to terrify him; or whether the desert,
+fertile (as is its wont) in monstrous animals, begets that beast
+likewise, we hold as uncertain.</p>
+<p>So Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen,
+goes forward.&nbsp; Soon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a
+short manikin, with crooked nose and brow rough with horns, whose
+lower parts ended in goat&rsquo;s feet.&nbsp; Undismayed by this
+spectacle likewise, Antony seized, like a good warrior, the
+shield of faith and habergeon of hope; the animal, however, was
+bringing him dates, as food for his journey, and a pledge of
+peace.&nbsp; When he saw that, Antony pushed on, and, asking him
+who he was, was answered, &ldquo;I am a mortal, and one of the
+inhabitants of the desert, whom the Gentiles, deluded by various
+errors, worship by the name of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi.&nbsp; I
+come as ambassador from our herd, that thou mayest pray for us to
+the common God, who, we know, has come for the salvation of the
+world, and his sound is gone out into all lands.&rdquo;&nbsp; As
+he spoke thus, the aged wayfarer bedewed his face plenteously
+with tears, which the greatness of his joy had poured forth as
+signs of his heart.&nbsp; For he rejoiced at the glory of Christ,
+and the destruction of Satan; and, wondering at the same time
+that he could understand the creature&rsquo;s speech, he smote on
+the ground with his staff, and said, &ldquo;Woe to thee,
+Alexandria, who worshippest portents instead of God!&nbsp; Woe to
+thee, harlot city, into which all the demons of the world have
+flowed together!&nbsp; What wilt thou say now?&nbsp; Beasts talk
+of Christ, and thou worshippest portents instead of
+God.&rdquo;&nbsp; He had hardly finished his words, when the
+swift beast fled away as upon wings.&nbsp; Lest this should move
+a scruple in any one on account of its incredibility, it was
+corroborated, in the reign of Constantine, by the testimony of
+the whole world.&nbsp; For a man of that kind, being led alive to
+Alexandria, afforded a great spectacle to the people; and
+afterwards the lifeless carcase, being salted lest it should
+decay in the summer heat, was brought to Antioch, to be seen by
+the Emperor.</p>
+<p>But&mdash;to go on with my tale&mdash;Antony went on through
+that region, seeing only the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide
+waste of the desert.&nbsp; What he should do, or whither turn, he
+knew not.&nbsp; A second day had now run by.&nbsp; One thing
+remained, to be confident that he could not be deserted by
+Christ.&nbsp; All night through he spent a second darkness in
+prayer, and while the light was still dim, he sees afar a
+she-wolf, panting with heat and thirst, creeping in at the foot
+of the mountain.&nbsp; Following her with his eyes, and drawing
+nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began to look in:
+but in vain; for the darkness stopped his view.&nbsp; However, as
+the Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle
+step and bated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going
+forward slowly, and stopping often, watched for a sound.&nbsp; At
+length he saw afar off a light through the horror of the
+darkness; hastened on more greedily; struck his foot against a
+stone; and made a noise, at which the blessed Paul shut and
+barred his door, which had stood open.</p>
+<p>Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed
+there till the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying,
+&ldquo;Who I am, and whence, and why I am come, thou
+knowest.&nbsp; I know that I deserve not to see thy face; yet,
+unless I see thee, I will not return.&nbsp; Thou who receivest
+beasts, why repellest thou a man?&nbsp; I have sought, and I have
+found.&nbsp; I knock, that it may be opened to me: which if I win
+not, here will I die before thy gate.&nbsp; Surely thou shalt at
+least bury my corpse.&rdquo;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Persisting thus he spoke, and stood there
+fixed:<br />
+To whom the hero shortly thus replied.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>&ldquo;No one begs thus to threaten.&nbsp; No one does injury
+with tears.&nbsp; And dost thou wonder why I do not let thee in,
+seeing thou art a mortal guest?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Paul, smiling, opened the door.&nbsp; They mingled mutual
+embraces, and saluted each other by their names, and committed
+themselves in common to the grace of God.&nbsp; And after the
+holy kiss, Paul sitting down with Antony thus began&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Behold him, whom thou hast sought with such labour;
+with limbs decayed by age, and covered with unkempt white
+hair.&nbsp; Behold, thou seest but a mortal, soon to become
+dust.&nbsp; But, because charity bears all things, tell me, I
+pray thee, how fares the human race? whether new houses are
+rising in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the world
+governed? whether there are any left who are led captive by the
+deceits of the devil?&rdquo;&nbsp; As they spoke thus, they saw a
+raven settle on a bough; who, flying gently down, laid, to their
+wonder, a whole loaf before them.&nbsp; When he was gone,
+&ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said Paul, &ldquo;the Lord, truly loving, truly
+merciful, hath sent us a meal.&nbsp; For sixty years past I have
+received daily half a loaf, but at thy coming Christ hath doubled
+his soldiers&rsquo; allowance.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then, having thanked
+God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.</p>
+<p>But here a contention arising as to which of them should break
+the loaf, occupied the day till well-nigh evening.&nbsp; Paul
+insisted, as the host; Antony declined, as the younger man.&nbsp;
+At last it was agreed that they should take hold of the loaf at
+opposite ends, and each pull towards himself, and keep what was
+left in his hand.&nbsp; Next they stooped down, and drank a
+little water from the spring; then, immolating to God the
+sacrifice of praise, passed the night watching.</p>
+<p>And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony,
+&ldquo;I knew long since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in
+these lands; long since God had promised thee to me as a fellow
+servant: but because the time of my falling asleep is now come,
+and (because I always longed to depart, and to be with Christ)
+there is laid up for me when I have finished my course a crown of
+righteousness; therefore thou art sent from the Lord to cover my
+corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to
+desert him, but take him as his companion on such a
+journey.&nbsp; But he said, &ldquo;Thou must not seek the things
+which are thine own, but the things of others.&nbsp; It is
+expedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden of the flesh,
+and to follow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest of the
+brethren that they should be still trained by thine
+example.&nbsp; Wherefore go, unless it displease thee, and bring
+the cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave thee, to wrap up my
+corpse.&rdquo;&nbsp; But this the blessed Paul asked, not because
+he cared greatly whether his body decayed covered or bare (as one
+who for so long a time was used to clothe himself with woven palm
+leaves), but that Antony&rsquo;s grief at his death might be
+lightened when he left him.&nbsp; Antony astounded that he had
+heard of Athanasius and his own cloak, seeing as it were Christ
+in Paul, and venerating the God within his breast, dared answer
+nothing: but keeping in silence, and kissing his eyes and hands,
+returned to the monastery, which afterwards was occupied by the
+Saracens.&nbsp; His steps could not follow his spirit; but,
+although his body was empty with fastings, and broken with old
+age, yet his courage conquered his <a name="page92"></a><span
+class="pagenum">p. 92</span>years.&nbsp; At last, tired and
+breathless, he arrived at home.&nbsp; There two disciples met
+him, who had been long sent to minister to him, and asked him,
+&ldquo;Where hast thou tarried so long, father?&rdquo;&nbsp; He
+answered, &ldquo;Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of
+a monk.&nbsp; I have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert;
+I have truly seen Paul in Paradise;&rdquo; and so, closing his
+lips, and beating his breast, he took the cloak from his cell,
+and when his disciples asked him to explain more fully what had
+befallen, he said, &ldquo;There is a time to be silent, and a
+time to speak.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then going out, and not taking even a
+morsel of food, he returned by the way he had come.&nbsp; For he
+feared&mdash;what actually happened&mdash;lest Paul in his
+absence should render up the soul he owed to Christ.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p92b.jpg">
+<img alt=
+"Paul, the first Hermit"
+title=
+"Paul, the first Hermit"
+src="images/p92s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his
+steps for three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the
+choirs of prophets and apostles, Paul shining white as snow,
+ascending up on high; and forthwith falling on his face, he cast
+sand on his head, and weeping and wailing, said, &ldquo;Why dost
+thou dismiss me, Paul?&nbsp; Why dost thou depart without a
+farewell?&nbsp; So late known, dost thou vanish so
+soon?&rdquo;&nbsp; The blessed Antony used to tell afterwards,
+how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly that he flew like a
+bird.&nbsp; Nor without cause.&nbsp; For entering the cave he
+saw, with bended knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on high,
+a lifeless corpse.&nbsp; And at first, thinking that it still
+lived, he prayed in like wise.&nbsp; But when he heard no sighs
+(as usual) come from the worshipper&rsquo;s breast, he fell to a
+tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse of the saint was
+praying, in seemly attitude, to that God to whom all live.</p>
+<p>So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and
+chanting hymns of the Christian tradition, Antony grew sad,
+because he had no spade, wherewith to dig the ground; and
+thinking over many plans in his mind, said, &ldquo;If I go back
+to the monastery, it is a three days&rsquo; journey.&nbsp; If I
+stay here, I shall be of no more use.&nbsp; I will die, then, as
+it is fit; and, falling beside thy warrior, Christ, breathe my
+last breath.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he was thinking thus to himself, lo! two lions came running
+from the inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their
+necks; seeing whom he shuddered at first; and then, turning his
+mind to God, remained fearless, as though he were looking upon
+doves.&nbsp; They came straight to the corpse of the blessed old
+man, and crouched at his feet, wagging their tails, and roaring
+with mighty growls, so that Antony understood them to lament, as
+best they could.&nbsp; Then not far off they began to claw the
+ground with their paws, and, carrying out the sand eagerly, dug a
+place large enough to hold a man: then at once, as if begging a
+reward for their work, they came to Antony, drooping their necks,
+and licking his hands and feet.&nbsp; But he perceived that they
+prayed a blessing from him; and at once, bursting into praise of
+Christ, because even dumb animals felt that he was God, he saith,
+&ldquo;Lord, without whose word not a leaf of the tree drops, nor
+one sparrow falls to the ground, give to them as thou knowest how
+to give.&rdquo;&nbsp; And, signing to them with his hand, he bade
+them go.</p>
+<p>And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the
+weight of the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped
+earth on it, and raised a mound as is the wont.&nbsp; And when
+another dawn shone, lest the pious heir should not possess aught
+of the goods of the intestate dead, he kept for himself the tunic
+which Paul had woven, as baskets are made, out of the leaves of
+the palm; and returning to the monastery, told his disciples all
+throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter and Pentecost,
+always clothed himself in Paul&rsquo;s tunic.</p>
+<p>I am inclined, at the end of my treatise, to ask those who
+know not the extent of their patrimonies; who cover their houses
+with marbles; who sew the price of whole farms into their
+garments with a single thread&mdash;What was ever wanting to this
+naked old man?&nbsp; Ye drink from a gem; he satisfied nature
+from the hollow of his hands.&nbsp; Ye weave gold into your
+tunics; he had not even the vilest garment of your
+bond-slave.&nbsp; But, on the other hand, to that poor man
+Paradise is open; you, gilded as you are, Gehenna will
+receive.&nbsp; He, though naked, kept the garment of Christ; you,
+clothed in silk, have lost Christ&rsquo;s robe.&nbsp; Paul lies
+covered with the meanest dust, to rise in glory; you are crushed
+by wrought sepulchres of stone, to burn with all your
+works.&nbsp; Spare, I beseech you, yourselves; spare, at least,
+the riches which you love.&nbsp; Why do you wrap even your dead
+in golden vestments?&nbsp; Why does not ambition stop amid grief
+and tears?&nbsp; Cannot the corpses of the rich decay, save in
+silk?&nbsp; I beseech thee, whosoever thou art that readest this,
+to remember Hieronymus the sinner, who, if the Lord gave him
+choice, would much sooner choose Paul&rsquo;s tunic with his
+merits, than the purple of kings with their punishments.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>This is the story of Paul and Antony, as told by Jerome.&nbsp;
+But, in justice to Antony himself, it must be said that the
+sayings recorded of him seem to show that he was not the mere
+visionary ascetic which his biographers have made him.&nbsp; Some
+twenty sermons are attributed to him, seven of which only are
+considered to be genuine.&nbsp; A rule for monks, too, is called
+his: but, as it is almost certain that he could neither read nor
+write, we have no proof that any of these documents convey his
+actual language.&nbsp; If the seven sermons attributed to him be
+really his, it must be said for them that they are full of sound
+doctrine and vital religion, and worthy, as wholes, to be
+preached in any English church, if we only substitute for the
+word &ldquo;monk,&rdquo; the word &ldquo;man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there are records of Antony which represent him as a far
+more genial and human personage; full of a knowledge of human
+nature, and of a tenderness and sympathy, which account for his
+undoubted power over the minds of men; and showing, too, at
+times, a certain covert and &ldquo;pawky&rdquo; humour which puts
+us in mind, as does the humour of many of the Egyptian hermits,
+of the old-fashioned Scotch.&nbsp; These reminiscences are
+contained in the &ldquo;Words of the Elders,&rdquo; a series of
+anecdotes of the desert fathers collected by various hands; which
+are, after all, the most interesting and probably the most
+trustworthy accounts of them and their ways.&nbsp; I shall have
+occasion to quote them later.&nbsp; I insert here some among them
+which relate to Antony.</p>
+<h3>SAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE &ldquo;WORDS OF THE
+ELDERS.&rdquo;</h3>
+<p>A <span class="smcap">monk</span> gave away his wealth to the
+poor, but kept back some for himself.&nbsp; Antony said to him,
+&ldquo;Go to the village and buy meat, and bring it to me on thy
+bare back.&rdquo;&nbsp; He did so: and the dogs and birds
+attacked him, and tore him as well as the meat.&nbsp; Quoth
+Antony, &ldquo;So are those who renounce the world, and yet must
+needs have money, torn by d&aelig;mons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony heard high praise of a certain brother; but, when he
+tested him, he found that he was impatient under injury.&nbsp;
+Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Thou art like a house which has a gay porch,
+but is broken into by thieves through the back door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, as he sat in the desert, was weary in heart, and said,
+&ldquo;Lord, I long to be saved, but my wandering thoughts will
+not let me.&nbsp; Show me what I shall do.&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+looking up, he saw one like himself twisting ropes, and rising up
+to pray.&nbsp; And the angel (for it was one) said to him,
+&ldquo;Work like me, Antony, and you shall be saved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One asked him how he could please God.&nbsp; Quoth Antony,
+&ldquo;Have God always before thine eyes; whatever work thou
+doest, take example for it out of Holy Scripture: wherever thou
+stoppest, do not move thence in a hurry, but abide there in
+patience.&nbsp; If thou keepest these three things, thou shalt be
+saved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If the baker did not cover the
+mill-horse&rsquo;s eyes he would eat the corn, and take his own
+wages.&nbsp; So God covers our eyes, by leaving us to sordid
+thoughts, lest we should think of our own good works, and be
+puffed up in spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;I saw all the snares of the enemy spread
+over the whole earth.&nbsp; And I sighed, and said, &lsquo;Who
+can pass through these?&rsquo;&nbsp; And a voice came to me,
+saying, &lsquo;Humility alone can pass through, Antony, where the
+proud can in no wise go.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony was sitting in his cell, and a voice said to him,
+&ldquo;Thou hast not yet come to the stature of a currier, who
+lives in Alexandria.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he took his staff, and
+went down to Alexandria; and the currier, when he found him, was
+astonished at seeing so great a man.&nbsp; Said Antony,
+&ldquo;Tell me thy works; for on thy account have I come out of
+the desert.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he answered, &ldquo;I know not that
+I ever did any good; and, therefore, when I rise in the morning,
+I say that this whole city, from the greatest to the least, will
+enter into the kingdom of God for their righteousness: while I,
+for my sins, shall go to eternal pain.&nbsp; And this I say over
+again, from the bottom of my heart, when I lie down at
+night.&rdquo;&nbsp; When Antony heard that, he said, &ldquo;Like
+a good goldsmith, thou hast gained the kingdom of God sitting
+still in thy house; while I, as one without discretion, have been
+haunting the desert all my time, and yet not arrived at the
+measure of thy saying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If a monk could tell his elders how many
+steps he walks, or how many cups of water he drinks, in his cell,
+he ought to tell them, for fear of going wrong
+therein.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At Alexandria, Antony met one Didymus, most learned in the
+Scriptures, witty, and wise: but he was blind.&nbsp; Antony asked
+him, &ldquo;Art thou not grieved at thy blindness?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+He was silent: but being pressed by Antony, he confessed that he
+was sad thereat.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;I wonder that a
+prudent man grieves over the loss of a thing which ants, and
+flies, and gnats have, instead of rejoicing in that possession
+which the holy Apostles earned.&nbsp; For it is better to see
+with the spirit than with the flesh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A Father asked Antony, &ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Quoth the old man, &ldquo;Trust not in thine own righteousness;
+regret not the thing which is past; bridle thy tongue and thy
+stomach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;He who sits still in the desert is safe
+from three enemies: from hearing, from speech, from sight: and
+has to fight against only one, his own heart.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A young monk came and told Antony how he had seen some old men
+weary on their journey, and had bidden the wild asses to come and
+carry him, and they came.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;That monk
+looks to me like a ship laden with a precious cargo; but whether
+it will get into port is uncertain.&rdquo;&nbsp; And after some
+days he began to tear his hair and weep; and when they asked him
+why, he said, &ldquo;A great pillar of the Church has just
+fallen;&rdquo; and he sent brothers to see the young man, and
+found him sitting on his mat, weeping over a great sin which he
+had done; and he said, &ldquo;Tell Antony to give me ten
+days&rsquo; truce, and I hope I shall satisfy him;&rdquo; and in
+five days he was dead.</p>
+<p>Abbot Elias fell into temptation, and the brethren drove him
+out.&nbsp; Then he went to the mountain to Antony.&nbsp; After
+awhile, Antony sent him home to his brethren; but they would not
+receive him.&nbsp; Then the old man sent to them, and saying,
+&ldquo;A ship has been wrecked at sea, and lost all its cargo;
+and, with much toil, the ship is come empty to land.&nbsp; Will
+you sink it again in the sea?&rdquo;&nbsp; So they took Elias
+back.</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;There are some who keep their bodies in
+abstinence: but, because they have no discretion, they are far
+from God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A hunter came by, and saw Antony rejoicing with the brethren,
+and it displeased him.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Put an arrow in
+thy bow, and draw;&rdquo; and he did.&nbsp; Quoth Antony,
+&ldquo;Draw higher;&rdquo; and again, &ldquo;Draw higher
+still.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he said, &ldquo;If I overdraw, I shall
+break my bow.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;So it is in the
+work of God.&nbsp; If we stretch the brethren beyond measure,
+they fail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother said to Antony, &ldquo;Pray for me.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Quoth he, &ldquo;I cannot pity thee, nor God either, unless thou
+pitiest thyself, and prayest to God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;The Lord does not permit wars to arise in
+this generation, because he knows that men are weak, and cannot
+bear them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, as he considered the depths of the judgments of God,
+failed; and said, &ldquo;Lord, why do some die so early, and some
+live on to a decrepit age?&nbsp; Why are some needy, and others
+rich?&nbsp; Why are the unjust wealthy, and the just
+poor?&rdquo;&nbsp; And a voice came to him, &ldquo;Antony, look
+to thyself.&nbsp; These are the judgments of God, which are not
+fit for thee to know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony to Abbot Pastor, &ldquo;This is a man&rsquo;s
+great business&mdash;to lay each man his own fault on himself
+before the Lord, and to expect temptation to the last day of his
+life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If a man works a few days, and then is
+idle, and works again and is idle again, he does nothing, and
+will not possess the perseverance of patience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony to his disciples, &ldquo;If you try to keep
+silence, do not think that you are exercising a virtue, but that
+you are unworthy to speak.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Certain old men came once to Antony; and he wished to prove
+them, and began to talk of holy Scripture, and to ask them,
+beginning at the youngest, what this and that text meant.&nbsp;
+And each answered as best they could.&nbsp; But he kept on
+saying, &ldquo;You have not yet found it out.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at
+last he asked Abbot Joseph, &ldquo;And what dost thou think this
+text means?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Abbot Joseph, &ldquo;I do not
+know.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Abbot Joseph alone has
+found out the way, for he says he does not know it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;I do not now fear God, but love Him, for
+love drives out fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said again, &ldquo;Life and death are very near us; for if
+we gain our brother, we gain God: but if we cause our brother to
+offend, we sin against Christ.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A philosopher asked Antony, &ldquo;How art thou content,
+father, since thou hast not the comfort of books?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Quoth Antony, &ldquo;My book is the nature of created
+things.&nbsp; In it, when I choose, I can read the words of
+God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Brethren came to Antony, and asked of him a saying by which
+they might be saved.&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;Ye have heard the
+Scriptures, and know what Christ requires of you.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But they begged that he would tell them something of his
+own.&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;The Gospel says, &lsquo;If a man
+smite you on one cheek, turn to him the
+other.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; But they said that they could not do
+that.&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;You cannot turn the other cheek to
+him?&nbsp; Then let him smite you again on the same
+one.&rdquo;&nbsp; But they said they could not do that
+either.&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;If you cannot, at least do not
+return evil for evil.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they said that
+neither could they do that, quoth Antony to his disciples,
+&ldquo;Go, get them something to eat, for they are very
+weak.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he said to them, &ldquo;If you cannot do
+the one, and will not have the other, what do you want?&nbsp; As
+I see, what you want is prayer.&nbsp; That will heal your
+weakness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;He who would be free from his sins must
+be so by weeping and mourning; and he who would be built up in
+virtue must be built up by tears.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;When the stomach is full of meat,
+forthwith the great vices bubble out, according to that which the
+Saviour says: &lsquo;That which entereth into the mouth defileth
+not a man; but that which cometh out of the heart sinks a man in
+destruction.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>[This may be a somewhat paradoxical application of the text:
+but the last anecdote of Antony which I shall quote is full of
+wisdom and humanity.]</p>
+<p>A monk came from Alexandria, Eulogius by name, bringing with
+him a man afflicted with elephantiasis.&nbsp; Now Eulogius had
+been a scholar, learned, and rich, and had given away all he had
+save a very little, which he kept because he could not work with
+his own hands.</p>
+<p>And he told Antony how he had found that wretched man lying in
+the street fifteen years before, having lost then nearly every
+member save his tongue, and how he had taken him home to his
+cell, nursed him, bathed him, physicked him, fed him; and how the
+man had returned him nothing save slanders, curses, and insults;
+how he had insisted on having meat, and had had it; and on going
+out in public, and had company brought to him; and how he had at
+last demanded to be put down again whence he had been taken,
+always cursing and slandering.&nbsp; And now Eulogius could bear
+the man no longer, and was minded to take him at his word.</p>
+<p>Then said Antony with an angry voice, &ldquo;Wilt thou cast
+him out, Eulogius?&nbsp; He who remembers that he made him, will
+not cast him out.&nbsp; If thou cast him out, he will find a
+better friend than thee.&nbsp; God will choose some one who will
+take him up when he is cast away.&rdquo;&nbsp; Eulogius was
+terrified at these words, and held his peace.</p>
+<p>Then went Antony to the sick man, and shouted at him,
+&ldquo;Thou elephantiac, foul with mud and dirt, not worthy of
+the third heaven, wilt thou not stop shouting blasphemies against
+God?&nbsp; Dost thou not know that he who ministers to thee is
+Christ?&nbsp; How darest thou say such things against
+Christ?&rdquo;&nbsp; And he bade Eulogius and the sick man go
+back to their cell, and live in peace, and never part more.&nbsp;
+Both went back, and, after forty days, Eulogius died, and the
+sick man shortly after, &ldquo;altogether whole in
+spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+104</span>HILARION</h2>
+<p>I <span class="smcap">would</span> gladly, did space allow,
+give more biographies from among those of the Egyptian hermits:
+but it seems best, having shown the reader Antony as the father
+of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his great pupil Hilarion, the
+father of monachism in Palestine.&nbsp; His life stands written
+at length by St. Jerome, who himself died a monk at Bethlehem;
+and is composed happily in a less ambitious and less rugged style
+than that of Paul, not without elements of beauty, even of
+tragedy.</p>
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+<p>Remember me in thy holy prayers, glory and honour of virgins,
+nun Asella.&nbsp; Before beginning to write the life of the
+blessed Hilarion, I invoke the Holy Spirit which dwelt in him,
+that, as he largely bestowed virtues on Hilarion, he may give to
+me speech wherewith to relate them; so that his deeds may be
+equalled by my language.&nbsp; For those who (as Crispus says)
+&ldquo;have wrought virtues&rdquo; are held to have been worthily
+praised in proportion to the words in which famous intellects
+have been able to extol them.&nbsp; Alexander the Great, the
+Macedonian (whom Daniel calls either the brass, or the leopard,
+or the he-goat), on coming to the tomb of Achilles, &ldquo;Happy
+art thou, youth,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;who hast been blest with
+a great herald of thy worth&rdquo;&mdash;meaning Homer.&nbsp; But
+I have to tell the conversation and life of such and so great a
+man, that even Homer, were he here, would either envy my matter,
+or succumb under it.</p>
+<p>For although St. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamina in Cyprus, who
+had much intercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a
+short epistle, which is commonly read, yet it is one thing to
+praise the dead in general phrases, another to relate his special
+virtues.&nbsp; We therefore set to work rather to his advantage
+than to his injury; and despise those evil-speakers who lately
+carped at Paul, and will perhaps now carp at my Hilarion,
+unjustly blaming the former for his solitary life, and the latter
+for his intercourse with men; in order that the one, who was
+never seen, may be supposed not to have existed; the other, who
+was seen by many, may be held cheap.&nbsp; This was the way of
+their ancestors likewise, the Pharisees, who were neither
+satisfied with John&rsquo;s desert life and fasting, nor with the
+Lord Saviour&rsquo;s public life, eating and drinking.&nbsp; But
+I shall lay my hand to the work which I have determined, and pass
+by, with stopped ears, the hounds of Scylla.&nbsp; I pray that
+thou mayest persevere in Christ, and be mindful of me in thy
+prayers, most sacred virgin.</p>
+<h3>THE LIFE</h3>
+<p><span class="smcap">Hilarion</span> was born in the village of
+Thabatha, which lies about five miles to the south of Gaza, in
+Palestine.&nbsp; He had parents given to the worship of idols,
+and blossomed (as the saying is) a rose among the thorns.&nbsp;
+Sent by them to Alexandria, he was entrusted to a grammarian, and
+there, as far as his years allowed, gave proof of great intellect
+and good morals.&nbsp; He was soon dear to all, and skilled in
+the art of speaking.&nbsp; And, what is more than all, he
+believed in the Lord Jesus, and delighted neither in the madness
+of the circus, in the blood of the arena, or in the luxury of the
+theatre: but all his heart was in the congregation of the
+Church.</p>
+<p>But hearing the then famous name of Antony, which was carried
+throughout all Egypt, he was fired with a longing to visit him,
+and went to the desert.&nbsp; As soon as he saw him he changed
+his dress, and stayed with him about two months, watching the
+order of his life, and the purity of his manner; how frequent he
+was in prayers, how humble in receiving brethren, severe in
+reproving them, eager in exhorting them; and how no infirmity
+ever broke through his continence, and the coarseness of his
+food.&nbsp; But, unable to bear longer the crowd which assembled
+round Antony, for various diseases and attacks of devils, he said
+that it was not consistent to endure in the desert the crowds of
+cities, but that he must rather begin where Antony had
+begun.&nbsp; Antony, as a valiant man, was receiving the reward
+of victory: he had not yet begun to serve as a soldier.&nbsp; He
+returned, therefore, with certain monks to his own country; and,
+finding his parents dead, gave away part of his substance to the
+brethren, part to the poor, and kept nothing at all for himself,
+fearing what is told in the Acts of the Apostles, the example or
+punishment, of Ananias and Sapphira; and especially mindful of
+the Lord&rsquo;s saying&mdash;&ldquo;He that leaveth not all that
+he hath, he cannot be my disciple.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was then fifteen years old.&nbsp; So, naked, but armed in
+Christ, he entered the desert, which, seven miles from Maiuma,
+the port of Gaza, turns away to the left of those who go along
+the shore towards Egypt.&nbsp; And though the place was
+blood-stained by robbers, and his relations and friends warned
+him of the imminent danger, he despised death, in order to escape
+death.&nbsp; All wondered at his spirit, wondered at his
+youth.&nbsp; Save that a certain fire of the bosom and spark of
+faith glittered in his eyes, his cheeks were smooth, his body
+delicate and thin, unable to bear any injury, and liable to be
+overcome by even a light chill or heat.</p>
+<p>So, covering his limbs only with a sackcloth, and having a
+cloak of skin, which the blessed Antony had given him at
+starting, and a rustic cloak, between the sea and the swamp, he
+enjoyed the vast and terrible solitude, feeding on only fifteen
+figs after the setting of the sun; and because the region was, as
+has been said above, of ill-repute from robberies, no man had
+ever stayed before in that place.&nbsp; The devil, seeing what he
+was doing and whither he had gone, was tormented.&nbsp; And
+though he, who of old boasted, saying, &ldquo;I shall ascend into
+heaven, I shall sit above the stars of heaven, and shall be like
+unto the Most High,&rdquo; now saw that he had been conquered by
+a boy, and trampled under foot by him, ere, on account of his
+youth, he could commit sin.&nbsp; He therefore began to tempt his
+senses; but he, enraged with himself, and beating his breast with
+his fist, as if he could drive out thoughts by blows, &ldquo;I
+will force thee, mine ass,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;not to kick;
+and feed thee with straw, not barley.&nbsp; I will wear thee out
+with hunger and thirst; I will burden thee with heavy loads; I
+will hunt thee through heat and cold, till thou thinkest more of
+food than of play.&rdquo;&nbsp; He therefore sustained his
+fainting spirit with the juice of herbs and a few figs, after
+each three or four days, praying frequently, and singing psalms,
+and digging the ground with a mattock, to double the labour of
+fasting by that of work.&nbsp; At the same time, by weaving
+baskets of rushes, he imitated the discipline of the Egyptian
+monks, and the Apostle&rsquo;s saying&mdash;&ldquo;He that will
+not work, neither let him eat&rdquo;&mdash;till he was so
+attenuated, and his body so exhausted, that it scarce clung to
+his bones.</p>
+<p>One night he began to hear the crying <a
+name="citation108"></a><a href="#footnote108"
+class="citation">[108]</a> of infants, the bleating of sheep, the
+wailing of women, the roaring of lions, the murmur of an army,
+and utterly portentous and barbarous voices; so that he shrank
+frightened by the sound ere he saw aught.&nbsp; He understood
+these to be the insults of devils; and, falling on his knees, he
+signed the cross of Christ on his forehead, and armed with that
+helmet, and girt with the breastplate of faith, he fought more
+valiantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he shuddered to
+hear, and looking round him with anxious eyes: when, without
+warning, by the bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery
+horses rushing upon him.&nbsp; But when he had called on Jesus,
+the earth opened suddenly, and the whole pomp was swallowed up
+before his eyes.&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;The horse and his
+rider he hath drowned in the sea;&rdquo; and &ldquo;Some glory
+themselves in chariots, and some in horses: but we in the name of
+the Lord our God.&rdquo;&nbsp; Many were his temptations, and
+various, by day and night, the snares of the devils.&nbsp; If we
+were to tell them all, they would make the volume too long.&nbsp;
+How often did women appear to him; how often plenteous banquets
+when he was hungry.&nbsp; Sometimes as he prayed, a howling wolf
+ran past him, or a barking fox; or as he sang, a fight of
+gladiators made a show for him: and one of them, as if slain,
+falling at his feet, prayed for sepulture.&nbsp; He prayed once
+with his head bowed to the ground, and&mdash;as is the nature of
+man&mdash;his mind wandered from his prayer, and thought of I
+know not what, when a mocking rider leaped on his back, and
+spurring his sides, and whipping his neck, &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he
+cries, &ldquo;come, run! why do you sleep?&rdquo; and, laughing
+loudly over him, asked him if he were tired, or would have a feed
+of barley.</p>
+<p>So from his sixteenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltered
+from the heat and rain in a tiny cabin, which he had woven of
+rush and sedge.&nbsp; Afterwards he built a little cell, which
+remains to this day, four feet wide and five feet high&mdash;that
+is, lower than his own stature&mdash;and somewhat longer than his
+small body needed, so that you would believe it to be a tomb
+rather than a dwelling.&nbsp; He cut his hair only once a year,
+on Easter-day, and lay till his death on the bare ground and a
+layer of rushes, never washing the sack in which he was clothed,
+and saying that it was superfluous to seek for cleanliness in
+haircloth.&nbsp; Nor did he change his tunic, till the first was
+utterly in rags.&nbsp; He knew the Scriptures by heart, and
+recited them after his prayers and psalms as if God were
+present.&nbsp; And, because it would take up too much time to
+tell his great deeds one by one, I will give a short account of
+them.</p>
+<p>[Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those
+attributed to St. Antony, and, indeed, to all these great Hermit
+Fathers.&nbsp; But it is unnecessary to relate more wonders which
+the reader cannot be expected to believe.&nbsp; These miracles,
+however, according to St. Jerome, were the foundations of
+Hilarion&rsquo;s fame and public career.&nbsp; For he says,
+&ldquo;When they were noised abroad, people flowed to him eagerly
+from Syria to Egypt, so that many believed in Christ, and
+professed themselves to be monks&mdash;for no one had known of a
+monk in Syria before the holy Hilarion.&nbsp; He was the first
+founder and teacher of this conversation and study in the
+province.&nbsp; The Lord Jesus had in Egypt the old man Antony;
+he had in Palestine the young Hilarion . . .&nbsp; He was raised,
+indeed, by the Lord to such a glory, that the blessed Antony,
+hearing of his conversation, wrote to him, and willingly received
+his letters; and if rich people came to him from the parts of
+Syria, he said to them, &lsquo;Why have you chosen to trouble
+yourselves by coming so far, when you have at home my son
+Hilarion?&rsquo;&nbsp; So by his example innumerable monasteries
+arose throughout all Palestine, and all monks came eagerly to him
+. . . But what a care he had, not to pass by any brother, however
+humble or however poor, may be shown by this; that once going
+into the Desert of Kadesh, to visit one of his disciples, he
+came, with an infinite crowd of monks, to Elusa, on the very day,
+as it chanced, on which a yearly solemnity had gathered all the
+people of the town to the Temple of Venus; for they honour her on
+account of the morning star, to the worship of which the nation
+of the Saracens is devoted.&nbsp; The town itself too is said to
+be in great part semi-barbarous, on account of its remote
+situation.&nbsp; Hearing, then, that the holy Hilarion was
+passing by&mdash;for he had often cured Saracens possessed with
+d&aelig;mons&mdash;they came out to meet him in crowds, with
+their wives and children, bowing their necks, and crying in the
+Syrian tongue, &lsquo;Barech!&rsquo; that is,
+&lsquo;Bless!&rsquo;&nbsp; He received them courteously and
+humbly, entreating them to worship God rather than stones, and
+wept abundantly, looking up to heaven, and promising them that,
+if they would believe in Christ, he would come oftener to
+them.&nbsp; Wonderful was the grace of the Lord.&nbsp; They would
+not let him depart till he had laid the foundations of a future
+church, and their priest, crowned as he was, had been consecrated
+with the sign of Christ.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>He was now sixty-three years old.&nbsp; He saw about him a
+great monastery, a multitude of brethren, and crowds who came to
+be healed of diseases and unclean spirits, filling the solitude
+around; but he wept daily, and remembered with incredible regret
+his ancient life.&nbsp; &ldquo;I have returned to the
+world,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and received my reward in this
+life.&nbsp; All Palestine and the neighbouring provinces think me
+to be worth somewhat; while I possess a farm and household goods,
+under the pretext of the brethren&rsquo;s advantage.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+On which the brethren, and especially Hesychius, who bore him a
+wondrous love, watched him narrowly.</p>
+<p>When he had lived thus sadly for two years, Arist&aelig;neta,
+the Prefect&rsquo;s wife, came to him, wishing him to go with her
+to Antony, &ldquo;I would go,&rdquo; he said, weeping, &ldquo;if
+I were not held in the prison of this monastery, and if it were
+of any use.&nbsp; For two days since, the whole world was robbed
+of such a father.&rdquo;&nbsp; She believed him, and
+stopped.&nbsp; And Antony&rsquo;s death was confirmed a few days
+after.&nbsp; Others may wonder at the signs and portents which he
+did, at his incredible abstinence, his silence, his miracles: I
+am astonished at nothing so much as that he was able to trample
+under foot that glory and honour.</p>
+<p>Bishops and clergy, monks and Christian matrons (a great
+temptation), people of the common sort, great men, too, and
+judges crowded to him, to receive from him blessed bread or
+oil.&nbsp; But he was thinking of nothing but the desert, till
+one day he determined to set out, and taking an ass (for he was
+so shrunk with fasting that he could hardly walk), he tried to go
+his way.&nbsp; The news got wind; the desolation and destruction
+of Palestine would ensue; ten thousand souls, men and women,
+tried to stop his way; but he would not hear them.&nbsp; Smiting
+on the ground with his staff, he said, &ldquo;I will not make my
+God a liar.&nbsp; I cannot bear to see churches ruined, the
+altars of Christ trampled down, the blood of my sons
+spilt.&rdquo;&nbsp; All who heard thought that some secret
+revelation had been made to him: but yet they would not let him
+go.&nbsp; Whereon he would neither eat nor drink, and for seven
+days he persevered fasting, till he had his wish, and set out for
+Bethulia, with forty monks, who could march without food till
+sundown.&nbsp; On the fifth day he came to Pelusium, then to the
+camp Thebatrum, to see Dracontius; and then to Babylon to see
+Philo.&nbsp; These two were bishops and confessors exiled by
+Constantius, who favoured the Arian heresy.&nbsp; Then he came to
+Aphroditon, where he met Barsanes the deacon, who used to carry
+water to Antony on dromedaries, and heard from him that the
+anniversary Antony&rsquo;s death was near, and would be
+celebrated by a vigil at his tomb.&nbsp; Then through a vast and
+horrible wilderness, he went for three days to a very high
+mountain, and found there two monks, Isaac and Pelusianus, of
+whom Isaac had been Antony&rsquo;s interpreter.</p>
+<p>A high and rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at
+its foot.&nbsp; Some of them the sand sucked up; some formed a
+little rill, with palms without number on its banks.&nbsp; There
+you might have seen the old man wandering to and fro with
+Antony&rsquo;s disciples.&nbsp; &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; they said,
+&ldquo;he used to sing, here to pray, here to work, here to sit
+when tired.&nbsp; These vines, these shrubs, he planted himself;
+that plot he laid out with his own hands.&nbsp; This pond to
+water the garden he made with heavy toil; that hoe he kept for
+many years.&rdquo;&nbsp; Hilarion lay on his bed, and kissed the
+couch, as if it were still warm.&nbsp; Antony&rsquo;s cell was
+only large enough to let a man lie down in it; and on the
+mountain top, reached by a difficult and winding stair, were two
+other cells of the same size, cut in the stony rock, to which he
+used to retire from the visitors and disciples, when they came to
+the garden.&nbsp; &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Isaac, &ldquo;this
+orchard, with shrubs and vegetables.&nbsp; Three years since a
+troop of wild asses laid it waste.&nbsp; He bade one of their
+leaders stop; and beat it with his staff.&nbsp; &lsquo;Why do you
+eat,&rsquo; he asked it, &lsquo;what you did not
+sow?&rsquo;&nbsp; And after that the asses, though they came to
+drink the waters, never touched his plants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Hilarion asked them to show him Antony&rsquo;s
+grave.&nbsp; They led him apart; but whether they showed it to
+him, no man knows.&nbsp; They hid it, they said, by
+Antony&rsquo;s command, lest one Pergamius, who was the richest
+man of those parts, should take the corpse to his villa, and
+build a chapel over it.</p>
+<p>Then he went back to Aphroditon, and with only two brothers,
+dwelt in the desert, in such abstinence and silence that (so he
+said) he then first began to serve Christ.&nbsp; Now it was then
+three years since the heaven had been shut, and the earth dried
+up: so that they said commonly, the very elements mourned the
+death of Antony.&nbsp; But Hilarion&rsquo;s fame spread to them;
+and a great multitude, brown and shrunken with famine, cried to
+him for rain, as to the blessed Antony&rsquo;s successor.&nbsp;
+He saw them, and grieved over them; and lifting up his hand to
+heaven, obtained rain at once.&nbsp; But the thirsty and sandy
+land, as soon as it was watered by showers, sent forth such a
+crowd of serpents and venomous animals that people without number
+were stung, and would have died, had they not run together to
+Hilarion.&nbsp; With oil blessed by him, the husbandmen and
+shepherds touched their wounds, and all were surely healed.</p>
+<p>But when he saw that he was marvellously honoured, he went to
+Alexandria, meaning to cross the desert to the further
+oasis.&nbsp; And because since he was a monk he had never stayed
+in a city, he turned aside to some brethren known to him in the
+Brucheion <a name="citation115"></a><a href="#footnote115"
+class="citation">[115]</a> not far from Alexandria.&nbsp; They
+received him with joy: but, when night came on, they suddenly
+heard him bid his disciples saddle the ass.&nbsp; In vain they
+entreated, threw themselves across the threshold.&nbsp; His only
+answer was, that he was hastening away, lest he should bring them
+into trouble; they would soon know that he had not departed
+without good reason.&nbsp; The next day, men of Gaza came with
+the Prefect&rsquo;s lictors, burst into the monastery, and when
+they found him not&mdash;&ldquo;Is it not true,&rdquo; they said,
+&ldquo;what we heard?&nbsp; He is a sorcerer, and knows the
+future.&rdquo;&nbsp; For the citizens of Gaza, after Hilarion was
+gone, and Julian had succeeded to the empire, had destroyed his
+monastery, and begged from the Emperor the death of Hilarion and
+Hesychius.&nbsp; So letters had been sent forth, to seek them
+throughout the world.</p>
+<p>So Hilarion went by the pathless wilderness into the Oasis; <a
+name="citation116"></a><a href="#footnote116"
+class="citation">[116]</a> and after a year, more or
+less&mdash;because his fame had gone before him even there, and
+he could not lie hid in the East&mdash;he was minded to sail away
+to lonely islands, that the sea at least might hide what the land
+would not.</p>
+<p>But just then Hadrian, his disciple, came from Palestine,
+telling him that Julian was slain, and that a Christian emperor
+was reigning; so that he ought to return to the relics of his
+monastery.&nbsp; But he abhorred the thought; and, hiring a
+camel, went over the vast desert to Par&aelig;tonia, a sea town
+of Libya.&nbsp; Then the wretched Hadrian, wishing to go back to
+Palestine and get himself glory under his master&rsquo;s name,
+packed up all that the brethren had sent by him to his master,
+and went secretly away.&nbsp; But&mdash;as a terror to those who
+despise their masters&mdash;he shortly after died of
+jaundice.</p>
+<p>Then, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail
+for Sicily.&nbsp; And when, almost in the middle of Adria, <a
+name="citation117a"></a><a href="#footnote117a"
+class="citation">[117a]</a> he was going to sell the Gospels
+which he had written out with his own hand when young, to pay his
+fare withal, then the captain&rsquo;s son was possessed with a
+devil, and cried out, &ldquo;Hilarion, servant of God, why can we
+not be safe from thee even at sea?&nbsp; Give me a little respite
+till I come to the shore, lest, if I be cast out here, I fall
+headlong into the abyss.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;If my
+God lets thee stay, stay.&nbsp; But if he cast thee out, why dost
+thou lay the blame on me, a sinner and a beggar?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then he made the captain and the crew promise not to betray him:
+and the devil was cast out.&nbsp; But the captain would take no
+fare when he saw that they had nought but those Gospels, and the
+clothes on their backs.&nbsp; And so Hilarion came to Pachynum, a
+cape of Sicily, <a name="citation117b"></a><a
+href="#footnote117b" class="citation">[117b]</a> and fled twenty
+miles inland into a deserted farm; and there every day gathered a
+bundle of firewood, and put it on Zananas&rsquo;s back, who took
+it to the town, and bought a little bread thereby.</p>
+<p>But it happened, according to that which is written, &ldquo;A
+city set on an hill cannot be hid,&rdquo; one Scutarius was
+tormented by a devil in the Basilica of St. Peter at Rome; and
+the unclean spirit cried out in him, &ldquo;A few days since
+Hilarion, the servant of Christ, landed in Sicily, and no man
+knows him, and he thinks himself hid.&nbsp; I will go and betray
+him.&rdquo;&nbsp; And forthwith he took ship with his slaves, and
+came to Pachynum, and, by the leading of the devil, threw himself
+down before the old man&rsquo;s hut, and was cured.</p>
+<p>The frequency of his signs in Sicily drew to him sick people
+and religious men in multitudes; and one of the chief men was
+cured of dropsy the same day that he came, and offered Hilarion
+boundless gifts: but he obeyed the Saviour&rsquo;s saying,
+&ldquo;Freely ye have received; freely give.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>While this was happening in Sicily, Hesychius, his disciple,
+was seeking the old man through the world, searching the shores,
+penetrating the desert, and only certain that, wherever he was,
+he could not long be hid.&nbsp; So, after three years were past,
+he heard at Methone <a name="citation118"></a><a
+href="#footnote118" class="citation">[118]</a> from a Jew, who
+was selling old clothes, that a prophet of the Christians had
+appeared in Sicily, working such wonders that he was thought to
+be one of the old saints.&nbsp; But he could give no description
+of him, having only heard common report.&nbsp; He sailed for
+Pachynum, and there, in a cottage on the shore, heard of
+Hilarion&rsquo;s fame&mdash;that which most surprised all being
+that, after so many signs and miracles, he had not accepted even
+a bit of bread from any man.</p>
+<p>So, &ldquo;not to make the story too long,&rdquo; as says St.
+Jerome, Hesychius fell at his master&rsquo;s knees, and watered
+his feet with tears, till at last he raised him up.&nbsp; But two
+or three days after he heard from Zananas, how the old man could
+dwell no longer in these regions, but was minded to go to some
+barbarous nation, where both his name and his speech should be
+unknown.&nbsp; So he took him to Epidaurus, <a
+name="citation119a"></a><a href="#footnote119a"
+class="citation">[119a]</a> a city of Dalmatia, where he lay a
+few days in a little farm, and yet could not be hid; for a dragon
+of wondrous size&mdash;one of those which, in the country speech,
+they call boas, because they are so huge that they can swallow an
+ox&mdash;laid waste the province, and devoured not only herds and
+flocks, but husbandmen and shepherds, which he drew to him by the
+force of his breath. <a name="citation119b"></a><a
+href="#footnote119b" class="citation">[119b]</a>&nbsp; Hilarion
+commanded a pile of wood to be prepared, and having prayed to
+Christ, and called the beast forth, commanded him to ascend the
+pile, and having put fire under, burnt him before all the
+people.&nbsp; Then fretting over what he should do, or whither he
+should turn, he went alone over the world in imagination, and
+mourned that, when his tongue was silent, his miracles still
+spoke.</p>
+<p>In those days, at the earthquake over the whole world, which
+befell after Julian&rsquo;s death, the sea broke its bounds; and,
+as if God was threatening another flood, or all was returning to
+the prim&aelig;val chaos, ships were carried up steep rocks, and
+hung there.&nbsp; But when the Epidauritans saw roaring waves and
+mountains of water borne towards the shore, fearing lest the town
+should be utterly overthrown, they went out to the old man, and,
+as if they were leading him out to battle, stationed him on the
+shore.&nbsp; And when he had marked three signs of the Cross upon
+the sand, and stretched out his hands against the waves, it is
+past belief to what a height the sea swelled, and stood up before
+him, and then, raging long as if indignant at the barrier, fell
+back little by little into itself.</p>
+<p>All Epidaurus, and all that region, talk of this to this day;
+and mothers teach it their children, that they may hand it down
+to posterity.&nbsp; Truly, that which was said to the Apostles,
+&ldquo;If ye believe, ye shall say to this mountain, Be removed,
+and cast into the sea; and it shall be done,&rdquo; can be
+fulfilled even to the letter, if we have the faith of the
+Apostles, and such as the Lord commanded them to have.&nbsp; For
+which is more strange, that a mountain should descend into the
+sea; or that mountains of water should stiffen of a sudden, and,
+firm as a rock only at an old man&rsquo;s feet, should flow
+softly everywhere else?&nbsp; All the city wondered; and the
+greatness of the sign was bruited abroad even at Salo.</p>
+<p>When the old man discovered that, he fled secretly by night in
+a little boat, and finding a merchantman after two days, sailed
+for Cyprus.&nbsp; Between Male&aelig; and Cythera <a
+name="citation121"></a><a href="#footnote121"
+class="citation">[121]</a> they were met by pirates, who had left
+their vessels under the shore, and came up in two large galleys,
+worked not with sails, but oars.&nbsp; As the rowers swept the
+billows, all on board began to tremble, weep, run about, get
+handspikes ready, and, as if one messenger was not enough, vie
+with each other in telling the old man that pirates were at
+hand.&nbsp; He looked out at them and smiled.&nbsp; Then turning
+to his disciples, &ldquo;O ye of little faith,&rdquo; he said;
+&ldquo;wherefore do ye doubt?&nbsp; Are these more in number than
+Pharaoh&rsquo;s army?&nbsp; Yet they were all drowned when God so
+willed.&rdquo;&nbsp; While he spoke, the hostile keels, with
+foaming beaks, were but a short stone&rsquo;s throw off.&nbsp; He
+then stood on the ship&rsquo;s bow, and stretching out his hand
+against them, &ldquo;Let it be enough,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to
+have come thus far.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>O wondrous faith!&nbsp; The boats instantly sprang back, and
+made stern-way, although the oars impelled them in the opposite
+direction.&nbsp; The pirates were astonished, having no wish to
+return back-foremost, and struggled with all their might to reach
+the ship; but were carried to the shore again, much faster than
+they had come.</p>
+<p>I pass over the rest, lest by telling every story I make the
+volume too long.&nbsp; This only I will say, that, while he
+sailed prosperously through the Cyclades, he heard the voices of
+foul spirits, calling here and there out of the towns and
+villages, and running together on the beaches.&nbsp; So he came
+to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous once in poets&rsquo; songs,
+which now, shaken down by frequent earthquakes, only shows what
+it has been of yore by the foundations of its ruins.&nbsp; There
+he dwelt meanly near the second milestone out of the city,
+rejoicing much that he was living quietly for a few days.&nbsp;
+But not three weeks were past, ere throughout the whole island
+whosoever had unclean spirits began to cry that Hilarion the
+servant of Christ was come, and that they must hasten to
+him.&nbsp; Salonica, Curium, Lapetha, and the other towns, all
+cried this together, most saying that they knew Hilarion, and
+that he was truly a servant of God; but where he was they knew
+not.&nbsp; Within a month, nearly 200 men and women were gathered
+together to him.&nbsp; Whom when he saw, grieving that they would
+not suffer him to rest, raging, as it were to revenge himself, he
+scourged them with such an instancy of prayer, that some were
+cured at once, some after two or three days, and all within a
+week.</p>
+<p>So staying there two years, and always meditating flight, he
+sent Hesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, visit the
+ashes of the monastery, and return in the spring.&nbsp; When he
+returned, and Hilarion was longing to sail again to
+Egypt,&mdash;that is, to the cattle pastures, <a
+name="citation123a"></a><a href="#footnote123a"
+class="citation">[123a]</a> because there is no Christian there,
+but only a fierce and barbarous folk,&mdash;he persuaded the old
+man rather to withdraw into some more secret spot in the island
+itself.&nbsp; And looking round it long till he had examined it
+all over, he led him away twelve miles from the sea, among lonely
+and rough mountains, where they could hardly climb up, creeping
+on hands and knees.&nbsp; When they were within, they beheld a
+spot terrible and very lonely, surrounded with trees, which had,
+too, waters falling from the brow of a cliff, and a most pleasant
+little garden, and many fruit-trees&mdash;the fruit of which,
+however, Hilarion never ate&mdash;and near it the ruin of a very
+ancient temple, <a name="citation123b"></a><a
+href="#footnote123b" class="citation">[123b]</a> out of which (so
+he and his disciples averred) the voices of so many d&aelig;mons
+resounded day and night, that you would have fancied an army
+there.&nbsp; With which he was exceedingly delighted, because he
+had his foes close to him; and dwelt therein five years; and
+(while Hesychius often visited him) he was much cheered up in
+this last period of his life, because owing to the roughness and
+difficulty of the ground, and the multitude of ghosts (as was
+commonly reported), few, or none, ever dare climb up to him.</p>
+<p>But one day, going out of the little garden, he saw a man
+paralytic in all his limbs, lying before the gate; and having
+asked Hesychius who he was, and how he had come, he was told that
+the man was the steward of a small estate, and that to him the
+garden, in which they were, belonged.&nbsp; Hilarion, weeping
+over him, and stretching a hand to him as he lay, said, &ldquo;I
+say to thee, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, arise and
+walk.&rdquo;&nbsp; Wonderful was the rapidity of the
+effect.&nbsp; The words were yet in his mouth, when the limbs,
+strengthened, raised the man upon his feet.&nbsp; As soon as it
+was known, the needs of many conquered the difficulty of the
+ground, and the want of a path, while all in the neighbourhood
+watched nothing so carefully, as that he should not by some plan
+slip away from them.&nbsp; For the report had been spread about
+him, that he could not remain long in the same place; which
+nevertheless he did not do from any caprice, or childishness, but
+to escape honour and importunity; for he always longed after
+silence, and an ignoble life.</p>
+<p>So, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was
+absent, he wrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his
+own hand, leaving to Hesychius all his riches; namely, his
+Gospel-book, and a sackcloth-shirt, hood, and mantle.&nbsp; For
+his servant had died a few days before.&nbsp; Many religious men
+came to him from Paphos while he was sick, especially because
+they had heard that he had said that now he was going to migrate
+to the Lord, and be freed from the chains of the body.&nbsp;
+There came also Constantia, a high-born lady, whose son-in-law
+and daughter he had delivered from death by anointing them with
+oil.&nbsp; And he made them all swear, that he should not be kept
+an hour after his death, but covered up with earth in that same
+garden, clothed, as he was, in his haircloth shirt, hood, and
+rustic cloak.&nbsp; And now little heat was left in his body, and
+nothing of a living man was left, except his reason: and yet,
+with open eyes, he went on saying, &ldquo;Go forth, what fearest
+thou?&nbsp; Go forth, my soul, what doubtest thou?&nbsp; Nigh
+seventy years hast thou served Christ, and dost thou fear
+death?&rdquo;&nbsp; With these words, he breathed out his
+soul.&nbsp; They covered him forthwith in earth, and told them in
+the city that he was buried, before it was known that he was
+dead.</p>
+<p>The holy man Hesychius heard this in Palestine; reached
+Cyprus; and pretending, in order to prevent suspicion on the part
+of the neighbours, who guarded the spot diligently, that he
+wished to dwell in that same garden, he, after some ten months,
+with extreme peril of his life, stole the corpse.&nbsp; He
+carried it to Maiuma, followed by whole crowds of monks and
+townsfolk, and placed it in the old monastery, with the shirt,
+hood, and cloak unhurt; the whole body perfect, as if alive, and
+fragrant with such strong odour, that it seemed to have had
+unguents poured over it.</p>
+<p>I think that I ought not, in the end of my book, to be silent
+about the devotion of that most holy woman Constantia, who,
+hearing that the body of Hilarion, the servant of God, was gone
+to Palestine, straightway gave up the ghost, proving by her very
+death her true love for the servant of God.&nbsp; For she was
+wont to pass nights in watching his sepulchre, and to converse
+with him as if he were present, in order to assist her
+prayers.&nbsp; You may see, even to this day, a wonderful
+contention between the folk of Palestine and the Cypriots, the
+former saying that they have the body, the latter that they have
+the soul, of Hilarion.&nbsp; And yet, in both places, great signs
+are worked daily; but most in the little garden in Cyprus;
+perhaps because he loved that place the best.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Such is the story of Hilarion.&nbsp; His name still lingers in
+&ldquo;the place he loved the best.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;To this
+day,&rdquo; I quote this fact from M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+work, &ldquo;the Cypriots, confounding in their memories legends
+of good and of evil, the victories of the soul and the triumph of
+the senses, give to the ruins of one of those strong castles
+built by the Lusignans, which command their isle, the double name
+of the Castle of St. Hilarion, and the Castle of the God of
+Love.&rdquo;&nbsp; But how intense must have been the longing for
+solitude which drove the old man to travel on foot from Syria to
+the Egyptian desert, across the pathless westward waste, even to
+the Oasis and the utmost limits of the Egyptian province; and
+then to Sicily, to the Adriatic, and at last to a distant isle of
+Greece.&nbsp; And shall we blame him for that longing?&nbsp; He
+seems to have done his duty earnestly, according to his own
+light, towards his fellow-creatures whenever he met them.&nbsp;
+But he seems to have found that noise and crowd, display and
+honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own soul; and in
+order that he might be a better man he desired again and again to
+flee, that he might collect himself, and be alone with Nature and
+with God.&nbsp; We, here in England, like the old Greeks and
+Romans, dwellers in the busy mart of civilized life, have got to
+regard mere bustle as so integral an element of human life, that
+we consider a love of solitude a mark of eccentricity, and, if we
+meet any one who loves to be alone, are afraid that he must needs
+be going mad: and that with too great solitude comes the danger
+of too great self-consciousness, and even at last of insanity,
+none can doubt.&nbsp; But still we must remember, on the other
+hand, that without solitude, without contemplation, without
+habitual collection and re-collection of our own selves from time
+to time, no great purpose is carried out, and no great work can
+be done; and that it is the bustle and hurry of our modern life
+which causes shallow thought, unstable purpose, and wasted
+energy, in too many who would be better and wiser, stronger and
+happier, if they would devote more time to silence and
+meditation; if they would commune with their own heart in their
+chamber, and be still.&nbsp; Even in art and in mechanical
+science, those who have done great work upon the earth have been
+men given to solitary meditation.&nbsp; When Brindley, the
+engineer, it is said, had a difficult problem to solve, he used
+to go to bed, and stay there till he had worked it out.&nbsp;
+Turner, the greatest nature-painter of this or any other age,
+spent hours upon hours in mere contemplation of nature, without
+using his pencil at all.&nbsp; It is said of him that he was seen
+to spend a whole day, sitting upon a rock, and throwing pebbles
+into a lake; and when at evening his fellow painters showed their
+day&rsquo;s sketches, and rallied him upon having done nothing,
+he answered them, &ldquo;I have done this at least: I have learnt
+how a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And if this silent labour, this steadfast thought are required
+even for outward arts and sciences, how much more for the highest
+of all arts, the deepest of all sciences, that which involves the
+questions&mdash;who are we? and where are we? who is God? and
+what are we to God, and He to us?&mdash;namely, the science of
+being good, which deals not with time merely, but with
+eternity.&nbsp; No retirement, no loneliness, no period of
+earnest and solemn meditation, can be misspent which helps us
+towards that goal.</p>
+<p>And therefore it was that Hilarion longed to be alone; alone
+with God; and with Nature, which spoke to him of God.&nbsp; For
+these old hermits, though they neither talked nor wrote
+concerning scenery, nor painted pictures of it as we do now, had
+many of them a clear and intense instinct of the beauty and the
+meaning of outward Nature; as Antony surely had when he said that
+the world around was his book, wherein he read the mysteries of
+God.&nbsp; Hilarion seems, from his story, to have had a special
+craving for the sea.&nbsp; Perhaps his early sojourn on the low
+sandhills of the Philistine shore, as he watched the tideless
+Mediterranean, rolling and breaking for ever upon the same beach,
+had taught him to say with the old prophet as he thought of the
+wicked and still half idolatrous cities of the Philistine shore,
+&ldquo;Fear ye not? saith the Lord; Will ye not tremble at my
+presence who have placed the sand for the bound of the sea, for a
+perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it?&nbsp; And though the
+waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail; though
+they roar, yet can they not pass over.&nbsp; But this people has
+a revolted and rebellious heart, they are revolted and
+gone.&rdquo;&nbsp; Perhaps again, looking down from the sunny
+Sicilian cliffs of Taormino, or through the pine-clad gulfs and
+gullies of the Cypriote hills upon the blue Mediterranean
+below,</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;And watching from his mountain wall<br />
+The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl,&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>he had enjoyed and profited by all those images which that
+sight has called up in so many minds before and since.&nbsp; To
+him it may be, as to the Psalmist, the storm-swept sea pictured
+the instability of mortal things, while secure upon his cliff he
+said with the Psalmist, &ldquo;The Lord hath set my feet upon a
+rock, and ordered my goings;&rdquo; and again, &ldquo;The wicked
+are like a troubled sea, casting up mire and dirt.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Often, again, looking upon that far horizon, must his soul have
+been drawn, as many a soul has been drawn since, to it, and
+beyond it, as it were into a region of boundless freedom and
+perfect peace, while he said again with David, &ldquo;Oh that I
+had wings like a dove; then would I flee away and be at
+rest!&rdquo; and so have found, in the contemplation of the wide
+ocean, a substitute at least for the contemplation of those
+Eastern deserts which seemed the proper home for the solitary and
+meditative philosopher.</p>
+<p>For indeed in no northern country can such situations be found
+for the monastic cell as can be found in those great deserts
+which stretch from Syria to Arabia, from Arabia to Egypt, from
+Egypt to Africa properly so called.&nbsp; Here and there a
+northern hermit found, as Hilarion found, a fitting home by the
+seaside, on some lonely island or storm-beat rock, like St.
+Cuthbert, off the coast of Northumberland; like St. Rule, on his
+rock at St. Andrew&rsquo;s; and St. Columba, with his
+ever-venerable company of missionaries, on Iona.&nbsp; But
+inland, the fens and the forests were foul, unwholesome,
+depressing, the haunts of fever, ague, delirium, as St. Guthlac
+found at Crowland, and St. Godric at Finkhale. <a
+name="citation130"></a><a href="#footnote130"
+class="citation">[130]</a>&nbsp; The vast pine-woods which clothe
+the Alpine slopes, the vast forests of beech and oak which then
+spread over France and Germany, gave in time shelter to many a
+holy hermit.&nbsp; But their gloom, their unwholesomeness, and
+the severity of the climate, produced in them, as in most
+northern ascetics, a temper of mind more melancholy, and often
+more fierce; more given to passionate devotion, but more given
+also to dark superstition and cruel self-torture, than the genial
+climate of the desert produced in old monks of the East.&nbsp;
+When we think of St. Antony upon his mountain, we must not
+picture to ourselves, unless we, too, have been in the East, such
+a mountain as we have ever seen.&nbsp; We must not think of a
+brown northern moorland, sad, savage, storm-swept, snow-buried,
+save in the brief and uncertain summer months.&nbsp; We must not
+picture to ourselves an Alp, with thundering avalanches, roaring
+torrents, fierce alternations of heat and cold, uninhabitable by
+mortal man, save during that short period of the year when the
+maidens in the sennhutt watch the cattle upon the upland
+pastures.&nbsp; We must picture to ourselves mountains blazing
+day after day, month after month, beneath the glorious sun and
+cloudless sky, in an air so invigorating that the Arabs can still
+support life there upon a few dates each day; and where, as has
+been said,&mdash;&ldquo;Man needs there hardly to eat, drink, or
+sleep, for the act of breathing will give life enough;&rdquo; an
+atmosphere of such telescopic clearness as to explain many of the
+strange stories which have been lately told of Antony&rsquo;s
+seemingly preternatural powers of vision; a colouring, which,
+when painters dare to put it on canvas, seems to our eyes,
+accustomed to the quiet greys and greens of England, exaggerated
+and impossible&mdash;distant mountains, pink and lilac, quivering
+in pale blue haze&mdash;vast sheets of yellow sand, across which
+the lonely rock or a troop of wild asses or gazelles throw
+intense blue-black shadows&mdash;rocks and cliffs not shrouded,
+as here, in soil, much less in grass and trees, or spotted with
+lichens and stained with veins; but keeping each stone its
+natural colour, as it wastes&mdash;if, indeed, it wastes at
+all&mdash;under the action of the all but rainless air, which has
+left the paintings on the old Egyptian temples fresh and clear
+for thousands of years; rocks, orange and purple, black, white,
+and yellow; and again and again beyond them <a
+name="citation131"></a><a href="#footnote131"
+class="citation">[131]</a> glimpses, it may be, of the black
+Nile, and of the long green garden of Egypt, and of the dark blue
+sea.&nbsp; The eastward view from Antony&rsquo;s old home must be
+one of the most glorious in the world, save for its want of
+verdure and of life.&nbsp; For Antony, as he looked across the
+blue waters of the Gulf of Akaba, across which, far above, the
+Israelites had passed in old times, could see the sacred goal of
+their pilgrimage, the red granite peaks of Sinai, flaming against
+the blue sky with that intensity of hue which is scarcely
+exaggerated, it is said, by the bright scarlet colour in which
+Sinai is always painted in medi&aelig;val illuminations.</p>
+<p>But the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us,
+was not, of course, what produced the deepest effect upon the
+minds of those old hermits.&nbsp; They enjoyed Nature, not so
+much for her beauty, as for her perfect peace.&nbsp; Day by day
+the rocks remained the same.&nbsp; Silently out of the Eastern
+desert, day by day, the rising sun threw aloft those arrows of
+light, which the old Greeks had named &ldquo;the rosy fingers of
+the dawn.&rdquo;&nbsp; Silently he passed in full blaze almost
+above their heads throughout the day; and silently he dipped
+behind the western desert in a glory of crimson and orange, green
+and purple; and without an interval of twilight, in a moment, all
+the land was dark, and the stars leapt out, not twinkling as in
+our damper climate here, but hanging like balls of white fire in
+that purple southern night, through which one seems to look
+beyond the stars into the infinite abyss, and towards the throne
+of God himself.&nbsp; Day after day, night after night, that
+gorgeous pageant passed over the poor hermit&rsquo;s head without
+a sound; and though sun and moon and planet might change their
+places as the year rolled round, the earth beneath his feet
+seemed not to change.&nbsp; Every morning he saw the same peaks
+in the distance, the same rocks, the same sand-heaps around his
+feet.&nbsp; He never heard the tinkle of a running stream.&nbsp;
+For weeks together he did not even hear the rushing of the
+wind.&nbsp; Now and then a storm might sweep up the pass,
+whirling the sand in eddies, and making the desert for a while
+literally a &ldquo;howling wilderness;&rdquo; and when that was
+passed all was as it had been before.&nbsp; The very change of
+seasons must have been little marked to him, save by the motions,
+if he cared to watch them, of the stars above; for vegetation
+there was none to mark the difference between summer and
+winter.&nbsp; In spring of course the solitary date-palm here and
+there threw out its spathe of young green leaves, to add to the
+number of those which, grey or brown, hung drooping down the
+stem, withering but not decaying for many a year in that dry
+atmosphere; or perhaps the accacia bushes looked somewhat gayer
+for a few weeks, and the Retama broom, from which as well as from
+the palm leaves he plaited his baskets, threw out its yearly crop
+of twigs; but any greenness there might be in the vegetation of
+spring, turned grey in a few weeks beneath that burning sun; and
+be rest of the year was one perpetual summer of dust and glare
+and rest.&nbsp; Amid such scenes they had full time for
+thought.&nbsp; Nature and man alike left it in peace; while the
+labour required for sustaining life (and the monk wished for
+nothing more than to sustain mere life) was very light.&nbsp;
+Wherever water could be found, the hot sun and the fertile soil
+would repay by abundant crops, perhaps twice in the year, the
+toil of scratching the ground and putting in the seed.&nbsp;
+Moreover, the labour of the husbandman, so far from being adverse
+to the contemplative life, is of all occupations, it may be, that
+which promotes most quiet and wholesome meditation in the mind
+which cares to meditate.&nbsp; The life of the desert, when once
+the passions of youth were conquered, seems to have been not only
+a happy, but a healthy one.&nbsp; And when we remember that the
+monk, clothed from head to foot in woollen, and sheltered, too,
+by his sheepskin cape, escaped those violent changes of
+temperature which produce in the East so many fatal diseases, and
+which were so deadly to the linen-clothed inhabitants of the
+green lowlands of the Nile, we need not be surprised when we read
+of the vast longevity of many of the old abbots; and of their
+death, not by disease, but by gentle, and as it were wholesome
+natural decay.</p>
+<p>But if their life was easy, it was surely not ill-spent.&nbsp;
+If having few wants, and those soon supplied, they found too much
+time for the luxury of quiet thought, those need not blame them,
+who having many wants, and those also easily supplied, are wont
+to spend their superfluous leisure in any luxury save that of
+thought, above all save that of thought concerning God.&nbsp; For
+it was upon God that these men, whatever their defects or
+ignorances may have been, had set their minds.&nbsp; That man was
+sent into the world to know and to love, to obey and thereby to
+glorify, the Maker of his being, was the cardinal point of their
+creed, as it has been of every creed which ever exercised any
+beneficial influence on the minds of men.&nbsp; Dean Milman in
+his &ldquo;History of Christianity,&rdquo; vol. iii. page 294,
+has, while justly severe upon the failings and mistakes of the
+Eastern monks, pointed out with equal justice that the great
+desire of knowing God was the prime motive in the mind of all
+their best men:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In some regions of the East, the sultry and oppressive
+heat, the general relaxation of the physical system, dispose
+constitutions of a certain temperament to a dreamy
+inertness.&nbsp; The indolence and prostration of the body
+produce a kind of activity in the mind, if that may properly be
+called activity which is merely giving loose to the imagination
+and the emotions as they follow out the wild train of incoherent
+thought, or are agitated by impulses of spontaneous and
+ungoverned feeling.&nbsp; Ascetic Christianity ministered new
+aliment to this common propensity.&nbsp; It gave an object, both
+vague and determinate enough to stimulate, yet never to satisfy
+or exhaust.&nbsp; The regularity of stated hours of prayer, and
+of a kind of idle industry, weaving mats or plaiting baskets,
+alternated with periods of morbid reflection on the moral state
+of the soul, and of mystic communion with the Deity.&nbsp; It
+cannot indeed be wondered that this new revelation, as it were,
+of the Deity, this profound and rational certainty of his
+existence, this infelt consciousness of his perpetual presence,
+these as yet unknown impressions of his infinity, his power, and
+his love, should give a higher character to this eremitical
+enthusiasm, and attract men of loftier and more vigorous minds
+within its sphere.&nbsp; It was not merely the pusillanimous
+dread of encountering the trials of life which urged the humbler
+spirits to seek a safe retirement; or the natural love of peace,
+and the weariness and satiety of life, which commended this
+seclusion to those who were too gentle to mingle in, or who were
+exhausted with, the unprofitable turmoil of the world; nor was it
+always the anxiety to mortify the rebellious and refractory body
+with more advantage.&nbsp; The one absorbing idea of the Majesty
+of the Godhead almost seemed to swallow up all other
+considerations.&nbsp; The transcendent nature of the Triune
+Deity, the relation of the different persons of the Godhead to
+each other, seemed the only worthy object of men&rsquo;s
+contemplative faculties.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And surely the contemplation of the Godhead is no unworthy
+occupation for the immortal soul of any human being.&nbsp; But it
+would be unjust to these hermits did we fancy that their religion
+consisted merely even in this; much less that it consisted merely
+in dreams and visions, or in mere stated hours of prayer.&nbsp;
+That all did not fulfil the ideal of their profession is to be
+expected, and is frankly confessed by the writers of the Lives of
+the Fathers; that there were serious faults, even great crimes,
+among them is not denied.&nbsp; Those who wrote concerning them
+were so sure that they were on the whole good men, that they were
+not at all afraid of saying that some of them were bad,&mdash;not
+afraid, even, of recording, though only in dark hints, the reason
+why the Arab tribes around once rose and laid waste six churches
+with their monasteries in the neighbourhood of Scetis.&nbsp; St.
+Jerome in like manner does not hesitate to pour out bitter
+complaints against many of the monks in the neighbourhood of
+Bethlehem.&nbsp; It is notorious, too, that many became monks
+merely to escape slavery, hunger, or conscription into the army:
+Unruly and fanatical spirits, too, grew fond of wandering.&nbsp;
+Bands of monks on the great roads and public places of the
+empire, Massalians or Gyrovagi, as they were called, wandered
+from province to province, and cell to cell, living on the alms
+which they extorted from the pious, and making up too often for
+protracted fasts by outbursts of gluttony and drunkenness.&nbsp;
+And doubtless the average monk, even when well-conducted himself
+and in a well-conducted monastery, was, like average men of every
+creed, rank, or occupation, a very common-place person, acting
+from very mixed and often very questionable motives; and valuing
+his shaven crown and his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of
+prayer and his implicit obedience to his abbot, more highly than
+he valued the fear and the love of God.</p>
+<p>It is so in every creed.&nbsp; With some, even now, the strict
+observance of the Sabbath; with others, outward reverence at the
+Holy Communion; with others, the frequent hearing of sermons
+which suit heir own views; with others, continual reading of
+pious books (on the lessons of which they do not act), covers,
+instead of charity, a multitude of sins.&nbsp; But the saint,
+abbot, or father among these hermits was essentially the man who
+was not a common-place person; who was more than an ascetic, and
+more than a formalist; who could pierce beyond the letter to the
+spirit, and see, beyond all forms of doctrine or modes of life,
+that virtue was the one thing needful.</p>
+<p>The Historia Lausiaca and the Pratum Spirituale have many a
+story and many a saying as weighty, beautiful, and instructive
+now as they were fifteen hundred years ago; stories which show
+that graces and virtues such as the world had never seen before,
+save in the persecuted and half-unknown Christians of the first
+three centuries, were cultivated to noble fruitfulness by the
+monks of the East.&nbsp; For their humility, obedience, and
+reverence for their superiors it is not wise to praise them just
+now; for those are qualities which are not at present considered
+virtues, but rather (save by the soldier) somewhat abject vices;
+and indeed they often carried them, as they did their abstinence,
+to an extravagant pitch.&nbsp; But it must be remembered, in
+fairness, that if they obeyed their supposed superiors, they had
+first chosen their superiors themselves; that as the becoming a
+monk at all was an assertion of self-will and independence,
+whether for good or evil, so their reverence for their abbots was
+a voluntary loyalty to one who they fancied had a right to rule
+them, because he was wiser and better than they; a feeling which
+some have found not degrading, but ennobling; and the parent, not
+of servility, but of true freedom.&nbsp; And as for the obsolete
+virtue of humility, that still remains true which a voice said to
+Antony, when he saw the snares which were spread over the whole
+earth, and asked, sighing, &ldquo;Who can pass safely over
+these?&rdquo; and the voice answered, &ldquo;Humility
+alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For the rest, if the Sermon on the Mount mean anything, as a
+practical rule of life for Christian men, then these monks were
+surely justified in trying to obey it, for to obey it they surely
+tried.</p>
+<p>The Words of the Elders, to which I have already alluded, and
+the Lausiaca of Palladius likewise, are full of precious scraps
+of moral wisdom, sayings, and anecdotes, full of nobleness,
+purity, pathos, insight into character, and often instinct with a
+quiet humour, which seems to have been, in the Old world,
+peculiar to the Egyptians, as it is, in the New, almost peculiar
+to the old-fashioned God-fearing Scotsman.</p>
+<p>Take these examples, chosen almost at random.</p>
+<p>Serapion the Sindonite was so called because he wore nothing
+but a sindon, or linen shirt.&nbsp; Though he could not read, he
+could say all the Scriptures by heart.&nbsp; He could not (says
+Palladius) sit quiet in his cell, but wandered over the world in
+utter poverty, so that he &ldquo;attained to perfect
+impassibility, for with that nature he was born; for there are
+differences of natures, not of substances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So says Palladius, and goes on to tell how Serapion sold
+himself to certain play-actors for twenty gold pieces, and
+laboured for them as a slave till he had won them to Christ, and
+made them renounce the theatre; after which he made his converts
+give the money to the poor, and went his way.</p>
+<p>On one of his journeys he came to Athens, and, having neither
+money nor goods, starved there for three days.&nbsp; But on the
+fourth he went up, seemingly to the Areopagus, and cried,
+&ldquo;Men of Athens, help!&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the crowd
+questioned him, he told them that he had, since he left Egypt,
+fallen into the hands of three usurers, two of whom he had
+satisfied, but the third would not leave him.</p>
+<p>On being promised assistance, he told them that his three
+usurers were avarice, sensuality, and hunger.&nbsp; Of the two
+first he was rid, having neither money nor passions: but, as he
+had eaten nothing for three days, the third was beginning to be
+troublesome, and demanded its usual debt, without paying which he
+could not well live; whereon certain philosophers, seemly amused
+by his apologue, gave him a gold coin.&nbsp; He went to a
+baker&rsquo;s shop, laid down the coin, took up a loaf, and went
+out of Athens for ever.&nbsp; Then the philosophers knew that he
+was endowed with true virtue; and when they had paid the baker
+the price of the loaf, got back their gold.</p>
+<p>When he went into Laced&aelig;mon, he heard that a great man
+there was a Manich&aelig;an, with all his family, though
+otherwise a good man.&nbsp; To him Serapion sold himself as a
+slave, and within two years converted him and his wife, who
+thenceforth treated him not as a slave, but as their own
+brother.</p>
+<p>After awhile, this &ldquo;Spiritual adamant,&rdquo; as
+Palladius calls him, bought his freedom of them, and sailed for
+Rome.&nbsp; At sundown first the sailors, and then the
+passengers, brought out each man his provisions, and ate.&nbsp;
+Serapion sat still.&nbsp; The crew fancied that he was sea-sick;
+but when he had passed a second, third, and fourth day fasting,
+they asked, &ldquo;Man, why do you not eat?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Because I have nothing to eat.&rdquo;&nbsp; They thought
+that some one had stolen his baggage: but when they found that
+the man had absolutely nothing, they began to ask him not only
+how he would keep alive, but how he would pay his fare.&nbsp; He
+only answered, &ldquo;That he had nothing; that they might cast
+him out of the ship where they had found him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But they answered, &ldquo;Not for a hundred gold pieces, so
+favourable was the wind,&rdquo; and fed him all the way to Rome,
+where we lose sight of him and his humour.</p>
+<p>To go on with almost chance quotations:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Some monks were eating at a festival, and one said to the
+serving man, &ldquo;I eat nothing cooked; tell them to bring me
+salt.&rdquo;&nbsp; The serving man began to talk loudly:
+&ldquo;That brother eats no cooked meat; bring him a little
+salt.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Abbot Theodore: &ldquo;It were more
+better for thee, brother, to eat meat in thy cell than to hear
+thyself talked about in the presence of thy brethren.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again: a brother came to Abbot Silvanus, in Mount Sinai, and
+found the brethren working, and said, &ldquo;Why labour you for
+the meat which perisheth?&nbsp; Mary chose the good
+part.&rdquo;&nbsp; The abbot said, &ldquo;Give him a book to
+read, and put him in an empty cell.&rdquo;&nbsp; About the ninth
+hour the brother looked out, to see if he would be called to eat,
+and at last came to the abbot, and asked, &ldquo;Do not the
+brethren eat to-day, abbot?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Then why was not I called?&rdquo;&nbsp; Then quoth Abbot
+Silvanus: &ldquo;Thou art a spiritual man: and needest not their
+food.&nbsp; We are carnal, and must eat, because we work: but
+thou hast chosen the better part.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whereat the monk
+was ashamed.</p>
+<p>As was also John the dwarf, who wanted to be &ldquo;without
+care like the angels, doing nothing but praise God.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So he threw away his cloak, left his brother the abbot, and went
+into the desert.&nbsp; But after seven days he came back, and
+knocked at the door.&nbsp; &ldquo;Who is there?&rdquo; asked his
+brother.&nbsp; &ldquo;John.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Nay, John is
+turned into an angel, and is no more among men.&rdquo;&nbsp; So
+he left him outside all night; and in the morning gave him to
+understand that if he was a man he must work, but that if he was
+an angel, he had no need to live in a cell.</p>
+<p>Consider again the saying of the great Antony, when some
+brethren were praising another in his presence.&nbsp; But Antony
+tried him, and found that he could not bear an injury.&nbsp; Then
+said the old man, &ldquo;Brother, thou art like a house with an
+ornamented porch, while the thieves break into it by the back
+door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this, of Abbot Isidore, when the devil tempted him to
+despair, and told him that he would be lost after all: &ldquo;If
+I do go into torment, I shall still find you below me
+there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this, of Zeno the Syrian, when some Egyptian monks came to
+him and began accusing themselves: &ldquo;The Egyptians hide the
+virtues which they have, and confess vices which they have
+not.&nbsp; The Syrians and Greeks boast of virtues which they
+have not, and hide vices which they have.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this: One old man said to another, &ldquo;I am dead to this
+world.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Do not trust yourself,&rdquo; quoth
+the other, &ldquo;till you are out of this world.&nbsp; If you
+are dead, the devil is not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Two old men lived in the same cell, and had never
+disagreed.&nbsp; Said one to the other, &ldquo;Let us have just
+one quarrel, like other men.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the other:
+&ldquo;I do not know what a quarrel is like.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth
+the first: &ldquo;Here&mdash;I will put a brick between us, and
+say that it is mine: and you shall say it is not mine; and over
+that let us have a contention and a squabble.&rdquo;&nbsp; But
+when they put the brick between them, and one said, &ldquo;It is
+mine,&rdquo; the other said, &ldquo;I hope it is
+mine.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the first said, &ldquo;It is mine, it
+is not yours,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;If it is yours, take
+it.&rdquo;&nbsp; So they could not find out how to have a
+quarrel.</p>
+<p>Anger, malice, revenge, were accursed things in the eyes of
+these men.&nbsp; There was enough of them, and too much, among
+their monks; but far less, doubt not, than in the world
+outside.&nbsp; For within the monastery it was preached against,
+repressed, punished; and when repented of, forgiven, with loving
+warnings and wise rules against future transgression.</p>
+<p>Abbot Agathon used to say, &ldquo;I never went to sleep with a
+quarrel against any man; nor did I, as far as lay in me, let one
+who had a quarrel against me sleep till he had made
+peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Isaac was asked why the devils feared him so much.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Since I was made a monk,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I settled
+with myself that no angry word should come out of my
+mouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An old man said, &ldquo;Anger arises from these four things:
+from the lust of avarice, in giving and receiving; from loving
+one&rsquo;s own opinion; from wishing to be honoured; and from
+fancying oneself a teacher and hoping to be wiser than
+everybody.&nbsp; And anger obscures human reason by these four
+ways: if a man hate his neighbour; or if he envy him; or if he
+look on him as nought; or if he speak evil of him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius,
+told his story, and said, &ldquo;I wish to avenge myself,
+father.&rdquo;&nbsp; The abbot begged him to leave vengeance to
+God: but when he refused, said, &ldquo;Then let us
+pray.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whereon the old man rose, and said,
+&ldquo;God, thou art not necessary to us any longer, that thou
+shouldest be careful of us: for we, as this brother says, both
+will and can avenge ourselves.&rdquo;&nbsp; At which that brother
+fell at his feet, and begged pardon, promising never to strive
+with his enemy.</p>
+<p>Abbot P&oelig;men said often, &ldquo;Let malice never overcome
+thee.&nbsp; If any man do thee harm, repay him with good, that
+thou mayest conquer evil with good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a congregation at Scetis, when many men&rsquo;s lives and
+conversation had been talked over, Abbot Pior held his
+tongue.&nbsp; After it was over, he went out, and filled a sack
+with sand, and put it on his back.&nbsp; Then he took a little
+bag, filled it likewise with sand, and carried it before
+him.&nbsp; And when the brethren asked him what he meant, he
+said, &ldquo;The sack behind is my own sins, which are very many:
+yet I have cast them behind my back, and will not see them, nor
+weep over them.&nbsp; But I have put these few sins of my
+brother&rsquo;s before my eyes, and am tormenting myself over
+them, and condemning my brother.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother having committed a fault, went to Antony, and his
+brethren followed, upbraiding him, and wanting to bring him back;
+while he denied having done the wrong.&nbsp; Abbot Paphnutius was
+there, and spoke a parable to them:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw on the river bank a man sunk in the mud up to his
+knees.&nbsp; And men came to pull him out, and thrust him in up
+to the neck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then said Antony of Paphnutius, &ldquo;Behold a man who can
+indeed save souls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Macarius was going up to the mountain of Nitria, and
+sent his disciple on before.&nbsp; The disciple met an
+idol-priest hurrying on, and carrying a great beam: to whom he
+cried, &ldquo;Where art thou running, devil?&rdquo;&nbsp; At
+which he was wroth, and beat him so that he left him half dead,
+and then ran on, and met Macarius, who said, &ldquo;Salvation to
+thee, labourer, salvation!&rdquo;&nbsp; He answered, wondering,
+&ldquo;What good hast thou seen in me that thou salutest
+me?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Because I saw thee working and running,
+though ignorantly.&rdquo;&nbsp; To whom the priest said,
+&ldquo;Touched by thy salutation, I knew thee to be a great
+servant of God; for another&mdash;I know not who&mdash;miserable
+monk met me and insulted me, and I gave him blows for his
+words.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then laying hold of Macarius&rsquo;s feet he
+said, &ldquo;Unless thou make me a monk I will not leave hold of
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After all, of the best of these men are told (with much
+honesty) many sayings which show that they felt in their minds
+and hearts that the spirit was above the letter: sayings which
+show that they had at least at times glimpses of a simpler and
+more possible virtue; foretastes of a perfection more human, and
+it may be more divine.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better,&rdquo; said Abbot Hyperichius, &ldquo;to eat
+flesh and drink wine, than to eat our brethren&rsquo;s flesh with
+bitter words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother asked an elder, &ldquo;Give me, father one thing
+which I may keep, and be saved thereby.&rdquo;&nbsp; The elder
+answered, &ldquo;If thou canst be injured and insulted, and hear
+and be silent, that is a great thing, and above all the other
+commandments.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One of the elders used to say, &ldquo;Whatever a man shrinks
+from let him not do to another.&nbsp; Dost thou shrink if any man
+detracts from thee?&nbsp; Speak not ill of another.&nbsp; Dost
+thou shrink if any man slanders thee, or if any man takes aught
+from thee?&nbsp; Do not that or the like to another man.&nbsp;
+For he that shall have kept this saying, will find it suffice for
+his salvation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The nearer,&rdquo; said Abbot Muthues, &ldquo;a man
+approaches God, the more he will see himself to be a
+sinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Sisois, when he lay dying, begged to live a little
+longer, that he might repent; and when they wondered, he told
+them that he had not yet even begun repentance.&nbsp; Whereby
+they saw that he was perfect in the fear of the Lord.</p>
+<p>But the most startling confession of all must have been that
+wrung from the famous Macarius the elder.&nbsp; He had been asked
+once by a brother, to tell him a rule by which he might be saved;
+and his answer had been this:&mdash;to fly from men, to sit in
+his cell, and to lament for his sins continually; and, what was
+above all virtues, to keep his tongue in order as well as his
+appetite.</p>
+<p>But (whether before or after that answer is not said) he
+gained a deeper insight into true virtue, on the day when (like
+Antony when he was reproved by the example of the tanner in
+Alexandria) he heard a voice telling him that he was inferior to
+two women who dwelt in the nearest town.&nbsp; Catching up his
+staff, like Antony, he went off to see the wonder.&nbsp; The
+women, when questioned by him as to their works, were
+astonished.&nbsp; They had been simply good wives for years past,
+married to two brothers, and living in the same house.&nbsp; But
+when pressed by him, they confessed that they had never said a
+foul word to each other, and never quarrelled.&nbsp; At one time
+they had agreed together to retire into a nunnery, but could not,
+for all their prayers, obtain the consent of their
+husbands.&nbsp; On which they had both made an oath, that they
+would never, to their deaths, speak one worldly word.</p>
+<p>Which when the blessed Macarius had heard, he said, &ldquo;In
+truth there is neither virgin, nor married woman, nor monk, nor
+secular; but God only requires the intention, and ministers the
+spirit of life to all.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+149</span>ARSENIUS</h2>
+<p>I <span class="smcap">shall</span> give one more figure, and
+that a truly tragical one, from these &ldquo;Lives of the
+Egyptian Fathers,&rdquo; namely, that of the once great and
+famous Arsenius, the Father (as he was at one time called) of the
+Emperors.&nbsp; Theodosius, the great statesman and warrior, who
+for some twenty years kept up by his single hand the falling
+empire of Rome, heard how Arsenius was at once the most pious and
+the most learned of his subjects; and wishing&mdash;half
+barbarian as he was himself&mdash;that his sons should be brought
+up, not only as scholars, but as Christians, he sent for Arsenius
+to his court, and made him tutor to his two young sons Honorius
+and Arcadius.&nbsp; But the two lads had neither their
+father&rsquo;s strength nor their father&rsquo;s nobleness.&nbsp;
+Weak and profligate, they fretted Arsenius&rsquo;s soul day by
+day; and, at last, so goes the story, provoked him so far that,
+according to the fashion of a Roman pedagogue, he took the ferula
+and administered to one of the princes a caning, which he no
+doubt deserved.&nbsp; The young prince, in revenge, plotted
+against his life.&nbsp; Among the parasites of the Palace it was
+not difficult to find those who would use steel and poison
+readily enough in the service of an heir-apparent, and Arsenius
+fled for his life: and fled, as men were wont in those days, to
+Egypt and the Thebaid.&nbsp; Forty years old he was when he left
+the court, and forty years more he spent among the cells at
+Scetis, weeping day and night.&nbsp; He migrated afterwards to a
+place called Troe, and there died at the age of ninety-five,
+having wept himself, say his admirers, almost blind.&nbsp; He
+avoided, as far as possible, beholding the face of man; upon the
+face of woman he would never look.&nbsp; A noble lady, whom he
+had known probably in the world, came all the way from Rome to
+see him; but he refused himself to her sternly, almost
+roughly.&nbsp; He had known too much of the fine ladies of the
+Roman court; all he cared for was peace.&nbsp; There is a story
+of him that, changing once his dwelling-place, probably from
+Scetis to Troe, he asked, somewhat peevishly, of the monks around
+him, &ldquo;What that noise was?&rdquo;&nbsp; They told him it
+was only the wind among the reeds.&nbsp; &ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; he
+said, &ldquo;I have fled everywhere in search of silence, and yet
+here the very reeds speak.&rdquo;&nbsp; The simple and
+comparatively unlearned monks around him looked with a profound
+respect on the philosopher, courtier, scholar, who had cast away
+the real pomps and vanities of this life, such as they had never
+known.&nbsp; There is a story told, plainly concerning Arsenius,
+though his name is not actually mentioned in it, how a certain
+old monk saw him lying upon a softer mat than his fellows, and
+indulged with a few more comforts; and complained indignantly of
+his luxury, and the abbot&rsquo;s favouritism.&nbsp; Then asked
+the abbot, &ldquo;What didst thou eat before thou becamest a
+monk?&rdquo; He confessed he had been glad enough to fill his
+stomach with a few beans.&nbsp; &ldquo;How wert thou
+dressed?&rdquo;&nbsp; He was glad enough, again he confessed, to
+have any clothes at all on his back.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where didst
+thou sleep?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Often enough on the bare ground
+in the open air,&rdquo; was the answer.&nbsp; &ldquo;Then,&rdquo;
+said the abbot, &ldquo;thou art, by thy own confession, better
+off as a monk than thou wast as a poor labouring man: and yet
+thou grudgest a little comfort to one who has given up more
+luxury than thou hast ever beheld.&nbsp; This man slept beneath
+silken canopies; he was carried in gilded litters, by trains of
+slaves; he was clothed in purple and fine linen; he fed upon all
+the delicacies of the great city: and he has given up all for
+Christ.&nbsp; And what hast thou given up, that thou shouldst
+grudge him a softer mat, or a little more food each
+day?&rdquo;&nbsp; And so the monk was abashed, and held his
+peace.</p>
+<p>As for Arsenius&rsquo;s tears, it is easy to call his grief
+exaggerated or superstitious: but those who look on them with
+human eyes will pardon them, and watch with sacred pity the grief
+of a good man, who felt that his life had been an utter
+failure.&nbsp; He saw his two pupils, between whom, at their
+father&rsquo;s death, the Roman Empire was divided into Eastern
+and Western, grow more and more incapable of governing.&nbsp; He
+saw a young barbarian, whom he must have often met at the court
+in Byzantium, as Master of the Horse, come down from his native
+forests, and sack the Eternal City of Rome.&nbsp; He saw evil and
+woe unspeakable fall on that world which he had left behind him,
+till the earth was filled with blood, and Antichrist seemed ready
+to appear, and the day of judgment to be at hand.&nbsp; And he
+had been called to do what he could to stave off this ruin, to
+make those young princes decree justice and rule in judgment by
+the fear of God.&nbsp; But he had failed; and there was nothing
+left to him save self-accusation and regret, and dread lest some,
+at least, of the blood which had been shed might be required at
+his hands.&nbsp; Therefore, sitting upon his palm-mat there in
+Troe, he wept his life away; happier, nevertheless, and more
+honourable in the sight of God and man than if, like a Mazarin or
+a Talleyrand, and many another crafty politician, both in Church
+and State, he had hardened his heart against his own mistakes,
+and, by crafty intrigue and adroit changing of sides at the right
+moment, had contrived to secure for himself, out of the general
+ruin, honour and power and wealth, and delicate food, and a
+luxurious home, and so been one of those of whom the Psalmist
+says, with awful irony, &ldquo;So long as thou doest well unto
+thyself, men will speak good of thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One good deed at least Arsenius had seen done&mdash;a deed
+which has lasted to all time, and done, too, to the eternal
+honour of his order, by a monk&mdash;namely, the abolition of
+gladiator shows.&nbsp; For centuries these wholesale murders had
+lasted through the Roman Republic and through the Roman
+Empire.&nbsp; Human beings in the prime of youth and health,
+captives or slaves, condemned malefactors, and even free-born
+men, who hired themselves out to death, had been trained to
+destroy each other in the amphitheatre for the amusement, not
+merely of the Roman mob, but of the Roman ladies.&nbsp; Thousands
+sometimes, in a single day, had been</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Butchered to make a Roman
+holiday.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>The training of gladiators had become a science.&nbsp; By
+their weapons and their armour, and their modes of fighting, they
+had been distinguished into regular classes, of which the
+antiquaries count up full eighteen: Andabat&aelig;, who wore
+helmets without any opening for the eyes, so that they were
+obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited the mirth of the
+spectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armour;
+Mirmillones, who had the image of a fish upon their helmets, and
+fought in armour with a short sword, matched usually against the
+Retiarii, who fought without armour, and whose weapons were a
+casting-net and a trident.&nbsp; These, and other species of
+fighters, were drilled and fed in &ldquo;families&rdquo; by
+Lanist&aelig;; or regular trainers, who let them out to persons
+wishing to exhibit a show.&nbsp; Women, even high-born ladies,
+had been seized in former times with the madness of fighting,
+and, as shameless as cruel, had gone down into the arena to
+delight with their own wounds and their own gore the eyes of the
+Roman people.</p>
+<p>And these things were done, and done too often, under the
+auspices of the gods, and at their most sacred festivals.&nbsp;
+So deliberate and organized a system of wholesale butchery has
+never perhaps existed on this earth before or since, not even in
+the worship of those Mexican gods whose idols Cortez and his
+soldiers found fed with human hearts, and the walls of their
+temples crusted with human gore.&nbsp; Gradually the spirit of
+the Gospel had been triumphing over this abomination.&nbsp; Ever
+since the time of Tertullian, in the second century, Christian
+preachers and writers had lifted up their voice in the name of
+humanity.&nbsp; Towards the end of the third century, the
+Emperors themselves had so far yielded to the voice of reason, as
+to forbid by edicts the gladiatorial fights.&nbsp; But the public
+opinion of the mob in most of the great cities had been too
+strong both for saints and for emperors.&nbsp; St. Augustine
+himself tells us of the horrible joy which he, in his youth, had
+seen come over the vast ring of flushed faces at these horrid
+sights; and in Arsenius&rsquo;s own time, his miserable pupil,
+the weak Honorius, bethought himself of celebrating once more the
+heathen festival of the Secular Games, and formally to allow
+therein an exhibition of gladiators.&nbsp; But in the midst of
+that show sprang down into the arena of the Colosseum of Rome an
+unknown monk, some said from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and with
+his own hands parted the combatants in the name of Christ and
+God.&nbsp; The mob, baulked for a moment of their pleasure,
+sprang on him, and stoned him to death.&nbsp; But the crime was
+followed by a sudden revulsion of feeling.&nbsp; By an edict of
+the Emperor the gladiatorial sports were forbidden for ever; and
+the Colosseum, thenceforth useless, crumbled slowly away into
+that vast ruin which remains unto this day, purified, as men well
+said, from the blood of tens of thousands, by the blood of one
+true and noble martyr.</p>
+<h2><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>THE
+HERMITS OF ASIA</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> impulse which, given by Antony,
+had been propagated in Asia by his great pupil, Hilarion, spread
+rapidly far and wide.&nbsp; Hermits took possession of the
+highest peaks of Sinai; and driven from thence, so tradition
+tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which still haunt its
+cliffs, settled at that sheltered spot where now stands the
+convent of St. Catharine.&nbsp; Massacred again and again by the
+wild Arab tribes, their places were filled up by fresh hermits,
+and their spiritual descendants hold the convent to this day.</p>
+<p>Through the rich and luxuriant region of Syria, and especially
+round the richest and most luxurious of its cities, Antioch,
+hermits settled, and bore, by the severity of their lives, a
+noble witness against the profligacy of its inhabitants, who had
+half renounced the paganism of their forefathers without
+renouncing in the least, it seems, those sins which drew down of
+old the vengeance of a righteous God upon their forefathers,
+whether in Canaan or in Syria itself.</p>
+<p>At Antioch, about the year 347, was born the famous
+Chrysostom, John of the Golden Mouth; and near Antioch he became
+a hermit, and dwelt, so legends say, several years alone in the
+wilderness: till, nerved by that hard training, he went forth
+again into the world to become, whether at Antioch or at
+Constantinople, the bravest as well as the most eloquent preacher
+of righteousness and rebuker of sin which the world had seen
+since the times of St. Paul.&nbsp; The labours of Chrysostom
+belong not so much to this book as to a general ecclesiastical
+history: but it must not be forgotten that he, like all the great
+men of that age, had been a monk, and kept up his monastic
+severity, even in the midst of the world, until his dying
+day.</p>
+<p>At Nisibis, again, upon the very frontier of Persia, appeared
+another very remarkable personage, known as the Great Jacob or
+Great St. James.&nbsp; Taking (says his admiring biographer,
+Theodoret of Cyra) to the peaks of the loftiest mountains, he
+passed his life on them, in spring and summer haunting the woods,
+with the sky for a roof, but sheltering himself in winter in a
+cave.&nbsp; His food was wild fruits and mountain herbs.&nbsp; He
+never used a fire, and, clothed in a goats&rsquo; hair garment,
+was perhaps the first of those Boscoi, or &ldquo;browsing
+hermits,&rdquo; who lived literally like the wild animals in the
+flesh, while they tried to live like angels in the spirit.</p>
+<p>Some of the stories told of Jacob savour of that
+vindictiveness which Giraldus Cambrensis, in after years,
+attributed to the saints in Ireland.&nbsp; He was walking one day
+over the Persian frontier, &ldquo;to visit the plants of true
+religion&rdquo; and &ldquo;bestow on them due care,&rdquo; when
+he passed at a fountain a troop of damsels washing clothes and
+treading them with their feet.&nbsp; They seem, according to the
+story, to have stared at the wild man, instead of veiling their
+faces or letting down their garments.&nbsp; No act or word of
+rudeness is reported of them: but Jacob&rsquo;s modesty or pride
+was so much scandalized that he cursed both the fountain and the
+girls.&nbsp; The fountain of course dried up forthwith, and the
+damsels&rsquo; hair turned grey.&nbsp; They ran weeping into the
+town.&nbsp; The townsfolk came out, and compelled Jacob, by their
+prayers, to restore the water to their fountain; but the grey
+hair he refused to restore to its original hue unless the damsels
+would come and beg pardon publicly themselves.&nbsp; The poor
+girls were ashamed to come, and their hair remained grey ever
+after.</p>
+<p>A story like this may raise a smile in some of my readers, in
+others something like indignation or contempt.&nbsp; But as long
+as such legends remain in these hermit lives, told with as much
+gravity as any other portion of the biography, and eloquently
+lauded, as this deed is, by Bishop Theodoret, as proofs of the
+holiness and humanity of the saint, an honest author is bound to
+notice some of them at least, and not to give an alluring and
+really dishonest account of these men and their times, by
+detailing every anecdote which can elevate them in the mind of
+the reader, while he carefully omits all that may justly disgust
+him.</p>
+<p>Yet, after all, we are not bound to believe this legend, any
+more than we are bound to believe that when Jacob saw a Persian
+judge give an unjust sentence, he forthwith cursed, not him, but
+a rock close by, which instantly crumbled into innumerable
+fragments, so terrifying that judge that he at once revoked his
+sentence, and gave a just decision.</p>
+<p>Neither, again, need we believe that it was by sending, as men
+said in his own days, swarms of mosquitos against the Persian
+invaders, that he put to flight their elephants and horses: and
+yet it may be true that, in the famous siege of Nisibis, Jacob
+played the patriot and the valiant man.&nbsp; For when Sapor, the
+Persian king, came against Nisibis with all his forces, with
+troops of elephants, and huge machines of war, and towers full of
+archers wheeled up to the walls, and at last, damming the river
+itself, turned its current against the fortifications of unburnt
+brick, until a vast breach was opened in the walls, then Jacob,
+standing in the breach, encouraged by his prayers his
+fellow-townsmen to stop it with stone, brick, timber, and
+whatsoever came to hand; and Sapor, the Persian Sultan, saw
+&ldquo;that divine man,&rdquo; and his goats&rsquo;-hair tunic
+and cloak seemed transformed into a purple robe and royal
+diadem.&nbsp; And, whether he was seized with superstitious fear,
+or whether the hot sun or the marshy ground had infected his
+troops with disease, or whether the mosquito swarms actually
+became intolerable, the great King of Persia turned and went
+away.</p>
+<p>So Nisibis was saved for a while; to be shamefully surrendered
+to the Persians a few years afterwards by the weak young Emperor
+Jovian.&nbsp; Old Ammianus Marcellinus, brave soldier as he was,
+saw with disgust the whole body of citizens ordered to quit the
+city within three days, and &ldquo;men appointed to compel
+obedience to the order, with threats of death to every one who
+delayed his departure; and the whole city was a scene of mourning
+and lamentation, and in every quarter nothing was heard but one
+universal wail, matrons tearing their hair, and about to be
+driven from the homes in which they had been born and brought up;
+the mother who had lost her children, or the wife who had lost
+her husband, about to be torn from the place rendered sacred by
+their shades, clinging to their doorposts, embracing their
+thresholds, and pouring forth floods of tears.&nbsp; Every road
+was crowded, each person struggling away as he could.&nbsp; Many,
+too, loaded themselves with as much of their property as they
+thought they could carry, while leaving behind them abundant and
+costly furniture, which they could not remove for want of beasts
+of burden.&rdquo; <a name="citation159"></a><a
+href="#footnote159" class="citation">[159]</a></p>
+<p>One treasure, however, they did remove, of which the old
+soldier Ammianus says nothing, and which, had he seen it pass him
+on the road, he would have treated with supreme contempt.&nbsp;
+And that, says Theodoret, was the holy body of &ldquo;their
+prince and defender,&rdquo; St. James the mountain hermit, round
+which the emigrants chanted, says Theodoret, hymns of regret and
+praise, &ldquo;for, had he been alive, that city would have never
+passed into barbarian hands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There stood with Jacob in the breach, during that siege of
+Nisibis, a man of gentler temperament, a disciple of his, who had
+received baptism at his hands, and who was, like himself, a
+hermit&mdash;Ephraim, or Ephrem, of Edessa, as he is commonly
+called, for, though born at Nisibis, his usual home was at
+Edessa, the metropolis of a Syrian-speaking race.&nbsp; Into the
+Syrian tongue Ephrem translated the doctrines of the Christian
+faith and the Gospel history, and spread abroad, among the
+heathen round, a number of delicate and graceful hymns, which
+remain to this day, and of which some have lately been translated
+into English. <a name="citation160"></a><a href="#footnote160"
+class="citation">[160]</a>&nbsp; Soft, sad, and dreamy as they
+were, they had strength and beauty enough in them to supersede
+the Gnostic hymns of Bardesanes and his son Harmonius, which had
+been long popular among the Syrians; and for centuries
+afterwards, till Christianity was swept away by the followers of
+Mahomet, the Syrian husbandman beguiled his toil with the pious
+and plaintive melodies of St. Ephrem.</p>
+<p>But Ephrem was not only a hermit and a poet: he was a preacher
+and a missionary.&nbsp; If he wept, as it was said, day and night
+for his own sins and the sins of mankind, he did his best at
+least to cure those sins.&nbsp; He was a demagogue, or leader of
+the people, for good and not for evil, to whom the simple Syrians
+looked up for many a year as their spiritual father.&nbsp; He
+died in peace, as he said himself, like the labourer who has
+finished his day&rsquo;s work, like the wandering merchant who
+returns to his fatherland, leaving nothing behind him save
+prayers and counsels, for &ldquo;Ephrem,&rdquo; he added,
+&ldquo;had neither wallet nor pilgrim&rsquo;s staff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His last utterance&rdquo; (I owe this fact to M. de
+Montalembert&rsquo;s book, &ldquo;Moines d&rsquo;Occident&rdquo;)
+&ldquo;was a protest on behalf of the dignity of man redeemed by
+the Son of God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The young and pious daughter of the Governor of Edessa
+came weeping to receive his latest breath.&nbsp; He made her
+swear never again to be carried in a litter by slaves, &lsquo;The
+neck of man,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;should bear no yoke save that
+of Christ.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; This anecdote is one among many
+which go to prove that from the time that St. Paul had declared
+the great truth that in Christ Jesus was neither bond nor free,
+and had proclaimed the spiritual brotherhood of all men in
+Christ, slavery, as an institution, was doomed to slow but
+certain death.&nbsp; But that death was accelerated by the
+monastic movement, wherever it took root.&nbsp; A class of men
+who came not to be ministered unto, but to minister to others;
+who prided themselves upon needing fewer luxuries than the
+meanest slaves; who took rank among each other and among men not
+on the ground of race, nor of official position, nor of wealth,
+nor even of intellect, but simply on the ground of virtue, was a
+perpetual protest against slavery and tyranny of every kind; a
+perpetual witness to the world that, whether all men were equal
+or not in the sight of God, the only rank among them of which God
+would take note, would be their rank in goodness.</p>
+<h2><a name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+162</span>BASIL</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">On</span> the south shore of the Black
+Sea, eastward of Sinope, there dwelt in those days, at the mouth
+of the River Iris, a hermit as gentle and as pure as Ephrem of
+Edessa.&nbsp; Beside a roaring waterfall, amid deep glens and
+dark forests, with distant glimpses of the stormy sea beyond,
+there lived on bread and water a graceful gentleman, young and
+handsome; a scholar too, who had drunk deeply at the fountains of
+Pagan philosophy and poetry, and had been educated with care at
+Constantinople and at Athens, as well as at his native city of
+C&aelig;sar&aelig;a, in the heart of Asia Minor, now dwindled
+under Turkish misrule into a wretched village.&nbsp; He was heir
+to great estates; the glens and forests round him were his own:
+and that was the use which he made of them.&nbsp; On the other
+side of the torrent, his mother and his sister, a maiden of
+wonderful beauty, lived the hermit life, on a footing of perfect
+equality with their female slaves, and the pious women who had
+joined them.</p>
+<p>Basil&rsquo;s austerities&mdash;or rather the severe climate
+of the Black Sea forests&mdash;brought him to an early
+grave.&nbsp; But his short life was spent well enough.&nbsp; He
+was a poet, with an eye for the beauty of Nature&mdash;especially
+for the beauty of the sea&mdash;most rare in those times; and his
+works are full of descriptions of scenery as healthy-minded as
+they are vivid and graceful.</p>
+<p>In his travels through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, he had
+seen the hermits, and longed to emulate them; but (to do him
+justice) his ideal of the so-called &ldquo;religious life&rdquo;
+was more practical than those of the solitaries of Egypt, who had
+been his teachers.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was the life&rdquo; (says Dean
+Milman <a name="citation163"></a><a href="#footnote163"
+class="citation">[163]</a>) &ldquo;of the industrious religious
+community, not of the indolent and solitary anchorite, which to
+Basil was the perfection of Christianity. . . .&nbsp; The
+indiscriminate charity of these institutions was to receive
+orphans&rdquo; (of which there were but too many in those evil
+days) &ldquo;of all classes, for education and maintenance: but
+other children only with the consent or at the request of
+parents, certified before witnesses; and vows were by no means to
+be enforced upon these youthful pupils.&nbsp; Slaves who fled to
+the monasteries were to be admonished and sent back to their
+owners.&nbsp; There is one reservation&rdquo; (and that one only
+too necessary then), &ldquo;that slaves were not bound to obey
+their master, if he should order what is contrary to the law of
+God.&nbsp; Industry was to be the animating principle of these
+settlements.&nbsp; Prayer and psalmody were to have their stated
+hours, but by no means to intrude on those devoted to useful
+labour.&nbsp; These labours were strictly defined; such as were
+of real use to the community, not those which might contribute to
+vice or luxury.&nbsp; Agriculture was especially
+recommended.&nbsp; The life was in no respect to be absorbed in a
+perpetual mystic communion with the Deity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The ideal which Basil set before him was never fulfilled in
+the East.&nbsp; Transported to the West by St. Benedict,
+&ldquo;the father of all monks,&rdquo; it became that conventual
+system which did so much during the early middle age, not only
+for the conversion and civilization, but for the arts and the
+agriculture of Europe.</p>
+<p>Basil, like his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianzen, had to go
+forth from his hermitage into the world, and be a bishop, and
+fight the battles of the true faith.&nbsp; But, as with Gregory,
+his hermit-training had strengthened his soul, while it weakened
+his body.&nbsp; The Emperor Valens, supporting the Arians against
+the orthodox, sent to Basil his Prefect of the Pr&aelig;torium,
+an officer of the highest rank.&nbsp; The prefect argued,
+threatened; Basil was firm.&nbsp; &ldquo;I never met,&rdquo; said
+he at last, &ldquo;such boldness.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said Basil, &ldquo;you never met a
+bishop.&rdquo;&nbsp; The prefect returned to his Emperor.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;My lord, we are conquered; this bishop is above
+threats.&nbsp; We can do nothing but by force.&rdquo;&nbsp; The
+Emperor shrank from that crime, and Basil and the orthodoxy of
+his diocese were saved.&nbsp; The rest of his life and of
+Gregory&rsquo;s belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to general
+history, and we need pursue it no further here.</p>
+<p>I said that Basil&rsquo;s idea of what monks should be was
+never carried out in the East, and it cannot be denied that, as
+the years went on, the hermit life took a form less and less
+practical, and more and more repulsive also.&nbsp; Such men as
+Antony, Hilarion, Basil, had valued the ascetic training, not so
+much because it had, as they thought, a merit in itself, but
+because it enabled the spirit to rise above the flesh; because it
+gave them strength to conquer their passions and appetites, and
+leave their soul free to think and act.</p>
+<p>But their disciples, especially in Syria, seem to have
+attributed more and more merit to the mere act of inflicting want
+and suffering on themselves.&nbsp; Their souls were darkened,
+besides, more and more, by a doctrine unknown to the Bible,
+unknown to the early Christians, and one which does not seem to
+have had any strong hold of the mind of Antony
+himself&mdash;namely, that sins committed after baptism could
+only be washed away by tears, and expiated by penance; that for
+them the merits of him who died for the sins of the whole world
+were of little or of no avail.</p>
+<p>Therefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set
+their whole minds to punish themselves on earth, always tortured
+by the dread that they were not punishing themselves enough, till
+they crushed down alike body, mind, and soul into an abject
+superstition, the details of which are too repulsive to be
+written here.&nbsp; Some of the instances of this self-invented
+misery which are recorded, even as early as the time of
+Theodoret, bishop of Cyra, in the middle of the fifth century,
+make us wonder at the puzzling inconsistencies of the human
+mind.&nbsp; Did these poor creatures really believe that God
+could be propitiated by the torture of his own creatures?&nbsp;
+What sense could Theodoret (who was a good man himself) have put
+upon the words, &ldquo;God is good,&rdquo; or &ldquo;God is
+love,&rdquo; while he was looking with satisfaction, even with
+admiration and awe, on practices which were more fit for
+worshippers of Moloch?</p>
+<p>Those who think these words too strong, may judge for
+themselves how far they apply to his story of Marana and
+Cyra.</p>
+<p>Marana, then, and Cyra were two young ladies of Berh&oelig;a,
+who had given up all the pleasures of life to settle themselves
+in a roofless cottage outside the town.&nbsp; They had stopped up
+the door with stones and clay, and allowed it only to be opened
+at the feast of Pentecost.&nbsp; Around them lived certain female
+slaves who had voluntarily chosen the same life, and who were
+taught and exhorted through a little window by their mistresses;
+or rather, it would seem, by Marana alone: for Cyra (who was bent
+double by her &ldquo;training&rdquo;) was never to speak.&nbsp;
+Theodoret, as a priest, was allowed to enter the sacred
+enclosure, and found them shrouded from head to foot in long
+veils, so that neither their faces or hands could be seen; and
+underneath their veils, burdened on every limb, poor wretches,
+with such a load of iron chains and rings that a strong man, he
+says, could not have stood under the weight.&nbsp; Thus had they
+endured for two-and-forty years, exposed to sun and wind, to
+frost and rain, taking no food at times for many days
+together.&nbsp; I have no mind to finish the picture, and still
+less to record any of the phrases of rapturous admiration with
+which Bishop Theodoret comments upon their pitiable
+superstition.</p>
+<h2><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+167</span>SIMEON STYLITES</h2>
+<p>Of all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable,
+perhaps, was the once famous Simeon Stylites&mdash;a name almost
+forgotten, save by antiquaries and ecclesiastics, till Mr.
+Tennyson made it once more notorious in a poem as admirable for
+its savage grandness, as for its deep knowledge of human
+nature.&nbsp; He has comprehended thoroughly, as it seems to me,
+that struggle between self-abasement and self-conceit, between
+the exaggerated sense of sinfulness and the exaggerated ambition
+of saintly honour, which must have gone on in the minds of these
+ascetics&mdash;the temper which could cry out one moment with
+perfect honesty&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Although I be the basest of mankind,<br />
+From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin;&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>at the next&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;I will not cease to grasp the hope I
+hold<br />
+Of saintdom; and to clamour, mourn, and sob,<br />
+Battering the gates of heaven with storms of prayer.<br />
+Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin.<br />
+Let this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,<br />
+This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years<br />
+Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,<br />
+
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+* * * * * *<br />
+A sign between the meadow and the cloud,<br />
+Patient on this tall pillar I have borne<br />
+Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and snow;<br />
+And I had hoped that ere this period closed<br />
+Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest,<br />
+Denying not these weather-beaten limbs<br />
+The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm.<br />
+O take the meaning, Lord: I do not breathe,<br />
+Not whisper any murmur of complaint.<br />
+Pain heaped ten hundred-fold to this, were still<br />
+Less burthen, by ten-hundred-fold, to bear<br />
+Than were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush&rsquo;d<br />
+My spirit flat before thee.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Admirably also has Mr. Tennyson conceived the hermit&rsquo;s
+secret doubt of the truth of those miracles, which he is so often
+told that he has worked, that he at last begins to believe that
+he must have worked them; and the longing, at the same time, to
+justify himself to himself, by persuading himself that he has
+earned miraculous powers.&nbsp; On this whole question of hermit
+miracles I shall speak at length hereafter.&nbsp; I have given
+specimens enough of them already, and shall give as few as
+possible henceforth.&nbsp; There is a sameness about them which
+may become wearisome to those who cannot be expected to believe
+them.&nbsp; But what the hermits themselves thought of them, is
+told (at least, so I suspect) only too truly by Mr.
+Tennyson&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;O Lord, thou knowest what
+a man I am;<br />
+A sinful man, conceived and born in sin:<br />
+&rsquo;Tis their own doing; this is none of mine;<br />
+Lay it not to me.&nbsp; Am I to blame for this,<br />
+That here come those who worship me?&nbsp; Ha! ha!<br />
+The silly people take me for a saint,<br />
+And bring me offerings of fruit and flowers:<br />
+And I, in truth (thou wilt bear witness here),<br />
+Have all in all endured as much, and more<br />
+Than many just and holy men, whose names<br />
+Are register&rsquo;d and calendar&rsquo;d for saints.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Good people, you do ill to kneel to me.<br />
+What is it I can have done to merit this?<br />
+It may be I have wrought some miracles,<br />
+And cured some halt and maimed: but what of that?<br />
+It may be, no one, even among the saints,<br />
+Can match his pains with mine: but what of that?<br />
+Yet do not rise; for you may look on me,<br />
+And in your looking you may kneel to God.<br />
+Speak, is there any of you halt and maimed?<br />
+I think you know I have some power with heaven<br />
+From my long penance; let him speak his wish.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Yes, I can heal him.&nbsp; Power goes forth from
+me.<br />
+They say that they are heal&rsquo;d.&nbsp; Ah, hark! they
+shout,<br />
+&lsquo;St. Simeon Stylites!&rsquo;&nbsp; Why, if so,<br />
+God reaps a harvest in me.&nbsp; O my soul,<br />
+God reaps a harvest in thee.&nbsp; If this be,<br />
+Can I work miracles, and not be saved?<br />
+This is not told of any.&nbsp; They were saints.<br />
+It cannot be but that I shall be saved;<br />
+Yea, crowned a saint.&rdquo; . . .</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>I shall not take the liberty of quoting more: but shall advise
+all who read these pages to study seriously Mr. Tennyson&rsquo;s
+poem if they wish to understand that darker side of the hermit
+life which became at last, in the East, the only side of
+it.&nbsp; For in the East the hermits seem to have degenerated,
+by the time of the Mahomedan conquest, into mere self-torturing
+fakeers, like those who may be seen to this day in
+Hindostan.&nbsp; The salt lost its savour, and in due tune it was
+trampled under foot; and the armies of the Moslem swept out of
+the East a superstition which had ended by enervating instead of
+ennobling humanity.</p>
+<p>But in justice, not only to myself, but to Mr. Tennyson (whose
+details of Simeon&rsquo;s asceticism may seem to some exaggerated
+and impossible), I have thought fit to give his life at length,
+omitting only many of his miracles, and certain stories of his
+penances, which can only excite horror and disgust, without
+edifying the reader.</p>
+<p>There were, then, three hermits of this name, often
+confounded; and all alike famous (as were Julian, Daniel, and
+other Stylites) for standing for many years on pillars.&nbsp; One
+of the Simeons is said by Moschus to have been struck by
+lightning, and his death to have been miraculously revealed to
+Julian the Stylite, who lived twenty-four miles off.&nbsp; More
+than one Stylite, belonging to the Monophysite heresy of Severus
+Acephalus, was to be found, according to Moschus, in the East at
+the beginning of the seventh century.&nbsp; This biography is
+that of the elder Simeon, who died (according to Cedrenus) about
+460, after passing some forty or fifty years upon pillars of
+different heights.&nbsp; There is much discrepancy in the
+accounts, both of his date and of his age; but that such a person
+really existed, and had his imitators, there can be no
+doubt.&nbsp; He is honoured as a saint alike by the Latin and by
+the Greek Churches.</p>
+<p>His life has been written by a disciple of his named Antony,
+who professes to have been with him when he died; and also by
+Theodoret, who knew him well in life.&nbsp; Both are to be found
+in Rosweyde, and there seems no reason to doubt their
+authenticity.&nbsp; I have therefore interwoven them both,
+marking the paragraphs taken from each.</p>
+<p>Theodoret, who says that he was born in the village of Gesa,
+between Antioch and Cilicia, calls him that &ldquo;famous
+Simeon&mdash;that great miracle of the whole world, whom all who
+obey the Roman rule know; whom the Persians also know, and the
+Indians, and &AElig;thiopians; nay, his fame has even spread to
+the wandering Scythians, and taught them his love of toil and
+love of wisdom;&rdquo; and says that he might be compared with
+Jacob the patriarch, Joseph the temperate, Moses the legislator,
+David the king and prophet, Micaiah the prophet, and the divine
+men who were like them.&nbsp; He tells how Simeon, as a boy, kept
+his father&rsquo;s sheep, and, being forced by heavy snow to
+leave them in the fold, went with his parents to the church, and
+there heard the Gospel which blesses those who mourn and weep,
+and calls those miserable who laugh, and those enviable who have
+a pure heart.&nbsp; And when he asked a bystander what he would
+gain who did each of these things, the man propounded to him the
+solitary life, and pointed out to him the highest philosophy.</p>
+<p>This, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint&rsquo;s own
+tongue.&nbsp; His disciple Antony gives the story of his
+conversion somewhat differently.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>St. Simeon (says Antony) was chosen by God from his birth, and
+used to study how to obey and please him.&nbsp; Now his
+father&rsquo;s name was Susocion, and he was brought up by his
+parents.</p>
+<p>When he was thirteen years old, he was feeding his
+father&rsquo;s sheep; and seeing a church he left the sheep and
+went in, and heard an epistle being read.&nbsp; And when he asked
+an elder, &ldquo;Master, what is that which is read?&rdquo; the
+old man replied, &ldquo;For the substance (or very being) of the
+soul, that a man may learn to fear God with his whole heart, and
+his whole mind.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the blessed Simeon,
+&ldquo;What is to fear God?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the elder,
+&ldquo;Wherefore troublest thou me, my son?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth
+he, &ldquo;I inquire of thee, as of God.&nbsp; For I wish to
+learn what I hear from thee, because I am ignorant and a
+fool.&rdquo;&nbsp; The elder answered, &ldquo;If any man shall
+have fasted continually, and offered prayers every moment, and
+shall have humbled himself to every man, and shall not have loved
+gold, nor parents, nor garments, nor possessions, and if he
+honours his father and mother, and follows the priests of God, he
+shall inherit the eternal kingdom: but he who, on the contrary,
+does not keep those things, he shall inherit the outer darkness
+which God hath prepared for the devil and his angels.&nbsp; All
+these things, my son, are heaped together in a
+monastery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hearing this, the blessed Simeon fell at his feet, saying,
+&ldquo;Thou art my father and my mother, and my teacher of good
+works, and guide to the kingdom of heaven.&nbsp; For thou hast
+gained my soul, which was already being sunk in perdition.&nbsp;
+May the Lord repay thee again for it.&nbsp; For these are the
+things which edify.&nbsp; I will now go into a monastery, where
+God shall choose; and let his will be done on me.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The elder said, &ldquo;My son, before thou enterest, hear
+me.&nbsp; Thou shalt have tribulation; for thou must watch and
+serve in nakedness, and sustain ills without ceasing; and again
+thou shalt be comforted, thou vessel precious to God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And forthwith the blessed Simeon, going out of the church,
+went to the monastery of the holy Timotheus, a wonder-working
+man; and falling down before the gate of the monastery, he lay
+five days, neither eating nor drinking.&nbsp; And on the fifth
+day, the abbot, coming out, asked him, &ldquo;Whence art thou, my
+son?&nbsp; And what parents hast thou, that thou art so
+afflicted?&nbsp; Or what is thy name, lest perchance thou hast
+done some wrong?&nbsp; Or perchance thou art a slave, and fleest
+from thy master?&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the blessed Simeon said with
+tears, &ldquo;By no means, master; but I long to be a servant of
+God, if he so will, because I wish to save my lost soul.&nbsp;
+Bid me, therefore, enter the monastery, and leave all; and send
+me away no more.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the Abbot, taking his hand,
+introduced him into the monastery, saying to the brethren,
+&ldquo;My sons, behold I deliver you this brother; teach him the
+canons of the monastery.&rdquo;&nbsp; Now he was in the monastery
+about four months, serving all without complaint, in which he
+learnt the whole Psalter by heart, receiving every day divine
+food.&nbsp; But the food which he took with his brethren he gave
+away secretly to the poor, not caring for the morrow.&nbsp; So
+the brethren ate at even: but he only on the seventh day.</p>
+<p>But one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took
+the rope from the bucket with which the brethren drew water, and
+wound it round his body from his loins to his neck: and going in,
+said to the brethren, &ldquo;I went out to draw water, and found
+no rope on the bucket.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they said, &ldquo;Hold
+thy peace, brother, lest the abbot know it; till the thing has
+passed over.&rdquo;&nbsp; But his body was wounded by the
+tightness and roughness of the rope, because it cut him to the
+bone, and sank into his flesh till it was hardly seen.&nbsp; But
+one day, some of the brethren going out, found him giving his
+food to the poor; and when they returned, said to the abbot,
+&ldquo;Whence hast thou brought us that man?&nbsp; We cannot
+abstain like him, for he fasts from Lord&rsquo;s day to
+Lord&rsquo;s day, and gives away his food.&rdquo; . . . Then the
+abbot, going out, found as was told him, and said, &ldquo;Son,
+what is it which the brethren tell of thee?&nbsp; Is it not
+enough for thee to fast as we do?&nbsp; Hast thou not heard the
+Gospel, saying of teachers, that the disciple is not above his
+master?&rdquo; . . . The blessed Simeon stood and answered
+nought.&nbsp; And the abbot, being angry, bade strip him, and
+found the rope round him, so that only its outside appeared; and
+cried with a loud voice, saying, &ldquo;Whence has this man come
+to us, wanting to destroy the rule of the monastery?&nbsp; I pray
+thee depart hence, and go whither thou wiliest.&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+with great trouble they took off the rope, and his flesh with it,
+and taking care of him, healed him.</p>
+<p>But after he was healed he went out of the monastery, no man
+knowing of it, and entered a deserted tank, in which was no
+water, where unclean spirits dwelt.&nbsp; And that very night it
+was revealed to the abbot, that a multitude of people surrounded
+the monastery with clubs and swords, saying, &ldquo;Give us
+Simeon the servant of God, Timotheus; else we will burn thee with
+thy monastery, because thou hast angered a just man.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And when he woke, he told the brethren the vision, and how he was
+much disturbed thereby.&nbsp; And another night he saw a
+multitude of strong men standing and saying, &ldquo;Give us
+Simeon the servant of God; for he is beloved by God and the
+angels: why hast thou vexed him?&nbsp; He is greater than thou
+before God; for all the angels are sorry on his behalf.&nbsp; And
+God is minded to set him on high in the world, that by him many
+signs may be done, such as no man has done.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the
+abbot, rising, said with great fear to the brethren, &ldquo;Seek
+me that man, and bring him hither, lest perchance we all die on
+his account.&nbsp; He is truly a saint of God, for I have heard
+and seen great wonders of him.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then all the monks
+went out and searched, but in vain, and told the abbot how they
+had sought him everywhere, save in the deserted tank. . . .&nbsp;
+Then the abbot went, with five brethren, to the tank.&nbsp; And
+making a prayer, he went down into it with the brethren.&nbsp;
+And the blessed Simeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying,
+&ldquo;I beg you, servants of God, let me alone one hour, that I
+may render up my spirit; for yet a little, and it will
+fail.&nbsp; But my soul is very weary, because I have angered the
+Lord.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the abbot said to him, &ldquo;Come,
+servant of God, that we may take thee to the monastery; for I
+know concerning thee that thou art a servant of God.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But when he would not, they brought him by force to the
+monastery.&nbsp; And all fell at his feet, weeping, and saying,
+&ldquo;We have sinned against thee, servant of God; forgive
+us.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the blessed Simeon groaned, saying,
+&ldquo;Wherefore do ye burden an unhappy man and a sinner?&nbsp;
+You are the servants of God, and my fathers.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he
+stayed there about one year.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>After this (says Theodoret) he came to the Telanassus, under
+the peak of the mountain on which he lived till his death; and
+having found there a little house, he remained in it shut up for
+three years.&nbsp; But eager always to increase the riches of
+virtue, he longed, in imitation of the divine Moses and Elias, to
+fast forty days; and tried to persuade Bassus, who was then set
+over the priests in the villages, to leave nothing within by him,
+but to close up the door with clay.&nbsp; He spoke to him of the
+difficulty, and warned him not to think that a violent death was
+a virtue.&nbsp; &ldquo;Put by me then, father,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;ten loaves, and a cruse of water, and if I find my body
+need sustenance, I will partake of them.&rdquo;&nbsp; At the end
+of the days, that wonderful man of God, Bassus, removed the clay,
+and going in, found the food and water untouched, and Simeon
+lying unable to speak or move.&nbsp; Getting a sponge, he
+moistened and opened his lips and then gave him the symbols of
+the divine mysteries; and, strengthened by them, he arose, and
+took some food, chewing little by little lettuces and succory,
+and such like.</p>
+<p>From that time, for twenty-eight years (says Theodoret), he
+had remained fasting continually for forty days at a time.&nbsp;
+But custom had made it more easy to him.&nbsp; For on the first
+days he used to stand and praise God; after that, when through
+emptiness he could stand no longer, he used to sit and perform
+the divine office; and on the last day, even lie down.&nbsp; For
+when his strength failed slowly, he was forced to lie half
+dead.&nbsp; But after he stood on the column he could not bear to
+lie down, but invented another way by which he could stand.&nbsp;
+He fastened a beam to the column, and tied himself to it by
+ropes, and so passed the forty days.&nbsp; But afterwards, when
+he had received greater grace from on high, he did not want even
+that help: but stood for the forty days, taking no food, but
+strengthened by alacrity of soul and divine grace.</p>
+<p>When he had passed three years in that little house, he took
+possession of the peak which has since been so famous; and when
+he had commanded a wall to be made round him, and procured an
+iron chain, twenty cubits long, he fastened one end of it to a
+great stone, and the other to his right foot, so that he could
+not, if he wished, leave those bounds.&nbsp; There he lived,
+continually picturing heaven to himself, and forcing himself to
+contemplate things which are above the heavens; for the iron bond
+did not check the flight of his thoughts.&nbsp; But when the
+wonderful Meletius, to whom the care of the episcopate of Antioch
+was then commended (a man of sense and prudence, and adorned with
+shrewdness of intellect), told him that the iron was superfluous,
+since the will is able enough to impose on the body the chains of
+reason, he gave way, and obeyed his persuasion.&nbsp; And having
+sent for a smith, he bade him strike off the chain.</p>
+<p>[Here follow some painful details unnecessary to be
+translated.]</p>
+<p>When, therefore, his fame was flying far and wide everywhere,
+all ran together, not only the neighbours, but those who were
+many days&rsquo; journey off, some bringing the palsied, some
+begging health for the sick, some that they might become fathers,
+and all wishing to receive from him what they had not received
+from nature; and when they had received, and gained their
+request, they went back joyful, proclaiming the benefits they had
+obtained, and sending many more to beg the same.&nbsp; So, as all
+are coming up from every quarter, and the road is like a river,
+one may see gathered in that place an ocean of men, which
+receives streams from every side; not only of those who live in
+our region, but Ishmaelites, and Persians, and the Armenians who
+are subject to them, and Iberi, and Homerites, and those who
+dwell beyond them.&nbsp; Many have come also from the extreme
+west, Spaniards, and Britons, and Gauls who live between the
+two.&nbsp; Of Italy it is superfluous to speak; for they say that
+at Rome the man has become so celebrated that they have put
+little images of him in all the porches of the shops, providing
+thereby for themselves a sort of safeguard and security.</p>
+<p>When, therefore, they came innumerable (for all tried to touch
+him, and receive some blessing from those skin garments of his),
+thinking it in the first place absurd and unfit that such
+exceeding honour should be paid him, and next, disliking the
+labour of the business, devised that station on the pillar,
+bidding one be built, first of six cubits, then of twelve, next
+of twenty-two, and now of thirty-six.&nbsp; For he longs to fly
+up to heaven, and be freed from this earthly conversation.</p>
+<p>But I believe that this station was made not without divine
+counsel.&nbsp; Wherefore I exhort fault-finders to bridle their
+tongue, and not let it rashly loose, but rather consider that the
+Lord has often devised such things, that he might profit those
+who were too slothful.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>In proof of which, Theodoret quotes the examples of Isaiah,
+Hosea, and Ezekiel; and then goes on to say how God in like
+manner ordained this new and admirable spectacle, by the novelty
+of it drawing all to look, and exhibiting to those who came, a
+lesson which they could trust.&nbsp; For the novelty of the
+spectacle (he says) is a worthy warrant for the teaching; and he
+who came to see goes away instructed in divine things.&nbsp; And
+as those whose lot it is to rule over men, after a certain period
+of time, change the impressions on their coins, sometimes
+stamping them with images of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes
+of angels, and trying, by a new mark, to make the gold more
+precious; so the King of all, adding to piety and true religion
+these new and manifold modes of living, as certain stamps on
+coin, excites to praise the tongues not only of the children of
+faith, but of those who are diseased with unbelief.&nbsp; And
+that so it is, not only words bear witness, but facts proclaim
+aloud.&nbsp; For many myriads of Ishmaelites, who were enslaved
+in the darkness of impiety, have been illuminated by that station
+on the column.&nbsp; For this most shining lamp, set as it were
+upon a candlestick, sent forth all round its rays, like of the
+sun: and one may see (as I said) Iberi coming, and Persians, and
+Armenians, and accepting divine baptism.&nbsp; But the
+Ishmaelites, coming by tribes, 200 and 300 at a time, and
+sometimes even 1,000, deny, with shouts, the error of their
+fathers; and breaking in pieces, before that great illuminator,
+the images which they had worshipped, and renouncing the orgies
+of Venus (for they had received from ancient times the worship of
+that d&aelig;mon), they receive the divine sacraments, and take
+laws from that holy tongue, bidding farewell to their ancestral
+rites, and renouncing the eating of wild asses and camels.&nbsp;
+And this I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard them
+renouncing the impiety of their fathers, and assenting to the
+Evangelic doctrine.</p>
+<p>But once I was in the greatest danger: for he himself told
+them to go to me, and receive priestly benediction, saying that
+they would thence obtain great advantage.&nbsp; But they, having
+run together in somewhat too barbarous fashion, some dragged me
+before, some behind, some sideways; and those who were further
+off, scrambling over the others, and stretching out their hands,
+plucked my beard, or seized my clothes; and I should have been
+stifled by their too warm onset, had not he, shouting out,
+dispersed them all.&nbsp; Such usefulness has that column, which
+is mocked at by scornful men, poured forth; and so great a ray of
+the knowledge of God has it sent forth into the minds of
+barbarians.</p>
+<p>I know also of his having done another thing of this
+kind:&mdash;One tribe was beseeching the divine man, that he
+would send forth some prayer and blessing for their chief: but
+another tribe which was present retorted that he ought not to
+bless that chief, but theirs; for the one was a most unjust man,
+but the other averse to injustice.&nbsp; And when there had been
+a great contention and barbaric wrangling between them, they
+attacked each other.&nbsp; But I, using many words, kept
+exhorting them to be quiet, seeing that the divine man was able
+enough to give a blessing to both.&nbsp; But the one tribe kept
+saying, that the first chief ought not to have it; and the other
+tribe trying to deprive the second chief of it.&nbsp; Then he, by
+threatening them from above, and calling them dogs, hardly
+stilled the quarrel.&nbsp; This I have told, wishing to show
+their great faith.&nbsp; For they would not have thus gone mad
+against each other, had they not believed that the divine
+man&rsquo;s blessing possesses some very great power.</p>
+<p>I saw another miracle, which was very celebrated.&nbsp; One
+coming up (he, too, was a chief of a Saracen tribe) besought the
+divine personage that he would help a man whose limbs had given
+way in paralysis on the road; and he said the misfortune had
+fallen on him in Callinicus, which is a very large camp.&nbsp;
+When he was brought into the midst, the saint bade him renounce
+the impiety of his forefathers; and when he willingly obeyed, he
+asked him if he believed in the Father, the only-begotten Son,
+and the Holy Spirit.&nbsp; And when he confessed that he
+believed&mdash;&ldquo;Believing,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;in their
+names, Arise.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the man had risen, he bade
+him carry away his chief (who was a very large man) on his
+shoulders to his tent.&nbsp; He took him up, and went away
+forthwith; while those who were present raised their voices in
+praise of God.&nbsp; This he commanded, imitating the Lord, who
+bade the paralytic carry his bed.&nbsp; Let no man call this
+imitation tyranny.&nbsp; For his saying is, &ldquo;He who
+believeth in me, the works which I do, he shall do also, and more
+than these shall he do.&rdquo;&nbsp; And, indeed, we have seen
+the fulfilment of this promise.&nbsp; For though the shadow of
+the Lord never worked a miracle, the shadow of the great Peter
+both loosed death, and drove out diseases, and put d&aelig;mons
+to flight.&nbsp; But the Lord it was who did also these miracles
+by his servants; and now likewise, using his name, the divine
+Simeon works his innumerable wonders.</p>
+<p>It befell also that another wonder was worked, by no means
+inferior to the last.&nbsp; For among those who had believed in
+the saving name of the Lord Christ, an Ishmaelite, of no humble
+rank, had made a vow to God, with Simeon as witness.&nbsp; Now
+his promise was this, that he would henceforth to the end abstain
+from animal food.&nbsp; Transgressing this promise once, I know
+not how, he slew a bird, and dared to eat it.&nbsp; But God being
+minded to bring him by reproof to conversion, and to honour his
+servant, who was a witness to the broken vow, the flesh of the
+bird was changed into the nature of a stone, so that, even if he
+wished, he could not thenceforth eat it.&nbsp; For how could he,
+when the body meant for food had turned to stone?&nbsp; The
+barbarian, stupified by this unexpected sight, came with great
+haste to the holy man, bringing to the light the sin which he had
+hidden, and proclaimed his transgression to all, begging pardon
+from God, and invoking the help of the saint, that by his
+all-powerful prayers he might loose him from the bonds of his
+sin.&nbsp; Now many saw that miracle, and felt that the part of
+the bird about the breast consisted of bone and stone.</p>
+<p>But I was not only an ear-witness of his wonders, but also an
+ear-witness of his prophecies concerning futurity.&nbsp; For that
+drought which came, and the great dearth of that year, and the
+famine and pestilence which followed together, he foretold two
+years before, saying that he saw a rod which was laid on man,
+stripes which would be inflicted by it.&nbsp; Moreover, he at
+another time foretold an invasion of locusts, and that it would
+bring no great harm, because the divine clemency soon follows
+punishment.&nbsp; But when thirty days were past, an innumerable
+multitude of them hung aloft, so that they even cut off the
+sun&rsquo;s rays and threw a shadow; and that we all saw plainly:
+but it only damaged the cattle pastures, and in no wise hurt the
+food of man.&nbsp; To me, too, who was attacked by a certain
+person, he signified that the quarrel would end ere a fortnight
+was past; and I learned the truth of the prediction by
+experience.</p>
+<p>Moreover there were seen by him once two rods, which came down
+from the skies, and fell on the eastern and western lands.&nbsp;
+Now the divine man said that they signified the rising of the
+Persian and Scythian nations against the Romans; and told the
+vision to those who were by, and with many tears and assiduous
+prayers, warded that disaster, the threat whereof hung over the
+earth.&nbsp; Certainly the Persian nation, when already armed and
+prepared to invade the Romans, was kept back (the divine will
+being against them) from their attempt, and occupied at home with
+their own troubles.&nbsp; But while I know many other cases of
+this kind, I shall pass them over to avoid prolixity.&nbsp; These
+are surely enough to show the spiritual contemplation of his
+mind.</p>
+<p>His fame was great, also, with the King of the Persians; for
+as the ambassadors told, who came to him, he diligently inquired
+what was his life, and what his miracles.&nbsp; But they say that
+the King&rsquo;s wife also begged oil honoured by his blessing,
+and accepted it as the greatest of gifts.&nbsp; Moreover, all the
+King&rsquo;s courtiers, being moved by his fame, and having heard
+many slanders against him from the Magi, inquired diligently, and
+having learnt the truth, called him a divine man; while the rest
+of the crowd, coming to the muleteers and servants and soldiers,
+both offered money, and begged for a share in the oil of
+benediction.&nbsp; The Queen, too, of the Ishmaelites, longing to
+have a child, sent first some of her most noble subjects to the
+saint, beseeching him that she might become a mother.&nbsp; And
+when her prayer had been granted, and she had her heart&rsquo;s
+desire, she took the son who had been born, and went to the
+divine old man; and (because women were not allowed to approach
+him) sent the babe, entreating his blessing on it . . . [Here
+Theodoret puts into the Queen&rsquo;s mouth words which it is
+unnecessary to quote.]</p>
+<p>But how long do I strive to measure the depths of the Atlantic
+sea?&nbsp; For as they are unfathomable by man, so do the things
+which he does daily surpass narration.&nbsp; I, however, admire
+above all these things his endurance; for night and day he
+stands, so as to be seen by all.&nbsp; For as the doors are taken
+away, and a large part of the wall around pulled down, he is set
+forth as a new and wondrous spectacle to all; now standing long,
+now bowing himself frequently, and offering adoration to
+God.&nbsp; Many of those who stand by count these adorations; and
+once a man with me, when he had counted 1,244, and then missed,
+gave up counting: but always, when he bows himself, he touches
+his feet with his forehead.&nbsp; For as his stomach takes food
+only once in the week, and that very little&mdash;no more than is
+received in the divine sacraments,&mdash;his back admits of being
+easily bent. . . .&nbsp; But nothing which happens to him
+overpowers his philosophy; he bears nobly both voluntary and
+involuntary pains, and conquers both by readiness of will.</p>
+<p>There came once from Arabena a certain good man, and honoured
+with the ministry of Christ.&nbsp; He, when he had come to that
+mountain peak,&mdash;&ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;by
+the very truth which converts the human race to itself&mdash;Art
+thou a man, or an incorporeal nature?&rdquo;&nbsp; But when all
+there were displeased with the question, the saint bade them all
+be silent, and said to him, &ldquo;Why hast thou asked me
+this?&rdquo;&nbsp; He answered, &ldquo;Because I hear every one
+saying publicly, that thou neither eatest nor sleepest; but both
+are properties of man, and no one who has a human nature could
+have lived without food and sleep.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the saint
+bade them set a ladder to the column, and him to come up; and
+first to look at his hands, and then feel inside his cloak of
+skins; and to see not only his feet, but a severe wound.&nbsp;
+But when he saw that he was a man, and the size of that wound,
+and learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came down and
+told me all.</p>
+<p>At the public festivals he showed an endurance of another
+kind.&nbsp; For from the setting of the sun till it had come
+again to the eastern horizon, he stood all night with hands
+uplift to heaven, neither soothed with sleep nor conquered by
+fatigue.&nbsp; But in toils so great, and so great a magnitude of
+deeds, and multitude of miracles, his self-esteem is as moderate
+as if he were in dignity the least of all men.&nbsp; Beside his
+modesty, he is easy of access of speech, and gracious, and
+answers every man who speaks to him, whether he be
+handicraftsman, beggar, or rustic.&nbsp; And from the bounteous
+God he has received also the gift of teaching, and making his
+exhortations twice a day, he delights the ears of those who hear,
+discoursing much on grace, and setting forth the instructions of
+the Divine Spirit to look up and fly toward heaven, and depart
+from the earth, and imagine the kingdom which is expected, and
+fear the threats of Gehenna, and despise earthly things, and wait
+for things to come.&nbsp; He may be seen, too, acting as judge,
+and giving right and just decisions.&nbsp; This, and the like, is
+done after the ninth hour.&nbsp; For all night, and through the
+day to the ninth hour, he prays perpetually.&nbsp; After that, he
+first sets forth the divine teaching to those who are present;
+then having heard each man&rsquo;s petition, after he has
+performed some cures, he settles the quarrels of those between
+whom there is any dispute.&nbsp; About sunset he begins the rest
+of his converse with God.&nbsp; But though he is employed in this
+way, and does all this, he does not give up the care of the holy
+Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks,
+sometimes checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to
+flight the bands of heretics, and sometimes sending messages
+concerning these last to the Emperor; sometimes, too, stirring up
+rulers to zeal for God, and sometimes exhorting the pastors of
+the Churches to bestow more care upon their flocks.</p>
+<p>I have gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by
+one drop, and to give those who meet with my writing a taste on
+the finger of the sweetness of the honey.&nbsp; But there remains
+(as is to be expected) much more; and if he should live longer,
+he will probably add still greater wonders. . . .</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Thus far Theodoret.&nbsp; Antony gives some other details of
+Simeon&rsquo;s life upon the column.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>The devil, he says, in envy transformed himself into the
+likeness of an angel, shining in splendour, with fiery horses,
+and a fiery chariot, and appeared close to the column on which
+the blessed Simeon stood, and shone with glory like an
+angel.&nbsp; And the devil said with bland speeches,
+&ldquo;Simeon, hear my words, which the Lord hath commanded
+thee.&nbsp; He has sent me, his angel, with a chariot and horses
+of fire, that I may carry thee away, as I carried Elias.&nbsp;
+For thy time is come.&nbsp; Do thou, in like wise, ascend now
+with me into the chariot, because the Lord of heaven and earth
+has sent it down.&nbsp; Let us ascend together into the heavens,
+that the angels and archangels may see thee, with Mary the mother
+of the Lord, with the Apostles and martyrs, the confessors and
+prophets; because they rejoice to see thee, that thou mayest pray
+to the Lord, who hast made thee after his own image.&nbsp; Verily
+I have spoken to thee: delay not to ascend.&rdquo;&nbsp; Simeon,
+having ended his prayer, said, &ldquo;Lord, wilt thou carry me, a
+sinner, into heaven?&rdquo;&nbsp; And lifting his right foot that
+he might step into the chariot, he lifted also his right hand,
+and made the sign of Christ.&nbsp; When he had made the sign of
+the cross, forthwith the devil appeared nowhere, but vanished
+with his device, as dust before the face of the wind.&nbsp; Then
+understood Simeon that it was an art of the devil.</p>
+<p>Having recovered himself, therefore, he said to his foot,
+&ldquo;Thou shalt not return back hence, but stand here until my
+death, when the Lord shall send for me a sinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>[Here follow more painful stories, which had best be
+omitted.]</p>
+<p>But after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to
+see him, but was forbidden, because no woman entered that
+place.&nbsp; But when the blessed Simeon heard the voice of his
+mother, he said to her, &ldquo;Bear up, my mother, a little
+while, and we shall see each other, if God will.&rdquo;&nbsp; But
+she, hearing this, began to weep, and tearing her hair, rebuked
+him, saying, &ldquo;Son, why hast thou done this?&nbsp; In return
+for the body in which I bore thee, thou hast filled me full of
+grief.&nbsp; For the milk with which I nourished thee, thou hast
+given me tears.&nbsp; For the kiss with which I kissed thee, thou
+hast given me bitter pangs of heart.&nbsp; For the grief and
+labour which I have suffered, thou hast laid on me cruel
+stripes.&rdquo;&nbsp; And she spoke so much that she made us all
+weep.&nbsp; The blessed Simeon, hearing the voice of her who bore
+him, put his face in his hands and wept bitterly; and commanded
+her, saying, &ldquo;Lady mother, be still a little time, and we
+shall see each other in eternal rest.&rdquo;&nbsp; But she began
+to say, &ldquo;By Christ, who formed thee, if there is a
+probability of seeing thee, who hast been so long a stranger to
+me, let me see thee; or if not, let me only hear thy voice and
+die at once; for thy father is dead in sorrow because of
+thee.&nbsp; And now do not destroy me for very bitterness, my
+son.&rdquo;&nbsp; Saying this, for sorrow and weeping she fell
+asleep; for during three days and three nights she had not ceased
+entreating him.&nbsp; Then the blessed Simeon prayed the Lord for
+her, and she forthwith gave up the ghost.</p>
+<p>But they took up her body, and brought it where he could see
+it.&nbsp; And he said, weeping, &ldquo;The Lord receive thee in
+joy, because thou hast endured tribulation for me, and borne me,
+and nursed and nourished me with labour.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as he
+said that, his mother&rsquo;s countenance perspired, and her body
+was stirred in the sight of us all.&nbsp; But he, lifting up his
+eyes to heaven, said, &ldquo;Lord God of virtues, who sittest
+above the cherubim, and searchest the foundations of the abyss,
+who knewest Adam before he was; who hast promised the riches of
+the kingdom of heaven to those who love thee; who didst speak to
+Moses in the bush of fire; who blessedst Abraham our father; who
+bringest into Paradise the souls of the just, and sinkest the
+souls of the impious to perdition; who didst humble the lions,
+and mitigate for thy servants the strong fires of the Chaldees;
+who didst nourish Elisha by the ravens which brought him
+food&mdash;receive her soul in peace, and put her in the place of
+the holy fathers, for thine is the power for ever and
+ever.&rdquo;</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>Antony then goes on to relate the later years of the
+saint&rsquo;s life.</p>
+<p>He tells how Simeon, some time after this, ascended the column
+of forty cubits; how a great dragon (serpent) crawled towards it,
+and coiled round it, entreating (so it seemed) to be freed from a
+spike of wood which had entered its eye; and how, St. Simeon took
+pity on it, he caused the spike (which was a cubit long) to come
+out.</p>
+<p>He tells how a woman, drinking water from a jar at night,
+swallowed a snake unawares, which grew within her, till she was
+brought to the blessed Simeon, who commanded some of the water of
+the monastery to be given her; on which the serpent crawled out
+of her mouth, three cubits long, and burst immediately; and was
+hung up there seven days, as a testimony to many.</p>
+<p>He tells how, when there was great want of water, St. Simeon
+prayed till the earth opened on the east of the monastery, and a
+cave full of water was discovered, which had never failed them to
+that day.</p>
+<p>He tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the
+saint, saw a doe go by, and commanded her to stop, &ldquo;by the
+prayers of St. Simeon;&rdquo; which when she had done, they
+killed and ate her, and came to St. Simeon with the skin.&nbsp;
+But they were all struck dumb, and hardly cured after two
+years.&nbsp; And the skin of the doe they hung up, for a
+testimony to many.</p>
+<p>He tells of a huge leopard, which slew men and cattle all
+around; and how St. Simeon bade sprinkle in his haunts soil or
+water from the monastery; and when men went again, they found the
+leopard dead.</p>
+<p>He tells how, when St. Simeon cured any one, he bade him go
+home, and honour God who had healed him, and not dare to say that
+Simeon had cured him, lest a worse thing should suddenly come to
+him; and not to presume to swear by the name of the Lord, for it
+was a grave sin; but to swear, &ldquo;whether justly or unjustly,
+by him, lowly and a sinner.&nbsp; Wherefore all the Easterns, and
+barbarous tribes in those regions, swear by Simeon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He tells how a robber from Antioch, Jonathan by name, fled to
+St. Simeon, and embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and saying
+how he had committed every crime, and had come thither to
+repent.&nbsp; And how the saint said, &ldquo;Of such is the
+kingdom of heaven: but do not try to tempt me, lest thou be found
+again in the sins which thou hast cast away.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then
+came the officials from Antioch, demanding that he should be
+given up, to be cast to the wild beasts.&nbsp; But Simeon
+answered, &ldquo;My sons, I brought him not hither, but One
+greater than I; for he helps such as this man, and of such is the
+kingdom of heaven.&nbsp; But if you can enter, carry him hence; I
+cannot give him up, for I fear him who has sent the man to
+me.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they, struck with fear, went away.&nbsp;
+Then Jonathan lay for seven days embracing the column, and then
+asked the saint leave to go.&nbsp; The saint asked him if he were
+going back to sin?&nbsp; &ldquo;No, lord,&rdquo; he said;
+&ldquo;but my time is fulfilled,&rdquo; and straightway he gave
+up the ghost; and when officials came again from Antioch,
+demanding him, Simeon replied: &ldquo;He who brought him came
+with a multitude of the heavenly host, and is able to send into
+Tartarus your city, and all who dwell in it, who also has
+reconciled this man to himself; and I was afraid lest he should
+slay me suddenly.&nbsp; Therefore weary me no more, a humble man
+and poor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But after a few years (says Antony) it befell one day that he
+bowed himself in prayer, and remained so three days&mdash;that
+is, the Friday, the Sabbath, and the Lord&rsquo;s day.&nbsp; Then
+I was terrified, and went up to him, and stood before his face,
+and said to him, &ldquo;Master, arise: bless us; for the people
+have been waiting three days and three nights for a blessing from
+thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he answered me not; and I said again to
+him: &ldquo;Wherefore dost thou grieve me, lord? or in what have
+I offended?&nbsp; I beseech thee, put out thy hand to me; or,
+perchance, thou hast already departed from us?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one;
+for I feared to touch him: and, standing about half an hour, I
+bent down, and put my ear to listen; and there was no breathing:
+but a fragrance as of many scents rose from his body.&nbsp; And
+so I understood that he rested in the Lord; and, turning faint, I
+wept most bitterly; and, bending down, I kissed his eyes, and
+clasped his beard and hair, and reproaching him, I said:
+&ldquo;To whom dost thou leave me, lord? or where shall I seek
+thy angelic doctrine?&nbsp; What answer shall I make for thee? or
+whose soul will look at this column, without thee, and not
+grieve?&nbsp; What answer shall I make to the sick, when they
+come here to seek thee, and find thee not?&nbsp; What shall I
+say, poor creature that I am?&nbsp; To-day I see thee; to-morrow
+I shall look right and left, and not find thee.&nbsp; And what
+covering shall I put upon thy column?&nbsp; Woe to me, when folk
+shall come from afar, seeking thee, and shall not find
+thee!&rdquo;&nbsp; And, for much sorrow, I fell asleep.</p>
+<p>And forthwith he appeared to me, and said: &ldquo;I will not
+leave this column, nor this place, and this blessed mountain,
+where I was illuminated.&nbsp; But go down, satisfy the people,
+and send word secretly to Antioch, lest a tumult arise.&nbsp; For
+I have gone to rest, as the Lord willed: but do thou not cease to
+minister in this place, and the Lord shall repay thee thy wages
+in heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But, rising from sleep, I said, in terror, &ldquo;Master,
+remember me in thy holy rest.&rdquo;&nbsp; And, lifting up his
+garments, I fell at his feet, and kissed them; and, holding his
+hands, I laid them on my eyes, saying, &ldquo;Bless me, I beseech
+thee, my lord!&rdquo;&nbsp; And again I wept, and said,
+&ldquo;What relics shall I carry away from thee as
+memorials?&rdquo;&nbsp; And as I said that his body was moved;
+therefore I was afraid to touch him.</p>
+<p>And, that no one might know, I came down quickly, and sent a
+faithful brother to the Bishop at Antioch.&nbsp; He came at once
+with three Bishops, and with them Ardaburius, the master of the
+soldiers, with his people, and stretched curtains round the
+column, and fastened their clothes around it.&nbsp; For they were
+cloth of gold.</p>
+<p>And when they laid him down by the altar before the column,
+and gathered themselves together, birds flew round the column,
+crying, and as it were lamenting, in all men&rsquo;s sight; and
+the wailing of the people and of the cattle resounded for seven
+miles away; yea, even the hills, and the fields, and the trees
+were sad around that place; for everywhere a dark cloud hung
+about it.&nbsp; And I watched an angel coming to visit him; and,
+about the seventh hour, seven old men talked with that angel,
+whose face was like lightning, and his garments as snow.&nbsp;
+And I watched his voice, in fear and trembling, as long as I
+could hear it; but what he said I cannot tell.</p>
+<p>But when the holy Simeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of
+Antioch, wishing to take some of his beard for a blessing,
+stretched out his hand; and forthwith it was dried up; and
+prayers were made to God for him, and so his hand was restored
+again.</p>
+<p>Then, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to Antioch,
+with psalms and hymns.&nbsp; But all the people round that region
+wept, because the protection of such mighty relics was taken from
+them, and because the Bishop of Antioch had sworn that no man
+should touch his body.</p>
+<p>But when they came to the fifth milestone from Antioch, to the
+village which is called Mero&euml;, no one could move him.&nbsp;
+Then a certain man, deaf and dumb for forty years, who had
+committed a very great crime, suddenly fell down before the bier,
+and began to cry, &ldquo;Thou art well come, servant of God; for
+thy coming will save me: and if I shall obtain the grace to live,
+I will serve thee all the days of my life.&rdquo;&nbsp; And,
+rising, he caught hold of one of the mules which carried the
+bier, and forthwith moved himself from that place.&nbsp; And so
+the man was made whole from that hour.</p>
+<p>Then all going out of the city of Antioch received the body of
+the holy Simeon on gold and silver, with psalms and hymns, and
+with many lamps brought it into the greater church, and thence to
+another church, which is called Penitence.&nbsp; Moreover, many
+virtues are wrought at his tomb, more than in his life; and the
+man who was made whole served there till the day of his
+death.&nbsp; But many offered treasures to the Bishop of Antioch
+for the faith, begging relics from the body: but, on account of
+his oath, he never gave them.</p>
+<p>I, Antony, lowly and a sinner, have set forth briefly, as far
+as I could, this lesson.&nbsp; But blessed is he who has this
+writing in a book, and reads it in the church and house of God;
+and when he shall have brought it to his memory, he shall receive
+a reward from the Most High; to whom is honour, power, and
+virtue, for ever and ever.&nbsp; Amen.</p>
+
+<div class="gapspace">&nbsp;</div>
+<p>After such a fantastic story as this of Simeon, it is full
+time (some readers may have thought that it was full time long
+since) to give my own opinion of the miracles, visions,
+d&aelig;mons, and other portents which occur in the lives of
+these saints.&nbsp; I have refrained from doing so as yet,
+because I wished to begin by saying everything on behalf of these
+old hermits which could honestly be said, and to prejudice my
+readers&rsquo; minds in their favour rather than against them;
+because I am certain that if we look on them merely with scorn
+and ridicule,&mdash;if we do not acknowledge and honour all in
+them which was noble, virtuous, and honest,&mdash;we shall never
+be able to combat their errors, either in our own hearts or in
+those of our children: and that we may have need to do so is but
+too probable.&nbsp; In this age, as in every other age of
+materialism and practical atheism, a revulsion in favour of
+superstition is at hand; I may say is taking place round us
+now.&nbsp; Doctrines are tolerated as possibly
+true,&mdash;persons are regarded with respect and admiration, who
+would have been looked on, even fifty years ago, if not with
+horror, yet with contempt, as beneath the serious notice of
+educated English people.&nbsp; But it is this very contempt which
+has brought about the change of opinion concerning them.&nbsp; It
+has been discovered that they were not altogether so absurd as
+they seemed; that the public mind, in its ignorance, has been
+unjust to them; and, in hasty repentance for that injustice, too
+many are ready to listen to those who will tell them that these
+things are not absurd at all&mdash;that there is no absurdity in
+believing that the leg-bone of St. Simon Stock may possess
+miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the departed
+communicate with their friends by rapping on the table.&nbsp; The
+ugly after-crop of superstition which is growing up among us now
+is the just and natural punishment of our materialism&mdash;I may
+say, of our practical atheism.&nbsp; For those who will not
+believe in the real spiritual world, in which each man&rsquo;s
+soul stands face to face all day long with Almighty God, the
+Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, are sure at last to crave
+after some false spiritual world, and seek, like the evil and
+profligate generation of the Jews, after visible signs and
+material wonders.&nbsp; And those who will not believe that the
+one true and living God is above their path and about their bed
+and spieth out all their ways, and that in him they live and move
+and have their being, are but too likely at last to people with
+fancied saints and d&aelig;mons that void in the imagination and
+in the heart which their own unbelief has made.</p>
+<p>Are we then to suppose that these old hermits had lost faith
+in God?&nbsp; On the contrary, they were the only men in that day
+who had faith in God.&nbsp; And, if they had faith in any other
+things or persons beside God, they merely shared in the general
+popular ignorance and mistakes of their own age; and we must not
+judge those who, born in an age of darkness, were struggling
+earnestly toward the light, as we judge those who, born in an age
+of scientific light, are retiring of their own will back into the
+darkness.</p>
+<p>Before I enter upon the credibility of these alleged
+saints&rsquo; miracles, I must guard my readers carefully from
+supposing that I think miracles impossible.&nbsp; Heaven
+forbid.&nbsp; He would be a very rash person who should do that,
+in a world which swarms with greater wonders than those recorded
+in the biography of a saint.&nbsp; For, after all, which is more
+wonderful, that God should be able to restore the dead to life,
+or that he should be able to give life at all?&nbsp; Again, as
+for these miracles being contrary to our experience, that is no
+very valid argument against them; for equally contrary to our
+experience is every new discovery of science, every strange
+phenomenon among plants and animals, every new experiment in a
+chemical lecture.</p>
+<p>The more we know of science the more we must confess, that
+nothing is too strange to be true: and therefore we must not
+blame or laugh at those who in old times believed in strange
+things which were not true.&nbsp; They had an honest and rational
+sense of the infinite and wonderful nature of the universe, and
+of their own ignorance about it; and they were ready to believe
+anything, as the truly wise man will be ready also.&nbsp; Only,
+from ignorance of the laws of the universe, they did not know
+what was likely to be true and what was not; and therefore they
+believed many things which experience has proved to be false;
+just as Seba or any of the early naturalists were ready to
+believe in six-legged dragons, or in the fatal power of the
+basilisk&rsquo;s eye; fancies which, if they had been facts,
+would not have been nearly as wonderful as the transformation of
+the commonest insect, or the fertilization of the meanest weed:
+but which are rejected now, not because they are too wonderful,
+but simply because experience has proved them to be untrue.&nbsp;
+And experience, it must be remembered, is the only sound test of
+truth.&nbsp; As long as men will settle beforehand for
+themselves, without experience, what they ought to see, so long
+will they be perpetually fancying that they or others have seen
+it; and their faith, as it is falsely called, will delude not
+only their reason, but their very hearing, sight, and touch.</p>
+<p>In this age we see no supernatural prodigies, because there
+are none to see; and when we are told that the reason why we see
+no prodigies is because we have no faith, we answer (if we be
+sensible), Just so.&nbsp; As long as people had faith, in plain
+English believed, that they could be magically cured of a
+disease, they thought that they or others were so cured.&nbsp; As
+long as they believed that ghosts could be seen, every silly
+person saw them.&nbsp; As long as they believed that d&aelig;mons
+transformed themselves into an animal&rsquo;s shape, they said,
+&ldquo;The devil croaked at me this morning in the shape of a
+raven; and therefore my horse fell with me.&rdquo;&nbsp; As long
+as they believed that witches could curse them, they believed
+that an old woman in the next parish had overlooked them, their
+cattle, and their crops; and that therefore they were poor,
+diseased, and unfortunate.&nbsp; These dreams, which were common
+among the peasants in remote districts five-and-twenty years ago,
+have vanished, simply from the spread (by the grace of God, as I
+hold) of an inductive habit of mind; of the habit of looking
+coolly, boldly, carefully, at facts; till now, even among the
+most ignorant peasantry, the woman who says that she has seen a
+ghost is likely not to be complimented on her assertion.&nbsp;
+But it does not follow that that woman&rsquo;s grandmother, when
+she said that she saw a ghost, was a consciously dishonest
+person; on the contrary, so complex and contradictory is human
+nature, she would have been, probably, a person of more than
+average intellect and earnestness; and her instinct of the
+invisible and the infinite (which is that which raises man above
+the brutes) would have been, because misinformed, the honourable
+cause of her error.&nbsp; And thus we may believe of the good
+hermits, of whom prodigies are recorded.</p>
+<p>As to the truth of the prodigies themselves, there are several
+ways of looking at them.</p>
+<p>First, we may neither believe nor disbelieve them; but talk of
+them as &ldquo;devout fairy tales,&rdquo; religious romances, and
+allegories; and so save ourselves the trouble of judging whether
+they were true.&nbsp; That is at least an easy and pleasant
+method; very fashionable in a careless, unbelieving age like
+this: but in following it we shall be somewhat cowardly; for
+there is hardly any matter a clear judgment on which is more
+important just now than these same saints&rsquo; miracles.</p>
+<p>Next, we may believe them utterly and all; and that is also an
+easy and pleasant method.&nbsp; But if we follow it, we shall be
+forced to believe, among other facts, that St. Paphnutius was
+carried miraculously across a river, because he was too modest to
+undress himself and wade; that St. Helenus rode a savage
+crocodile across a river, and then commanded it to die; and that
+it died accordingly upon the spot; and that St. Goar, entering
+the palace of the Archbishop of Tr&ecirc;ves, hung his cape on a
+sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.&nbsp; And many other like things
+we shall be forced to believe, with which this book has no
+concern.</p>
+<p>Or, again, we may believe as much as we can, because we should
+like, if we could, to believe all.&nbsp; But as we have
+not&mdash;no man has as yet&mdash;any criterion by which we can
+judge how much of these stories we ought to believe and how much
+not, which actually happened and which did not, therefore we
+shall end (as not only the most earnest and pious, but the most
+clear and logical persons, who have taken up this view, have
+ended already) by believing all: which is an end not to be
+desired.</p>
+<p>Or we may believe as few as possible of them, because we
+should like, if we could, to believe none.&nbsp; And this method,
+for the reason aforesaid (namely, that there is no criterion by
+which we can settle what to believe and what not), usually ends
+in believing none at all.</p>
+<p>This, of believing none at all, is the last method; and this,
+I confess fairly, I am inclined to think is the right one; and
+that these good hermits worked no real miracles and saw no real
+visions whatsoever.</p>
+<p>I confess that this is a very serious assertion.&nbsp; For
+there is as much evidence in favour of these hermits&rsquo;
+miracles and visions as there is, with most men, of the existence
+of China; and much more than there, with most men, is of the
+earth&rsquo;s going round the sun.</p>
+<p>But the truth is, that evidence, in most matters of
+importance, is worth very little.&nbsp; Very few people decide a
+question on its facts, but on their own prejudices as to what
+they would like to have happened.&nbsp; Very few people are
+judges of evidence; not even of their own eyes and ears.&nbsp;
+Very few persons, when they see a thing, know what they have
+seen, and what not.&nbsp; They tell you quite honestly, not what
+they saw, but what they think they ought to have seen, or should
+like to have seen.&nbsp; It is a fact too often conveniently
+forgotten, that in every human crowd the majority will be more or
+less bad, or at least foolish; the slaves of anger, spite,
+conceit, vanity, sordid hope, and sordid fear.&nbsp; But let them
+be as honest and as virtuous as they may, pleasure, terror, and
+the desire of seeming to have seen or heard more than their
+neighbours, and all about it, make them exaggerate.&nbsp; If you
+take apart five honest men, who all stood by and saw the same man
+do anything strange, offensive, or even exciting, no two of them
+will give you quite the same account of it.&nbsp; If you leave
+them together, while excited, an hour before you question them,
+they will have compared notes and made up one story, which will
+contain all their mistakes combined; and it will require the
+skill of a practised barrister to pick the grain of wheat out of
+the chaff.</p>
+<p>Moreover, when people are crowded together under any
+excitement, there is nothing which they will not make each other
+believe.&nbsp; They will make each other believe in
+spirit-rapping, table-turning, the mesmeric fluid,
+electro-biology; that they saw the lion on Northumberland House
+wagging his tail; <a name="citation203"></a><a
+href="#footnote203" class="citation">[203]</a> that witches have
+been seen riding in the air; that the Jews had poisoned the
+wells; that&mdash;but why go further into the sad catalogue of
+human absurdities, and the crimes which have followed them?&nbsp;
+Every one is ashamed of not seeing what every one else sees, and
+persuades himself against his own eye sight for fear of seeming
+stupid or ill-conditioned; and therefore in all evidence, the
+fewer witnesses, the more truth, because the evidence of ten men
+is worth more than that of a hundred together; and the evidence
+of a thousand men together is worth still less.</p>
+<p>Now, if people are savage and ignorant, diseased and
+poverty-stricken; even if they are merely excited and credulous,
+and quite sure that something wonderful must happen, then they
+will be also quite certain that something wonderful has happened;
+and their evidence will be worth nothing at all.</p>
+<p>Moreover, suppose that something really wonderful has
+happened; suppose, for instance, that some nervous or paralytic
+person has been suddenly restored to strength by the command of a
+saint or of some other remarkable man.&nbsp; This is quite
+possible, I may say common; and it is owing neither to physical
+nor to so-called spiritual causes, but simply to the power which
+a strong mind has over a weak one, to make it exert itself, and
+cure itself by its own will, though but for a time.</p>
+<p>When this good news comes to be told, and to pass from mouth
+to mouth, it ends of quite a different shape from that in which
+it began.&nbsp; It has been added to, taken from, twisted in
+every direction according to the fancy or the carelessness of
+each teller, till what really happened in the first case no one
+will be able to say; <a name="citation204"></a><a
+href="#footnote204" class="citation">[204]</a> and this is,
+therefore, what actually happened, in the case of these reported
+wonders.&nbsp; Moreover (and this is the most important
+consideration of all) for men to be fair judges of what really
+happens, they must have somewhat sound minds in somewhat sound
+bodies; which no man can have (however honest and virtuous) who
+gives himself up, as did these old hermits, to fasting and
+vigils.&nbsp; That continued sleeplessness produces delusions,
+and at last actual madness, every physician knows; and they know
+also, as many a poor sailor has known when starving on a wreck,
+and many a poor soldier in such a retreat as that of Napoleon
+from Moscow, that extreme hunger and thirst produce delusions
+also, very similar to (and caused much in the same way as) those
+produced by ardent spirits; so that many a wretched creature ere
+now has been taken up for drunkenness, who has been simply
+starving to death.</p>
+<p>Whence it follows that these good hermits, by continual fasts
+and vigils, must have put themselves (and their histories prove
+that they did put themselves) into a state of mental disease, in
+which their evidence was worth nothing; a state in which the mind
+cannot distinguish between facts and dreams; in which life itself
+is one dream; in which (as in the case of madness, or of a
+feverish child) the brain cannot distinguish between the objects
+which are outside it and the imaginations which are inside
+it.&nbsp; And it is plain, that the more earnest and pious, and
+therefore the more ascetic, one of these good men was, the more
+utterly would his brain be in a state of chronic disease.&nbsp;
+God forbid that we should scorn them, therefore, or think the
+worse of them in any way.&nbsp; They were animated by a truly
+noble purpose, the resolution to be good according to their
+light; they carried out that purpose with heroical endurance, and
+they have their reward: but this we must say, if we be rational
+people, that on their method of holiness, the more holy any one
+of them was, the less trustworthy was his account of any matter
+whatsoever; and that the hermit&rsquo;s peculiar temptations
+(quite unknown to the hundreds of unmarried persons who lead
+quiet and virtuous, because rational and healthy, lives) are to
+be attributed, not as they thought, to a d&aelig;mon, but to a
+more or less unhealthy nervous system.</p>
+<p>It must be remembered, moreover, in justice to these old
+hermits, that they did not invent the belief that the air was
+full of d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; All the Eastern nations had believed
+in Genii (Jinns), Fairies (Peris), and Devas, Divs, or
+devils.&nbsp; The Devas of the early Hindus were beneficent
+beings: to the eyes of the old Persians (in their hatred of
+idolatry and polytheism), they appeared evil beings, Divs, or
+Devils.&nbsp; And even so the genii and d&aelig;mons of the Roman
+Empire became, in the eyes of the early Christians, wicked and
+cruel spirits.</p>
+<p>And they had their reasons, and on the whole sound ones, for
+so regarding them.&nbsp; The educated classes had given up any
+honest and literal worship of the old gods.&nbsp; They were
+trying to excuse themselves for their lingering half belief in
+them, by turning them into allegories, powers of nature,
+metaphysical abstractions, as did Porphyry and Iamblichus,
+Plotinus and Proclus, and the rest of the Neo-Platonist school of
+aristocratic philosophers and fine ladies: but the lower classes
+still, in every region, kept up their own local beliefs and
+worships, generally of the most foul and brutal kind.&nbsp; The
+animal worship of Egypt among the lower classes was sufficiently
+detestable in the time of Herodotus.&nbsp; It had certainly not
+improved in that of Juvenal and Persius; and was still less
+likely to have improved afterwards.&nbsp; This is a subject so
+shocking that it can be only hinted at.&nbsp; But as a single
+instance&mdash;what wonder if the early hermits of Egypt looked
+on the crocodile as something diabolic, after seeing it, for
+generations untold, petted and worshipped in many a city, simply
+because it was the incarnate symbol of brute strength, cruelty,
+and cunning?&nbsp; We must remember, also, that earlier
+generations (the old Norsemen and Germans just as much as the old
+Egyptians) were wont to look on animals as more miraculous than
+we do; as more akin, in many cases, to human beings; as guided,
+not by a mere blind instinct, but by an intellect which was
+allied to, and often surpassed man&rsquo;s intellect.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The bear,&rdquo; said the old Norsemen, &ldquo;had ten
+men&rsquo;s strength, and eleven men&rsquo;s wit;&rdquo; and in
+some such light must the old hermits have looked on the
+hy&aelig;na, &ldquo;bellua,&rdquo; the monster <i>par
+excellence</i>; or on the crocodile, the hippopotamus, and the
+poisonous snakes, which have been objects of terror and adoration
+in every country where they have been formidable.&nbsp; Whether
+the hy&aelig;nas were d&aelig;mons, or were merely sent by the
+d&aelig;mons, St. Antony and St. Athanasius do not clearly
+define, for they did not know.&nbsp; It was enough for them that
+the beasts prowled at night in those desert cities, which were,
+according to the opinions, not only of the Easterns, but of the
+Romans, the special haunt of ghouls, witches, and all uncanny
+things.&nbsp; Their fiendish laughter&mdash;which, when heard
+even in a modern menagerie, excites and shakes most
+person&rsquo;s nerves&mdash;rang through hearts and brains which
+had no help or comfort, save in God alone.&nbsp; The beast tore
+up the dead from their graves; devoured alike the belated child
+and the foulest offal; and was in all things a type and
+incarnation of that which man ought not to be.&nbsp; Why should
+not he, so like the worst of men, have some bond or kindred with
+the evil beings who were not men?&nbsp; Why should not the
+graceful and deadly cobra, the horrid cerastes, the huge
+throttling python, and even more, the loathly puff-adder,
+undistinguishable from the gravel among which he lay coiled, till
+he leaped furiously and unswerving, as if shot from a bow, upon
+his prey&mdash;why should not they too be kindred to that evil
+power who had been, in the holiest and most ancient books,
+personified by the name of the Serpent?&nbsp; Before we have a
+right to say that the hermits&rsquo; view of these deadly animals
+was not the most rational, as well as the most natural, which
+they could possibly have taken up, we must put ourselves in their
+places; and look at nature as they had learnt to look at it, not
+from Scripture and Christianity, so much as from the immemorial
+traditions of their heathen ancestors.</p>
+<p>If it be argued, that they ought to have been well enough
+acquainted with these beasts to be aware of their merely animal
+nature, the answer is&mdash;that they were probably not well
+acquainted with the beasts of the desert.&nbsp; They had never,
+perhaps, before their &ldquo;conversion,&rdquo; left the narrow
+valley, well tilled and well inhabited, which holds the
+Nile.&nbsp; A climb from it into the barren mountains and deserts
+east and west was a journey out of the world into chaos, and the
+region of the unknown and the horrible, which demanded high
+courage from the unarmed and effeminate Egyptian, who knew not
+what monster he might meet ere sundown.&nbsp; Moreover, it is
+very probable that during these centuries of decadence, in Egypt,
+as in other parts of the Roman Empire, &ldquo;the wild beasts of
+the field had increased&rdquo; on the population, and were
+reappearing in the more cultivated grounds.</p>
+<p>But these old hermits appear perpetually in another, and a
+more humane, if not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers
+of savage beasts.&nbsp; Those who wish to know all which can be
+alleged in favour of their having possessed such a power, should
+read M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s chapter, &ldquo;Les Moines et la
+Nature.&rdquo; <a name="citation209"></a><a href="#footnote209"
+class="citation">[209]</a>&nbsp; All that learning and eloquence
+can say in favour of the theory is said there; and with a candour
+which demands from no man full belief of many beautiful but
+impossible stories, &ldquo;travesties of historic verity,&rdquo;
+which have probably grown up from ever-varying tradition in the
+course of ages.&nbsp; M. de Montalembert himself points out a
+probable explanation of many of them:&mdash;An ingenious scholar
+of our times<a name="citation210"></a><a href="#footnote210"
+class="citation">[210]</a> (he says) has pointed out their true
+and legitimate origin&mdash;at least in Ancient Gaul.&nbsp;
+According to him, after the gradual disappearance of the
+Gallo-Roman population, the oxen, the horses, the dogs had
+returned to the wild state; and it was in the forest that the
+Breton missionaries had to seek these animals, to employ them
+anew for domestic use.&nbsp; The miracle was, to restore to man
+the command and the enjoyment of those creatures, which God had
+given him as instruments.</p>
+<p>This theory is probable enough, and will explain, doubtless,
+many stories.&nbsp; It may even explain those of tamed wolves,
+who may have been only feral dogs, <i>i.e.</i> dogs run
+wild.&nbsp; But it will not explain those in which (in Ireland as
+well as in Gaul) the stag appears as obeying the hermit&rsquo;s
+commands.&nbsp; The twelve huge stags who come out of the forest
+to draw the ploughs for St. Leonor and his monks, or those who
+drew to his grave the corpse of the Irish hermit Kellac, or those
+who came out of the forest to supply the place of St.
+Colodoc&rsquo;s cattle, which the seigneur had carried off in
+revenge for his having given sanctuary to a hunted deer, must
+have been wild from the beginning; and many another tale must
+remain without any explanation whatsoever&mdash;save the simplest
+of all.&nbsp; Neither can any such theory apply to the marvels
+vouched for by St. Athanasius, St. Jerome, and other
+contemporaries, which &ldquo;show us (to quote M. de
+Montalembert) the most ferocious animals at the feet of such men
+as Antony, Pachomius, Macarius, and Hilarion, and those who
+copied them.&nbsp; At every page one sees wild asses, crocodiles,
+hippopotami, hy&aelig;nas, and, above all, lions, transformed
+into respectful companions and docile servants of these prodigies
+of sanctity; and one concludes thence, not that these beasts had
+reasonable souls, but that God knew how to glorify those who
+devoted themselves to his glory, and thus show how all Nature
+obeyed man before he was excluded from Paradise by his
+disobedience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary
+biographers assign for these wonders.&nbsp; The hermits were
+believed to have returned, by celibacy and penitence, to
+&ldquo;the life of angels;&rdquo; to that state of perfect
+innocence which was attributed to our first parents in Eden: and
+therefore of them our Lord&rsquo;s words were true: &ldquo;He
+that believeth in me, greater things than these (which I do)
+shall he do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But those who are of a different opinion will seek for
+different causes.&nbsp; They will, the more they know of these
+stories, admire often their gracefulness, often their pathos,
+often their deep moral significance; they will feel the general
+truth of M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s words: &ldquo;There is not
+one of them which does not honour and profit human nature, and
+which does not express a victory of weakness over force, and of
+good over evil.&rdquo;&nbsp; But if they look on physical facts
+as sacred things, as the voice of God revealed in the phenomena
+of matter, their first question will be, &ldquo;Are they
+true?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Some of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus,
+riding and then slaying the crocodile.&nbsp; It did not
+happen.&nbsp; Abbot Ammon <a name="citation212a"></a><a
+href="#footnote212a" class="citation">[212a]</a> did not make two
+dragons guard his cell against robbers.&nbsp; St. Gerasimus <a
+name="citation212b"></a><a href="#footnote212b"
+class="citation">[212b]</a> did not set the lion, out of whose
+foot he had taken a thorn, to guard his ass; and when the ass was
+stolen by an Arabian camel-driver, he did not (fancying that the
+lion had eaten the ass) make him carry water in the ass&rsquo;s
+stead.&nbsp; Neither did the lion, when next he met the thief and
+the ass, bring them up, in his own justification, <a
+name="citation212c"></a><a href="#footnote212c"
+class="citation">[212c]</a> to St. Gerasimus.&nbsp; St. Costinian
+did not put a pack-saddle on a bear, and make him carry a great
+stone.&nbsp; A lioness did not bring her five blind whelps to a
+hermit, that he might give them sight. <a
+name="citation212d"></a><a href="#footnote212d"
+class="citation">[212d]</a>&nbsp; And, though Sulpicius Severus
+says that he saw it with his own eyes, <a
+name="citation212e"></a><a href="#footnote212e"
+class="citation">[212e]</a> it is hard to believe the latter part
+of the graceful story which he tells&mdash;of an old hermit whom
+he found dwelling alone twelve miles from the Nile, by a well of
+vast depth.&nbsp; One ox he had, whose whole work was to raise
+the water by a wheel.&nbsp; Around him was a garden of herbs,
+kept rich and green amid the burning sand, where neither seed nor
+root could live.&nbsp; The old man and the ox fed together on the
+produce of their common toil; but two miles off there was a
+single palm-tree, to which, after supper, the hermit takes his
+guests.&nbsp; Beneath the palm they find a lioness; but instead
+of attacking them, she moves &ldquo;modestly&rdquo; away at the
+old man&rsquo;s command, and sits down to wait for her share of
+dates.&nbsp; She feeds out of his hand, like a household animal,
+and goes her way, leaving her guests trembling, &ldquo;and
+confessing how great was the virtue of the hermit&rsquo;s faith,
+and how great their own infirmity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This last story, which one would gladly believe, were it
+possible, I have inserted as one of those which hang on the verge
+of credibility.&nbsp; In the very next page, Sulpicius Severus
+tells a story quite credible, of a she-wolf, which he saw with
+his own eyes as tame as any dog.&nbsp; There can be no more
+reason to doubt that fact than to ascribe it to a miracle.&nbsp;
+We may even believe that the wolf, having gnawed to pieces the
+palm basket which the good old man was weaving, went off, knowing
+that she had done wrong, and after a week came back, begged
+pardon like a rational soul, and was caressed, and given a double
+share of bread.&nbsp; Many of these stories which tell of the
+taming of wild beasts may be true, and yet contain no
+miracle.&nbsp; They are very few in number, after all, in
+proportion to the number of monks; they are to be counted at most
+by tens, while the monks are counted by tens of thousands.&nbsp;
+And among many great companies of monks, there may have been one
+individual, as there is, for instance, in many a country parish a
+bee-taker or a horse-tamer, of quiet temper and strong nerve, and
+quick and sympathetic intellect, whose power over animals is so
+extraordinary, as to be attributed by the superstitious and
+uneducated to some hereditary secret, or some fairy gift.&nbsp;
+Very powerful to attract wild animals must have been the good
+hermits&rsquo; habit of sitting motionless for hours, till (as
+with St. Guthlac) the swallows sat and sang upon his knee; and of
+moving slowly and gently at his work, till (as with St. Karilef,
+while he pruned his vines) the robin came and built in his hood
+as it hung upon a tree: very powerful his freedom from anger,
+and, yet more important, from fear, which always calls out rage
+in wild beasts, while a calm and bold front awes them: and most
+powerful of all, the kindliness of heart, the love of
+companionship, which brought the wild bison to feed by St.
+Karilef&rsquo;s side as he prayed upon the lawn; and the hind to
+nourish St. Giles with her milk in the jungles of the Bouches du
+Rh&ocirc;ne.&nbsp; There was no miracle; save the moral miracle
+that, in ages of cruelty and slaughter, these men had learned
+(surely by the inspiration of God) how&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;He prayeth well who loveth well<br />
+Both man and bird and beast;<br />
+He prayeth best who loveth best<br />
+All things, both great and small;<br />
+For the dear God who loveth us,<br />
+He made and loveth all.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>After all, let these old Lives of the Fathers tell their own
+tale.&nbsp; By their own merits let them stand or fall; and stand
+they will in one sense: for whatsoever else they are not, this
+they are&mdash;the histories of good men.&nbsp; Their physical
+science and their d&aelig;monology may have been on a par with
+those of the world around them: but they possessed what the world
+did not possess, faith in the utterly good and self-sacrificing
+God, and an ideal of virtue and purity such as had never been
+seen since the first Whitsuntide.&nbsp; And they set themselves
+to realize that ideal with a simplicity, an energy, an endurance,
+which were altogether heroic.&nbsp; How far they were right in
+&ldquo;giving up the world&rdquo; depends entirely on what the
+world was then like, and whether there was any hope of reforming
+it.&nbsp; It was their opinion that there was no such hope; and
+those who know best the facts which surrounded them, its utter
+frivolity, its utter viciousness, the deadness which had fallen
+on art, science, philosophy, human life, whether family, social,
+or political; the prevalence of slavery, in forms altogether
+hideous and unmentionable; the insecurity of life and property,
+whether from military and fiscal tyranny, or from perpetual
+inroads of the so-called &ldquo;Barbarians:&rdquo; those, I say,
+who know these facts best will be most inclined to believe that
+the old hermits were wise in their generation; that the world was
+past salvation; that it was not a wise or humane thing to marry
+and bring children into the world; that in such a state of
+society, an honest and virtuous man could not exist, and that
+those who wished to remain honest and virtuous must flee into the
+desert, and be alone with God and their fellows.</p>
+<p>The question which had to be settled then and there, at that
+particular crisis of the human race, was not&mdash;Are certain
+wonders true or false? but&mdash;Is man a mere mortal animal, or
+an immortal soul?&nbsp; Is his flesh meant to serve his spirit,
+or his spirit his flesh?&nbsp; Is pleasure, or virtue, the end
+and aim of his existence?</p>
+<p>The hermits set themselves to answer that question, not by
+arguing or writing about it, but by the only way in which any
+question can be settled&mdash;by experiment.&nbsp; They resolved
+to try whether their immortal souls could not grow better and
+better, while their mortal bodies were utterly neglected; to make
+their flesh serve their spirit; to make virtue their only end and
+aim; and utterly to relinquish the very notion of pleasure.&nbsp;
+To do this one thing, and nothing else, they devoted their lives;
+and they succeeded.&nbsp; From their time it has been a received
+opinion, not merely among a few philosophers or a few Pharisees,
+but among the lowest, the poorest, the most ignorant, who have
+known aught of Christianity, that man is an immortal soul; that
+the spirit, and not the flesh, ought to be master and guide; that
+virtue is the highest good; and that purity is a virtue, impurity
+a sin.&nbsp; These men were, it has been well said, the very
+fathers of purity.&nbsp; And if, in that and in other matters,
+they pushed their purpose to an extreme&mdash;if, by devoting
+themselves utterly to it alone, they suffered, not merely in
+wideness of mind or in power of judging evidence, but even in
+brain, till they became some of them at times insane from
+over-wrought nerves&mdash;it is not for us to blame the soldier
+for the wounds which have crippled him, or the physician for the
+disease which he has caught himself while trying to heal
+others.&nbsp; Let us not speak ill of the bridge which carries us
+over, nor mock at those who did the work for us as seemed to them
+best, and perhaps in the only way in which it could be done in
+those evil days.&nbsp; As a matter of fact, through these
+men&rsquo;s teaching and example we have learnt what morality,
+purity, and Christianity we possess; and if any answer that we
+have learnt them from the Scriptures, who but these men preserved
+the Scriptures to us?&nbsp; Who taught us to look on them as
+sacred and inspired?&nbsp; Who taught us to apply them to our own
+daily lives, and find comfort and teaching in every age, in words
+written ages ago by another race in a foreign land?&nbsp; The
+Scriptures were the book, generally the only book, which they
+read and meditated, not merely from morn till night, but, as far
+as fainting nature would allow, from night to morn again: and
+their method of interpreting them (as far as I can discover)
+differed in nothing from that common to all Christians now, save
+that they interpreted literally certain precepts of our Lord and
+of St. Paul which we consider to have applied only to the
+&ldquo;temporary necessity&rdquo; of a decayed, dying, and
+hopeless age such as that in which they lived.&nbsp; And
+therefore, because they knew the Scripture well, and learned in
+it lessons of true virtue and true philosophy, though unable to
+save civilization in the East, they were able at least to save it
+in the West.&nbsp; The European hermits, and the monastic
+communities which they originated, were indeed a seed of life,
+not merely to the conquered Roman population of Gaul or Spain or
+Britain, but to the heathen and Arian barbarians who conquered
+them.&nbsp; Among those fierce and armed savages, the unarmed
+hermits stood, strong only by justice, purity, and faith in God,
+defying the oppressor, succouring the oppressed, and awing and
+softening the new aristocracy of the middle age, which was
+founded on mere brute force and pride of race; because the monk
+took his stand upon mere humanity; because he told the wild
+conqueror, Goth or Sueve, Frank or Burgund, Saxon or Norseman,
+that all men were equal in the sight of God; because he told them
+(to quote Athanasius&rsquo;s own words concerning Antony) that
+&ldquo;virtue is not beyond human nature;&rdquo; that the highest
+moral excellence was possible to the most low-born and unlettered
+peasant whom they trampled under their horses&rsquo; hoofs, if he
+were only renewed and sanctified by the Spirit of God.&nbsp; They
+accepted the lowest and commonest facts of that peasant&rsquo;s
+wretched life; they outdid him in helplessness, loneliness,
+hunger, dirt, and slavery; and then said, &ldquo;Among all these
+I can yet be a man of God, wise, virtuous, pure, free, and noble
+in the sight of God, though not in the sight of C&aelig;sars,
+counts, and knights.&rdquo;&nbsp; They went on, it is true, to
+glorify the means above the end; to consecrate childlessness,
+self-torture, dirt, ignorance, as if they were things pleasing to
+God and holy in themselves.&nbsp; But in spite of those errors
+they wrought throughout Europe a work which, as far as we can
+judge, could have been done in no other way; done only by men who
+gave up all that makes life worth having for the sake of being
+good themselves and making others good.</p>
+<h2><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 219</span>THE
+HERMITS OF EUROPE</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Most</span> readers will recollect what an
+important part in the old ballads and romances is played by the
+hermit.</p>
+<p>He stands in strongest contrast to the knight.&nbsp; He fills
+up, as it were, by his gentleness and self-sacrifice, what is
+wanting in the manhood of the knight, the slave too often of his
+own fierceness and self-assertion.&nbsp; The hermit rebukes him
+when he sins, heals him when he is wounded, stays his hand in
+some mad murderous duel, such as was too common in days when any
+two armed horsemen meeting on road or lawn ran blindly at each
+other in the mere lust of fighting, as boars or stags might
+run.&nbsp; Sometimes he interferes to protect the oppressed serf;
+sometimes to rescue the hunted deer which has taken sanctuary at
+his feet.&nbsp; Sometimes, again, his influence is that of
+intellectual superiority; of worldly experience; of the travelled
+man who has seen many lands and many nations.&nbsp; Sometimes,
+again, that of sympathy; for he has been a knight himself, and
+fought and sinned, and drank of the cup of vanity and vexation of
+spirit, like the fierce warrior who kneels at his feet.</p>
+<p>All who have read (and all ought to have read) Spenser&rsquo;s
+Fairy Queen, must recollect his charming description of the
+hermit with whom Prince Arthur leaves Serena and the squire after
+they have been wounded by &ldquo;the blatant beast&rdquo; of
+Slander; when&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Toward
+night they came unto a plain<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; By which a little hermitage there lay<br />
+Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;And nigh thereto a little chapel
+stood,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which being all with ivy overspread<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Decked all the roof, and shadowing the rood,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Seemed like a grove fair branch&egrave;d
+overhead;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Therein the hermit which his here led<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In straight observance of religious vow,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Was wont his hours and holy things to bed;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And therein he likewise was praying now,<br />
+When as these knights arrived, they wist not where nor how.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;They stayed not there, but
+straightway in did pass:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Who when the hermit present saw in place,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; From his devotions straight he troubled was;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which breaking off, he toward them did pace<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With staid steps and grave beseeming grace:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For well it seemed that whilom he had been<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Some goodly person, and of gentle race,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; That could his good to all, and well did ween<br />
+How each to entertain with courtesy beseen.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;He thence them led into his
+hermitage,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Letting their steeds to graze upon the green:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Small was his house, and like a little cage,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For his own term, yet inly neat and clean,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Decked with green boughs, and flowers gay beseen<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Therein he them full fair did entertain,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Not with such forg&egrave;d shews, as fitter been<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; For courting fools that courtesies would feign,<br
+/>
+But with entire affection and appearance plain.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;How be that careful hermit did his best<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; With many kinds of medicines meet to tame<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; The poisonous humour that did most infest<br />
+Their reakling wounds, and every day them duly dressed.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;For he right well in leech&rsquo;s
+craft was seen;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And through the long experience of his days,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which had in many fortunes toss&egrave;d been,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And passed through many perilous assays:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He knew the divers want of mortal ways,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And in the minds of men had great insight;<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Which with sage counsel, when they went astray,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He could inform and them reduce aright;<br />
+And all the passions heal which wound the weaker sprite.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;For whilome he had been a doughty
+knight,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; As any one that liv&egrave;d in his days,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And prov&egrave;d oft in many a perilous fight,<br
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp; In which he grace and glory won always,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And in all battles bore away the bays:<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; But being now attached with timely age,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; And weary of this world&rsquo;s unquiet ways,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; He took himself unto this hermitage,<br />
+In which he lived alone like careless bird in cage.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>This picture is not poetry alone: it is history.&nbsp; Such
+men actually lived, and such work they actually did, from the
+southernmost point of Italy to the northernmost point of
+Scotland, during centuries in which there was no one else to do
+the work.&nbsp; The regular clergy could not have done it.&nbsp;
+Bishops and priests were entangled in the affairs of this world,
+striving to be statesmen, striving to be landowners, striving to
+pass Church lands on from father to son, and to establish
+themselves as an hereditary caste of priests.&nbsp; The chaplain
+or house-priest who was to be found in every nobleman&rsquo;s,
+almost every knight&rsquo;s castle, was apt to become a mere
+upper servant, who said mass every morning in return for the good
+cheer which he got every evening, and fetched and carried at the
+bidding of his master and mistress.&nbsp; But the hermit who
+dwelt alone in the forest glen, occupied, like an old Hebrew
+prophet, a superior and an independent position.&nbsp; He needed
+nought from any man save the scrap of land which the lord was
+only too glad to allow him in return for his counsels and his
+prayers.&nbsp; And to him, as to a mysterious and supernatural
+personage, the lord went privately for advice in his quarrels
+with the neighbouring barons, or with his own kin.&nbsp; To him
+the lady took her children when they were sick, to be healed, as
+she fancied, by his prayers and blessings; or poured into his
+ears a hundred secret sorrows and anxieties which she dare not
+tell to her fierce lord, who hunted and fought the livelong day,
+and drank too much liquor every night.</p>
+<p>This class of men sprang up rapidly, by natural causes, and
+yet by a Divine necessity, as soon as the Western Empire was
+conquered by the German tribes; and those two young officers whom
+we saw turning monks at Tr&ecirc;ves, in the time of St.
+Augustine, may, if they lived to be old men, have given sage
+counsel again and again to fierce German knights and kinglets,
+who had dispossessed the rich and effeminate landowners of their
+estates, and sold them, their wives, and children, in gangs by
+the side of their own slaves.&nbsp; Only the Roman who had turned
+monk would probably escape that fearful ruin; and he would remain
+behind, while the rest of his race was enslaved or swept away, as
+a seed of Christianity and of civilization, destined to grow and
+spread, and bring the wild conquerors in due time into the
+kingdom of God.</p>
+<p>For the first century or two after the invasion of the
+barbarians, the names of the hermits and saints are almost
+exclusively Latin.&nbsp; Their biographies represent them in
+almost every case as born of noble Roman parents.&nbsp; As time
+goes on, German names appear, and at last entirely supersede the
+Latin ones; showing that the conquering race had learned from the
+conquered to become hermits and monks like them.</p>
+<h2><a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 224</span>ST.
+SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> all these saintly civilizers,
+St. Severinus of Vienna is perhaps the most interesting, and his
+story the most historically instructive. <a
+name="citation224"></a><a href="#footnote224"
+class="citation">[224]</a></p>
+<p>A common time, the middle of the fifth century, the province
+of Noricum (Austria, as we should now call it) was the very
+highway of invading barbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom
+in which Huns, Alemanni, Rugi, and a dozen wild tribes more,
+wrestled up and down and round the starving and beleaguered towns
+of what had once been a happy and fertile province, each tribe
+striving to trample the other under foot, and to march southward
+over their corpses to plunder what was still left of the already
+plundered wealth of Italy and Rome.&nbsp; The difference of race,
+in tongue, and in manners, between the conquered and their
+conquerors, was made more painful by difference in creed.&nbsp;
+The conquering Germans and Huns were either Arians or
+heathens.&nbsp; The conquered race (though probably of very mixed
+blood), who called themselves Romans, because they spoke Latin
+and lived under the Roman law, were orthodox Catholics; and the
+miseries of religious persecution were too often added to the
+usual miseries of invasion.</p>
+<p>It was about the year 455&ndash;60.&nbsp; Attila, the great
+King of the Huns, who called himself&mdash;and who
+was&mdash;&ldquo;the Scourge of God,&rdquo; was just dead.&nbsp;
+His empire had broken up.&nbsp; The whole centre of Europe was in
+a state of anarchy and war; and the hapless Romans along the
+Danube were in the last extremity of terror, not knowing by what
+fresh invader their crops would be swept off up to the very gates
+of the walled towers which were their only defence: when there
+appeared among them, coming out of the East, a man of God.</p>
+<p>Who he was, he would not tell.&nbsp; His speech showed him to
+be an African Roman&mdash;a fellow-countryman of St.
+Augustine&mdash;probably from the neighbourhood of
+Carthage.&nbsp; He had certainly at one time gone to some desert
+in the East, zealous to learn &ldquo;the more perfect
+life.&rdquo;&nbsp; Severinus, he said, was his name; a name which
+indicated high rank, as did the manners and the scholarship of
+him who bore it.&nbsp; But more than his name he would not
+tell.&nbsp; &ldquo;If you take me for a runaway slave,&rdquo; he
+said, smiling, &ldquo;get ready money to redeem me with when my
+master demands me back.&rdquo;&nbsp; For he believed that they
+would have need of him; that God had sent him into that land that
+he might be of use to its wretched people.&nbsp; And certainly he
+could have come into the neighbourhood of Vienna at that moment
+for no other purpose than to do good, unless he came to deal in
+slaves.</p>
+<p>He settled first at a town called by his biographer Casturis;
+and, lodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the
+hermit life.&nbsp; Meanwhile the German tribes were prowling
+round the town; and Severinus, going one day into the church,
+began to warn the priests and clergy and all the people that a
+destruction was coming on them which they could only avert by
+prayer and fasting and the works of mercy.&nbsp; They laughed him
+to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman walls, which the
+invaders&mdash;wild horsemen, who had no military
+engines&mdash;were unable either to scale or batter down.&nbsp;
+Severinus left the town at once, prophesying, it was said, the
+very day and hour of its fall.&nbsp; He went on to the next town,
+which was then closely garrisoned by a barbarian force, and
+repeated his warning there: but while the people were listening
+to him, there came an old man to the gate, and told them how
+Casturis had been already sacked, as the man of God had foretold;
+and, going into the church, threw himself at the feet of St.
+Severinus, and said that he had been saved by his merits from
+being destroyed with his fellow-townsmen.</p>
+<p>Then the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and
+gave themselves up to fasting and almsgiving and prayer for three
+whole days.</p>
+<p>And on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening
+sacrifice was fulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the
+barbarians, seized with panic fear, and probably hating and
+dreading&mdash;like all those wild tribes&mdash;confinement
+between four stone walls instead of the free open life of the
+tent and the stockade, forced the Romans to open their gates to
+them, rushed out into the night, and in their madness slew each
+other.</p>
+<p>In those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and
+they, as their sole remedy, thought good to send for the man of
+God from the neighbouring town.&nbsp; He went, and preached to
+them, too, repentance and almsgiving.&nbsp; The rich, it seems,
+had hidden up their stores of corn, and left the poor to
+starve.&nbsp; At least St. Severinus discovered (by Divine
+revelation, it was supposed), that a widow named Procula had done
+as much.&nbsp; He called her out into the midst of the people,
+and asked her why she, a noble woman and free-born, had made
+herself a slave to avarice, which is idolatry.&nbsp; If she would
+not give her corn to Christ&rsquo;s poor, let her throw it into
+the Danube to feed the fish, for any gain from it she would not
+have.&nbsp; Procula was abashed, and served out her hoards
+thereupon willingly to the poor; and a little while afterwards,
+to the astonishment of all, vessels came down the Danube, laden
+with every kind of merchandise.&nbsp; They had been frozen up for
+many days near Passau, in the thick ice of the river Enns: but
+the prayers of God&rsquo;s servant (so men believed) had opened
+the ice-gates, and let them down the stream before the usual
+time.</p>
+<p>Then the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and
+carried off human beings and cattle, as many as they could
+find.&nbsp; Severinus, like some old Hebrew prophet, did not
+shrink from advising hard blows, where hard blows could
+avail.&nbsp; Mamertinus, the tribune, or officer in command, told
+him that he had so few soldiers, and those so ill-armed, that he
+dare not face the enemy.&nbsp; Severinus answered, that they
+should get weapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would
+fight for them, and they should hold their peace: only if they
+took any captives they should bring them safe to him.&nbsp; At
+the second milestone from the city they came upon the plunderers,
+who fled at once, leaving their arms behind.&nbsp; Thus was the
+prophecy of the man of God fulfilled.&nbsp; The Romans brought
+the captives back to him unharmed.&nbsp; He loosed their bonds,
+gave them food and drink, and let them go.&nbsp; But they were to
+tell their comrades that, if ever they came near that spot again,
+celestial vengeance would fall on them, for the God of the
+Christians fought from heaven in his servants&rsquo; cause.</p>
+<p>So the barbarians trembled, and went away.&nbsp; And the fear
+of St. Severinus fell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though
+they were; and on the Rugii, who held the north bank of the
+Danube in those evil days.&nbsp; St. Severinus, meanwhile, went
+out of Vienna, and built himself a cell at a place called
+&ldquo;At the Vineyards.&rdquo;&nbsp; But some benevolent
+impulse&mdash;Divine revelation, his biographer calls
+it&mdash;prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a
+hill close to Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up,
+tenanted by his disciples.&nbsp; &ldquo;There,&rdquo; says his
+biographer, &ldquo;he longed to escape the crowds of men who were
+wont to come to him, and cling closer to God in continual prayer:
+but the more he longed to dwell in solitude, the more often he
+was warned by revelations not to deny his presence to the
+afflicted people.&rdquo;&nbsp; He fasted continually; he went
+barefoot even in the midst of winter, which was so severe, the
+story continues, in those days around Vienna, that wagons crossed
+the Danube on the solid ice: and yet, instead of being puffed-up
+by his own virtues, he set an example of humility to all, and
+bade them with tears to pray for him, that the Saviour&rsquo;s
+gifts to him might not heap condemnation on his head.</p>
+<p>Over the wild Rugii St. Severinus seems to have acquired
+unbounded influence.&nbsp; Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour
+out his sorrows to him, and tell him how the princes of the Goths
+would surely slay him; for when he had asked leave of him to pass
+on into Italy, he would not let him go.&nbsp; But St. Severinus
+prophesied to him that the Goths would do him no harm.&nbsp; Only
+one warning he must take: &ldquo;Let it not grieve him to ask
+peace even for the least of men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king
+and the cultivated saint was carried on by his son Feva: but his
+&ldquo;deadly and noxious wife&rdquo; Gisa, who appears to have
+been a fierce Arian, always, says his biographer, kept him back
+from clemency.&nbsp; One story of Gisa&rsquo;s misdeeds is so
+characteristic both of the manners of the time and of the style
+in which the original biography is written, that I shall take
+leave to insert it at length.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the
+aforementioned Flaccitheus, following his father&rsquo;s
+devotion, began, at the commencement of his reign, often to visit
+the holy man.&nbsp; His deadly and noxious wife, named Gisa,
+always kept him back from the remedies of clemency.&nbsp; For
+she, among the other plague-spots of her iniquity, even tried to
+have certain Catholics re-baptized: but when her husband did not
+consent, on account of his reverence for St. Severinus, she gave
+up immediately her sacrilegious intention, burdening the Romans,
+nevertheless, with hard conditions, and commanding some of them
+to be exiled to the Danube.&nbsp; For when one day, she, having
+come to the village next to Vienna, had ordered some of them to
+be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the most menial offices
+of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged that they
+might be let go.&nbsp; But she, blazing up in a flame of fury,
+ordered the harshest of answers to be returned.&nbsp; &lsquo;I
+pray thee,&rsquo; she said, &lsquo;servant of God, hiding there
+within thy cell, allow us to settle what we choose about our own
+slaves.&rsquo;&nbsp; But the man of God hearing this, &lsquo;I
+trust,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;in my Lord Jesus Christ, that she
+will be forced by necessity to fulfil that which in her wicked
+will she has despised.&rsquo;&nbsp; And forthwith a swift rebuke
+followed, and brought low the soul of the arrogant woman.&nbsp;
+For she had confined in close custody certain barbarian
+goldsmiths, that they might make regal ornaments.&nbsp; To them
+the son of the aforesaid king, Frederic by name, still a little
+boy, had gone in, in childish levity, on the very day on which
+the queen had despised the servant of God.&nbsp; The goldsmiths
+put a sword to the child&rsquo;s breast, saying, that if any one
+attempted to enter without giving them an oath that they should
+be protected, he should die; and that they would slay the
+king&rsquo;s child first, and themselves afterwards, seeing that
+they had no hope of life left, being worn out with long
+prison.&nbsp; When she heard that, the cruel and impious queen,
+rending her garments for grief, cried out, &lsquo;O servant of
+God, Severinus, are the injuries which I did thee thus
+avenged?&nbsp; Hast thou obtained by the earnest prayer thou hast
+poured out this punishment for my contempt, that thou shouldst
+avenge it on my own flesh and blood?&rsquo;&nbsp; Then, running
+up and down with manifold contrition and miserable lamentation,
+she confessed that for the act of contempt which she had
+committed against the servant of God she was struck by the
+vengeance of the present blow; and forthwith she sent knights to
+ask for forgiveness, and sent across the river the Romans his
+prayers for whom she had despised.&nbsp; The goldsmiths, having
+received immediately a promise of safety, and giving up the
+child, were in like manner let go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave
+boundless thanks to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the
+prayers of suppliants for this end, that as faith, hope, and
+charity grow, while lesser things are sought, He may concede
+greater things.&nbsp; Lastly, this did the mercy of the
+Omnipotent Saviour work, that while it brought to slavery a woman
+free, but cruel overmuch, she was forced to restore to liberty
+those who were enslaved.&nbsp; This having been marvellously
+gained, the queen hastened with her husband to the servant of
+God, and showed him her son, who, she confessed, had been freed
+from the verge of death by his prayers, and promised that she
+would never go against his commands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To this period of Severinus&rsquo;s life belongs the once
+famous story of his interview with Odoacer, the first barbarian
+king of Italy, and brother of the great Onulph or Wolf, who was
+the founder of the family of the Guelphs, Counts of Altorf, and
+the direct ancestors of Victoria, Queen of England.&nbsp; Their
+father was &AElig;decon, secretary at one time of Attila, and
+chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who, though German, had
+clung faithfully to Attila&rsquo;s sons, and came to ruin at the
+great battle of Netad, when the empire of the Huns broke up once
+and for ever.&nbsp; Then Odoacer and his brother started over the
+Alps to seek their fortunes in Italy, and take service, after the
+fashion of young German adventurers, with the Romans; and they
+came to St. Severinus&rsquo;s cell, and went in, heathens as they
+probably were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and Odoacer had
+to stoop and to stand stooping, so huge he was.&nbsp; The saint
+saw that he was no common lad, and said, &ldquo;Go to Italy,
+clothed though thou be in ragged sheepskins: thou shalt soon give
+greater gifts to thy friends.&rdquo;&nbsp; So Odoacer went on
+into Italy, deposed the last of the C&aelig;sars, a paltry boy,
+Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his own
+astonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king of
+Italy; and, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered
+the prophecy of Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon
+he chose to ask.&nbsp; But all that the saint asked was, that he
+should forgive some Romans whom he had banished.&nbsp; St.
+Severinus meanwhile foresaw that Odoacer&rsquo;s kingdom would
+not last, as he seems to have foreseen many things, by no
+miraculous revelation, but simply as a far-sighted man of the
+world.&nbsp; For when certain German knights were boasting before
+him of the power and glory of Odoacer, he said that it would last
+some thirteen, or at most fourteen years; and the prophecy (so
+all men said in those days) came exactly true.</p>
+<p>There is no need to follow the details of St.
+Severinus&rsquo;s labours through some five-and-twenty years of
+perpetual self-sacrifice&mdash;and, as far as this world was
+concerned, perpetual disaster.&nbsp; Eugippius&rsquo;s chapters
+are little save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the other,
+from Passau to Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the war
+seemed to have concentrated themselves under St.
+Severinus&rsquo;s guardianship in the latter city.&nbsp; We find,
+too, tales of famine, of locust-swarms, of little victories over
+the barbarians, which do not arrest wholesale defeat: but we find
+through all St. Severinus labouring like a true man of God,
+conciliating the invading chiefs, redeeming captives, procuring
+for the cities which were still standing supplies of clothes for
+the fugitives, persuading the husbandmen, seemingly through large
+districts, to give even in time of dearth a tithe of their
+produce to the poor;&mdash;a tale of noble work which one regrets
+to see defaced by silly little prodigies, more important
+seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius than the great events
+which were passing round him.&nbsp; But this is a fault too
+common with monk chroniclers.&nbsp; The only historians of the
+early middle age, they have left us a miserably imperfect record
+of it, because they were looking always rather for the
+preternatural than for the natural.&nbsp; Many of the
+saints&rsquo; lives, as they have come down to us, are mere
+catalogues of wonders which never happened, from among which the
+antiquary must pick, out of passing hints and obscure allusions,
+the really important facts of the time,&mdash;changes political
+and social, geography, physical history, the manners, speech, and
+look of nations now extinct, and even the characters and passions
+of the actors in the story.&nbsp; How much can be found among
+such a list of wonders, by an antiquary who has not merely
+learning but intellectual insight, is proved by the admirable
+notes which Dr. Reeves has appended to Adamnan&rsquo;s life of
+St. Columba: but one feels, while studying his work, that, had
+Adamnan thought more of facts and less of prodigies, he might
+have saved Dr. Reeves the greater part of his labour, and
+preserved to us a mass of knowledge now lost for ever.</p>
+<p>And so with Eugippius&rsquo;s life of St. Severinus.&nbsp; The
+reader finds how the man who had secretly celebrated a heathen
+sacrifice was discovered by St. Severinus, because, while the
+tapers of the rest of the congregation were lighted miraculously
+from heaven, his taper alone would not light; and passes on
+impatiently, with regret that the biographer omits to mention
+what the heathen sacrifice was like.&nbsp; He reads how the
+Danube dared not rise above the mark of the cross which St.
+Severinus had cut upon the posts of a timber chapel; how a poor
+man, going out to drive the locusts off his little patch of corn
+instead of staying in the church all day to pray, found the next
+morning that his crop alone had been eaten, while all the fields
+around remained untouched.&nbsp; Even the well-known story, which
+has a certain awfulness about it, how St. Severinus watched all
+night by the bier of the dead priest Silvinus, and ere the
+morning dawned bade him in the name of God speak to his brethren;
+and how the dead man opened his eyes, and Severinus asked him
+whether he wished to return to life, and he answered
+complainingly, &ldquo;Keep me no longer here; nor cheat me of
+that perpetual rest which I had already found,&rdquo; and so,
+closing his eyes once more, was still for ever:&mdash;even such a
+story as this, were it true, would be of little value in
+comparison with the wisdom, faith, charity, sympathy, industry,
+utter self-sacrifice, which formed the true greatness of such a
+man as Severinus.</p>
+<p>At last the noble life wore itself out.&nbsp; For two years
+Severinus had foretold that his end was near; and foretold, too,
+that the people for whom he had spent himself should go forth in
+safety, as Israel out of Egypt, and find a refuge in some other
+Roman province, leaving behind them so utter a solitude, that the
+barbarians, in their search for the hidden treasures of the
+civilization which they had exterminated, should dig up the very
+graves of the dead.&nbsp; Only, when the Lord willed that people
+to deliver them, they must carry away his bones with them, as the
+children of Israel carried the bones of Joseph.</p>
+<p>Then Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king, and Gisa, his
+cruel wife; and when he had warned them how they must render an
+account to God for the people committed to their charge, he
+stretched his hand out to the bosom of the king.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Gisa,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;dost thou love most the soul
+within that breast, or gold and silver?&rdquo;&nbsp; She answered
+that she loved her husband above all.&nbsp; &ldquo;Cease
+then,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to oppress the innocent: lest their
+affliction be the ruin of your power.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Severinus&rsquo; presage was strangely fulfilled.&nbsp; Feva
+had handed over the city of Vienna to his brother
+Frederic,&mdash;&ldquo;poor and impious,&rdquo; says
+Eugippius.&nbsp; Severinus, who knew him well, sent for him, and
+warned him that he himself was going to the Lord; and that if,
+after his death, Frederic dared touch aught of the substance of
+the poor and the captive, the wrath of God would fall on
+him.&nbsp; In vain the barbarian pretended indignant innocence;
+Severinus sent him away with fresh warnings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then on the nones of January he was smitten slightly
+with a pain in the side.&nbsp; And when that had continued for
+three days, at midnight he bade the brethren come to
+him.&rdquo;&nbsp; He renewed his talk about the coming
+emigration, and entreated again that his bones might not be left
+behind; and having bidden all in turn come near and kiss him, and
+having received the sacrament of communion, he forbade them to
+weep for him, and commanded them to sing a psalm.&nbsp; They
+hesitated, weeping.&nbsp; He himself gave out the psalm,
+&ldquo;Praise the Lord in his saints, and let all that hath
+breath praise the Lord;&rdquo; and so went to rest in the
+Lord.</p>
+<p>No sooner was he dead than Frederic seized on the garments
+kept in the monastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded
+his men to carry off the vessels of the altar.&nbsp; Then
+followed a scene characteristic of the time.&nbsp; The steward
+sent to do the deed shrank from the crime of sacrilege.&nbsp; A
+knight, Anicianus by name, went in his stead, and took the
+vessels of the altar.&nbsp; But his conscience was too strong for
+him.&nbsp; Trembling and delirium fell on him, and he fled away
+to a lonely island, and became a hermit there.&nbsp; Frederic,
+impenitent, swept away all in the monastery, leaving nought but
+the bare walls, &ldquo;which he could not carry over the
+Danube.&rdquo;&nbsp; But on him, too, vengeance fell.&nbsp;
+Within a month he was slain by his own nephew.&nbsp; Then Odoacer
+attacked the Rugii, and carried off Feva and Gisa captive to
+Rome.&nbsp; And then the long-promised emigration came.&nbsp;
+Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to establish
+a half-Roman kingdom in Italy), or for love of St. Severinus
+himself, sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the
+miserable remnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed
+among the wasted and unpeopled farms of Italy.&nbsp; And with
+them went forth the corpse of St. Severinus, undecayed, though he
+had been six years dead, and giving forth exceeding fragrance,
+though (says Eugippius) no embalmer&rsquo;s hand had touched
+it.&nbsp; In a coffin, which had been long prepared for it, it
+was laid on a wagon, and went over the Alps into Italy, working
+(according to Eugippius) the usual miracles on the way, till it
+found a resting-place near Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus
+at Misenum, to which Odoacer had sent the last Emperor of Rome to
+dream his ignoble life away in helpless luxury.</p>
+<p>So ends this tragic story.&nbsp; Of its substantial truth
+there can be no doubt.&nbsp; The miracles recorded in it are
+fewer and less strange than those of the average legends&mdash;as
+is usually the case when an eye-witness writes.&nbsp; And that
+Eugippius was an eye-witness of much which he tells, no one
+accustomed to judge of the authenticity of documents can doubt,
+if he studies the tale as it stands in Pez. <a
+name="citation238"></a><a href="#footnote238"
+class="citation">[238]</a>&nbsp; As he studies, too, he will
+perhaps wish with me that some great dramatist may hereafter take
+Eugippius&rsquo;s quaint and rough legend, and shape it into
+immortal verse.&nbsp; For tragic, in the very nighest sense, the
+story is throughout.&nbsp; M. Ozanam has well said of that
+death-bed scene between the saint and the barbarian king and
+queen&mdash;&ldquo;The history of invasions has many a pathetic
+scene: but I know none more instructive than the dying agony of
+that old Roman expiring between two barbarians, and less touched
+with the ruin of the empire than with the peril of their
+souls.&rdquo;&nbsp; But even more instructive, and more tragic
+also, is the strange coincidence that the wonder-working corpse
+of the starved and barefooted hermit should rest beside the last
+Emperor of Rome.&nbsp; It is the symbol of a new era.&nbsp; The
+kings of this world have been judged and cast out.&nbsp; The
+empire of the flesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit to
+conquer thenceforth for evermore.</p>
+<p>But if St. Severinus&rsquo;s labours in Austria were in vain,
+there were other hermits, in Gaul and elsewhere, whose work
+endured and prospered, and developed to a size of which they had
+never dreamed.&nbsp; The stories of these good men may be read at
+length in the Bollandists and Surius: in a more accessible and
+more graceful form in M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s charming
+pages.&nbsp; I can only sketch, in a few words, the history of a
+few of the more famous.&nbsp; Pushing continually northward and
+westward from the shores of the Mediterranean, fresh hermits
+settled in the mountains and forests, collected disciples round
+them, and founded monasteries, which, during the sanguinary and
+savage era of the Merovingian kings, were the only retreats for
+learning, piety, and civilization.&nbsp; St. Martin (the young
+soldier who may be seen in old pictures cutting his cloak in two
+with a sword, to share it with a beggar) left, after twenty
+campaigns, the army into which he had been enrolled against his
+will, a conscript of fifteen years old, to become a hermit, monk,
+and missionary.&nbsp; In the desert isle of Gallinaria, near
+Genoa, he lived on roots, to train himself for the monastic life;
+and then went north-west, to Poitiers, to found Ligug&eacute;
+(said to be the most ancient monastery in France), to become
+Bishop of Tours, and to overthrow throughout his diocese, often
+at the risk of his life, the sacred oaks and Druid stones of the
+Gauls, and the temples and idols of the Romans.&nbsp; But
+he&mdash;like many more&mdash;longed for the peace of the
+hermit&rsquo;s cell; and near Tours, between the river Loire and
+lofty cliffs, he hid himself in a hut of branches, while his
+eighty disciples dwelt in caves of the rocks above, clothed only
+in skins of camels.&nbsp; He died in <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 397, at the age of eighty-one,
+leaving behind him, not merely that famous monastery of
+Marmontier (Martini Monasterium), which endured till the
+Revolution of 1793, but, what is infinitely more to his glory,
+his solemn and indignant protest against the first persecution by
+the Catholic Church&mdash;the torture and execution of those
+unhappy Priscillianist fanatics, whom the Spanish Bishops (the
+spiritual forefathers of the Inquisition) had condemned in the
+name of the God of love.&nbsp; Martin wept over the fate of the
+Priscillianists.&nbsp; Happily he was no prophet, or his head
+would have become (like Jeremiah&rsquo;s) a fount of tears, could
+he have foreseen that the isolated atrocity of those Spanish
+Bishops would have become the example and the rule, legalized and
+formulized and commanded by Pope after Pope, for every country in
+Christendom.</p>
+<p>Sulpicius Severus, again (whose Lives of the Desert Fathers I
+have already quoted), carried the example of these fathers into
+his own estates in Aquitaine.&nbsp; Selling his lands, he dwelt
+among his now manumitted slaves, sleeping on straw, and feeding
+on the coarsest bread and herbs; till the hapless neophytes found
+that life was not so easily sustained in France as in Egypt; and
+complained to him that it was in vain to try &ldquo;to make them
+live like angels, when they were only Gauls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Another centre of piety and civilization was the rocky isle of
+Lerins, off the port of Toulon.&nbsp; Covered with the ruins of
+an ancient Roman city, and swarming with serpents, it was
+colonized again, in <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 410, by a
+young man of rank named Honoratus, who gathered round him a crowd
+of disciples, converted the desert isle into a garden of flowers
+and herbs, and made the sea-girt sanctuary of Lerins one of the
+most important spots of the then world.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The West,&rdquo; says M. de Montalembert, &ldquo;had
+thenceforth nothing to envy the East; and soon that retreat,
+destined by its founder to renew on the shores of Provence the
+austerities of the Thebaid, became a celebrated school of
+Christian theology and philosophy, a citadel inaccessible to the
+waves of the barbarian invasion, an asylum for the letters and
+sciences which were fleeing from Italy, then overrun by the
+Goths; and, lastly, a nursery of bishops and saints, who spread
+through Gaul the knowledge of the Gospel and the glory of
+Lerins.&nbsp; We shall soon see the rays of his light flash even
+into Ireland and England, by the blessed hands of Patrick and
+Augustine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the year 425, Romanus, a young monk from the neighbourhood
+of Lyons, had gone up into the forests of the Jura, carrying with
+him the &ldquo;Lives of the Hermits,&rdquo; and a few seeds and
+tools; and had settled beneath an enormous pine; shut out from
+mankind by precipices, torrents, and the tangled trunks of
+prim&aelig;val trees, which had fallen and rotted on each other
+age after age.&nbsp; His brother Lupicinus joined him; then
+crowds of disciples; then his sister, and a multitude of
+women.&nbsp; The forests were cleared, the slopes planted; a
+manufacture of box-wood articles&mdash;chairs among the
+rest&mdash;was begun; and within the next fifty years the Abbey
+of Condat, or St. Claude, as it was afterwards called, had
+become, not merely an agricultural colony, or even merely a
+minster for the perpetual worship of God, but the first school of
+that part of Gaul; in which the works of Greek as well as Latin
+orators were taught, not only to the young monks, but to young
+laymen likewise.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the volcanic peaks of the Auvergne were hiding from
+their Arian invaders the ruined gentry of Central France.&nbsp;
+Effeminate and luxurious slave-holders, as they are painted by
+Sidonius Appolineris, bishop of Clermont, in that same Auvergne,
+nothing was left for them when their wealth was gone but to
+become monks: and monks they became.&nbsp; The lava grottoes held
+hermits, who saw visions and d&aelig;mons, as St. Antony had seen
+them in Egypt; while near Tr&ecirc;ves, on the Moselle, a young
+hermit named Wolflaich tried to imitate St. Simeon
+Stylites&rsquo; penance on the pillar; till his bishop,
+foreseeing that in that severe climate he would only kill
+himself, wheedled him away from his station, pulled down the
+pillar in his absence, and bade him be a wiser man.&nbsp; Another
+figure, and a more interesting one, is the famous St. Goar; a
+Gaul, seemingly (from the recorded names of his parents) of noble
+Roman blood, who took his station on the Rhine, under the cliffs
+of that Lurlei so famous in legend and ballad as haunted by some
+fair fiend, whose treacherous song lured the boatmen into the
+whirlpool at their foot.&nbsp; To rescue the shipwrecked boatmen,
+to lodge, feed, and if need be clothe, the travellers along the
+Rhine bank, was St. Goar&rsquo;s especial work; and Wandelbert,
+the monk of Prum, in the Eifel, who wrote his life at
+considerable length, tells us how St. Goar was accused to the
+Archbishop of Tr&ecirc;ves as a hypocrite and a glutton, because
+he ate freely with his guests; and how his calumniators took him
+through the forest to Tr&ecirc;ves; and how he performed divers
+miracles, both on the road and in the palace of the Archbishop,
+notably the famous one of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam,
+mistaking it for a peg.&nbsp; And other miracles of his there
+are, some of them not altogether edifying: but no reader is bound
+to believe them, as Wandelbert is evidently writing in the
+interests of the Abbey of Prum as against those of the
+Prince-Bishops of Tr&ecirc;ves; and with a monk&rsquo;s or
+regular&rsquo;s usual jealousy of the secular or parochial clergy
+and their bishops.</p>
+<p>A more important personage than any of these is the famous St.
+Benedict, father of the Benedictine order, and &ldquo;father of
+all monks,&rdquo; as he was afterwards called, who, beginning
+himself as a hermit, caused the hermit life to fall, not into
+disrepute, but into comparative disuse; while the c&oelig;nobitic
+life&mdash;that is, life, not in separate cells, but in corporate
+bodies, with common property, and under one common rule&mdash;was
+accepted as the general form of the religious life in the
+West.&nbsp; As the author of this organization, and of the
+Benedictine order, to whose learning, as well as to whose piety,
+the world has owed so much, his life belongs rather to a history
+of the monastic orders than to that of the early hermits.&nbsp;
+But it must be always remembered that it was as a hermit that his
+genius was trained; that in solitude he conceived his vast plans;
+in solitude he elaborated the really wise and noble rules of his,
+which he afterwards carried out as far as he could during his
+lifetime in the busy world; and which endured for centuries, a
+solid piece of practical good work.&nbsp; For the existence of
+monks was an admitted fact; even an admitted necessity: St.
+Benedict&rsquo;s work was to tell them, if they chose to be
+monks, what sort of persons they ought to be, and how they ought
+to live, in order to fulfil their own ideal.&nbsp; In the
+solitude of the hills of Subiaco, above the ruined palace of
+Nero, above, too, the town of Nurscia, of whose lords he was the
+last remaining scion, he fled to the mountain grotto, to live the
+outward life of a wild beast, and, as he conceived, the inward
+life of an angel.&nbsp; How he founded twelve monasteries; how he
+fled with some of his younger disciples, to withdraw them from
+the disgusting persecutions and temptations of the neighbouring
+secular clergy; how he settled himself on the still famous Monte
+Cassino, which looks down upon the Gulf of Gaeta, and founded
+there the &ldquo;Archi-Monasterium of Europe,&rdquo; whose abbot
+was in due time first premier baron of the kingdom of
+Naples,&mdash;which counted among its dependencies <a
+name="citation245"></a><a href="#footnote245"
+class="citation">[245]</a> four bishoprics, two principalities,
+twenty earldoms, two hundred and fifty castles, four hundred and
+forty towns or villages, three hundred and thirty-six manors,
+twenty-three seaports, three isles, two hundred mills, three
+hundred territories, sixteen hundred and sixty-two churches, and
+at the end of the sixteenth century an annual revenue of
+1,500,000 ducats,&mdash;are matters which hardly belong to this
+volume, which deals merely with the lives of hermits.</p>
+<h2><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 246</span>THE
+CELTIC HERMITS</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">It</span> is not necessary to enter into
+the vexed question whether any Christianity ever existed in these
+islands of an earlier and purer type than that which was
+professed and practised by the saintly disciples of St.
+Antony.&nbsp; It is at least certain that the earliest historic
+figures which emerge from the haze of barbarous antiquity in both
+the Britains and in Ireland, are those of hermits, who, in
+celibacy and poverty, gather round them disciples, found a
+convent, convert and baptize the heathen, and often, like Antony
+and Hilarion, escape from the bustle and toil of the world into
+their beloved desert.&nbsp; They work the same miracles, see the
+same visions, and live in the same intimacy with the wild
+animals, as the hermits of Egypt, or of Roman Gaul: but their
+history, owing to the wild imagination and (as the legends
+themselves prove) the gross barbarism of the tribes among whom
+they dwell, are so involved in fable and legend, that it is all
+but impossible to separate fact from fiction; all but impossible,
+often, to fix the time at which they lived.</p>
+<p>Their mode of life, it must always be remembered, is said to
+be copied from that of the Roman hermits of Gaul.&nbsp; St.
+Patrick, the apostle of Ireland, seems to have been of Roman or
+Roman British lineage.&nbsp; In his famous
+&ldquo;Confession&rdquo; (which many learned antiquaries consider
+as genuine) he calls his father, Calphurnius a deacon; his
+grandfather, Potitus a priest&mdash;both of these names being
+Roman.&nbsp; He is said to have visited, at some period of his
+life, the monastery of St. Martin at Tours; to have studied with
+St. Germanus at Auxerre; and to have gone to one of the islands
+of the Tuscan sea, probably Lerins itself; and, whether or not we
+believe the story that he was consecrated bishop by Pope
+Celestine at Rome, we can hardly doubt that he was a member of
+that great spiritual succession of ascetics who counted St.
+Antony as their father.</p>
+<p>Such another must that Palladius have been, who was sent, says
+Prosper of Aquitaine, by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish
+Scots, and who (according to another story) was cast on shore on
+the north-east coast of Scotland, founded the church of Fordun,
+in Kincardineshire, and became a great saint among the Pictish
+folk.</p>
+<p>Another prim&aelig;val figure, almost as shadowy as St.
+Patrick, is St. Ninian, a monk of North Wales, who (according to
+Bede) first attempted the conversion of the Southern Picts, and
+built himself, at Whithorn in Galloway, the Candida Casa, or
+White House, a little church of stone,&mdash;a wonder in those
+days of &ldquo;creel houses&rdquo; and wooden stockades.&nbsp; He
+too, according to Bede, who lived some 250 years after his time,
+went to Rome; and he is said to have visited and corresponded
+with St. Martin of Tours.</p>
+<p>Dubricius, again, whom legend makes the contemporary both of
+St. Patrick and of King Arthur, appears in Wales, as bishop and
+abbot of Llandaff.&nbsp; He too is ordained by a Roman bishop,
+St. Germanus of Auxerre; and he too ends his career, according to
+tradition, as a hermit, while his disciples spread away into
+Armorica (Brittany) and Ireland.</p>
+<p>We need not, therefore, be surprised to find Ireland, Wales,
+Cornwall, Scotland, and Brittany, during the next three
+centuries, swarming with saints, who kept up, whether in company
+or alone, the old hermit-life of the Thebaid; or to find them
+wandering, whether on missionary work, or in search of solitude,
+or escaping, like St. Cadoc the Wise, from the Saxon
+invaders.&nbsp; Their frequent journeys to Rome, and even to
+Jerusalem, may perhaps be set down as a fable, invented in after
+years by monks who were anxious to prove their complete
+dependence on the Holy See, and their perfect communion with the
+older and more civilized Christianity of the Roman Empire.</p>
+<p>It is probable enough, also, that Romans from Gaul, as well as
+from Britain, often men of rank and education, who had fled
+before the invading Goths and Franks, and had devoted themselves
+(as we have seen that they often did) to the monastic life,
+should have escaped into those parts of these islands which had
+not already fallen into the hands of the Saxon invaders.&nbsp;
+Ireland, as the most remote situation, would be especially
+inviting to the fugitives; and we can thus understand the story
+which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus, how fifty monks,
+&ldquo;Romans born,&rdquo; sailed to Ireland to learn the
+Scriptures, and to lead a stricter life; and were distributed
+between St. Senan, St. Finnian, St. Brendan, St. Barry, and St.
+Kieran.&nbsp; By such immigrations as this, it may be, Ireland
+became&mdash;as she certainly was for a while&mdash;the refuge of
+what ecclesiastical civilization, learning, and art the barbarian
+invaders had spared; a sanctuary from whence, in after centuries,
+evangelists and teachers went forth once more, not only to
+Scotland and England, but to France and Germany.&nbsp; Very
+fantastic, and often very beautiful, are the stories of these
+men; and sometimes tragical enough, like that of the Welsh St.
+Iltut, cousin of the mythic Arthur, and founder of the great
+monastery of Bangor, on the banks of the Dee, which was
+said&mdash;though we are not bound to believe the fact&mdash;to
+have held more than two thousand monks at the time of the Saxon
+invasion.&nbsp; The wild warrior was converted, says this legend,
+by seeing the earth open and swallow up his comrades, who had
+extorted bread, beer, and a fat pig from St. Cadoc of Llancarvan,
+a princely hermit and abbot, who had persuaded his father and
+mother to embrace the hermit life as the regular, if not the
+only, way of saving their souls.&nbsp; In a paroxysm of terror he
+fled from his fair young wife into the forest; would not allow
+her to share with him even his hut of branches; and devoted
+himself to the labour of making an immense dyke of mud and stones
+to keep out the inundations of a neighbouring river.&nbsp; His
+poor wife went in search of him once more, and found him in the
+bottom of a dyke, no longer a gay knight, but poorly dressed, and
+covered with mud.&nbsp; She went away, and never saw him more;
+&ldquo;fearing to displease God and one so beloved by
+God.&rdquo;&nbsp; Iltut dwelt afterwards for four years in a
+cave, sleeping on the bare rock, and seems at last to have
+crossed over to Brittany, and died at Dol.</p>
+<p>We must not forget&mdash;though he is not strictly a
+hermit&mdash;St. David, the popular saint of the Welsh, son of a
+nephew of the mythic Arthur, and educated by one Paulinus, a
+disciple, it is said, of St. Germanus of Auxerre.&nbsp; He is at
+once monk and bishop: he gathers round him young monks in the
+wilderness, makes them till the ground, drawing the plough by
+their own strength, for he allows them not to own even an
+ox.&nbsp; He does battle against &ldquo;satraps&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;magicians&rdquo;&mdash;probably heathen chieftains and
+Druids; he goes to the Holy Land, and is made archbishop by the
+Patriarch of Jerusalem: he introduces, it would seem, into this
+island the right of sanctuary for criminals in any field
+consecrated to himself.&nbsp; He restores the church of
+Glastonbury over the tomb of his cousin, King Arthur, and dies at
+100 years of age, &ldquo;the head of the whole British nation,
+and honour of his fatherland.&rdquo;&nbsp; He is buried in one of
+his own monasteries at St. David&rsquo;s, near the headland
+whence St. Patrick had seen, in a vision, all Ireland stretched
+out before him, waiting to be converted to Christ; and the Celtic
+people go on pilgrimage to his tomb, even from Brittany and
+Ireland: and, canonized in 1120, he becomes the patron saint of
+Wales.</p>
+<p>From that same point, in what year is not said, an old monk of
+St. David&rsquo;s monastery, named Modonnoc, set sail for
+Ireland, after a long life of labour and virtue.&nbsp; A swarm of
+bees settled upon the bow of his boat, and would not be driven
+away.&nbsp; He took them, whether he would or not, with him into
+Ireland, and introduced there, says the legend, the culture of
+bees and the use of honey.</p>
+<p>Ireland was then the &ldquo;Isle of Saints.&rdquo;&nbsp; Three
+orders of them were counted by later historians: the bishops (who
+seem not to have had necessarily territorial dioceses), with St.
+Patrick at their head, shining like the sun; the second, of
+priests, under St. Columba, shining like the moon; and the third,
+of bishops, priests, and hermits, under Colman and Aidan, shining
+like the stars.&nbsp; Their legends, full of Irish poetry and
+tenderness, and not without touches here and there of genuine
+Irish humour, lie buried now, to all save antiquaries, in the
+folios of the Bollandists and Colgan: but the memory of their
+virtue and beneficence, as well as of their miracles, shadowy and
+distorted by the lapse of centuries, is rooted in the heart and
+brain of the Irish peasantry; and who shall say altogether for
+evil?&nbsp; For with the tradition of their miracles has been
+entwined the tradition of their virtues, as an enduring heirloom
+for the whole Irish race, through the sad centuries which part
+the era of saints from the present time.&nbsp; We see the Irish
+women kneeling beside some well, whose waters were hallowed, ages
+since, by the fancied miracle of some mythic saint, and hanging
+gaudy rags (just as do the half savage Buddhists of the
+Himalayas) upon the bushes round.&nbsp; We see them upon holy
+days crawling on bare and bleeding knees around St.
+Patrick&rsquo;s cell, on the top of Croagh Patrick, the grandest
+mountain, perhaps, with the grandest outlook, in these British
+Isles, where stands still, I believe, an ancient wooden image,
+said to have belonged to St. Patrick himself; and where, too,
+hung till late years (it is now preserved in Dublin) an ancient
+bell; such a strange little oblong bell as the Irish saints
+carried with them to keep off d&aelig;mons; one of those magic
+bells which appear, so far as I am aware, in no country save
+Ireland and Scotland till we come to Tartary and the Buddhists:
+such a bell as came down from heaven to St. Senan: such a bell as
+St. Fursey sent flying through the air to greet St. Cuandy at his
+devotions when he could not come himself: such a bell as another
+saint, wandering in the woods, rang till a stag came out of the
+covert, and carried it for him on his horns.&nbsp; On that peak,
+so legends tell, St. Patrick stood once, in the spirit and power
+of Elias&mdash;after whom the mountain was long named; fasting,
+like Elias, forty days and forty nights, and wrestling with the
+d&aelig;mons of the storm, and the snakes of the fen, and the
+Peishta-More, the gigantic monster of the lakes, till he smote
+the evil things with the golden rod of Jesus, and they rolled
+over the cliff in hideous rout, and perished in the Atlantic far
+below.&nbsp; We know that these tales are but the dreams of
+children: but shall we sneer at the devotion of those poor
+Irish?&nbsp; Not if we remember (what is an undoubted fact) that
+the memory of these same saints has kept up in their minds an
+ideal of nobleness and purity, devotion and beneficence, which,
+down-trodden slaves as they have been, they would otherwise have
+inevitably lost; that it has helped to preserve them from mere
+brutality, and mere ferocity; and that the thought that these men
+were of their own race and their own kin has given them a pride
+in their own race, a sense of national unity and of national
+dignity, which has endured&mdash;and surely for their benefit,
+for reverence for ancestors and the self-respect which springs
+from it is a benefit to every human being&mdash;through all the
+miseries, deserved or undeserved, which have fallen upon the
+Irish since Pope Adrian IV. (the true author of all the woes of
+Ireland), in the year 1155, commissioned Henry II. to conquer
+Ireland and destroy its prim&aelig;val Church, on consideration
+of receiving his share of the booty in the shape of Peter&rsquo;s
+Pence.</p>
+<p>Among these Irish saints, two names stand out as especially
+interesting: that of St. Brendan, and that of St.
+Columba&mdash;the former as the representative of the sailor
+monks of the early period, the other as the great missionary who,
+leaving his monastery at Durrow, in Ireland, for the famous
+island of Hy, Iona, or Icolumbkill, off the western point of
+Mull, became the apostle of Scotland and the north of
+England.&nbsp; I shall first speak of St. Brendan, and at some
+length.&nbsp; His name has become lately familiar to many,
+through the medium of two very beautiful poems, one by Mr.
+Matthew Arnold, and the other by Mr. Sebastian Evans; and it may
+interest those who have read their versions of the story to see
+the oldest form in which the story now exists.</p>
+<p>The Celts, it must be remembered, are not, in general, a
+sea-going folk.&nbsp; They have always neglected the rich
+fisheries of their coasts; and in Ireland every seaport owes its
+existence, not to the natives, but to Norse colonists.&nbsp; Even
+now, the Irishman or Western Highlander, who emigrates to escape
+the &ldquo;Saxons,&rdquo; sails in a ship built and manned by
+those very &ldquo;Saxons,&rdquo; to lands which the Saxons have
+discovered and civilized.&nbsp; But in the seventh and eighth
+centuries, and perhaps earlier, many Celts were voyagers and
+emigrants, not to discover new worlds, but to flee from the old
+one.&nbsp; There were deserts in the sea, as well as on land; in
+them they hoped to escape from men, and, yet more, from
+women.</p>
+<p>They went against their carnal will.&nbsp; They had no liking
+for the salt water.&nbsp; They were horribly frightened, and
+often wept bitterly, as they themselves confess.&nbsp; And they
+had reason for fear; for their vessels were, for the most part,
+only &ldquo;curachs&rdquo; (coracles) of wattled twigs, covered
+with tanned hides.&nbsp; They needed continual exhortation and
+comfort from the holy man who was their captain; and needed often
+miracles likewise for their preservation.&nbsp; Tempests had to
+be changed into calm, and contrary winds into fair ones, by the
+prayers of a saint; and the spirit of prophecy was needed, to
+predict that a whale would be met between Iona and Tiree, who
+appeared accordingly, to the extreme terror of St. Berach&rsquo;s
+crew, swimming with open jaws, and (intent on eating, not monks,
+but herrings) nearly upsetting them by the swell which he
+raised.&nbsp; And when St. Baithenius met the same whale on the
+same day, it was necessary for him to rise, and bless, with
+outspread hands, the sea and the whale, in order to make him sink
+again, after having risen to breathe.&nbsp; But they sailed
+forth, nevertheless, not knowing whither they went; true to their
+great principle, that the spirit must conquer the flesh: and so
+showed themselves actually braver men than the Norse pirates, who
+sailed afterwards over the same seas without fear, and without
+the need of miracles, and who found everywhere on desert islands,
+on sea-washed stacks and skerries, round Orkney, Shetland, and
+the Faro&euml;s, even to Iceland, the cells of these
+&ldquo;Papas&rdquo; or Popes; and named them after the old
+hermits, whose memory still lingers in the names of Papa Strona
+and Papa Westra, in the Orkneys, and in that of Papey, off the
+coast of Iceland, where the first Norse settlers found Irish
+books, bells, and crosiers, the relics of old hermits who had
+long since fasted and prayed their last, and migrated to the
+Lord.</p>
+<p>Adanman, in his life of St. Columba, tells of more than one
+such voyage.&nbsp; He tells how one Baitanus, with the
+saint&rsquo;s blessing, sailed forth to find &ldquo;a
+desert&rdquo; in the sea; and how when he was gone, the saint
+prophesied that he should be buried, not in a desert isle, but
+where a woman should drive sheep over his grave, the which came
+true in the oak-wood of Calgaich, now Londonderry, whither he
+came back again.&nbsp; He tells, again, of one Cormac, &ldquo;a
+knight of Christ,&rdquo; who three times sailed forth in a
+coracle to find some desert isle, and three times failed of his
+purpose; and how, in his last voyage, he was driven northward by
+the wind fourteen days&rsquo; sail, till he came where the summer
+sea was full of foul little stinging creatures, of the size of
+frogs, which beat against the sides of the frail boat, till all
+expected them to be stove in.&nbsp; They clung, moreover, to the
+oar blades; <a name="citation256"></a><a href="#footnote256"
+class="citation">[256]</a> and Cormac was in some danger of never
+seeing land again, had not St. Columba, at home in Iona far away,
+seen him in a vision, him and his fellows, praying and
+&ldquo;watering their cheeks with floods of tears,&rdquo; in the
+midst of &ldquo;perturbations monstrous, horrific, never seen
+before, and almost unspeakable.&rdquo;&nbsp; Calling together his
+monks, he bade them pray for a north wind, which came
+accordingly, and blew Cormac safe back to Iona, to tempt the
+waves no more.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let the reader therefore perpend how
+great and what manner of man this same blessed personage was,
+who, having so great prophetic knowledge, could command, by
+invoking the name of Christ, the winds and ocean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even as late as the year 891, says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:
+&ldquo;Three Scots came to King Alfred, in a boat without any
+oars, from Ireland, whence they had stolen away, because for the
+love of God they desired to be on pilgrimage, they recked not
+where.&nbsp; The boat in which they came was made of two hides
+and a half; and they took with them provisions for seven days;
+and about the seventh day they came on shore in Cornwall, and
+soon after went to King Alfred.&nbsp; Thus they were named,
+Dubslane, and Macbeth, and Maelinmun.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Out of such wild feats as these; out of dim reports of fairy
+islands in the west; of the Canaries and Azores; of that Vinland,
+with its wild corn and wild grapes which Leif, the son of Eirek
+Rauda, had found beyond the ocean a thousand years and one after
+the birth of Christ; of icebergs and floes sailing in the far
+northern sea, upon the edge of the six-months&rsquo; night; out
+of Edda stories of the Midgard snake, which is coiled round the
+world; out of reports, it may be, of Indian fakirs and Buddhist
+shamans; out of scraps of Greek and Arab myth, from the Odyssey
+or the Arabian Nights, brought home by &ldquo;Jorsala
+Farar,&rdquo; vikings who had been for pilgrimage and plunder up
+the Straits of Gibraltar into the far East;&mdash;out of all
+these materials were made up, as years rolled on, the famous
+legend of St. Brendan and his seven years&rsquo; voyage in search
+of the &ldquo;land promised to the saints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This tale was so popular in the middle age, that it appears,
+in different shapes, in almost every early European language. <a
+name="citation257"></a><a href="#footnote257"
+class="citation">[257]</a>&nbsp; It was not only the delight of
+monks, but it stirred up to wild voyages many a secular man in
+search of St. Brendan&rsquo;s Isle, &ldquo;which is not found
+when it is sought,&rdquo; but was said to be visible at times,
+from Palma in the Canaries.&nbsp; The myth must have been well
+known to Columbus, and may have helped to send him forth in
+search of &ldquo;Cathay.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thither (so the Spanish
+peasants believed) Don Roderic had retired from the Moorish
+invaders.&nbsp; There (so the Portuguese fancied) King Sebastian
+was hidden from men, after his reported death in the battle of
+Alcazar.&nbsp; The West Indies, when they were first seen, were
+surely St. Brendan&rsquo;s Isle: and the Mississippi may have
+been, in the eyes of such old adventurers as Don Ferdinando da
+Soto, when he sought for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, the
+very river which St. Brendan found parting in two the Land of
+Promise.&nbsp; From the year 1526 (says M. Jubinal), till as late
+as 1721, armaments went forth from time to time into the
+Atlantic, and went forth in vain.</p>
+<p>For the whole tale, from whatever dim reports of fact they may
+have sprung, is truly (as M. Jubinal calls it) a monkish Odyssey,
+and nothing more.&nbsp; It is a dream of the hermit&rsquo;s
+cell.&nbsp; No woman, no city, nor nation, are ever seen during
+the seven years&rsquo; voyage.&nbsp; Ideal monasteries and ideal
+hermits people the &ldquo;deserts of the ocean.&rdquo;&nbsp; All
+beings therein (save d&aelig;mons and Cyclops) are Christians,
+even to the very birds, and keep the festivals of the Church as
+eternal laws of nature.&nbsp; The voyage succeeds, not by
+seamanship, or geographic knowledge, nor even by chance: but by
+the miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he
+meets; and the wanderings of Ulysses, or of Sinbad, are rational
+and human in comparison with those of St. Brendan.</p>
+<p>Yet there are in them, as was to be expected, elements in
+which the Greek or the Arab legends are altogether deficient;
+perfect innocence, patience, and justice; utter faith in a God
+who prospers the innocent and punishes the guilty; ennobling
+obedience to the saint, who stands out a truly heroic figure
+above his trembling crew; and even more valuable still, the
+belief in, the craving for, an ideal, even though that ideal be
+that of a mere earthly Paradise; the &ldquo;divine
+discontent,&rdquo; as it has been well called, which is the root
+of all true progress; which leaves (thank God) no man at peace
+save him who has said, &ldquo;Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow
+we die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therefore I have written at some length the story of St.
+Brendan; because, though it be but a monk-ideal, it is an ideal
+still: and therefore profitable for all who are not content with
+this world, and its paltry ways.</p>
+<p>Saint Brendan, we read, the son of Finnloga, and great
+grandson of Alta, son of Ogaman, of the race of Ciar son of
+Fergus, was born at Tralee, and founded, in 559, the Abbey of
+Clonfert, <a name="citation260a"></a><a href="#footnote260a"
+class="citation">[260a]</a> and was a man famous for his great
+abstinence and virtues, and the father of nearly 3,000 monks. <a
+name="citation260b"></a><a href="#footnote260b"
+class="citation">[260b]</a>&nbsp; And while he was &ldquo;in his
+warfare,&rdquo; there came to him one evening a holy hermit named
+&ldquo;Barintus,&rdquo; of the royal race of Neill; and when he
+was questioned, he did nought but cast himself on the ground, and
+weep and pray.&nbsp; And when St. Brendan asked him to make
+better cheer for him and his monks, he told him a strange
+tale.&nbsp; How a nephew of his had fled away to be a solitary,
+and found a delicious island, and established a monastery
+therein; and how he himself had gone to see his nephew, and
+sailed with him to the eastward to an island, which was called
+&ldquo;the land of promise of the saints,&rdquo; wide and grassy,
+and bearing all manner of fruits; wherein was no night, for the
+Lord Jesus Christ was the light thereof; and how they abode there
+for a long while without eating and drinking; and when they
+returned to his nephew&rsquo;s monastery, the brethren knew well
+where they had been, for the fragrance of Paradise lingered on
+their garments for nearly forty days.</p>
+<p>So Barintus told his story, and went back to his cell.&nbsp;
+But St. Brendan called together his most loving fellow-warriors,
+as he called them, and told them how he had set his heart on
+seeking that Promised Land.&nbsp; And he went up to the top of
+the hill in Kerry, which is still called Mount Brendan, with
+fourteen chosen monks; and there, at the utmost corner of the
+world, he built him a coracle of wattle, and covered it with
+hides tanned in oak-bark and softened with butter, and set up in
+it a mast and a sail, and took forty days&rsquo; provision, and
+commanded his monks to enter the boat, in the name of the Holy
+Trinity.&nbsp; And as he stood alone, praying on the shore, three
+more monks from his monastery came up, and fell at his feet, and
+begged to go too, or they would die in that place of hunger and
+thirst; for they were determined to wander with him all the days
+of their life.&nbsp; So he gave them leave.&nbsp; But two of
+them, he prophesied, would come to harm and to judgment.&nbsp; So
+they sailed away toward the summer solstice, with a fair wind,
+and had no need to row.&nbsp; But after twelve days the wind fell
+to a calm, and they had only light airs at night, till forty days
+were past, and all their victual spent.&nbsp; Then they saw
+toward the north a lofty island, walled round with cliffs, and
+went about it three days ere they could find a harbour.&nbsp; And
+when they landed, a dog came fawning on them, and they followed
+it up to a great hall with beds and seats, and water to wash
+their feet.&nbsp; But St. Brendan said, &ldquo;Beware, lest Satan
+bring you into temptation.&nbsp; For I see him busy with one of
+those three who followed us.&rdquo;&nbsp; Now the hall was hung
+all round with vessels of divers metals, and bits and horns
+overlaid with silver.&nbsp; Then St. Brendan told his servant to
+bring the meal which God had prepared; and at once a table was
+laid with napkins, and loaves wondrous white, and fishes.&nbsp;
+Then they blessed God, and ate, and took likewise drink as much
+as they would, and lay down to sleep.&nbsp; Then St. Brendan saw
+the devil&rsquo;s work; namely, a little black boy holding a
+silver bit, and calling the brother aforementioned.&nbsp; So they
+rested three days and three nights.&nbsp; But when they went to
+the ship, St. Brendan charged them with theft, and told what was
+stolen, and who had stolen it.&nbsp; Then the brother cast out of
+his bosom a silver bit, and prayed for mercy.&nbsp; And when he
+was forgiven and raised up from the ground, behold, a little
+black boy flew out of his bosom, howling aloud, and crying,
+&ldquo;Why, O man of God, dost thou drive me from my habitation,
+where I have dwelt for seven years?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the brother received the Holy Eucharist, and died
+straightway, and was buried in that isle, and the brethren saw
+the angels carry his soul aloft, for St. Brendan had told him
+that so it should be: but that the brother who came with him
+should have his sepulchre in hell.&nbsp; And as they went on
+board, a youth met them with a basket of loaves and a bottle of
+water, and told them that it would not fail till Pentecost.</p>
+<p>Then they sailed again many days, till they came to an isle
+full of great streams and fountains swarming with fish; and sheep
+there all white, as big as oxen, so many that they hid the face
+of the earth.&nbsp; And they stayed there till Easter Eve, and
+took one of the sheep (which followed them as if it had been
+tame) to eat for the Paschal feast.&nbsp; Then came a man with
+loaves baked in the ashes, and other victual, and fell down
+before St. Brendan and cried, &ldquo;How have I merited this, O
+pearl of God, that thou shouldest be fed at this holy tide from
+the labours of my hand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And they learned from that man that the sheep grew there so
+big because they were never milked, nor pinched with winter, but
+they fed in those pastures all the year round.&nbsp; Moreover, he
+told them that they must keep Easter in an isle hard by, opposite
+a shore to the west, which some called the Paradise of Birds.</p>
+<p>So to the nearest island they sailed.&nbsp; It had no harbour,
+nor sandy shore, and there was no turf on it, and very little
+wood.&nbsp; Now the Saint knew what manner of isle it was, but he
+would not tell the brethren, lest they should be terrified.&nbsp;
+So he bade them make the boat fast stem and stern, and when
+morning came he bade those who were priests to celebrate each a
+mass, and then to take the lamb&rsquo;s fleece on shore and cook
+it in the caldron with salt, while St. Brendan remained in the
+boat.</p>
+<p>But when the fire blazed up, and the pot began to boil, that
+island began to move like water.&nbsp; Then the brethren ran to
+the boat imploring St. Brendan&rsquo;s aid; and he helped them
+each in by the hand, and cast off.&nbsp; After which the island
+sank in the ocean.&nbsp; And when they could see their fire
+burning more than two miles off, St. Brendan told them how that
+God had revealed to him that night the mystery; that this was no
+isle, but the biggest of all fishes which swam in the ocean,
+always it tries to make its head and its tail meet, but cannot,
+by reason of its length; and its name is Jasconius.</p>
+<p>Then, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, very
+grassy and wooded, and full of flowers.&nbsp; And they found a
+little stream, and towed the boat up it (for the stream was of
+the same width as the boat), with St. Brendan sitting on board,
+till they came to the fountain thereof.&nbsp; Then said the holy
+father, &ldquo;See, brethren, the Lord has given us a place
+wherein to celebrate his holy Resurrection.&nbsp; And if we had
+nought else, this fountain, I think, would serve for food as well
+as drink.&rdquo;&nbsp; For the fountain was too admirable.&nbsp;
+Over it was a huge tree of wonderful breadth, but no great
+height, covered with snow-white birds, so that its leaves and
+boughs could scarce be seen.</p>
+<p>And when the man of God saw that, he was so desirous to know
+the cause of that assemblage of birds, that he besought God upon
+his knees, with tears, saying, &ldquo;God, who knowest the
+unknown, and revealest the hidden, thou knowest the anxiety of my
+heart. . . .&nbsp; Deign of thy great mercy to reveal to me thy
+secret. . . .&nbsp; But not for the merit of my own dignity, but
+regarding thy clemency, do I presume to ask.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then one of those birds flew from off the tree, and his wings
+sounded like bells over the boat.&nbsp; And he sat on the prow,
+and spread his wings joyfully, and looked quietly on St.
+Brendan.&nbsp; And when the man of God questioned that bird, it
+told how they were of the spirits which fell in the great ruin of
+the old enemy; not by sin or by consent, but predestined by the
+piety of God to fall with those with whom they were
+created.&nbsp; But they suffered no punishment; only they could
+not, in part, behold the presence of God.&nbsp; They wandered
+about this world, like other spirits of the air, and firmament,
+and earth.&nbsp; But on holy days they took those shapes of
+birds, and praised their Creator in that place.</p>
+<p>Then the bird told him, how he and his monks had wandered one
+year already, and should wander for six more; and every year
+should celebrate their Easter in that place, and after find the
+Land of Promise; and so flew back to its tree.</p>
+<p>And when the eventide was come, the birds began all with one
+voice to sing, and clap their wings, crying, &ldquo;Thou, O God,
+art praised in Zion, and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in
+Jerusalem.&rdquo;&nbsp; And always they repeated that verse for
+an hour, and their melody and the clapping of their wings was
+like music which drew tears by its sweetness.</p>
+<p>And when the man of God wakened his monks at the third watch
+of the night with the verse, &ldquo;Thou shalt open my lips, O
+Lord,&rdquo; all the birds answered, &ldquo;Praise the Lord, all
+his angels; praise him, all his virtues.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when
+the dawn shone, they sang again, &ldquo;The splendour of the Lord
+God is over us;&rdquo; and at the third hour, &ldquo;Sing psalms
+to our God, sing; sing to our King, sing with
+wisdom.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at the sixth, &ldquo;The Lord hath
+lifted up the light of his countenance upon us, and had mercy on
+us.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at the ninth, &ldquo;Behold how good and
+pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in unity.&rdquo;&nbsp; So
+day and night those birds gave praise to God.&nbsp; St. Brendan,
+therefore, seeing these things, gave thanks to God for all his
+marvels, and the brethren were refreshed with that spiritual food
+till the octave of Easter.</p>
+<p>After which, St. Brendan advised to take of the water of the
+fountain; for till then they had only used it to wash their feet
+and hands.&nbsp; But there came to him the same man who had been
+with them three days before Easter, and with his boat full of
+meat and drink, and said, &ldquo;My brothers, here you have
+enough to last till Pentecost: but do not drink of that
+fountain.&nbsp; For its nature is, that whosoever drinks will
+sleep for four-and-twenty hours.&rdquo;&nbsp; So they stayed till
+Pentecost, and rejoiced in the song of the birds.&nbsp; And after
+mass at Pentecost, the man brought them food again, and bade them
+take of the water of the fountain and depart.&nbsp; Then the
+birds came again, and sat upon the prow, and told them how they
+must, every year, celebrate Easter in the Isle of Birds, and
+Easter Eve upon the back of the fish Jasconius; and how, after
+eight months, they should come to the isle called Ailbey, and
+keep their Christmas there.</p>
+<p>After which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of
+sight of land, and only eating after every two or three days,
+till they came to an island, along which they sailed for forty
+days, and found no harbour.&nbsp; Then they wept and prayed, for
+they were almost worn out with weariness; and after they had
+fasted and prayed for three days, they saw a narrow harbour, and
+two fountains, one foul, one clear.&nbsp; But when the brethren
+hurried to draw water, St. Brendan (as he had done once before)
+forbade them, saying that they must take nought without leave
+from the elders who were in that isle.</p>
+<p>And of the wonders which they saw in that isle it were too
+long to tell: how there met them an exceeding old man, with
+snow-white hair, who fell at St. Brendan&rsquo;s feet three
+times, and led him in silence up to a monastery of
+four-and-twenty silent monks, who washed their feet, and fed them
+with bread and water, and roots of wonderful sweetness; and then
+at last, opening his mouth, told them how that bread was sent
+them perpetually, they knew not from whence; and how they had
+been there eighty years, since the times of St. Patrick, and how
+their father Ailbey and Christ had nourished them; and how they
+grew no older, nor ever fell sick, nor were overcome by cold or
+heat; and how brother never spoke to brother, but all things were
+done by signs; and how he led them to a square chapel, with three
+candles before the mid-altar, and two before each of the side
+altars; and how they, and the chalices and patens, and all the
+other vessels, were of crystal; and how the candles were lighted
+always by a fiery arrow, which came in through the window, and
+returned; and how St. Brendan kept his Christmas there, and then
+sailed away till Lent, and came to a fruitful island where he
+found fish; and how when certain brethren drank too much of the
+charmed water they slept, some three days, and some one; and how
+they sailed north, and then east, till they came back to the Isle
+of Sheep at Easter, and found on the shore their caldron, which
+they had lost on Jasconius&rsquo;s back; and how, sailing away,
+they were chased by a mighty fish which spouted foam, but was
+slain by another fish which spouted fire; and how they took
+enough of its flesh to last them three months; and how they came
+to an island flat as the sea, without trees, or aught that waved
+in the wind; and how on that island were three troops of monks
+(as the holy man had foretold), standing a stone&rsquo;s throw
+from each other: the first of boys, robed in snow-white; the
+second of young men, dressed in hyacinthine; the third of old
+men, in purple dalmatics, singing alternately their psalms, all
+day and night: and how when they stopped singing, a cloud of
+wondrous brightness overshadowed the isle; and how two of the
+young men, ere they sailed away, brought baskets of grapes, and
+asked that one of the monks (as had been prophesied) should
+remain with them, in the Isle of Strong Men; and how St. Brendan
+let him go, saying, &ldquo;In a good hour did thy mother conceive
+thee, because thou hast merited to dwell with such a
+congregation;&rdquo; and how those grapes were so big, that a
+pound of juice ran out of each of them, and an ounce thereof fed
+each brother for a whole day, and was as sweet as honey; and how
+a magnificent bird dropped into the ship the bough of an unknown
+tree, with a bunch of grapes thereon; and how they came to a land
+where the trees were all bowed down with vines, and their odour
+as the odour of a house full of pomegranates; and how they fed
+forty days on those grapes, and strange herbs and roots; and how
+they saw flying against them the bird which is called gryphon;
+and how that bird who had brought the bough tore out the
+gryphon&rsquo;s eyes, and slew him; and how they looked down into
+the clear sea, and saw all the fishes sailing round and round,
+head to tail, innumerable as flocks in the pastures, and were
+terrified, and would have had the man of God celebrate mass in
+silence, lest the fish should hear, and attack them; and how the
+man of God laughed at their folly; and how they came to a column
+of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy round it of the colour
+of silver, harder than marble, and sailed in through an opening,
+and found it all light within; <a name="citation269"></a><a
+href="#footnote269" class="citation">[269]</a> and how they found
+in that hall a chalice of the same stuff as the canopy, and a
+paten of that of the column, and took them, that they might make
+many believe; and how they sailed out again, and past a treeless
+island, covered with slag and forges; and how a great hairy man,
+fiery and smutty, came down and shouted after them; and how when
+they made the sign of the Cross and sailed away, he and his
+fellows brought down huge lumps of burning slag in tongs, and
+hurled them after the ship; and how they went back, and blew
+their forges up, till the whole island flared, and the sea
+boiled, and the howling and stench followed them, even when they
+were out of sight of that evil isle; and how St. Brendan bade
+them strengthen themselves in faith and spiritual arms, for they
+were now on the confines of hell, therefore they must watch, and
+play the man.&nbsp; All this must needs be hastened over, that we
+may come to the famous legend of Judas Iscariot.</p>
+<p>They saw a great and high mountain toward the north, with
+smoke about its peak.&nbsp; And the wind blew them close under
+the cliffs, which were of immense height, so that they could
+hardly see their top, upright as walls, and black as coal. <a
+name="citation270"></a><a href="#footnote270"
+class="citation">[270]</a>&nbsp; Then he who remained of the
+three brethren who had followed St. Brendan sprang out of the
+ship, and waded to the cliff foot, groaning, and crying,
+&ldquo;Woe to me, father, for I am carried away from you; and
+cannot turn back.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the brethren backed the ship,
+and cried to the Lord for mercy.&nbsp; But the blessed Father
+Brendan saw how that wretch was carried off by a multitude of
+devils, and all on fire among them.&nbsp; Then a fair wind blew
+them away southward; and when they looked back they saw the peak
+of the isle uncovered, and flame spouting from it up to heaven,
+and sinking back again, till the whole mountain seemed one
+burning pile.</p>
+<p>After that terrible vision they sailed seven days to the
+south, till Father Brendan saw a dense cloud; when they neared
+it, a form as of a man sitting, and before him a veil, as big as
+a sack, hanging between two iron tongs, and rocking on the waves
+like a boat in a whirlwind.&nbsp; Which when the brethren saw
+some thought was a bird, and some a boat; but the man of God bade
+them give over arguing, and row thither.&nbsp; And when they got
+near, the waves were still, as if they had been frozen; and they
+found a man sitting on a rough and shapeless rock, and the waves
+beating over his head; and when they fell back, the bare rock
+appeared on which that wretch was sitting.&nbsp; And the cloth
+which hung before him the wind moved, and beat him with it on the
+eyes and brow.&nbsp; But when the blessed man asked him who he
+was, and how he had earned that doom, he said, &ldquo;I am that
+most wretched Judas, who made the worst of all bargains.&nbsp;
+But I hold not this place for any merit of my own, but for the
+ineffable mercy of Christ.&nbsp; I expect no place of repentance:
+but for the indulgence and mercy of the Redeemer of the world,
+and for the honour of His holy resurrection, I have this
+refreshment; for it is the Lord&rsquo;s-day now, and as I sit
+here I seem to myself in a paradise of delight, by reason of the
+pains which will be mine this evening; for when I am in my pains
+I burn day and night like lead melted in a pot.&nbsp; But in the
+midst of that mountain which you saw, is Leviathan with his
+satellites, and I was there when he swallowed your brother; and
+therefore the king of hell rejoiced, and sent forth huge flames,
+as he doth always when he devours the souls of the
+impious.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he told them how he had his
+refreshings there every Lord&rsquo;s-day from even to even, and
+from Christmas to Epiphany, and from Easter to Pentecost, and
+from the Purification of the Blessed Virgin to her Assumption:
+but the rest of his time he was tormented with Herod and Pilate,
+Annas and Caiaphas; and so adjured them to intercede for him with
+the Lord that he might be there at least till sunrise in the
+morn.&nbsp; To whom the man of God said, &ldquo;The will of the
+Lord be done.&nbsp; Thou shalt not be carried off by the
+d&aelig;mons till to-morrow.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he asked him of
+that clothing, and he told how he had given it to a leper when he
+was the Lord&rsquo;s chamberlain; &ldquo;but because it was no
+more mine than it was the Lord&rsquo;s and the other
+brethren&rsquo;s, therefore it is of no comfort to me, but rather
+a hurt.&nbsp; And these forks I gave to the priests to hang their
+caldrons on.&nbsp; And this stone on which I always sit I took
+off the road, and threw it into a ditch for a stepping-stone,
+before I was a disciple of the Lord.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation272"></a><a href="#footnote272"
+class="citation">[272]</a></p>
+<p>&ldquo;But when the evening hour had covered the face of
+Thetis,&rdquo; behold a multitude of d&aelig;mons shouting in a
+ring, and bidding the man of God depart, for else they could not
+approach; and they dared not behold their prince&rsquo;s face
+unless they brought back their prey.&nbsp; But the man of God
+bade them depart.&nbsp; And in the morning an infinite multitude
+of devils covered the face of the abyss, and cursed the man of
+God for coming thither; for their prince had scourged them
+cruelly that night for not bringing back the captive.&nbsp; But
+the man of God returned their curses on their own heads, saying
+that &ldquo;cursed was he whom they blest, and blessed he whom
+they cursed;&rdquo; and when they threatened Judas with double
+torments because he had not come back, the man of God rebuked
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Art thou, then, Lord of all,&rdquo; they asked,
+&ldquo;that we should obey thee?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I am the
+servant,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;of the Lord of all; and
+whatsoever I command in his name is done; and I have no ministry
+save what he concedes to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they blasphemed him till he left Judas, and then returned,
+and carried off that wretched soul with great rushing and
+howling.</p>
+<p>After which they saw a little isle; and the holy man told them
+that now seven years were nigh past; and that in that isle they
+should soon see a hermit, named Paul the Spiritual, who had lived
+for sixty years without any corporeal food, but for thirty years
+before that he had received food from a certain beast.</p>
+<p>The isle was very small, about a furlong round; a bare rock,
+so steep that they could find no landing-place.&nbsp; But at last
+they found a creek, into which they thrust the boat&rsquo;s bow,
+and then discovered a very difficult ascent.&nbsp; Up that the
+man of God climbed, bidding them wait for him, for they must not
+enter the isle without the hermit&rsquo;s leave; and when he came
+to the top he saw two caves, with their mouths opposite each
+other, and a very small round well before the cave mouth, whose
+waters, as fast as they ran out, were sucked in again by the
+rock. <a name="citation274"></a><a href="#footnote274"
+class="citation">[274]</a>&nbsp; As he went to one entrance, the
+old man came out of the other, saying, &ldquo;Behold how good and
+pleasant it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity,&rdquo; and
+bade him call up the brethren from the boat; and when they came,
+he kissed them, and called them each by his name.&nbsp; Whereat
+they marvelled, not only at his spirit of prophecy, but also at
+his attire; for he was all covered with his locks and beard, and
+with the other hair of his body, down to his feet.&nbsp; His hair
+was white as snow for age, and none other covering had he.&nbsp;
+When St. Brendan saw that, he sighed again and again, and said
+within himself, &ldquo;Woe is me, sinner that I am, who wear a
+monk&rsquo;s habit, and have many monks under me, when I see a
+man of angelic dignity sitting in a cell, still in the flesh, and
+unhurt by the vices of the flesh.&rdquo;&nbsp; To whom the man of
+God answered, &ldquo;Venerable father, what great and many
+wonders God hath showed thee, which he hath manifested to none of
+the fathers, and thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not
+worthy to wear a monk&rsquo;s habit.&nbsp; I tell thee, father,
+that thou art greater than a monk; for a monk is fed and clothed
+by the work of his own hands: but God has fed and clothed thee
+and thy family for seven years with his secret things, while
+wretched I sit here on this rock like a bird, naked save the hair
+of my body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then St. Brendan asked him how and whence he came thither; and
+he told how he was nourished in St. Patrick&rsquo;s monastery for
+fifty years, and took care of the cemetery; and how when the dean
+had bidden him dig a grave, an old man, whom he knew not,
+appeared to him, and forbade him, for that grave was another
+man&rsquo;s.&nbsp; And how he revealed to him that he was St.
+Patrick, his own abbot, who had died the day before, and bade him
+bury that brother elsewhere, and go down to the sea and find a
+boat, which would take him to the place where he should wait for
+the day of his death; and how he landed on that rock, and thrust
+the boat off with his foot, and it went swiftly back to its own
+land; and how, on the very first day, a beast came to him,
+walking on its hind paws, and between its fore paws a fish, and
+grass to make a fire, and laid them at his feet; and so every
+third day for twenty years; and every Lord&rsquo;s day a little
+water came out of the rock, so that he could drink and wash his
+hands; and how after thirty years he had found these caves and
+that fountain, and had fed for the last sixty years on nought but
+the water thereof.&nbsp; For all the years of his life were 150,
+and henceforth he awaited the day of his judgment in that his
+flesh.</p>
+<p>Then they took of that water, and received his blessing, and
+kissed each other in the peace of Christ, and sailed southward:
+but their food was the water from the isle of the man of
+God.&nbsp; Then (as Paul the Hermit had foretold) they came back
+on Easter Eve to the Isle of Sheep, and to him who used to give
+them victuals; and then went on to the fish Jasconius, and sang
+praises on his back all night, and mass at morn.&nbsp; After
+which the fish carried them on his back to the Paradise of Birds,
+and there they stayed till Pentecost.&nbsp; Then the man who
+always tended them, bade them fill their skins from the fountain,
+and he would lead them to the land promised to the saints.&nbsp;
+And all the birds wished them a prosperous voyage in God&rsquo;s
+name; and they sailed away, with forty days&rsquo; provision, the
+man being their guide, till after forty days they came at evening
+to a great darkness which lay round the Promised Land.&nbsp; But
+after they had sailed through it for an hour, a great light shone
+round them, and the boat stopped at a shore.&nbsp; And when they
+landed they saw a spacious land, full of trees bearing fruit as
+in autumn time.&nbsp; And they walked about that land for forty
+days, eating of the fruit and drinking of the fountains, and
+found no end thereof.&nbsp; And there was no night there, but the
+light shone like the light of the sun.&nbsp; At last they came to
+a great river, which they could not cross, so that they could not
+find out the extent of that land.&nbsp; And as they were
+pondering over this, a youth, with shining face and fair to look
+upon, met them, and kissed them with great joy, calling them each
+by his name, and said, &ldquo;Brethren, peace be with you, and
+with all that follow the peace of Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp; And after
+that, &ldquo;Blessed are they who dwell in thy house, O Lord;
+they shall be for ever praising thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he told St. Brendan that that was the land which he had
+been seeking for seven years, and that he must now return to his
+own country, taking of the fruits of that land, and of its
+precious gems, as much as his ship could carry; for the days of
+his departure were at hand, when he should sleep in peace with
+his holy brethren.&nbsp; But after many days that land should be
+revealed to his successors, and should be a refuge for Christians
+in persecution.&nbsp; As for the river that they saw, it parted
+that island; and the light shone there for ever, because Christ
+was the light thereof.</p>
+<p>Then St. Brendan asked if that land would ever be revealed to
+men: and the youth answered, that when the most high Creator
+should have put all nations under his feet, then that land should
+be manifested to all his elect.</p>
+<p>After which St. Brendan, when the youth had blessed him, took
+of the fruits and of the gems, and sailed back through the
+darkness, and returned to his monastery; whom when the brethren
+saw, they glorified God for the miracles which he had heard and
+seen.&nbsp; After which he ended his life in peace.&nbsp;
+Amen.</p>
+<p>Here ends (says the French version) concerning St. Brendan,
+and the marvels which he found in the sea of Ireland.</p>
+<h2><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 278</span>ST.
+MALO</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Intermingled</span>, fantastically and
+inconsistently, with the story of St. Brendan, is that of St.
+Maclovius or Machutus, who has given his name to the seaport of
+St. Malo, in Brittany.&nbsp; His life, written by Sigebert, a
+monk of Gembloux, about the year 1100, tells us how he was a
+Breton, who sailed with St. Brendan in search of the fairest of
+all islands, in which the citizens of heaven were said to
+dwell.&nbsp; With St. Brendan St. Malo celebrated Easter on the
+whale&rsquo;s back, and with St. Brendan he returned.&nbsp; But
+another old hagiographer, Johannes &agrave; Bosco, tells a
+different story, making St. Malo an Irishman brought up by St.
+Brendan, and preserved by his prayers from a wave of the
+sea.&nbsp; He gives, moreover, to the Isle of Paradise the name
+of Inga, and says that St. Brendan and his companions never
+reached it after all, but came home after sailing round the
+Orkneys and other Northern isles.&nbsp; The fact is, that the
+same saints reappear so often on both sides of the British and
+the Irish Channels, that we must take the existence of many of
+them as mere legend, which has been carried from land to land by
+monks in their migrations, and taken root upon each fresh soil
+which it has reached.&nbsp; One incident in St. Malo&rsquo;s
+voyage is so fantastic, and so grand likewise, that it must not
+be omitted.&nbsp; The monks come to an island whereon they find
+the barrow of some giant of old time.&nbsp; St. Malo, seized with
+pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the mound and raises
+the dead to life.&nbsp; Then follows a strange conversation
+between the giant and the saint.&nbsp; He was slain, he says, by
+his kinsmen, and ever since has been tormented in the other
+world.&nbsp; In that nether pit they know (he says) of the Holy
+Trinity: but that knowledge is rather harm than gain to them,
+because they did not choose to know it when alive on earth.&nbsp;
+Therefore he begs to be baptized, and so delivered from his
+pain.&nbsp; He is therefore instructed, catechised, and in due
+time baptized, and admitted to the Holy Communion.&nbsp; For
+fifteen days more he remains alive: and then, dying once more, is
+again placed in his sepulchre, and left in peace.</p>
+<p>From fragmentary recollections of such tales as these (it may
+be observed in passing) may have sprung the strange fancy of the
+modern Cornishmen, which identifies these very Celtic saints of
+their own race with the giants who, according to Geoffrey of
+Monmouth, inhabited the land before Brutus and his Trojans
+founded the Arthuric dynasty.&nbsp; St. Just, for instance, who
+is one of the guardian saints of the Land&rsquo;s End, and St.
+Kevern, one of the guardian saints of the Lizard, are both
+giants; and Cornishmen a few years since would tell how St. Just
+came from his hermitage by Cape Cornwall to visit St. Kevern in
+his cave on the east side of Goonhilly Downs; and how they took
+the Holy Communion together; and how St. Just, tempted by the
+beauty of St. Kevern&rsquo;s paten and chalice, arose in the
+night and fled away with the holy vessels, wading first the Looe
+Pool, and then Mount&rsquo;s Bay itself; and how St. Kevern
+pursued him, and hurled after him three great boulders of
+porphyry, two of which lie on the slates and granites to this
+day; till St. Just, terrified at the might of his saintly
+brother, tossed the stolen vessels ashore opposite St.
+Michael&rsquo;s Mount, and, fleeing back to his own hermitage,
+never appeared again in the neighbourhood of St. Kevern.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; St. Malo, coming home with St. Brendan,
+craves for peace, and solitude, and the hermit&rsquo;s cell, and
+goes down to the sea-shore, to find a vessel which may carry him
+out once more into the infinite unknown.&nbsp; Then there comes
+by a boat with no one in it but a little boy, who takes him on
+board, and carries him to the isle of the hermit Aaron, near the
+town of Aletha, which men call St. Malo now; and then the little
+boy vanishes away, and St. Malo knows that he was Christ
+himself.&nbsp; There he lives with Aaron, till the Bretons of the
+neighbourhood make him their bishop.&nbsp; He converts the
+idolaters around, and performs the usual miracles of hermit
+saints.&nbsp; He changes water into wine, and restores to life
+not only a dead man, but a dead sow likewise, over whose
+motherless litter a wretched slave, who has by accident killed
+the sow with a stone, is weeping and wringing his hands in dread
+of his master&rsquo;s fury.&nbsp; While St. Malo is pruning
+vines, he lays his cape upon the ground, and a redbreast comes
+and lays an egg on it.&nbsp; He leaves it there, for the
+bird&rsquo;s sake, till the young are hatched, knowing, says his
+biographer, that without God the Father not a sparrow falls to
+the ground.&nbsp; Hailoch, the prince of Brittany, destroys his
+church, and is struck blind.&nbsp; Restored to sight by the
+saint, he bestows large lands on the Church.&nbsp; &ldquo;The
+impious generation,&rdquo; who, with their children after them,
+have lost their property by Hailoch&rsquo;s gift, rise against
+St. Malo.&nbsp; They steal his horses, and in mockery leave him
+only a mare.&nbsp; They beat his baker, tie his feet under the
+horse&rsquo;s body, and leave him on the sand to be drowned by
+the rising tide.&nbsp; The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, and
+the baker is saved.</p>
+<p>St. Malo, weary of the wicked Bretons, flees to Saintonge in
+Aquitaine, where he performs yet more miracles.&nbsp; Meanwhile,
+a dire famine falls on the Bretons, and a thousand horrible
+diseases.&nbsp; Penitent, they send for St. Malo, who delivers
+them and their flocks.&nbsp; But, at the command of an angel, he
+returns to Saintonge and dies there, and Saintonge has his
+relics, and the innumerable miracles which they work, even to the
+days of Sigebert, of Gembloux.</p>
+<h2><a name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 282</span>ST.
+COLUMBA</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> famous St. Columba cannot
+perhaps be numbered among the hermits: but as the spiritual
+father of many hermits, as well as many monks, and as one whose
+influence upon the Christianity of these islands is notorious and
+extensive, he must needs have some notice in these pages.&nbsp;
+Those who wish to study his life and works at length will of
+course read Dr. Reeves&rsquo;s invaluable edition of
+Adamnan.&nbsp; The more general reader will find all that he need
+know in Mr. Hill Burton&rsquo;s excellent &ldquo;History of
+Scotland,&rdquo; chapters vii. and viii.; and also in Mr.
+Maclear&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of Christian Missions during the
+Middle Ages&rdquo;&mdash;a book which should be in every Sunday
+library.</p>
+<p>St. Columba, like St. David and St. Cadoc of Wales, and like
+many great Irish saints, is a prince and a statesman as well as a
+monk.&nbsp; He is mixed up in quarrels between rival
+tribes.&nbsp; He is concerned, according to antiquaries, in three
+great battles, one of which sprang, according to some, from
+Columba&rsquo;s own misdeeds.&nbsp; He copies by stealth the
+Psalter of St. Finnian.&nbsp; St. Finnian demands the copy,
+saying it was his as much as the original.&nbsp; The matter is
+referred to King Dermod, who pronounces, in high court at Tara,
+the famous decision which has become a proverb in Ireland, that
+&ldquo;to every cow belongs her own calf.&rdquo; <a
+name="citation283"></a><a href="#footnote283"
+class="citation">[283]</a>&nbsp; St. Columba, who does not seem
+at this time to have possessed the dove-like temper which his
+name, according to his disciples, indicates, threatens to avenge
+upon the king his unjust decision.&nbsp; The son of the
+king&rsquo;s steward and the son of the King of Connaught, a
+hostage at Dermod&rsquo;s court, are playing hurley on the green
+before Dermod&rsquo;s palace.&nbsp; The young prince strikes the
+other boy, kills him, and flies for protection to Columba.&nbsp;
+He is nevertheless dragged away, and slain upon the spot.&nbsp;
+Columba leaves the palace in a rage, goes to his native mountains
+of Donegal, and returns at the head of an army of northern and
+western Irish to fight the great battle of Cooldrevny in
+Sligo.&nbsp; But after a while public opinion turns against him;
+and at the Synod of Teltown, in Meath, it is proclaimed that
+Columba, the man of blood, shall quit Ireland, and win for Christ
+out of heathendom as many souls as have perished in that great
+fight.&nbsp; Then Columba, with twelve comrades, sails in a
+coracle for the coast of Argyleshire; and on the eve of
+Pentecost, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 563, lands upon
+that island which, it may be, will be famous to all times as
+Iona, Hy, or Icolumkill,&mdash;Hy of Columb of the Cells.</p>
+<p>Thus had Columba, if the tale be true, undertaken a noble
+penance; and he performed it like a noble man.&nbsp; If,
+according to the fashion of those times, he bewailed his sins
+with tears, he was no morbid or selfish recluse, but a man of
+practical power, and of wide humanity.&nbsp; Like one of
+Homer&rsquo;s old heroes, St. Columba could turn his hand to
+every kind of work.&nbsp; He could turn the hand-mill, work on
+the farm, heal the sick, and command as a practised sailor the
+little fleet of coracles which lay hauled up on the strand of
+Iona, ready to carry him and his monks on their missionary
+voyages to the mainland or the isles.&nbsp; Tall, powerful,
+handsome, with a face which, as Adamnan said, made all who saw
+him glad, and a voice so stentorian that it could be heard at
+times a full mile off, and coming too of royal race, it is no
+wonder if he was regarded as a sort of demigod, not only by his
+own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs to whom he preached the
+Cross.&nbsp; We hear of him at Craig Phadrick, near Inverness; at
+Skye, at Tiree, and other islands; we hear of him receiving
+visits from his old monks of Derry and Durrow; returning to
+Ireland to decide between rival chiefs; and at last dying at the
+age of seventy-seven, kneeling before the altar in his little
+chapel of Iona&mdash;a death as beautiful as had been the last
+thirty-four years of his life; and leaving behind him disciples
+destined to spread the light of Christianity over the whole of
+Scotland and the northern parts of England.</p>
+<p>St. Columba, at one period or other of his life, is said to
+have visited a missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in
+Scotland as St. Kentigern, or more commonly St. Mungo, the patron
+saint of Glasgow.&nbsp; The two men, it is said (but the story
+belongs to the twelfth century, and can hardly be depended on),
+exchanged their crooked staves or crosiers in token of Christian
+brotherhood, and that which St. Columba is said to have given to
+St. Kentigern was preserved in Ripon Cathedral to the beginning
+of the fifteenth century.&nbsp; But who St. Kentigern was, or
+what he really did, is hard to say; for all his legends, like
+most of these early ones, are as tangled as a dream.&nbsp; He
+dies in the year 601: and yet he is the disciple of the famous
+St. Servanus or St. Serf, who lived in the times of St. Palladius
+and St. Patrick, 180 years before.&nbsp; This St. Serf is a
+hermit of the true old type; and even if his story be, as Dr.
+Reeves thinks, a fabrication throughout, it is at least a very
+early one, and true to the ideal which had originated with St.
+Antony.&nbsp; He is brought up in a monastery at Culross: he is
+tempted by the devil in a cave in the parish of Dysart (the
+Desert), in Fifeshire, which still retains that name.&nbsp; The
+d&aelig;mon, fleeing from him, enters an unfortunate man, who is
+forthwith plagued with a wolfish appetite.&nbsp; St. Serf cures
+him by putting his thumb into his mouth.&nbsp; A man is accused
+of stealing and eating a lamb, and denies the theft.&nbsp; St.
+Serf, however, makes the lamb bleat in the robber&rsquo;s
+stomach, and so substantiates the charge beyond all doubt.&nbsp;
+He works other wonders; among them the slaying of a great dragon
+in the place called &ldquo;Dunyne;&rdquo; sails for the Orkneys,
+and converts the people there; and vanishes thenceforth into the
+dream-land from which he sprung.</p>
+<p>Two great disciples he has, St. Ternan and St. Kentigern;
+mystery and miracle hang round the boyhood of the latter.&nbsp;
+His father is unknown.&nbsp; His mother is condemned to be cast
+from the rock of &ldquo;Dunpelder,&rdquo; but is saved and
+absolved by a miracle.&nbsp; Before the eyes of the astonished
+Picts, she floats gently down through the air, and arrives at the
+cliff foot unhurt.&nbsp; St. Kentigern is thenceforth believed to
+be virgin-born, and is reverenced as a miraculous being from his
+infancy.&nbsp; He goes to school to the mythic St. Serf, who
+calls him Mungo, or the Beloved; which name he bears in Glasgow
+until this day.&nbsp; His fellow-scholars envy his virtue and
+learning, and try to ruin him with their master.&nbsp; St. Serf
+has a pet robin, which is wont to sit and sing upon his
+shoulder.&nbsp; The boys pull off its head, and lay the blame
+upon Kentigern.&nbsp; The saint comes in wrathful, tawse in hand,
+and Kentigern is for the moment in serious danger; but, equal to
+the occasion then as afterwards, he puts the robin&rsquo;s head
+on again, sets it singing, and amply vindicates his
+innocence.&nbsp; To this day the robin figures in the arms of the
+good city of Glasgow, with the tree which St. Kentigern, when his
+enemies had put out his fire, brought in from the frozen forest
+and lighted with his breath, and the salmon in whose mouth a ring
+which had been cast into the Clyde had been found again by St.
+Kentigern&rsquo;s prophetic spirit.</p>
+<p>The envy of his fellow-scholars, however, is too much for St.
+Kentigern&rsquo;s peace of mind.&nbsp; He wanders away to the
+spot where Glasgow city now stands, lives in a rock hollowed out
+into a tomb, is ordained by an Irish bishop (according to a
+Celtic custom, of which antiquaries have written learnedly and
+dubiously likewise), and has ecclesiastical authority over all
+the Picts from the Frith of Forth to the Roman Wall.&nbsp; But
+all these stories, as I said before, are tangled as a dream; for
+the twelfth century monks, in their loyal devotion to the see of
+Rome, are apt to introduce again and again ecclesiastical customs
+which belonged to their own time, and try to represent these
+prim&aelig;val saints as regular and well-disciplined servants of
+the Pope.</p>
+<p>It may be remarked that St. Serf is said to have come into a
+&ldquo;dysart&rdquo; or desert.&nbsp; So did many monks of the
+school of St. Columba and his disciples, who wished for a severer
+and a more meditative life than could be found in the busy
+society of a convent.&nbsp; &ldquo;There was a
+&lsquo;disert,&rsquo;&rdquo; says Dr. Reeves, &ldquo;for such men
+to retire to, besides the monastery of Derry, and another at Iona
+itself, situate near the shore in the low ground, north of the
+Cathedral, as may be inferred from Portandisiart, the name of a
+little bay in this situation.&rdquo;&nbsp; A similar
+&ldquo;disert&rdquo; or collection of hermit cells was endowed at
+Cashel in 1101; and a &ldquo;disert columkill,&rdquo; with two
+townland mills and a vegetable garden, was endowed at Kells, at a
+somewhat earlier period, for the use of &ldquo;devout
+pilgrims,&rdquo; as those were called who left the society of men
+to worship God in solitude.</p>
+<p>The Venerable Bede speaks of as many as three personages,
+Saxons by their names, who in the Isle of Ireland led the
+&ldquo;Pilgrim&rdquo; or anchoritic life, to obtain a country in
+heaven; and tells of a Drycthelm of the monastery at Melrose, who
+went into a secret dwelling therein to give himself more utterly
+to prayer, and who used to stand for hours in the cold waters of
+the Tweed, as St. Godric did centuries afterwards in those of the
+Wear.&nbsp; Solitaries, &ldquo;recluses,&rdquo; are met with
+again and again in these old records, who more than once became
+Abbots of Iona itself.&nbsp; But there is no need to linger on
+over instances which are only quoted to show that some of the
+noblest spirits of the Celtic Church kept up wherever they could
+the hermit&rsquo;s ideal, the longing for solitude, for passive
+contemplation, for silence and perpetual prayer, which they had
+inherited from St. Antony and the Fathers of the Egyptian
+Desert.</p>
+<p>The same ideal was carried by them over the Border into
+England.&nbsp; Off its extreme northern coast, for instance,
+nearly half-way between Berwick and Bamborough Castle, lies, as
+travellers northward may have seen for themselves, the
+&ldquo;Holy Island,&rdquo; called in old times Lindisfarne.&nbsp;
+A monk&rsquo;s chapel on that island was the mother of all the
+churches between Tyne and Tweed, as well as of many between Tyne
+and Humber.&nbsp; The Northumbrians had been nominally converted,
+according to Bede, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 627, under
+their King Edwin, by Paulinus, one of the Roman monks who had
+followed in the steps of St. Augustine, the apostle of
+Kent.&nbsp; Evil times had fallen on them.&nbsp; Penda, at the
+head of the idolatrous Mercians (the people of Mid-England), and
+Ceadwalla, at the head of the Western Britons, had ravaged the
+country north of Tweed with savage cruelty, slain King Edwin, at
+Hatfield, near Doncaster, and exterminated Christianity; while
+Paulinus had fled to Kent, and become Bishop of Rochester.&nbsp;
+The invaders had been driven out, seemingly by Oswald, who knew
+enough of Christianity to set up, ere he engaged the enemy, a
+cross of wood on the &ldquo;Heavenfield,&rdquo; near
+Hexham.&nbsp; That cross stood till the time of Bede, some 150
+years after; and had become, like Moses&rsquo; brazen serpent, an
+object of veneration.&nbsp; For if chips cut off from it were put
+into water, that water cured men or cattle of their diseases.</p>
+<p>Oswald, believing that it was through the mercy of him whom
+that cross symbolized he had conquered the Mercians and the
+Britons, would needs reconvert his people to the true
+faith.&nbsp; He had been in exile during Edwin&rsquo;s lifetime
+among the Scots, and had learned from them something of
+Christianity.&nbsp; So out of Iona a monk was sent to him, Aidan
+by name, to be a bishop over the Northumbrians; and he settled
+himself upon the isle of Lindisfarne, and began to convert it
+into another Iona.&nbsp; &ldquo;A man he was,&rdquo; says Bede,
+&ldquo;of singular sweetness, piety, and moderation; zealous in
+the cause of God, though not altogether according to knowledge,
+for he was wont to keep Easter after the fashion of his
+country;&rdquo; <i>i.e.</i> of the Picts and Northern Scots. . .
+. &ldquo;From that time forth many Scots came daily into Britain,
+and with great devotion preached the word to these provinces of
+the English over whom King Oswald reigned. . . .&nbsp; Churches
+were built, money and lands were given of the king&rsquo;s bounty
+to build monasteries; the English, great and small, were by their
+Scottish masters instructed in the rules and observance of
+regular discipline; for most of those who came to preach were
+monks.&rdquo; <a name="citation290"></a><a href="#footnote290"
+class="citation">[290]</a></p>
+<p>So says the Venerable Bede, the monk of Jarrow, and the father
+(as he has been well called) of English history.&nbsp; He tells
+us too, how Aidan, wishing, it may be supposed, for greater
+solitude, went away and lived on the rocky isle of Farne, some
+two miles out at sea, off Bamborough Castle; and how, when he saw
+Penda and his Mercians, in a second invasion of Northumbria,
+trying to burn down the walls of Bamborough&mdash;which were
+probably mere stockades of timber&mdash;he cried to God, from off
+his rock, to &ldquo;behold the mischief:&rdquo; whereon the wind
+changed suddenly, and blew the flames back on the besiegers,
+discomfiting them, and saving the town.</p>
+<p>Bede tells us, too, how Aidan wandered, preaching from place
+to place, haunting King Oswald&rsquo;s court, but owning nothing
+of his own save his church, and a few fields about it; and how,
+when death came upon him, they set up a tent for him close by the
+wall at the west end of the church, so that it befell that he
+gave up the ghost leaning against a post, which stood outside to
+strengthen the wall.</p>
+<p>A few years after, Penda came again and burned the village,
+with the church; and yet neither could that fire, nor one which
+happened soon after, destroy that post.&nbsp; Wherefore the post
+was put inside the church, as a holy thing, and chips of it, like
+those of the Cross of Heaven Field, healed many folk of their
+distempers.</p>
+<p>. . . A tale at which we may look in two different
+humours.&nbsp; We may pass it by with a sneer, and a hypothesis
+(which will be probably true) that the post was of old
+heart-of-oak, which is burnt with extreme difficulty; or we may
+pause a moment in reverence before the noble figure of the good
+old man, ending a life of unselfish toil without a roof beneath
+which to lay his head; penniless and comfortless in this world:
+but sure of his reward in the world to come.</p>
+<p>A few years after Aidan&rsquo;s death another hermit betook
+him to the rocks of Farne, who rose to far higher glory; who
+became, in fact, the tutelar saint of the fierce Northern men;
+who was to them, up to the time even of the Tudor monarchs, what
+Pallas Athene was to Athens, or Diana to the Ephesians.&nbsp; St.
+Cuthbert&rsquo;s shrine, in Durham Cathedral (where his
+biographer Bede also lay in honour), was their rallying point,
+not merely for ecclesiastical jurisdiction or for miraculous
+cures, but for political movements.&nbsp; Above his shrine rose
+the noble pile of Durham.&nbsp; The bishop, who ruled in his
+name, was a Count Palatine, and an almost independent
+prince.&nbsp; His sacred banner went out to battle before the
+Northern levies, or drove back again and again the flames which
+consumed the wooden houses of Durham.&nbsp; His relics wrought
+innumerable miracles; and often he himself appeared with long
+countenance, ripened by abstinence, his head sprinkled with grey
+hairs, his casule of cloth of gold, his mitre of glittering
+crystal, his face brighter than the sun, his eyes mild as the
+stars of heaven, the gems upon his hand and robes rattling
+against his pastoral staff beset with pearls. <a
+name="citation292"></a><a href="#footnote292"
+class="citation">[292]</a>&nbsp; Thus glorious the demigod of the
+Northern men appeared to his votaries, and steered with his
+pastoral staff, as with a rudder, the sinking ship in safety to
+Lindisfarne; received from the hands of St. Brendan, as from a
+saint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman, laden with
+fetters, whom he had delivered out of the dungeon of Brancepeth,
+and, smiting asunder the massive Norman walls, led him into the
+forest, and bade him flee to sanctuary in Durham, and be safe; or
+visited the little timber vine-clad chapel of Lixtune, on the
+Cheshire shore, to heal the sick who watched all night before his
+altar, or to forgive the lad who had robbed the nest which his
+sacred raven had built upon the roof, and, falling with the
+decayed timber, had broken his bones, and maimed his sacrilegious
+hand.</p>
+<p>Originally, says Bede, a monk at Melrose, and afterward abbot
+of the same place, he used to wander weeks together out of his
+monastery, seemingly into Ettrick and the Lammermuirs, and preach
+in such villages as &ldquo;being seated high up among craggy,
+uncouth mountains, were frightful to others even to look at, and
+whose poverty and barbarity rendered them inaccessible to other
+teachers.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;So skilful an orator was he, so
+fond of enforcing his subject, and such a brightness appeared in
+his angelic face, that no man presumed to conceal from him the
+most hidden secrets of their hearts, but all openly confessed
+what they had done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he laboured for many years, till his old abbot Eata, who
+had become bishop and abbot at Lindisfarne, sent for him thither,
+and made him prior of the monks for several years.&nbsp; But at
+last he longed, like so many before him, for solitude.&nbsp; He
+considered (so he said afterwards to the brethren) that the life
+of the disciplined and obedient monk was higher than that of the
+lonely and independent hermit: but yet he longed to be alone;
+longed, it may be, to recall at least upon some sea-girt rock
+thoughts which had come to him in those long wanderings on the
+heather moors, with no sound to distract him save the hum of the
+bee and the wail of the curlew; and so he went away to that same
+rock of Farne, where Aidan had taken refuge some ten or fifteen
+years before, and there, with the deep sea rolling at his feet
+and the gulls wailing about his head, he built himself one of
+those &ldquo;Picts&rsquo; Houses,&rdquo; the walls of which
+remain still in many parts of Scotland&mdash;a circular hut of
+turf and rough stone&mdash;and dug out the interior to a depth of
+some feet, and thatched it with sticks and grass; and made, it
+seems, two rooms within; one for an oratory, one for a
+dwelling-place: and so lived alone, and worshipped God.&nbsp; He
+grew his scanty crops of barley on the rock (men said, of course,
+by miracle): he had tried wheat, but, as was to be expected, it
+failed.&nbsp; He found (men said, of course, by miracle) a spring
+upon the rock.&nbsp; Now and then brethren came to visit
+him.&nbsp; And what did man need more, save a clear conscience
+and the presence of his Creator?&nbsp; Certainly not
+Cuthbert.&nbsp; When he asked the brethren to bring him a beam
+that he might prop up his cabin where the sea had eaten out the
+floor, and when they forgot the commission, the sea itself washed
+one up in the very cove where it was needed: when the choughs
+from the cliff stole his barley and the straw from the roof of
+his little hospice, he had only to reprove them, and they never
+offended again; on one occasion, indeed, they atoned for their
+offence by bringing him a lump of suet, wherewith he greased his
+shoes for many a day.&nbsp; We are not bound to believe this
+story; it is one of many which hang about the memory of St.
+Cuthbert, and which have sprung out of that love of the wild
+birds which may have grown up in the good man during his long
+wanderings through woods and over moors.&nbsp; He bequeathed (so
+it was believed) as a sacred legacy to the wild-fowl of the Farne
+islands, &ldquo;St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace;&rdquo; above all to
+the eider-ducks, which swarmed there in his days, but are now,
+alas! growing rarer and rarer, from the intrusion of vulgar
+sportsmen who never heard St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s name, or learnt
+from him to spare God&rsquo;s creatures when they need them
+not.&nbsp; On Farne, in Reginald&rsquo;s time, they bred under
+your very bed, got out of your way if you made a sign to them,
+let you take up them or their young ones, and nestled silently in
+your bosom, and croaked joyfully with fluttering wings when
+stroked.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not to nature, but to grace; not to
+hereditary tendency, but only to the piety and compassion of the
+blessed St. Cuthbert,&rdquo; says Reginald, &ldquo;is so great a
+miracle to be ascribed.&nbsp; For the Lord who made all things in
+heaven and earth has subjected them to the nod of his saints, and
+prostrated them under the feet of obedience.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Insufficient induction (the cause of endless mistakes, and
+therefore of endless follies and crimes) kept Reginald unaware of
+the now notorious fact that the female eider, during the breeding
+season, is just as tame, allowing for a little exaggeration, as
+St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s own ducks are, while the male eider is just
+as wild and wary as any other sea-bird: a mistake altogether
+excusable in one who had probably never seen or heard of
+eider-ducks in any other spot.&nbsp; It may be, nevertheless,
+that St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s special affection for the eider may
+have been called out by another strange and well-known fact about
+them of which Reginald oddly enough takes no note&mdash;namely,
+that they line their nests with down plucked from their own
+bosom; thus realizing the fable which has made the pelican for so
+many centuries the type of the Church.&nbsp; It is a question,
+indeed, whether the pelican, which is always represented in
+medi&aelig;val paintings and sculptures with a short bill,
+instead of the enormous bill and pouch which is the especial mark
+of the &ldquo;Onocrotalus&rdquo; of the ancients, now miscalled
+pelican, be not actually the eider-duck itself, confounded with
+the true <i>pelecanus</i>, which was the medi&aelig;val, and is
+still the scientific, name of the cormorant.&nbsp; Be that as it
+may, ill befell any one who dare touch one of St.
+Cuthbert&rsquo;s birds, as was proved in the case of Liveing,
+servant to &AElig;lric, who was a hermit in Farne after the time
+of St. Cuthbert.&nbsp; For he, tired it may be of barley and
+dried fish, killed and ate an eider-duck in his master&rsquo;s
+absence, scattering the bones and feathers over the cliffs.&nbsp;
+But when the hermit came back, what should he find but those same
+bones and feathers rolled into a lump and laid inside the door of
+the little chapel; the very sea, says Reginald, not having dared
+to swallow them up.&nbsp; Whereby the hapless Liveing being
+betrayed, was soundly flogged, and put on bread and water for
+many a day; the which story Liveing himself told to Reginald.</p>
+<p>Not only the eider, but all birds in Farne, were protected by
+St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace.&nbsp; Bartholomew, who was a famous
+hermit there in after years, had a tame bird, says the
+chronicler, who ate from his hand, and hopped about the table
+among him and his guests, till some thought it a miracle; and
+some, finding, no doubt, the rocks of Farne weary enough, derived
+continual amusement from the bird.&nbsp; But when he one day went
+off to another island, and left his bird to keep the house, a
+hawk came in and ate it up.&nbsp; Cuthbert, who could not save
+the bird, at least could punish the murderer.&nbsp; The hawk flew
+round and round the island, imprisoned, so it was thought, by
+some mysterious power, till, terrified and worn out, it flew into
+the chapel, and lay, cowering and half dead, in a corner by the
+altar.&nbsp; Bartholomew came back, found his bird&rsquo;s
+feathers, and the tired hawk.&nbsp; But even the hawk must profit
+by St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace.&nbsp; He took it up, carried it to
+the harbour, and there bade it depart in St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s
+name, whereon it flew off free, and was no more seen.&nbsp; Such
+tales as these may be explained, even to their most minute
+details, by simply natural causes: and yet, in this age of wanton
+destruction of wild birds, one is tempted at moments to wish for
+the return of some such graceful and humane superstition which
+could keep down, at least in the name of mercy and humanity, the
+needless cruelty of man.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; After St. Cuthbert, says Bede, had served
+God in the solitude of Farne for many years, the mound which
+encompassed his habitation being so high that he could see
+nothing from thence but heaven, to which he so ardently aspired,
+he was compelled by tears and entreaties&mdash;King Egfrid
+himself coming to the island, with bishops and religious and
+great men&mdash;to become himself bishop in Holy Island.&nbsp;
+There, as elsewhere, he did his duty.&nbsp; But after two years
+he went again to Farne, knowing that his end was near.&nbsp; For
+when, in his episcopal labours, he had gone across to
+Lugubalia&mdash;old Penrith, in Cumberland&mdash;there came
+across to him a holy hermit, Herebert by name, who dwelt upon an
+island in Derwentwater, and talked with him a long while on
+heavenly things; and Cuthbert bade him ask him then all the
+questions which he wished to have resolved, for they should see
+each other no more in this world.&nbsp; Herebert, who seems to
+have been one of his old friends, fell at Cuthbert&rsquo;s feet,
+and bade him remember that whenever he had done wrong he had
+submitted himself to him utterly, and always tried to live
+according to his rules; and all he wished for now was that, as
+they had served God together upon earth, they might depart for
+ever to see his bliss in heaven: the which befell; for a few
+months afterwards, that is, on the 20th of March, their souls
+quitted their mortal bodies on the same day, and they were
+re-united in spirit.</p>
+<p>St. Cuthbert wished to have been buried on his rock in Farne:
+but the brethren had persuaded him to allow his corpse to be
+removed to Holy Island.&nbsp; He begged them, said Bede, should
+they be forced to leave that place, to carry his bones along with
+them; and so they were forced to do at last; for in the year 875;
+whilst the Danes were struggling with Alfred in Wessex, an army
+of them, with Halfdene at their head, went up into Northumbria,
+burning towns, destroying churches, tossing children on their
+pike-points, and committing all those horrors which made the
+Norsemen terrible and infamous for so many years.&nbsp; Then the
+monks fled from the monastery, bearing the shrine of St.
+Cuthbert, and all their treasures, and followed by their
+retainers, men, women, and children, and their sheep and oxen:
+and behold! the hour of their flight was that of an exceedingly
+high spring tide.&nbsp; The Danes were landing from their ships
+in their rear; in their front was some two miles of sea.&nbsp;
+Escape seemed hopeless; when, says the legend, the water
+retreated before the holy relics as they advanced; and became, as
+to the children of Israel of old, a wall on their right hand and
+on their left; and so St. Cuthbert came safe to shore, and
+wandered in the woods, borne upon his servants&rsquo; shoulders,
+and dwelling in tents for seven years, and found rest at last in
+Durham, till at the Reformation his shrine, and that of the
+Venerable Bede, were robbed of their gold and jewels; and no
+trace of them (as far as I know) is left, save that huge slab,
+whereon is written the monkish rhyme:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>Hic jacet in foss&acirc;<br />
+Bed&aelig; Venerabilis ossa. <a name="citation299"></a><a
+href="#footnote299" class="citation">[299]</a></p>
+</blockquote>
+<h2><a name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 300</span>ST.
+GUTHLAC</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">Hermits</span> dwelling in the wilderness,
+as far as I am aware, were to be seen only in the northern and
+western parts of the island, where not only did the forest afford
+concealment, but the crags and caves shelter.&nbsp; The southern
+and eastern English seldom possess the vivid imagination of the
+Briton, the Northumbrian, and the Scot; while the rich lowlands
+of central, southern, and eastern England, well peopled and well
+tilled, offered few spots lonely enough for the hermit&rsquo;s
+cell.</p>
+<p>One district only was desolate enough to attract those who
+wished to be free from the world,&mdash;namely, the great fens
+north of Cambridge; and there, accordingly, as early as the
+seventh century, hermits settled in morasses now so utterly
+transformed that it is difficult to restore in one&rsquo;s
+imagination the original scenery.</p>
+<p>The fens in the seventh century were probably very like the
+forests at the mouth of the Mississippi, or the swampy shores of
+the Carolinas.&nbsp; Their vast plain is now, in summer, one sea
+of golden corn; in winter, a black dreary fallow, cut into
+squares by stagnant dykes, and broken only by unsightly pumping
+mills and doleful lines of poplar-trees.&nbsp; Of old it was a
+labyrinth of black wandering streams; broad lagoons; morasses
+submerged every spring-tide; vast beds of reed and sedge and
+fern; vast copses of willow, alder, and grey poplar, rooted in
+the floating peat, which was swallowing up slowly, all-devouring,
+yet all-preserving, the forests of fir and oak, ash and poplar,
+hazel and yew, which had once grown on that low, rank soil,
+sinking slowly (so geologists assure us) beneath the sea from age
+to age.&nbsp; Trees, torn down by flood and storm, floated and
+lodged in rafts, damming the waters back upon the land.&nbsp;
+Streams, bewildered in the flats, changed their channels,
+mingling silt and sand with the peat moss.&nbsp; Nature, left to
+herself, ran into wild riot and chaos more and more, till the
+whole fen became one &ldquo;Dismal Swamp,&rdquo; in which, at the
+time of the Norman Conquest, the &ldquo;Last of the
+English,&rdquo; like Dred in Mrs. Stowe&rsquo;s tale, took refuge
+from their tyrants, and lived, like him, a free and joyous life
+awhile.</p>
+<p>For there are islands in the sea which have escaped the
+destroying deluge of peat-moss,&mdash;outcrops of firm and
+fertile land, which in the early Middle Age were so many natural
+parks, covered with richest grass and stateliest trees, swarming
+with deer and roe, goat and boar, as the streams around swarmed
+with otter and beaver, and with fowl of every feather, and fish
+of every scale.</p>
+<p>Beautiful after their kind were those far isles in the eyes of
+the monks who were the first settlers in the wilderness.&nbsp;
+The author of the &ldquo;History of Ramsey&rdquo; grows
+enthusiastic, and somewhat bombastic also, as he describes the
+lovely isle, which got its name from the solitary ram who had
+wandered thither, either in extreme drought or over the winter
+ice, and, never able to return, was found feeding among the wild
+deer, fat beyond the wont of rams.&nbsp; He tells of the stately
+ashes, most of them cut in his time, to furnish mighty beams for
+the church roof; of the rich pastures painted with all gay
+flowers in spring; of the &ldquo;green crown&rdquo; of reed and
+alder which encircled the isle; of the fair wide mere (now
+drained) with its &ldquo;sandy beach&rdquo; along the forest
+side; &ldquo;a delight,&rdquo; he says, &ldquo;to all who look
+thereon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In like humour William of Malmesbury, writing in the first
+half of the twelfth century, speaks of Thorney Abbey and its
+isle.&nbsp; &ldquo;It represents,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;a very
+paradise; for that in pleasure and delight it resembles heaven
+itself.&nbsp; These marshes abound in trees, whose length,
+without a knot, doth emulate the stars.&nbsp; The plain there is
+as level as the sea, alluring the eye with its green grass, and
+so smooth that there is nought to trip the foot of him who runs
+through it.&nbsp; Neither is there any waste place; for in some
+parts are apples, in others vines, which are either spread on the
+ground, or raised on poles.&nbsp; A mutual strife there is
+between Nature and Art; so that what one produces not the other
+supplies.&nbsp; What shall I say of those fair buildings, which
+&rsquo;tis so wonderful to see the ground among those fens
+upbear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So wrote William of Malmesbury, after the industry and wisdom
+of the monks, for more than four centuries, had been at work to
+civilize and cultivate the wilderness.&nbsp; Yet even then there
+was another side to the picture; and Thorney, Ramsey, or Crowland
+would have seemed, for nine months every year, sad places enough
+to us comfortable folk of the nineteenth century.&nbsp; But men
+lived hard in those days, even the most high-born and luxurious
+nobles and ladies; under dark skies, in houses which we should
+think, from darkness, draught, and want of space, unfit for
+felons&rsquo; cells.&nbsp; Hardly they lived; and easily were
+they pleased; and thanked God for the least gleam of sunshine,
+the least patch of green, after the terrible and long winters of
+the Middle Ages.&nbsp; And ugly enough those winters must have
+been, what with snow and darkness, flood and ice, ague and
+rheumatism; while through the dreary winter&rsquo;s night the
+whistle of the wind and the wild cries of the waterfowl were
+translated into the howls of witches and d&aelig;mons; and (as in
+St. Guthlac&rsquo;s case), the delirious fancies of marsh fever
+made those fiends take hideous shapes before the inner eye, and
+act fantastic horrors round the fen-man&rsquo;s bed of sedge.</p>
+<p>Concerning this St. Guthlac full details remain, both in Latin
+and Anglo-Saxon; the author of the original document professing
+to be one Felix, a monk of Ramsey near by, who wrote possibly as
+early as the eighth century. <a name="citation303"></a><a
+href="#footnote303" class="citation">[303]</a></p>
+<p>There we may read how the young warrior-noble Guthlac
+(&ldquo;The Battle-Play,&rdquo; the &ldquo;Sport of War&rdquo;),
+tired of slaying and sinning, bethought him to fulfil the
+prodigies seen at his birth; how he wandered into the fen, where
+one Tatwin (who after became a saint likewise) took him in his
+canoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost unknown, buried in
+reeds and alders, and how he found among the trees nought but an
+old &ldquo;law,&rdquo; as the Scots still call a mound, which men
+of old had broken into seeking for treasure, and a little pond;
+and how he built himself a hermit&rsquo;s cell thereon, and saw
+visions and wrought miracles; and how men came to him, as to a
+fakir or shaman of the East; notably one Beccel, who acted as his
+servant; and how as Beccel was shaving the saint one day there
+fell on him a great temptation: Why should he not cut St.
+Guthlac&rsquo;s throat, and instal himself in his cell, that he
+might have the honour and glory of sainthood?&nbsp; But St.
+Guthlac perceived the inward temptation (which is told with the
+na&iuml;ve honesty of those half-savage times), and rebuked the
+offender into confession, and all went well to the end.</p>
+<p>There we may read, too, a detailed account of the Fauna now
+happily extinct in the fens; of the creatures who used to hale
+St. Guthlac out of his hut, drag him through the bogs, carry him
+aloft through frost and fire&mdash;&ldquo;Develen and luther
+gostes&rdquo;&mdash;such as tormented in like wise St. Botolph
+(from whom Botulfston = Boston, has its name), and who were
+supposed to haunt the meres and fens, and to have an especial
+fondness for old heathen barrows with their fancied
+treasure-hoards: how they &ldquo;filled the house with their
+coming, and poured in on every side, from above, and from
+beneath, and everywhere.&nbsp; They were in countenance horrible,
+and they had great heads, and a long neck, and a lean visage;
+they were filthy and squalid in their beards, and they had rough
+ears, and crooked &lsquo;nebs,&rsquo; and fierce eyes, and foul
+mouths; and their teeth were like horses&rsquo; tusks; and their
+throats were filled with flame, and they were grating in their
+voice; they had crooked shanks, and knees big and great behind,
+and distorted toes, and cried hoarsely with their voices; and
+they came with immoderate noise and immense horror, that he
+thought that all between, heaven and earth resounded with their
+voices. . . .&nbsp; And they tugged and led him out of the cot,
+and led him to the swart fen, and threw and sunk him in the muddy
+waters.&nbsp; After that they brought him into the wild places of
+the wilderness, among the thick beds of brambles, that all his
+body was torn. . . .&nbsp; After that they took him and beat him
+with iron whips, and after that they brought him on their
+creaking wings between the cold regions of the air.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there are gentler and more human touches in that old
+legend.&nbsp; You may read in it how all the wild birds of the
+fen came to St. Guthlac, and he fed them after their kind; how
+the ravens tormented him, stealing letters, gloves, and what not,
+from his visitors; and then, seized with compunction at his
+reproofs, brought them back, or hanged them on the reeds; and
+how, as Wilfrid, a holy visitant, was sitting with him,
+discoursing of the contemplative life, two swallows came flying
+in, and lifted up their song, sitting now on the saint&rsquo;s
+hand, now on his shoulder, now on his knee; and how, when Wilfrid
+wondered thereat, Guthlac made answer, &ldquo;Know you not that
+he who hath led his life according to God&rsquo;s will, to him
+the wild beasts and the wild birds draw the more near?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After fifteen years of such a life, in fever, ague, and
+starvation, no wonder if St. Guthlac died.&nbsp; They buried him
+in a leaden coffin (a grand and expensive luxury in the seventh
+century) which had been sent to him during his life by a Saxon
+princess; and then, over his sacred and wonder-working corpse, as
+over that of a Buddhist saint, there arose a chapel, with a
+community of monks, companies of pilgrims who came to worship,
+sick who came to be healed; till at last, founded on great piles
+driven into the bog, arose the lofty wooden Abbey of Crowland; in
+&ldquo;sanctuary of the four rivers,&rdquo; with its dykes,
+parks, vineyards, orchards, rich ploughlands, from which, in time
+of famine, the monks of Crowland fed all people of the
+neighbouring fens; with its tower with seven bells, which had not
+their like in England; its twelve altars rich with the gifts of
+Danish vikings and princes, and even with twelve white
+bear-skins, the gift of Canute&rsquo;s self; while all around
+were the cottages of the corrodiers, or folk who, for a corrody,
+or life pittance from the abbey, had given away their lands, to
+the wrong and detriment of their heirs.</p>
+<p>But within those four rivers, at least, were neither tyranny
+nor slavery.&nbsp; Those who took refuge in St. Guthlac&rsquo;s
+place from cruel lords must keep his peace toward each other, and
+earn their living like honest men, safe while they so did: for
+between those four rivers St. Guthlac and his abbot were the only
+lords; and neither summoner, nor sheriff of the king, nor armed
+force of knight or earl, could enter&mdash;&ldquo;the inheritance
+of the Lord, the soil of St. Mary and St. Bartholomew, the most
+holy sanctuary of St. Guthlac and his monks; the minister free
+from worldly servitude; the special almshouse of most illustrious
+kings; the sole refuge of any one in worldly tribulation; the
+perpetual abode of the saints; the possession of religious men,
+specially set apart by the common council of the realm; by reason
+of the frequent miracles of the holy confessor St. Guthlac, an
+ever-fruitful mother of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi; and,
+by reason of the privileges granted by the kings, a city of grace
+and safety to all who repent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Does not all this sound like a voice from another
+planet?&nbsp; It is all gone; and it was good and right that it
+should go when it had done its work, and that the civilization of
+the fen should be taken up and carried out by men like the good
+knight, Richard of Rulos, who, two generations after the
+Conquest, marrying Hereward&rsquo;s grand-daughter, and becoming
+Lord of Deeping (the deep meadow), thought that he could do the
+same work from the hall of Bourne as the monks did from their
+cloisters; got permission from the Crowland monks, for twenty
+marks of silver, to drain as much as he could of the common
+marshes; and then shut out the Welland by strong dykes, built
+cottages, marked out gardens, and tilled fields, till &ldquo;out
+of slough and bogs accursed he made a garden of
+pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yet one lasting work those monks of Crowland seem to have
+done, besides those firm dykes and rich corn-lands of the
+Porsand, which endure unto this day.&nbsp; For within two
+generations of the Norman conquest, while the old wooden abbey,
+destroyed by fire, was being replaced by that noble pile of stone
+whose ruins are still standing, the French abbot of Crowland (so
+runs the legend) sent French monks to open a school under the new
+French donjon, in the little Roman town of Grante-brigge;
+whereby&mdash;so does all earnest work, however mistaken, grow
+and spread in this world, infinitely and for ever&mdash;St.
+Guthlac, by his canoe-voyage into Crowland Island, became the
+spiritual father of the University of Cambridge in the old world;
+and therefore of her noble daughter, the University of Cambridge,
+in the new world which fen-men sailing from Boston deeps
+colonized and Christianized 800 years after St. Guthlac&rsquo;s
+death.</p>
+<h2><a name="page309"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 309</span>ST.
+GODRIC OF FINCHALE</h2>
+<p>A <span class="smcap">personage</span> quite as interesting,
+though not as famous, as Cuthbert or Guthlac, is St. Godric; the
+hermit around whose cell rose the Priory of Finchale.&nbsp; In a
+loop of the river Wear, near Durham, there settled in the days of
+Bishop Flambard, between 1099 and 1128, a man whose parentage and
+history was for many years unknown to the good folks of the
+neighbourhood.&nbsp; He had come, it seems, from a hermitage in
+Eskdale, in the parish of Whitby, whence he had been driven by
+the Percys, lords of the soil.&nbsp; He had gone to Durham,
+become the doorkeeper of St. Giles&rsquo;s church, and gradually
+learnt by heart (he was no scholar) the whole Psalter.&nbsp; Then
+he had gone to St. Mary&rsquo;s church, where (as was the fashion
+of the times) there was a children&rsquo;s school; and, listening
+to the little ones at their lessons, picked up such hymns and
+prayers as he thought would suffice his spiritual wants.&nbsp;
+And then, by leave of the bishop, he had gone away into the
+woods, and devoted himself to the solitary life in
+Finchale.&nbsp; Buried in the woods and crags of the &ldquo;Royal
+Park,&rdquo; as it was then called, which swarmed with every kind
+of game, there was a little flat meadow, rough with sweet-gale
+and bramble and willow, beside a teeming salmon-pool.&nbsp; Great
+wolves haunted the woods; but Godric cared nought for them; and
+the shingles swarmed with snakes,&mdash;probably only the
+harmless collared snakes of wet meadows, but reputed, as all
+snakes are by the vulgar, venomous: but he did not object to
+become &ldquo;the companion of serpents and poisonous
+asps.&rdquo;&nbsp; He handled them, caressed them, let them lie
+by the fire in swarms on winter nights, in the little cave which
+he had hollowed in the ground and thatched with turf.&nbsp; Men
+told soon how the snakes obeyed him; how two especially huge ones
+used to lie twined about his legs; till after many years, annoyed
+by their importunity, he turned them all gently out of doors,
+with solemn adjurations never to return, and they, of course,
+obeyed.</p>
+<p>His austerities knew no bounds.&nbsp; He lived on roots and
+berries, flowers and leaves; and when the good folk found him
+out, and put gifts of food near his cell, he carried them up to
+the crags above, and, offering them solemnly up to the God who
+feeds the ravens when they call on him, left them there for the
+wild birds.&nbsp; He watched, fasted, and scourged himself, and
+wore always a hair shirt and an iron cuirass.&nbsp; He sat, night
+after night, even in mid-winter, in the cold Wear, the waters of
+which had hollowed out a rock near by into a natural bath, and
+afterwards in a barrel sunk in the floor of a little chapel of
+wattle, which he built and dedicated to the blessed Virgin
+Mary.&nbsp; He tilled a scrap of ground, and ate the grain from
+it, mingled with ashes.&nbsp; He kept his food till it was
+decayed before he tasted it; and led a life the records of which
+fill the reader with astonishment, not only at the man&rsquo;s
+iron strength of will, but at the iron strength of the
+constitution which could support such hardships, in such a
+climate, for a single year.</p>
+<p>A strong and healthy man must Godric have been, to judge from
+the accounts (there are two, both written by eye-witnesses) of
+his personal appearance&mdash;a man of great breadth of chest and
+strength of arm; black-haired, hook-nosed, deep-browed, with
+flashing grey eyes; altogether a personable and able man, who
+might have done much work and made his way in many lands.&nbsp;
+But what his former life had been he would not tell.&nbsp;
+Mother-wit he had in plenty, and showed insight into men and
+things which the monks of Durham were ready enough to call the
+spirit of prophecy.&nbsp; After awhile it was whispered that he
+wrought miraculous cures: that even a bit of the bread which he
+was wont to eat had healed a sick woman; that he fought with
+d&aelig;mons in visible shape; that he had seen (just as one of
+the old Egyptian hermits had seen) a little black boy running
+about between two monks who had quarrelled and come to hard blows
+and bleeding faces because one of them had made mistakes in the
+evening service: and, in short, there were attributed to him,
+during his lifetime, and by those who knew him well, a host of
+wonders which would be startling and important were they not
+exactly the same as those which appear in the life of every
+hermit since St. Antony.&nbsp; It is impossible to read the pages
+of Reginald of Durham (for he, the biographer of St. Cuthbert, is
+also the biographer of St. Godric) without feeling how difficult
+it is to obtain anything like the truth, even from eye-witnesses,
+if only men are (as they were in those days) in a state of
+religious excitement, at a period of spiritual revivals.&nbsp;
+The ignorant populace were ready to believe, and to report,
+anything of the Fakeer of Finchale.&nbsp; The monks of Durham
+were glad enough to have a wonder-working man belonging to them;
+for Ralph Flambard, in honour of Godric, had made over to them
+the hermitage of Finchale, with its fields and fisheries.&nbsp;
+The lad who, in after years, waited on the hermit, would have
+been ready enough to testify that his master saw d&aelig;mons and
+other spiritual beings; for he began to see them on his own
+account; <a name="citation312"></a><a href="#footnote312"
+class="citation">[312]</a> fell asleep in the forest coming home
+from Durham with some bottles; was led in a vision by St. John
+the Baptist to the top of a hill, and shown by him wonders
+unspeakable; saw, on another occasion, a d&aelig;mon in St.
+Godric&rsquo;s cell, hung all over with bottles of different
+liquors, offering them to the saint, who bade the lad drive him
+out of the little chapel, with a holy water sprinkle, but not go
+outside it himself.&nbsp; But the lad, in the fury of successful
+pursuit, overstepped the threshold; whereon the d&aelig;mon,
+turning in self-defence, threw a single drop of one of his
+liquors into the lad&rsquo;s mouth, and vanished with a laugh of
+scorn.&nbsp; The boy&rsquo;s face and throat swelled horribly for
+three days; and he took care thenceforth to obey the holy man
+more strictly: a story which I have repeated, like the one before
+it, only to show the real worth of the evidence on which Reginald
+has composed his book.&nbsp; Ailred, Abbot of Rievaux (for
+Reginald&rsquo;s book, though dedicated to Hugh Pudsey, his
+bishop, was prompted by Ailred) was capable (as his horrible
+story of the nun of Watton proves) of believing anything and
+everything which fell in with his fanatical, though pious and
+gentle, temper.</p>
+<p>And here a few words must be said to persons with whose
+difficulties I deeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions I
+differ utterly: those, namely, who say that if we reject the
+miracles of these saints&rsquo; lives, we must reject also the
+miracles of the New Testament.&nbsp; The answer is, as I believe,
+that the Apostles and Evangelists were sane men: men in their
+right minds, wise, calm; conducting themselves (save in the
+matter of committing sins) like other human beings, as befitted
+the disciples of that Son of Man who came eating and drinking,
+and was therefore called by the ascetics of his time a gluttonous
+man, and a wine-bibber: whereas these monks were not (as I have
+said elsewhere) in their right minds at all.</p>
+<p>This is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare
+the style of the Apostles and Evangelists with that of the
+monkish hagiologists.&nbsp; The calm, the simplicity, the
+brevity, the true grandeur of the former is sufficient evidence
+of their healthy-mindedness and their trustworthiness.&nbsp; The
+affectation, the self-consciousness, the bombast, the false
+grandeur of the latter is sufficient evidence that they are
+neither healthy-minded or trustworthy.&nbsp; Let students compare
+any passage of St. Luke or St. John, however surprising the
+miracle which it relates, with St. Jerome&rsquo;s life of Paul
+the First Hermit, or with that famous letter of his to
+Eustochium, which (although historically important) is unfit for
+the eyes of pure-minded readers and does not appear in this
+volume; and let them judge for themselves.&nbsp; Let them
+compare, again, the opening sentences of the Four Gospels, or of
+the Acts of the Apostles, with the words with which Reginald
+begins this life of St. Godric.&nbsp; &ldquo;By the touch of the
+Holy Spirit&rsquo;s finger the chord of the harmonic human heart
+resounds melodiously.&nbsp; For when the vein of the heart is
+touched by the grace of the Holy Spirit, forthwith, by the
+permirific sweetness of the harmony, an exceeding operation of
+sacred virtue is perceived more manifestly to spring forth.&nbsp;
+With this sweetness of spirit, Godric, the man of God, was filled
+from the very time of his boyhood, and grew famous for many
+admirable works of holy work (<i>sic</i>), because the harmonic
+teaching of the Holy Spirit fired the secrets of his very bosom
+with a wondrous contact of spiritual grace:&rdquo;&mdash;and let
+them say, after the comparison, if the difference between the two
+styles is not that which exists between one of God&rsquo;s
+lilies, fresh from the field, and a tawdry bunch of artificial
+flowers?</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; Godric himself took part in the history
+of his own miracles and life.&nbsp; It may be that he so
+overworked his brain that he believed that he was visited by St.
+Peter, and taught a hymn by the blessed Virgin Mary, and that he
+had taken part in a hundred other prodigies; but the Prologue to
+the Harleian manuscript (which the learned Editor, Mr. Stevenson,
+believes to be an early edition of Reginald&rsquo;s own
+composition) confesses that Reginald, compelled by Ailred of
+Rievaux, tried in vain for a long while to get the hermit&rsquo;s
+story from him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You wish to write my life?&rdquo; he said.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Know then that Godric&rsquo;s life is such as
+this:&mdash;Godric, at first a gross rustic, an unclean liver, an
+usurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a flatterer, a wanderer, pilfering
+and greedy; now a dead flea, a decayed dog, a vile worm, not a
+hermit, but a hypocrite; not a solitary, but a gad-about in mind;
+a devourer of alms, dainty over good things, greedy and
+negligent, lazy and snoring, ambitious and prodigal, one who is
+not worthy to serve others, and yet every day beats and scolds
+those who serve him: this, and worse than this, you may write of
+Godric.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Then he was silent as one
+indignant,&rdquo; says Reginald, &ldquo;and I went off in some
+confusion,&rdquo; and the grand old man was left to himself and
+to his God.</p>
+<p>The ecclesiastical Boswell dared not mention the subject again
+to his hero for several years, though he came after from Durham
+to visit him, and celebrate mass for him in his little
+chapel.&nbsp; After some years, however, he approached the matter
+again; and whether a pardonable vanity had crept over Godric, or
+whether he had begun at last to believe in his miracles, or
+whether the old man had that upon his mind of which he longed to
+unburthen himself, he began to answer questions, and Reginald
+delighted to listen and note down till he had finished, he says,
+that book of his life and miracles; <a name="citation316"></a><a
+href="#footnote316" class="citation">[316]</a> and after a while
+brought it to the saint, and falling on his knees, begged him to
+bless, in the name of God, and for the benefit of the faithful,
+the deeds of a certain religious man, who had suffered much for
+God in this life which he (Reginald) had composed
+accurately.&nbsp; The old man perceived that he himself was the
+subject, blessed the book with solemn words (what was written
+therein he does not seem to have read), and bade Reginald conceal
+it till his death, warning him that a time would come when he
+should suffer rough and bitter things on account of that book,
+from those who envied him.&nbsp; That prophecy, says Reginald,
+came to pass; but how, or why, he does not tell.&nbsp; There may
+have been, among those shrewd Northumbrian heads, even then,
+incredulous men, who used their common sense.</p>
+<p>But the story which Godric told was wild and beautiful; and
+though we must not depend too much on the accuracy of the old
+man&rsquo;s recollections, or on the honesty of Reginald&rsquo;s
+report, who would naturally omit all incidents which made against
+his hero&rsquo;s perfection, it is worth listening to, as a vivid
+sketch of the doings of a real human being, in that misty
+distance of the Early Middle Age.</p>
+<p>He was born, he said, at Walpole, in Norfolk, on the old Roman
+sea-bank, between the Wash and the deep Fens.&nbsp; His
+father&rsquo;s name was &AElig;ilward; his mother&rsquo;s,
+&AElig;dwen&mdash;&ldquo;the Keeper of Blessedness,&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;the Friend of Blessedness,&rdquo; as Reginald translates
+them&mdash;poor and pious folk; and, being a sharp boy, he did
+not take to field-work, but preferred wandering the fens as a
+pedlar, first round the villages, then, as he grew older, to
+castles and to towns, buying and selling&mdash;what, Reginald
+does not tell us: but we should be glad to know.</p>
+<p>One day he had a great deliverance, which Reginald thinks a
+miracle.&nbsp; Wandering along the great tide-flats near Spalding
+and the old Well-stream, in search of waifs, and strays, of wreck
+or eatables, he saw three porpoises stranded far out upon the
+banks.&nbsp; Two were alive, and the boy took pity on them (so he
+said) and let them be: but one was dead, and off it (in those
+days poor folks ate anything) he cut as much flesh and blubber as
+he could carry, and toiled back towards the high-tide mark.&nbsp;
+But whether he lost his way among the banks, or whether he
+delayed too long, the tide came in on him up to his knees, his
+waist, his chin, and at last, at times, over his head.&nbsp; The
+boy made the sign of the cross (as all men in danger did then)
+and struggled on valiantly a full mile through the sea, like a
+brave lad never loosening his hold of his precious porpoise-meat
+till he reached the shore at the very spot from which he had set
+out.</p>
+<p>As he grew, his pedlar journeys became longer.&nbsp; Repeating
+to himself, as he walked, the Creeds and the Lord&rsquo;s
+Prayer&mdash;his only lore&mdash;he walked for four years through
+Lindsey; then went to St. Andrew&rsquo;s in Scotland; after that,
+for the first time, to Rome.&nbsp; Then the love of a wandering
+sea life came on him, and he sailed with his wares round the east
+coasts; not merely as a pedlar, but as a sailor himself, he went
+to Denmark and to Flanders, buying and selling, till he owned (in
+what port we are not told, but probably in Lynn or Wisbeach) half
+one merchant ship and the quarter of another.&nbsp; A crafty
+steersman he was, a wise weather-prophet, a shipman stout in body
+and in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells us of 350
+years after:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;&mdash;A dagger hanging by a las hadde
+hee<br />
+About his nekke under his arm adoun.<br />
+The hote summer hadde made his hewe al broun.<br />
+And certainly he was a good felaw;<br />
+Full many a draught of wine he hadde draw,<br />
+From Burdeaux ward, while that the chapmen slepe,<br />
+Of nice conscience took he no kepe.<br />
+If that he fought, and hadde the higher hand,<br />
+By water he sent hem home to every land.<br />
+But of his craft to recken wel his tides,<br />
+His stremes and his strandes him besides,<br />
+His herberwe, his mone, and his lode manage,<br />
+There was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage.<br />
+Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:<br />
+With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.<br />
+He knew wel alle the havens, as they were,<br />
+From Gotland to the Cape de Finisterre,<br />
+And every creke in Bretagne and in Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>But gradually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought
+that there was something more to be done in the world than making
+money.&nbsp; He became a pious man after the fashion of those
+days.&nbsp; He worshipped at the famous shrine of St.
+Andrew.&nbsp; He worshipped, too, at St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s
+hermitage at Farne, and there, he said afterwards, he longed for
+the first time for the rest and solitude of the hermitage.&nbsp;
+He had been sixteen years a seaman now, with a seaman&rsquo;s
+temptations&mdash;it may be (as he told Reginald plainly) with
+some of a seaman&rsquo;s vices.&nbsp; He may have done things
+which lay heavy on his conscience.&nbsp; But it was getting time
+to think about his soul.&nbsp; He took the cross, and went off to
+Jerusalem, as many a man did then, under difficulties incredible,
+dying, too often, on the way.&nbsp; But Godric not only got safe
+thither, but went out of his way home by Spain to visit the
+sanctuary of St. James of Compostella, a see which Pope Calixtus
+II. had just raised to metropolitan dignity.</p>
+<p>Then he appears as steward to a rich man in the Fens, whose
+sons and young retainers, after the lawless fashion of those
+Anglo-Norman times, rode out into the country round to steal the
+peasants&rsquo; sheep and cattle, skin them on the spot, and pass
+them off to the master of the house as venison taken in
+hunting.&nbsp; They ate and drank, roystered and rioted, like
+most other young Normans; and vexed the staid soul of Godric,
+whose nose told him plainly enough, whenever he entered the
+kitchen, that what was roasting had never come off a deer.&nbsp;
+In vain he protested and warned them, getting only insults for
+his pains.&nbsp; At last he told his lord.&nbsp; The lord, as was
+to be expected, cared nought about the matter.&nbsp; Let the lads
+rob the English villains: for what other end had their
+grandfathers conquered the land?&nbsp; Godric punished himself,
+as he could not punish them, for the unwilling share which he had
+had in the wrong.&nbsp; It may be that he, too, had eaten of that
+stolen food.&nbsp; So away he went into France, and down the
+Rhone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of St. Giles, the patron
+saint of the wild deer; and then on to Rome a second time, and
+back to his poor parents in the Fens.</p>
+<p>And now follows a strange and beautiful story.&nbsp; All love
+of seafaring and merchandise had left the deep-hearted
+sailor.&nbsp; The heavenly and the eternal, the salvation of his
+sinful soul, had become all in all to him; and yet he could not
+rest in the little dreary village on the Roman bank.&nbsp; He
+would go on pilgrimage again.&nbsp; Then his mother would go
+likewise, and see St. Peter&rsquo;s church, and the Pope, and all
+the wonders of Rome, and have her share in all the spiritual
+blessings which were to be obtained (so men thought then) at Rome
+alone.&nbsp; So off they set on foot; and when they came to ford
+or ditch, Godric carried his mother on his back, until they came
+to London town.&nbsp; And there &AElig;dwen took off her shoes,
+and vowed out of devotion to the holy apostles Peter and Paul
+(who, so she thought, would be well pleased at such an act) to
+walk barefoot to Rome and barefoot back again.</p>
+<p>Now just as they went out of London, on the Dover Road, there
+met them in the way the loveliest maiden they had ever seen, and
+asked to bear them company in their pilgrimage.&nbsp; And when
+they agreed, she walked with them, sat with them, and talked with
+them with superhuman courtesy and grace; and when they turned
+into an inn, she ministered to them herself, and washed and
+kissed their feet, and then lay down with them to sleep, after
+the simple fashion of those days.&nbsp; But a holy awe of her, as
+of some saint and goddess, fell on the wild seafarer; and he
+never, so he used to aver, treated her for a moment save as a
+sister.&nbsp; Never did either ask the other who they were, and
+whence they came; and Godric reported (but this was long after
+the event) that no one of the company of pilgrims could see that
+fair maid, save he and his mother alone.&nbsp; So they came safe
+to Rome, and back to London town; and when they were at the place
+outside Southwark, where the fair maid had met them first, she
+asked permission to leave them, for she &ldquo;must go to her own
+land, where she had a tabernacle of rest, and dwelt in the house
+of her God.&rdquo;&nbsp; And then, bidding them bless God, who
+had brought them safe over the Alps, and across the sea, and all
+along that weary road, she went on her way, and they saw her no
+more.</p>
+<p>Then with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory,
+and it may be never leaving it, Godric took his mother safe home,
+and delivered her to his father, and bade them both after awhile
+farewell, and wandered across England to Penrith, and hung about
+the churches there, till some kinsmen of his recognised him, and
+gave him a psalter (he must have taught himself to read upon his
+travels), which he learnt by heart.&nbsp; Then, wandering ever in
+search of solitude, he went into the woods and found a cave, and
+passed his time therein in prayer, living on green herbs and wild
+honey, acorns and crabs; and when he went about to gather food,
+he fell down on his knees every few yards and said a prayer, and
+rose and went on.</p>
+<p>After awhile he wandered on again, until at Wolsingham, in
+Durham, he met with another holy hermit, who had been a monk at
+Durham, living in a cave in forests in which no man dare dwell,
+so did they swarm with packs of wolves; and there the two good
+men dwelt together till the old hermit fell sick, and was like to
+die.&nbsp; Godric nursed him, and sat by him, to watch for his
+last breath.&nbsp; For the same longing had come over him which
+came over Marguerite d&rsquo;Angoul&ecirc;me when she sat by the
+dying bed of her favourite maid of honour&mdash;to see if the
+spirit, when it left the body, were visible, and what kind of
+thing it was: whether, for instance, it was really like the
+little naked babe which is seen in medi&aelig;val illuminations
+flying out of the mouths of dying men.&nbsp; But, worn out with
+watching, Godric could not keep from sleep.&nbsp; All but
+despairing of his desire, he turned to the dying man, and spoke,
+says Reginald, some such words as these:&mdash;&ldquo;O spirit!
+who art diffused in that body in the likeness of God, and art
+still inside that breast, I adjure thee by the Highest, that thou
+leave not the prison of this thine habitation while I am overcome
+by sleep, and know not of it.&rdquo;&nbsp; And so he fell asleep:
+but when he woke, the old hermit lay motionless and
+breathless.&nbsp; Poor Godric wept, called on the dead man,
+called on God; his simple heart was set on seeing this one
+thing.&nbsp; And, behold, he was consoled in a wondrous
+fashion.&nbsp; For about the third hour of the day the breath
+returned.&nbsp; Godric hung over him, watching his lips.&nbsp;
+Three heavy sighs he drew, then a shudder, another sigh: <a
+name="citation323"></a><a href="#footnote323"
+class="citation">[323]</a> and then (so Godric was believed to
+have said in after years) he saw the spirit flit.</p>
+<p>What it was like, he did not like to say, for the most obvious
+reason&mdash;that he saw nothing, and was an honest man.&nbsp; A
+monk teased him much to impart to him this great discovery, which
+seemed to the simple untaught sailor a great spiritual mystery,
+and which was, like some other medi&aelig;val mysteries which
+were miscalled spiritual (transubstantiation above all),
+altogether material and gross imaginations.&nbsp; Godric answered
+wisely enough, that &ldquo;no man could perceive the substance of
+the spiritual soul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the monk insisting, and giving him no rest, he
+answered,&mdash;whether he wished to answer a fool according to
+his folly, or whether he tried to fancy (as men will who are
+somewhat vain&mdash;and if a saint was not vain, it was no fault
+of the monks who beset him) that he had really seen
+something.&nbsp; He told how it was like a dry, hot wind rolled
+into a sphere, and shining like the clearest glass, but that what
+it was really like no one could express.&nbsp; Thus much, at
+least, may be gathered from the involved bombast of Reginald.</p>
+<p>Another pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre did Godric make
+before he went to the hermitage in Eskdale, and settled finally
+at Finchale.&nbsp; And there about the hills of Jud&aelig;a he
+found, says Reginald, hermits dwelling in rock-caves, as they had
+dwelt since the time of St. Jerome.&nbsp; He washed himself, and
+his hair shirt and little cross, in the sacred waters of the
+Jordan, and returned, after incredible suffering, to become the
+saint of Finchale.</p>
+<p>His hermitage became, in due time, a stately priory, with its
+community of monks, who looked up to the memory of their holy
+father Godric as to that of a demigod.&nbsp; The place is all
+ruinate now; the memory of St. Godric gone; and not one in ten
+thousand, perhaps, who visit those crumbling walls beside the
+rushing Wear, has heard of the sailor-saint, and his mother, and
+that fair maid who tended them on their pilgrimage.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same
+hermitage in Eskdale, from which a Percy expelled St. Godric,
+possibly because he interfered with the prior claim of some
+<i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i> of their own; for they had, a few
+years before Godric&rsquo;s time, granted that hermitage to the
+monks of Whitby, who were not likely to allow a stranger to
+establish himself on their ground.</p>
+<p>About that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in
+the Middle Ages, in which the hermit appears as the protector of
+the hunted wild beast; a story, too, which was probably
+authentic, as the curious custom which was said to perpetuate its
+memory lasted at least till the year 1753.&nbsp; I quote it at
+length from Burton&rsquo;s &ldquo;Monasticon Eboracense,&rdquo;
+p. 78, knowing no other authority.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the fifth year of the reign of King Henry II. after
+the conquest of England by William, duke of Normandy, the Lord of
+Uglebardby, then called William de Bruce, and the Lord of Sneton,
+called Ralph de Perci, with a gentleman and a freeholder called
+Allatson, did on the 16th day of October appoint to meet and hunt
+the wild boar, in a certain wood or desert place belonging to the
+abbot of the monastery of Whitby; the place&rsquo;s name is
+Eskdale-side; the abbot&rsquo;s name was Sedman.&nbsp; Then these
+gentlemen being met, with their hounds and boar-staves, in the
+place before-named, and there having found a great wild boar, the
+hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage of
+Eskdale-side, where was a monk of Whitby, who was a hermit.&nbsp;
+The boar being very sore, and very hotly pursued, and dead run,
+took in at the chapel door, and there died: whereupon the hermit
+shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself within at his
+meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay
+without.&nbsp; The gentlemen in the thick of the wood, being put
+behind their game, followed the cry of their hounds, and so came
+to the hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opened the door and
+came forth, and within they found the boar lying dead, for which
+the gentlemen in very great fury (because their hounds were put
+from their game) did most violently and cruelly run at the hermit
+with their boar-staves, whereby he died soon after: thereupon the
+gentlemen, perceiving and knowing that they were in peril of
+death, took sanctuary at Scarborough.&nbsp; But at that time the
+abbot, being in very great favour with King Henry, removed them
+out of the sanctuary, whereby they came in danger of the law, and
+not to be privileged, but likely to have the severity of the law,
+which was death.&nbsp; But the hermit, being a holy and devout
+man, at the point of death sent for the abbot, and desired him to
+send for the gentlemen who had wounded him: the abbot so doing,
+the gentlemen came, and the hermit, being very sick and weak,
+said unto them, &lsquo;I am sure to die of those wounds you have
+given me.&rsquo;&nbsp; The abbot answered, &lsquo;They shall as
+surely die for the same;&rsquo; but the hermit answered,
+&lsquo;Not so, for I will freely forgive them my death, if they
+will be contented to be enjoined this penance for the safeguard
+of their souls.&rsquo;&nbsp; The gentlemen being present, and
+terrified with the fear of death, bade him enjoin what penance he
+would, so that he would but save their lives.&nbsp; Then said the
+hermit, &lsquo;You and yours shall hold your lands of the Abbot
+of Whitby and his successors in this manner: That upon Ascension
+Eve, you or some of you shall come to the woods of the Strag
+Heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same day at sun-rising, and
+there shall the abbot&rsquo;s officer blow his horn, to the
+intent that you may know how to find him; and he shall deliver
+unto you, William de Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strut-towers, and
+eleven yethers, to be cut by you or some for you, with a knife of
+one penny price; and you, Ralph de Perci, shall take twenty and
+one of each sort, to be cut in the same manner; and you,
+Allatson, shall take nine of each sort, to be cut as aforesaid,
+and to be taken on your backs, and carried to the town of Whitby,
+and to be there before nine of the clock the same day
+before-mentioned; at the same hour of nine of the clock (if it be
+full sea) your labour or service shall cease; but if it be not
+full sea, each of you shall set your stakes at the brim, each
+stake one yard from the other, and so yether them on each side of
+your yethers, and so stake on each side with your strut-towers,
+that they may stand three tides without removing by the force
+thereof: each of you shall do, make, and execute the said service
+at that very hour every year, except it shall be full sea at that
+hour: but when it shall so fall out, this service shall
+cease.&nbsp; You shall faithfully do this in remembrance that you
+did most cruelly slay me; and that you may the better call to God
+for mercy, repent unfeignedly for your sins, and do good works,
+the officers of Eskdale-side shall blow, <i>Out on you</i>,
+<i>out on you</i>, <i>out on you</i>, for this heinous
+crime.&nbsp; If you or your successors shall refuse this service,
+so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or
+yours shall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, or his
+successors.&nbsp; This I intreat, and earnestly beg that you may
+have lives and goods preserved for this service; and I request of
+you to promise by your parts in heaven that it shall be done by
+you and your successors, as it is aforesaid requested, and I will
+confirm it by the faith of an honest man.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then the
+hermit said: &lsquo;My soul longeth for the Lord, and I do as
+freely forgive these men my death as Christ forgave the thieves
+upon the cross;&rsquo; and in the presence of the abbot and the
+rest he said, moreover, these words: &lsquo;Into thy hands, O
+Lord, I commend my spirit, for from the bonds of death Thou hast
+redeemed me, O Lord of truth.&nbsp; Amen.&rsquo;&nbsp; So he
+yielded up the ghost the eighth day of December, <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 1160, upon whose soul God have
+mercy.&nbsp; Amen.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2><a name="page329"></a><span class="pagenum">p.
+329</span>ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED</h2>
+<p><span class="smcap">The</span> fertile and peaceable lowlands
+of England, as I have just said, offered few spots sufficiently
+wild and lonely for the habitation of a hermit; those, therefore,
+who wished to retire from the world into a more strict and
+solitary life than that which the monastery afforded were in the
+habit of immuring themselves, as anchorites, or in old English
+&ldquo;Ankers,&rdquo; in little cells of stone, built usually
+against the wall of a church.&nbsp; There is nothing new under
+the sun; and similar anchorites might have been seen in Egypt,
+500 years before the time of St. Antony, immured in cells in the
+temples of Isis or Serapis.&nbsp; It is only recently that
+antiquaries have discovered how common this practice was in
+England, and how frequently the traces of these cells are to be
+found about our parish churches.&nbsp; They were so common in the
+Diocese of Lincoln in the thirteenth century, that in 1233 the
+archdeacon is ordered to inquire whether any Anchorites&rsquo;
+cells had been built without the Bishop&rsquo;s leave; and in
+many of our parish churches may be seen, either on the north or
+the south side of the chancel, a narrow slit in the wall, or one
+of the lights of a window prolonged downwards, the prolongation,
+if not now walled up, being closed with a shutter.&nbsp; Through
+these apertures the &ldquo;incluse,&rdquo; or anker, watched the
+celebration of mass, and partook of the Holy Communion.&nbsp;
+Similar cells were to be found in Ireland, at least in the
+diocese of Ossory; and doubtless in Scotland also.&nbsp; Ducange,
+in his Glossary, on the word &ldquo;inclusi,&rdquo; lays down
+rules for the size of the anker&rsquo;s cell, which must be
+twelve feet square, with three windows, one opening into the
+church, one for taking in his food, and one for light; and the
+&ldquo;Salisbury Manual&rdquo; as well as the
+&ldquo;Pontifical&rdquo; of Lacy, bishop of Exeter, in the first
+half of the fifteenth century, contains a regular
+&ldquo;service&rdquo; for the walling in of an anchorite. <a
+name="citation330"></a><a href="#footnote330"
+class="citation">[330]</a>&nbsp; There exists too a most singular
+and painful book, well known to antiquaries, but to them alone,
+&ldquo;The Ancren Riwle,&rdquo; addressed to three young ladies
+who had immured themselves (seemingly about the beginning of the
+thirteenth century) at Kingston Tarrant, in Dorsetshire.</p>
+<p>For women as well as men entered these living tombs; and there
+spent their days in dirt and starvation, and such prayer and
+meditation doubtless as the stupified and worn-out intellect
+could compass; their only recreation being the gossip of the
+neighbouring women, who came to peep in through the little
+window&mdash;a recreation in which (if we are to believe the
+author of &ldquo;The Ancren Riwle&rdquo;) they were tempted to
+indulge only too freely; till the window of the recluse&rsquo;s
+cell, he says, became what the smith&rsquo;s forge or the
+alehouse has become since&mdash;the place where all the gossip
+and scandal of the village passed from one ear to another.&nbsp;
+But we must not believe such scandals of all.&nbsp; Only too much
+in earnest must those seven young maidens have been, whom St.
+Gilbert of Sempringham persuaded to immure themselves, as a
+sacrifice acceptable to God, in a den along the north wall of his
+church; or that St. Hutta, or Huetta, in the beginning of the
+thirteenth century, who after ministering to lepers, and longing
+and even trying to become a leper herself, immured herself for
+life in a cell against the church of Huy near Li&egrave;ge.</p>
+<p>Fearful must have been the fate of these incluses if any evil
+had befallen the building of which (one may say) they had become
+a part.&nbsp; More than one in the stormy Middle Age may have
+suffered the fate of the poor women immured beside St.
+Mary&rsquo;s church at Mantes, who, when town and church were
+burnt by William the Conqueror, unable to escape (or, according
+to William of Malmesbury, thinking it unlawful to quit their
+cells even in that extremity), perished in the flames; and so
+consummated once and for all their long martyrdom.</p>
+<p>How long the practice of the hermit life was common in these
+islands is more than my learning enables me to say.&nbsp; Hermits
+seem, from the old Chartularies, <a name="citation331"></a><a
+href="#footnote331" class="citation">[331]</a> to have been not
+unfrequent in Scotland and the North of England during the whole
+Middle Age.&nbsp; We have seen that they were frequent in the
+times of Malcolm Canmore and the old Celtic Church; and the Latin
+Church, which was introduced by St. Margaret, seems to have kept
+up the fashion.&nbsp; In the middle of the thirteenth century,
+David de Haigh conveyed to the monks of Cupar the hermitage which
+Gilmichael the Hermit once held, with three acres of land.&nbsp;
+In 1329 the Convent of Durham made a grant of a hermitage to
+Roger Eller at Norham on the Tweed, in order that he might have a
+&ldquo;fit place to fight with the old enemy and bewail his sins,
+apart from the turmoil of men.&rdquo;&nbsp; In 1445 James the
+Second, king of Scots, granted to John Smith the hermitage in the
+forest of Kilgur, &ldquo;which formerly belonged in heritage to
+Hugh Cominch the Hermit, and was resigned by him, with the croft
+and the green belonging to it, and three acres of arable
+land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I have quoted these few instances, to show how long the custom
+lingered; and doubtless hermits were to be found in the remoter
+parts of these realms when the sudden tempest of the Reformation
+swept away alike the palace of the rich abbot and the cell of the
+poor recluse, and exterminated throughout England the ascetic
+life.&nbsp; The two last hermits whom I have come across in
+history are both figures which exemplify very well those times of
+corruption and of change.&nbsp; At Loretto (not in Italy, but in
+Musselburgh, near Edinburgh) there lived a hermit who pretended
+to work miracles, and who it seems had charge of some image of
+&ldquo;Our Lady of Loretto.&rdquo;&nbsp; The scandals which
+ensued from the visits of young folks to this hermit roused the
+wrath of that terrible scourge of monks, Sir David Lindsay of the
+Mount: yet as late as 1536, James the Fifth of Scotland made a
+pilgrimage from Stirling to the shrine, in order to procure a
+propitious passage to France in search of a wife.&nbsp; But in
+1543, Lord Hertford, during his destructive voyage to the Forth,
+destroyed, with other objects of greater consequence, the chapel
+of the &ldquo;Lady of Lorett,&rdquo; which was not likely in
+those days to be rebuilt; and so the hermit of Musselburgh
+vanishes from history.</p>
+<p>A few years before, in 1537, says Mr. Froude, <a
+name="citation333"></a><a href="#footnote333"
+class="citation">[333]</a> while the harbours, piers, and
+fortresses were rising in Dover, &ldquo;an ancient hermit
+tottered night after night from his cell to a chapel on the
+cliff, and the tapers on the altar before which he knelt in his
+lonely orisons made a familiar beacon far over the rolling
+waters.&nbsp; The men of the rising world cared little for the
+sentiment of the past.&nbsp; The anchorite was told sternly by
+the workmen that his light was a signal to the King&rsquo;s
+enemies&rdquo; (a Spanish invasion from Flanders was expected),
+&ldquo;and must burn no more; and, when it was next seen, three
+of them waylaid the old man on his way home, threw him down and
+beat him cruelly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So ended, in an undignified way, as worn-out institutions are
+wont to end, the hermit life in the British Isles.&nbsp; Will it
+ever reappear?&nbsp; Who can tell?&nbsp; To an age of luxury and
+unbelief has succeeded, more than once in history, an age of
+remorse and superstition.&nbsp; Gay gentlemen and gay ladies may
+renounce the world, as they did in the time of St. Jerome, when
+the world is ready to renounce them.&nbsp; We have already our
+nunneries, our monasteries, of more creeds than one; and the
+mountains of Kerry, or the pine forests of the Highlands, may
+some day once more hold hermits, persuading themselves to
+believe, and at last succeeding in believing, the teaching of St.
+Antony, instead of that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of that
+Father of the spirits of all flesh, who made love, and marriage,
+and little children, sunshine and flowers, the wings of
+butterflies and the song of birds; who rejoices in his own works,
+and bids all who truly reverence him rejoice in them with
+him.&nbsp; The fancy may seem impossible.&nbsp; It is not more
+impossible than many religious phenomena seemed forty years ago,
+which are now no fancies, but powerful facts.</p>
+<p>The following books should be consulted by those who wish to
+follow out this curious subject in detail:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The &ldquo;Vit&aelig; Patrum Eremiticorum.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The &ldquo;Acta Sanctorum.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Bollandists are,
+of course, almost exhaustive of any subject on which they
+treat.&nbsp; But as they are difficult to find, save in a few
+public libraries, the &ldquo;Acta Sanctorum&rdquo; of Surius, or
+of Aloysius Lipommasius, may be profitably consulted.&nbsp;
+Butler&rsquo;s &ldquo;Lives of the Saints&rdquo; is a book common
+enough, but of no great value.</p>
+<p>M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s &ldquo;Moines
+d&rsquo;Occident,&rdquo; and Ozanam&rsquo;s &ldquo;Etudes
+Germaniques,&rdquo; may be read with much profit.</p>
+<p>Dr. Reeves&rsquo; edition of Adamnan&rsquo;s &ldquo;Life of
+St. Columba,&rdquo; published by the Irish Arch&aelig;ological
+and Celtic Society, is a treasury of learning, which needs no
+praise of mine.</p>
+<p>The lives of St. Cuthbert and St. Godric may be found among
+the publications of the Surtees Society.</p>
+<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2>
+<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12"
+class="footnote">[12]</a>&nbsp; About <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 368.&nbsp; See the details in
+Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xxviii.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15"
+class="footnote">[15]</a>&nbsp; In the Celtic Irish Church, there
+seems to have been no other pattern.&nbsp; The hermits who became
+abbots, with their monks, were the only teachers of the
+people&mdash;one had almost said, the only Christians.&nbsp;
+Whence, as early as the sixth century, if not the fifth, they,
+and their disciples of Iona and Scotland, derived their peculiar
+tonsure, their use of bells, their Eastern mode of keeping the
+Paschal feast, and other peculiarities, seemingly without the
+intervention of Rome, is a mystery still unsolved.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17a"></a><a href="#citation17a"
+class="footnote">[17a]</a>&nbsp; A book which, from its bearing
+on present problems, well deserves translation.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17b"></a><a href="#citation17b"
+class="footnote">[17b]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Vit&aelig;
+Patrum.&rdquo;&nbsp; Published at Antwerp, 1628.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23"
+class="footnote">[23]</a>&nbsp; He is addressing our Lord.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24"
+class="footnote">[24]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Agentes in
+rebus.&rdquo;&nbsp; On the Emperor&rsquo;s staff?</p>
+<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27"
+class="footnote">[27]</a>&nbsp; St. Augustine says, that
+Potitianus&rsquo;s adventure at Tr&ecirc;ves happened &ldquo;I
+know not when.&rdquo;&nbsp; His own conversation with Potitianus
+must have happened about <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 385,
+for he was baptized April 25, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span>
+387.&nbsp; He does not mention the name of Potitianus&rsquo;s
+emperor: but as Gratian was Augustus from <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 367 to <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 375, and actual Emperor of the West
+till <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 383, and as Tr&ecirc;ves
+was his usual residence, he is most probably the person meant:
+but if not, then his father Valentinian.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29"
+class="footnote">[29]</a>&nbsp; See the excellent article on
+Gratian in Smith&rsquo;s Dictionary, by Mr. Means.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30"
+class="footnote">[30]</a>&nbsp; I cannot explain this fact: but I
+have seen it with my own eyes.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32"
+class="footnote">[32]</a>&nbsp; I use throughout the text
+published by Heschelius, in 1611.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33"
+class="footnote">[33]</a>&nbsp; He is said to have been born at
+Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle Egypt, <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 251.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34"
+class="footnote">[34]</a>&nbsp; Seemingly the Greek language and
+literature.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35"
+class="footnote">[35]</a>&nbsp; I have thought it more honest to
+translate &alpha;&sigma;&kappa;&#942;&sigma;&iota;&sigmaf; by
+&ldquo;training,&rdquo; which is now, as then, its true
+equivalent; being a metaphor drawn from the Greek games by St.
+Paul, 1 Tim. iv. 8.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41"
+class="footnote">[41]</a>&nbsp; I give this passage as it stands
+in the Greek version.&nbsp; In the Latin, attributed to Evagrius,
+it is even more extravagant and rhetorical.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42"
+class="footnote">[42]</a>&nbsp; Surely the imagery painted on the
+inner walls of Egyptian tombs, and probably believed by Antony
+and his compeers to be connected with devil-worship, explain
+these visions.&nbsp; In the &ldquo;Words of the Elders&rdquo; a
+monk complains of being troubled with &ldquo;pictures, old and
+new.&rdquo;&nbsp; Probably, again, the pain which Antony felt was
+the agony of a fever; and the visions which he saw, its
+delirium.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44"
+class="footnote">[44]</a>&nbsp; Here is an instance of the
+original use of the word &ldquo;monastery,&rdquo; viz. a cell in
+which a single person dwelt.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45"
+class="footnote">[45]</a>&nbsp; An allusion to the heathen
+mysteries.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49"
+class="footnote">[49]</a>&nbsp; <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 311.&nbsp; Galerius Valerius
+Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had been a shepherd-lad in
+Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius Maximianus; and rose,
+like him, through the various grades of the army to be co-Emperor
+of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious persecutor
+of the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant.&nbsp; Such
+were the &ldquo;kings of the world&rdquo; from whom those old
+monks fled.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote52a"></a><a href="#citation52a"
+class="footnote">[52a]</a>&nbsp; The lonely alluvial flats at the
+mouths of the Nile.&nbsp; &ldquo;Below the cliffs, beside the
+sea,&rdquo; as one describes them.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote52b"></a><a href="#citation52b"
+class="footnote">[52b]</a>&nbsp; Now the monastery of Deir
+Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah, between the Nile and the Red
+Sea, where Antony&rsquo;s monks endure to this day.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60"
+class="footnote">[60]</a>&nbsp; This most famous monastery,
+<i>i.e.</i> collection of monks&rsquo; cells, in Egypt is situate
+forty miles from Alexandria, on a hill where nitre was
+gathered.&nbsp; The hospitality and virtue of its inmates are
+much praised by Ruffinus and Palladius.&nbsp; They were,
+nevertheless, the chief agents in the fanatical murder of
+Hypatia.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65"
+class="footnote">[65]</a>&nbsp; It appears from this and many
+other passages, that extempore prayer was usual among these
+monks, as it was afterwards among the Puritans (who have copied
+them in so many other things), whenever a godly man visited
+them.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote66a"></a><a href="#citation66a"
+class="footnote">[66a]</a>&nbsp; Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis,
+was the author of an obscure schism calling itself the
+&ldquo;Church of the Martyrs,&rdquo; which refused to communicate
+with the rest of the Eastern Church.&nbsp; See Smith&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Dictionary,&rdquo; on the word &ldquo;Meletius.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote66b"></a><a href="#citation66b"
+class="footnote">[66b]</a>&nbsp; Arius (whose most famous and
+successful opponent was Athanasius, the writer of this biography)
+maintained that the Son of God was not co-equal and co-eternal
+with the Father, but created by Him out of nothing, and before
+the world.&nbsp; His opinions were condemned in the famous
+Council of Nic&aelig;a, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span>
+325.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67"
+class="footnote">[67]</a>&nbsp; If St. Antony could use so
+extreme an argument against the Arians, what would he have said
+to the Mariolatry which sprang up after his death?</p>
+<p><a name="footnote68a"></a><a href="#citation68a"
+class="footnote">[68a]</a>&nbsp; <i>I.e.</i> those who were still
+heathens.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote68b"></a><a href="#citation68b"
+class="footnote">[68b]</a>&nbsp;
+&#7984;&epsilon;&rho;&epsilon;&#973;&sigmaf;.&nbsp; The Christian
+priest is always called in this work simply
+&pi;&rho;&epsilon;&sigma;&theta;&#973;&tau;&epsilon;&rho;&omicron;&sigmaf;,
+or elder.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote72a"></a><a href="#citation72a"
+class="footnote">[72a]</a>&nbsp; Probably that of <span
+class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia,
+nominated by the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council
+of Antioch, expelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and
+great violence was committed by his followers and by Philagrius
+the Prefect.&nbsp; Athanasius meanwhile fled to Rome.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote72b"></a><a href="#citation72b"
+class="footnote">[72b]</a>&nbsp; <i>I.e.</i> celebrated there
+their own Communion.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77"
+class="footnote">[77]</a>&nbsp; Evidently the prim&aelig;val
+custom of embalming the dead, and keeping mummies in the house,
+still lingered among the Egyptians.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote108"></a><a href="#citation108"
+class="footnote">[108]</a>&nbsp; These sounds, like those which
+St. Guthlac heard in the English fens, are plainly those of
+wild-fowl.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote115"></a><a href="#citation115"
+class="footnote">[115]</a>&nbsp; The Brucheion, with its palaces
+and museum, the residence of the kings and philosophers of Egypt,
+had been destroyed is the days of Claudius and Valerian, during
+the senseless civil wars which devastated Alexandria for twelve
+years; and monks had probably taken up their abode in the
+ruins.&nbsp; It was in this quarter, at the beginning of the next
+century, that Hypatia was murdered by the monks.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote116"></a><a href="#citation116"
+class="footnote">[116]</a>&nbsp; Probably the Northern, or Lesser
+Oasis, Ouah el Baharieh, about eighty miles west of the Nile.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117a"></a><a href="#citation117a"
+class="footnote">[117a]</a>&nbsp; Jerome (who sailed that sea
+several times) uses the word here, as it is used in Acts xxvii.
+27, for the sea about Malta, &ldquo;driven up and down in
+Adria.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117b"></a><a href="#citation117b"
+class="footnote">[117b]</a>&nbsp; The southern point of Sicily,
+now Cape Passaro.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote118"></a><a href="#citation118"
+class="footnote">[118]</a>&nbsp; In the Morea, near the modern
+Navarino.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote119a"></a><a href="#citation119a"
+class="footnote">[119a]</a>&nbsp; At the mouth of the Bay of
+Cattaro.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote119b"></a><a href="#citation119b"
+class="footnote">[119b]</a>&nbsp; This story&mdash;whatever
+belief we may give to its details&mdash;is one of many which make
+it tolerably certain that a large snake (Python) still lingered
+in Eastern Europe.&nbsp; Huge tame snakes were kept as sacred by
+the Macedonian women; and one of them (according to Lucian)
+Peregrinus Proteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitted with a
+linen mask, and made it personate the god &AElig;sculapius.&nbsp;
+In the &ldquo;Historia Lausiaca,&rdquo; cap. lii. is an account
+by an eye-witness of a large snake in the Thebaid, whose track
+was &ldquo;as if a beam had been dragged along the
+sand.&rdquo;&nbsp; It terrifies the Syrian monks: but the
+Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying that he had seen
+much larger&mdash;even up to fifteen cubits.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote121"></a><a href="#citation121"
+class="footnote">[121]</a>&nbsp; Now Capo St. Angelo and the
+island of Cerigo, at the southern point of Greece.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote123a"></a><a href="#citation123a"
+class="footnote">[123a]</a>&nbsp; See p. <span
+class="indexpageno"><a href="#page52">52</a></span>.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote123b"></a><a href="#citation123b"
+class="footnote">[123b]</a>&nbsp; Probably dedicated to the
+Paphian Venus.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote130"></a><a href="#citation130"
+class="footnote">[130]</a>&nbsp; The lives of these two hermits
+and that of St. Cuthbert will be given in a future number.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote131"></a><a href="#citation131"
+class="footnote">[131]</a>&nbsp; Sihor, the black river, was the
+ancient name of the Nile, derived from the dark hue of its
+waters.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote159"></a><a href="#citation159"
+class="footnote">[159]</a>&nbsp; Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv.
+cap. 9.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote160"></a><a href="#citation160"
+class="footnote">[160]</a>&nbsp; By Dr. Burgess.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote163"></a><a href="#citation163"
+class="footnote">[163]</a>&nbsp; History of Christianity, vol.
+iii. p. 109.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote203"></a><a href="#citation203"
+class="footnote">[203]</a>&nbsp; An authentic fact.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote204"></a><a href="#citation204"
+class="footnote">[204]</a>&nbsp; If any one doubts this, let him
+try the game called &ldquo;Russian scandal,&rdquo; where a story,
+passed secretly from mouth to mouth, ends utterly transformed,
+the original point being lost, a new point substituted, original
+names and facts omitted, and utterly new ones inserted, &amp;c.
+&amp;c.; an experiment which is ludicrous, or saddening,
+according to the temper of the experimenter.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote209"></a><a href="#citation209"
+class="footnote">[209]</a>&nbsp; Les Moines d&rsquo;Occident,
+vol. ii. pp. 332&ndash;467.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote210"></a><a href="#citation210"
+class="footnote">[210]</a>&nbsp; M. La Borderie, &ldquo;Discours
+sur les Saints Bretons;&rdquo; a work which I have unfortunately
+not been able to consult.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212a"></a><a href="#citation212a"
+class="footnote">[212a]</a>&nbsp; Vit&aelig; Patrum, p. 753.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212b"></a><a href="#citation212b"
+class="footnote">[212b]</a>&nbsp; Ibid. p. 893.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212c"></a><a href="#citation212c"
+class="footnote">[212c]</a>&nbsp; Ibid. p. 539.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212d"></a><a href="#citation212d"
+class="footnote">[212d]</a>&nbsp; Ibid. p. 540.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212e"></a><a href="#citation212e"
+class="footnote">[212e]</a>&nbsp; Ibid. p. 532.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote224"></a><a href="#citation224"
+class="footnote">[224]</a>&nbsp; It has been handed down, in most
+crabbed Latin, by his disciple, Eugippius; it may be read at
+length in Pez, Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote238"></a><a href="#citation238"
+class="footnote">[238]</a>&nbsp; Scriptores Austriacarum
+Rerum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote245"></a><a href="#citation245"
+class="footnote">[245]</a>&nbsp; H&aelig;ften, quoted by
+Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote256"></a><a href="#citation256"
+class="footnote">[256]</a>&nbsp; Dr. Reeves supposes these to
+have been &ldquo;crustacea:&rdquo; but their stinging and
+clinging prove them surely to have been
+jelly-fish&mdash;medus&aelig;.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote257"></a><a href="#citation257"
+class="footnote">[257]</a>&nbsp; I have followed the Latin prose
+version of it, which M. Achille Jubinal attributes to the
+eleventh century.&nbsp; Here and there I have taken the liberty
+of using the French prose version, which he attributes to the
+latter part of the twelfth.&nbsp; I have often condensed the
+story, where it was prolix or repeated itself: but I have tried
+to follow faithfully both matter and style, and to give, word for
+word, as nearly as I could, any notable passages.&nbsp; Those who
+wish to know more of St. Brendan should consult the learned
+<i>brochure</i> of M. Jubinal, &ldquo;La L&eacute;gende Latine de
+St. Brandaines,&rdquo; and the two English versions of the
+Legend, edited by Mr. Thomas Wright for the Percy Society, vol.
+xiv.&nbsp; One is in verse, and of the earlier part of the
+fourteenth century, and spirited enough: the other, a prose
+version, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in his edition of the
+&ldquo;Golden Legend;&rdquo; 1527.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote260a"></a><a href="#citation260a"
+class="footnote">[260a]</a>&nbsp; In the Barony of Longford,
+County Galway.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote260b"></a><a href="#citation260b"
+class="footnote">[260b]</a>&nbsp; 3,000, like 300, seems to be, I
+am informed, only an Irish expression for any large number.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote269"></a><a href="#citation269"
+class="footnote">[269]</a>&nbsp; Some dim legend concerning
+icebergs, and caves therein.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote270"></a><a href="#citation270"
+class="footnote">[270]</a>&nbsp; Probably from reports of the
+volcanic coast of Iceland.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote272"></a><a href="#citation272"
+class="footnote">[272]</a>&nbsp; This part of the legend has been
+changed and humanized as time ran on.&nbsp; In the Latin and
+French versions it has little or no point or moral.&nbsp; In the
+English, Judas accounts for the presence of the cloth
+thus:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Here I may see what it is to give other
+men&rsquo;s (goods) with harm.<br />
+As will many rich men with unright all day take,<br />
+Of poor men here and there, and almisse (alms) sithhe
+(afterwards) make.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>For the tongs and the stone he accounts by saying that, as he
+used them for &ldquo;good ends, each thing should surely find him
+which he did for God&rsquo;s love.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But in the prose version of Wynkyn de Worde, the tongs have
+been changed into &ldquo;ox-tongues,&rdquo; &ldquo;which I gave
+some tyme to two preestes to praye for me.&nbsp; I bought them
+with myne owne money, and therefore they ease me, bycause the
+fysshes of the sea gnaw on them, and spare me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This latter story of the ox-tongues has been followed by Mr.
+Sebastian Evans, in his poem on St. Brendan.&nbsp; Both he and
+Mr. Matthew Arnold have rendered the moral of the English version
+very beautifully.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote274"></a><a href="#citation274"
+class="footnote">[274]</a>&nbsp; Copied, surely, from the life of
+Paul the first hermit.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote283"></a><a href="#citation283"
+class="footnote">[283]</a>&nbsp; The famous Cathach, now in the
+museum of the Royal Irish Academy, was long popularly believed to
+be the very Psalter in question.&nbsp; As a relic of St. Columba
+it was carried to battle by the O&rsquo;Donnels, even as late as
+1497, to insure victory for the clan.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote290"></a><a href="#citation290"
+class="footnote">[290]</a>&nbsp; Bede, book iii. cap. 3.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote292"></a><a href="#citation292"
+class="footnote">[292]</a>&nbsp; These details, and countless
+stories of St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s miracles, are to be found in
+Reginald of Durham, &ldquo;De Admirandis Beati Cuthberti,&rdquo;
+published by the Surtees Society.&nbsp; This curious book is
+admirably edited by Mr. J. Raine; with an English synopsis at the
+end, which enables the reader for whom the Latin is too difficult
+to enjoy those pictures of life under Stephen and Henry II.,
+whether moral, religious, or social, of which the book is a rich
+museum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote299"></a><a href="#citation299"
+class="footnote">[299]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;In this hole lie the
+bones of the Venerable Bede.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote303"></a><a href="#citation303"
+class="footnote">[303]</a>&nbsp; An English translation of the
+Anglo-Saxon life has been published by Mr. Godwin, of Cambridge,
+and is well worth perusal.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote312"></a><a href="#citation312"
+class="footnote">[312]</a>&nbsp; Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332,
+333.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote316"></a><a href="#citation316"
+class="footnote">[316]</a>&nbsp; The earlier one; that of the
+Harleian MSS. which (Mr. Stevenson thinks) was twice afterwards
+expanded and decorated by him.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote323"></a><a href="#citation323"
+class="footnote">[323]</a>&nbsp; Reginald wants to make &ldquo;a
+wonder incredible in our own times,&rdquo; of a very common form
+(thank God) of peaceful death.&nbsp; He makes miracles in the
+same way of the catching of salmon and of otters, simple enough
+to one who, like Godric, knew the river, and every wild thing
+which haunted it.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote330"></a><a href="#citation330"
+class="footnote">[330]</a>&nbsp; That of the Salisbury Manual is
+published in the &ldquo;Ecclesiologist&rdquo; for August 1848, by
+the Rev. Sir W. H. Cope, to whom I am indebted for the greater
+number of these curious facts.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote331"></a><a href="#citation331"
+class="footnote">[331]</a>&nbsp; I owe these facts to the
+courtesy of Mr. John Stuart, of the General Register Office,
+Edinburgh.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote333"></a><a href="#citation333"
+class="footnote">[333]</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;History of
+England,&rdquo; vol. iii. p. 256, note.</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMITS***</p>
+<pre>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
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+Title: The Hermits
+
+Author: Charles Kingsley
+
+Release Date: August, 2005  [EBook #8733]
+[This file was first posted on August 5, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE HERMITS ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+THE HERMITS
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+
+St. Paphnutius used to tell a story which may serve as a fit
+introduction to this book.  It contains a miniature sketch, not only
+of the social state of Egypt, but of the whole Roman Empire, and of
+the causes which led to the famous monastic movement in the
+beginning of the fifth century after Christ.
+
+Now Paphnutius was a wise and holy hermit, the Father, Abba, or
+Abbot of many monks; and after he had trained himself in the desert
+with all severity for many years, he besought God to show him which
+of His saints he was like.
+
+And it was said to him, "Thou art like a certain flute-player in the
+city."
+
+Then Paphnutius took his staff, and went into the city, and found
+that flute-player.  But he confessed that he was a drunkard and a
+profligate, and had till lately got his living by robbery, and
+recollected not having ever done one good deed.  Nevertheless, when
+Paphnutius questioned him more closely, he said that he recollected
+once having found a holy maiden beset by robbers, and having
+delivered her, and brought her safe to town.  And when Paphnutius
+questioned him more closely still, he said he recollected having
+done another deed.  When he was a robber, he met once in the desert
+a beautiful woman; and she prayed him to do her no harm, but to take
+her away with him as a slave, whither he would; for, said she, "I am
+fleeing from the apparitors and the Governor's curials for the last
+two years.  My husband has been imprisoned for 300 pieces of gold,
+which he owes as arrears of taxes; and has been often hung up, and
+often scourged; and my three dear boys have been taken from me; and
+I am wandering from place to place, and have been often caught
+myself and continually scourged; and now I have been in the desert
+three days without food."
+
+And when the robber heard that, he took pity on her, and took her to
+his cave, and gave her 300 pieces of gold, and went with her to the
+city, and set her husband and her boys free.
+
+Then Paphnutius said, "I never did a deed like that:  and yet I have
+not passed my life in ease and idleness.  But now, my son, since God
+hath had such care of thee, have a care for thine own self."
+
+And when the musician heard that, he threw away the flutes which he
+held in his hand, and went with Paphnutius into the desert, and
+passed his life in hymns and prayer, changing his earthly music into
+heavenly; and after three years he went to heaven, and was at rest
+among the choirs of angels, and the ranks of the just.
+
+This story, as I said, is a miniature sketch of the state of the
+whole Roman Empire, and of the causes why men fled from it into the
+desert.  Christianity had reformed the morals of individuals; it had
+not reformed the Empire itself.  That had sunk into a state only to
+be compared with the worst despotisms of the East.  The Emperors,
+whether or not they called themselves Christian, like Constantine,
+knew no law save the basest maxims of the heathen world.  Several of
+them were barbarians who had risen from the lowest rank merely by
+military prowess; and who, half maddened by their sudden elevation,
+added to their native ignorance and brutality the pride, cunning,
+and cruelty of an Eastern Sultan.  Rival Emperors, or Generals who
+aspired to be Emperors, devastated the world from Egypt to Britain
+by sanguinary civil wars.  The government of the provinces had
+become altogether military.  Torture was employed, not merely, as of
+old, against slaves, but against all ranks, without distinction.
+The people were exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent in wars
+which did not concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had no
+share.  In the municipal towns, liberty and justice were dead.  The
+curials, who answered somewhat to our aldermen, and who were
+responsible for the payment of the public moneys, tried their best
+to escape the unpopular office, and, when compelled to serve, wrung
+the money in self-defence out of the poorer inhabitants by every
+kind of tyranny.  The land was tilled either by oppressed and
+miserable peasants, or by gangs of slaves, in comparison with whose
+lot that even of the American negro was light.  The great were
+served in their own households by crowds of slaves, better fed,
+doubtless, but even more miserable and degraded, than those who
+tilled the estates.  Private profligacy among all ranks was such as
+cannot be described in these or in any modern pages.  The regular
+clergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and for the
+most part, in accordance with public opinion, unmarried, were able
+to make no stand against the general corruption of the age, because-
+-at least if we are to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom--
+they were giving themselves up to ambition and avarice, vanity and
+luxury, intrigue and party spirit, and had become the flatterers of
+fine ladies, "silly women laden with sins, ever learning, and never
+coming to the knowledge of the truth."  Such a state of things not
+only drove poor creatures into the desert, like that fair woman whom
+the robber met, but it raised up bands of robbers over the whole of
+Europe, Africa, and the East,--men who, like Robin Hood and the
+outlaws of the Middle Age, getting no justice from man, broke loose
+from society, and while they plundered their oppressors, kept up
+some sort of rude justice and humanity among themselves.  Many, too,
+fled, and became robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which
+carried off from every province the flower of the young men, to shed
+their blood on foreign battle-fields.  In time, too, many of these
+conscripts became monks, and the great monasteries of Scetis and
+Nitria were hunted over again and again by officers and soldiers
+from the neighbouring city of Alexandria in search of young men who
+had entered the "spiritual warfare" to escape the earthly one.  And
+as a background to all this seething heap of decay, misrule, and
+misery, hung the black cloud of the barbarians, the Teutonic tribes
+from whom we derive the best part of our blood, ever coming nearer
+and nearer, waxing stronger and stronger, learning discipline and
+civilization by serving in the Roman armies, alternately the allies
+and the enemies of the Emperors, rising, some of them, to the
+highest offices of State, and destined, so the wisest Romans saw all
+the more clearly as the years rolled on, to be soon the conquerors
+of the Caesars, and the masters of the Western world.
+
+No wonder if that, in such a state of things, there arose such
+violent contrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric protests
+against the general wickedness, as may be seen in the figure of
+Abbot Paphnutius, when compared either with the poor man tortured in
+prison for his arrears of taxes, or with the Governor and the
+officials who tortured him.  No wonder if, in such a state of
+things, the minds of men were stirred by a passion akin to despair,
+which ended in a new and grand form of suicide.  It would have ended
+often, but for Christianity, in such an actual despair as that which
+had led in past ages more than one noble Roman to slay himself, when
+he lost all hope for the Republic.  Christianity taught those who
+despaired of society, of the world--in one word, of the Roman
+Empire, and all that it had done for men--to hope at least for a
+kingdom of God after death.  It taught those who, had they been
+heathens and brave enough, would have slain themselves to escape out
+of a world which was no place for honest men, that the body must be
+kept alive, if for no other reason, at least for the sake of the
+immortal soul, doomed, according to its works, to endless bliss or
+endless torment.
+
+But that the world--such, at least, as they saw it then--was doomed,
+Scripture and their own reason taught them.  They did not merely
+believe, but see, in the misery and confusion, the desolation and
+degradation around them, that all that was in the world, the lust of
+the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, was not of
+the Father, but of the world; that the world was passing away, and
+the lust thereof, and that only he who did the will of God could
+abide for ever.  They did not merely believe, but saw, that the
+wrath of God was revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness of
+men; and that the world in general--above all, its kings and rulers,
+the rich and luxurious--were treasuring up for themselves wrath,
+tribulation, and anguish, against a day of wrath and revelation of
+the righteous judgment of God, who would render to every man
+according to his works.
+
+That they were correct in their judgment of the world about them,
+contemporary history proves abundantly.  That they were correct,
+likewise, in believing that some fearful judgment was about to fall
+on man, is proved by the fact that it did fall; that the first half
+of the fifth century saw, not only the sack of Rome, but the
+conquest and desolation of the greater part of the civilized world,
+amid bloodshed, misery, and misrule, which seemed to turn Europe
+into a chaos,--which would have turned it into a chaos, had there
+not been a few men left who still felt it possible and necessary to
+believe in God and to work righteousness.
+
+Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed
+world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save
+each man his own soul in that dread day.
+
+Others, not Christians, had done the same before them.  Among all
+the Eastern nations men had appeared, from time to time, to whom the
+things seen were but a passing phantom, the things unseen the only
+true and eternal realities; who, tormented alike by the awfulness of
+the infinite unknown, and by the petty cares and low passions of the
+finite mortal life which they knew but too well, had determined to
+renounce the latter, that they might give themselves up to solving
+the riddle of the former; and be at peace; and free, at least, from
+the tyranny of their own selves.  Eight hundred years before St.
+Antony fled into the desert, that young Hindoo rajah, whom men call
+Buddha now, had fled into the forest, leaving wives and kingdom, to
+find rest for his soul.  He denounced caste; he preached poverty,
+asceticism, self-annihilation.  He founded a religion, like that of
+the old hermits, democratic and ascetic, with its convents, saint-
+worships, pilgrimages, miraculous relics, rosaries, and much more,
+which strangely anticipates the monastic religion; and his
+followers, to this day, are more numerous than those of any other
+creed.
+
+Brahmins, too, had given themselves up to penance and mortification
+till they believed themselves able, like Kehama, to have gained by
+self-torture the right to command, not nature merely, but the gods
+themselves.  Among the Jews the Essenes by the Dead Sea, and the
+Therapeutae in Egypt, had formed ascetic communities, the former
+more "practical," the latter more "contemplative:" but both alike
+agreed in the purpose of escaping from the world into a life of
+poverty and simplicity, piety and virtue; and among the countless
+philosophic sects of Asia, known to ecclesiastical writers as
+"heretics," more than one had professed, and doubtless often
+practised, the same abstraction from the world, the same contempt of
+the flesh.  The very Neo-Platonists of Alexandria, while they
+derided the Christian asceticism, found themselves forced to affect,
+like the hapless Hypatia, a sentimental and pharisaic asceticism of
+their own.  This phase of sight and feeling, so strange to us now,
+was common, nay, primaeval, among the Easterns.  The day was come
+when it should pass from the East into the West.  And Egypt, "the
+mother of wonders;" the parent of so much civilization and
+philosophy both Greek and Roman; the half-way resting-place through
+which not merely the merchandise, but the wisdom of the East had for
+centuries passed into the Roman Empire; a land more ill-governed,
+too, and more miserable, in spite of its fertility, because more
+defenceless and effeminate, than most other Roman possessions--was
+the country in which naturally, and as it were of hereditary right,
+such a movement would first appear.
+
+Accordingly it was discovered, about the end of the fourth century,
+that the mountains and deserts of Egypt were full of Christian men
+who had fled out of the dying world, in the hope of attaining
+everlasting life.  Wonderful things were told of their courage,
+their abstinence, their miracles:  and of their virtues also; of
+their purity, their humility, their helpfulness, and charity to each
+other and to all.  They called each other, it was said, brothers;
+and they lived up to that sacred name, forgotten, if ever known, by
+the rest of the Roman Empire.  Like the Apostolic Christians in the
+first fervour of their conversion, they had all things in common;
+they lived at peace with each other, under a mild and charitable
+rule; and kept literally those commands of Christ which all the rest
+of the world explained away to nothing.
+
+The news spread.  It chimed in with all that was best, as well as
+with much that was questionable, in the public mind.  That men could
+be brothers; that they could live without the tawdry luxury, the
+tasteless and often brutal amusements, the low sensuality, the base
+intrigue, the bloody warfare, which was the accepted lot of the
+many; that they could find time to look stedfastly at heaven and
+hell as awful realities, which must be faced some day, which had
+best be faced at once; this, just as much as curiosity about their
+alleged miracles, and the selfish longing to rival them in
+superhuman powers, led many of the most virtuous and the most
+learned men of the time to visit them, and ascertain the truth.
+Jerome, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Sulpicius Severus, went to see them,
+undergoing on the way the severest toils and dangers, and brought
+back reports of mingled truth and falsehood, specimens of which will
+be seen in these pages.  Travelling in those days was a labour, if
+not of necessity, then surely of love.  Palladius, for instance,
+found it impossible to visit the Upper Thebaid, and Syene, and that
+"infinite multitude of monks, whose fashions of life no one would
+believe, for they surpass human life; who to this day raise the
+dead, and walk upon the waters, like Peter; and whatsoever the
+Saviour did by the holy Apostles, He does now by them.  But because
+it would be very dangerous if we went beyond Lyco" (Lycopolis?), on
+account of the inroad of robbers, he "could not see those saints."
+
+The holy men and women of whom he wrote, he says, he did not see
+without extreme toil; and seven times he and his companions were
+nearly lost.  Once they walked through the desert five days and
+nights, and were almost worn out by hunger and thirst.  Again, they
+fell on rough marshes, where the sedge pierced their feet, and
+caused intolerable pain, while they were almost killed with the
+cold.  Another time, they stuck in the mud up to their waists, and
+cried with David, "I am come into deep mire, where no ground is."
+Another time, they waded for four days through the flood of the Nile
+by paths almost swept away.  Another time they met robbers on the
+seashore, coming to Diolcos, and were chased by them for ten miles.
+Another time they were all but upset and drowned in crossing the
+Nile.  Another time, in the marshes of Mareotis, "where paper
+grows," they were cast on a little desert island, and remained three
+days and nights in the open air, amid great cold and showers, for it
+was the season of Epiphany.  The eighth peril, he says, is hardly
+worth mentioning--but once, when they went to Nitria, they came on a
+great hollow, in which many crocodiles had remained, when the waters
+retired from the fields.  Three of them lay along the bank; and the
+monks went up to them, thinking them dead, whereon the crocodiles
+rushed at them.  But when they called loudly on the Lord, "the
+monsters, as if turned away by an angel," shot themselves into the
+water; while they ran on to Nitria, meditating on the words of Job,
+"Seven times shall He deliver thee from trouble; and in the eighth
+there shall no evil touch thee."
+
+The great St. Athanasius, fleeing from persecution, had taken refuge
+among these monks.  He carried the report of their virtues to Treves
+in Gaul, and wrote a life of St. Antony, the perusal of which was a
+main agent in the conversion of St. Augustine.  Hilarion (a
+remarkable personage, whose history will be told hereafter) carried
+their report and their example likewise into Palestine; and from
+that time Judaea, desolate and seemingly accursed by the sin of the
+Jewish people, became once more the Holy Land; the place of
+pilgrimage; whose ruins, whose very soil, were kept sacred by
+hermits, the guardians of the footsteps of Christ.
+
+In Rome itself the news produced an effect which, to the thoughtful
+mind, is altogether tragical in its nobleness.  The Roman
+aristocracy was deprived of all political power; it had been
+decimated, too, with horrible cruelty only one generation before,
+{12} by Valentinian and his satellites, on the charges of
+profligacy, treason, and magic.  Mere rich men, they still lingered
+on, in idleness and luxury, without art, science, true civilization
+of any kind; followed by long trains of slaves; punishing a servant
+with three hundred stripes if he were too long in bringing hot
+water; weighing the fish, or birds, or dormice put on their tables,
+while secretaries stood by, with tablets to record all; hating
+learning as they hated poison; indulging at the baths in conduct
+which had best be left undescribed; and "complaining that they were
+not born among the Cimmerians, if amid their golden fans a fly
+should perch upon the silken fringes, or a slender ray of the sun
+should pierce through the awning;" while, if they "go any distance
+to see their estates in the country, or to hunt at a meeting
+collected for their amusement by others, they think that they have
+equalled the marches of Alexander or of Caesar."
+
+On the wives, widows, and daughters of men of this stamp--and not
+half their effeminacy and baseness, as the honest rough old soldier
+Ammianus Marcellinus describes it, has been told here--the news
+brought from Egypt worked with wondrous potency.
+
+Women of the highest rank awoke suddenly to the discovery that life
+was given them for nobler purposes than that of frivolous enjoyment
+and tawdry vanity.  Despising themselves; despising the husbands to
+whom they had been wedded in loveless marriages de convenance, whose
+infidelities they had too often to endure:  they, too, fled from a
+world which had sated and sickened them.  They freed their slaves;
+they gave away their wealth to found hospitals and to feed the poor;
+and in voluntary poverty and mean garments they followed such men as
+Jerome and Ruffinus across the seas, to visit the new found saints
+of the Egyptian desert, and to end their days, in some cases, in
+doleful monasteries in Palestine.  The lives of such women as those
+of the Anician house; the lives of Marcella and Furia, of Paula, of
+the Melanias, and the rest, it is not my task to write.  They must
+be told by a woman, not by a man.  We may blame those ladies, if we
+will, for neglecting their duties.  We may sneer, if we will, at the
+weaknesses--the aristocratic pride, the spiritual vanity--which we
+fancy that we discover.  We may lament--and in that we shall not be
+wrong--the influence which such men as Jerome obtained over them--
+the example and precursor of so much which has since then been
+ruinous to family and social life:  but we must confess that the
+fault lay not with the themselves, but with their fathers, husbands,
+and brothers; we must confess that in these women the spirit of the
+old Roman matrons, which seemed to have been so long dead, flashed
+up for one splendid moment, ere it sunk into the darkness of the
+Middle Age; that in them woman asserted (however strangely and
+fantastically) her moral equality with man; and that at the very
+moment when monasticism was consigning her to contempt, almost to
+abhorrence, as "the noxious animal," the "fragile vessel," the cause
+of man's fall at first, and of his sin and misery ever since, woman
+showed the monk (to his naively-confessed surprise), that she could
+dare, and suffer, and adore as well as he.
+
+But the movement, having once seized the Roman Empire, grew and
+spread irresistibly.  It was accepted, supported, preached,
+practised, by every great man of the time.  Athanasius, Basil,
+Chrysostom, Gregory of Nazianzen in the East, Jerome, Augustine,
+Ruffinus, Evagrius, Fulgentius, Sulpicius Severus, Vincent of
+Lerins, John Cassian, Martin of Tours, Salvian, Caesarius of Arles,
+were all monks, or as much of monks as their duties would allow them
+to be.  Ambrose of Milan, though no monk himself, was the fervent
+preacher of, the careful legislator for, monasticism male and
+female.  Throughout the whole Roman Empire, in the course of a
+century, had spread hermits (or dwellers in the desert), anchorites
+(retired from the world), or monks (dwellers alone).  The three
+names grew afterwards to designate three different orders of
+ascetics.  The hermits remained through the Middle Ages those who
+dwelt in deserts; the anchorites, or "ankers" of the English Middle
+Age, seem generally to have inhabited cells built in, or near, the
+church walls; the name of "monks" was transferred from those who
+dwelt alone to those who dwelt in regular communities, under a fixed
+government.  But the three names at first were interchangeable; the
+three modes of life alternated, often in the same man.  The life of
+all three was the same,--celibacy, poverty, good deeds towards their
+fellow-men; self-restraint, and sometimes self-torture of every
+kind, to atone (as far as might be) for the sins committed after
+baptism:  and the mental food of all three was the same likewise;
+continued meditation upon the vanity of the world, the sinfulness of
+the flesh, the glories of heaven, and the horrors of hell:  but with
+these the old hermits combined--to do them justice--a personal faith
+in God, and a personal love for Christ, which those who sneer at
+them would do well to copy.
+
+Over all Europe, even to Ireland, {15} the same pattern of Christian
+excellence repeated itself with strange regularity, till it became
+the only received pattern; and to "enter religion," or "be
+converted," meant simply to become a monk.
+
+Of the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few
+specimens are given in this volume.  If they shall seem to any
+reader uncouth, or even absurd, he must remember that they are the
+only existing and the generally contemporaneous histories of men who
+exercised for 1,300 years an enormous influence over the whole of
+Christendom; who exercise a vast influence over the greater part of
+it to this day.  They are the biographies of men who were regarded,
+during their lives and after their deaths, as divine and inspired
+prophets; and who were worshipped with boundless trust and
+admiration by millions of human beings.  Their fame and power were
+not created by the priesthood.  The priesthood rather leant on them,
+than they on it.  They occupied a post analogous to that of the old
+Jewish prophets; always independent of, sometimes opposed to, the
+regular clergy; and dependent altogether on public opinion and the
+suffrage of the multitude.  When Christianity, after three centuries
+of repression and persecution, emerged triumphant as the creed of
+the whole civilized world, it had become what their lives describe.
+The model of religious life for the fifth century, it remained a
+model for succeeding centuries; on the lives of St. Antony and his
+compeers were founded the whole literature of saintly biographies;
+the whole popular conception of the universe, and of man's relation
+to it; the whole science of daemonology, with its peculiar
+literature, its peculiar system of criminal jurisprudence.  And
+their influence did not cease at the Reformation among Protestant
+divines.  The influence of these Lives of the Hermit Fathers is as
+much traceable, even to style and language, in "The Pilgrim's
+Progress" as in the last Papal Allocution.  The great hermits of
+Egypt were not merely the founders of that vast monastic system
+which influenced the whole politics, and wars, and social life, as
+well as the whole religion, of the Middle Age; they were a school of
+philosophers (as they rightly called themselves) who altered the
+whole current of human thought.
+
+Those who wish for a general notion of the men, and of their time,
+will find all that they require (set forth from different points of
+view, though with the same honesty and learning) in Gibbon; in M. de
+Montalembert's "Moines d'Occident," in Dean Milman's "History of
+Christianity" and "Latin Christianity," and in Ozanam's "Etudes
+Germaniques." {17a}  But the truest notion of the men is to be got,
+after all, from the original documents; and especially from that
+curious collection of them by the Jesuit Rosweyde, commonly known as
+the "Lives of the Hermit Fathers." {17b}
+
+After an acquaintance of now five-and-twenty years with this
+wonderful treasury of early Christian mythology, to which all fairy
+tales are dull and meagre, I am almost inclined to sympathise with
+M. de Montalembert's questions,--"Who is so ignorant, or so
+unfortunate, as not to have devoured these tales of the heroic age
+of monachism?  Who has not contemplated, if not with the eyes of
+faith, at least with the admiration inspired by an incontrollable
+greatness of soul, the struggles of these athletes of penitence? . .
+. .  Everything is to be found there--variety, pathos, the sublime
+and simple epic of a race of men, naifs as children, and strong as
+giants."  In whatever else one may differ from M. de Montalembert--
+and it is always painful to differ from one whose pen has been
+always the faithful servant of virtue and piety, purity and
+chivalry, loyalty and liberty, and whose generous appreciation of
+England and the English is the more honourable to him, by reason of
+an utter divergence in opinion, which in less wide and noble spirits
+produces only antipathy--one must at least agree with him in his
+estimate of the importance of these "Lives of the Fathers," not only
+to the ecclesiologist, but to the psychologist and the historian.
+Their influence, subtle, often transformed and modified again and
+again, but still potent from its very subtleness, is being felt
+around us in many a puzzle--educational, social, political; and
+promises to be felt still more during the coming generation; and to
+have studied thoroughly one of them--say the life of St. Antony by
+St. Athanasius--is to have had in our hands (whether we knew it or
+not) the key to many a lock, which just now refuses either to be
+tampered with or burst open.
+
+I have determined, therefore, to give a few of these lives,
+translated as literally as possible.  Thus the reader will then have
+no reason to fear a garbled or partial account of personages so
+difficult to conceive or understand.  He will be able to see the men
+as wholes; to judge (according to his light) of their merits and
+their defects.  The very style of their biographers (which is copied
+as literally as is compatible with the English tongue) will teach
+him, if he be wise, somewhat of the temper and habits of thought of
+the age in which they lived; and one of these original documents,
+with its honesty, its vivid touches of contemporary manners, its
+intense earnestness, will give, perhaps, a more true picture of the
+whole hermit movement than (with all respect, be it said) the most
+brilliant general panorama.
+
+It is impossible to give in this series all the lives of the early
+hermits--even of those contained in Rosweyde.  This volume will
+contain, therefore, only the most important and most famous lives of
+the Egyptian, Syrian, and Persian hermits, followed, perhaps, by a
+few later biographies from Western Europe, as proofs that the
+hermit-type, as it spread toward the Atlantic, remained still the
+same as in the Egyptian desert.
+
+Against one modern mistake the reader must be warned; the theory,
+namely, that these biographies were written as religious romances;
+edifying, but not historical; to be admired, but not believed.
+There is not the slightest evidence that such was the case.  The
+lives of these, and most other saints (certainly those in this
+volume), were written by men who believed the stories themselves,
+after such inquiry into the facts as they deemed necessary; who knew
+that others would believe them; and who intended that they should do
+so; and the stones were believed accordingly, and taken as matter of
+fact for the most practical purposes by the whole of Christendom.
+The forging of miracles, like the forging of charters, for the
+honour of a particular shrine, or the advantage of a particular
+monastery, belongs to a much later and much worse age; and,
+whatsoever we may think of the taste of the authors of these lives,
+or of their faculty for judging of evidence, we must at least give
+them credit for being earnest men, incapable of what would have been
+in their eyes, and ought to be in ours, not merely falsehood, but
+impiety.  Let the reader be sure of this--that these documents would
+not have exercised their enormous influence on the human mind, had
+there not been in them, under whatever accidents of credulity, and
+even absurdity, an element of sincerity, virtue, and nobility.
+
+
+
+SAINT ANTONY
+
+
+
+The life of Antony, by Athanasius, is perhaps the most important of
+all these biographies; because first, Antony was generally held to
+be the first great example and preacher of the hermit life; because
+next, Athanasius, his biographer, having by his controversial
+writings established the orthodox faith as it is now held alike by
+Romanists, Greeks, and Protestants, did, by his publication of the
+life of Antony, establish the hermit life as the ideal (in his
+opinion) of Christian excellence; and lastly, because that biography
+exercised a most potent influence on the conversion of St.
+Augustine, the greatest thinker (always excepting St. Paul) whom the
+world had seen since Plato, whom the world was to see again till
+Lord Bacon; the theologian and philosopher (for he was the latter,
+as well as the former, in the strictest sense) to whom the world
+owes, not only the formulizing of the whole scheme of the universe
+for a thousand years after his death, but Calvinism (wrongly so
+called) in all its forms, whether held by the Augustinian party in
+the Church of Rome, or the "Reformed" Churches of Geneva, France,
+and Scotland.
+
+Whether we have the exact text of the document as Athanasius wrote
+it to the "Foreign Brethren"--probably the religious folk of Treves-
+-in the Greek version published by Heschelius in 1611, and in
+certain earlier Greek texts; whether the Latin translation
+attributed to Evagrius, which has been well known for centuries past
+in the Latin Church, be actually his; whether it be exactly that of
+which St. Jerome speaks, and whether it be exactly that which St.
+Augustine saw, are questions which it is now impossible to decide.
+But of the genuineness of the life in its entirety we have no right
+to doubt, contrary to the verdicts of the most distinguished
+scholars, whether Protestant or Catholic; and there is fair reason
+to suppose that the document (allowing for errors and variations of
+transcribers) which I have tried to translate, is that of which the
+great St. Augustine speaks in the eighth book of his Confessions.
+
+He tells us that he was reclaimed at last from a profligate life
+(the thought of honourable marriage seems never to have entered his
+mind), by meeting, while practising as a rhetorician at Treves, an
+old African acquaintance, named Potitanius, an officer of rank.
+What followed no words can express so well as those of the great
+genius himself.
+
+"When I told him that I was giving much attention to those writings
+(the Epistles of Paul), we began to talk, and he to tell, of Antony,
+the monk of Egypt, whose name was then very famous among thy
+servants:  {23} but was unknown to us till that moment.  When he
+discovered that, he spent some time over the subject, detailing his
+virtues, and wondering at our ignorance.  We were astounded at
+hearing such well-attested marvels of him, so recent and almost
+contemporaneous, wrought in the right faith of the Catholic Church.
+We all wondered:  we, that they were so great; and he, that we had
+not heard of them.  Thence his discourse ran on to those flocks of
+hermit-cells, and the morals of thy sweetness, and the fruitful
+deserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nought.  There was a
+monastery, too, at Milan, full of good brethren, outside the city
+walls, under the tutelage of Ambrosius, and we knew nothing of it.
+He went on still speaking, and we listened intently; and it befell
+that he told us how, I know not when, he and three of his mess
+companions at Treves, while the emperor was engaged in an afternoon
+spectacle in the circus, went out for a walk in the gardens round
+the walls; and as they walked there in pairs, one with him alone,
+and the two others by themselves, they parted.  And those two,
+straying about, burst into a cottage, where dwelt certain servants
+of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the kingdom of heaven; and
+there found a book, in which was written the life of Antony.  One of
+them began to read it, and to wonder, and to be warned; and, as he
+read, to think of taking up such a life, and leaving the warfare of
+this world to serve thee.  Now, he was one of those whom they call
+Managers of Affairs. {24}  Then, suddenly filled with holy love and
+sober shame, angered at himself, he cast his eyes on his friend, and
+said, 'Tell me, prithee, with all these labours of ours, whither are
+we trying to get?  What are we seeking?  For what are we soldiering?
+Can we have a higher hope in the palace, than to become friends of
+the emperor?  And when there, what is not frail and full of dangers?
+And through how many dangers we do not arrive at a greater danger
+still?  And how long will that last?  But if I choose to become a
+friend of God, I can do it here and now.'  He spoke thus, and,
+swelling in the labour-pangs of a new life, he fixed his eyes again
+on the pages and read, and was changed inwardly as thou lookedst on
+him, and his mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared.  For
+while he read, and rolled over the billows of his soul, he shuddered
+and hesitated from time to time, and resolved better things; and
+already thine, he said to his friend, 'I have already torn myself
+from that hope of ours, and have settled to serve God; and this I
+begin from this hour, in this very place.  If you do not like to
+imitate me, do not oppose me.'  He replied that he would cling to
+his companion in such a great service and so great a warfare.  And
+both, now thine, began building, at their own cost, the tower of
+leaving all things and following thee.  Then Potitianus, and the man
+who was talking with him elsewhere in the garden, seeking them, came
+to the same place, and warned them to return, as the sun was getting
+low.  They, however, told their resolution, and how it had sprung up
+and taken strong hold in them, and entreated the others not to give
+them pain.  They, not altered from their former mode of life, yet
+wept (as he told us) for themselves; and congratulated them piously,
+and commended themselves to their prayers; and then dragging their
+hearts along the earth, went back to the palace.  But the others,
+fixing their hearts on heaven, remained in the cottage.  And both of
+them had affianced brides, who, when they heard this, dedicated
+their virginity to thee."
+
+The part which this incident played in St. Augustine's own
+conversion must be told hereafter in his life.  But the scene which
+his master-hand has drawn is not merely the drama of his own soul or
+of these two young officers, but of a whole empire.  It is, as I
+said at first, the tragedy and suicide of the old empire; and the
+birth-agony of which he speaks was not that of an individual soul
+here or there, but of a whole new world, for good and evil.  The old
+Roman soul was dead within, the body of it dead without.
+Patriotism, duty, purpose of life, save pleasure, money, and
+intrigue, had perished.  The young Roman officer had nothing left
+for which to fight; the young Roman gentleman nothing left for which
+to be a citizen and an owner of lands.  Even the old Roman longing
+(which was also a sacred duty) of leaving an heir to perpetuate his
+name, and serve the state as his fathers had before him--even that
+was gone.  Nothing was left, with the many, but selfishness, which
+could rise at best into the desire of saving every man his own soul,
+and so transform worldliness into other-worldliness.  The old empire
+could do nothing more for man; and knew that it could do nothing;
+and lay down in the hermit's cell to die.
+
+Treves was then "the second metropolis of the empire," boasting,
+perhaps, even then, as it boasts still, that it was standing
+thirteen hundred years before Rome was built.  Amid the low hills,
+pierced by rocky dells, and on a strath of richest soil, it had
+grown, from the mud-hut town of the Treviri, into a noble city of
+palaces, theatres, baths, triumphal-arches, on either side the broad
+and clear Moselle.  The bridge which Augustus had thrown across the
+river, four hundred years before the times of hermits and of saints,
+stood like a cliff through all barbarian invasions, through all the
+battles and sieges of the Middle Age, till it was blown up by the
+French in the wars of Louis XIV., and nought remains save the huge
+piers of black lava stemming the blue stream; while up and down the
+dwindled city, the colossal fragments of Roman work--the Black Gate,
+the Heidenthurm, the baths, the Basilica or Hall of Justice, now a
+Lutheran church--stand out half ruined, like the fossil bones of
+giants amid the works of weaker, though of happier times; while the
+amphitheatre was till late years planted thick with vines, fattening
+in soil drenched with the blood of thousands.  Treves had been the
+haunt of emperor after emperor, men wise and strong, cruel and
+terrible;--of Constantius, Constantine the Great, Julian,
+Valentinian, Valens; and lastly, when Potitianus's friends found
+those poor monks in the garden {27} of Gratian, the gentle hunter
+who thought day and night on sport, till his arrows were said to be
+instinct with life, was holding his military court within the walls
+of Treves, or at that hunting palace on the northern downs, where
+still on the bath-floors lie the mosaics of hare and deer, and boar
+and hound, on which the feet of Emperors trod full fifteen hundred
+years ago.
+
+Still glorious outwardly, like the Roman empire itself, was that
+great city of Treves; but inwardly it was full of rottenness and
+weakness.  The Roman empire had been, in spite of all its crimes,
+for four hundred years the salt of the earth:  but now the salt had
+lost its savour; and in one generation more it would be trodden
+under foot and cast upon the dunghill, and another empire would take
+its place,--the empire, not of brute strength and self-indulgence,
+but of sympathy and self-denial,--an empire, not of Caesars, but of
+hermits.  Already was Gratian the friend and pupil of St. Ambrose of
+Milan; already, too, was he persecuting, though not to the death,
+heretics and heathens.  Nay, some fifty years before (if the legend
+can be in the least trusted) had St. Helena, the mother of
+Constantine the Great, returned from Palestine, bearing with her--so
+men believed--not only the miraculously discovered cross of Christ,
+but the seamless coat which he had worn; and, turning her palace
+into a church, deposited the holy coat therein:  where--so some
+believe--it remains until this day.  Men felt that a change was
+coming, but whence it would come, or how terrible it would be, they
+could not tell.  It was to be, as the prophet says, "like the
+bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth suddenly in an instant."
+In the very amphitheatre where Gratian sat that afternoon, with all
+the folk of Treves about him, watching, it may be, lions and
+antelopes from Africa slaughtered--it may be criminals tortured to
+death--another and an uglier sight had been twice seen some seventy
+years before.  Constantine, so-called the Great, had there exhibited
+his "Frankish sports," the "magnificent spectacle," the "famous
+punishments," as his flattering court-historians called them:
+thousands of Frank prisoners, many of them of noble, and even of
+royal blood, torn to pieces by wild beasts, while they stood
+fearless, smiling with folded arms; and when the wild beasts were
+gorged, and slew no more, weapons were put into the hands of the
+survivors, and they were bidden to fight to the death for the
+amusement of their Roman lords.  But fight they would not against
+their own flesh and blood:  and as for life, all chance of that was
+long gone by.  So every man fell joyfully upon his brother's sword,
+and, dying like a German man, spoilt the sport of the good folk of
+Treves.  And it seemed for a while as if there were no God in heaven
+who cared to avenge such deeds of blood.  For the kinsmen, it may be
+the very sons, of those Franks were now in Gratian's pay; and the
+Frank Merobaudes was his "Count of the Domestics," and one of his
+most successful and trusted generals; and all seemed to go well, and
+brute force and craft to triumph on the earth.
+
+And yet those two young staff officers, when they left the imperial
+court for the hermit's cell, judged, on the whole, prudently and
+well, and chose the better part when they fled from the world to
+escape the "dangers" of ambition, and the "greater danger still" of
+success.  For they escaped, not merely from vice and worldliness,
+but, as the event proved, from imminent danger of death if they kept
+the loyalty which they had sworn to their emperor; or the worse evil
+of baseness if they turned traitors to him to save their lives.
+
+For little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre, that the
+day was coming when he, the hunter of game--and of heretics--would
+be hunted in his turn; when, deserted by his army, betrayed by
+Merobaudes--whose elder kinsfolk were not likely to have kept him
+ignorant of "the Frankish sports "--he should flee pitiably towards
+Italy, and die by a German hand; some say near Lyons, some say near
+Belgrade, calling on Ambrose with his latest breath. {29}  Little
+thought, too, the good folk of Treves, as they sat beneath the vast
+awning that afternoon, that within the next half century a day of
+vengeance was coming for them, which should teach them that there
+was a God who "maketh inquisition for blood;" a day when Treves
+should be sacked in blood and flame by those very "barbarian"
+Germans whom they fancied their allies--or their slaves.  And least
+of all did they fancy that, when that great destruction fell upon
+their city, the only element in it which would pass safely through
+the fire and rise again, and raise their city to new glory and
+power, was that which was represented by those poor hermits in the
+garden-hut outside.  Little thought they that above the awful arches
+of the Black Gate--as if in mockery of the Roman Power--a lean
+anchorite would take his stand, Simeon of Syracuse by name, a monk
+of Mount Sinai, and there imitate, in the far West, the austerities
+of St. Simeon Stylites in the East, and be enrolled in the new
+Pantheon, not of Caesars, but of Saints.
+
+Under the supposed patronage of those Saints, Treves rose again out
+of its ruins.  It gained its four great abbeys of St. Maximus (on
+the site of Constantine's palace); St. Matthias, in the crypt
+whereof the bodies of the monks never decay; {30} St. Martin; and
+St. Mary of the Four Martyrs, where four soldiers of the famous
+Theban legion are said to have suffered martyrdom by the house of
+the Roman prefect.  It had its cathedral of St. Peter and St.
+Helena, supposed to be built out of St. Helena's palace; its
+exquisite Liebfrauenkirche; its palace of the old Archbishops,
+mighty potentates of this world, as well as of the kingdom of
+heaven.  For they were princes, arch-chancellors, electors of the
+empire, owning many a league of fertile land, governing, and that
+kindly and justly, towns and villages of Christian men, and now and
+then going out to war, at the head of their own knights and yeomen,
+in defence of their lands, and of the saints whose servants and
+trustees they were; and so became, according to their light and
+their means, the salt of that land for many generations.
+
+And after a while that salt, too, lost its savour, and was, in its
+turn, trodden under foot.  The French republican wars swept away the
+ecclesiastical constitution and the wealth of the ancient city.  The
+cathedral and churches were stripped of relics, of jewels, of
+treasures of early art.  The Prince-bishop's palace is a barrack; so
+was lately St. Maximus's shrine; St. Martin's a china manufactory,
+and St. Matthias's a school.  Treves belongs to Prussia, and not to
+"Holy Church;" and all the old splendours of the "empire of the
+saints" are almost as much ruinate as those of the "empire of the
+Romans."  So goes the world, because there is a living God.
+
+
+"The old order changeth, giving place to the new;
+And God fulfils himself in many ways,
+Lest one good custom should corrupt the world."
+
+
+But though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens outside
+still bloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered through them,
+perpetual as Nature's self; and perpetual as Nature, too, endures
+whatever is good and true of that afternoon's work, and of that
+finding of the legend of St. Antony in the monk's cabin, which fixed
+the destiny of the great genius of the Latin Church.
+
+The story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, {32} runs
+thus:--
+
+
+The life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written and
+sent to the monks in foreign parts by our Father among the saints,
+Athanasius, Archbishop of Alexandria.
+
+You have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having
+determined either to equal or even to surpass them in your training
+towards virtue; for there are monasteries already among you, and the
+monastic life is practised.  This purpose of yours one may justly
+praise; and if you pray, God will bring it to perfection.  But since
+you have also asked me about the conversation of the holy Antony,
+wishing to learn how he began his training, and who he was before
+it, and what sort of an end he made to his life, and whether what is
+said of him is true, in order that you may bring yourselves to
+emulate him, with great readiness I received your command.  For to
+me, too, it is a great gain and benefit only to remember Antony; and
+I know that you, when you hear of him, after you have wondered at
+the man, will wish also to emulate his purpose.  For the life of
+Antony is for monks a perfect pattern of ascetic training.  What,
+then, you have heard about him from other informants do not
+disbelieve, but rather think that you have heard from them a small
+part of the facts.  For in any case, they could hardly relate fully
+such great matters, when even I, at your request, howsoever much I
+may tell you in my letter, can only send you a little which I
+remember about him.  But do not cease to inquire of those who sail
+from hence; for perhaps, if each tells what he knows, at last his
+history may be worthily compiled.  I had wished, indeed, when I
+received your letter, to send for some of the monks who were wont to
+be most frequently in his company, that I might learn something
+more, and send you a fuller account.  But since both the season of
+navigation limited me, and the letter-carrier was in haste, I
+hastened to write to your piety what I myself know (for I have often
+seen him), and what I was able to learn from one who followed him
+for no short time, and poured water upon his hands; always taking
+care of the truth, in order that no one when he hears too much may
+disbelieve, nor again, if he learns less than is needful, despise
+the man.
+
+Antony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, {33} who had
+a sufficient property of their own:  and as they were Christians, he
+too was Christianly brought up, and when a boy was nourished in the
+house of his parents, besides whom and his home he knew nought.  But
+when he grew older, he would not be taught letters, {34} not wishing
+to mix with other boys; but all his longing was (according to what
+is written of Jacob) to dwell simply in his own house.  But when his
+parents took him into the Lord's house, he was not saucy, like a
+boy, nor inattentive as he grew older; but was subject to his
+parents, and attentive to what was read, turning it to his own
+account.  Nor again (as a boy who was moderately well off) did he
+trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties, nor did he
+run after the pleasures of this life; but was content with what he
+found, and asked for nothing more.  When his parents died, he was
+left alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or
+twenty years of age, and took care both of his house and of her.
+But not six months after their death, as he was going as usual to
+the Lord's house, and collecting his thoughts, he meditated as he
+walked how the Apostles had left all and followed the Saviour; and
+how those in the Acts brought the price of what they had sold, and
+laid it at the Apostles' feet, to be given away to the poor; and
+what and how great a hope was laid up for them in heaven.  With this
+in his mind, he entered the church.  And it befell then that the
+Gospel was being read; and he heard how the Lord had said to the
+rich man, "If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou hast, and give
+to the poor; and come, follow me, and thou shalt have treasure in
+heaven."  Antony, therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints had
+come to him from God, and as if the lesson had been read on his
+account, went forth at once from the Lord's house, and gave away to
+those of his own village the possessions he had inherited from his
+ancestors (three hundred plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that
+they might give no trouble either to him or his sister.  All his
+moveables he sold, and a considerable sum which he received for them
+he gave to the poor.  But having kept back a little for his sister,
+when he went again into the Lord's house he heard the Lord saying in
+the Gospel, "Take no thought for the morrow," and, unable to endure
+any more delay, he went out and distributed that too to the needy.
+And having committed his sister to known and faithful virgins, and
+given to her wherewith to be educated in a nunnery, he himself
+thenceforth devoted himself, outside his house, to training; {35}
+taking heed to himself, and using himself severely.  For monasteries
+were not then common in Egypt, nor did any monks at all know the
+wide desert; but each who wished to take heed to himself exercised
+himself alone, not far from his own village.  There was then in the
+next village an old man, who had trained himself in a solitary life
+from his youth.  When Antony saw him, he emulated him in that which
+is noble.  And first he began to stay outside the village; and then,
+if he heard of any earnest man, he went to seek him, like a wise
+bee; and did not return till he had seen him, and having got from
+him (as it were) provision for his journey toward virtue, went his
+way.  So dwelling there at first, he settled his mind neither to
+look back towards his parents' wealth nor to recollect his
+relations; but he put all his longing and all his earnestness on
+training himself more intensely.  For the rest he worked with his
+hands, because he had heard, "If any man will not work, neither let
+him eat;" and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some on
+the needy.  He prayed continually, because he knew that one ought to
+pray secretly, without ceasing.  He attended, also, so much to what
+was read, that, with him, none of the Scriptures fell to the ground,
+but he retained them all, and for the future his memory served him
+instead of books.  Behaving thus, Antony was beloved by all; and
+submitted truly to the earnest men to whom he used to go.  And from
+each of them he learnt some improvement in his earnestness and his
+training:  he contemplated the courtesy of one, and another's
+assiduity in prayer; another's freedom from anger; another's love of
+mankind:  he took heed to one as he watched; to another as he
+studied:  one he admired for his endurance, another for his fasting
+and sleeping on the ground; he laid to heart the meekness of one,
+and the long-suffering of another; and stamped upon his memory the
+devotion to Christ and the mutual love which all in common
+possessed.  And thus filled full, he returned to his own place of
+training, gathering to himself what he had got from each, and
+striving to show all their qualities in himself.  He never emulated
+those of his own age, save in what is best; and did that so as to
+pain no one, but make all rejoice over him.  And all in the village
+who loved good, seeing him thus, called him the friend of God; and
+some embraced him as a son, some as a brother.
+
+But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure
+such a purpose in a youth:  but attempted against him all that he is
+wont to do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care
+for his sister, relation to his kindred, love of money, love of
+glory, the various pleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of
+life; and then the harshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the
+weakness of his body, and the length of time; and altogether raised
+a great dust-cloud of arguments in his mind, trying to turn him back
+from his righteous choice.  But when the enemy saw himself to be too
+weak for Antony's determination, but rather baffled by his
+stoutness, and overthrown by his great faith, and falling before his
+continual prayers, then he attacked him with the temptations which
+he is wont to use against young men; . . . . but he protected his
+body with faith, prayers, and fastings, . . . setting his thoughts
+on Christ, and on his own nobility through Christ, and on the
+rational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on the terrors of
+the fire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus escaped
+unhurt.  And thus was the enemy brought to shame.  For he who
+thought himself to be equal with God was now mocked by a youth; and
+he who boasted against flesh and blood was defeated by a man clothed
+in flesh.  For the Lord worked with him, who bore flesh on our
+account, and gave to the body victory over the devil, that each man
+in his battle may say, "Not I, but the grace of God which is with
+me."  At last, when the dragon could not overthrow Antony even thus,
+but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then gnashing his teeth (as
+is written), and as if beside himself, he appeared to the sight, as
+he is to the reason, as a black child, and as it were falling down
+before him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver was cast
+out), but using a human voice, said, "I have deceived many; I have
+cast down many.  But now, as in the case of many, so in thine, I
+have been worsted in the battle."  Then when Antony asked him, "Who
+art thou who speakest thus to me?" he forthwith replied in a
+pitiable voice, "I am the spirit of impurity.". . .
+
+Then Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said, "Thou art
+utterly despicable; for thou art black of soul, and weak as a child;
+nor shall I henceforth cast one thought on thee.  For the Lord is my
+helper, and I shall despise my enemies."  That black being, hearing
+this, fled forthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid thenceforth
+of coming near the man.
+
+This was Antony's first struggle against the devil:  or rather this
+mighty deed in him was the Saviour's, who condemned sin in the flesh
+that the righteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in us, who
+walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.  But neither did
+Antony, because the daemon had fallen, grow careless and despise
+him; neither did the enemy, when worsted by him, cease from lying in
+ambush against him.  For he came round again as a lion, seeking a
+pretence against him.  But Antony had learnt from Scripture that
+many are the devices of the enemy; and continually kept up his
+training, considering that, though he had not deceived his heart by
+pleasure, he would try some other snares.  For the daemon delights
+in sin.  Therefore he chastised his body more and more, and brought
+it into slavery, lest, having conquered in one case, he should be
+tripped up in others.  He determined, therefore, to accustom himself
+to a still more severe life; and many wondered at him:  but the
+labour was to him easy to bear.  For the readiness of the spirit,
+through long usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking
+a very slight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.
+For he watched so much, that he often passed the whole night without
+sleep; and that not once, but often, to the astonishment of men.  He
+ate once a day, after the setting of the sun, and sometimes only
+once in two days, often even in four; his food was bread with salt,
+his drink nothing but water.  To speak of flesh and wine there is no
+need, for such a thing is not found among other earnest men.  When
+he slept he was content with a rush-mat:  but mostly he lay on the
+bare ground.  He would not anoint himself with oil, saying that it
+was more fit for young men to be earnest in training, than to seek
+things which softened the body; and that they must accustom
+themselves to labour, according to the Apostle's saying, "When I am
+weak, then I am strong;" for that the mind was strengthened as
+bodily pleasure was weakened.  And this argument of his was truly
+wonderful.  For he did not measure the path of virtue, nor his going
+away into retirement on account of it, by time; but by his own
+desire and will.  So forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning
+afresh, took more pains to improve, saying over to himself
+continually the Apostle's words, "Forgetting what is behind,
+stretching forward to what is before;" and mindful, too, of Elias'
+speech, "The Lord liveth, before whom I stand this day."  For he
+held, that by mentioning to-day, he took no account of past time:
+but, as if he were laying down a beginning, he tried earnestly to
+make himself day by day fit to appear before God, pure in heart, and
+ready to obey his will, and no other.  And he said in himself that
+the ascetic ought for ever to be learning his own life from the
+manners of the great Elias, as from a mirror.  Antony, having thus,
+as it were, bound himself, went to the tombs, which happened to be
+some way from the village; and having bidden one of his
+acquaintances to bring him bread at intervals of many days, he
+entered one of the tombs, and, shutting the door upon himself,
+remained there alone.  But the enemy, not enduring that, but rather
+terrified lest in a little while he should fill the desert with his
+training, coming one night with a multitude of daemons, beat him so
+much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture.  For he
+asserted that the pain was so great that no blows given by men could
+cause such agony.  But by the providence of God (for the Lord does
+not overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance
+came, bringing him the loaves.  And having opened the door, and
+seeing him lying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the
+Lord's house in the village, and laid him on the ground; and many of
+his kinsfolk and the villagers sat round him, as round a corpse.
+But about midnight, Antony coming to himself, and waking up, saw
+them all sleeping, and only his acquaintance awake, and, nodding to
+him to approach, begged him to carry him back to the tombs, without
+waking any one.  When that was done, the doors were shut, and he
+remained as before, alone inside.  And, because he could not stand
+on account of the daemons' blows, he prayed prostrate.  And after
+his prayer, he said with a shout, "Here am I, Antony:  I do not fly
+from your stripes; yea, if you do yet more, nothing shall separate
+me from the love of Christ."  And then he sang, "If an host be laid
+against me, yet shall not my heart be afraid."  Thus thought and
+spoke the man who was training himself.  But the enemy, hater of
+what is noble, and envious, wondering that he dared to return after
+the stripes, called together his dogs, and bursting with rage,--"Ye
+see," he said, "that we have not stopped this man by the spirit of
+impurity; nor by blows:  but he is even growing bolder against us.
+Let us attack him some other way." {41}  For it is easy for the
+devil to invent schemes of mischief.  So then in the night they made
+such a crash, that the whole place seemed shaken, and the daemons,
+as if breaking in the four walls of the room, seemed to enter
+through them, changing themselves into the shapes of beasts and
+creeping things; {42} and the place was forthwith filled with shapes
+of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, and snakes, asps, scorpions, and
+wolves, and each of them moved according to his own fashion.  The
+lion roared, longing to attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent
+did not cease creeping, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether
+the noises of all the apparitions were dreadful, and their tempers
+cruel.  But Antony, scourged and pierced by them, felt a more
+dreadful bodily pain than before:  but he lay unshaken and awake in
+spirit.  He groaned at the pain of his body:  but clear in
+intellect, and as it were mocking, he said, "If there were any power
+in you, it were enough that one of you should come on; but since the
+Lord has made you weak, therefore you try to frighten me by mere
+numbers.  And a proof of your weakness is, that you imitate the
+shapes of brute animals."  And taking courage, he said again, "If ye
+can, and have received power against me, delay not, but attack; but
+if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain?  For a seal to us and a
+wall of safety is our faith in the Lord."  The daemons, having made
+many efforts, gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked
+at them, than they at him.  But neither then did the Lord forget
+Antony's wrestling, but appeared to help him.  For, looking up, he
+saw the roof as it were opened and a ray of light coming down
+towards him.  The daemons suddenly became invisible, and the pain of
+his body forthwith ceased, and the building became quite whole.  But
+Antony, feeling the succour, and getting his breath again, and freed
+from pain, questioned the vision which appeared, saying, "Where wert
+thou?  Why didst thou not appear to me from the first, to stop my
+pangs?"  And a voice came to him, "Antony, I was here, but I waited
+to see thy fight.  Therefore, since thou hast withstood, and not
+been worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and will make thee
+become famous everywhere."  Hearing this, he rose and prayed, and
+was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his body than
+he had before.  He was then about thirty-and-five years old.  And on
+the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to God;
+and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with him
+in the desert.  But when he declined, because of his age, and
+because no such custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set
+off to the mountain.  But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness,
+and wishing to hinder it, cast in his way the phantom of a great
+silver plate.  But Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates
+what is noble, stopped.  And he judged the plate worthless, seeing
+the devil in it; and said, "Whence comes a plate in the desert?
+This is no beaten way, nor is there here the footstep of any
+traveller.  Had it fallen, it could not have been unperceived, from
+its great size; and besides, he who lost it would have turned back
+and found it, because the place is desert.  This is a trick of the
+devil.  Thou shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by this:  let
+it go with thee into perdition."  And as Antony said that, it
+vanished, as smoke from before the face of the fire.  Then again he
+saw, not this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he
+came up.  But whether the enemy showed it him, or whether some
+better power, which was trying the athlete, and showing the devil
+that he did not care for real wealth; neither did he tell, nor do we
+know, save that it was real gold.  Antony, wondering at the
+abundance of it, so stepped over it as over fire, and so passed it
+by, that he never turned, but ran on in haste, until he had lost
+sight of the place.  And growing even more and more intense in his
+determination, he rushed up the mountain, and finding an empty
+inclosure full of creeping things on account of its age, he betook
+himself across the river, and dwelt in it.  The creeping things, as
+if pursued by some one, straightway left the place:  but he blocked
+up the entry, having taken with him loaves for six months (for the
+Thebans do this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and
+having water with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that
+monastery, {44} he remained alone, never going forth, and never
+looking at any one who came.  Thus he passed a long time there
+training himself, and only twice a year received loaves, let down
+from above through the roof.  But those of his acquaintance who came
+to him, as they often remained days and nights outside (for he did
+not allow any one to enter), used to hear as it were crowds inside
+clamouring, thundering, lamenting, crying--"Depart from our ground.
+What dost thou even in the desert?  Thou canst not abide our onset."
+At first those without thought that there were some men fighting
+with him, and that they had got in by ladders:  but when, peeping in
+through a crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that
+they were daemons, and being terrified, called themselves on Antony.
+But he rather listened to them than cared for the others.  For his
+acquaintances came up continually, expecting to find him dead, and
+heard him singing, "Let the Lord arise, and his enemies shall be
+scattered; and let them who hate him flee before him.  As wax melts
+from before the face of the fire, so shall sinners perish from
+before the face of God."  And again, "All nations compassed me round
+about, and in the name of the Lord I repelled them."  He endured
+then for twenty years, thus training himself alone; neither going
+forth, nor seen by any one for long periods of time.  But after
+this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his training,
+and others who knew him came, and were bursting in the door by
+force, Antony came forth as from some inner shrine, initiated into
+the mysteries, and bearing the God. {45}  And then first he appeared
+out of the inclosure to those who were coming to him.  And when they
+saw him they wondered; for his body had kept the same habit, and had
+neither grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by fighting with
+the daemons.  For he was just such as they had known him before his
+retirement.  They wondered again at the purity of his soul, because
+it was neither contracted as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure,
+nor possessed by laughter or by depression; for he was neither
+troubled at beholding the crowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted by
+too many; but was altogether equal, as being governed by reason, and
+standing on that which is according to nature.  Many sufferers in
+body who were present did the Lord heal by him; and others he purged
+from daemons.  And he gave to Antony grace in speaking, so that he
+comforted many who grieved, and reconciled others who were at
+variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing in the world to the love
+of Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to be mindful of the
+good things to come, and of the love of God towards us, who spared
+not his own son, but delivered him up for us all.  He persuaded many
+to choose the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells sprang up in
+the mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who went forth
+from their own, and registered themselves in the city which is in
+heaven.
+
+And when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the need was
+the superintendence of the brethren), the canal was full of
+crocodiles.  And having only prayed, he entered it; and both he and
+all who were with him went through it unharmed.  But when he
+returned to the cell, he persisted in the noble labours of his
+youth; and by continued exhortations he increased the willingness of
+those who were already monks, and stirred to love of training the
+greater number of the rest; and quickly, as his speech drew men on,
+the cells became more numerous; and he governed them all as a
+father.  And when he had gone forth one day, and all the monks had
+come to him desiring to hear some word from him, he spake to them in
+the Egyptian tongue, thus--"That the Scriptures were sufficient for
+instruction, but that it was good for us to exhort each other in the
+faith." . . .
+
+[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the
+earliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science daemonology and
+the temptation of daemons:  but its involved and rhetorical form
+proves sufficiently that it could not have been delivered by an
+unlettered man like Antony.  Neither is it, probably, even composed
+by St. Athanasius; it seems rather, like several other passages in
+this biography, the interpolation of some later scribe.  It has
+been, therefore, omitted.]
+
+And when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the love
+of virtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up, and in
+others conceit stopped, while all were persuaded to despise the
+plots of the devil, wondering at the grace which had been given to
+Antony by the Lord for the discernment of spirits.  So the cells in
+the mountains were like tents filled with divine choirs, singing,
+discoursing, fasting, praying, rejoicing over the hope of the
+future, working that they might give alms thereof, and having love
+and concord with each other.  And there was really to be seen, as it
+were, a land by itself, of piety and justice; for there was none
+there who did wrong, or suffered wrong:  no blame from any
+talebearer:  but a multitude of men training themselves, and in all
+of them a mind set on virtue.  So that any one seeing the cells, and
+such an array of monks, would have cried out, and said, "How fair
+are thy dwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel; like shady
+groves and like parks beside a river, and like tents which the Lord
+hath pitched, and like cedars by the waters."  He himself,
+meanwhile, withdrawing, according to his custom, alone to his own
+cell, increased the severity of his training.  And he groaned daily,
+considering the mansions in heaven, and setting his longing on them,
+and looking at the ephemeral life of man.  For even when he was
+going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he considered the
+rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was about to
+eat with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and
+declined, and went far away from them; thinking that he should blush
+if he was seen by others eating.  He ate, nevertheless, by himself,
+on account of the necessities of the body; and often, too, with the
+brethren, being bashful with regard to them, but plucking up heart
+for the sake of saying something that might be useful; and used to
+tell them that they ought to give all their leisure rather to the
+soul than to the body; and that they should grant a very little time
+to the body, for mere necessity's sake:  but that their whole
+leisure should be rather given to the soul, and should seek her
+profit, that she may not be drawn down by the pleasures of the body,
+but rather the body be led captive by her.  For this (he said) was
+what was spoken by the Saviour, "Be not anxious for your soul, what
+ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall put on.  And seek not
+what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither let your minds
+be in suspense:  for after all these things the nations of the world
+seek:  but your Father knoweth that ye need all these things.
+Rather seek first his kingdom; and all these things shall be added
+unto you."
+
+After these things, the persecution which happened under the
+Maximinus of that time, {49} laid hold of the Church; and when the
+holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria, Antony too followed,
+leaving his cell, and saying, "Let us depart too, that we may
+wrestle if we be called, or see them wrestling."  And he longed to
+be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to give himself up, he
+ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the prisons.  And
+he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the readiness of
+those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and bring on
+their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to
+martyrdom.  At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and
+earnestness of him and those who were with him, commanded that none
+of the monks should appear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in
+the city.  So all the rest thought good to hide themselves that day;
+but Antony cared so much for the order, that he all the rather
+washed his cloak, and stood next day upon a high place, and appeared
+to the General in shining white.  Therefore, when all the rest
+wondered, and the General saw him, and passed by with his array, he
+stood fearless, showing forth the readiness of us Christians.  For
+he himself prayed to be a martyr, as I have said, and was like one
+grieved, because he had not borne his witness.  But the Lord was
+preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he might
+become a teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from
+Scripture.  For many, when they only saw his manner of life, were
+eager to emulate it.  So he again ministered continually to the
+confessors; and, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his
+services.  And when at last the persecution ceased, and the blessed
+Bishop Peter had been martyred, he left the city, and went back to
+his cell.  And he was there, day by day, a martyr in his conscience,
+and wrestling in the conflict of faith; for he imposed on himself a
+much more severe training than before; and his garment was within of
+hair, without of skin, which he kept till his end.  He neither
+washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his feet, nor actually
+endured putting them into water unless it were necessary.  And no
+one ever saw him unclothed till he was dead and about to be buried.
+
+When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth
+himself, nor to receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of
+soldiers, came and gave trouble to Antony.  For he had with him his
+daughter, who was tormented by a daemon.  And while he remained a
+long time knocking at the door, and expecting him to come to pray to
+God for the child, Antony could not bear to open, but leaning from
+above, said, "Man, why criest thou to me?  I, too, am a man, as thou
+art.  But if thou believest, pray to God, and it comes to pass."
+Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ; and went
+away, with his daughter cleansed from the daemon.  And many other
+things the Lord did by him, saying, "Ask, and it shall be given
+you."  For most of the sufferers, when he did not open the door,
+only sat down outside the cell, and believing, and praying honestly,
+were cleansed.  But when he saw himself troubled by many, and not
+being permitted to retire, as he wished, being afraid lest he
+himself should be puffed up by what the Lord was doing by him, or
+lest others should count of him above what he was, he resolved to go
+to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew him not.  And, in fact,
+having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat down on the bank of
+the river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might embark and go
+up in it.  And as he watched, a voice came to him:  "Antony, whither
+art thou going, and why?"  And he, not terrified, but as one
+accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it,
+"Because the crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I
+minded to go up to the Upper Thebaid, on account of the many
+annoyances which befall me; and, above all, because they ask of me
+things beyond my strength."  And the voice said to him, "Even if
+thou goest up to the Thebaid, even if, as thou art minded to do,
+thou goest down the cattle pastures, {52a} thou wilt have to endure
+more, and double trouble; but if thou wilt really be at rest, go now
+into the inner desert."  And when Antony said, "Who will show me the
+way, for I have not tried it?" forthwith it showed him Saracens who
+were going to journey that road.  So, going to them, and drawing
+near them, Antony asked leave to depart with them into the desert.
+But they, as if by an ordinance of Providence, willingly received
+him; and, journeying three days and three nights with them, he came
+to a very high mountain; {52b} and there was water under the
+mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold; and a plain outside; and a
+few neglected date-palms.  Then Antony, as if stirred by God, loved
+the spot; for this it was what he had pointed out who spoke to him
+beside the river bank.  At first, then, having received bread from
+those who journeyed with him, he remained alone in the mount, no one
+else being with him.  For he recognised that place as his own home,
+and kept it thenceforth.  And the Saracens themselves, seeing
+Antony's readiness, came that way on purpose, and joyfully brought
+him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of the dates, which was then
+little and paltry.  But after this, the brethren, having found out
+the spot, like children remembering their father, were anxious to
+send things to him; but Antony saw that, in bringing him bread, some
+there were put to trouble and fatigue; and, sparing the monks even
+in that, took counsel with himself, and asked some who came to him
+to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and when these
+were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he found
+a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having
+plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by
+year, he got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be
+troublesome to no one on that account, and that he was keeping
+himself free from obligation in all things.  But after this, seeing
+again some people coming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that
+he who came might have some small solace after the labour of that
+hard journey.  At first, however, the wild beasts in the desert,
+coming on account of the water, often hurt his crops and his
+tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one of them, said to them
+all, "Why do you hurt me, who have not hurt you?  Depart, and, in
+the name of the Lord, never come near this place."  And from that
+time forward, as if they were afraid of his command, they never came
+near the place.  So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having
+leisure for prayer and for training.  But the brethren who
+ministered to him asked him that, coming every month, they might
+bring him olives, and pulse, and oil; for, after all, he was old.
+And while he had his conversation there, what great wrestlings he
+endured, according to that which is written, "Not against flesh and
+blood, but against the daemons who are our adversaries," we have
+known from those who went in to him.  For there also they heard
+tumults, and many voices, and clashing as of arms; and they beheld
+the mount by night full of wild beasts, and they looked on him, too,
+fighting, as it were, with beings whom he saw, and praying against
+them.  And those who came to him he bade be of good courage, but he
+himself wrestled, bending his knees, and praying to the Lord.  And
+it was truly worthy of wonder that, alone in such a desert, he was
+neither cowed by the daemons who beset him, nor, while there were
+there so many four-footed and creeping beasts, was at all afraid of
+their fierceness:  but, as is written, trusted in the Lord like the
+Mount Zion, having his reason unshaken and untost; so that the
+daemons rather fled, and the wild beasts, as is written, were at
+peace with him.
+
+Nevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and gnashed
+upon him with his teeth.  But Antony was comforted by the Saviour,
+remaining unhurt by his craft and manifold artifices.  For on him,
+when he was awake at night, he let loose wild beasts; and almost all
+the hyaenas in that desert, coming out of their burrows, beset him
+round, and he was in the midst.  And when each gaped on him and
+threatened to bite him, perceiving the art of the enemy, he said to
+them all, "If ye have received power against me, I am ready to be
+devoured by you:  but if ye have been set on by daemons, delay not,
+but withdraw, for I am a servant of Christ."  When Antony said this,
+they fled, pursued by his words as by a whip.  Next after a few
+days, as he was working--for he took care, too, to labour--some one
+standing at the door pulled the plait that he was working.  For he
+was weaving baskets, which he used to give to those who came, in
+return for what they brought him.  And rising up, he saw a beast,
+like a man down to his thighs, but having legs and feet like an ass;
+and Antony only crossed himself and said, "I am a servant of Christ.
+If thou hast been sent against me, behold, here I am."  And the
+beast with its daemons fled away, so that in its haste it fell and
+died.  Now the death of the beast was the fall of the daemons.  For
+they were eager to do everything to bring him back out of the
+desert, but could not prevail.
+
+And being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit
+awhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came
+to meet him.  And a camel carried their loaves and their water; for
+that desert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water unless in
+that mountain alone whence they drew their water, and where his cell
+is.  But when the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most
+intense, they all began to be in danger; for going round to various
+places, and finding no water, they could walk no more, but lay down
+on the ground, and they let the camel go, and gave themselves up.
+But the old man, seeing them all in danger, was utterly grieved, and
+groaned; and departing a little way from them, and bending his knees
+and stretching out his hands, he prayed, and forthwith the Lord
+caused water to come out where he had stopped and prayed.  And thus
+all of them drinking took breath again; and having filled their
+skins, they sought the camel, and found her; for it befell that the
+halter had been twisted round a stone, and thus she had been
+stopped.  So, having brought her back, and given her to drink, they
+put the skins on her, and went through their journey unharmed.  And
+when they came to the outer cells all embraced him, looking on him
+as a father.  And he, as if he brought them guest-gifts from the
+mountain, gave them away to them in his words, and shared his
+benefits among them.  And there was joy again in the mountains, and
+zeal for improvement, and comfort through their faith in each other.
+And he too rejoiced, seeing the willingness of the monks, and his
+sister grown old in maidenhood, and herself the leader of other
+virgins.  And so after certain days he went back again to the
+mountain.
+
+And after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared also
+to come.  Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually
+this command:  To trust in the Lord and love him, and to keep
+themselves from foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and, as is
+written in the Parables, not to be deceived by fulness of bread; and
+to avoid vainglory; and to pray continually; and to sing before
+sleep and after sleep; and to lay by in their hearts the commandment
+of Scripture; and to remember the works of the saints, in order to
+have their souls attuned to emulate them.  But especially he
+counselled them to meditate continually on the Apostle's saying,
+"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath;" and this he said was
+spoken of all commandments in common, in order that not on wrath
+alone, but on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it
+was noble and necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a
+baseness by day, nor the moon for a sin or even a thought by night;
+therefore, in order that that which is noble may be preserved in us,
+it was good to hear and to keep what the Apostle commanded:  for he
+said:  "Judge yourselves, and prove yourselves."  Let each then take
+account with himself, day by day, of his daily and nightly deeds;
+and if he has not sinned, let him not boast, but let him endure in
+what is good and not be negligent, neither condemn his neighbour,
+neither justify himself, as said the blessed Apostle Paul, until the
+Lord comes who searches secret things.  For we often deceive
+ourselves in what we do, and we indeed know not:  but the Lord
+comprehends all.  Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us
+sympathise with each other; and let us bear each other's burdens,
+and examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to
+fill up.  And let this, too, be my counsel for safety against
+sinning.  Let us each note and write down the deeds and motions of
+the soul as if he were about to relate them to each other; and be
+confident that, as we shall be utterly ashamed that they should be
+known, we shall cease from sinning, and even from desiring anything
+mean.  For who when he sins wishes to be harmed thereby?  Or who,
+having sinned, does not rather lie, wishing to hide it?  As
+therefore when in each other's sight we dare not commit a crime, so
+if we write down our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we shall
+keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they
+should be known. . . .  And thus forming ourselves we shall be able
+to bring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on the one hand,
+and on the other trample on the snares of the enemy."  This was his
+exhortation to those who met him:  but with those who suffered he
+suffered, and prayed with them.  And often and in many things the
+Lord heard him; and neither when he was heard did he boast; nor when
+he was not heard did he murmur:  but, remaining always the same,
+gave thanks to the Lord.  And those who suffered he exhorted to keep
+up heart, and to know that the power of cure was none of his, nor of
+any man's; but only belonged to God, who works when and whatsoever
+he chooses.  So the sufferers received this as a remedy, learning
+not to despise the old man's words, but rather to keep up heart; and
+those who were cured learned not to bless Antony, but God alone.
+
+For instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace, and had
+a grievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and tried to
+injure his eyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony to pray for
+him.  And when he had prayed he said to Fronto, "Depart, and be
+healed."  And when he resisted, and remained within some days,
+Antony continued saying, "Thou canst not be healed if thou remainest
+here; go forth, and as soon as thou enterest Egypt, thou shalt see
+the sign which shall befall thee."  He, believing, went forth; and
+as soon as he only saw Egypt he was freed from his disease, and
+became sound according to the word of Antony, which he had learnt by
+prayer from the Saviour . . .
+
+[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint:  which
+need not be translated.]
+
+But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on
+the journey, one of them died, and the other was about to die.  In
+fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground
+expecting death.  But Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two
+monks who happened to be there, and hastened them, saying, "Take a
+pitcher of water, and run on the road towards Egypt; for of two who
+are coming hither one has just expired, and the other will do so if
+you do not hasten.  For this has been showed to me as I prayed."  So
+the monks going found the one lying dead, and buried him; and the
+other they recovered with the water, and brought him to the old man.
+Now the distance was a day's journey.  But if any one should ask why
+he did not speak before one of them expired, he does not question
+rightly; for the judgment of that death did not belong to Antony,
+but to God, who both judged concerning the one; and revealed
+concerning the other.  But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that
+sitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord
+showed him things afar off.
+
+For once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he saw some
+one carried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who met him.
+Then wondering, and blessing such a choir, he prayed to be taught
+what that might be; and straightway a voice came to him that this
+was the soul of Ammon, the monk in Nitria, {60} who had persevered
+as an ascetic to his old age; and the distance from Nitria to the
+mountain where Antony was, is thirteen days' journey.  Those then
+who were with Antony, seeing the old man wondering, asked the
+reason, and heard that Ammon had just expired, for he was known to
+them on account of his having frequently come thither, and many
+signs having been worked by him, of which this is one. . . .
+
+[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of Ammon's being
+miraculously carried across the river Lycus, because he was ashamed
+to undress himself.]
+
+But the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon's death noted down
+the day; and when brethren came from Nitria after thirty days, they
+inquired and learnt that Ammon had fallen asleep at the day and hour
+in which the old man saw his soul carried aloft.  And all on both
+sides wondered at the purity of Antony's soul; how he had learnt and
+seen instantly what had happened thirteen days' journey off.
+
+Moreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer
+mountain praying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that
+wonderful and Christ-bearing maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered
+dreadful internal pain from her extreme training, and was altogether
+weak in body.  Antony, therefore, prayed; and the Count noted down
+the day on which the prayer was offered.  And going back to
+Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and asking when and on what day
+her malady had ceased, he brought out the paper on which he had
+written down the date of the prayer.  And when she told him, he
+showed at once the writing on the paper.  And all found that the
+Lord had stopped her sufferings while Antony was still praying and
+calling for her on the goodness of the Saviour.
+
+And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days,
+or even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming.
+For some came only to see him, and others on account of sickness,
+and others because they suffered from daemons, and all thought the
+labour of the journey no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware
+that he had been benefited.  And when he spoke and looked thus, he
+asked no one to marvel at him on that account, but to marvel rather
+at the Lord, because he had given us, who are but men, grace to know
+him according to our powers.  And as he was going down again to the
+outer cells, and was minded to enter a boat and pray with the monks,
+he alone perceived a dreadfully evil odour, and when those in the
+boat told him that they had fish and brine on board, and that it was
+they which smelt, he said that it was a different smell; and while
+he was yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil spirit, had gone
+before them and hidden in the boat, suddenly cried out.  But the
+daemon, being rebuked in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, went out
+of him, and the man became whole, and all knew that the smell had
+come from the evil spirit.  And there was another man of high rank
+who came to him, having a daemon, and one so terrible, that the
+possessed man did not know that he was going to Antony, but [showed
+the common symptoms of mania].  Those who brought him entreated
+Antony to pray over him, which he did, feeling for the young man,
+and he watched beside him all night.  But about dawn, the young man,
+suddenly rushing on Antony, assaulted him.  When those who came with
+him were indignant, Antony said, "Be not hard upon the youth, for it
+is not he, but the daemon in him; and because he has been rebuked,
+and commanded to go forth into dry places, he has become furious,
+and done this.  Glorify, therefore, the Lord for his having thus
+rushed upon me, as a sign to you that the daemon is going out."  And
+as Antony said this, the youth suddenly became sound, and,
+recovering his reason, knew where he was, and embraced the old man,
+giving thanks to God.  And most of the monks agree unanimously that
+many like things were done by him:  yet are they not so wonderful as
+what follows.  For once, when he was going to eat, and rose up to
+pray about the ninth hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and
+(wonderful to relate) as he stood he saw himself as it were taken
+out of himself, and led into the air by some persons; and then
+others, bitter and terrible, standing in the air, and trying to
+prevent his passing upwards.  And when those who led him fought
+against them, they demanded whether he was not accountable to them.
+And when they began to take account of his deeds from his birth, his
+guides stopped them, saying, "What happened from his birth upwards,
+the Lord hath wiped out:  but of what has happened since he became a
+monk, and made a promise to God, of that you may demand an account."
+Then, when they brought accusations against him, and could not prove
+them, the road was opened freely to him.  And straightway he saw
+himself as if coming back and standing before himself, and was
+Antony once more.  Then, forgetting that he had not eaten, he
+remained the rest of the day and all night groaning and praying, for
+he wondered when he saw against how many enemies we must wrestle,
+and through how many labours a man must traverse the air; and he
+remembered that it is this which the Apostle means with regard to
+the Prince of the power of the air; for it is in the air that the
+enemy has his power, fighting against those who pass through it, and
+trying to hinder them.  Wherefore, also he especially exhorts us:
+"Take the whole armour of God, that the enemy, having no evil to say
+about us, may be ashamed."  But when we heard this, we remembered
+the Apostle's saying, "Whether in the body I cannot tell, or out of
+the body I cannot tell:  God knoweth."  But Paul was caught up into
+the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable words, descended
+again; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and wrestling till he
+seemed to be free.
+
+Again, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the
+mountain, if at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was
+revealed to him by Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man was,
+as Scripture says, taught of God.  After this, at all events, when
+he had been talking with some who came to him concerning the
+departure of the soul, and what would be its place after this life,
+the next night some one called him from without, and said, "Rise up,
+Antony; come out and see."  So coming out (for he knew whom he ought
+to obey), he beheld a tall being, shapeless and terrible, standing
+and reaching to the clouds, and as it were winged beings ascending;
+and him stretching out his hands; and some of them hindered by him,
+and others flying above him, and when they had once passed him,
+borne upwards without trouble.  But against them that tall being
+gnashed his teeth, while over those who fell, he rejoiced.  And
+there came a voice to Antony, "Consider what thou seest."  And when
+his understanding was opened, he perceived that it was the enemy who
+envies the faithful, and that those who were in his power he
+mastered and hindered from passing; but that those who had not
+obeyed him, over them, as over conquerors, he had no power.  Having
+seen this, and as it were made mindful by it, he struggled more and
+more daily to improve.  Now these things he did not tell of his own
+accord; but when he was long in prayer, and astonished in himself,
+those who were with him questioned him and urged him; and he was
+forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide anything from his
+children; and considering, too, that his own conscience was clear,
+and the story would be profitable for them, when they learned that
+the life of training bore good fruit, and that visions often came as
+a solace of their toils.
+
+But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit; for
+though he was so great, he both honoured exceedingly the canon of
+the Church, and wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in
+honour.  For to the bishops and presbyters he was not ashamed to bow
+his head; and if a deacon ever came to him for the sake of profit,
+he discoursed with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he gave
+place to him, not being ashamed even himself to learn from him. {65}
+For he often asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present,
+confessing that he was profited if any one said aught that was
+useful.  Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace;
+and this gift too he had from the Saviour.  For if he was present
+among the multitude of monks, and any one who did not previously
+know him wished to see him, as soon as he came he passed by all the
+rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by his eyes.  He
+did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the
+steadiness of his temper, and purity of his soul; for as his soul
+was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so
+that the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful, and from
+the movements of his body the stedfastness of his soul could be
+perceived, according to the Scripture, "When the heart is cheerful
+the countenance is glad; but when sorrow comes it scowleth." . . .
+And he was altogether wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never
+communicated with the Meletian {66a} schismatics, knowing their
+malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor did he converse amicably
+with Manichaeans or any other heretics, save only to exhort them to
+be converted to piety.  For he held that their friendship and
+converse was injury and ruin to the soul.  So also he detested the
+heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to approach them, nor
+hold their misbelief. {66b}  In fact, when certain of the
+Ariomanites came to him, having discerned them and found them
+impious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying that their words
+were worse than serpent's poison; and when the Arians once pretended
+that he was of the same opinion as they, he was indignant and fierce
+against them.  Then being sent for by the bishops and all the
+brethren, he went down from the mountain, and entering Alexandria he
+denounced the Arians, saying, that that was the last heresy, and the
+forerunner of Antichrist; and he taught the people that the Son of
+God was not a created thing, neither made from nought, but that he
+is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Essence of the Father;
+wherefore also it is impious to say there was a time when he was
+not, for he was always the Word co-existent with the Father.
+Wherefore he said, "Do not have any communication with these most
+impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and
+darkness.  For you are pious Christians:  but they, when they say
+that the Son of God and the Word, who is from the Father, is a
+created being, differ nought from the heathen, because they worship
+the creature instead of God the Creator. {67}  Believe rather that
+the whole creation itself is indignant against them, because they
+number the Creator and Lord of all, in whom all things are made,
+among created things."  All the people therefore rejoiced at hearing
+that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized by such a man; and all
+those in the city ran together to see Antony and the Greeks, {68a}
+and those who are called their priests {68b} came into the church,
+wishing to see the man of God; for all called him by that name,
+because there the Lord cleansed many by him from daemons, and healed
+those who were out of their mind.  And many heathens wished only to
+touch the old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in
+fact as many became Christians in those few days, as would have been
+usually converted in a year.  And when some thought that the crowd
+troubled him, and therefore turned all away from him, he quietly
+said that they were not more numerous than the fiends with whom he
+wrestled on the mountain.  But when he left the city, and we were
+setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate a certain woman
+called to him:  "Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously vexed
+with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with
+running after thee."  The old man hearing it, and being asked by us,
+waited willingly.  But when the woman drew near, the child dashed
+itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on the name
+of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out; and
+the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks:  and he himself
+rejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.
+
+Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never
+learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.  Once, for
+example, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they
+could tempt Antony.  And he was in the outer mountain; and when he
+went out to them, understanding the men from their countenances, he
+said through an interpreter, "Why have you troubled yourselves so
+much, philosophers, to come to a foolish man?"  And when they
+answered that he was not foolish, but rather very wise, he said, "If
+you have come to a fool, your labour is superfluous, but if ye think
+me to be wise, become as I am; for we ought to copy what is good,
+and if I had come to you, I should have copied you; but if you come
+to me, copy me, for I am a Christian."  And they wondering went
+their way, for they saw that even daemons were afraid of Antony.
+
+And again when others of the same class met him in the outer
+mountain, and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt
+letters, Antony answered, "But what do you say? which is first, the
+sense or the letters?  And which is the cause of the other, the
+sense of the letters, or the letters of the sense?"  And when they
+said that the sense came first, and invented the letters, Antony
+replied, "If then the sense be sound, the letters are not needed."
+Which struck them, and those present, with astonishment.  So they
+went away wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an
+unlearned man.  For though he had lived and grown old in the
+mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and urbane; and
+his speech was seasoned with the divine salt, so that no man grudged
+at him, but rather rejoiced over him, as many as came. . . .
+
+[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attributed
+to St. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity:  the only
+point about it which is worthy of note is that Antony confutes the
+philosophers by challenging them to cure some possessed persons,
+and, when they are unable to do so, casts out the daemons himself by
+the sign of the cross.]
+
+The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus the
+Augustus, and his sons, Constantius and Constans, the Augusti,
+hearing of these things, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to
+receive an answer from him.  But he did not make much of the
+letters, nor was puffed up by their messages; and he was just the
+same as he was before the kings wrote to him.  And he called his
+monks and said, "Wonder not if a king writes to us, for he is but a
+man:  but wonder rather that God has written his law to man, and
+spoken to us by his own Son."  So he declined to receive their
+letters, saying he did not know how to write an answer to such
+things; but being admonished by the monks that the kings were
+Christians, and that they must not be scandalized by being despised,
+he permitted the letters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting
+them because they worshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their
+salvation, not to think the present life great, but rather to
+remember judgment to come; and to know that Christ was the only true
+and eternal king; and he begged them to be merciful to men, and to
+think of justice and the poor.  And they, when they received the
+answer, rejoiced.  Thus was he kindly towards all, and all looked on
+him as their father.  He then betook himself again into the inner
+mountain, and continued his accustomed training.  But often, when he
+was sitting and walking with those who came unto him, he was
+astounded, as is written in Daniel.  And after the space of an hour,
+he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with him, and
+they perceived that he had seen some vision.  Often he saw in the
+mountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion the
+bishop, who saw him occupied with a vision.  Once, for instance, as
+he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what
+he saw.  Then, after an hour, turning to those who were with him, he
+groaned and fell into a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and
+bending his knees, remained so a long while; and then the old man
+rose up and wept.  The bystanders, therefore, trembling and
+altogether terrified, asked him to tell them what had happened, and
+tormented him much, that he was forced to speak.  And he groaning
+greatly--"Ah! my children," he said, "it were better to be dead
+before what I have seen shall come to pass."  And when they asked
+him again, he said with tears, that "Wrath will seize on the Church,
+and she will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no
+understanding; for I saw the table of the Lord's house, and mules
+standing all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does
+when it leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for
+I heard a voice saying, 'My sanctuary shall be defiled.'"
+
+This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the present
+inroad of the Arians, {72a} and the plunder of the churches, when
+they carried off the holy vessels by violence, and made the heathen
+carry them:  and when too they forced the heathens from the prisons
+to join them, and in their presence did on the holy table what they
+would. {72b}  Then we all perceived that the kicks of those mules
+presignified to Antony what the Arians are now doing without
+understanding, like the brutes.  But when Antony saw this sight, he
+exhorted those about him, saying, "Lose not heart, children; for as
+the Lord has been angry, so will he again be appeased, and the
+Church shall soon receive again her own order and shine forth as she
+is wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their place,
+and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious faith
+speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom.  Only defile not
+yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not of the Apostle
+but of the daemons, and of their father the devil:  barren and
+irrational and of an unsound mind, like the irrational deeds of
+those mules."  Thus spoke Antony.
+
+But we must not doubt whether so great wonders have been done by a
+man; for the Saviour's promise is, "If ye have faith as a grain of
+mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Pass over from hence,
+it shall pass over, and nothing shall be impossible to you;" and
+again, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, if ye shall ask my Father in
+my name, he shall give it you.  Ask, and ye shall receive."  And he
+himself it is who said to his disciples and to all who believe in
+him, "Heal the sick, cast out devils; freely ye have received,
+freely give."  And certainly Antony did not heal by his own
+authority, but by praying and calling on Christ; so that it was
+plain to all that it was not he who did it, but the Lord, who
+through Antony showed love to men, and healed the sufferers.  But
+Antony's part was only the prayer and the training, for the sake
+whereof, sitting in the mountain, he rejoiced in the sight of divine
+things, and grieved when he was tormented by many, and dragged to
+the outer mountain.
+
+For all the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain,
+because it was impossible for them to go in thither to him on
+account of the litigants who followed him; so they begged him to
+come, that they might only behold him.  And when he declined they
+insisted, and even sent in to him prisoners under the charge of
+soldiers, that at least on their account he might come down.  So
+being forced by necessity, and seeing them lamenting, he came to the
+outer mountain.  And his labour this time too was profitable to
+many, and his coming for their good.  To the magistrates, too, he
+was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to all things, and to
+fear God, and to know that with what judgment they judged they
+should be judged in turn.  But he loved best of all his life in the
+mountain.  Once again, when he was compelled in the same way to
+leave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the
+soldiers, who entreated him earnestly, he came down, and having
+spoken to them somewhat of the things which conduced to salvation,
+he was pressed also by those who were in need.  But being asked by
+the general to lengthen his stay, he refused, and persuaded him by a
+graceful parable, saying, "Fishes, if they lie long on the dry land,
+die; so monks who stay with you lose their strength.  As the fishes
+then hasten to the sea, so must we to the mountain, lest if we delay
+we should forget what is within."  The general, hearing this and
+much more from him, said with surprise that he was truly a servant
+of God, for whence could an unlearned man have so great sense if he
+were not loved by God?
+
+Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians
+on account of his affection for those abominable Arians.  His
+cruelty was so great that he even beat nuns, and stripped and
+scourged monks.  Antony sent him a letter to this effect:--"I see
+wrath coming upon thee.  Cease, therefore, to persecute the
+Christians, lest the wrath lay hold upon thee, for it is near at
+hand."  But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the ground and
+spat on it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding them tell
+Antony, "Since thou carest for monks, I will soon come after thee
+likewise."  And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold
+on him.  For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt,
+went out to the first station from Alexandria, which is called
+Chaereas's.  Both of them were riding on horses belonging to
+Balacius, and the most gentle in all his stud:  but before they had
+got to the place, the horses began playing with each other, as is
+their wont, and suddenly the more gentle of the two, on which
+Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and pulled him off with his
+teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was carried back to the city,
+and died in three days.  And all wondered that what Antony had so
+wonderfully foretold was so quickly fulfilled.  These were his
+warnings to the more cruel.  But the rest who came to him he so
+instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and blessed
+those who had retired from this life.  And those who had been
+unjustly used he so protected that you would think he and not they
+was the sufferer.  And he was so able to be of use to all; so that
+many who were serving in the army, and many wealthy men, laid aside
+the burdens of life and became thenceforth monks; and altogether he
+was like a physician given by God to Egypt.  For who met him
+grieving, and did not go away rejoicing?  Who came mourning over his
+dead, and did not forthwith lay aside his grief?  Who came wrathful,
+and was not converted to friendship?  What poor man came wearied
+out, and when he saw and heard him did not despise wealth and
+comfort himself in his poverty?  What monk who had grown remiss, was
+not strengthened by coming to him?  What young man coming to the
+mountain and looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce
+pleasure and love temperance?  Who came to him tempted by devils,
+and did not get rest?  Who came troubled by doubts, and did not get
+peace of mind?  For this was the great thing in Antony's asceticism,
+that (as I have said before), having the gift of discerning spirits,
+he understood their movements, and knew in what direction each of
+them turned his endeavours and his attacks.  And not only he was not
+deceived by them himself, but he taught those who were troubled in
+mind how they might turn aside the plots of daemons, teaching them
+the weakness and the craft of their enemies.  How many maidens, too,
+who had been already betrothed, and only saw Antony from afar,
+remained unmarried for Christ's sake!  Some, too, came from foreign
+parts to him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from
+him as from a father.  And now he has fallen asleep, all are as
+orphans who have lost a parent, consoling themselves with his memory
+alone, keeping his instructions and exhortations.  But what the end
+of his life was like, it is fit that I should relate, and you hear
+eagerly.  For it too is worthy of emulation.  He was visiting,
+according to his wont, the monks in the outer mountain, and having
+learned from Providence concerning his own end, he said to the
+brethren, "This visit to you is my last, and I wonder if we shall
+see each other again in this life.  It is time for me to set sail,
+for I am near a hundred and five years old."  And when they heard
+that they wept, and embraced and kissed the old man.  And he, as if
+he was setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke joyfully,
+and exhorted them not to grow idle in their labours or cowardly in
+their training, but to live as those who died daily, and (as I said
+before) to be earnest in keeping their souls from foul thoughts, and
+to emulate the saints, and not to draw near the Meletian
+schismatics, for "ye know their evil and profane determinations, nor
+to have any communion with the Arians, for their impiety also is
+manifest to all.  Neither if ye shall see the magistrates
+patronising them, be troubled, for their phantasy shall have an end,
+and is mortal and only for a little while.  Keep yourselves
+therefore rather clean from them, and hold that which has been
+handed down to you by the fathers, and especially the faith in our
+Lord Jesus Christ which ye have learned from Scripture, and of which
+ye have often been reminded by me."  And when the brethren tried to
+force him to stay with them and make his end there, he would not
+endure it, on many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and
+especially on this:--The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the
+corpses of good persons, and especially of the holy martyrs, but not
+to bury them underground, but to lay them upon benches and keep them
+in their houses; {77} thinking that by this they honour the
+departed.  Now Antony had often asked the bishops to exhort the
+people about this, and in like manner he himself rebuked the laity
+and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing neither lawful
+nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs and
+prophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very
+body of our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it
+to hide it, till he rose the third day.  And thus saying he showed
+that those broke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead,
+even if they were holy; for what is greater or more holy than the
+Lord's body?  Many, then, when they heard him, buried thenceforth
+underground; and blessed the Lord that they had been taught rightly.
+Being then aware of this, and afraid lest they should do the same by
+his body, he hurried himself, and bade farewell to the monks in the
+outer mountain; and coming to the inner mountain, where he was wont
+to abide, after a few months he grew sick, and calling those who
+were by--and there were two of them who had remained there within
+fifteen years, exercising themselves and ministering to him on
+account of his old age--he said to them, "I indeed go the way of the
+fathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the
+Lord." . . .
+
+[Then follows a general exhortation to the monk, almost identical
+with much that has gone before, and ending by a command that his
+body should be buried in the ground.]
+
+"And let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall know
+the place, save you alone, for I shall receive it (my body)
+incorruptible from my Saviour in the resurrection of the dead.  And
+distribute my garments thus.  To Athanasius the bishop give one of
+my sheepskins, and the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it
+me, and has grown old by me; and to Serapion the bishop give the
+other sheepskin; and do you have the hair-cloth garment.  And for
+the rest, children, farewell, for Antony is going, and is with you
+no more."
+
+Saying thus, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet,
+and, as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their
+account (for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed
+and was gathered to his fathers.  And they forthwith, as he had
+commanded them, preparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under
+ground:  and no one knows to this day where it is hidden, save those
+two servants only.  And each (i.e.  Athanasius and Serapion) having
+received the sheepskin of the blessed Antony, and the cloak which he
+had worn out, keeps them as a great possession.  For he who looks on
+them, as it were, sees Antony; and he who puts them on, wears them
+with joy, as he does Antony's counsels.
+
+Such was the end of Antony in the body, and such the beginning of
+his training.  And if these things are small in comparison with his
+virtue, yet reckon up from these things how great was Antony, the
+man of God, who kept unchanged, from his youth up to so great an
+age, the earnestness of his training; and was neither worsted in his
+old age by the desire of more delicate food, nor on account of the
+weakness of his body altered the quality of his garment, nor even
+washed his feet with water; and yet remained uninjured in all his
+limbs:  for his eyes were undimmed and whole, so that he saw well;
+and not one of his teeth had fallen out, but they were only worn
+down to his gums on account of his great age; and he remained sound
+in hand and foot; and, in a word, appeared ruddier and more ready
+for exertion than all who use various meats and baths, and different
+dresses.  But that this man should be celebrated everywhere and
+wondered at by all, and regretted even by those who never saw him,
+is a proof of his virtue, and that his soul was dear to God.  For
+Antony became known not by writings, not from the wisdom that is
+from without, not by any art, but by piety alone; and that this was
+the gift of God, none can deny.  For how as far as Spain, as Gaul,
+as Rome, as Africa, could he have been heard, hidden as he was in a
+mountain, if it had not been for God, who makes known his own men
+everywhere, and who had promised Antony this from the beginning?
+For even if they do their deeds in secret, and wish to be concealed,
+yet the Lord shows them as lights to all, that so those who hear of
+them may know that the commandments suffice to put men in the right
+way, and may grow zealous of the path of virtue.
+
+Read then these things to the other brethren, that they may learn
+what the life of monks should be, and may believe that the Lord
+Jesus Christ our Saviour will glorify those who glorify him, and
+that those who serve him to the end he will not only bring to the
+kingdom of heaven, but that even if on earth they hide themselves
+and strive to get out of the way, he will make them manifest and
+celebrated everywhere, for the sake of their own virtue, and for the
+benefit of others.  But if need be, read this also to the heathens,
+that even thus they may learn that our Lord Jesus Christ is not only
+Lord and the Son of God, but that those who truly serve him, and
+believe piously on him, not only prove that those daemons whom the
+Greeks think are gods to be no gods, but even tread them under foot,
+and chase them out as deceivers and corrupters of men, through Jesus
+Christ our Lord, to whom be glory and honour for ever and ever.
+Amen.
+
+
+Thus ends this strange story.  What we are to think of the miracles
+and wonders contained in it, will be discussed at a later point in
+this book.  Meanwhile there is a stranger story still connected with
+the life of St. Antony.  It professes to have been told by him
+himself to his monks; and whatever groundwork of fact there may be
+in it is doubtless his.  The form in which we have it was given it
+by the famous St. Jerome, who sends the tale as a letter to Asella,
+one of the many noble Roman ladies whom he persuaded to embrace the
+monastic life.  The style is as well worth preserving as the matter.
+Its ruggedness and awkwardness, its ambition and affectation,
+contrasted with the graceful simplicity of Athanasius's "Life of
+Antony," mark well the difference between the cultivated Greek and
+the ungraceful and half-barbarous Roman of the later Empire.  I
+have, therefore, given it as literally as possible, that readers may
+judge for themselves how some of the Great Fathers of the fifth
+century wrote, and what they believed.
+
+
+
+THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT
+
+
+
+BY THE DIVINE HIERONYMUS THE PRIEST.  (ST.  JEROME.)
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Many have often doubted by which of the monks the desert was first
+inhabited.  For some, looking for the beginnings of Monachism in
+earlier ages, have deduced it from the blessed Elias and John; of
+whom Elias seems to us to have been rather a prophet than a monk;
+and John to have begun to prophesy before he was born.  But others
+(an opinion in which all the common people are agreed) assert that
+Antony was the head of this rule of life, which is partly true.  For
+he was not so much himself the first of all, as the man who excited
+the earnestness of all.  But Amathas and Macarius, Antony's
+disciples (the former of whom buried his master's body), even now
+affirm that a certain Paul, a Theban, was the beginner of the
+matter; which (not so much in name as in opinion) we also hold to be
+true.  Some scatter about, as the fancy takes them, both this and
+other stories; inventing incredible tales of a man in a subterranean
+cave, hairy down to his heels, and many other things, which it is
+tedious to follow out.  For, as their lie is shameless, their
+opinion does not seem worth refuting.
+
+Therefore, because careful accounts of Antony, both in Greek and
+Roman style, have been handed down, I have determined to write a
+little about the beginning and end of Paul's life; more because the
+matter has been omitted, than trusting to my own wit.  But how he
+lived during middle life, or what stratagems of Satan he endured, is
+known to none.
+
+
+THE LIFE OF PAUL
+
+
+Under Decius and Valerius, the persecutors, at the time when
+Cornelius at Rome, and Cyprian at Carthage, were condemned in
+blessed blood, a cruel tempest swept over many Churches in Egypt and
+the Thebaid.
+
+Christian subjects in those days longed to be smitten with the sword
+for the name of Christ.  But the crafty enemy, seeking out
+punishments which delayed death, longed to slay souls, not bodies.
+And as Cyprian himself (who suffered by him) says:  "When they
+longed to die, they were not allowed to be slain."  In order to make
+his cruelty better known, we have set down two examples for
+remembrance.
+
+A martyr, persevering in the faith, and conqueror amid racks and
+red-hot irons, he commanded to be anointed with honey and laid on
+his back under a burning sun, with his hands tied behind him; in
+order, forsooth, that he who had already conquered the fiery
+gridiron, might yield to the stings of flies.
+
+* * *
+
+In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul left at the death of
+both his parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister already
+married; being about fifteen years old, well taught in Greek and
+Egyptian letters, gentle tempered, loving God much; and, when the
+storm of persecution burst, he withdrew into a distant city.  But
+
+
+"To what dost thou not urge the human breast
+Curst hunger after gold?"
+
+
+His sister's husband was ready to betray him whom he should have
+concealed.  Neither the tears of his wife, the tie of blood, or God
+who looks on all things from on high, could call him back from his
+crime.  He was at hand, ready to seize him, making piety a pretext
+for cruelty.  The boy discovered it, and fled into the desert hills.
+Once there he changed need into pleasure, and going on, and then
+stopping awhile, again and again, reached at last a stony cliff, at
+the foot whereof was, nigh at hand, a great cave, its mouth closed
+with a stone.  Having moved which away (as man's longing is to know
+the hidden), exploring more greedily, he sees within a great hall,
+open to the sky above, but shaded by the spreading boughs of an
+ancient palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill from which, flowing
+a short space forth, was sucked up again by the same soil which had
+given it birth.  There were besides in that cavernous mountain not a
+few dwellings, in which he saw rusty anvils and hammers, with which
+coin had been stamped of old.  For this place (so books say) was the
+workshop for base coin in the days when Antony lived with Cleopatra.
+
+Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God,
+he spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree
+gave him food and clothes; which lest it should seem impossible to
+some, I call Jesus and his holy angels to witness that I have seen
+monks one of whom, shut up for thirty years, lived on barley bread
+and muddy water; another in an old cistern, which in the country
+speech they call the Syrian's bed, was kept alive on five figs each
+day.  These things, therefore, will seem incredible to those who do
+not believe; for to those who do believe all things are possible.
+
+But to return thither whence I digressed.  When the blessed Paul had
+been leading the heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and Antony,
+ninety years old, was dwelling in another solitude, this thought (so
+Antony was wont to assert) entered his mind--that no monk more
+perfect than he had settled in the desert.  But as he lay still by
+night, it was revealed to him that there was another monk beyond him
+far better than he, to visit whom he must set out.  So when the
+light broke, the venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on a
+staff, began to will to go, he knew not whither.  And now the mid
+day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not
+turned from the journey he had begun, saying, "I trust in my God,
+that he will show his servant that which he has promised."  And as
+he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets have given the
+name of Hippocentaur.  Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead with the
+salutary impression of the Cross, and, "Here!" he says, "in what
+part here does a servant of God dwell?"  But he, growling I know not
+what barbarous sound, and grinding rather than uttering, the words,
+attempted a courteous speech from lips rough with bristles, and,
+stretching out his right hand, pointed to the way; then, fleeing
+swiftly across the open plains, vanished from the eyes of the
+wondering Antony.  But whether the devil took this form to terrify
+him; or whether the desert, fertile (as is its wont) in monstrous
+animals, begets that beast likewise, we hold as uncertain.
+
+So Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen, goes
+forward.  Soon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a short
+manikin, with crooked nose and brow rough with horns, whose lower
+parts ended in goat's feet.  Undismayed by this spectacle likewise,
+Antony seized, like a good warrior, the shield of faith and
+habergeon of hope; the animal, however, was bringing him dates, as
+food for his journey, and a pledge of peace.  When he saw that,
+Antony pushed on, and, asking him who he was, was answered, "I am a
+mortal, and one of the inhabitants of the desert, whom the Gentiles,
+deluded by various errors, worship by the name of Fauns, Satyrs, and
+Incubi.  I come as ambassador from our herd, that thou mayest pray
+for us to the common God, who, we know, has come for the salvation
+of the world, and his sound is gone out into all lands."  As he
+spoke thus, the aged wayfarer bedewed his face plenteously with
+tears, which the greatness of his joy had poured forth as signs of
+his heart.  For he rejoiced at the glory of Christ, and the
+destruction of Satan; and, wondering at the same time that he could
+understand the creature's speech, he smote on the ground with his
+staff, and said, "Woe to thee, Alexandria, who worshippest portents
+instead of God!  Woe to thee, harlot city, into which all the demons
+of the world have flowed together!  What wilt thou say now?  Beasts
+talk of Christ, and thou worshippest portents instead of God."  He
+had hardly finished his words, when the swift beast fled away as
+upon wings.  Lest this should move a scruple in any one on account
+of its incredibility, it was corroborated, in the reign of
+Constantine, by the testimony of the whole world.  For a man of that
+kind, being led alive to Alexandria, afforded a great spectacle to
+the people; and afterwards the lifeless carcase, being salted lest
+it should decay in the summer heat, was brought to Antioch, to be
+seen by the Emperor.
+
+But--to go on with my tale--Antony went on through that region,
+seeing only the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of the
+desert.  What he should do, or whither turn, he knew not.  A second
+day had now run by.  One thing remained, to be confident that he
+could not be deserted by Christ.  All night through he spent a
+second darkness in prayer, and while the light was still dim, he
+sees afar a she-wolf, panting with heat and thirst, creeping in at
+the foot of the mountain.  Following her with his eyes, and drawing
+nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began to look in:  but
+in vain; for the darkness stopped his view.  However, as the
+Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and
+bated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly,
+and stopping often, watched for a sound.  At length he saw afar off
+a light through the horror of the darkness; hastened on more
+greedily; struck his foot against a stone; and made a noise, at
+which the blessed Paul shut and barred his door, which had stood
+open.
+
+Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there
+till the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, "Who I am, and
+whence, and why I am come, thou knowest.  I know that I deserve not
+to see thy face; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return.  Thou
+who receivest beasts, why repellest thou a man?  I have sought, and
+I have found.  I knock, that it may be opened to me:  which if I win
+not, here will I die before thy gate.  Surely thou shalt at least
+bury my corpse."
+
+
+"Persisting thus he spoke, and stood there fixed:
+To whom the hero shortly thus replied."
+
+
+"No one begs thus to threaten.  No one does injury with tears.  And
+dost thou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal
+guest?"
+
+Then Paul, smiling, opened the door.  They mingled mutual embraces,
+and saluted each other by their names, and committed themselves in
+common to the grace of God.  And after the holy kiss, Paul sitting
+down with Antony thus began--
+
+"Behold him, whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs
+decayed by age, and covered with unkempt white hair.  Behold, thou
+seest but a mortal, soon to become dust.  But, because charity bears
+all things, tell me, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether
+new houses are rising in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the
+world governed? whether there are any left who are led captive by
+the deceits of the devil?"  As they spoke thus, they saw a raven
+settle on a bough; who, flying gently down, laid, to their wonder, a
+whole loaf before them.  When he was gone, "Ah," said Paul, "the
+Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a meal.  For sixty
+years past I have received daily half a loaf, but at thy coming
+Christ hath doubled his soldiers' allowance."  Then, having thanked
+God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.
+
+But here a contention arising as to which of them should break the
+loaf, occupied the day till well-nigh evening.  Paul insisted, as
+the host; Antony declined, as the younger man.  At last it was
+agreed that they should take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and
+each pull towards himself, and keep what was left in his hand.  Next
+they stooped down, and drank a little water from the spring; then,
+immolating to God the sacrifice of praise, passed the night
+watching.
+
+And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, "I knew
+long since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long
+since God had promised thee to me as a fellow servant:  but because
+the time of my falling asleep is now come, and (because I always
+longed to depart, and to be with Christ) there is laid up for me
+when I have finished my course a crown of righteousness; therefore
+thou art sent from the Lord to cover my corpse with mould, and give
+back dust to dust."
+
+Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert
+him, but take him as his companion on such a journey.  But he said,
+"Thou must not seek the things which are thine own, but the things
+of others.  It is expedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden
+of the flesh, and to follow the Lamb:  but it is expedient for the
+rest of the brethren that they should be still trained by thine
+example.  Wherefore go, unless it displease thee, and bring the
+cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave thee, to wrap up my corpse."
+But this the blessed Paul asked, not because he cared greatly
+whether his body decayed covered or bare (as one who for so long a
+time was used to clothe himself with woven palm leaves), but that
+Antony's grief at his death might be lightened when he left him.
+Antony astounded that he had heard of Athanasius and his own cloak,
+seeing as it were Christ in Paul, and venerating the God within his
+breast, dared answer nothing:  but keeping in silence, and kissing
+his eyes and hands, returned to the monastery, which afterwards was
+occupied by the Saracens.  His steps could not follow his spirit;
+but, although his body was empty with fastings, and broken with old
+age, yet his courage conquered his years.  At last, tired and
+breathless, he arrived at home.  There two disciples met him, who
+had been long sent to minister to him, and asked him, "Where hast
+thou tarried so long, father?"  He answered, "Woe to me a sinner,
+who falsely bear the name of a monk.  I have seen Elias; I have seen
+John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul in Paradise;" and so,
+closing his lips, and beating his breast, he took the cloak from his
+cell, and when his disciples asked him to explain more fully what
+had befallen, he said, "There is a time to be silent, and a time to
+speak."  Then going out, and not taking even a morsel of food, he
+returned by the way he had come.  For he feared--what actually
+happened--lest Paul in his absence should render up the soul he owed
+to Christ.
+
+And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps for
+three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of
+prophets and apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on
+high; and forthwith falling on his face, he cast sand on his head,
+and weeping and wailing, said, "Why dost thou dismiss me, Paul?  Why
+dost thou depart without a farewell?  So late known, dost thou
+vanish so soon?"  The blessed Antony used to tell afterwards, how he
+ran the rest of the way so swiftly that he flew like a bird.  Nor
+without cause.  For entering the cave he saw, with bended knees,
+erect neck, and hands spread out on high, a lifeless corpse.  And at
+first, thinking that it still lived, he prayed in like wise.  But
+when he heard no sighs (as usual) come from the worshipper's breast,
+he fell to a tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse of the
+saint was praying, in seemly attitude, to that God to whom all live.
+
+So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting
+hymns of the Christian tradition, Antony grew sad, because he had no
+spade, wherewith to dig the ground; and thinking over many plans in
+his mind, said, "If I go back to the monastery, it is a three days'
+journey.  If I stay here, I shall be of no more use.  I will die,
+then, as it is fit; and, falling beside thy warrior, Christ, breathe
+my last breath."
+
+As he was thinking thus to himself, lo! two lions came running from
+the inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks;
+seeing whom he shuddered at first; and then, turning his mind to
+God, remained fearless, as though he were looking upon doves.  They
+came straight to the corpse of the blessed old man, and crouched at
+his feet, wagging their tails, and roaring with mighty growls, so
+that Antony understood them to lament, as best they could.  Then not
+far off they began to claw the ground with their paws, and, carrying
+out the sand eagerly, dug a place large enough to hold a man:  then
+at once, as if begging a reward for their work, they came to Antony,
+drooping their necks, and licking his hands and feet.  But he
+perceived that they prayed a blessing from him; and at once,
+bursting into praise of Christ, because even dumb animals felt that
+he was God, he saith, "Lord, without whose word not a leaf of the
+tree drops, nor one sparrow falls to the ground, give to them as
+thou knowest how to give."  And, signing to them with his hand, he
+bade them go.
+
+And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight
+of the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it,
+and raised a mound as is the wont.  And when another dawn shone,
+lest the pious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the
+intestate dead, he kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven,
+as baskets are made, out of the leaves of the palm; and returning to
+the monastery, told his disciples all throughout; and, on the solemn
+days of Easter and Pentecost, always clothed himself in Paul's
+tunic.
+
+I am inclined, at the end of my treatise, to ask those who know not
+the extent of their patrimonies; who cover their houses with
+marbles; who sew the price of whole farms into their garments with a
+single thread--What was ever wanting to this naked old man?  Ye
+drink from a gem; he satisfied nature from the hollow of his hands.
+Ye weave gold into your tunics; he had not even the vilest garment
+of your bond-slave.  But, on the other hand, to that poor man
+Paradise is open; you, gilded as you are, Gehenna will receive.  He,
+though naked, kept the garment of Christ; you, clothed in silk, have
+lost Christ's robe.  Paul lies covered with the meanest dust, to
+rise in glory; you are crushed by wrought sepulchres of stone, to
+burn with all your works.  Spare, I beseech you, yourselves; spare,
+at least, the riches which you love.  Why do you wrap even your dead
+in golden vestments?  Why does not ambition stop amid grief and
+tears?  Cannot the corpses of the rich decay, save in silk?  I
+beseech thee, whosoever thou art that readest this, to remember
+Hieronymus the sinner, who, if the Lord gave him choice, would much
+sooner choose Paul's tunic with his merits, than the purple of kings
+with their punishments.
+
+
+This is the story of Paul and Antony, as told by Jerome.  But, in
+justice to Antony himself, it must be said that the sayings recorded
+of him seem to show that he was not the mere visionary ascetic which
+his biographers have made him.  Some twenty sermons are attributed
+to him, seven of which only are considered to be genuine.  A rule
+for monks, too, is called his:  but, as it is almost certain that he
+could neither read nor write, we have no proof that any of these
+documents convey his actual language.  If the seven sermons
+attributed to him be really his, it must be said for them that they
+are full of sound doctrine and vital religion, and worthy, as
+wholes, to be preached in any English church, if we only substitute
+for the word "monk," the word "man."
+
+But there are records of Antony which represent him as a far more
+genial and human personage; full of a knowledge of human nature, and
+of a tenderness and sympathy, which account for his undoubted power
+over the minds of men; and showing, too, at times, a certain covert
+and "pawky" humour which puts us in mind, as does the humour of many
+of the Egyptian hermits, of the old-fashioned Scotch.  These
+reminiscences are contained in the "Words of the Elders," a series
+of anecdotes of the desert fathers collected by various hands; which
+are, after all, the most interesting and probably the most
+trustworthy accounts of them and their ways.  I shall have occasion
+to quote them later.  I insert here some among them which relate to
+Antony.
+
+
+SAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE "WORDS OF THE ELDERS."
+
+
+A monk gave away his wealth to the poor, but kept back some for
+himself.  Antony said to him, "Go to the village and buy meat, and
+bring it to me on thy bare back."  He did so:  and the dogs and
+birds attacked him, and tore him as well as the meat.  Quoth Antony,
+"So are those who renounce the world, and yet must needs have money,
+torn by daemons."
+
+Antony heard high praise of a certain brother; but, when he tested
+him, he found that he was impatient under injury.  Quoth Antony,
+"Thou art like a house which has a gay porch, but is broken into by
+thieves through the back door."
+
+Antony, as he sat in the desert, was weary in heart, and said,
+"Lord, I long to be saved, but my wandering thoughts will not let
+me.  Show me what I shall do."  And looking up, he saw one like
+himself twisting ropes, and rising up to pray.  And the angel (for
+it was one) said to him, "Work like me, Antony, and you shall be
+saved."
+
+One asked him how he could please God.  Quoth Antony, "Have God
+always before thine eyes; whatever work thou doest, take example for
+it out of Holy Scripture:  wherever thou stoppest, do not move
+thence in a hurry, but abide there in patience.  If thou keepest
+these three things, thou shalt be saved."
+
+Quoth Antony, "If the baker did not cover the mill-horse's eyes he
+would eat the corn, and take his own wages.  So God covers our eyes,
+by leaving us to sordid thoughts, lest we should think of our own
+good works, and be puffed up in spirit."
+
+Quoth Antony, "I saw all the snares of the enemy spread over the
+whole earth.  And I sighed, and said, 'Who can pass through these?'
+And a voice came to me, saying, 'Humility alone can pass through,
+Antony, where the proud can in no wise go.'"
+
+Antony was sitting in his cell, and a voice said to him, "Thou hast
+not yet come to the stature of a currier, who lives in Alexandria."
+Then he took his staff, and went down to Alexandria; and the
+currier, when he found him, was astonished at seeing so great a man.
+Said Antony, "Tell me thy works; for on thy account have I come out
+of the desert."  And he answered, "I know not that I ever did any
+good; and, therefore, when I rise in the morning, I say that this
+whole city, from the greatest to the least, will enter into the
+kingdom of God for their righteousness:  while I, for my sins, shall
+go to eternal pain.  And this I say over again, from the bottom of
+my heart, when I lie down at night."  When Antony heard that, he
+said, "Like a good goldsmith, thou hast gained the kingdom of God
+sitting still in thy house; while I, as one without discretion, have
+been haunting the desert all my time, and yet not arrived at the
+measure of thy saying."
+
+Quoth Antony, "If a monk could tell his elders how many steps he
+walks, or how many cups of water he drinks, in his cell, he ought to
+tell them, for fear of going wrong therein."
+
+At Alexandria, Antony met one Didymus, most learned in the
+Scriptures, witty, and wise:  but he was blind.  Antony asked him,
+"Art thou not grieved at thy blindness?"  He was silent:  but being
+pressed by Antony, he confessed that he was sad thereat.  Quoth
+Antony, "I wonder that a prudent man grieves over the loss of a
+thing which ants, and flies, and gnats have, instead of rejoicing in
+that possession which the holy Apostles earned.  For it is better to
+see with the spirit than with the flesh."
+
+A Father asked Antony, "What shall I do?"  Quoth the old man, "Trust
+not in thine own righteousness; regret not the thing which is past;
+bridle thy tongue and thy stomach."
+
+Quoth Antony, "He who sits still in the desert is safe from three
+enemies:  from hearing, from speech, from sight:  and has to fight
+against only one, his own heart."
+
+A young monk came and told Antony how he had seen some old men weary
+on their journey, and had bidden the wild asses to come and carry
+him, and they came.  Quoth Antony, "That monk looks to me like a
+ship laden with a precious cargo; but whether it will get into port
+is uncertain."  And after some days he began to tear his hair and
+weep; and when they asked him why, he said, "A great pillar of the
+Church has just fallen;" and he sent brothers to see the young man,
+and found him sitting on his mat, weeping over a great sin which he
+had done; and he said, "Tell Antony to give me ten days' truce, and
+I hope I shall satisfy him;" and in five days he was dead.
+
+Abbot Elias fell into temptation, and the brethren drove him out.
+Then he went to the mountain to Antony.  After awhile, Antony sent
+him home to his brethren; but they would not receive him.  Then the
+old man sent to them, and saying, "A ship has been wrecked at sea,
+and lost all its cargo; and, with much toil, the ship is come empty
+to land.  Will you sink it again in the sea?"  So they took Elias
+back.
+
+Quoth Antony, "There are some who keep their bodies in abstinence:
+but, because they have no discretion, they are far from God."
+
+A hunter came by, and saw Antony rejoicing with the brethren, and it
+displeased him.  Quoth Antony, "Put an arrow in thy bow, and draw;"
+and he did.  Quoth Antony, "Draw higher;" and again, "Draw higher
+still."  And he said, "If I overdraw, I shall break my bow."  Quoth
+Antony, "So it is in the work of God.  If we stretch the brethren
+beyond measure, they fail."
+
+A brother said to Antony, "Pray for me."  Quoth he, "I cannot pity
+thee, nor God either, unless thou pitiest thyself, and prayest to
+God."
+
+Quoth Antony, "The Lord does not permit wars to arise in this
+generation, because he knows that men are weak, and cannot bear
+them."
+
+Antony, as he considered the depths of the judgments of God, failed;
+and said, "Lord, why do some die so early, and some live on to a
+decrepit age?  Why are some needy, and others rich?  Why are the
+unjust wealthy, and the just poor?"  And a voice came to him,
+"Antony, look to thyself.  These are the judgments of God, which are
+not fit for thee to know."
+
+Quoth Antony to Abbot Pastor, "This is a man's great business--to
+lay each man his own fault on himself before the Lord, and to expect
+temptation to the last day of his life."
+
+Quoth Antony, "If a man works a few days, and then is idle, and
+works again and is idle again, he does nothing, and will not possess
+the perseverance of patience."
+
+Quoth Antony to his disciples, "If you try to keep silence, do not
+think that you are exercising a virtue, but that you are unworthy to
+speak."
+
+Certain old men came once to Antony; and he wished to prove them,
+and began to talk of holy Scripture, and to ask them, beginning at
+the youngest, what this and that text meant.  And each answered as
+best they could.  But he kept on saying, "You have not yet found it
+out."  And at last he asked Abbot Joseph, "And what dost thou think
+this text means?"  Quoth Abbot Joseph, "I do not know."  Quoth
+Antony, "Abbot Joseph alone has found out the way, for he says he
+does not know it."
+
+Quoth Antony, "I do not now fear God, but love Him, for love drives
+out fear."
+
+He said again, "Life and death are very near us; for if we gain our
+brother, we gain God:  but if we cause our brother to offend, we sin
+against Christ."
+
+A philosopher asked Antony, "How art thou content, father, since
+thou hast not the comfort of books?"  Quoth Antony, "My book is the
+nature of created things.  In it, when I choose, I can read the
+words of God."
+
+Brethren came to Antony, and asked of him a saying by which they
+might be saved.  Quoth he, "Ye have heard the Scriptures, and know
+what Christ requires of you."  But they begged that he would tell
+them something of his own.  Quoth he, "The Gospel says, 'If a man
+smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other.'"  But they said that
+they could not do that.  Quoth he, "You cannot turn the other cheek
+to him?  Then let him smite you again on the same one."  But they
+said they could not do that either.  Then said he, "If you cannot,
+at least do not return evil for evil."  And when they said that
+neither could they do that, quoth Antony to his disciples, "Go, get
+them something to eat, for they are very weak."  And he said to
+them, "If you cannot do the one, and will not have the other, what
+do you want?  As I see, what you want is prayer.  That will heal
+your weakness."
+
+Quoth Antony, "He who would be free from his sins must be so by
+weeping and mourning; and he who would be built up in virtue must be
+built up by tears."
+
+Quoth Antony, "When the stomach is full of meat, forthwith the great
+vices bubble out, according to that which the Saviour says:  'That
+which entereth into the mouth defileth not a man; but that which
+cometh out of the heart sinks a man in destruction.'"
+
+[This may be a somewhat paradoxical application of the text:  but
+the last anecdote of Antony which I shall quote is full of wisdom
+and humanity.]
+
+A monk came from Alexandria, Eulogius by name, bringing with him a
+man afflicted with elephantiasis.  Now Eulogius had been a scholar,
+learned, and rich, and had given away all he had save a very little,
+which he kept because he could not work with his own hands.
+
+And he told Antony how he had found that wretched man lying in the
+street fifteen years before, having lost then nearly every member
+save his tongue, and how he had taken him home to his cell, nursed
+him, bathed him, physicked him, fed him; and how the man had
+returned him nothing save slanders, curses, and insults; how he had
+insisted on having meat, and had had it; and on going out in public,
+and had company brought to him; and how he had at last demanded to
+be put down again whence he had been taken, always cursing and
+slandering.  And now Eulogius could bear the man no longer, and was
+minded to take him at his word.
+
+Then said Antony with an angry voice, "Wilt thou cast him out,
+Eulogius?  He who remembers that he made him, will not cast him out.
+If thou cast him out, he will find a better friend than thee.  God
+will choose some one who will take him up when he is cast away."
+Eulogius was terrified at these words, and held his peace.
+
+Then went Antony to the sick man, and shouted at him, "Thou
+elephantiac, foul with mud and dirt, not worthy of the third heaven,
+wilt thou not stop shouting blasphemies against God?  Dost thou not
+know that he who ministers to thee is Christ?  How darest thou say
+such things against Christ?"  And he bade Eulogius and the sick man
+go back to their cell, and live in peace, and never part more.  Both
+went back, and, after forty days, Eulogius died, and the sick man
+shortly after, "altogether whole in spirit."
+
+
+
+HILARION
+
+
+
+I would gladly, did space allow, give more biographies from among
+those of the Egyptian hermits:  but it seems best, having shown the
+reader Antony as the father of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his
+great pupil Hilarion, the father of monachism in Palestine.  His
+life stands written at length by St. Jerome, who himself died a monk
+at Bethlehem; and is composed happily in a less ambitious and less
+rugged style than that of Paul, not without elements of beauty, even
+of tragedy.
+
+
+PROLOGUE
+
+
+Remember me in thy holy prayers, glory and honour of virgins, nun
+Asella.  Before beginning to write the life of the blessed Hilarion,
+I invoke the Holy Spirit which dwelt in him, that, as he largely
+bestowed virtues on Hilarion, he may give to me speech wherewith to
+relate them; so that his deeds may be equalled by my language.  For
+those who (as Crispus says) "have wrought virtues" are held to have
+been worthily praised in proportion to the words in which famous
+intellects have been able to extol them.  Alexander the Great, the
+Macedonian (whom Daniel calls either the brass, or the leopard, or
+the he-goat), on coming to the tomb of Achilles, "Happy art thou,
+youth," he said, "who hast been blest with a great herald of thy
+worth"--meaning Homer.  But I have to tell the conversation and life
+of such and so great a man, that even Homer, were he here, would
+either envy my matter, or succumb under it.
+
+For although St. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamina in Cyprus, who had
+much intercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a short
+epistle, which is commonly read, yet it is one thing to praise the
+dead in general phrases, another to relate his special virtues.  We
+therefore set to work rather to his advantage than to his injury;
+and despise those evil-speakers who lately carped at Paul, and will
+perhaps now carp at my Hilarion, unjustly blaming the former for his
+solitary life, and the latter for his intercourse with men; in order
+that the one, who was never seen, may be supposed not to have
+existed; the other, who was seen by many, may be held cheap.  This
+was the way of their ancestors likewise, the Pharisees, who were
+neither satisfied with John's desert life and fasting, nor with the
+Lord Saviour's public life, eating and drinking.  But I shall lay my
+hand to the work which I have determined, and pass by, with stopped
+ears, the hounds of Scylla.  I pray that thou mayest persevere in
+Christ, and be mindful of me in thy prayers, most sacred virgin.
+
+
+THE LIFE
+
+
+Hilarion was born in the village of Thabatha, which lies about five
+miles to the south of Gaza, in Palestine.  He had parents given to
+the worship of idols, and blossomed (as the saying is) a rose among
+the thorns.  Sent by them to Alexandria, he was entrusted to a
+grammarian, and there, as far as his years allowed, gave proof of
+great intellect and good morals.  He was soon dear to all, and
+skilled in the art of speaking.  And, what is more than all, he
+believed in the Lord Jesus, and delighted neither in the madness of
+the circus, in the blood of the arena, or in the luxury of the
+theatre:  but all his heart was in the congregation of the Church.
+
+But hearing the then famous name of Antony, which was carried
+throughout all Egypt, he was fired with a longing to visit him, and
+went to the desert.  As soon as he saw him he changed his dress, and
+stayed with him about two months, watching the order of his life,
+and the purity of his manner; how frequent he was in prayers, how
+humble in receiving brethren, severe in reproving them, eager in
+exhorting them; and how no infirmity ever broke through his
+continence, and the coarseness of his food.  But, unable to bear
+longer the crowd which assembled round Antony, for various diseases
+and attacks of devils, he said that it was not consistent to endure
+in the desert the crowds of cities, but that he must rather begin
+where Antony had begun.  Antony, as a valiant man, was receiving the
+reward of victory:  he had not yet begun to serve as a soldier.  He
+returned, therefore, with certain monks to his own country; and,
+finding his parents dead, gave away part of his substance to the
+brethren, part to the poor, and kept nothing at all for himself,
+fearing what is told in the Acts of the Apostles, the example or
+punishment, of Ananias and Sapphira; and especially mindful of the
+Lord's saying--"He that leaveth not all that he hath, he cannot be
+my disciple."
+
+He was then fifteen years old.  So, naked, but armed in Christ, he
+entered the desert, which, seven miles from Maiuma, the port of
+Gaza, turns away to the left of those who go along the shore towards
+Egypt.  And though the place was blood-stained by robbers, and his
+relations and friends warned him of the imminent danger, he despised
+death, in order to escape death.  All wondered at his spirit,
+wondered at his youth.  Save that a certain fire of the bosom and
+spark of faith glittered in his eyes, his cheeks were smooth, his
+body delicate and thin, unable to bear any injury, and liable to be
+overcome by even a light chill or heat.
+
+So, covering his limbs only with a sackcloth, and having a cloak of
+skin, which the blessed Antony had given him at starting, and a
+rustic cloak, between the sea and the swamp, he enjoyed the vast and
+terrible solitude, feeding on only fifteen figs after the setting of
+the sun; and because the region was, as has been said above, of ill-
+repute from robberies, no man had ever stayed before in that place.
+The devil, seeing what he was doing and whither he had gone, was
+tormented.  And though he, who of old boasted, saying, "I shall
+ascend into heaven, I shall sit above the stars of heaven, and shall
+be like unto the Most High," now saw that he had been conquered by a
+boy, and trampled under foot by him, ere, on account of his youth,
+he could commit sin.  He therefore began to tempt his senses; but
+he, enraged with himself, and beating his breast with his fist, as
+if he could drive out thoughts by blows, "I will force thee, mine
+ass," said he, "not to kick; and feed thee with straw, not barley.
+I will wear thee out with hunger and thirst; I will burden thee with
+heavy loads; I will hunt thee through heat and cold, till thou
+thinkest more of food than of play."  He therefore sustained his
+fainting spirit with the juice of herbs and a few figs, after each
+three or four days, praying frequently, and singing psalms, and
+digging the ground with a mattock, to double the labour of fasting
+by that of work.  At the same time, by weaving baskets of rushes, he
+imitated the discipline of the Egyptian monks, and the Apostle's
+saying--"He that will not work, neither let him eat"--till he was so
+attenuated, and his body so exhausted, that it scarce clung to his
+bones.
+
+One night he began to hear the crying {108} of infants, the bleating
+of sheep, the wailing of women, the roaring of lions, the murmur of
+an army, and utterly portentous and barbarous voices; so that he
+shrank frightened by the sound ere he saw aught.  He understood
+these to be the insults of devils; and, falling on his knees, he
+signed the cross of Christ on his forehead, and armed with that
+helmet, and girt with the breastplate of faith, he fought more
+valiantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he shuddered to
+hear, and looking round him with anxious eyes:  when, without
+warning, by the bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery horses
+rushing upon him.  But when he had called on Jesus, the earth opened
+suddenly, and the whole pomp was swallowed up before his eyes.  Then
+said he, "The horse and his rider he hath drowned in the sea;" and
+"Some glory themselves in chariots, and some in horses:  but we in
+the name of the Lord our God."  Many were his temptations, and
+various, by day and night, the snares of the devils.  If we were to
+tell them all, they would make the volume too long.  How often did
+women appear to him; how often plenteous banquets when he was
+hungry.  Sometimes as he prayed, a howling wolf ran past him, or a
+barking fox; or as he sang, a fight of gladiators made a show for
+him:  and one of them, as if slain, falling at his feet, prayed for
+sepulture.  He prayed once with his head bowed to the ground, and--
+as is the nature of man--his mind wandered from his prayer, and
+thought of I know not what, when a mocking rider leaped on his back,
+and spurring his sides, and whipping his neck, "Come," he cries,
+"come, run! why do you sleep?" and, laughing loudly over him, asked
+him if he were tired, or would have a feed of barley.
+
+So from his sixteenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltered from
+the heat and rain in a tiny cabin, which he had woven of rush and
+sedge.  Afterwards he built a little cell, which remains to this
+day, four feet wide and five feet high--that is, lower than his own
+stature--and somewhat longer than his small body needed, so that you
+would believe it to be a tomb rather than a dwelling.  He cut his
+hair only once a year, on Easter-day, and lay till his death on the
+bare ground and a layer of rushes, never washing the sack in which
+he was clothed, and saying that it was superfluous to seek for
+cleanliness in haircloth.  Nor did he change his tunic, till the
+first was utterly in rags.  He knew the Scriptures by heart, and
+recited them after his prayers and psalms as if God were present.
+And, because it would take up too much time to tell his great deeds
+one by one, I will give a short account of them.
+
+[Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those attributed to
+St. Antony, and, indeed, to all these great Hermit Fathers.  But it
+is unnecessary to relate more wonders which the reader cannot be
+expected to believe.  These miracles, however, according to St.
+Jerome, were the foundations of Hilarion's fame and public career.
+For he says, "When they were noised abroad, people flowed to him
+eagerly from Syria to Egypt, so that many believed in Christ, and
+professed themselves to be monks--for no one had known of a monk in
+Syria before the holy Hilarion.  He was the first founder and
+teacher of this conversation and study in the province.  The Lord
+Jesus had in Egypt the old man Antony; he had in Palestine the young
+Hilarion . . .  He was raised, indeed, by the Lord to such a glory,
+that the blessed Antony, hearing of his conversation, wrote to him,
+and willingly received his letters; and if rich people came to him
+from the parts of Syria, he said to them, 'Why have you chosen to
+trouble yourselves by coming so far, when you have at home my son
+Hilarion?'  So by his example innumerable monasteries arose
+throughout all Palestine, and all monks came eagerly to him . . .
+But what a care he had, not to pass by any brother, however humble
+or however poor, may be shown by this; that once going into the
+Desert of Kadesh, to visit one of his disciples, he came, with an
+infinite crowd of monks, to Elusa, on the very day, as it chanced,
+on which a yearly solemnity had gathered all the people of the town
+to the Temple of Venus; for they honour her on account of the
+morning star, to the worship of which the nation of the Saracens is
+devoted.  The town itself too is said to be in great part semi-
+barbarous, on account of its remote situation.  Hearing, then, that
+the holy Hilarion was passing by--for he had often cured Saracens
+possessed with daemons--they came out to meet him in crowds, with
+their wives and children, bowing their necks, and crying in the
+Syrian tongue, 'Barech!' that is, 'Bless!'  He received them
+courteously and humbly, entreating them to worship God rather than
+stones, and wept abundantly, looking up to heaven, and promising
+them that, if they would believe in Christ, he would come oftener to
+them.  Wonderful was the grace of the Lord.  They would not let him
+depart till he had laid the foundations of a future church, and
+their priest, crowned as he was, had been consecrated with the sign
+of Christ.
+
+*******
+
+He was now sixty-three years old.  He saw about him a great
+monastery, a multitude of brethren, and crowds who came to be healed
+of diseases and unclean spirits, filling the solitude around; but he
+wept daily, and remembered with incredible regret his ancient life.
+"I have returned to the world," he said, "and received my reward in
+this life.  All Palestine and the neighbouring provinces think me to
+be worth somewhat; while I possess a farm and household goods, under
+the pretext of the brethren's advantage."  On which the brethren,
+and especially Hesychius, who bore him a wondrous love, watched him
+narrowly.
+
+When he had lived thus sadly for two years, Aristaeneta, the
+Prefect's wife, came to him, wishing him to go with her to Antony,
+"I would go," he said, weeping, "if I were not held in the prison of
+this monastery, and if it were of any use.  For two days since, the
+whole world was robbed of such a father."  She believed him, and
+stopped.  And Antony's death was confirmed a few days after.  Others
+may wonder at the signs and portents which he did, at his incredible
+abstinence, his silence, his miracles:  I am astonished at nothing
+so much as that he was able to trample under foot that glory and
+honour.
+
+Bishops and clergy, monks and Christian matrons (a great
+temptation), people of the common sort, great men, too, and judges
+crowded to him, to receive from him blessed bread or oil.  But he
+was thinking of nothing but the desert, till one day he determined
+to set out, and taking an ass (for he was so shrunk with fasting
+that he could hardly walk), he tried to go his way.  The news got
+wind; the desolation and destruction of Palestine would ensue; ten
+thousand souls, men and women, tried to stop his way; but he would
+not hear them.  Smiting on the ground with his staff, he said, "I
+will not make my God a liar.  I cannot bear to see churches ruined,
+the altars of Christ trampled down, the blood of my sons spilt."
+All who heard thought that some secret revelation had been made to
+him:  but yet they would not let him go.  Whereon he would neither
+eat nor drink, and for seven days he persevered fasting, till he had
+his wish, and set out for Bethulia, with forty monks, who could
+march without food till sundown.  On the fifth day he came to
+Pelusium, then to the camp Thebatrum, to see Dracontius; and then to
+Babylon to see Philo.  These two were bishops and confessors exiled
+by Constantius, who favoured the Arian heresy.  Then he came to
+Aphroditon, where he met Barsanes the deacon, who used to carry
+water to Antony on dromedaries, and heard from him that the
+anniversary Antony's death was near, and would be celebrated by a
+vigil at his tomb.  Then through a vast and horrible wilderness, he
+went for three days to a very high mountain, and found there two
+monks, Isaac and Pelusianus, of whom Isaac had been Antony's
+interpreter.
+
+A high and rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at its
+foot.  Some of them the sand sucked up; some formed a little rill,
+with palms without number on its banks.  There you might have seen
+the old man wandering to and fro with Antony's disciples.  "Here,"
+they said, "he used to sing, here to pray, here to work, here to sit
+when tired.  These vines, these shrubs, he planted himself; that
+plot he laid out with his own hands.  This pond to water the garden
+he made with heavy toil; that hoe he kept for many years."  Hilarion
+lay on his bed, and kissed the couch, as if it were still warm.
+Antony's cell was only large enough to let a man lie down in it; and
+on the mountain top, reached by a difficult and winding stair, were
+two other cells of the same size, cut in the stony rock, to which he
+used to retire from the visitors and disciples, when they came to
+the garden.  "You see," said Isaac, "this orchard, with shrubs and
+vegetables.  Three years since a troop of wild asses laid it waste.
+He bade one of their leaders stop; and beat it with his staff.  'Why
+do you eat,' he asked it, 'what you did not sow?'  And after that
+the asses, though they came to drink the waters, never touched his
+plants."
+
+Then Hilarion asked them to show him Antony's grave.  They led him
+apart; but whether they showed it to him, no man knows.  They hid
+it, they said, by Antony's command, lest one Pergamius, who was the
+richest man of those parts, should take the corpse to his villa, and
+build a chapel over it.
+
+Then he went back to Aphroditon, and with only two brothers, dwelt
+in the desert, in such abstinence and silence that (so he said) he
+then first began to serve Christ.  Now it was then three years since
+the heaven had been shut, and the earth dried up:  so that they said
+commonly, the very elements mourned the death of Antony.  But
+Hilarion's fame spread to them; and a great multitude, brown and
+shrunken with famine, cried to him for rain, as to the blessed
+Antony's successor.  He saw them, and grieved over them; and lifting
+up his hand to heaven, obtained rain at once.  But the thirsty and
+sandy land, as soon as it was watered by showers, sent forth such a
+crowd of serpents and venomous animals that people without number
+were stung, and would have died, had they not run together to
+Hilarion.  With oil blessed by him, the husbandmen and shepherds
+touched their wounds, and all were surely healed.
+
+But when he saw that he was marvellously honoured, he went to
+Alexandria, meaning to cross the desert to the further oasis.  And
+because since he was a monk he had never stayed in a city, he turned
+aside to some brethren known to him in the Brucheion {115} not far
+from Alexandria.  They received him with joy:  but, when night came
+on, they suddenly heard him bid his disciples saddle the ass.  In
+vain they entreated, threw themselves across the threshold.  His
+only answer was, that he was hastening away, lest he should bring
+them into trouble; they would soon know that he had not departed
+without good reason.  The next day, men of Gaza came with the
+Prefect's lictors, burst into the monastery, and when they found him
+not--"Is it not true," they said, "what we heard?  He is a sorcerer,
+and knows the future."  For the citizens of Gaza, after Hilarion was
+gone, and Julian had succeeded to the empire, had destroyed his
+monastery, and begged from the Emperor the death of Hilarion and
+Hesychius.  So letters had been sent forth, to seek them throughout
+the world.
+
+So Hilarion went by the pathless wilderness into the Oasis; {116}
+and after a year, more or less--because his fame had gone before him
+even there, and he could not lie hid in the East--he was minded to
+sail away to lonely islands, that the sea at least might hide what
+the land would not.
+
+But just then Hadrian, his disciple, came from Palestine, telling
+him that Julian was slain, and that a Christian emperor was
+reigning; so that he ought to return to the relics of his monastery.
+But he abhorred the thought; and, hiring a camel, went over the vast
+desert to Paraetonia, a sea town of Libya.  Then the wretched
+Hadrian, wishing to go back to Palestine and get himself glory under
+his master's name, packed up all that the brethren had sent by him
+to his master, and went secretly away.  But--as a terror to those
+who despise their masters--he shortly after died of jaundice.
+
+Then, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail for
+Sicily.  And when, almost in the middle of Adria, {117a} he was
+going to sell the Gospels which he had written out with his own hand
+when young, to pay his fare withal, then the captain's son was
+possessed with a devil, and cried out, "Hilarion, servant of God,
+why can we not be safe from thee even at sea?  Give me a little
+respite till I come to the shore, lest, if I be cast out here, I
+fall headlong into the abyss."  Then said he, "If my God lets thee
+stay, stay.  But if he cast thee out, why dost thou lay the blame on
+me, a sinner and a beggar?"  Then he made the captain and the crew
+promise not to betray him:  and the devil was cast out.  But the
+captain would take no fare when he saw that they had nought but
+those Gospels, and the clothes on their backs.  And so Hilarion came
+to Pachynum, a cape of Sicily, {117b} and fled twenty miles inland
+into a deserted farm; and there every day gathered a bundle of
+firewood, and put it on Zananas's back, who took it to the town, and
+bought a little bread thereby.
+
+But it happened, according to that which is written, "A city set on
+an hill cannot be hid," one Scutarius was tormented by a devil in
+the Basilica of St. Peter at Rome; and the unclean spirit cried out
+in him, "A few days since Hilarion, the servant of Christ, landed in
+Sicily, and no man knows him, and he thinks himself hid.  I will go
+and betray him."  And forthwith he took ship with his slaves, and
+came to Pachynum, and, by the leading of the devil, threw himself
+down before the old man's hut, and was cured.
+
+The frequency of his signs in Sicily drew to him sick people and
+religious men in multitudes; and one of the chief men was cured of
+dropsy the same day that he came, and offered Hilarion boundless
+gifts:  but he obeyed the Saviour's saying, "Freely ye have
+received; freely give."
+
+While this was happening in Sicily, Hesychius, his disciple, was
+seeking the old man through the world, searching the shores,
+penetrating the desert, and only certain that, wherever he was, he
+could not long be hid.  So, after three years were past, he heard at
+Methone {118} from a Jew, who was selling old clothes, that a
+prophet of the Christians had appeared in Sicily, working such
+wonders that he was thought to be one of the old saints.  But he
+could give no description of him, having only heard common report.
+He sailed for Pachynum, and there, in a cottage on the shore, heard
+of Hilarion's fame--that which most surprised all being that, after
+so many signs and miracles, he had not accepted even a bit of bread
+from any man.
+
+So, "not to make the story too long," as says St. Jerome, Hesychius
+fell at his master's knees, and watered his feet with tears, till at
+last he raised him up.  But two or three days after he heard from
+Zananas, how the old man could dwell no longer in these regions, but
+was minded to go to some barbarous nation, where both his name and
+his speech should be unknown.  So he took him to Epidaurus, {119a} a
+city of Dalmatia, where he lay a few days in a little farm, and yet
+could not be hid; for a dragon of wondrous size--one of those which,
+in the country speech, they call boas, because they are so huge that
+they can swallow an ox--laid waste the province, and devoured not
+only herds and flocks, but husbandmen and shepherds, which he drew
+to him by the force of his breath. {119b}  Hilarion commanded a pile
+of wood to be prepared, and having prayed to Christ, and called the
+beast forth, commanded him to ascend the pile, and having put fire
+under, burnt him before all the people.  Then fretting over what he
+should do, or whither he should turn, he went alone over the world
+in imagination, and mourned that, when his tongue was silent, his
+miracles still spoke.
+
+In those days, at the earthquake over the whole world, which befell
+after Julian's death, the sea broke its bounds; and, as if God was
+threatening another flood, or all was returning to the primaeval
+chaos, ships were carried up steep rocks, and hung there.  But when
+the Epidauritans saw roaring waves and mountains of water borne
+towards the shore, fearing lest the town should be utterly
+overthrown, they went out to the old man, and, as if they were
+leading him out to battle, stationed him on the shore.  And when he
+had marked three signs of the Cross upon the sand, and stretched out
+his hands against the waves, it is past belief to what a height the
+sea swelled, and stood up before him, and then, raging long as if
+indignant at the barrier, fell back little by little into itself.
+
+All Epidaurus, and all that region, talk of this to this day; and
+mothers teach it their children, that they may hand it down to
+posterity.  Truly, that which was said to the Apostles, "If ye
+believe, ye shall say to this mountain, Be removed, and cast into
+the sea; and it shall be done," can be fulfilled even to the letter,
+if we have the faith of the Apostles, and such as the Lord commanded
+them to have.  For which is more strange, that a mountain should
+descend into the sea; or that mountains of water should stiffen of a
+sudden, and, firm as a rock only at an old man's feet, should flow
+softly everywhere else?  All the city wondered; and the greatness of
+the sign was bruited abroad even at Salo.
+
+When the old man discovered that, he fled secretly by night in a
+little boat, and finding a merchantman after two days, sailed for
+Cyprus.  Between Maleae and Cythera {121} they were met by pirates,
+who had left their vessels under the shore, and came up in two large
+galleys, worked not with sails, but oars.  As the rowers swept the
+billows, all on board began to tremble, weep, run about, get
+handspikes ready, and, as if one messenger was not enough, vie with
+each other in telling the old man that pirates were at hand.  He
+looked out at them and smiled.  Then turning to his disciples, "O ye
+of little faith," he said; "wherefore do ye doubt?  Are these more
+in number than Pharaoh's army?  Yet they were all drowned when God
+so willed."  While he spoke, the hostile keels, with foaming beaks,
+were but a short stone's throw off.  He then stood on the ship's
+bow, and stretching out his hand against them, "Let it be enough,"
+he said, "to have come thus far."
+
+O wondrous faith!  The boats instantly sprang back, and made stern-
+way, although the oars impelled them in the opposite direction.  The
+pirates were astonished, having no wish to return back-foremost, and
+struggled with all their might to reach the ship; but were carried
+to the shore again, much faster than they had come.
+
+I pass over the rest, lest by telling every story I make the volume
+too long.  This only I will say, that, while he sailed prosperously
+through the Cyclades, he heard the voices of foul spirits, calling
+here and there out of the towns and villages, and running together
+on the beaches.  So he came to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous
+once in poets' songs, which now, shaken down by frequent
+earthquakes, only shows what it has been of yore by the foundations
+of its ruins.  There he dwelt meanly near the second milestone out
+of the city, rejoicing much that he was living quietly for a few
+days.  But not three weeks were past, ere throughout the whole
+island whosoever had unclean spirits began to cry that Hilarion the
+servant of Christ was come, and that they must hasten to him.
+Salonica, Curium, Lapetha, and the other towns, all cried this
+together, most saying that they knew Hilarion, and that he was truly
+a servant of God; but where he was they knew not.  Within a month,
+nearly 200 men and women were gathered together to him.  Whom when
+he saw, grieving that they would not suffer him to rest, raging, as
+it were to revenge himself, he scourged them with such an instancy
+of prayer, that some were cured at once, some after two or three
+days, and all within a week.
+
+So staying there two years, and always meditating flight, he sent
+Hesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, visit the ashes of
+the monastery, and return in the spring.  When he returned, and
+Hilarion was longing to sail again to Egypt,--that is, to the cattle
+pastures, {123a} because there is no Christian there, but only a
+fierce and barbarous folk,--he persuaded the old man rather to
+withdraw into some more secret spot in the island itself.  And
+looking round it long till he had examined it all over, he led him
+away twelve miles from the sea, among lonely and rough mountains,
+where they could hardly climb up, creeping on hands and knees.  When
+they were within, they beheld a spot terrible and very lonely,
+surrounded with trees, which had, too, waters falling from the brow
+of a cliff, and a most pleasant little garden, and many fruit-trees-
+-the fruit of which, however, Hilarion never ate--and near it the
+ruin of a very ancient temple, {123b} out of which (so he and his
+disciples averred) the voices of so many daemons resounded day and
+night, that you would have fancied an army there.  With which he was
+exceedingly delighted, because he had his foes close to him; and
+dwelt therein five years; and (while Hesychius often visited him) he
+was much cheered up in this last period of his life, because owing
+to the roughness and difficulty of the ground, and the multitude of
+ghosts (as was commonly reported), few, or none, ever dare climb up
+to him.
+
+But one day, going out of the little garden, he saw a man paralytic
+in all his limbs, lying before the gate; and having asked Hesychius
+who he was, and how he had come, he was told that the man was the
+steward of a small estate, and that to him the garden, in which they
+were, belonged.  Hilarion, weeping over him, and stretching a hand
+to him as he lay, said, "I say to thee, in the name of Jesus Christ
+our Lord, arise and walk."  Wonderful was the rapidity of the
+effect.  The words were yet in his mouth, when the limbs,
+strengthened, raised the man upon his feet.  As soon as it was
+known, the needs of many conquered the difficulty of the ground, and
+the want of a path, while all in the neighbourhood watched nothing
+so carefully, as that he should not by some plan slip away from
+them.  For the report had been spread about him, that he could not
+remain long in the same place; which nevertheless he did not do from
+any caprice, or childishness, but to escape honour and importunity;
+for he always longed after silence, and an ignoble life.
+
+So, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was absent, he
+wrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his own hand,
+leaving to Hesychius all his riches; namely, his Gospel-book, and a
+sackcloth-shirt, hood, and mantle.  For his servant had died a few
+days before.  Many religious men came to him from Paphos while he
+was sick, especially because they had heard that he had said that
+now he was going to migrate to the Lord, and be freed from the
+chains of the body.  There came also Constantia, a high-born lady,
+whose son-in-law and daughter he had delivered from death by
+anointing them with oil.  And he made them all swear, that he should
+not be kept an hour after his death, but covered up with earth in
+that same garden, clothed, as he was, in his haircloth shirt, hood,
+and rustic cloak.  And now little heat was left in his body, and
+nothing of a living man was left, except his reason:  and yet, with
+open eyes, he went on saying, "Go forth, what fearest thou?  Go
+forth, my soul, what doubtest thou?  Nigh seventy years hast thou
+served Christ, and dost thou fear death?"  With these words, he
+breathed out his soul.  They covered him forthwith in earth, and
+told them in the city that he was buried, before it was known that
+he was dead.
+
+The holy man Hesychius heard this in Palestine; reached Cyprus; and
+pretending, in order to prevent suspicion on the part of the
+neighbours, who guarded the spot diligently, that he wished to dwell
+in that same garden, he, after some ten months, with extreme peril
+of his life, stole the corpse.  He carried it to Maiuma, followed by
+whole crowds of monks and townsfolk, and placed it in the old
+monastery, with the shirt, hood, and cloak unhurt; the whole body
+perfect, as if alive, and fragrant with such strong odour, that it
+seemed to have had unguents poured over it.
+
+I think that I ought not, in the end of my book, to be silent about
+the devotion of that most holy woman Constantia, who, hearing that
+the body of Hilarion, the servant of God, was gone to Palestine,
+straightway gave up the ghost, proving by her very death her true
+love for the servant of God.  For she was wont to pass nights in
+watching his sepulchre, and to converse with him as if he were
+present, in order to assist her prayers.  You may see, even to this
+day, a wonderful contention between the folk of Palestine and the
+Cypriots, the former saying that they have the body, the latter that
+they have the soul, of Hilarion.  And yet, in both places, great
+signs are worked daily; but most in the little garden in Cyprus;
+perhaps because he loved that place the best.
+
+
+Such is the story of Hilarion.  His name still lingers in "the place
+he loved the best."  "To this day," I quote this fact from M. de
+Montalembert's work, "the Cypriots, confounding in their memories
+legends of good and of evil, the victories of the soul and the
+triumph of the senses, give to the ruins of one of those strong
+castles built by the Lusignans, which command their isle, the double
+name of the Castle of St. Hilarion, and the Castle of the God of
+Love."  But how intense must have been the longing for solitude
+which drove the old man to travel on foot from Syria to the Egyptian
+desert, across the pathless westward waste, even to the Oasis and
+the utmost limits of the Egyptian province; and then to Sicily, to
+the Adriatic, and at last to a distant isle of Greece.  And shall we
+blame him for that longing?  He seems to have done his duty
+earnestly, according to his own light, towards his fellow-creatures
+whenever he met them.  But he seems to have found that noise and
+crowd, display and honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own
+soul; and in order that he might be a better man he desired again
+and again to flee, that he might collect himself, and be alone with
+Nature and with God.  We, here in England, like the old Greeks and
+Romans, dwellers in the busy mart of civilized life, have got to
+regard mere bustle as so integral an element of human life, that we
+consider a love of solitude a mark of eccentricity, and, if we meet
+any one who loves to be alone, are afraid that he must needs be
+going mad:  and that with too great solitude comes the danger of too
+great self-consciousness, and even at last of insanity, none can
+doubt.  But still we must remember, on the other hand, that without
+solitude, without contemplation, without habitual collection and re-
+collection of our own selves from time to time, no great purpose is
+carried out, and no great work can be done; and that it is the
+bustle and hurry of our modern life which causes shallow thought,
+unstable purpose, and wasted energy, in too many who would be better
+and wiser, stronger and happier, if they would devote more time to
+silence and meditation; if they would commune with their own heart
+in their chamber, and be still.  Even in art and in mechanical
+science, those who have done great work upon the earth have been men
+given to solitary meditation.  When Brindley, the engineer, it is
+said, had a difficult problem to solve, he used to go to bed, and
+stay there till he had worked it out.  Turner, the greatest nature-
+painter of this or any other age, spent hours upon hours in mere
+contemplation of nature, without using his pencil at all.  It is
+said of him that he was seen to spend a whole day, sitting upon a
+rock, and throwing pebbles into a lake; and when at evening his
+fellow painters showed their day's sketches, and rallied him upon
+having done nothing, he answered them, "I have done this at least:
+I have learnt how a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it."
+And if this silent labour, this steadfast thought are required even
+for outward arts and sciences, how much more for the highest of all
+arts, the deepest of all sciences, that which involves the
+questions--who are we? and where are we? who is God? and what are we
+to God, and He to us?--namely, the science of being good, which
+deals not with time merely, but with eternity.  No retirement, no
+loneliness, no period of earnest and solemn meditation, can be
+misspent which helps us towards that goal.
+
+And therefore it was that Hilarion longed to be alone; alone with
+God; and with Nature, which spoke to him of God.  For these old
+hermits, though they neither talked nor wrote concerning scenery,
+nor painted pictures of it as we do now, had many of them a clear
+and intense instinct of the beauty and the meaning of outward
+Nature; as Antony surely had when he said that the world around was
+his book, wherein he read the mysteries of God.  Hilarion seems,
+from his story, to have had a special craving for the sea.  Perhaps
+his early sojourn on the low sandhills of the Philistine shore, as
+he watched the tideless Mediterranean, rolling and breaking for ever
+upon the same beach, had taught him to say with the old prophet as
+he thought of the wicked and still half idolatrous cities of the
+Philistine shore, "Fear ye not? saith the Lord; Will ye not tremble
+at my presence who have placed the sand for the bound of the sea,
+for a perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it?  And though the
+waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail; though they
+roar, yet can they not pass over.  But this people has a revolted
+and rebellious heart, they are revolted and gone."  Perhaps again,
+looking down from the sunny Sicilian cliffs of Taormino, or through
+the pine-clad gulfs and gullies of the Cypriote hills upon the blue
+Mediterranean below,
+
+
+"And watching from his mountain wall
+The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl,"
+
+
+he had enjoyed and profited by all those images which that sight has
+called up in so many minds before and since.  To him it may be, as
+to the Psalmist, the storm-swept sea pictured the instability of
+mortal things, while secure upon his cliff he said with the
+Psalmist, "The Lord hath set my feet upon a rock, and ordered my
+goings;" and again, "The wicked are like a troubled sea, casting up
+mire and dirt."  Often, again, looking upon that far horizon, must
+his soul have been drawn, as many a soul has been drawn since, to
+it, and beyond it, as it were into a region of boundless freedom and
+perfect peace, while he said again with David, "Oh that I had wings
+like a dove; then would I flee away and be at rest!" and so have
+found, in the contemplation of the wide ocean, a substitute at least
+for the contemplation of those Eastern deserts which seemed the
+proper home for the solitary and meditative philosopher.
+
+For indeed in no northern country can such situations be found for
+the monastic cell as can be found in those great deserts which
+stretch from Syria to Arabia, from Arabia to Egypt, from Egypt to
+Africa properly so called.  Here and there a northern hermit found,
+as Hilarion found, a fitting home by the seaside, on some lonely
+island or storm-beat rock, like St. Cuthbert, off the coast of
+Northumberland; like St. Rule, on his rock at St. Andrew's; and St.
+Columba, with his ever-venerable company of missionaries, on Iona.
+But inland, the fens and the forests were foul, unwholesome,
+depressing, the haunts of fever, ague, delirium, as St. Guthlac
+found at Crowland, and St. Godric at Finkhale. {130}  The vast pine-
+woods which clothe the Alpine slopes, the vast forests of beech and
+oak which then spread over France and Germany, gave in time shelter
+to many a holy hermit.  But their gloom, their unwholesomeness, and
+the severity of the climate, produced in them, as in most northern
+ascetics, a temper of mind more melancholy, and often more fierce;
+more given to passionate devotion, but more given also to dark
+superstition and cruel self-torture, than the genial climate of the
+desert produced in old monks of the East.  When we think of St.
+Antony upon his mountain, we must not picture to ourselves, unless
+we, too, have been in the East, such a mountain as we have ever
+seen.  We must not think of a brown northern moorland, sad, savage,
+storm-swept, snow-buried, save in the brief and uncertain summer
+months.  We must not picture to ourselves an Alp, with thundering
+avalanches, roaring torrents, fierce alternations of heat and cold,
+uninhabitable by mortal man, save during that short period of the
+year when the maidens in the sennhutt watch the cattle upon the
+upland pastures.  We must picture to ourselves mountains blazing day
+after day, month after month, beneath the glorious sun and cloudless
+sky, in an air so invigorating that the Arabs can still support life
+there upon a few dates each day; and where, as has been said,--"Man
+needs there hardly to eat, drink, or sleep, for the act of breathing
+will give life enough;" an atmosphere of such telescopic clearness
+as to explain many of the strange stories which have been lately
+told of Antony's seemingly preternatural powers of vision; a
+colouring, which, when painters dare to put it on canvas, seems to
+our eyes, accustomed to the quiet greys and greens of England,
+exaggerated and impossible--distant mountains, pink and lilac,
+quivering in pale blue haze--vast sheets of yellow sand, across
+which the lonely rock or a troop of wild asses or gazelles throw
+intense blue-black shadows--rocks and cliffs not shrouded, as here,
+in soil, much less in grass and trees, or spotted with lichens and
+stained with veins; but keeping each stone its natural colour, as it
+wastes--if, indeed, it wastes at all--under the action of the all
+but rainless air, which has left the paintings on the old Egyptian
+temples fresh and clear for thousands of years; rocks, orange and
+purple, black, white, and yellow; and again and again beyond them
+{131} glimpses, it may be, of the black Nile, and of the long green
+garden of Egypt, and of the dark blue sea.  The eastward view from
+Antony's old home must be one of the most glorious in the world,
+save for its want of verdure and of life.  For Antony, as he looked
+across the blue waters of the Gulf of Akaba, across which, far
+above, the Israelites had passed in old times, could see the sacred
+goal of their pilgrimage, the red granite peaks of Sinai, flaming
+against the blue sky with that intensity of hue which is scarcely
+exaggerated, it is said, by the bright scarlet colour in which Sinai
+is always painted in mediaeval illuminations.
+
+But the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us, was
+not, of course, what produced the deepest effect upon the minds of
+those old hermits.  They enjoyed Nature, not so much for her beauty,
+as for her perfect peace.  Day by day the rocks remained the same.
+Silently out of the Eastern desert, day by day, the rising sun threw
+aloft those arrows of light, which the old Greeks had named "the
+rosy fingers of the dawn."  Silently he passed in full blaze almost
+above their heads throughout the day; and silently he dipped behind
+the western desert in a glory of crimson and orange, green and
+purple; and without an interval of twilight, in a moment, all the
+land was dark, and the stars leapt out, not twinkling as in our
+damper climate here, but hanging like balls of white fire in that
+purple southern night, through which one seems to look beyond the
+stars into the infinite abyss, and towards the throne of God
+himself.  Day after day, night after night, that gorgeous pageant
+passed over the poor hermit's head without a sound; and though sun
+and moon and planet might change their places as the year rolled
+round, the earth beneath his feet seemed not to change.  Every
+morning he saw the same peaks in the distance, the same rocks, the
+same sand-heaps around his feet.  He never heard the tinkle of a
+running stream.  For weeks together he did not even hear the rushing
+of the wind.  Now and then a storm might sweep up the pass, whirling
+the sand in eddies, and making the desert for a while literally a
+"howling wilderness;" and when that was passed all was as it had
+been before.  The very change of seasons must have been little
+marked to him, save by the motions, if he cared to watch them, of
+the stars above; for vegetation there was none to mark the
+difference between summer and winter.  In spring of course the
+solitary date-palm here and there threw out its spathe of young
+green leaves, to add to the number of those which, grey or brown,
+hung drooping down the stem, withering but not decaying for many a
+year in that dry atmosphere; or perhaps the accacia bushes looked
+somewhat gayer for a few weeks, and the Retama broom, from which as
+well as from the palm leaves he plaited his baskets, threw out its
+yearly crop of twigs; but any greenness there might be in the
+vegetation of spring, turned grey in a few weeks beneath that
+burning sun; and be rest of the year was one perpetual summer of
+dust and glare and rest.  Amid such scenes they had full time for
+thought.  Nature and man alike left it in peace; while the labour
+required for sustaining life (and the monk wished for nothing more
+than to sustain mere life) was very light.  Wherever water could be
+found, the hot sun and the fertile soil would repay by abundant
+crops, perhaps twice in the year, the toil of scratching the ground
+and putting in the seed.  Moreover, the labour of the husbandman, so
+far from being adverse to the contemplative life, is of all
+occupations, it may be, that which promotes most quiet and wholesome
+meditation in the mind which cares to meditate.  The life of the
+desert, when once the passions of youth were conquered, seems to
+have been not only a happy, but a healthy one.  And when we remember
+that the monk, clothed from head to foot in woollen, and sheltered,
+too, by his sheepskin cape, escaped those violent changes of
+temperature which produce in the East so many fatal diseases, and
+which were so deadly to the linen-clothed inhabitants of the green
+lowlands of the Nile, we need not be surprised when we read of the
+vast longevity of many of the old abbots; and of their death, not by
+disease, but by gentle, and as it were wholesome natural decay.
+
+But if their life was easy, it was surely not ill-spent.  If having
+few wants, and those soon supplied, they found too much time for the
+luxury of quiet thought, those need not blame them, who having many
+wants, and those also easily supplied, are wont to spend their
+superfluous leisure in any luxury save that of thought, above all
+save that of thought concerning God.  For it was upon God that these
+men, whatever their defects or ignorances may have been, had set
+their minds.  That man was sent into the world to know and to love,
+to obey and thereby to glorify, the Maker of his being, was the
+cardinal point of their creed, as it has been of every creed which
+ever exercised any beneficial influence on the minds of men.  Dean
+Milman in his "History of Christianity," vol. iii. page 294, has,
+while justly severe upon the failings and mistakes of the Eastern
+monks, pointed out with equal justice that the great desire of
+knowing God was the prime motive in the mind of all their best men:-
+-
+
+"In some regions of the East, the sultry and oppressive heat, the
+general relaxation of the physical system, dispose constitutions of
+a certain temperament to a dreamy inertness.  The indolence and
+prostration of the body produce a kind of activity in the mind, if
+that may properly be called activity which is merely giving loose to
+the imagination and the emotions as they follow out the wild train
+of incoherent thought, or are agitated by impulses of spontaneous
+and ungoverned feeling.  Ascetic Christianity ministered new aliment
+to this common propensity.  It gave an object, both vague and
+determinate enough to stimulate, yet never to satisfy or exhaust.
+The regularity of stated hours of prayer, and of a kind of idle
+industry, weaving mats or plaiting baskets, alternated with periods
+of morbid reflection on the moral state of the soul, and of mystic
+communion with the Deity.  It cannot indeed be wondered that this
+new revelation, as it were, of the Deity, this profound and rational
+certainty of his existence, this infelt consciousness of his
+perpetual presence, these as yet unknown impressions of his
+infinity, his power, and his love, should give a higher character to
+this eremitical enthusiasm, and attract men of loftier and more
+vigorous minds within its sphere.  It was not merely the
+pusillanimous dread of encountering the trials of life which urged
+the humbler spirits to seek a safe retirement; or the natural love
+of peace, and the weariness and satiety of life, which commended
+this seclusion to those who were too gentle to mingle in, or who
+were exhausted with, the unprofitable turmoil of the world; nor was
+it always the anxiety to mortify the rebellious and refractory body
+with more advantage.  The one absorbing idea of the Majesty of the
+Godhead almost seemed to swallow up all other considerations.  The
+transcendent nature of the Triune Deity, the relation of the
+different persons of the Godhead to each other, seemed the only
+worthy object of men's contemplative faculties."
+
+And surely the contemplation of the Godhead is no unworthy
+occupation for the immortal soul of any human being.  But it would
+be unjust to these hermits did we fancy that their religion
+consisted merely even in this; much less that it consisted merely in
+dreams and visions, or in mere stated hours of prayer.  That all did
+not fulfil the ideal of their profession is to be expected, and is
+frankly confessed by the writers of the Lives of the Fathers; that
+there were serious faults, even great crimes, among them is not
+denied.  Those who wrote concerning them were so sure that they were
+on the whole good men, that they were not at all afraid of saying
+that some of them were bad,--not afraid, even, of recording, though
+only in dark hints, the reason why the Arab tribes around once rose
+and laid waste six churches with their monasteries in the
+neighbourhood of Scetis.  St. Jerome in like manner does not
+hesitate to pour out bitter complaints against many of the monks in
+the neighbourhood of Bethlehem.  It is notorious, too, that many
+became monks merely to escape slavery, hunger, or conscription into
+the army:  Unruly and fanatical spirits, too, grew fond of
+wandering.  Bands of monks on the great roads and public places of
+the empire, Massalians or Gyrovagi, as they were called, wandered
+from province to province, and cell to cell, living on the alms
+which they extorted from the pious, and making up too often for
+protracted fasts by outbursts of gluttony and drunkenness.  And
+doubtless the average monk, even when well-conducted himself and in
+a well-conducted monastery, was, like average men of every creed,
+rank, or occupation, a very common-place person, acting from very
+mixed and often very questionable motives; and valuing his shaven
+crown and his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of prayer and his
+implicit obedience to his abbot, more highly than he valued the fear
+and the love of God.
+
+It is so in every creed.  With some, even now, the strict observance
+of the Sabbath; with others, outward reverence at the Holy
+Communion; with others, the frequent hearing of sermons which suit
+heir own views; with others, continual reading of pious books (on
+the lessons of which they do not act), covers, instead of charity, a
+multitude of sins.  But the saint, abbot, or father among these
+hermits was essentially the man who was not a common-place person;
+who was more than an ascetic, and more than a formalist; who could
+pierce beyond the letter to the spirit, and see, beyond all forms of
+doctrine or modes of life, that virtue was the one thing needful.
+
+The Historia Lausiaca and the Pratum Spirituale have many a story
+and many a saying as weighty, beautiful, and instructive now as they
+were fifteen hundred years ago; stories which show that graces and
+virtues such as the world had never seen before, save in the
+persecuted and half-unknown Christians of the first three centuries,
+were cultivated to noble fruitfulness by the monks of the East.  For
+their humility, obedience, and reverence for their superiors it is
+not wise to praise them just now; for those are qualities which are
+not at present considered virtues, but rather (save by the soldier)
+somewhat abject vices; and indeed they often carried them, as they
+did their abstinence, to an extravagant pitch.  But it must be
+remembered, in fairness, that if they obeyed their supposed
+superiors, they had first chosen their superiors themselves; that as
+the becoming a monk at all was an assertion of self-will and
+independence, whether for good or evil, so their reverence for their
+abbots was a voluntary loyalty to one who they fancied had a right
+to rule them, because he was wiser and better than they; a feeling
+which some have found not degrading, but ennobling; and the parent,
+not of servility, but of true freedom.  And as for the obsolete
+virtue of humility, that still remains true which a voice said to
+Antony, when he saw the snares which were spread over the whole
+earth, and asked, sighing, "Who can pass safely over these?" and the
+voice answered, "Humility alone."
+
+For the rest, if the Sermon on the Mount mean anything, as a
+practical rule of life for Christian men, then these monks were
+surely justified in trying to obey it, for to obey it they surely
+tried.
+
+The Words of the Elders, to which I have already alluded, and the
+Lausiaca of Palladius likewise, are full of precious scraps of moral
+wisdom, sayings, and anecdotes, full of nobleness, purity, pathos,
+insight into character, and often instinct with a quiet humour,
+which seems to have been, in the Old world, peculiar to the
+Egyptians, as it is, in the New, almost peculiar to the old-
+fashioned God-fearing Scotsman.
+
+Take these examples, chosen almost at random.
+
+Serapion the Sindonite was so called because he wore nothing but a
+sindon, or linen shirt.  Though he could not read, he could say all
+the Scriptures by heart.  He could not (says Palladius) sit quiet in
+his cell, but wandered over the world in utter poverty, so that he
+"attained to perfect impassibility, for with that nature he was
+born; for there are differences of natures, not of substances."
+
+So says Palladius, and goes on to tell how Serapion sold himself to
+certain play-actors for twenty gold pieces, and laboured for them as
+a slave till he had won them to Christ, and made them renounce the
+theatre; after which he made his converts give the money to the
+poor, and went his way.
+
+On one of his journeys he came to Athens, and, having neither money
+nor goods, starved there for three days.  But on the fourth he went
+up, seemingly to the Areopagus, and cried, "Men of Athens, help!"
+And when the crowd questioned him, he told them that he had, since
+he left Egypt, fallen into the hands of three usurers, two of whom
+he had satisfied, but the third would not leave him.
+
+On being promised assistance, he told them that his three usurers
+were avarice, sensuality, and hunger.  Of the two first he was rid,
+having neither money nor passions:  but, as he had eaten nothing for
+three days, the third was beginning to be troublesome, and demanded
+its usual debt, without paying which he could not well live; whereon
+certain philosophers, seemly amused by his apologue, gave him a gold
+coin.  He went to a baker's shop, laid down the coin, took up a
+loaf, and went out of Athens for ever.  Then the philosophers knew
+that he was endowed with true virtue; and when they had paid the
+baker the price of the loaf, got back their gold.
+
+When he went into Lacedaemon, he heard that a great man there was a
+Manichaean, with all his family, though otherwise a good man.  To
+him Serapion sold himself as a slave, and within two years converted
+him and his wife, who thenceforth treated him not as a slave, but as
+their own brother.
+
+After awhile, this "Spiritual adamant," as Palladius calls him,
+bought his freedom of them, and sailed for Rome.  At sundown first
+the sailors, and then the passengers, brought out each man his
+provisions, and ate.  Serapion sat still.  The crew fancied that he
+was sea-sick; but when he had passed a second, third, and fourth day
+fasting, they asked, "Man, why do you not eat?"  "Because I have
+nothing to eat."  They thought that some one had stolen his baggage:
+but when they found that the man had absolutely nothing, they began
+to ask him not only how he would keep alive, but how he would pay
+his fare.  He only answered, "That he had nothing; that they might
+cast him out of the ship where they had found him."
+
+But they answered, "Not for a hundred gold pieces, so favourable was
+the wind," and fed him all the way to Rome, where we lose sight of
+him and his humour.
+
+To go on with almost chance quotations:--
+
+Some monks were eating at a festival, and one said to the serving
+man, "I eat nothing cooked; tell them to bring me salt."  The
+serving man began to talk loudly:  "That brother eats no cooked
+meat; bring him a little salt."  Quoth Abbot Theodore:  "It were
+more better for thee, brother, to eat meat in thy cell than to hear
+thyself talked about in the presence of thy brethren."
+
+Again:  a brother came to Abbot Silvanus, in Mount Sinai, and found
+the brethren working, and said, "Why labour you for the meat which
+perisheth?  Mary chose the good part."  The abbot said, "Give him a
+book to read, and put him in an empty cell."  About the ninth hour
+the brother looked out, to see if he would be called to eat, and at
+last came to the abbot, and asked, "Do not the brethren eat to-day,
+abbot?"  "Yes."  "Then why was not I called?"  Then quoth Abbot
+Silvanus:  "Thou art a spiritual man:  and needest not their food.
+We are carnal, and must eat, because we work:  but thou hast chosen
+the better part."  Whereat the monk was ashamed.
+
+As was also John the dwarf, who wanted to be "without care like the
+angels, doing nothing but praise God."  So he threw away his cloak,
+left his brother the abbot, and went into the desert.  But after
+seven days he came back, and knocked at the door.  "Who is there?"
+asked his brother.  "John."  "Nay, John is turned into an angel, and
+is no more among men."  So he left him outside all night; and in the
+morning gave him to understand that if he was a man he must work,
+but that if he was an angel, he had no need to live in a cell.
+
+Consider again the saying of the great Antony, when some brethren
+were praising another in his presence.  But Antony tried him, and
+found that he could not bear an injury.  Then said the old man,
+"Brother, thou art like a house with an ornamented porch, while the
+thieves break into it by the back door."
+
+Or this, of Abbot Isidore, when the devil tempted him to despair,
+and told him that he would be lost after all:  "If I do go into
+torment, I shall still find you below me there."
+
+Or this, of Zeno the Syrian, when some Egyptian monks came to him
+and began accusing themselves:  "The Egyptians hide the virtues
+which they have, and confess vices which they have not.  The Syrians
+and Greeks boast of virtues which they have not, and hide vices
+which they have."
+
+Or this:  One old man said to another, "I am dead to this world."
+"Do not trust yourself," quoth the other, "till you are out of this
+world.  If you are dead, the devil is not."
+
+Two old men lived in the same cell, and had never disagreed.  Said
+one to the other, "Let us have just one quarrel, like other men."
+Quoth the other:  "I do not know what a quarrel is like."  Quoth the
+first:  "Here--I will put a brick between us, and say that it is
+mine:  and you shall say it is not mine; and over that let us have a
+contention and a squabble."  But when they put the brick between
+them, and one said, "It is mine," the other said, "I hope it is
+mine."  And when the first said, "It is mine, it is not yours," he
+answered, "If it is yours, take it."  So they could not find out how
+to have a quarrel.
+
+Anger, malice, revenge, were accursed things in the eyes of these
+men.  There was enough of them, and too much, among their monks; but
+far less, doubt not, than in the world outside.  For within the
+monastery it was preached against, repressed, punished; and when
+repented of, forgiven, with loving warnings and wise rules against
+future transgression.
+
+Abbot Agathon used to say, "I never went to sleep with a quarrel
+against any man; nor did I, as far as lay in me, let one who had a
+quarrel against me sleep till he had made peace."
+
+Abbot Isaac was asked why the devils feared him so much.  "Since I
+was made a monk," he said, "I settled with myself that no angry word
+should come out of my mouth."
+
+An old man said, "Anger arises from these four things:  from the
+lust of avarice, in giving and receiving; from loving one's own
+opinion; from wishing to be honoured; and from fancying oneself a
+teacher and hoping to be wiser than everybody.  And anger obscures
+human reason by these four ways:  if a man hate his neighbour; or if
+he envy him; or if he look on him as nought; or if he speak evil of
+him."
+
+A brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius, told his
+story, and said, "I wish to avenge myself, father."  The abbot
+begged him to leave vengeance to God:  but when he refused, said,
+"Then let us pray."  Whereon the old man rose, and said, "God, thou
+art not necessary to us any longer, that thou shouldest be careful
+of us:  for we, as this brother says, both will and can avenge
+ourselves."  At which that brother fell at his feet, and begged
+pardon, promising never to strive with his enemy.
+
+Abbot Poemen said often, "Let malice never overcome thee.  If any
+man do thee harm, repay him with good, that thou mayest conquer evil
+with good."
+
+In a congregation at Scetis, when many men's lives and conversation
+had been talked over, Abbot Pior held his tongue.  After it was
+over, he went out, and filled a sack with sand, and put it on his
+back.  Then he took a little bag, filled it likewise with sand, and
+carried it before him.  And when the brethren asked him what he
+meant, he said, "The sack behind is my own sins, which are very
+many:  yet I have cast them behind my back, and will not see them,
+nor weep over them.  But I have put these few sins of my brother's
+before my eyes, and am tormenting myself over them, and condemning
+my brother."
+
+A brother having committed a fault, went to Antony, and his brethren
+followed, upbraiding him, and wanting to bring him back; while he
+denied having done the wrong.  Abbot Paphnutius was there, and spoke
+a parable to them:--
+
+"I saw on the river bank a man sunk in the mud up to his knees.  And
+men came to pull him out, and thrust him in up to the neck."
+
+Then said Antony of Paphnutius, "Behold a man who can indeed save
+souls."
+
+Abbot Macarius was going up to the mountain of Nitria, and sent his
+disciple on before.  The disciple met an idol-priest hurrying on,
+and carrying a great beam:  to whom he cried, "Where art thou
+running, devil?"  At which he was wroth, and beat him so that he
+left him half dead, and then ran on, and met Macarius, who said,
+"Salvation to thee, labourer, salvation!"  He answered, wondering,
+"What good hast thou seen in me that thou salutest me?"  "Because I
+saw thee working and running, though ignorantly."  To whom the
+priest said, "Touched by thy salutation, I knew thee to be a great
+servant of God; for another--I know not who--miserable monk met me
+and insulted me, and I gave him blows for his words."  Then laying
+hold of Macarius's feet he said, "Unless thou make me a monk I will
+not leave hold of thee."
+
+After all, of the best of these men are told (with much honesty)
+many sayings which show that they felt in their minds and hearts
+that the spirit was above the letter:  sayings which show that they
+had at least at times glimpses of a simpler and more possible
+virtue; foretastes of a perfection more human, and it may be more
+divine.
+
+"Better," said Abbot Hyperichius, "to eat flesh and drink wine, than
+to eat our brethren's flesh with bitter words."
+
+A brother asked an elder, "Give me, father one thing which I may
+keep, and be saved thereby."  The elder answered, "If thou canst be
+injured and insulted, and hear and be silent, that is a great thing,
+and above all the other commandments."
+
+One of the elders used to say, "Whatever a man shrinks from let him
+not do to another.  Dost thou shrink if any man detracts from thee?
+Speak not ill of another.  Dost thou shrink if any man slanders
+thee, or if any man takes aught from thee?  Do not that or the like
+to another man.  For he that shall have kept this saying, will find
+it suffice for his salvation."
+
+"The nearer," said Abbot Muthues, "a man approaches God, the more he
+will see himself to be a sinner."
+
+Abbot Sisois, when he lay dying, begged to live a little longer,
+that he might repent; and when they wondered, he told them that he
+had not yet even begun repentance.  Whereby they saw that he was
+perfect in the fear of the Lord.
+
+But the most startling confession of all must have been that wrung
+from the famous Macarius the elder.  He had been asked once by a
+brother, to tell him a rule by which he might be saved; and his
+answer had been this:--to fly from men, to sit in his cell, and to
+lament for his sins continually; and, what was above all virtues, to
+keep his tongue in order as well as his appetite.
+
+But (whether before or after that answer is not said) he gained a
+deeper insight into true virtue, on the day when (like Antony when
+he was reproved by the example of the tanner in Alexandria) he heard
+a voice telling him that he was inferior to two women who dwelt in
+the nearest town.  Catching up his staff, like Antony, he went off
+to see the wonder.  The women, when questioned by him as to their
+works, were astonished.  They had been simply good wives for years
+past, married to two brothers, and living in the same house.  But
+when pressed by him, they confessed that they had never said a foul
+word to each other, and never quarrelled.  At one time they had
+agreed together to retire into a nunnery, but could not, for all
+their prayers, obtain the consent of their husbands.  On which they
+had both made an oath, that they would never, to their deaths, speak
+one worldly word.
+
+Which when the blessed Macarius had heard, he said, "In truth there
+is neither virgin, nor married woman, nor monk, nor secular; but God
+only requires the intention, and ministers the spirit of life to
+all."
+
+
+
+ARSENIUS
+
+
+
+I shall give one more figure, and that a truly tragical one, from
+these "Lives of the Egyptian Fathers," namely, that of the once
+great and famous Arsenius, the Father (as he was at one time called)
+of the Emperors.  Theodosius, the great statesman and warrior, who
+for some twenty years kept up by his single hand the falling empire
+of Rome, heard how Arsenius was at once the most pious and the most
+learned of his subjects; and wishing--half barbarian as he was
+himself--that his sons should be brought up, not only as scholars,
+but as Christians, he sent for Arsenius to his court, and made him
+tutor to his two young sons Honorius and Arcadius.  But the two lads
+had neither their father's strength nor their father's nobleness.
+Weak and profligate, they fretted Arsenius's soul day by day; and,
+at last, so goes the story, provoked him so far that, according to
+the fashion of a Roman pedagogue, he took the ferula and
+administered to one of the princes a caning, which he no doubt
+deserved.  The young prince, in revenge, plotted against his life.
+Among the parasites of the Palace it was not difficult to find those
+who would use steel and poison readily enough in the service of an
+heir-apparent, and Arsenius fled for his life:  and fled, as men
+were wont in those days, to Egypt and the Thebaid.  Forty years old
+he was when he left the court, and forty years more he spent among
+the cells at Scetis, weeping day and night.  He migrated afterwards
+to a place called Troe, and there died at the age of ninety-five,
+having wept himself, say his admirers, almost blind.  He avoided, as
+far as possible, beholding the face of man; upon the face of woman
+he would never look.  A noble lady, whom he had known probably in
+the world, came all the way from Rome to see him; but he refused
+himself to her sternly, almost roughly.  He had known too much of
+the fine ladies of the Roman court; all he cared for was peace.
+There is a story of him that, changing once his dwelling-place,
+probably from Scetis to Troe, he asked, somewhat peevishly, of the
+monks around him, "What that noise was?"  They told him it was only
+the wind among the reeds.  "Alas!" he said, "I have fled everywhere
+in search of silence, and yet here the very reeds speak."  The
+simple and comparatively unlearned monks around him looked with a
+profound respect on the philosopher, courtier, scholar, who had cast
+away the real pomps and vanities of this life, such as they had
+never known.  There is a story told, plainly concerning Arsenius,
+though his name is not actually mentioned in it, how a certain old
+monk saw him lying upon a softer mat than his fellows, and indulged
+with a few more comforts; and complained indignantly of his luxury,
+and the abbot's favouritism.  Then asked the abbot, "What didst thou
+eat before thou becamest a monk?" He confessed he had been glad
+enough to fill his stomach with a few beans.  "How wert thou
+dressed?"  He was glad enough, again he confessed, to have any
+clothes at all on his back.  "Where didst thou sleep?"  "Often
+enough on the bare ground in the open air," was the answer.  "Then,"
+said the abbot, "thou art, by thy own confession, better off as a
+monk than thou wast as a poor labouring man:  and yet thou grudgest
+a little comfort to one who has given up more luxury than thou hast
+ever beheld.  This man slept beneath silken canopies; he was carried
+in gilded litters, by trains of slaves; he was clothed in purple and
+fine linen; he fed upon all the delicacies of the great city:  and
+he has given up all for Christ.  And what hast thou given up, that
+thou shouldst grudge him a softer mat, or a little more food each
+day?"  And so the monk was abashed, and held his peace.
+
+As for Arsenius's tears, it is easy to call his grief exaggerated or
+superstitious:  but those who look on them with human eyes will
+pardon them, and watch with sacred pity the grief of a good man, who
+felt that his life had been an utter failure.  He saw his two
+pupils, between whom, at their father's death, the Roman Empire was
+divided into Eastern and Western, grow more and more incapable of
+governing.  He saw a young barbarian, whom he must have often met at
+the court in Byzantium, as Master of the Horse, come down from his
+native forests, and sack the Eternal City of Rome.  He saw evil and
+woe unspeakable fall on that world which he had left behind him,
+till the earth was filled with blood, and Antichrist seemed ready to
+appear, and the day of judgment to be at hand.  And he had been
+called to do what he could to stave off this ruin, to make those
+young princes decree justice and rule in judgment by the fear of
+God.  But he had failed; and there was nothing left to him save
+self-accusation and regret, and dread lest some, at least, of the
+blood which had been shed might be required at his hands.
+Therefore, sitting upon his palm-mat there in Troe, he wept his life
+away; happier, nevertheless, and more honourable in the sight of God
+and man than if, like a Mazarin or a Talleyrand, and many another
+crafty politician, both in Church and State, he had hardened his
+heart against his own mistakes, and, by crafty intrigue and adroit
+changing of sides at the right moment, had contrived to secure for
+himself, out of the general ruin, honour and power and wealth, and
+delicate food, and a luxurious home, and so been one of those of
+whom the Psalmist says, with awful irony, "So long as thou doest
+well unto thyself, men will speak good of thee."
+
+One good deed at least Arsenius had seen done--a deed which has
+lasted to all time, and done, too, to the eternal honour of his
+order, by a monk--namely, the abolition of gladiator shows.  For
+centuries these wholesale murders had lasted through the Roman
+Republic and through the Roman Empire.  Human beings in the prime of
+youth and health, captives or slaves, condemned malefactors, and
+even free-born men, who hired themselves out to death, had been
+trained to destroy each other in the amphitheatre for the amusement,
+not merely of the Roman mob, but of the Roman ladies.  Thousands
+sometimes, in a single day, had been
+
+
+"Butchered to make a Roman holiday."
+
+
+The training of gladiators had become a science.  By their weapons
+and their armour, and their modes of fighting, they had been
+distinguished into regular classes, of which the antiquaries count
+up full eighteen:  Andabatae, who wore helmets without any opening
+for the eyes, so that they were obliged to fight blindfold, and thus
+excited the mirth of the spectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a
+complete suit of armour; Mirmillones, who had the image of a fish
+upon their helmets, and fought in armour with a short sword, matched
+usually against the Retiarii, who fought without armour, and whose
+weapons were a casting-net and a trident.  These, and other species
+of fighters, were drilled and fed in "families" by Lanistae; or
+regular trainers, who let them out to persons wishing to exhibit a
+show.  Women, even high-born ladies, had been seized in former times
+with the madness of fighting, and, as shameless as cruel, had gone
+down into the arena to delight with their own wounds and their own
+gore the eyes of the Roman people.
+
+And these things were done, and done too often, under the auspices
+of the gods, and at their most sacred festivals.  So deliberate and
+organized a system of wholesale butchery has never perhaps existed
+on this earth before or since, not even in the worship of those
+Mexican gods whose idols Cortez and his soldiers found fed with
+human hearts, and the walls of their temples crusted with human
+gore.  Gradually the spirit of the Gospel had been triumphing over
+this abomination.  Ever since the time of Tertullian, in the second
+century, Christian preachers and writers had lifted up their voice
+in the name of humanity.  Towards the end of the third century, the
+Emperors themselves had so far yielded to the voice of reason, as to
+forbid by edicts the gladiatorial fights.  But the public opinion of
+the mob in most of the great cities had been too strong both for
+saints and for emperors.  St. Augustine himself tells us of the
+horrible joy which he, in his youth, had seen come over the vast
+ring of flushed faces at these horrid sights; and in Arsenius's own
+time, his miserable pupil, the weak Honorius, bethought himself of
+celebrating once more the heathen festival of the Secular Games, and
+formally to allow therein an exhibition of gladiators.  But in the
+midst of that show sprang down into the arena of the Colosseum of
+Rome an unknown monk, some said from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and
+with his own hands parted the combatants in the name of Christ and
+God.  The mob, baulked for a moment of their pleasure, sprang on
+him, and stoned him to death.  But the crime was followed by a
+sudden revulsion of feeling.  By an edict of the Emperor the
+gladiatorial sports were forbidden for ever; and the Colosseum,
+thenceforth useless, crumbled slowly away into that vast ruin which
+remains unto this day, purified, as men well said, from the blood of
+tens of thousands, by the blood of one true and noble martyr.
+
+
+
+THE HERMITS OF ASIA
+
+
+
+The impulse which, given by Antony, had been propagated in Asia by
+his great pupil, Hilarion, spread rapidly far and wide.  Hermits
+took possession of the highest peaks of Sinai; and driven from
+thence, so tradition tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which
+still haunt its cliffs, settled at that sheltered spot where now
+stands the convent of St. Catharine.  Massacred again and again by
+the wild Arab tribes, their places were filled up by fresh hermits,
+and their spiritual descendants hold the convent to this day.
+
+Through the rich and luxuriant region of Syria, and especially round
+the richest and most luxurious of its cities, Antioch, hermits
+settled, and bore, by the severity of their lives, a noble witness
+against the profligacy of its inhabitants, who had half renounced
+the paganism of their forefathers without renouncing in the least,
+it seems, those sins which drew down of old the vengeance of a
+righteous God upon their forefathers, whether in Canaan or in Syria
+itself.
+
+At Antioch, about the year 347, was born the famous Chrysostom, John
+of the Golden Mouth; and near Antioch he became a hermit, and dwelt,
+so legends say, several years alone in the wilderness:  till, nerved
+by that hard training, he went forth again into the world to become,
+whether at Antioch or at Constantinople, the bravest as well as the
+most eloquent preacher of righteousness and rebuker of sin which the
+world had seen since the times of St. Paul.  The labours of
+Chrysostom belong not so much to this book as to a general
+ecclesiastical history:  but it must not be forgotten that he, like
+all the great men of that age, had been a monk, and kept up his
+monastic severity, even in the midst of the world, until his dying
+day.
+
+At Nisibis, again, upon the very frontier of Persia, appeared
+another very remarkable personage, known as the Great Jacob or Great
+St. James.  Taking (says his admiring biographer, Theodoret of Cyra)
+to the peaks of the loftiest mountains., he passed his life on them,
+in spring and summer haunting the woods, with the sky for a roof,
+but sheltering himself in winter in a cave.  His food was wild
+fruits and mountain herbs.  He never used a fire, and, clothed in a
+goats' hair garment, was perhaps the first of those Boscoi, or
+"browsing hermits," who lived literally like the wild animals in the
+flesh, while they tried to live like angels in the spirit.
+
+Some of the stories told of Jacob savour of that vindictiveness
+which Giraldus Cambrensis, in after years, attributed to the saints
+in Ireland.  He was walking one day over the Persian frontier, "to
+visit the plants of true religion" and "bestow on them due care,"
+when he passed at a fountain a troop of damsels washing clothes and
+treading them with their feet.  They seem, according to the story,
+to have stared at the wild man, instead of veiling their faces or
+letting down their garments.  No act or word of rudeness is reported
+of them:  but Jacob's modesty or pride was so much scandalized that
+he cursed both the fountain and the girls.  The fountain of course
+dried up forthwith, and the damsels' hair turned grey.  They ran
+weeping into the town.  The townsfolk came out, and compelled Jacob,
+by their prayers, to restore the water to their fountain; but the
+grey hair he refused to restore to its original hue unless the
+damsels would come and beg pardon publicly themselves.  The poor
+girls were ashamed to come, and their hair remained grey ever after.
+
+A story like this may raise a smile in some of my readers, in others
+something like indignation or contempt.  But as long as such legends
+remain in these hermit lives, told with as much gravity as any other
+portion of the biography, and eloquently lauded, as this deed is, by
+Bishop Theodoret, as proofs of the holiness and humanity of the
+saint, an honest author is bound to notice some of them at least,
+and not to give an alluring and really dishonest account of these
+men and their times, by detailing every anecdote which can elevate
+them in the mind of the reader, while he carefully omits all that
+may justly disgust him.
+
+Yet, after all, we are not bound to believe this legend, any more
+than we are bound to believe that when Jacob saw a Persian judge
+give an unjust sentence, he forthwith cursed, not him, but a rock
+close by, which instantly crumbled into innumerable fragments, so
+terrifying that judge that he at once revoked his sentence, and gave
+a just decision.
+
+Neither, again, need we believe that it was by sending, as men said
+in his own days, swarms of mosquitos against the Persian invaders,
+that he put to flight their elephants and horses:  and yet it may be
+true that, in the famous siege of Nisibis, Jacob played the patriot
+and the valiant man.  For when Sapor, the Persian king, came against
+Nisibis with all his forces, with troops of elephants, and huge
+machines of war, and towers full of archers wheeled up to the walls,
+and at last, damming the river itself, turned its current against
+the fortifications of unburnt brick, until a vast breach was opened
+in the walls, then Jacob, standing in the breach, encouraged by his
+prayers his fellow-townsmen to stop it with stone, brick, timber,
+and whatsoever came to hand; and Sapor, the Persian Sultan, saw
+"that divine man," and his goats'-hair tunic and cloak seemed
+transformed into a purple robe and royal diadem.  And, whether he
+was seized with superstitious fear, or whether the hot sun or the
+marshy ground had infected his troops with disease, or whether the
+mosquito swarms actually became intolerable, the great King of
+Persia turned and went away.
+
+So Nisibis was saved for a while; to be shamefully surrendered to
+the Persians a few years afterwards by the weak young Emperor
+Jovian.  Old Ammianus Marcellinus, brave soldier as he was, saw with
+disgust the whole body of citizens ordered to quit the city within
+three days, and "men appointed to compel obedience to the order,
+with threats of death to every one who delayed his departure; and
+the whole city was a scene of mourning and lamentation, and in every
+quarter nothing was heard but one universal wail, matrons tearing
+their hair, and about to be driven from the homes in which they had
+been born and brought up; the mother who had lost her children, or
+the wife who had lost her husband, about to be torn from the place
+rendered sacred by their shades, clinging to their doorposts,
+embracing their thresholds, and pouring forth floods of tears.
+Every road was crowded, each person struggling away as he could.
+Many, too, loaded themselves with as much of their property as they
+thought they could carry, while leaving behind them abundant and
+costly furniture, which they could not remove for want of beasts of
+burden." {159}
+
+One treasure, however, they did remove, of which the old soldier
+Ammianus says nothing, and which, had he seen it pass him on the
+road, he would have treated with supreme contempt.  And that, says
+Theodoret, was the holy body of "their prince and defender," St.
+James the mountain hermit, round which the emigrants chanted, says
+Theodoret, hymns of regret and praise, "for, had he been alive, that
+city would have never passed into barbarian hands."
+
+There stood with Jacob in the breach, during that siege of Nisibis,
+a man of gentler temperament, a disciple of his, who had received
+baptism at his hands, and who was, like himself, a hermit--Ephraim,
+or Ephrem, of Edessa, as he is commonly called, for, though born at
+Nisibis, his usual home was at Edessa, the metropolis of a Syrian-
+speaking race.  Into the Syrian tongue Ephrem translated the
+doctrines of the Christian faith and the Gospel history, and spread
+abroad, among the heathen round, a number of delicate and graceful
+hymns, which remain to this day, and of which some have lately been
+translated into English. {160}  Soft, sad, and dreamy as they were,
+they had strength and beauty enough in them to supersede the Gnostic
+hymns of Bardesanes and his son Harmonius, which had been long
+popular among the Syrians; and for centuries afterwards, till
+Christianity was swept away by the followers of Mahomet, the Syrian
+husbandman beguiled his toil with the pious and plaintive melodies
+of St. Ephrem.
+
+But Ephrem was not only a hermit and a poet:  he was a preacher and
+a missionary.  If he wept, as it was said, day and night for his own
+sins and the sins of mankind, he did his best at least to cure those
+sins.  He was a demagogue, or leader of the people, for good and not
+for evil, to whom the simple Syrians looked up for many a year as
+their spiritual father.  He died in peace, as he said himself, like
+the labourer who has finished his day's work, like the wandering
+merchant who returns to his fatherland, leaving nothing behind him
+save prayers and counsels, for "Ephrem," he added, "had neither
+wallet nor pilgrim's staff."
+
+"His last utterance" (I owe this fact to M. de Montalembert's book,
+"Moines d'Occident") "was a protest on behalf of the dignity of man
+redeemed by the Son of God."
+
+"The young and pious daughter of the Governor of Edessa came weeping
+to receive his latest breath.  He made her swear never again to be
+carried in a litter by slaves, 'The neck of man,' he said, 'should
+bear no yoke save that of Christ.'"  This anecdote is one among many
+which go to prove that from the time that St. Paul had declared the
+great truth that in Christ Jesus was neither bond nor free, and had
+proclaimed the spiritual brotherhood of all men in Christ, slavery,
+as an institution, was doomed to slow but certain death.  But that
+death was accelerated by the monastic movement, wherever it took
+root.  A class of men who came not to be ministered unto, but to
+minister to others; who prided themselves upon needing fewer
+luxuries than the meanest slaves; who took rank among each other and
+among men not on the ground of race, nor of official position, nor
+of wealth, nor even of intellect, but simply on the ground of
+virtue, was a perpetual protest against slavery and tyranny of every
+kind; a perpetual witness to the world that, whether all men were
+equal or not in the sight of God, the only rank among them of which
+God would take note, would be their rank in goodness.
+
+
+
+BASIL
+
+
+
+On the south shore of the Black Sea, eastward of Sinope, there dwelt
+in those days, at the mouth of the River Iris, a hermit as gentle
+and as pure as Ephrem of Edessa.  Beside a roaring waterfall, amid
+deep glens and dark forests, with distant glimpses of the stormy sea
+beyond, there lived on bread and water a graceful gentleman, young
+and handsome; a scholar too, who had drunk deeply at the fountains
+of Pagan philosophy and poetry, and had been educated with care at
+Constantinople and at Athens, as well as at his native city of
+Caesaraea, in the heart of Asia Minor, now dwindled under Turkish
+misrule into a wretched village.  He was heir to great estates; the
+glens and forests round him were his own:  and that was the use
+which he made of them.  On the other side of the torrent, his mother
+and his sister, a maiden of wonderful beauty, lived the hermit life,
+on a footing of perfect equality with their female slaves, and the
+pious women who had joined them.
+
+Basil's austerities--or rather the severe climate of the Black Sea
+forests--brought him to an early grave.  But his short life was
+spent well enough.  He was a poet, with an eye for the beauty of
+Nature--especially for the beauty of the sea--most rare in those
+times; and his works are full of descriptions of scenery as healthy-
+minded as they are vivid and graceful.
+
+In his travels through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, he had seen the
+hermits, and longed to emulate them; but (to do him justice) his
+ideal of the so-called "religious life" was more practical than
+those of the solitaries of Egypt, who had been his teachers.  "It
+was the life" (says Dean Milman {163}) "of the industrious religious
+community, not of the indolent and solitary anchorite, which to
+Basil was the perfection of Christianity. . . .  The indiscriminate
+charity of these institutions was to receive orphans" (of which
+there were but too many in those evil days) "of all classes, for
+education and maintenance:  but other children only with the consent
+or at the request of parents, certified before witnesses; and vows
+were by no means to be enforced upon these youthful pupils.  Slaves
+who fled to the monasteries were to be admonished and sent back to
+their owners.  There is one reservation" (and that one only too
+necessary then), "that slaves were not bound to obey their master,
+if he should order what is contrary to the law of God.  Industry was
+to be the animating principle of these settlements.  Prayer and
+psalmody were to have their stated hours, but by no means to intrude
+on those devoted to useful labour.  These labours were strictly
+defined; such as were of real use to the community, not those which
+might contribute to vice or luxury.  Agriculture was especially
+recommended.  The life was in no respect to be absorbed in a
+perpetual mystic communion with the Deity."
+
+The ideal which Basil set before him was never fulfilled in the
+East.  Transported to the West by St. Benedict, "the father of all
+monks," it became that conventual system which did so much during
+the early middle age, not only for the conversion and civilization,
+but for the arts and the agriculture of Europe.
+
+Basil, like his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianzen, had to go forth
+from his hermitage into the world, and be a bishop, and fight the
+battles of the true faith.  But, as with Gregory, his hermit-
+training had strengthened his soul, while it weakened his body.  The
+Emperor Valens, supporting the Arians against the orthodox, sent to
+Basil his Prefect of the Praetorium, an officer of the highest rank.
+The prefect argued, threatened; Basil was firm.  "I never met," said
+he at last, "such boldness."  "Because," said Basil, "you never met
+a bishop."  The prefect returned to his Emperor.  "My lord, we are
+conquered; this bishop is above threats.  We can do nothing but by
+force."  The Emperor shrank from that crime, and Basil and the
+orthodoxy of his diocese were saved.  The rest of his life and of
+Gregory's belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to general history, and
+we need pursue it no further here.
+
+I said that Basil's idea of what monks should be was never carried
+out in the East, and it cannot be denied that, as the years went on,
+the hermit life took a form less and less practical, and more and
+more repulsive also.  Such men as Antony, Hilarion, Basil, had
+valued the ascetic training, not so much because it had, as they
+thought, a merit in itself, but because it enabled the spirit to
+rise above the flesh; because it gave them strength to conquer their
+passions and appetites, and leave their soul free to think and act.
+
+But their disciples, especially in Syria, seem to have attributed
+more and more merit to the mere act of inflicting want and suffering
+on themselves.  Their souls were darkened, besides, more and more,
+by a doctrine unknown to the Bible, unknown to the early Christians,
+and one which does not seem to have had any strong hold of the mind
+of Antony himself--namely, that sins committed after baptism could
+only be washed away by tears, and expiated by penance; that for them
+the merits of him who died for the sins of the whole world were of
+little or of no avail.
+
+Therefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set their
+whole minds to punish themselves on earth, always tortured by the
+dread that they were not punishing themselves enough, till they
+crushed down alike body, mind, and soul into an abject superstition,
+the details of which are too repulsive to be written here.  Some of
+the instances of this self-invented misery which are recorded, even
+as early as the time of Theodoret, bishop of Cyra, in the middle of
+the fifth century, make us wonder at the puzzling inconsistencies of
+the human mind.  Did these poor creatures really believe that God
+could be propitiated by the torture of his own creatures?  What
+sense could Theodoret (who was a good man himself) have put upon the
+words, "God is good," or "God is love," while he was looking with
+satisfaction, even with admiration and awe, on practices which were
+more fit for worshippers of Moloch?
+
+Those who think these words too strong, may judge for themselves how
+far they apply to his story of Marana and Cyra.
+
+Marana, then, and Cyra were two young ladies of Berhoea, who had
+given up all the pleasures of life to settle themselves in a
+roofless cottage outside the town.  They had stopped up the door
+with stones and clay, and allowed it only to be opened at the feast
+of Pentecost.  Around them lived certain female slaves who had
+voluntarily chosen the same life, and who were taught and exhorted
+through a little window by their mistresses; or rather, it would
+seem, by Marana alone:  for Cyra (who was bent double by her
+"training") was never to speak.  Theodoret, as a priest, was allowed
+to enter the sacred enclosure, and found them shrouded from head to
+foot in long veils, so that neither their faces or hands could be
+seen; and underneath their veils, burdened on every limb, poor
+wretches, with such a load of iron chains and rings that a strong
+man, he says, could not have stood under the weight.  Thus had they
+endured for two-and-forty years, exposed to sun and wind, to frost
+and rain, taking no food at times for many days together.  I have no
+mind to finish the picture, and still less to record any of the
+phrases of rapturous admiration with which Bishop Theodoret comments
+upon their pitiable superstition.
+
+
+
+SIMEON STYLITES
+
+
+
+Of all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable,
+perhaps, was the once famous Simeon Stylites--a name almost
+forgotten, save by antiquaries and ecclesiastics, till Mr. Tennyson
+made it once more notorious in a poem as admirable for its savage
+grandness, as for its deep knowledge of human nature.  He has
+comprehended thoroughly, as it seems to me, that struggle between
+self-abasement and self-conceit, between the exaggerated sense of
+sinfulness and the exaggerated ambition of saintly honour, which
+must have gone on in the minds of these ascetics--the temper which
+could cry out one moment with perfect honesty--
+
+
+"Although I be the basest of mankind,
+From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin;"
+
+
+at the next--
+
+
+"I will not cease to grasp the hope I hold
+Of saintdom; and to clamour, mourn, and sob,
+Battering the gates of heaven with storms of prayer.
+Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin.
+Let this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,
+This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years
+Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,
+* * * * * *
+A sign between the meadow and the cloud,
+Patient on this tall pillar I have borne
+Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and snow;
+And I had hoped that ere this period closed
+Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest,
+Denying not these weather-beaten limbs
+The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm.
+O take the meaning, Lord:  I do not breathe,
+Not whisper any murmur of complaint.
+Pain heaped ten hundred-fold to this, were still
+Less burthen, by ten-hundred-fold, to bear
+Than were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush'd
+My spirit flat before thee."
+
+
+Admirably also has Mr. Tennyson conceived the hermit's secret doubt
+of the truth of those miracles, which he is so often told that he
+has worked, that he at last begins to believe that he must have
+worked them; and the longing, at the same time, to justify himself
+to himself, by persuading himself that he has earned miraculous
+powers.  On this whole question of hermit miracles I shall speak at
+length hereafter.  I have given specimens enough of them already,
+and shall give as few as possible henceforth.  There is a sameness
+about them which may become wearisome to those who cannot be
+expected to believe them.  But what the hermits themselves thought
+of them, is told (at least, so I suspect) only too truly by Mr.
+Tennyson--
+
+
+   "O Lord, thou knowest what a man I am;
+A sinful man, conceived and born in sin:
+'Tis their own doing; this is none of mine;
+Lay it not to me.  Am I to blame for this,
+That here come those who worship me?  Ha! ha!
+The silly people take me for a saint,
+And bring me offerings of fruit and flowers:
+And I, in truth (thou wilt bear witness here),
+Have all in all endured as much, and more
+Than many just and holy men, whose names
+Are register'd and calendar'd for saints.
+   Good people, you do ill to kneel to me.
+What is it I can have done to merit this?
+It may be I have wrought some miracles,
+And cured some halt and maimed:  but what of that?
+It may be, no one, even among the saints,
+Can match his pains with mine:  but what of that?
+Yet do not rise; for you may look on me,
+And in your looking you may kneel to God.
+Speak, is there any of you halt and maimed?
+I think you know I have some power with heaven
+From my long penance; let him speak his wish.
+   Yes, I can heal him.  Power goes forth from me.
+They say that they are heal'd.  Ah, hark! they shout,
+'St. Simeon Stylites!'  Why, if so,
+God reaps a harvest in me.  O my soul,
+God reaps a harvest in thee.  If this be,
+Can I work miracles, and not be saved?
+This is not told of any.  They were saints.
+It cannot be but that I shall be saved;
+Yea, crowned a saint." . . .
+
+
+I shall not take the liberty of quoting more:  but shall advise all
+who read these pages to study seriously Mr. Tennyson's poem if they
+wish to understand that darker side of the hermit life which became
+at last, in the East, the only side of it.  For in the East the
+hermits seem to have degenerated, by the time of the Mahomedan
+conquest, into mere self-torturing fakeers, like those who may be
+seen to this day in Hindostan.  The salt lost its savour, and in due
+tune it was trampled under foot; and the armies of the Moslem swept
+out of the East a superstition which had ended by enervating instead
+of ennobling humanity.
+
+But in justice, not only to myself, but to Mr. Tennyson (whose
+details of Simeon's asceticism may seem to some exaggerated and
+impossible), I have thought fit to give his life at length, omitting
+only many of his miracles, and certain stories of his penances,
+which can only excite horror and disgust, without edifying the
+reader.
+
+There were, then, three hermits of this name, often confounded; and
+all alike famous (as were Julian, Daniel, and other Stylites) for
+standing for many years on pillars.  One of the Simeons is said by
+Moschus to have been struck by lightning, and his death to have been
+miraculously revealed to Julian the Stylite, who lived twenty-four
+miles off.  More than one Stylite, belonging to the Monophysite
+heresy of Severus Acephalus, was to be found, according to Moschus,
+in the East at the beginning of the seventh century.  This biography
+is that of the elder Simeon, who died (according to Cedrenus) about
+460, after passing some forty or fifty years upon pillars of
+different heights.  There is much discrepancy in the accounts, both
+of his date and of his age; but that such a person really existed,
+and had his imitators, there can be no doubt.  He is honoured as a
+saint alike by the Latin and by the Greek Churches.
+
+His life has been written by a disciple of his named Antony, who
+professes to have been with him when he died; and also by Theodoret,
+who knew him well in life.  Both are to be found in Rosweyde, and
+there seems no reason to doubt their authenticity.  I have therefore
+interwoven them both, marking the paragraphs taken from each.
+
+Theodoret, who says that he was born in the village of Gesa, between
+Antioch and Cilicia, calls him that "famous Simeon--that great
+miracle of the whole world, whom all who obey the Roman rule know;
+whom the Persians also know, and the Indians, and AEthiopians; nay,
+his fame has even spread to the wandering Scythians, and taught them
+his love of toil and love of wisdom;" and says that he might be
+compared with Jacob the patriarch, Joseph the temperate, Moses the
+legislator, David the king and prophet, Micaiah the prophet, and the
+divine men who were like them.  He tells how Simeon, as a boy, kept
+his father's sheep, and, being forced by heavy snow to leave them in
+the fold, went with his parents to the church, and there heard the
+Gospel which blesses those who mourn and weep, and calls those
+miserable who laugh, and those enviable who have a pure heart.  And
+when he asked a bystander what he would gain who did each of these
+things, the man propounded to him the solitary life, and pointed out
+to him the highest philosophy.
+
+This, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint's own tongue.  His
+disciple Antony gives the story of his conversion somewhat
+differently.
+
+
+St. Simeon (says Antony) was chosen by God from his birth, and used
+to study how to obey and please him.  Now his father's name was
+Susocion, and he was brought up by his parents.
+
+When he was thirteen years old, he was feeding his father's sheep;
+and seeing a church he left the sheep and went in, and heard an
+epistle being read.  And when he asked an elder, "Master, what is
+that which is read?" the old man replied, "For the substance (or
+very being) of the soul, that a man may learn to fear God with his
+whole heart, and his whole mind."  Quoth the blessed Simeon, "What
+is to fear God?"  Quoth the elder, "Wherefore troublest thou me, my
+son?"  Quoth he, "I inquire of thee, as of God.  For I wish to learn
+what I hear from thee, because I am ignorant and a fool."  The elder
+answered, "If any man shall have fasted continually, and offered
+prayers every moment, and shall have humbled himself to every man,
+and shall not have loved gold, nor parents, nor garments, nor
+possessions, and if he honours his father and mother, and follows
+the priests of God, he shall inherit the eternal kingdom:  but he
+who, on the contrary, does not keep those things, he shall inherit
+the outer darkness which God hath prepared for the devil and his
+angels.  All these things, my son, are heaped together in a
+monastery."
+
+Hearing this, the blessed Simeon fell at his feet, saying, "Thou art
+my father and my mother, and my teacher of good works, and guide to
+the kingdom of heaven.  For thou hast gained my soul, which was
+already being sunk in perdition.  May the Lord repay thee again for
+it.  For these are the things which edify.  I will now go into a
+monastery, where God shall choose; and let his will be done on me."
+The elder said, "My son, before thou enterest, hear me.  Thou shalt
+have tribulation; for thou must watch and serve in nakedness, and
+sustain ills without ceasing; and again thou shalt be comforted,
+thou vessel precious to God."
+
+And forthwith the blessed Simeon, going out of the church, went to
+the monastery of the holy Timotheus, a wonder-working man; and
+falling down before the gate of the monastery, he lay five days,
+neither eating nor drinking.  And on the fifth day, the abbot,
+coming out, asked him, "Whence art thou, my son?  And what parents
+hast thou, that thou art so afflicted?  Or what is thy name, lest
+perchance thou hast done some wrong?  Or perchance thou art a slave,
+and fleest from thy master?"  Then the blessed Simeon said with
+tears, "By no means, master; but I long to be a servant of God, if
+he so will, because I wish to save my lost soul.  Bid me, therefore,
+enter the monastery, and leave all; and send me away no more."  Then
+the Abbot, taking his hand, introduced him into the monastery,
+saying to the brethren, "My sons, behold I deliver you this brother;
+teach him the canons of the monastery."  Now he was in the monastery
+about four months, serving all without complaint, in which he learnt
+the whole Psalter by heart, receiving every day divine food.  But
+the food which he took with his brethren he gave away secretly to
+the poor, not caring for the morrow.  So the brethren ate at even:
+but he only on the seventh day.
+
+But one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took the rope
+from the bucket with which the brethren drew water, and wound it
+round his body from his loins to his neck:  and going in, said to
+the brethren, "I went out to draw water, and found no rope on the
+bucket."  And they said, "Hold thy peace, brother, lest the abbot
+know it; till the thing has passed over."  But his body was wounded
+by the tightness and roughness of the rope, because it cut him to
+the bone, and sank into his flesh till it was hardly seen.  But one
+day, some of the brethren going out, found him giving his food to
+the poor; and when they returned, said to the abbot, "Whence hast
+thou brought us that man?  We cannot abstain like him, for he fasts
+from Lord's day to Lord's day, and gives away his food." . . . Then
+the abbot, going out, found as was told him, and said, "Son, what is
+it which the brethren tell of thee?  Is it not enough for thee to
+fast as we do?  Hast thou not heard the Gospel, saying of teachers,
+that the disciple is not above his master?" . . . The blessed Simeon
+stood and answered nought.  And the abbot, being angry, bade strip
+him, and found the rope round him, so that only its outside
+appeared; and cried with a loud voice, saying, "Whence has this man
+come to us, wanting to destroy the rule of the monastery?  I pray
+thee depart hence, and go whither thou wiliest."  And with great
+trouble they took off the rope, and his flesh with it, and taking
+care of him, healed him.
+
+But after he was healed he went out of the monastery, no man knowing
+of it, and entered a deserted tank, in which was no water, where
+unclean spirits dwelt.  And that very night it was revealed to the
+abbot, that a multitude of people surrounded the monastery with
+clubs and swords, saying, "Give us Simeon the servant of God,
+Timotheus; else we will burn thee with thy monastery, because thou
+hast angered a just man."  And when he woke, he told the brethren
+the vision, and how he was much disturbed thereby.  And another
+night he saw a multitude of strong men standing and saying, "Give us
+Simeon the servant of God; for he is beloved by God and the angels:
+why hast thou vexed him?  He is greater than thou before God; for
+all the angels are sorry on his behalf.  And God is minded to set
+him on high in the world, that by him many signs may be done, such
+as no man has done."  Then the abbot, rising, said with great fear
+to the brethren, "Seek me that man, and bring him hither, lest
+perchance we all die on his account.  He is truly a saint of God,
+for I have heard and seen great wonders of him."  Then all the monks
+went out and searched, but in vain, and told the abbot how they had
+sought him everywhere, save in the deserted tank. . . .  Then the
+abbot went, with five brethren, to the tank.  And making a prayer,
+he went down into it with the brethren.  And the blessed Simeon,
+seeing him, began to entreat, saying, "I beg you, servants of God,
+let me alone one hour, that I may render up my spirit; for yet a
+little, and it will fail.  But my soul is very weary, because I have
+angered the Lord."  But the abbot said to him, "Come, servant of
+God, that we may take thee to the monastery; for I know concerning
+thee that thou art a servant of God."  But when he would not, they
+brought him by force to the monastery.  And all fell at his feet,
+weeping, and saying, "We have sinned against thee, servant of God;
+forgive us."  But the blessed Simeon groaned, saying, "Wherefore do
+ye burden an unhappy man and a sinner?  You are the servants of God,
+and my fathers."  And he stayed there about one year.
+
+
+After this (says Theodoret) he came to the Telanassus, under the
+peak of the mountain on which he lived till his death; and having
+found there a little house, he remained in it shut up for three
+years.  But eager always to increase the riches of virtue, he
+longed, in imitation of the divine Moses and Elias, to fast forty
+days; and tried to persuade Bassus, who was then set over the
+priests in the villages, to leave nothing within by him, but to
+close up the door with clay.  He spoke to him of the difficulty, and
+warned him not to think that a violent death was a virtue.  "Put by
+me then, father," he said, "ten loaves, and a cruse of water, and if
+I find my body need sustenance, I will partake of them."  At the end
+of the days, that wonderful man of God, Bassus, removed the clay,
+and going in, found the food and water untouched, and Simeon lying
+unable to speak or move.  Getting a sponge, he moistened and opened
+his lips and then gave him the symbols of the divine mysteries; and,
+strengthened by them, he arose, and took some food, chewing little
+by little lettuces and succory, and such like.
+
+From that time, for twenty-eight years (says Theodoret), he had
+remained fasting continually for forty days at a time.  But custom
+had made it more easy to him.  For on the first days he used to
+stand and praise God; after that, when through emptiness he could
+stand no longer, he used to sit and perform the divine office; and
+on the last day, even lie down.  For when his strength failed
+slowly, he was forced to lie half dead.  But after he stood on the
+column he could not bear to lie down, but invented another way by
+which he could stand.  He fastened a beam to the column, and tied
+himself to it by ropes, and so passed the forty days.  But
+afterwards, when he had received greater grace from on high, he did
+not want even that help:  but stood for the forty days, taking no
+food, but strengthened by alacrity of soul and divine grace.
+
+When he had passed three years in that little house, he took
+possession of the peak which has since been so famous; and when he
+had commanded a wall to be made round him, and procured an iron
+chain, twenty cubits long, he fastened one end of it to a great
+stone, and the other to his right foot, so that he could not, if he
+wished, leave those bounds.  There he lived, continually picturing
+heaven to himself, and forcing himself to contemplate things which
+are above the heavens; for the iron bond did not check the flight of
+his thoughts.  But when the wonderful Meletius, to whom the care of
+the episcopate of Antioch was then commended (a man of sense and
+prudence, and adorned with shrewdness of intellect), told him that
+the iron was superfluous, since the will is able enough to impose on
+the body the chains of reason, he gave way, and obeyed his
+persuasion.  And having sent for a smith, he bade him strike off the
+chain.
+
+[Here follow some painful details unnecessary to be translated.]
+
+When, therefore, his fame was flying far and wide everywhere, all
+ran together, not only the neighbours, but those who were many days'
+journey off, some bringing the palsied, some begging health for the
+sick, some that they might become fathers, and all wishing to
+receive from him what they had not received from nature; and when
+they had received, and gained their request, they went back joyful,
+proclaiming the benefits they had obtained, and sending many more to
+beg the same.  So, as all are coming up from every quarter, and the
+road is like a river, one may see gathered in that place an ocean of
+men, which receives streams from every side; not only of those who
+live in our region, but Ishmaelites, and Persians, and the Armenians
+who are subject to them, and Iberi, and Homerites, and those who
+dwell beyond them.  Many have come also from the extreme west,
+Spaniards, and Britons, and Gauls who live between the two.  Of
+Italy it is superfluous to speak; for they say that at Rome the man
+has become so celebrated that they have put little images of him in
+all the porches of the shops, providing thereby for themselves a
+sort of safeguard and security.
+
+When, therefore, they came innumerable (for all tried to touch him,
+and receive some blessing from those skin garments of his), thinking
+it in the first place absurd and unfit that such exceeding honour
+should be paid him, and next, disliking the labour of the business,
+devised that station on the pillar, bidding one be built, first of
+six cubits, then of twelve, next of twenty-two, and now of thirty-
+six.  For he longs to fly up to heaven, and be freed from this
+earthly conversation.
+
+But I believe that this station was made not without divine counsel.
+Wherefore I exhort fault-finders to bridle their tongue, and not let
+it rashly loose, but rather consider that the Lord has often devised
+such things, that he might profit those who were too slothful.
+
+
+In proof of which, Theodoret quotes the examples of Isaiah, Hosea,
+and Ezekiel; and then goes on to say how God in like manner ordained
+this new and admirable spectacle, by the novelty of it drawing all
+to look, and exhibiting to those who came, a lesson which they could
+trust.  For the novelty of the spectacle (he says) is a worthy
+warrant for the teaching; and he who came to see goes away
+instructed in divine things.  And as those whose lot it is to rule
+over men, after a certain period of time, change the impressions on
+their coins, sometimes stamping them with images of lions, sometimes
+of stars, sometimes of angels, and trying, by a new mark, to make
+the gold more precious; so the King of all, adding to piety and true
+religion these new and manifold modes of living, as certain stamps
+on coin, excites to praise the tongues not only of the children of
+faith, but of those who are diseased with unbelief.  And that so it
+is, not only words bear witness, but facts proclaim aloud.  For many
+myriads of Ishmaelites, who were enslaved in the darkness of
+impiety, have been illuminated by that station on the column.  For
+this most shining lamp, set as it were upon a candlestick, sent
+forth all round its rays, like of the sun:  and one may see (as I
+said) Iberi coming, and Persians, and Armenians, and accepting
+divine baptism.  But the Ishmaelites, coming by tribes, 200 and 300
+at a time, and sometimes even 1,000, deny, with shouts, the error of
+their fathers; and breaking in pieces, before that great
+illuminator, the images which they had worshipped, and renouncing
+the orgies of Venus (for they had received from ancient times the
+worship of that daemon), they receive the divine sacraments, and
+take laws from that holy tongue, bidding farewell to their ancestral
+rites, and renouncing the eating of wild asses and camels.  And this
+I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard them renouncing the
+impiety of their fathers, and assenting to the Evangelic doctrine.
+
+But once I was in the greatest danger:  for he himself told them to
+go to me, and receive priestly benediction, saying that they would
+thence obtain great advantage.  But they, having run together in
+somewhat too barbarous fashion, some dragged me before, some behind,
+some sideways; and those who were further off, scrambling over the
+others, and stretching out their hands, plucked my beard, or seized
+my clothes; and I should have been stifled by their too warm onset,
+had not he, shouting out, dispersed them all.  Such usefulness has
+that column, which is mocked at by scornful men, poured forth; and
+so great a ray of the knowledge of God has it sent forth into the
+minds of barbarians.
+
+I know also of his having done another thing of this kind:--One
+tribe was beseeching the divine man, that he would send forth some
+prayer and blessing for their chief:  but another tribe which was
+present retorted that he ought not to bless that chief, but theirs;
+for the one was a most unjust man, but the other averse to
+injustice.  And when there had been a great contention and barbaric
+wrangling between them, they attacked each other.  But I, using many
+words, kept exhorting them to be quiet, seeing that the divine man
+was able enough to give a blessing to both.  But the one tribe kept
+saying, that the first chief ought not to have it; and the other
+tribe trying to deprive the second chief of it.  Then he, by
+threatening them from above, and calling them dogs, hardly stilled
+the quarrel.  This I have told, wishing to show their great faith.
+For they would not have thus gone mad against each other, had they
+not believed that the divine man's blessing possesses some very
+great power.
+
+I saw another miracle, which was very celebrated.  One coming up
+(he, too, was a chief of a Saracen tribe) besought the divine
+personage that he would help a man whose limbs had given way in
+paralysis on the road; and he said the misfortune had fallen on him
+in Callinicus, which is a very large camp.  When he was brought into
+the midst, the saint bade him renounce the impiety of his
+forefathers; and when he willingly obeyed, he asked him if he
+believed in the Father, the only-begotten Son, and the Holy Spirit.
+And when he confessed that he believed--"Believing," said he, "in
+their names, Arise."  And when the man had risen, he bade him carry
+away his chief (who was a very large man) on his shoulders to his
+tent.  He took him up, and went away forthwith; while those who were
+present raised their voices in praise of God.  This he commanded,
+imitating the Lord, who bade the paralytic carry his bed.  Let no
+man call this imitation tyranny.  For his saying is, "He who
+believeth in me, the works which I do, he shall do also, and more
+than these shall he do."  And, indeed, we have seen the fulfilment
+of this promise.  For though the shadow of the Lord never worked a
+miracle, the shadow of the great Peter both loosed death, and drove
+out diseases, and put daemons to flight.  But the Lord it was who
+did also these miracles by his servants; and now likewise, using his
+name, the divine Simeon works his innumerable wonders.
+
+It befell also that another wonder was worked, by no means inferior
+to the last.  For among those who had believed in the saving name of
+the Lord Christ, an Ishmaelite, of no humble rank, had made a vow to
+God, with Simeon as witness.  Now his promise was this, that he
+would henceforth to the end abstain from animal food.  Transgressing
+this promise once, I know not how, he slew a bird, and dared to eat
+it.  But God being minded to bring him by reproof to conversion, and
+to honour his servant, who was a witness to the broken vow, the
+flesh of the bird was changed into the nature of a stone, so that,
+even if he wished, he could not thenceforth eat it.  For how could
+he, when the body meant for food had turned to stone?  The
+barbarian, stupified by this unexpected sight, came with great haste
+to the holy man, bringing to the light the sin which he had hidden,
+and proclaimed his transgression to all, begging pardon from God,
+and invoking the help of the saint, that by his all-powerful prayers
+he might loose him from the bonds of his sin.  Now many saw that
+miracle, and felt that the part of the bird about the breast
+consisted of bone and stone.
+
+But I was not only an ear-witness of his wonders, but also an ear-
+witness of his prophecies concerning futurity.  For that drought
+which came, and the great dearth of that year, and the famine and
+pestilence which followed together, he foretold two years before,
+saying that he saw a rod which was laid on man, stripes which would
+be inflicted by it.  Moreover, he at another time foretold an
+invasion of locusts, and that it would bring no great harm, because
+the divine clemency soon follows punishment.  But when thirty days
+were past, an innumerable multitude of them hung aloft, so that they
+even cut off the sun's rays and threw a shadow; and that we all saw
+plainly:  but it only damaged the cattle pastures, and in no wise
+hurt the food of man.  To me, too, who was attacked by a certain
+person, he signified that the quarrel would end ere a fortnight was
+past; and I learned the truth of the prediction by experience.
+
+Moreover there were seen by him once two rods, which came down from
+the skies, and fell on the eastern and western lands.  Now the
+divine man said that they signified the rising of the Persian and
+Scythian nations against the Romans; and told the vision to those
+who were by, and with many tears and assiduous prayers, warded that
+disaster, the threat whereof hung over the earth.  Certainly the
+Persian nation, when already armed and prepared to invade the
+Romans, was kept back (the divine will being against them) from
+their attempt, and occupied at home with their own troubles.  But
+while I know many other cases of this kind, I shall pass them over
+to avoid prolixity.  These are surely enough to show the spiritual
+contemplation of his mind.
+
+His fame was great, also, with the King of the Persians; for as the
+ambassadors told, who came to him, he diligently inquired what was
+his life, and what his miracles.  But they say that the King's wife
+also begged oil honoured by his blessing, and accepted it as the
+greatest of gifts.  Moreover, all the King's courtiers, being moved
+by his fame, and having heard many slanders against him from the
+Magi, inquired diligently, and having learnt the truth, called him a
+divine man; while the rest of the crowd, coming to the muleteers and
+servants and soldiers, both offered money, and begged for a share in
+the oil of benediction.  The Queen, too, of the Ishmaelites, longing
+to have a child, sent first some of her most noble subjects to the
+saint, beseeching him that she might become a mother.  And when her
+prayer had been granted, and she had her heart's desire, she took
+the son who had been born, and went to the divine old man; and
+(because women were not allowed to approach him) sent the babe,
+entreating his blessing on it . . . [Here Theodoret puts into the
+Queen's mouth words which it is unnecessary to quote.]
+
+But how long do I strive to measure the depths of the Atlantic sea?
+For as they are unfathomable by man, so do the things which he does
+daily surpass narration.  I, however, admire above all these things
+his endurance; for night and day he stands, so as to be seen by all.
+For as the doors are taken away, and a large part of the wall around
+pulled down, he is set forth as a new and wondrous spectacle to all;
+now standing long, now bowing himself frequently, and offering
+adoration to God.  Many of those who stand by count these
+adorations; and once a man with me, when he had counted 1,244, and
+then missed, gave up counting:  but always, when he bows himself, he
+touches his feet with his forehead.  For as his stomach takes food
+only once in the week, and that very little--no more than is
+received in the divine sacraments,--his back admits of being easily
+bent. . . .  But nothing which happens to him overpowers his
+philosophy; he bears nobly both voluntary and involuntary pains, and
+conquers both by readiness of will.
+
+There came once from Arabena a certain good man, and honoured with
+the ministry of Christ.  He, when he had come to that mountain
+peak,--"Tell me," he cried, "by the very truth which converts the
+human race to itself--Art thou a man, or an incorporeal nature?"
+But when all there were displeased with the question, the saint bade
+them all be silent, and said to him, "Why hast thou asked me this?"
+He answered, "Because I hear every one saying publicly, that thou
+neither eatest nor sleepest; but both are properties of man, and no
+one who has a human nature could have lived without food and sleep."
+Then the saint bade them set a ladder to the column, and him to come
+up; and first to look at his hands, and then feel inside his cloak
+of skins; and to see not only his feet, but a severe wound.  But
+when he saw that he was a man, and the size of that wound, and
+learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came down and told me
+all.
+
+At the public festivals he showed an endurance of another kind.  For
+from the setting of the sun till it had come again to the eastern
+horizon, he stood all night with hands uplift to heaven, neither
+soothed with sleep nor conquered by fatigue.  But in toils so great,
+and so great a magnitude of deeds, and multitude of miracles, his
+self-esteem is as moderate as if he were in dignity the least of all
+men.  Beside his modesty, he is easy of access of speech, and
+gracious, and answers every man who speaks to him, whether he be
+handicraftsman, beggar, or rustic.  And from the bounteous God he
+has received also the gift of teaching, and making his exhortations
+twice a day, he delights the ears of those who hear, discoursing
+much on grace, and setting forth the instructions of the Divine
+Spirit to look up and fly toward heaven, and depart from the earth,
+and imagine the kingdom which is expected, and fear the threats of
+Gehenna, and despise earthly things, and wait for things to come.
+He may be seen, too, acting as judge, and giving right and just
+decisions.  This, and the like, is done after the ninth hour.  For
+all night, and through the day to the ninth hour, he prays
+perpetually.  After that, he first sets forth the divine teaching to
+those who are present; then having heard each man's petition, after
+he has performed some cures, he settles the quarrels of those
+between whom there is any dispute.  About sunset he begins the rest
+of his converse with God.  But though he is employed in this way,
+and does all this, he does not give up the care of the holy
+Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks,
+sometimes checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to
+flight the bands of heretics, and sometimes sending messages
+concerning these last to the Emperor; sometimes, too, stirring up
+rulers to zeal for God, and sometimes exhorting the pastors of the
+Churches to bestow more care upon their flocks.
+
+I have gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by one
+drop, and to give those who meet with my writing a taste on the
+finger of the sweetness of the honey.  But there remains (as is to
+be expected) much more; and if he should live longer, he will
+probably add still greater wonders. . . .
+
+
+Thus far Theodoret.  Antony gives some other details of Simeon's
+life upon the column.
+
+
+The devil, he says, in envy transformed himself into the likeness of
+an angel, shining in splendour, with fiery horses, and a fiery
+chariot, and appeared close to the column on which the blessed
+Simeon stood, and shone with glory like an angel.  And the devil
+said with bland speeches, "Simeon, hear my words, which the Lord
+hath commanded thee.  He has sent me, his angel, with a chariot and
+horses of fire, that I may carry thee away, as I carried Elias.  For
+thy time is come.  Do thou, in like wise, ascend now with me into
+the chariot, because the Lord of heaven and earth has sent it down.
+Let us ascend together into the heavens, that the angels and
+archangels may see thee, with Mary the mother of the Lord, with the
+Apostles and martyrs, the confessors and prophets; because they
+rejoice to see thee, that thou mayest pray to the Lord, who hast
+made thee after his own image.  Verily I have spoken to thee:  delay
+not to ascend."  Simeon, having ended his prayer, said, "Lord, wilt
+thou carry me, a sinner, into heaven?"  And lifting his right foot
+that he might step into the chariot, he lifted also his right hand,
+and made the sign of Christ.  When he had made the sign of the
+cross, forthwith the devil appeared nowhere, but vanished with his
+device, as dust before the face of the wind.  Then understood Simeon
+that it was an art of the devil.
+
+Having recovered himself, therefore, he said to his foot, "Thou
+shalt not return back hence, but stand here until my death, when the
+Lord shall send for me a sinner."
+
+[Here follow more painful stories, which had best be omitted.]
+
+But after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to see
+him, but was forbidden, because no woman entered that place.  But
+when the blessed Simeon heard the voice of his mother, he said to
+her, "Bear up, my mother, a little while, and we shall see each
+other, if God will."  But she, hearing this, began to weep, and
+tearing her hair, rebuked him, saying, "Son, why hast thou done
+this?  In return for the body in which I bore thee, thou hast filled
+me full of grief.  For the milk with which I nourished thee, thou
+hast given me tears.  For the kiss with which I kissed thee, thou
+hast given me bitter pangs of heart.  For the grief and labour which
+I have suffered, thou hast laid on me cruel stripes."  And she spoke
+so much that she made us all weep.  The blessed Simeon, hearing the
+voice of her who bore him, put his face in his hands and wept
+bitterly; and commanded her, saying, "Lady mother, be still a little
+time, and we shall see each other in eternal rest."  But she began
+to say, "By Christ, who formed thee, if there is a probability of
+seeing thee, who hast been so long a stranger to me, let me see
+thee; or if not, let me only hear thy voice and die at once; for thy
+father is dead in sorrow because of thee.  And now do not destroy me
+for very bitterness, my son."  Saying this, for sorrow and weeping
+she fell asleep; for during three days and three nights she had not
+ceased entreating him.  Then the blessed Simeon prayed the Lord for
+her, and she forthwith gave up the ghost.
+
+But they took up her body, and brought it where he could see it.
+And he said, weeping, "The Lord receive thee in joy, because thou
+hast endured tribulation for me, and borne me, and nursed and
+nourished me with labour."  And as he said that, his mother's
+countenance perspired, and her body was stirred in the sight of us
+all.  But he, lifting up his eyes to heaven, said, "Lord God of
+virtues, who sittest above the cherubim, and searchest the
+foundations of the abyss, who knewest Adam before he was; who hast
+promised the riches of the kingdom of heaven to those who love thee;
+who didst speak to Moses in the bush of fire; who blessedst Abraham
+our father; who bringest into Paradise the souls of the just, and
+sinkest the souls of the impious to perdition; who didst humble the
+lions, and mitigate for thy servants the strong fires of the
+Chaldees; who didst nourish Elisha by the ravens which brought him
+food--receive her soul in peace, and put her in the place of the
+holy fathers, for thine is the power for ever and ever."
+
+
+Antony then goes on to relate the later years of the saint's life.
+
+He tells how Simeon, some time after this, ascended the column of
+forty cubits; how a great dragon (serpent) crawled towards it, and
+coiled round it, entreating (so it seemed) to be freed from a spike
+of wood which had entered its eye; and how, St. Simeon took pity on
+it, he caused the spike (which was a cubit long) to come out.
+
+He tells how a woman, drinking water from a jar at night, swallowed
+a snake unawares, which grew within her, till she was brought to the
+blessed Simeon, who commanded some of the water of the monastery to
+be given her; on which the serpent crawled out of her mouth, three
+cubits long, and burst immediately; and was hung up there seven
+days, as a testimony to many.
+
+He tells how, when there was great want of water, St. Simeon prayed
+till the earth opened on the east of the monastery, and a cave full
+of water was discovered, which had never failed them to that day.
+
+He tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the saint,
+saw a doe go by, and commanded her to stop, "by the prayers of St.
+Simeon;" which when she had done, they killed and ate her, and came
+to St. Simeon with the skin.  But they were all struck dumb, and
+hardly cured after two years.  And the skin of the doe they hung up,
+for a testimony to many.
+
+He tells of a huge leopard, which slew men and cattle all around;
+and how St. Simeon bade sprinkle in his haunts soil or water from
+the monastery; and when men went again, they found the leopard dead.
+
+He tells how, when St. Simeon cured any one, he bade him go home,
+and honour God who had healed him, and not dare to say that Simeon
+had cured him, lest a worse thing should suddenly come to him; and
+not to presume to swear by the name of the Lord, for it was a grave
+sin; but to swear, "whether justly or unjustly, by him, lowly and a
+sinner.  Wherefore all the Easterns, and barbarous tribes in those
+regions, swear by Simeon."
+
+He tells how a robber from Antioch, Jonathan by name, fled to St.
+Simeon, and embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and saying how he
+had committed every crime, and had come thither to repent.  And how
+the saint said, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven:  but do not try
+to tempt me, lest thou be found again in the sins which thou hast
+cast away."  Then came the officials from Antioch, demanding that he
+should be given up, to be cast to the wild beasts.  But Simeon
+answered, "My sons, I brought him not hither, but One greater than
+I; for he helps such as this man, and of such is the kingdom of
+heaven.  But if you can enter, carry him hence; I cannot give him
+up, for I fear him who has sent the man to me."  And they, struck
+with fear, went away.  Then Jonathan lay for seven days embracing
+the column, and then asked the saint leave to go.  The saint asked
+him if he were going back to sin?  "No, lord," he said; "but my time
+is fulfilled," and straightway he gave up the ghost; and when
+officials came again from Antioch, demanding him, Simeon replied:
+"He who brought him came with a multitude of the heavenly host, and
+is able to send into Tartarus your city, and all who dwell in it,
+who also has reconciled this man to himself; and I was afraid lest
+he should slay me suddenly.  Therefore weary me no more, a humble
+man and poor."
+
+But after a few years (says Antony) it befell one day that he bowed
+himself in prayer, and remained so three days--that is, the Friday,
+the Sabbath, and the Lord's day.  Then I was terrified, and went up
+to him, and stood before his face, and said to him, "Master, arise:
+bless us; for the people have been waiting three days and three
+nights for a blessing from thee."  And he answered me not; and I
+said again to him:  "Wherefore dost thou grieve me, lord? or in what
+have I offended?  I beseech thee, put out thy hand to me; or,
+perchance, thou hast already departed from us?"
+
+And seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one; for I
+feared to touch him:  and, standing about half an hour, I bent down,
+and put my ear to listen; and there was no breathing:  but a
+fragrance as of many scents rose from his body.  And so I understood
+that he rested in the Lord; and, turning faint, I wept most
+bitterly; and, bending down, I kissed his eyes, and clasped his
+beard and hair, and reproaching him, I said:  "To whom dost thou
+leave me, lord? or where shall I seek thy angelic doctrine?  What
+answer shall I make for thee? or whose soul will look at this
+column, without thee, and not grieve?  What answer shall I make to
+the sick, when they come here to seek thee, and find thee not?  What
+shall I say, poor creature that I am?  To-day I see thee; to-morrow
+I shall look right and left, and not find thee.  And what covering
+shall I put upon thy column?  Woe to me, when folk shall come from
+afar, seeking thee, and shall not find thee!"  And, for much sorrow,
+I fell asleep.
+
+And forthwith he appeared to me, and said:  "I will not leave this
+column, nor this place, and this blessed mountain, where I was
+illuminated.  But go down, satisfy the people, and send word
+secretly to Antioch, lest a tumult arise.  For I have gone to rest,
+as the Lord willed:  but do thou not cease to minister in this
+place, and the Lord shall repay thee thy wages in heaven."
+
+But, rising from sleep, I said, in terror, "Master, remember me in
+thy holy rest."  And, lifting up his garments, I fell at his feet,
+and kissed them; and, holding his hands, I laid them on my eyes,
+saying, "Bless me, I beseech thee, my lord!"  And again I wept, and
+said, "What relics shall I carry away from thee as memorials?"  And
+as I said that his body was moved; therefore I was afraid to touch
+him.
+
+And, that no one might know, I came down quickly, and sent a
+faithful brother to the Bishop at Antioch.  He came at once with
+three Bishops, and with them Ardaburius, the master of the soldiers,
+with his people, and stretched curtains round the column, and
+fastened their clothes around it.  For they were cloth of gold.
+
+And when they laid him down by the altar before the column, and
+gathered themselves together, birds flew round the column, crying,
+and as it were lamenting, in all men's sight; and the wailing of the
+people and of the cattle resounded for seven miles away; yea, even
+the hills, and the fields, and the trees were sad around that place;
+for everywhere a dark cloud hung about it.  And I watched an angel
+coming to visit him; and, about the seventh hour, seven old men
+talked with that angel, whose face was like lightning, and his
+garments as snow.  And I watched his voice, in fear and trembling,
+as long as I could hear it; but what he said I cannot tell.
+
+But when the holy Simeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of Antioch,
+wishing to take some of his beard for a blessing, stretched out his
+hand; and forthwith it was dried up; and prayers were made to God
+for him, and so his hand was restored again.
+
+Then, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to Antioch, with
+psalms and hymns.  But all the people round that region wept,
+because the protection of such mighty relics was taken from them,
+and because the Bishop of Antioch had sworn that no man should touch
+his body.
+
+But when they came to the fifth milestone from Antioch, to the
+village which is called Meroe, no one could move him.  Then a
+certain man, deaf and dumb for forty years, who had committed a very
+great crime, suddenly fell down before the bier, and began to cry,
+"Thou art well come, servant of God; for thy coming will save me:
+and if I shall obtain the grace to live, I will serve thee all the
+days of my life."  And, rising, he caught hold of one of the mules
+which carried the bier, and forthwith moved himself from that place.
+And so the man was made whole from that hour.
+
+Then all going out of the city of Antioch received the body of the
+holy Simeon on gold and silver, with psalms and hymns, and with many
+lamps brought it into the greater church, and thence to another
+church, which is called Penitence.  Moreover, many virtues are
+wrought at his tomb, more than in his life; and the man who was made
+whole served there till the day of his death.  But many offered
+treasures to the Bishop of Antioch for the faith, begging relics
+from the body:  but, on account of his oath, he never gave them.
+
+I, Antony, lowly and a sinner, have set forth briefly, as far as I
+could, this lesson.  But blessed is he who has this writing in a
+book, and reads it in the church and house of God; and when he shall
+have brought it to his memory, he shall receive a reward from the
+Most High; to whom is honour, power, and virtue, for ever and ever.
+Amen.
+
+
+After such a fantastic story as this of Simeon, it is full time
+(some readers may have thought that it was full time long since) to
+give my own opinion of the miracles, visions, daemons, and other
+portents which occur in the lives of these saints.  I have refrained
+from doing so as yet, because I wished to begin by saying everything
+on behalf of these old hermits which could honestly be said, and to
+prejudice my readers' minds in their favour rather than against
+them; because I am certain that if we look on them merely with scorn
+and ridicule,--if we do not acknowledge and honour all in them which
+was noble, virtuous, and honest,--we shall never be able to combat
+their errors, either in our own hearts or in those of our children:
+and that we may have need to do so is but too probable.  In this
+age, as in every other age of materialism and practical atheism, a
+revulsion in favour of superstition is at hand; I may say is taking
+place round us now.  Doctrines are tolerated as possibly true,--
+persons are regarded with respect and admiration, who would have
+been looked on, even fifty years ago, if not with horror, yet with
+contempt, as beneath the serious notice of educated English people.
+But it is this very contempt which has brought about the change of
+opinion concerning them.  It has been discovered that they were not
+altogether so absurd as they seemed; that the public mind, in its
+ignorance, has been unjust to them; and, in hasty repentance for
+that injustice, too many are ready to listen to those who will tell
+them that these things are not absurd at all--that there is no
+absurdity in believing that the leg-bone of St. Simon Stock may
+possess miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the departed
+communicate with their friends by rapping on the table.  The ugly
+after-crop of superstition which is growing up among us now is the
+just and natural punishment of our materialism--I may say, of our
+practical atheism.  For those who will not believe in the real
+spiritual world, in which each man's soul stands face to face all
+day long with Almighty God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,
+are sure at last to crave after some false spiritual world, and
+seek, like the evil and profligate generation of the Jews, after
+visible signs and material wonders.  And those who will not believe
+that the one true and living God is above their path and about their
+bed and spieth out all their ways, and that in him they live and
+move and have their being, are but too likely at last to people with
+fancied saints and daemons that void in the imagination and in the
+heart which their own unbelief has made.
+
+Are we then to suppose that these old hermits had lost faith in God?
+On the contrary, they were the only men in that day who had faith in
+God.  And, if they had faith in any other things or persons beside
+God, they merely shared in the general popular ignorance and
+mistakes of their own age; and we must not judge those who, born in
+an age of darkness, were struggling earnestly toward the light, as
+we judge those who, born in an age of scientific light, are retiring
+of their own will back into the darkness.
+
+Before I enter upon the credibility of these alleged saints'
+miracles, I must guard my readers carefully from supposing that I
+think miracles impossible.  Heaven forbid.  He would be a very rash
+person who should do that, in a world which swarms with greater
+wonders than those recorded in the biography of a saint.  For, after
+all, which is more wonderful, that God should be able to restore the
+dead to life, or that he should be able to give life at all?  Again,
+as for these miracles being contrary to our experience, that is no
+very valid argument against them; for equally contrary to our
+experience is every new discovery of science, every strange
+phenomenon among plants and animals, every new experiment in a
+chemical lecture.
+
+The more we know of science the more we must confess, that nothing
+is too strange to be true:  and therefore we must not blame or laugh
+at those who in old times believed in strange things which were not
+true.  They had an honest and rational sense of the infinite and
+wonderful nature of the universe, and of their own ignorance about
+it; and they were ready to believe anything, as the truly wise man
+will be ready also.  Only, from ignorance of the laws of the
+universe, they did not know what was likely to be true and what was
+not; and therefore they believed many things which experience has
+proved to be false; just as Seba or any of the early naturalists
+were ready to believe in six-legged dragons, or in the fatal power
+of the basilisk's eye; fancies which, if they had been facts, would
+not have been nearly as wonderful as the transformation of the
+commonest insect, or the fertilization of the meanest weed:  but
+which are rejected now, not because they are too wonderful, but
+simply because experience has proved them to be untrue.  And
+experience, it must be remembered, is the only sound test of truth.
+As long as men will settle beforehand for themselves, without
+experience, what they ought to see, so long will they be perpetually
+fancying that they or others have seen it; and their faith, as it is
+falsely called, will delude not only their reason, but their very
+hearing, sight, and touch.
+
+In this age we see no supernatural prodigies, because there are none
+to see; and when we are told that the reason why we see no prodigies
+is because we have no faith, we answer (if we be sensible), Just so.
+As long as people had faith, in plain English believed, that they
+could be magically cured of a disease, they thought that they or
+others were so cured.  As long as they believed that ghosts could be
+seen, every silly person saw them.  As long as they believed that
+daemons transformed themselves into an animal's shape, they said,
+"The devil croaked at me this morning in the shape of a raven; and
+therefore my horse fell with me."  As long as they believed that
+witches could curse them, they believed that an old woman in the
+next parish had overlooked them, their cattle, and their crops; and
+that therefore they were poor, diseased, and unfortunate.  These
+dreams, which were common among the peasants in remote districts
+five-and-twenty years ago, have vanished, simply from the spread (by
+the grace of God, as I hold) of an inductive habit of mind; of the
+habit of looking coolly, boldly, carefully, at facts; till now, even
+among the most ignorant peasantry, the woman who says that she has
+seen a ghost is likely not to be complimented on her assertion.  But
+it does not follow that that woman's grandmother, when she said that
+she saw a ghost, was a consciously dishonest person; on the
+contrary, so complex and contradictory is human nature, she would
+have been, probably, a person of more than average intellect and
+earnestness; and her instinct of the invisible and the infinite
+(which is that which raises man above the brutes) would have been,
+because misinformed, the honourable cause of her error.  And thus we
+may believe of the good hermits, of whom prodigies are recorded.
+
+As to the truth of the prodigies themselves, there are several ways
+of looking at them.
+
+First, we may neither believe nor disbelieve them; but talk of them
+as "devout fairy tales," religious romances, and allegories; and so
+save ourselves the trouble of judging whether they were true.  That
+is at least an easy and pleasant method; very fashionable in a
+careless, unbelieving age like this:  but in following it we shall
+be somewhat cowardly; for there is hardly any matter a clear
+judgment on which is more important just now than these same saints'
+miracles.
+
+Next, we may believe them utterly and all; and that is also an easy
+and pleasant method.  But if we follow it, we shall be forced to
+believe, among other facts, that St. Paphnutius was carried
+miraculously across a river, because he was too modest to undress
+himself and wade; that St. Helenus rode a savage crocodile across a
+river, and then commanded it to die; and that it died accordingly
+upon the spot; and that St. Goar, entering the palace of the
+Archbishop of Treves, hung his cape on a sunbeam, mistaking it for a
+peg.  And many other like things we shall be forced to believe, with
+which this book has no concern.
+
+Or, again, we may believe as much as we can, because we should like,
+if we could, to believe all.  But as we have not--no man has as yet-
+-any criterion by which we can judge how much of these stories we
+ought to believe and how much not, which actually happened and which
+did not, therefore we shall end (as not only the most earnest and
+pious, but the most clear and logical persons, who have taken up
+this view, have ended already) by believing all:  which is an end
+not to be desired.
+
+Or we may believe as few as possible of them, because we should
+like, if we could, to believe none.  And this method, for the reason
+aforesaid (namely, that there is no criterion by which we can settle
+what to believe and what not), usually ends in believing none at
+all.
+
+This, of believing none at all, is the last method; and this, I
+confess fairly, I am inclined to think is the right one; and that
+these good hermits worked no real miracles and saw no real visions
+whatsoever.
+
+I confess that this is a very serious assertion.  For there is as
+much evidence in favour of these hermits' miracles and visions as
+there is, with most men, of the existence of China; and much more
+than there, with most men, is of the earth's going round the sun.
+
+But the truth is, that evidence, in most matters of importance, is
+worth very little.  Very few people decide a question on its facts,
+but on their own prejudices as to what they would like to have
+happened.  Very few people are judges of evidence; not even of their
+own eyes and ears.  Very few persons, when they see a thing, know
+what they have seen, and what not.  They tell you quite honestly,
+not what they saw, but what they think they ought to have seen, or
+should like to have seen.  It is a fact too often conveniently
+forgotten, that in every human crowd the majority will be more or
+less bad, or at least foolish; the slaves of anger, spite, conceit,
+vanity, sordid hope, and sordid fear.  But let them be as honest and
+as virtuous as they may, pleasure, terror, and the desire of seeming
+to have seen or heard more than their neighbours, and all about it,
+make them exaggerate.  If you take apart five honest men, who all
+stood by and saw the same man do anything strange, offensive, or
+even exciting, no two of them will give you quite the same account
+of it.  If you leave them together, while excited, an hour before
+you question them, they will have compared notes and made up one
+story, which will contain all their mistakes combined; and it will
+require the skill of a practised barrister to pick the grain of
+wheat out of the chaff.
+
+Moreover, when people are crowded together under any excitement,
+there is nothing which they will not make each other believe.  They
+will make each other believe in spirit-rapping, table-turning, the
+mesmeric fluid, electro-biology; that they saw the lion on
+Northumberland House wagging his tail; {203} that witches have been
+seen riding in the air; that the Jews had poisoned the wells; that--
+but why go further into the sad catalogue of human absurdities, and
+the crimes which have followed them?  Every one is ashamed of not
+seeing what every one else sees, and persuades himself against his
+own eye sight for fear of seeming stupid or ill-conditioned; and
+therefore in all evidence, the fewer witnesses, the more truth,
+because the evidence of ten men is worth more than that of a hundred
+together; and the evidence of a thousand men together is worth still
+less.
+
+Now, if people are savage and ignorant, diseased and poverty-
+stricken; even if they are merely excited and credulous, and quite
+sure that something wonderful must happen, then they will be also
+quite certain that something wonderful has happened; and their
+evidence will be worth nothing at all.
+
+Moreover, suppose that something really wonderful has happened;
+suppose, for instance, that some nervous or paralytic person has
+been suddenly restored to strength by the command of a saint or of
+some other remarkable man.  This is quite possible, I may say
+common; and it is owing neither to physical nor to so-called
+spiritual causes, but simply to the power which a strong mind has
+over a weak one, to make it exert itself, and cure itself by its own
+will, though but for a time.
+
+When this good news comes to be told, and to pass from mouth to
+mouth, it ends of quite a different shape from that in which it
+began.  It has been added to, taken from, twisted in every direction
+according to the fancy or the carelessness of each teller, till what
+really happened in the first case no one will be able to say; {204}
+and this is, therefore, what actually happened, in the case of these
+reported wonders.  Moreover (and this is the most important
+consideration of all) for men to be fair judges of what really
+happens, they must have somewhat sound minds in somewhat sound
+bodies; which no man can have (however honest and virtuous) who
+gives himself up, as did these old hermits, to fasting and vigils.
+That continued sleeplessness produces delusions, and at last actual
+madness, every physician knows; and they know also, as many a poor
+sailor has known when starving on a wreck, and many a poor soldier
+in such a retreat as that of Napoleon from Moscow, that extreme
+hunger and thirst produce delusions also, very similar to (and
+caused much in the same way as) those produced by ardent spirits; so
+that many a wretched creature ere now has been taken up for
+drunkenness, who has been simply starving to death.
+
+Whence it follows that these good hermits, by continual fasts and
+vigils, must have put themselves (and their histories prove that
+they did put themselves) into a state of mental disease, in which
+their evidence was worth nothing; a state in which the mind cannot
+distinguish between facts and dreams; in which life itself is one
+dream; in which (as in the case of madness, or of a feverish child)
+the brain cannot distinguish between the objects which are outside
+it and the imaginations which are inside it.  And it is plain, that
+the more earnest and pious, and therefore the more ascetic, one of
+these good men was, the more utterly would his brain be in a state
+of chronic disease.  God forbid that we should scorn them,
+therefore, or think the worse of them in any way.  They were
+animated by a truly noble purpose, the resolution to be good
+according to their light; they carried out that purpose with
+heroical endurance, and they have their reward:  but this we must
+say, if we be rational people, that on their method of holiness, the
+more holy any one of them was, the less trustworthy was his account
+of any matter whatsoever; and that the hermit's peculiar temptations
+(quite unknown to the hundreds of unmarried persons who lead quiet
+and virtuous, because rational and healthy, lives) are to be
+attributed, not as they thought, to a daemon, but to a more or less
+unhealthy nervous system.
+
+It must be remembered, moreover, in justice to these old hermits,
+that they did not invent the belief that the air was full of
+daemons.  All the Eastern nations had believed in Genii (Jinns),
+Fairies (Peris), and Devas, Divs, or devils.  The Devas of the early
+Hindus were beneficent beings:  to the eyes of the old Persians (in
+their hatred of idolatry and polytheism), they appeared evil beings,
+Divs, or Devils.  And even so the genii and daemons of the Roman
+Empire became, in the eyes of the early Christians, wicked and cruel
+spirits.
+
+And they had their reasons, and on the whole sound ones, for so
+regarding them.  The educated classes had given up any honest and
+literal worship of the old gods.  They were trying to excuse
+themselves for their lingering half belief in them, by turning them
+into allegories, powers of nature, metaphysical abstractions, as did
+Porphyry and Iamblichus, Plotinus and Proclus, and the rest of the
+Neo-Platonist school of aristocratic philosophers and fine ladies:
+but the lower classes still, in every region, kept up their own
+local beliefs and worships, generally of the most foul and brutal
+kind.  The animal worship of Egypt among the lower classes was
+sufficiently detestable in the time of Herodotus.  It had certainly
+not improved in that of Juvenal and Persius; and was still less
+likely to have improved afterwards.  This is a subject so shocking
+that it can be only hinted at.  But as a single instance--what
+wonder if the early hermits of Egypt looked on the crocodile as
+something diabolic, after seeing it, for generations untold, petted
+and worshipped in many a city, simply because it was the incarnate
+symbol of brute strength, cruelty, and cunning?  We must remember,
+also, that earlier generations (the old Norsemen and Germans just as
+much as the old Egyptians) were wont to look on animals as more
+miraculous than we do; as more akin, in many cases, to human beings;
+as guided, not by a mere blind instinct, but by an intellect which
+was allied to, and often surpassed man's intellect.  "The bear,"
+said the old Norsemen, "had ten men's strength, and eleven men's
+wit; "and in some such light must the old hermits have looked on the
+hyaena, "bellua," the monster par excellence; or on the crocodile,
+the hippopotamus, and the poisonous snakes, which have been objects
+of terror and adoration in every country where they have been
+formidable.  Whether the hyaenas were daemons, or were merely sent
+by the daemons, St. Antony and St. Athanasius do not clearly define,
+for they did not know.  It was enough for them that the beasts
+prowled at night in those desert cities, which were, according to
+the opinions, not only of the Easterns, but of the Romans, the
+special haunt of ghouls, witches, and all uncanny things.  Their
+fiendish laughter--which, when heard even in a modern menagerie,
+excites and shakes most person's nerves--rang through hearts and
+brains which had no help or comfort, save in God alone.  The beast
+tore up the dead from their graves; devoured alike the belated child
+and the foulest offal; and was in all things a type and incarnation
+of that which man ought not to be.  Why should not he, so like the
+worst of men, have some bond or kindred with the evil beings who
+were not men?  Why should not the graceful and deadly cobra, the
+horrid cerastes, the huge throttling python, and even more, the
+loathly puff-adder, undistinguishable from the gravel among which he
+lay coiled, till he leaped furiously and unswerving, as if shot from
+a bow, upon his prey--why should not they too be kindred to that
+evil power who had been, in the holiest and most ancient books,
+personified by the name of the Serpent?  Before we have a right to
+say that the hermits' view of these deadly animals was not the most
+rational, as well as the most natural, which they could possibly
+have taken up, we must put ourselves in their places; and look at
+nature as they had learnt to look at it, not from Scripture and
+Christianity, so much as from the immemorial traditions of their
+heathen ancestors.
+
+If it be argued, that they ought to have been well enough acquainted
+with these beasts to be aware of their merely animal nature, the
+answer is--that they were probably not well acquainted with the
+beasts of the desert.  They had never, perhaps, before their
+"conversion," left the narrow valley, well tilled and well
+inhabited, which holds the Nile.  A climb from it into the barren
+mountains and deserts east and west was a journey out of the world
+into chaos, and the region of the unknown and the horrible, which
+demanded high courage from the unarmed and effeminate Egyptian, who
+knew not what monster he might meet ere sundown.  Moreover, it is
+very probable that during these centuries of decadence, in Egypt, as
+in other parts of the Roman Empire, "the wild beasts of the field
+had increased" on the population, and were reappearing in the more
+cultivated grounds.
+
+But these old hermits appear perpetually in another, and a more
+humane, if not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers of savage
+beasts.  Those who wish to know all which can be alleged in favour
+of their having possessed such a power, should read M. de
+Montalembert's chapter, "Les Moines et la Nature." {209}  All that
+learning and eloquence can say in favour of the theory is said
+there; and with a candour which demands from no man full belief of
+many beautiful but impossible stories, "travesties of historic
+verity," which have probably grown up from ever-varying tradition in
+the course of ages.  M. de Montalembert himself points out a
+probable explanation of many of them:--An ingenious scholar of our
+times{210} (he says) has pointed out their true and legitimate
+origin--at least in Ancient Gaul.  According to him, after the
+gradual disappearance of the Gallo-Roman population, the oxen, the
+horses, the dogs had returned to the wild state; and it was in the
+forest that the Breton missionaries had to seek these animals, to
+employ them anew for domestic use.  The miracle was, to restore to
+man the command and the enjoyment of those creatures, which God had
+given him as instruments.
+
+This theory is probable enough, and will explain, doubtless, many
+stories.  It may even explain those of tamed wolves, who may have
+been only feral dogs, i.e. dogs run wild.  But it will not explain
+those in which (in Ireland as well as in Gaul) the stag appears as
+obeying the hermit's commands.  The twelve huge stags who come out
+of the forest to draw the ploughs for St. Leonor and his monks, or
+those who drew to his grave the corpse of the Irish hermit Kellac,
+or those who came out of the forest to supply the place of St.
+Colodoc's cattle, which the seigneur had carried off in revenge for
+his having given sanctuary to a hunted deer, must have been wild
+from the beginning; and many another tale must remain without any
+explanation whatsoever--save the simplest of all.  Neither can any
+such theory apply to the marvels vouched for by St. Athanasius, St.
+Jerome, and other contemporaries, which "show us (to quote M. de
+Montalembert) the most ferocious animals at the feet of such men as
+Antony, Pachomius, Macarius, and Hilarion, and those who copied
+them.  At every page one sees wild asses, crocodiles, hippopotami,
+hyaenas, and, above all, lions, transformed into respectful
+companions and docile servants of these prodigies of sanctity; and
+one concludes thence, not that these beasts had reasonable souls,
+but that God knew how to glorify those who devoted themselves to his
+glory, and thus show how all Nature obeyed man before he was
+excluded from Paradise by his disobedience."
+
+This is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary biographers
+assign for these wonders.  The hermits were believed to have
+returned, by celibacy and penitence, to "the life of angels;" to
+that state of perfect innocence which was attributed to our first
+parents in Eden:  and therefore of them our Lord's words were true:
+"He that believeth in me, greater things than these (which I do)
+shall he do."
+
+But those who are of a different opinion will seek for different
+causes.  They will, the more they know of these stories, admire
+often their gracefulness, often their pathos, often their deep moral
+significance; they will feel the general truth of M. de
+Montalembert's words:  "There is not one of them which does not
+honour and profit human nature, and which does not express a victory
+of weakness over force, and of good over evil."  But if they look on
+physical facts as sacred things, as the voice of God revealed in the
+phenomena of matter, their first question will be, "Are they true?"
+
+Some of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus,
+riding and then slaying the crocodile.  It did not happen.  Abbot
+Ammon {212a} did not make two dragons guard his cell against
+robbers.  St. Gerasimus {212b} did not set the lion, out of whose
+foot he had taken a thorn, to guard his ass; and when the ass was
+stolen by an Arabian camel-driver, he did not (fancying that the
+lion had eaten the ass) make him carry water in the ass's stead.
+Neither did the lion, when next he met the thief and the ass, bring
+them up, in his own justification, {212c} to St. Gerasimus.  St.
+Costinian did not put a pack-saddle on a bear, and make him carry a
+great stone.  A lioness did not bring her five blind whelps to a
+hermit, that he might give them sight. {212d}  And, though Sulpicius
+Severus says that he saw it with his own eyes, {212e} it is hard to
+believe the latter part of the graceful story which he tells--of an
+old hermit whom he found dwelling alone twelve miles from the Nile,
+by a well of vast depth.  One ox he had, whose whole work was to
+raise the water by a wheel.  Around him was a garden of herbs, kept
+rich and green amid the burning sand, where neither seed nor root
+could live.  The old man and the ox fed together on the produce of
+their common toil; but two miles off there was a single palm-tree,
+to which, after supper, the hermit takes his guests.  Beneath the
+palm they find a lioness; but instead of attacking them, she moves
+"modestly" away at the old man's command, and sits down to wait for
+her share of dates.  She feeds out of his hand, like a household
+animal, and goes her way, leaving her guests trembling, "and
+confessing how great was the virtue of the hermit's faith, and how
+great their own infirmity."
+
+This last story, which one would gladly believe, were it possible, I
+have inserted as one of those which hang on the verge of
+credibility.  In the very next page, Sulpicius Severus tells a story
+quite credible, of a she-wolf, which he saw with his own eyes as
+tame as any dog.  There can be no more reason to doubt that fact
+than to ascribe it to a miracle.  We may even believe that the wolf,
+having gnawed to pieces the palm basket which the good old man was
+weaving, went off, knowing that she had done wrong, and after a week
+came back, begged pardon like a rational soul, and was caressed, and
+given a double share of bread.  Many of these stories which tell of
+the taming of wild beasts may be true, and yet contain no miracle.
+They are very few in number, after all, in proportion to the number
+of monks; they are to be counted at most by tens, while the monks
+are counted by tens of thousands.  And among many great companies of
+monks, there may have been one individual, as there is, for
+instance, in many a country parish a bee-taker or a horse-tamer, of
+quiet temper and strong nerve, and quick and sympathetic intellect,
+whose power over animals is so extraordinary, as to be attributed by
+the superstitious and uneducated to some hereditary secret, or some
+fairy gift.  Very powerful to attract wild animals must have been
+the good hermits' habit of sitting motionless for hours, till (as
+with St. Guthlac) the swallows sat and sang upon his knee; and of
+moving slowly and gently at his work, till (as with St. Karilef,
+while he pruned his vines) the robin came and built in his hood as
+it hung upon a tree:  very powerful his freedom from anger, and, yet
+more important, from fear, which always calls out rage in wild
+beasts, while a calm and bold front awes them:  and most powerful of
+all, the kindliness of heart, the love of companionship, which
+brought the wild bison to feed by St. Karilef's side as he prayed
+upon the lawn; and the hind to nourish St. Giles with her milk in
+the jungles of the Bouches du Rhone.  There was no miracle; save the
+moral miracle that, in ages of cruelty and slaughter, these men had
+learned (surely by the inspiration of God) how--
+
+
+"He prayeth well who loveth well
+Both man and bird and beast;
+He prayeth best who loveth best
+All things, both great and small;
+For the dear God who loveth us,
+He made and loveth all."
+
+
+After all, let these old Lives of the Fathers tell their own tale.
+By their own merits let them stand or fall; and stand they will in
+one sense:  for whatsoever else they are not, this they are--the
+histories of good men.  Their physical science and their daemonology
+may have been on a par with those of the world around them:  but
+they possessed what the world did not possess, faith in the utterly
+good and self-sacrificing God, and an ideal of virtue and purity
+such as had never been seen since the first Whitsuntide.  And they
+set themselves to realize that ideal with a simplicity, an energy,
+an endurance, which were altogether heroic.  How far they were right
+in "giving up the world" depends entirely on what the world was then
+like, and whether there was any hope of reforming it.  It was their
+opinion that there was no such hope; and those who know best the
+facts which surrounded them, its utter frivolity, its utter
+viciousness, the deadness which had fallen on art, science,
+philosophy, human life, whether family, social, or political; the
+prevalence of slavery, in forms altogether hideous and
+unmentionable; the insecurity of life and property, whether from
+military and fiscal tyranny, or from perpetual inroads of the so-
+called "Barbarians:" those, I say, who know these facts best will be
+most inclined to believe that the old hermits were wise in their
+generation; that the world was past salvation; that it was not a
+wise or humane thing to marry and bring children into the world;
+that in such a state of society, an honest and virtuous man could
+not exist, and that those who wished to remain honest and virtuous
+must flee into the desert, and be alone with God and their fellows.
+
+The question which had to be settled then and there, at that
+particular crisis of the human race, was not--Are certain wonders
+true or false? but--Is man a mere mortal animal, or an immortal
+soul?  Is his flesh meant to serve his spirit, or his spirit his
+flesh?  Is pleasure, or virtue, the end and aim of his existence?
+
+The hermits set themselves to answer that question, not by arguing
+or writing about it, but by the only way in which any question can
+be settled--by experiment.  They resolved to try whether their
+immortal souls could not grow better and better, while their mortal
+bodies were utterly neglected; to make their flesh serve their
+spirit; to make virtue their only end and aim; and utterly to
+relinquish the very notion of pleasure.  To do this one thing, and
+nothing else, they devoted their lives; and they succeeded.  From
+their time it has been a received opinion, not merely among a few
+philosophers or a few Pharisees, but among the lowest, the poorest,
+the most ignorant, who have known aught of Christianity, that man is
+an immortal soul; that the spirit, and not the flesh, ought to be
+master and guide; that virtue is the highest good; and that purity
+is a virtue, impurity a sin.  These men were, it has been well said,
+the very fathers of purity.  And if, in that and in other matters,
+they pushed their purpose to an extreme--if, by devoting themselves
+utterly to it alone, they suffered, not merely in wideness of mind
+or in power of judging evidence, but even in brain, till they became
+some of them at times insane from over-wrought nerves--it is not for
+us to blame the soldier for the wounds which have crippled him, or
+the physician for the disease which he has caught himself while
+trying to heal others.  Let us not speak ill of the bridge which
+carries us over, nor mock at those who did the work for us as seemed
+to them best, and perhaps in the only way in which it could be done
+in those evil days.  As a matter of fact, through these men's
+teaching and example we have learnt what morality, purity, and
+Christianity we possess; and if any answer that we have learnt them
+from the Scriptures, who but these men preserved the Scriptures to
+us?  Who taught us to look on them as sacred and inspired?  Who
+taught us to apply them to our own daily lives, and find comfort and
+teaching in every age, in words written ages ago by another race in
+a foreign land?  The Scriptures were the book, generally the only
+book, which they read and meditated, not merely from morn till
+night, but, as far as fainting nature would allow, from night to
+morn again:  and their method of interpreting them (as far as I can
+discover) differed in nothing from that common to all Christians
+now, save that they interpreted literally certain precepts of our
+Lord and of St. Paul which we consider to have applied only to the
+"temporary necessity" of a decayed, dying, and hopeless age such as
+that in which they lived.  And therefore, because they knew the
+Scripture well, and learned in it lessons of true virtue and true
+philosophy, though unable to save civilization in the East, they
+were able at least to save it in the West.  The European hermits,
+and the monastic communities which they originated, were indeed a
+seed of life, not merely to the conquered Roman population of Gaul
+or Spain or Britain, but to the heathen and Arian barbarians who
+conquered them.  Among those fierce and armed savages, the unarmed
+hermits stood, strong only by justice, purity, and faith in God,
+defying the oppressor, succouring the oppressed, and awing and
+softening the new aristocracy of the middle age, which was founded
+on mere brute force and pride of race; because the monk took his
+stand upon mere humanity; because he told the wild conqueror, Goth
+or Sueve, Frank or Burgund, Saxon or Norseman, that all men were
+equal in the sight of God; because he told them (to quote
+Athanasius's own words concerning Antony) that "virtue is not beyond
+human nature;" that the highest moral excellence was possible to the
+most low-born and unlettered peasant whom they trampled under their
+horses' hoofs, if he were only renewed and sanctified by the Spirit
+of God.  They accepted the lowest and commonest facts of that
+peasant's wretched life; they outdid him in helplessness,
+loneliness, hunger, dirt, and slavery; and then said, "Among all
+these I can yet be a man of God, wise, virtuous, pure, free, and
+noble in the sight of God, though not in the sight of Caesars,
+counts, and knights."  They went on, it is true, to glorify the
+means above the end; to consecrate childlessness, self-torture,
+dirt, ignorance, as if they were things pleasing to God and holy in
+themselves.  But in spite of those errors they wrought throughout
+Europe a work which, as far as we can judge, could have been done in
+no other way; done only by men who gave up all that makes life worth
+having for the sake of being good themselves and making others good.
+
+
+
+THE HERMITS OF EUROPE
+
+
+
+Most readers will recollect what an important part in the old
+ballads and romances is played by the hermit.
+
+He stands in strongest contrast to the knight.  He fills up, as it
+were, by his gentleness and self-sacrifice, what is wanting in the
+manhood of the knight, the slave too often of his own fierceness and
+self-assertion.  The hermit rebukes him when he sins, heals him when
+he is wounded, stays his hand in some mad murderous duel, such as
+was too common in days when any two armed horsemen meeting on road
+or lawn ran blindly at each other in the mere lust of fighting, as
+boars or stags might run.  Sometimes he interferes to protect the
+oppressed serf; sometimes to rescue the hunted deer which has taken
+sanctuary at his feet.  Sometimes, again, his influence is that of
+intellectual superiority; of worldly experience; of the travelled
+man who has seen many lands and many nations.  Sometimes, again,
+that of sympathy; for he has been a knight himself, and fought and
+sinned, and drank of the cup of vanity and vexation of spirit, like
+the fierce warrior who kneels at his feet.
+
+All who have read (and all ought to have read) Spenser's Fairy
+Queen, must recollect his charming description of the hermit with
+whom Prince Arthur leaves Serena and the squire after they have been
+wounded by "the blatant beast" of Slander; when--
+
+
+   "Toward night they came unto a plain
+By which a little hermitage there lay
+Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.
+
+"And nigh thereto a little chapel stood,
+Which being all with ivy overspread
+Decked all the roof, and shadowing the rood,
+Seemed like a grove fair branched overhead;
+Therein the hermit which his here led
+In straight observance of religious vow,
+Was wont his hours and holy things to bed;
+And therein he likewise was praying now,
+When as these knights arrived, they wist not where nor how.
+
+"They stayed not there, but straightway in did pass:
+Who when the hermit present saw in place,
+From his devotions straight he troubled was;
+Which breaking off, he toward them did pace
+With staid steps and grave beseeming grace:
+For well it seemed that whilom he had been
+Some goodly person, and of gentle race,
+That could his good to all, and well did ween
+How each to entertain with courtesy beseen.
+
+* * * * *
+
+"He thence them led into his hermitage,
+Letting their steeds to graze upon the green:
+Small was his house, and like a little cage,
+For his own term, yet inly neat and clean,
+Decked with green boughs, and flowers gay beseen
+Therein he them full fair did entertain,
+Not with such forged shews, as fitter been
+For courting fools that courtesies would feign,
+But with entire affection and appearance plain.
+
+* * * * *
+
+How be that careful hermit did his best
+With many kinds of medicines meet to tame
+The poisonous humour that did most infest
+Their reakling wounds, and every day them duly dressed.
+
+"For he right well in leech's craft was seen;
+And through the long experience of his days,
+Which had in many fortunes tossed been,
+And passed through many perilous assays:
+He knew the divers want of mortal ways,
+And in the minds of men had great insight;
+Which with sage counsel, when they went astray,
+He could inform and them reduce aright;
+And all the passions heal which wound the weaker sprite.
+
+"For whilome he had been a doughty knight,
+As any one that lived in his days,
+And proved oft in many a perilous fight,
+In which he grace and glory won always,
+And in all battles bore away the bays:
+But being now attached with timely age,
+And weary of this world's unquiet ways,
+He took himself unto this hermitage,
+In which he lived alone like careless bird in cage."
+
+
+This picture is not poetry alone:  it is history.  Such men actually
+lived, and such work they actually did, from the southernmost point
+of Italy to the northernmost point of Scotland, during centuries in
+which there was no one else to do the work.  The regular clergy
+could not have done it.  Bishops and priests were entangled in the
+affairs of this world, striving to be statesmen, striving to be
+landowners, striving to pass Church lands on from father to son, and
+to establish themselves as an hereditary caste of priests.  The
+chaplain or house-priest who was to be found in every nobleman's,
+almost every knight's castle, was apt to become a mere upper
+servant, who said mass every morning in return for the good cheer
+which he got every evening, and fetched and carried at the bidding
+of his master and mistress.  But the hermit who dwelt alone in the
+forest glen, occupied, like an old Hebrew prophet, a superior and an
+independent position.  He needed nought from any man save the scrap
+of land which the lord was only too glad to allow him in return for
+his counsels and his prayers.  And to him, as to a mysterious and
+supernatural personage, the lord went privately for advice in his
+quarrels with the neighbouring barons, or with his own kin.  To him
+the lady took her children when they were sick, to be healed, as she
+fancied, by his prayers and blessings; or poured into his ears a
+hundred secret sorrows and anxieties which she dare not tell to her
+fierce lord, who hunted and fought the livelong day, and drank too
+much liquor every night.
+
+This class of men sprang up rapidly, by natural causes, and yet by a
+Divine necessity, as soon as the Western Empire was conquered by the
+German tribes; and those two young officers whom we saw turning
+monks at Treves, in the time of St. Augustine, may, if they lived to
+be old men, have given sage counsel again and again to fierce German
+knights and kinglets, who had dispossessed the rich and effeminate
+landowners of their estates, and sold them, their wives, and
+children, in gangs by the side of their own slaves.  Only the Roman
+who had turned monk would probably escape that fearful ruin; and he
+would remain behind, while the rest of his race was enslaved or
+swept away, as a seed of Christianity and of civilization, destined
+to grow and spread, and bring the wild conquerors in due time into
+the kingdom of God.
+
+For the first century or two after the invasion of the barbarians,
+the names of the hermits and saints are almost exclusively Latin.
+Their biographies represent them in almost every case as born of
+noble Roman parents.  As time goes on, German names appear, and at
+last entirely supersede the Latin ones; showing that the conquering
+race had learned from the conquered to become hermits and monks like
+them.
+
+
+
+ST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM
+
+
+
+Of all these saintly civilizers, St. Severinus of Vienna is perhaps
+the most interesting, and his story the most historically
+instructive. {224}
+
+A common time, the middle of the fifth century, the province of
+Noricum (Austria, as we should now call it) was the very highway of
+invading barbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom in which
+Huns, Alemanni, Rugi, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled up and
+down and round the starving and beleaguered towns of what had once
+been a happy and fertile province, each tribe striving to trample
+the other under foot, and to march southward over their corpses to
+plunder what was still left of the already plundered wealth of Italy
+and Rome.  The difference of race, in tongue, and in manners,
+between the conquered and their conquerors, was made more painful by
+difference in creed.  The conquering Germans and Huns were either
+Arians or heathens.  The conquered race (though probably of very
+mixed blood), who called themselves Romans, because they spoke Latin
+and lived under the Roman law, were orthodox Catholics; and the
+miseries of religious persecution were too often added to the usual
+miseries of invasion.
+
+It was about the year 455-60.  Attila, the great King of the Huns,
+who called himself--and who was--"the Scourge of God," was just
+dead.  His empire had broken up.  The whole centre of Europe was in
+a state of anarchy and war; and the hapless Romans along the Danube
+were in the last extremity of terror, not knowing by what fresh
+invader their crops would be swept off up to the very gates of the
+walled towers which were their only defence:  when there appeared
+among them, coming out of the East, a man of God.
+
+Who he was, he would not tell.  His speech showed him to be an
+African Roman--a fellow-countryman of St. Augustine--probably from
+the neighbourhood of Carthage.  He had certainly at one time gone to
+some desert in the East, zealous to learn "the more perfect life."
+Severinus, he said, was his name; a name which indicated high rank,
+as did the manners and the scholarship of him who bore it.  But more
+than his name he would not tell.  "If you take me for a runaway
+slave," he said, smiling, "get ready money to redeem me with when my
+master demands me back."  For he believed that they would have need
+of him; that God had sent him into that land that he might be of use
+to its wretched people.  And certainly he could have come into the
+neighbourhood of Vienna at that moment for no other purpose than to
+do good, unless he came to deal in slaves.
+
+He settled first at a town called by his biographer Casturis; and,
+lodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the hermit
+life.  Meanwhile the German tribes were prowling round the town; and
+Severinus, going one day into the church, began to warn the priests
+and clergy and all the people that a destruction was coming on them
+which they could only avert by prayer and fasting and the works of
+mercy.  They laughed him to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman
+walls, which the invaders--wild horsemen, who had no military
+engines--were unable either to scale or batter down.  Severinus left
+the town at once, prophesying, it was said, the very day and hour of
+its fall.  He went on to the next town, which was then closely
+garrisoned by a barbarian force, and repeated his warning there:
+but while the people were listening to him, there came an old man to
+the gate, and told them how Casturis had been already sacked, as the
+man of God had foretold; and, going into the church, threw himself
+at the feet of St. Severinus, and said that he had been saved by his
+merits from being destroyed with his fellow-townsmen.
+
+Then the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and gave
+themselves up to fasting and almsgiving and prayer for three whole
+days.
+
+And on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening sacrifice
+was fulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the barbarians,
+seized with panic fear, and probably hating and dreading--like all
+those wild tribes--confinement between four stone walls instead of
+the free open life of the tent and the stockade, forced the Romans
+to open their gates to them, rushed out into the night, and in their
+madness slew each other.
+
+In those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and they, as
+their sole remedy, thought good to send for the man of God from the
+neighbouring town.  He went, and preached to them, too, repentance
+and almsgiving.  The rich, it seems, had hidden up their stores of
+corn, and left the poor to starve.  At least St. Severinus
+discovered (by Divine revelation, it was supposed), that a widow
+named Procula had done as much.  He called her out into the midst of
+the people, and asked her why she, a noble woman and free-born, had
+made herself a slave to avarice, which is idolatry.  If she would
+not give her corn to Christ's poor, let her throw it into the Danube
+to feed the fish, for any gain from it she would not have.  Procula
+was abashed, and served out her hoards thereupon willingly to the
+poor; and a little while afterwards, to the astonishment of all,
+vessels came down the Danube, laden with every kind of merchandise.
+They had been frozen up for many days near Passau, in the thick ice
+of the river Enns:  but the prayers of God's servant (so men
+believed) had opened the ice-gates, and let them down the stream
+before the usual time.
+
+Then the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and carried
+off human beings and cattle, as many as they could find.  Severinus,
+like some old Hebrew prophet, did not shrink from advising hard
+blows, where hard blows could avail.  Mamertinus, the tribune, or
+officer in command, told him that he had so few soldiers, and those
+so ill-armed, that he dare not face the enemy.  Severinus answered,
+that they should get weapons from the barbarians themselves; the
+Lord would fight for them, and they should hold their peace:  only
+if they took any captives they should bring them safe to him.  At
+the second milestone from the city they came upon the plunderers,
+who fled at once, leaving their arms behind.  Thus was the prophecy
+of the man of God fulfilled.  The Romans brought the captives back
+to him unharmed.  He loosed their bonds, gave them food and drink,
+and let them go.  But they were to tell their comrades that, if ever
+they came near that spot again, celestial vengeance would fall on
+them, for the God of the Christians fought from heaven in his
+servants' cause.
+
+So the barbarians trembled, and went away.  And the fear of St.
+Severinus fell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though they were;
+and on the Rugii, who held the north bank of the Danube in those
+evil days.  St. Severinus, meanwhile, went out of Vienna, and built
+himself a cell at a place called "At the Vineyards."  But some
+benevolent impulse--Divine revelation, his biographer calls it--
+prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a hill close to
+Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up, tenanted by his
+disciples.  "There," says his biographer, "he longed to escape the
+crowds of men who were wont to come to him, and cling closer to God
+in continual prayer:  but the more he longed to dwell in solitude,
+the more often he was warned by revelations not to deny his presence
+to the afflicted people."  He fasted continually; he went barefoot
+even in the midst of winter, which was so severe, the story
+continues, in those days around Vienna, that wagons crossed the
+Danube on the solid ice:  and yet, instead of being puffed-up by his
+own virtues, he set an example of humility to all, and bade them
+with tears to pray for him, that the Saviour's gifts to him might
+not heap condemnation on his head.
+
+Over the wild Rugii St. Severinus seems to have acquired unbounded
+influence.  Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour out his sorrows to
+him, and tell him how the princes of the Goths would surely slay
+him; for when he had asked leave of him to pass on into Italy, he
+would not let him go.  But St. Severinus prophesied to him that the
+Goths would do him no harm.  Only one warning he must take:  "Let it
+not grieve him to ask peace even for the least of men."
+
+The friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king and
+the cultivated saint was carried on by his son Feva:  but his
+"deadly and noxious wife" Gisa, who appears to have been a fierce
+Arian, always, says his biographer, kept him back from clemency.
+One story of Gisa's misdeeds is so characteristic both of the
+manners of the time and of the style in which the original biography
+is written, that I shall take leave to insert it at length.
+
+"The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the
+aforementioned Flaccitheus, following his father's devotion, began,
+at the commencement of his reign, often to visit the holy man.  His
+deadly and noxious wife, named Gisa, always kept him back from the
+remedies of clemency.  For she, among the other plague-spots of her
+iniquity, even tried to have certain Catholics re-baptized:  but
+when her husband did not consent, on account of his reverence for
+St. Severinus, she gave up immediately her sacrilegious intention,
+burdening the Romans, nevertheless, with hard conditions, and
+commanding some of them to be exiled to the Danube.  For when one
+day, she, having come to the village next to Vienna, had ordered
+some of them to be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the most
+menial offices of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged
+that they might be let go.  But she, blazing up in a flame of fury,
+ordered the harshest of answers to be returned.  'I pray thee,' she
+said, 'servant of God, hiding there within thy cell, allow us to
+settle what we choose about our own slaves.'  But the man of God
+hearing this, 'I trust,' he said, 'in my Lord Jesus Christ, that she
+will be forced by necessity to fulfil that which in her wicked will
+she has despised.'  And forthwith a swift rebuke followed, and
+brought low the soul of the arrogant woman.  For she had confined in
+close custody certain barbarian goldsmiths, that they might make
+regal ornaments.  To them the son of the aforesaid king, Frederic by
+name, still a little boy, had gone in, in childish levity, on the
+very day on which the queen had despised the servant of God.  The
+goldsmiths put a sword to the child's breast, saying, that if any
+one attempted to enter without giving them an oath that they should
+be protected, he should die; and that they would slay the king's
+child first, and themselves afterwards, seeing that they had no hope
+of life left, being worn out with long prison.  When she heard that,
+the cruel and impious queen, rending her garments for grief, cried
+out, 'O servant of God, Severinus, are the injuries which I did thee
+thus avenged?  Hast thou obtained by the earnest prayer thou hast
+poured out this punishment for my contempt, that thou shouldst
+avenge it on my own flesh and blood?'  Then, running up and down
+with manifold contrition and miserable lamentation, she confessed
+that for the act of contempt which she had committed against the
+servant of God she was struck by the vengeance of the present blow;
+and forthwith she sent knights to ask for forgiveness, and sent
+across the river the Romans his prayers for whom she had despised.
+The goldsmiths, having received immediately a promise of safety, and
+giving up the child, were in like manner let go.
+
+"The most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave boundless
+thanks to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of
+suppliants for this end, that as faith, hope, and charity grow,
+while lesser things are sought, He may concede greater things.
+Lastly, this did the mercy of the Omnipotent Saviour work, that
+while it brought to slavery a woman free, but cruel overmuch, she
+was forced to restore to liberty those who were enslaved.  This
+having been marvellously gained, the queen hastened with her husband
+to the servant of God, and showed him her son, who, she confessed,
+had been freed from the verge of death by his prayers, and promised
+that she would never go against his commands."
+
+To this period of Severinus's life belongs the once famous story of
+his interview with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy, and
+brother of the great Onulph or Wolf, who was the founder of the
+family of the Guelphs, Counts of Altorf, and the direct ancestors of
+Victoria, Queen of England.  Their father was AEdecon, secretary at
+one time of Attila, and chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who,
+though German, had clung faithfully to Attila's sons, and came to
+ruin at the great battle of Netad, when the empire of the Huns broke
+up once and for ever.  Then Odoacer and his brother started over the
+Alps to seek their fortunes in Italy, and take service, after the
+fashion of young German adventurers, with the Romans; and they came
+to St. Severinus's cell, and went in, heathens as they probably
+were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and Odoacer had to stoop
+and to stand stooping, so huge he was.  The saint saw that he was no
+common lad, and said, "Go to Italy, clothed though thou be in ragged
+sheepskins:  thou shalt soon give greater gifts to thy friends."  So
+Odoacer went on into Italy, deposed the last of the Caesars, a
+paltry boy, Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his
+own astonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king
+of Italy; and, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered
+the prophecy of Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon he
+chose to ask.  But all that the saint asked was, that he should
+forgive some Romans whom he had banished.  St. Severinus meanwhile
+foresaw that Odoacer's kingdom would not last, as he seems to have
+foreseen many things, by no miraculous revelation, but simply as a
+far-sighted man of the world.  For when certain German knights were
+boasting before him of the power and glory of Odoacer, he said that
+it would last some thirteen, or at most fourteen years; and the
+prophecy (so all men said in those days) came exactly true.
+
+There is no need to follow the details of St. Severinus's labours
+through some five-and-twenty years of perpetual self-sacrifice--and,
+as far as this world was concerned, perpetual disaster.  Eugippius's
+chapters are little save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the
+other, from Passau to Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the
+war seemed to have concentrated themselves under St. Severinus's
+guardianship in the latter city.  We find, too, tales of famine, of
+locust-swarms, of little victories over the barbarians, which do not
+arrest wholesale defeat:  but we find through all St. Severinus
+labouring like a true man of God, conciliating the invading chiefs,
+redeeming captives, procuring for the cities which were still
+standing supplies of clothes for the fugitives, persuading the
+husbandmen, seemingly through large districts, to give even in time
+of dearth a tithe of their produce to the poor;--a tale of noble
+work which one regrets to see defaced by silly little prodigies,
+more important seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius than the
+great events which were passing round him.  But this is a fault too
+common with monk chroniclers.  The only historians of the early
+middle age, they have left us a miserably imperfect record of it,
+because they were looking always rather for the preternatural than
+for the natural.  Many of the saints' lives, as they have come down
+to us, are mere catalogues of wonders which never happened, from
+among which the antiquary must pick, out of passing hints and
+obscure allusions, the really important facts of the time,--changes
+political and social, geography, physical history, the manners,
+speech, and look of nations now extinct, and even the characters and
+passions of the actors in the story.  How much can be found among
+such a list of wonders, by an antiquary who has not merely learning
+but intellectual insight, is proved by the admirable notes which Dr.
+Reeves has appended to Adamnan's life of St. Columba:  but one
+feels, while studying his work, that, had Adamnan thought more of
+facts and less of prodigies, he might have saved Dr. Reeves the
+greater part of his labour, and preserved to us a mass of knowledge
+now lost for ever.
+
+And so with Eugippius's life of St. Severinus.  The reader finds how
+the man who had secretly celebrated a heathen sacrifice was
+discovered by St. Severinus, because, while the tapers of the rest
+of the congregation were lighted miraculously from heaven, his taper
+alone would not light; and passes on impatiently, with regret that
+the biographer omits to mention what the heathen sacrifice was like.
+He reads how the Danube dared not rise above the mark of the cross
+which St. Severinus had cut upon the posts of a timber chapel; how a
+poor man, going out to drive the locusts off his little patch of
+corn instead of staying in the church all day to pray, found the
+next morning that his crop alone had been eaten, while all the
+fields around remained untouched.  Even the well-known story, which
+has a certain awfulness about it, how St. Severinus watched all
+night by the bier of the dead priest Silvinus, and ere the morning
+dawned bade him in the name of God speak to his brethren; and how
+the dead man opened his eyes, and Severinus asked him whether he
+wished to return to life, and he answered complainingly, "Keep me no
+longer here; nor cheat me of that perpetual rest which I had already
+found," and so, closing his eyes once more, was still for ever:--
+even such a story as this, were it true, would be of little value in
+comparison with the wisdom, faith, charity, sympathy, industry,
+utter self-sacrifice, which formed the true greatness of such a man
+as Severinus.
+
+At last the noble life wore itself out.  For two years Severinus had
+foretold that his end was near; and foretold, too, that the people
+for whom he had spent himself should go forth in safety, as Israel
+out of Egypt, and find a refuge in some other Roman province,
+leaving behind them so utter a solitude, that the barbarians, in
+their search for the hidden treasures of the civilization which they
+had exterminated, should dig up the very graves of the dead.  Only,
+when the Lord willed that people to deliver them, they must carry
+away his bones with them, as the children of Israel carried the
+bones of Joseph.
+
+Then Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king, and Gisa, his cruel
+wife; and when he had warned them how they must render an account to
+God for the people committed to their charge, he stretched his hand
+out to the bosom of the king.  "Gisa," he asked, "dost thou love
+most the soul within that breast, or gold and silver?"  She answered
+that she loved her husband above all.  "Cease then," he said, "to
+oppress the innocent:  lest their affliction be the ruin of your
+power."
+
+Severinus' presage was strangely fulfilled.  Feva had handed over
+the city of Vienna to his brother Frederic,--"poor and impious,"
+says Eugippius.  Severinus, who knew him well, sent for him, and
+warned him that he himself was going to the Lord; and that if, after
+his death, Frederic dared touch aught of the substance of the poor
+and the captive, the wrath of God would fall on him.  In vain the
+barbarian pretended indignant innocence; Severinus sent him away
+with fresh warnings.
+
+"Then on the nones of January he was smitten slightly with a pain in
+the side.  And when that had continued for three days, at midnight
+he bade the brethren come to him."  He renewed his talk about the
+coming emigration, and entreated again that his bones might not be
+left behind; and having bidden all in turn come near and kiss him,
+and having received the sacrament of communion, he forbade them to
+weep for him, and commanded them to sing a psalm.  They hesitated,
+weeping.  He himself gave out the psalm, "Praise the Lord in his
+saints, and let all that hath breath praise the Lord;" and so went
+to rest in the Lord.
+
+No sooner was he dead than Frederic seized on the garments kept in
+the monastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded his men to
+carry off the vessels of the altar.  Then followed a scene
+characteristic of the time.  The steward sent to do the deed shrank
+from the crime of sacrilege.  A knight, Anicianus by name, went in
+his stead, and took the vessels of the altar.  But his conscience
+was too strong for him.  Trembling and delirium fell on him, and he
+fled away to a lonely island, and became a hermit there.  Frederic,
+impenitent, swept away all in the monastery, leaving nought but the
+bare walls, "which he could not carry over the Danube."  But on him,
+too, vengeance fell.  Within a month he was slain by his own nephew.
+Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii, and carried off Feva and Gisa
+captive to Rome.  And then the long-promised emigration came.
+Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to establish a
+half-Roman kingdom in Italy), or for love of St. Severinus himself,
+sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the miserable
+remnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed among the
+wasted and unpeopled farms of Italy.  And with them went forth the
+corpse of St. Severinus, undecayed, though he had been six years
+dead, and giving forth exceeding fragrance, though (says Eugippius)
+no embalmer's hand had touched it.  In a coffin, which had been long
+prepared for it, it was laid on a wagon, and went over the Alps into
+Italy, working (according to Eugippius) the usual miracles on the
+way, till it found a resting-place near Naples, in that very villa
+of Lucullus at Misenum, to which Odoacer had sent the last Emperor
+of Rome to dream his ignoble life away in helpless luxury.
+
+So ends this tragic story.  Of its substantial truth there can be no
+doubt.  The miracles recorded in it are fewer and less strange than
+those of the average legends--as is usually the case when an eye-
+witness writes.  And that Eugippius was an eye-witness of much which
+he tells, no one accustomed to judge of the authenticity of
+documents can doubt, if he studies the tale as it stands in Pez.
+{238}  As he studies, too, he will perhaps wish with me that some
+great dramatist may hereafter take Eugippius's quaint and rough
+legend, and shape it into immortal verse.  For tragic, in the very
+nighest sense, the story is throughout.  M. Ozanam has well said of
+that death-bed scene between the saint and the barbarian king and
+queen--"The history of invasions has many a pathetic scene:  but I
+know none more instructive than the dying agony of that old Roman
+expiring between two barbarians, and less touched with the ruin of
+the empire than with the peril of their souls."  But even more
+instructive, and more tragic also, is the strange coincidence that
+the wonder-working corpse of the starved and barefooted hermit
+should rest beside the last Emperor of Rome.  It is the symbol of a
+new era.  The kings of this world have been judged and cast out.
+The empire of the flesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit
+to conquer thenceforth for evermore.
+
+But if St. Severinus's labours in Austria were in vain, there were
+other hermits, in Gaul and elsewhere, whose work endured and
+prospered, and developed to a size of which they had never dreamed.
+The stories of these good men may be read at length in the
+Bollandists and Surius:  in a more accessible and more graceful form
+in M. de Montalembert's charming pages.  I can only sketch, in a few
+words, the history of a few of the more famous.  Pushing continually
+northward and westward from the shores of the Mediterranean, fresh
+hermits settled in the mountains and forests, collected disciples
+round them, and founded monasteries, which, during the sanguinary
+and savage era of the Merovingian kings, were the only retreats for
+learning, piety, and civilization.  St. Martin (the young soldier
+who may be seen in old pictures cutting his cloak in two with a
+sword, to share it with a beggar) left, after twenty campaigns, the
+army into which he had been enrolled against his will, a conscript
+of fifteen years old, to become a hermit, monk, and missionary.  In
+the desert isle of Gallinaria, near Genoa, he lived on roots, to
+train himself for the monastic life; and then went north-west, to
+Poitiers, to found Liguge (said to be the most ancient monastery in
+France), to become Bishop of Tours, and to overthrow throughout his
+diocese, often at the risk of his life, the sacred oaks and Druid
+stones of the Gauls, and the temples and idols of the Romans.  But
+he--like many more--longed for the peace of the hermit's cell; and
+near Tours, between the river Loire and lofty cliffs, he hid himself
+in a hut of branches, while his eighty disciples dwelt in caves of
+the rocks above, clothed only in skins of camels.  He died in A.D.
+397, at the age of eighty-one, leaving behind him, not merely that
+famous monastery of Marmontier (Martini Monasterium), which endured
+till the Revolution of 1793, but, what is infinitely more to his
+glory, his solemn and indignant protest against the first
+persecution by the Catholic Church--the torture and execution of
+those unhappy Priscillianist fanatics, whom the Spanish Bishops (the
+spiritual forefathers of the Inquisition) had condemned in the name
+of the God of love.  Martin wept over the fate of the
+Priscillianists.  Happily he was no prophet, or his head would have
+become (like Jeremiah's) a fount of tears, could he have foreseen
+that the isolated atrocity of those Spanish Bishops would have
+become the example and the rule, legalized and formulized and
+commanded by Pope after Pope, for every country in Christendom.
+
+Sulpicius Severus, again (whose Lives of the Desert Fathers I have
+already quoted), carried the example of these fathers into his own
+estates in Aquitaine.  Selling his lands, he dwelt among his now
+manumitted slaves, sleeping on straw, and feeding on the coarsest
+bread and herbs; till the hapless neophytes found that life was not
+so easily sustained in France as in Egypt; and complained to him
+that it was in vain to try "to make them live like angels, when they
+were only Gauls."
+
+Another centre of piety and civilization was the rocky isle of
+Lerins, off the port of Toulon.  Covered with the ruins of an
+ancient Roman city, and swarming with serpents, it was colonized
+again, in A.D. 410, by a young man of rank named Honoratus, who
+gathered round him a crowd of disciples, converted the desert isle
+into a garden of flowers and herbs, and made the sea-girt sanctuary
+of Lerins one of the most important spots of the then world.
+
+"The West," says M. de Montalembert, "had thenceforth nothing to
+envy the East; and soon that retreat, destined by its founder to
+renew on the shores of Provence the austerities of the Thebaid,
+became a celebrated school of Christian theology and philosophy, a
+citadel inaccessible to the waves of the barbarian invasion, an
+asylum for the letters and sciences which were fleeing from Italy,
+then overrun by the Goths; and, lastly, a nursery of bishops and
+saints, who spread through Gaul the knowledge of the Gospel and the
+glory of Lerins.  We shall soon see the rays of his light flash even
+into Ireland and England, by the blessed hands of Patrick and
+Augustine."
+
+In the year 425, Romanus, a young monk from the neighbourhood of
+Lyons, had gone up into the forests of the Jura, carrying with him
+the "Lives of the Hermits," and a few seeds and tools; and had
+settled beneath an enormous pine; shut out from mankind by
+precipices, torrents, and the tangled trunks of primaeval trees,
+which had fallen and rotted on each other age after age.  His
+brother Lupicinus joined him; then crowds of disciples; then his
+sister, and a multitude of women.  The forests were cleared, the
+slopes planted; a manufacture of box-wood articles--chairs among the
+rest--was begun; and within the next fifty years the Abbey of
+Condat, or St. Claude, as it was afterwards called, had become, not
+merely an agricultural colony, or even merely a minster for the
+perpetual worship of God, but the first school of that part of Gaul;
+in which the works of Greek as well as Latin orators were taught,
+not only to the young monks, but to young laymen likewise.
+
+Meanwhile the volcanic peaks of the Auvergne were hiding from their
+Arian invaders the ruined gentry of Central France.  Effeminate and
+luxurious slave-holders, as they are painted by Sidonius
+Appolineris, bishop of Clermont, in that same Auvergne, nothing was
+left for them when their wealth was gone but to become monks:  and
+monks they became.  The lava grottoes held hermits, who saw visions
+and daemons, as St. Antony had seen them in Egypt; while near
+Treves, on the Moselle, a young hermit named Wolflaich tried to
+imitate St. Simeon Stylites' penance on the pillar; till his bishop,
+foreseeing that in that severe climate he would only kill himself,
+wheedled him away from his station, pulled down the pillar in his
+absence, and bade him be a wiser man.  Another figure, and a more
+interesting one, is the famous St. Goar; a Gaul, seemingly (from the
+recorded names of his parents) of noble Roman blood, who took his
+station on the Rhine, under the cliffs of that Lurlei so famous in
+legend and ballad as haunted by some fair fiend, whose treacherous
+song lured the boatmen into the whirlpool at their foot.  To rescue
+the shipwrecked boatmen, to lodge, feed, and if need be clothe, the
+travellers along the Rhine bank, was St. Goar's especial work; and
+Wandelbert, the monk of Prum, in the Eifel, who wrote his life at
+considerable length, tells us how St. Goar was accused to the
+Archbishop of Treves as a hypocrite and a glutton, because he ate
+freely with his guests; and how his calumniators took him through
+the forest to Treves; and how he performed divers miracles, both on
+the road and in the palace of the Archbishop, notably the famous one
+of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.  And
+other miracles of his there are, some of them not altogether
+edifying:  but no reader is bound to believe them, as Wandelbert is
+evidently writing in the interests of the Abbey of Prum as against
+those of the Prince-Bishops of Treves; and with a monk's or
+regular's usual jealousy of the secular or parochial clergy and
+their bishops.
+
+A more important personage than any of these is the famous St.
+Benedict, father of the Benedictine order, and "father of all
+monks," as he was afterwards called, who, beginning himself as a
+hermit, caused the hermit life to fall, not into disrepute, but into
+comparative disuse; while the coenobitic life--that is, life, not in
+separate cells, but in corporate bodies, with common property, and
+under one common rule--was accepted as the general form of the
+religious life in the West.  As the author of this organization, and
+of the Benedictine order, to whose learning, as well as to whose
+piety, the world has owed so much, his life belongs rather to a
+history of the monastic orders than to that of the early hermits.
+But it must be always remembered that it was as a hermit that his
+genius was trained; that in solitude he conceived his vast plans; in
+solitude he elaborated the really wise and noble rules of his, which
+he afterwards carried out as far as he could during his lifetime in
+the busy world; and which endured for centuries, a solid piece of
+practical good work.  For the existence of monks was an admitted
+fact; even an admitted necessity:  St. Benedict's work was to tell
+them, if they chose to be monks, what sort of persons they ought to
+be, and how they ought to live, in order to fulfil their own ideal.
+In the solitude of the hills of Subiaco, above the ruined palace of
+Nero, above, too, the town of Nurscia, of whose lords he was the
+last remaining scion, he fled to the mountain grotto, to live the
+outward life of a wild beast, and, as he conceived, the inward life
+of an angel.  How he founded twelve monasteries; how he fled with
+some of his younger disciples, to withdraw them from the disgusting
+persecutions and temptations of the neighbouring secular clergy; how
+he settled himself on the still famous Monte Cassino, which looks
+down upon the Gulf of Gaeta, and founded there the "Archi-
+Monasterium of Europe," whose abbot was in due time first premier
+baron of the kingdom of Naples,--which counted among its
+dependencies {245} four bishoprics, two principalities, twenty
+earldoms, two hundred and fifty castles, four hundred and forty
+towns or villages, three hundred and thirty-six manors, twenty-three
+seaports, three isles, two hundred mills, three hundred territories,
+sixteen hundred and sixty-two churches, and at the end of the
+sixteenth century an annual revenue of 1,500,000 ducats,--are
+matters which hardly belong to this volume, which deals merely with
+the lives of hermits.
+
+
+
+THE CELTIC HERMITS
+
+
+
+It is not necessary to enter into the vexed question whether any
+Christianity ever existed in these islands of an earlier and purer
+type than that which was professed and practised by the saintly
+disciples of St. Antony.  It is at least certain that the earliest
+historic figures which emerge from the haze of barbarous antiquity
+in both the Britains and in Ireland, are those of hermits, who, in
+celibacy and poverty, gather round them disciples, found a convent,
+convert and baptize the heathen, and often, like Antony and
+Hilarion, escape from the bustle and toil of the world into their
+beloved desert.  They work the same miracles, see the same visions,
+and live in the same intimacy with the wild animals, as the hermits
+of Egypt, or of Roman Gaul:  but their history, owing to the wild
+imagination and (as the legends themselves prove) the gross
+barbarism of the tribes among whom they dwell, are so involved in
+fable and legend, that it is all but impossible to separate fact
+from fiction; all but impossible, often, to fix the time at which
+they lived.
+
+Their mode of life, it must always be remembered, is said to be
+copied from that of the Roman hermits of Gaul.  St. Patrick, the
+apostle of Ireland, seems to have been of Roman or Roman British
+lineage.  In his famous "Confession" (which many learned antiquaries
+consider as genuine) he calls his father, Calphurnius a deacon; his
+grandfather, Potitus a priest--both of these names being Roman.  He
+is said to have visited, at some period of his life, the monastery
+of St. Martin at Tours; to have studied with St. Germanus at
+Auxerre; and to have gone to one of the islands of the Tuscan sea,
+probably Lerins itself; and, whether or not we believe the story
+that he was consecrated bishop by Pope Celestine at Rome, we can
+hardly doubt that he was a member of that great spiritual succession
+of ascetics who counted St. Antony as their father.
+
+Such another must that Palladius have been, who was sent, says
+Prosper of Aquitaine, by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish Scots,
+and who (according to another story) was cast on shore on the north-
+east coast of Scotland, founded the church of Fordun, in
+Kincardineshire, and became a great saint among the Pictish folk.
+
+Another primaeval figure, almost as shadowy as St. Patrick, is St.
+Ninian, a monk of North Wales, who (according to Bede) first
+attempted the conversion of the Southern Picts, and built himself,
+at Whithorn in Galloway, the Candida Casa, or White House, a little
+church of stone,--a wonder in those days of "creel houses" and
+wooden stockades.  He too, according to Bede, who lived some 250
+years after his time, went to Rome; and he is said to have visited
+and corresponded with St. Martin of Tours.
+
+Dubricius, again, whom legend makes the contemporary both of St.
+Patrick and of King Arthur, appears in Wales, as bishop and abbot of
+Llandaff.  He too is ordained by a Roman bishop, St. Germanus of
+Auxerre; and he too ends his career, according to tradition, as a
+hermit, while his disciples spread away into Armorica (Brittany) and
+Ireland.
+
+We need not, therefore, be surprised to find Ireland, Wales,
+Cornwall, Scotland, and Brittany, during the next three centuries,
+swarming with saints, who kept up, whether in company or alone, the
+old hermit-life of the Thebaid; or to find them wandering, whether
+on missionary work, or in search of solitude, or escaping, like St.
+Cadoc the Wise, from the Saxon invaders.  Their frequent journeys to
+Rome, and even to Jerusalem, may perhaps be set down as a fable,
+invented in after years by monks who were anxious to prove their
+complete dependence on the Holy See, and their perfect communion
+with the older and more civilized Christianity of the Roman Empire.
+
+It is probable enough, also, that Romans from Gaul, as well as from
+Britain, often men of rank and education, who had fled before the
+invading Goths and Franks, and had devoted themselves (as we have
+seen that they often did) to the monastic life, should have escaped
+into those parts of these islands which had not already fallen into
+the hands of the Saxon invaders.  Ireland, as the most remote
+situation, would be especially inviting to the fugitives; and we can
+thus understand the story which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus,
+how fifty monks, "Romans born," sailed to Ireland to learn the
+Scriptures, and to lead a stricter life; and were distributed
+between St. Senan, St. Finnian, St. Brendan, St. Barry, and St.
+Kieran.  By such immigrations as this, it may be, Ireland became--as
+she certainly was for a while--the refuge of what ecclesiastical
+civilization, learning, and art the barbarian invaders had spared; a
+sanctuary from whence, in after centuries, evangelists and teachers
+went forth once more, not only to Scotland and England, but to
+France and Germany.  Very fantastic, and often very beautiful, are
+the stories of these men; and sometimes tragical enough, like that
+of the Welsh St. Iltut, cousin of the mythic Arthur, and founder of
+the great monastery of Bangor, on the banks of the Dee, which was
+said--though we are not bound to believe the fact--to have held more
+than two thousand monks at the time of the Saxon invasion.  The wild
+warrior was converted, says this legend, by seeing the earth open
+and swallow up his comrades, who had extorted bread, beer, and a fat
+pig from St. Cadoc of Llancarvan, a princely hermit and abbot, who
+had persuaded his father and mother to embrace the hermit life as
+the regular, if not the only, way of saving their souls.  In a
+paroxysm of terror he fled from his fair young wife into the forest;
+would not allow her to share with him even his hut of branches; and
+devoted himself to the labour of making an immense dyke of mud and
+stones to keep out the inundations of a neighbouring river.  His
+poor wife went in search of him once more, and found him in the
+bottom of a dyke, no longer a gay knight, but poorly dressed, and
+covered with mud.  She went away, and never saw him more; "fearing
+to displease God and one so beloved by God."  Iltut dwelt afterwards
+for four years in a cave, sleeping on the bare rock, and seems at
+last to have crossed over to Brittany, and died at Dol.
+
+We must not forget--though he is not strictly a hermit--St. David,
+the popular saint of the Welsh, son of a nephew of the mythic
+Arthur, and educated by one Paulinus, a disciple, it is said, of St.
+Germanus of Auxerre.  He is at once monk and bishop:  he gathers
+round him young monks in the wilderness, makes them till the ground,
+drawing the plough by their own strength, for he allows them not to
+own even an ox.  He does battle against "satraps" and "magicians"--
+probably heathen chieftains and Druids; he goes to the Holy Land,
+and is made archbishop by the Patriarch of Jerusalem:  he
+introduces, it would seem, into this island the right of sanctuary
+for criminals in any field consecrated to himself.  He restores the
+church of Glastonbury over the tomb of his cousin, King Arthur, and
+dies at 100 years of age, "the head of the whole British nation, and
+honour of his fatherland."  He is buried in one of his own
+monasteries at St. David's, near the headland whence St. Patrick had
+seen, in a vision, all Ireland stretched out before him, waiting to
+be converted to Christ; and the Celtic people go on pilgrimage to
+his tomb, even from Brittany and Ireland:  and, canonized in 1120,
+he becomes the patron saint of Wales.
+
+From that same point, in what year is not said, an old monk of St.
+David's monastery, named Modonnoc, set sail for Ireland, after a
+long life of labour and virtue.  A swarm of bees settled upon the
+bow of his boat, and would not be driven away.  He took them,
+whether he would or not, with him into Ireland, and introduced
+there, says the legend, the culture of bees and the use of honey.
+
+Ireland was then the "Isle of Saints."  Three orders of them were
+counted by later historians:  the bishops (who seem not to have had
+necessarily territorial dioceses), with St. Patrick at their head,
+shining like the sun; the second, of priests, under St. Columba,
+shining like the moon; and the third, of bishops, priests, and
+hermits, under Colman and Aidan, shining like the stars.  Their
+legends, full of Irish poetry and tenderness, and not without
+touches here and there of genuine Irish humour, lie buried now, to
+all save antiquaries, in the folios of the Bollandists and Colgan:
+but the memory of their virtue and beneficence, as well as of their
+miracles, shadowy and distorted by the lapse of centuries, is rooted
+in the heart and brain of the Irish peasantry; and who shall say
+altogether for evil?  For with the tradition of their miracles has
+been entwined the tradition of their virtues, as an enduring
+heirloom for the whole Irish race, through the sad centuries which
+part the era of saints from the present time.  We see the Irish
+women kneeling beside some well, whose waters were hallowed, ages
+since, by the fancied miracle of some mythic saint, and hanging
+gaudy rags (just as do the half savage Buddhists of the Himalayas)
+upon the bushes round.  We see them upon holy days crawling on bare
+and bleeding knees around St. Patrick's cell, on the top of Croagh
+Patrick, the grandest mountain, perhaps, with the grandest outlook,
+in these British Isles, where stands still, I believe, an ancient
+wooden image, said to have belonged to St. Patrick himself; and
+where, too, hung till late years (it is now preserved in Dublin) an
+ancient bell; such a strange little oblong bell as the Irish saints
+carried with them to keep off daemons; one of those magic bells
+which appear, so far as I am aware, in no country save Ireland and
+Scotland till we come to Tartary and the Buddhists:  such a bell as
+came down from heaven to St. Senan:  such a bell as St. Fursey sent
+flying through the air to greet St. Cuandy at his devotions when he
+could not come himself:  such a bell as another saint, wandering in
+the woods, rang till a stag came out of the covert, and carried it
+for him on his horns.  On that peak, so legends tell, St. Patrick
+stood once, in the spirit and power of Elias--after whom the
+mountain was long named; fasting, like Elias, forty days and forty
+nights, and wrestling with the daemons of the storm, and the snakes
+of the fen, and the Peishta-More, the gigantic monster of the lakes,
+till he smote the evil things with the golden rod of Jesus, and they
+rolled over the cliff in hideous rout, and perished in the Atlantic
+far below.  We know that these tales are but the dreams of children:
+but shall we sneer at the devotion of those poor Irish?  Not if we
+remember (what is an undoubted fact) that the memory of these same
+saints has kept up in their minds an ideal of nobleness and purity,
+devotion and beneficence, which, down-trodden slaves as they have
+been, they would otherwise have inevitably lost; that it has helped
+to preserve them from mere brutality, and mere ferocity; and that
+the thought that these men were of their own race and their own kin
+has given them a pride in their own race, a sense of national unity
+and of national dignity, which has endured--and surely for their
+benefit, for reverence for ancestors and the self-respect which
+springs from it is a benefit to every human being--through all the
+miseries, deserved or undeserved, which have fallen upon the Irish
+since Pope Adrian IV. (the true author of all the woes of Ireland),
+in the year 1155, commissioned Henry II. to conquer Ireland and
+destroy its primaeval Church, on consideration of receiving his
+share of the booty in the shape of Peter's Pence.
+
+Among these Irish saints, two names stand out as especially
+interesting:  that of St. Brendan, and that of St. Columba--the
+former as the representative of the sailor monks of the early
+period, the other as the great missionary who, leaving his monastery
+at Durrow, in Ireland, for the famous island of Hy, Iona, or
+Icolumbkill, off the western point of Mull, became the apostle of
+Scotland and the north of England.  I shall first speak of St.
+Brendan, and at some length.  His name has become lately familiar to
+many, through the medium of two very beautiful poems, one by Mr.
+Matthew Arnold, and the other by Mr. Sebastian Evans; and it may
+interest those who have read their versions of the story to see the
+oldest form in which the story now exists.
+
+The Celts, it must be remembered, are not, in general, a sea-going
+folk.  They have always neglected the rich fisheries of their
+coasts; and in Ireland every seaport owes its existence, not to the
+natives, but to Norse colonists.  Even now, the Irishman or Western
+Highlander, who emigrates to escape the "Saxons," sails in a ship
+built and manned by those very "Saxons," to lands which the Saxons
+have discovered and civilized.  But in the seventh and eighth
+centuries, and perhaps earlier, many Celts were voyagers and
+emigrants, not to discover new worlds, but to flee from the old one.
+There were deserts in the sea, as well as on land; in them they
+hoped to escape from men, and, yet more, from women.
+
+They went against their carnal will.  They had no liking for the
+salt water.  They were horribly frightened, and often wept bitterly,
+as they themselves confess.  And they had reason for fear; for their
+vessels were, for the most part, only "curachs" (coracles) of
+wattled twigs, covered with tanned hides.  They needed continual
+exhortation and comfort from the holy man who was their captain; and
+needed often miracles likewise for their preservation.  Tempests had
+to be changed into calm, and contrary winds into fair ones, by the
+prayers of a saint; and the spirit of prophecy was needed, to
+predict that a whale would be met between Iona and Tiree, who
+appeared accordingly, to the extreme terror of St. Berach's crew,
+swimming with open jaws, and (intent on eating, not monks, but
+herrings) nearly upsetting them by the swell which he raised.  And
+when St. Baithenius met the same whale on the same day, it was
+necessary for him to rise, and bless, with outspread hands, the sea
+and the whale, in order to make him sink again, after having risen
+to breathe.  But they sailed forth, nevertheless, not knowing
+whither they went; true to their great principle, that the spirit
+must conquer the flesh:  and so showed themselves actually braver
+men than the Norse pirates, who sailed afterwards over the same seas
+without fear, and without the need of miracles, and who found
+everywhere on desert islands, on sea-washed stacks and skerries,
+round Orkney, Shetland, and the Faroes, even to Iceland, the cells
+of these "Papas" or Popes; and named them after the old hermits,
+whose memory still lingers in the names of Papa Strona and Papa
+Westra, in the Orkneys, and in that of Papey, off the coast of
+Iceland, where the first Norse settlers found Irish books, bells,
+and crosiers, the relics of old hermits who had long since fasted
+and prayed their last, and migrated to the Lord.
+
+Adanman, in his life of St. Columba, tells of more than one such
+voyage.  He tells how one Baitanus, with the saint's blessing,
+sailed forth to find "a desert" in the sea; and how when he was
+gone, the saint prophesied that he should be buried, not in a desert
+isle, but where a woman should drive sheep over his grave, the which
+came true in the oak-wood of Calgaich, now Londonderry, whither he
+came back again.  He tells, again, of one Cormac, "a knight of
+Christ," who three times sailed forth in a coracle to find some
+desert isle, and three times failed of his purpose; and how, in his
+last voyage, he was driven northward by the wind fourteen days'
+sail, till he came where the summer sea was full of foul little
+stinging creatures, of the size of frogs, which beat against the
+sides of the frail boat, till all expected them to be stove in.
+They clung, moreover, to the oar blades; {256} and Cormac was in
+some danger of never seeing land again, had not St. Columba, at home
+in Iona far away, seen him in a vision, him and his fellows, praying
+and "watering their cheeks with floods of tears," in the midst of
+"perturbations monstrous, horrific, never seen before, and almost
+unspeakable."  Calling together his monks, he bade them pray for a
+north wind, which came accordingly, and blew Cormac safe back to
+Iona, to tempt the waves no more.  "Let the reader therefore perpend
+how great and what manner of man this same blessed personage was,
+who, having so great prophetic knowledge, could command, by invoking
+the name of Christ, the winds and ocean."
+
+Even as late as the year 891, says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:
+"Three Scots came to King Alfred, in a boat without any oars, from
+Ireland, whence they had stolen away, because for the love of God
+they desired to be on pilgrimage, they recked not where.  The boat
+in which they came was made of two hides and a half; and they took
+with them provisions for seven days; and about the seventh day they
+came on shore in Cornwall, and soon after went to King Alfred.  Thus
+they were named, Dubslane, and Macbeth, and Maelinmun."
+
+Out of such wild feats as these; out of dim reports of fairy islands
+in the west; of the Canaries and Azores; of that Vinland, with its
+wild corn and wild grapes which Leif, the son of Eirek Rauda, had
+found beyond the ocean a thousand years and one after the birth of
+Christ; of icebergs and floes sailing in the far northern sea, upon
+the edge of the six-months' night; out of Edda stories of the
+Midgard snake, which is coiled round the world; out of reports, it
+may be, of Indian fakirs and Buddhist shamans; out of scraps of
+Greek and Arab myth, from the Odyssey or the Arabian Nights, brought
+home by "Jorsala Farar," vikings who had been for pilgrimage and
+plunder up the Straits of Gibraltar into the far East;--out of all
+these materials were made up, as years rolled on, the famous legend
+of St. Brendan and his seven years' voyage in search of the "land
+promised to the saints."
+
+This tale was so popular in the middle age, that it appears, in
+different shapes, in almost every early European language. {257}  It
+was not only the delight of monks, but it stirred up to wild voyages
+many a secular man in search of St. Brendan's Isle, "which is not
+found when it is sought," but was said to be visible at times, from
+Palma in the Canaries.  The myth must have been well known to
+Columbus, and may have helped to send him forth in search of
+"Cathay."  Thither (so the Spanish peasants believed) Don Roderic
+had retired from the Moorish invaders.  There (so the Portuguese
+fancied) King Sebastian was hidden from men, after his reported
+death in the battle of Alcazar.  The West Indies, when they were
+first seen, were surely St. Brendan's Isle:  and the Mississippi may
+have been, in the eyes of such old adventurers as Don Ferdinando da
+Soto, when he sought for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, the very
+river which St. Brendan found parting in two the Land of Promise.
+From the year 1526 (says M. Jubinal), till as late as 1721,
+armaments went forth from time to time into the Atlantic, and went
+forth in vain.
+
+For the whole tale, from whatever dim reports of fact they may have
+sprung, is truly (as M. Jubinal calls it) a monkish Odyssey, and
+nothing more.  It is a dream of the hermit's cell.  No woman, no
+city, nor nation, are ever seen during the seven years' voyage.
+Ideal monasteries and ideal hermits people the "deserts of the
+ocean."  All beings therein (save daemons and Cyclops) are
+Christians, even to the very birds, and keep the festivals of the
+Church as eternal laws of nature.  The voyage succeeds, not by
+seamanship, or geographic knowledge, nor even by chance:  but by the
+miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he meets; and
+the wanderings of Ulysses, or of Sinbad, are rational and human in
+comparison with those of St. Brendan.
+
+Yet there are in them, as was to be expected, elements in which the
+Greek or the Arab legends are altogether deficient; perfect
+innocence, patience, and justice; utter faith in a God who prospers
+the innocent and punishes the guilty; ennobling obedience to the
+saint, who stands out a truly heroic figure above his trembling
+crew; and even more valuable still, the belief in, the craving for,
+an ideal, even though that ideal be that of a mere earthly Paradise;
+the "divine discontent," as it has been well called, which is the
+root of all true progress; which leaves (thank God) no man at peace
+save him who has said, "Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die."
+
+And therefore I have written at some length the story of St.
+Brendan; because, though it be but a monk-ideal, it is an ideal
+still:  and therefore profitable for all who are not content with
+this world, and its paltry ways.
+
+Saint Brendan, we read, the son of Finnloga, and great grandson of
+Alta, son of Ogaman, of the race of Ciar son of Fergus, was born at
+Tralee, and founded, in 559, the Abbey of Clonfert, {260a} and was a
+man famous for his great abstinence and virtues, and the father of
+nearly 3,000 monks. {260b}  And while he was "in his warfare," there
+came to him one evening a holy hermit named "Barintus," of the royal
+race of Neill; and when he was questioned, he did nought but cast
+himself on the ground, and weep and pray.  And when St. Brendan
+asked him to make better cheer for him and his monks, he told him a
+strange tale.  How a nephew of his had fled away to be a solitary,
+and found a delicious island, and established a monastery therein;
+and how he himself had gone to see his nephew, and sailed with him
+to the eastward to an island, which was called "the land of promise
+of the saints," wide and grassy, and bearing all manner of fruits;
+wherein was no night, for the Lord Jesus Christ was the light
+thereof; and how they abode there for a long while without eating
+and drinking; and when they returned to his nephew's monastery, the
+brethren knew well where they had been, for the fragrance of
+Paradise lingered on their garments for nearly forty days.
+
+So Barintus told his story, and went back to his cell.  But St.
+Brendan called together his most loving fellow-warriors, as he
+called them, and told them how he had set his heart on seeking that
+Promised Land.  And he went up to the top of the hill in Kerry,
+which is still called Mount Brendan, with fourteen chosen monks; and
+there, at the utmost corner of the world, he built him a coracle of
+wattle, and covered it with hides tanned in oak-bark and softened
+with butter, and set up in it a mast and a sail, and took forty
+days' provision, and commanded his monks to enter the boat, in the
+name of the Holy Trinity.  And as he stood alone, praying on the
+shore, three more monks from his monastery came up, and fell at his
+feet, and begged to go too, or they would die in that place of
+hunger and thirst; for they were determined to wander with him all
+the days of their life.  So he gave them leave.  But two of them, he
+prophesied, would come to harm and to judgment.  So they sailed away
+toward the summer solstice, with a fair wind, and had no need to
+row.  But after twelve days the wind fell to a calm, and they had
+only light airs at night, till forty days were past, and all their
+victual spent.  Then they saw toward the north a lofty island,
+walled round with cliffs, and went about it three days ere they
+could find a harbour.  And when they landed, a dog came fawning on
+them, and they followed it up to a great hall with beds and seats,
+and water to wash their feet.  But St. Brendan said, "Beware, lest
+Satan bring you into temptation.  For I see him busy with one of
+those three who followed us."  Now the hall was hung all round with
+vessels of divers metals, and bits and horns overlaid with silver.
+Then St. Brendan told his servant to bring the meal which God had
+prepared; and at once a table was laid with napkins, and loaves
+wondrous white, and fishes.  Then they blessed God, and ate, and
+took likewise drink as much as they would, and lay down to sleep.
+Then St. Brendan saw the devil's work; namely, a little black boy
+holding a silver bit, and calling the brother aforementioned.  So
+they rested three days and three nights.  But when they went to the
+ship, St. Brendan charged them with theft, and told what was stolen,
+and who had stolen it.  Then the brother cast out of his bosom a
+silver bit, and prayed for mercy.  And when he was forgiven and
+raised up from the ground, behold, a little black boy flew out of
+his bosom, howling aloud, and crying, "Why, O man of God, dost thou
+drive me from my habitation, where I have dwelt for seven years?"
+
+Then the brother received the Holy Eucharist, and died straightway,
+and was buried in that isle, and the brethren saw the angels carry
+his soul aloft, for St. Brendan had told him that so it should be:
+but that the brother who came with him should have his sepulchre in
+hell.  And as they went on board, a youth met them with a basket of
+loaves and a bottle of water, and told them that it would not fail
+till Pentecost.
+
+Then they sailed again many days, till they came to an isle full of
+great streams and fountains swarming with fish; and sheep there all
+white, as big as oxen, so many that they hid the face of the earth.
+And they stayed there till Easter Eve, and took one of the sheep
+(which followed them as if it had been tame) to eat for the Paschal
+feast.  Then came a man with loaves baked in the ashes, and other
+victual, and fell down before St. Brendan and cried, "How have I
+merited this, O pearl of God, that thou shouldest be fed at this
+holy tide from the labours of my hand?"
+
+And they learned from that man that the sheep grew there so big
+because they were never milked, nor pinched with winter, but they
+fed in those pastures all the year round.  Moreover, he told them
+that they must keep Easter in an isle hard by, opposite a shore to
+the west, which some called the Paradise of Birds.
+
+So to the nearest island they sailed.  It had no harbour, nor sandy
+shore, and there was no turf on it, and very little wood.  Now the
+Saint knew what manner of isle it was, but he would not tell the
+brethren, lest they should be terrified.  So he bade them make the
+boat fast stem and stern, and when morning came he bade those who
+were priests to celebrate each a mass, and then to take the lamb's
+fleece on shore and cook it in the caldron with salt, while St.
+Brendan remained in the boat.
+
+But when the fire blazed up, and the pot began to boil, that island
+began to move like water.  Then the brethren ran to the boat
+imploring St. Brendan's aid; and he helped them each in by the hand,
+and cast off.  After which the island sank in the ocean.  And when
+they could see their fire burning more than two miles off, St.
+Brendan told them how that God had revealed to him that night the
+mystery; that this was no isle, but the biggest of all fishes which
+swam in the ocean, always it tries to make its head and its tail
+meet, but cannot, by reason of its length; and its name is
+Jasconius.
+
+Then, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, very grassy and
+wooded, and full of flowers.  And they found a little stream, and
+towed the boat up it (for the stream was of the same width as the
+boat), with St. Brendan sitting on board, till they came to the
+fountain thereof.  Then said the holy father, "See, brethren, the
+Lord has given us a place wherein to celebrate his holy
+Resurrection.  And if we had nought else, this fountain, I think,
+would serve for food as well as drink."  For the fountain was too
+admirable.  Over it was a huge tree of wonderful breadth, but no
+great height, covered with snow-white birds, so that its leaves and
+boughs could scarce be seen.
+
+And when the man of God saw that, he was so desirous to know the
+cause of that assemblage of birds, that he besought God upon his
+knees, with tears, saying, "God, who knowest the unknown, and
+revealest the hidden, thou knowest the anxiety of my heart. . . .
+Deign of thy great mercy to reveal to me thy secret. . . .  But not
+for the merit of my own dignity, but regarding thy clemency, do I
+presume to ask."
+
+Then one of those birds flew from off the tree, and his wings
+sounded like bells over the boat.  And he sat on the prow, and
+spread his wings joyfully, and looked quietly on St. Brendan.  And
+when the man of God questioned that bird, it told how they were of
+the spirits which fell in the great ruin of the old enemy; not by
+sin or by consent, but predestined by the piety of God to fall with
+those with whom they were created.  But they suffered no punishment;
+only they could not, in part, behold the presence of God.  They
+wandered about this world, like other spirits of the air, and
+firmament, and earth.  But on holy days they took those shapes of
+birds, and praised their Creator in that place.
+
+Then the bird told him, how he and his monks had wandered one year
+already, and should wander for six more; and every year should
+celebrate their Easter in that place, and after find the Land of
+Promise; and so flew back to its tree.
+
+And when the eventide was come, the birds began all with one voice
+to sing, and clap their wings, crying, "Thou, O God, art praised in
+Zion, and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem."  And
+always they repeated that verse for an hour, and their melody and
+the clapping of their wings was like music which drew tears by its
+sweetness.
+
+And when the man of God wakened his monks at the third watch of the
+night with the verse, "Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord," all the
+birds answered, "Praise the Lord, all his angels; praise him, all
+his virtues."  And when the dawn shone, they sang again, "The
+splendour of the Lord God is over us;" and at the third hour, "Sing
+psalms to our God, sing; sing to our King, sing with wisdom."  And
+at the sixth, "The Lord hath lifted up the light of his countenance
+upon us, and had mercy on us."  And at the ninth, "Behold how good
+and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in unity."  So day and
+night those birds gave praise to God.  St. Brendan, therefore,
+seeing these things, gave thanks to God for all his marvels, and the
+brethren were refreshed with that spiritual food till the octave of
+Easter.
+
+After which, St. Brendan advised to take of the water of the
+fountain; for till then they had only used it to wash their feet and
+hands.  But there came to him the same man who had been with them
+three days before Easter, and with his boat full of meat and drink,
+and said, "My brothers, here you have enough to last till Pentecost:
+but do not drink of that fountain.  For its nature is, that
+whosoever drinks will sleep for four-and-twenty hours."  So they
+stayed till Pentecost, and rejoiced in the song of the birds.  And
+after mass at Pentecost, the man brought them food again, and bade
+them take of the water of the fountain and depart.  Then the birds
+came again, and sat upon the prow, and told them how they must,
+every year, celebrate Easter in the Isle of Birds, and Easter Eve
+upon the back of the fish Jasconius; and how, after eight months,
+they should come to the isle called Ailbey, and keep their Christmas
+there.
+
+After which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of sight of
+land, and only eating after every two or three days, till they came
+to an island, along which they sailed for forty days, and found no
+harbour.  Then they wept and prayed, for they were almost worn out
+with weariness; and after they had fasted and prayed for three days,
+they saw a narrow harbour, and two fountains, one foul, one clear.
+But when the brethren hurried to draw water, St. Brendan (as he had
+done once before) forbade them, saying that they must take nought
+without leave from the elders who were in that isle.
+
+And of the wonders which they saw in that isle it were too long to
+tell:  how there met them an exceeding old man, with snow-white
+hair, who fell at St. Brendan's feet three times, and led him in
+silence up to a monastery of four-and-twenty silent monks, who
+washed their feet, and fed them with bread and water, and roots of
+wonderful sweetness; and then at last, opening his mouth, told them
+how that bread was sent them perpetually, they knew not from whence;
+and how they had been there eighty years, since the times of St.
+Patrick, and how their father Ailbey and Christ had nourished them;
+and how they grew no older, nor ever fell sick, nor were overcome by
+cold or heat; and how brother never spoke to brother, but all things
+were done by signs; and how he led them to a square chapel, with
+three candles before the mid-altar, and two before each of the side
+altars; and how they, and the chalices and patens, and all the other
+vessels, were of crystal; and how the candles were lighted always by
+a fiery arrow, which came in through the window, and returned; and
+how St. Brendan kept his Christmas there, and then sailed away till
+Lent, and came to a fruitful island where he found fish; and how
+when certain brethren drank too much of the charmed water they
+slept, some three days, and some one; and how they sailed north, and
+then east, till they came back to the Isle of Sheep at Easter, and
+found on the shore their caldron, which they had lost on Jasconius's
+back; and how, sailing away, they were chased by a mighty fish which
+spouted foam, but was slain by another fish which spouted fire; and
+how they took enough of its flesh to last them three months; and how
+they came to an island flat as the sea, without trees, or aught that
+waved in the wind; and how on that island were three troops of monks
+(as the holy man had foretold), standing a stone's throw from each
+other:  the first of boys, robed in snow-white; the second of young
+men, dressed in hyacinthine; the third of old men, in purple
+dalmatics, singing alternately their psalms, all day and night:  and
+how when they stopped singing, a cloud of wondrous brightness
+overshadowed the isle; and how two of the young men, ere they sailed
+away, brought baskets of grapes, and asked that one of the monks (as
+had been prophesied) should remain with them, in the Isle of Strong
+Men; and how St. Brendan let him go, saying, "In a good hour did thy
+mother conceive thee, because thou hast merited to dwell with such a
+congregation;" and how those grapes were so big, that a pound of
+juice ran out of each of them, and an ounce thereof fed each brother
+for a whole day, and was as sweet as honey; and how a magnificent
+bird dropped into the ship the bough of an unknown tree, with a
+bunch of grapes thereon; and how they came to a land where the trees
+were all bowed down with vines, and their odour as the odour of a
+house full of pomegranates; and how they fed forty days on those
+grapes, and strange herbs and roots; and how they saw flying against
+them the bird which is called gryphon; and how that bird who had
+brought the bough tore out the gryphon's eyes, and slew him; and how
+they looked down into the clear sea, and saw all the fishes sailing
+round and round, head to tail, innumerable as flocks in the
+pastures, and were terrified, and would have had the man of God
+celebrate mass in silence, lest the fish should hear, and attack
+them; and how the man of God laughed at their folly; and how they
+came to a column of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy round it
+of the colour of silver, harder than marble, and sailed in through
+an opening, and found it all light within; {269} and how they found
+in that hall a chalice of the same stuff as the canopy, and a paten
+of that of the column, and took them, that they might make many
+believe; and how they sailed out again, and past a treeless island,
+covered with slag and forges; and how a great hairy man, fiery and
+smutty, came down and shouted after them; and how when they made the
+sign of the Cross and sailed away, he and his fellows brought down
+huge lumps of burning slag in tongs, and hurled them after the ship;
+and how they went back, and blew their forges up, till the whole
+island flared, and the sea boiled, and the howling and stench
+followed them, even when they were out of sight of that evil isle;
+and how St. Brendan bade them strengthen themselves in faith and
+spiritual arms, for they were now on the confines of hell, therefore
+they must watch, and play the man.  All this must needs be hastened
+over, that we may come to the famous legend of Judas Iscariot.
+
+They saw a great and high mountain toward the north, with smoke
+about its peak.  And the wind blew them close under the cliffs,
+which were of immense height, so that they could hardly see their
+top, upright as walls, and black as coal. {270}  Then he who
+remained of the three brethren who had followed St. Brendan sprang
+out of the ship, and waded to the cliff foot, groaning, and crying,
+"Woe to me, father, for I am carried away from you; and cannot turn
+back."  Then the brethren backed the ship, and cried to the Lord for
+mercy.  But the blessed Father Brendan saw how that wretch was
+carried off by a multitude of devils, and all on fire among them.
+Then a fair wind blew them away southward; and when they looked back
+they saw the peak of the isle uncovered, and flame spouting from it
+up to heaven, and sinking back again, till the whole mountain seemed
+one burning pile.
+
+After that terrible vision they sailed seven days to the south, till
+Father Brendan saw a dense cloud; when they neared it, a form as of
+a man sitting, and before him a veil, as big as a sack, hanging
+between two iron tongs, and rocking on the waves like a boat in a
+whirlwind.  Which when the brethren saw some thought was a bird, and
+some a boat; but the man of God bade them give over arguing, and row
+thither.  And when they got near, the waves were still, as if they
+had been frozen; and they found a man sitting on a rough and
+shapeless rock, and the waves beating over his head; and when they
+fell back, the bare rock appeared on which that wretch was sitting.
+And the cloth which hung before him the wind moved, and beat him
+with it on the eyes and brow.  But when the blessed man asked him
+who he was, and how he had earned that doom, he said, "I am that
+most wretched Judas, who made the worst of all bargains.  But I hold
+not this place for any merit of my own, but for the ineffable mercy
+of Christ.  I expect no place of repentance:  but for the indulgence
+and mercy of the Redeemer of the world, and for the honour of His
+holy resurrection, I have this refreshment; for it is the Lord's-day
+now, and as I sit here I seem to myself in a paradise of delight, by
+reason of the pains which will be mine this evening; for when I am
+in my pains I burn day and night like lead melted in a pot.  But in
+the midst of that mountain which you saw, is Leviathan with his
+satellites, and I was there when he swallowed your brother; and
+therefore the king of hell rejoiced, and sent forth huge flames, as
+he doth always when he devours the souls of the impious."  Then he
+told them how he had his refreshings there every Lord's-day from
+even to even, and from Christmas to Epiphany, and from Easter to
+Pentecost, and from the Purification of the Blessed Virgin to her
+Assumption:  but the rest of his time he was tormented with Herod
+and Pilate, Annas and Caiaphas; and so adjured them to intercede for
+him with the Lord that he might be there at least till sunrise in
+the morn.  To whom the man of God said, "The will of the Lord be
+done.  Thou shalt not be carried off by the daemons till to-morrow."
+Then he asked him of that clothing, and he told how he had given it
+to a leper when he was the Lord's chamberlain; "but because it was
+no more mine than it was the Lord's and the other brethren's,
+therefore it is of no comfort to me, but rather a hurt.  And these
+forks I gave to the priests to hang their caldrons on.  And this
+stone on which I always sit I took off the road, and threw it into a
+ditch for a stepping-stone, before I was a disciple of the Lord."
+{272}
+
+But when the evening hour had covered the face of Thetis," behold a
+multitude of daemons shouting in a ring, and bidding the man of God
+depart, for else they could not approach; and they dared not behold
+their prince's face unless they brought back their prey.  But the
+man of God bade them depart.  And in the morning an infinite
+multitude of devils covered the face of the abyss, and cursed the
+man of God for coming thither; for their prince had scourged them
+cruelly that night for not bringing back the captive.  But the man
+of God returned their curses on their own heads, saying that "cursed
+was he whom they blest, and blessed he whom they cursed;" and when
+they threatened Judas with double torments because he had not come
+back, the man of God rebuked them.
+
+"Art thou, then, Lord of all," they asked, "that we should obey
+thee?"  "I am the servant," said he, "of the Lord of all; and
+whatsoever I command in his name is done; and I have no ministry
+save what he concedes to me."
+
+So they blasphemed him till he left Judas, and then returned, and
+carried off that wretched soul with great rushing and howling.
+
+After which they saw a little isle; and the holy man told them that
+now seven years were nigh past; and that in that isle they should
+soon see a hermit, named Paul the Spiritual, who had lived for sixty
+years without any corporeal food, but for thirty years before that
+he had received food from a certain beast.
+
+The isle was very small, about a furlong round; a bare rock, so
+steep that they could find no landing-place.  But at last they found
+a creek, into which they thrust the boat's bow, and then discovered
+a very difficult ascent.  Up that the man of God climbed, bidding
+them wait for him, for they must not enter the isle without the
+hermit's leave; and when he came to the top he saw two caves, with
+their mouths opposite each other, and a very small round well before
+the cave mouth, whose waters, as fast as they ran out, were sucked
+in again by the rock. {274}  As he went to one entrance, the old man
+came out of the other, saying, "Behold how good and pleasant it is,
+brethren, to dwell together in unity," and bade him call up the
+brethren from the boat; and when they came, he kissed them, and
+called them each by his name.  Whereat they marvelled, not only at
+his spirit of prophecy, but also at his attire; for he was all
+covered with his locks and beard, and with the other hair of his
+body, down to his feet.  His hair was white as snow for age, and
+none other covering had he.  When St. Brendan saw that, he sighed
+again and again, and said within himself, "Woe is me, sinner that I
+am, who wear a monk's habit, and have many monks under me, when I
+see a man of angelic dignity sitting in a cell, still in the flesh,
+and unhurt by the vices of the flesh."  To whom the man of God
+answered, "Venerable father, what great and many wonders God hath
+showed thee, which he hath manifested to none of the fathers, and
+thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not worthy to wear a monk's
+habit.  I tell thee, father, that thou art greater than a monk; for
+a monk is fed and clothed by the work of his own hands:  but God has
+fed and clothed thee and thy family for seven years with his secret
+things, while wretched I sit here on this rock like a bird, naked
+save the hair of my body."
+
+Then St. Brendan asked him how and whence he came thither; and he
+told how he was nourished in St. Patrick's monastery for fifty
+years, and took care of the cemetery; and how when the dean had
+bidden him dig a grave, an old man, whom he knew not, appeared to
+him, and forbade him, for that grave was another man's.  And how he
+revealed to him that he was St. Patrick, his own abbot, who had died
+the day before, and bade him bury that brother elsewhere, and go
+down to the sea and find a boat, which would take him to the place
+where he should wait for the day of his death; and how he landed on
+that rock, and thrust the boat off with his foot, and it went
+swiftly back to its own land; and how, on the very first day, a
+beast came to him, walking on its hind paws, and between its fore
+paws a fish, and grass to make a fire, and laid them at his feet;
+and so every third day for twenty years; and every Lord's day a
+little water came out of the rock, so that he could drink and wash
+his hands; and how after thirty years he had found these caves and
+that fountain, and had fed for the last sixty years on nought but
+the water thereof.  For all the years of his life were 150, and
+henceforth he awaited the day of his judgment in that his flesh.
+
+Then they took of that water, and received his blessing, and kissed
+each other in the peace of Christ, and sailed southward:  but their
+food was the water from the isle of the man of God.  Then (as Paul
+the Hermit had foretold) they came back on Easter Eve to the Isle of
+Sheep, and to him who used to give them victuals; and then went on
+to the fish Jasconius, and sang praises on his back all night, and
+mass at morn.  After which the fish carried them on his back to the
+Paradise of Birds, and there they stayed till Pentecost.  Then the
+man who always tended them, bade them fill their skins from the
+fountain, and he would lead them to the land promised to the saints.
+And all the birds wished them a prosperous voyage in God's name; and
+they sailed away, with forty days' provision, the man being their
+guide, till after forty days they came at evening to a great
+darkness which lay round the Promised Land.  But after they had
+sailed through it for an hour, a great light shone round them, and
+the boat stopped at a shore.  And when they landed they saw a
+spacious land, full of trees bearing fruit as in autumn time.  And
+they walked about that land for forty days, eating of the fruit and
+drinking of the fountains, and found no end thereof.  And there was
+no night there, but the light shone like the light of the sun.  At
+last they came to a great river, which they could not cross, so that
+they could not find out the extent of that land.  And as they were
+pondering over this, a youth, with shining face and fair to look
+upon, met them, and kissed them with great joy, calling them each by
+his name, and said, "Brethren, peace be with you, and with all that
+follow the peace of Christ."  And after that, "Blessed are they who
+dwell in thy house, O Lord; they shall be for ever praising thee."
+
+Then he told St. Brendan that that was the land which he had been
+seeking for seven years, and that he must now return to his own
+country, taking of the fruits of that land, and of its precious
+gems, as much as his ship could carry; for the days of his departure
+were at hand, when he should sleep in peace with his holy brethren.
+But after many days that land should be revealed to his successors,
+and should be a refuge for Christians in persecution.  As for the
+river that they saw, it parted that island; and the light shone
+there for ever, because Christ was the light thereof.
+
+Then St. Brendan asked if that land would ever be revealed to men:
+and the youth answered, that when the most high Creator should have
+put all nations under his feet, then that land should be manifested
+to all his elect.
+
+After which St. Brendan, when the youth had blessed him, took of the
+fruits and of the gems, and sailed back through the darkness, and
+returned to his monastery; whom when the brethren saw, they
+glorified God for the miracles which he had heard and seen.  After
+which he ended his life in peace.  Amen.
+
+Here ends (says the French version) concerning St. Brendan, and the
+marvels which he found in the sea of Ireland.
+
+
+
+ST. MALO
+
+
+
+Intermingled, fantastically and inconsistently, with the story of
+St. Brendan, is that of St. Maclovius or Machutus, who has given his
+name to the seaport of St. Malo, in Brittany.  His life, written by
+Sigebert, a monk of Gembloux, about the year 1100, tells us how he
+was a Breton, who sailed with St. Brendan in search of the fairest
+of all islands, in which the citizens of heaven were said to dwell.
+With St. Brendan St. Malo celebrated Easter on the whale's back, and
+with St. Brendan he returned.  But another old hagiographer,
+Johannes a Bosco, tells a different story, making St. Malo an
+Irishman brought up by St. Brendan, and preserved by his prayers
+from a wave of the sea.  He gives, moreover, to the Isle of Paradise
+the name of Inga, and says that St. Brendan and his companions never
+reached it after all, but came home after sailing round the Orkneys
+and other Northern isles.  The fact is, that the same saints
+reappear so often on both sides of the British and the Irish
+Channels, that we must take the existence of many of them as mere
+legend, which has been carried from land to land by monks in their
+migrations, and taken root upon each fresh soil which it has
+reached.  One incident in St. Malo's voyage is so fantastic, and so
+grand likewise, that it must not be omitted.  The monks come to an
+island whereon they find the barrow of some giant of old time.  St.
+Malo, seized with pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the
+mound and raises the dead to life.  Then follows a strange
+conversation between the giant and the saint.  He was slain, he
+says, by his kinsmen, and ever since has been tormented in the other
+world.  In that nether pit they know (he says) of the Holy Trinity:
+but that knowledge is rather harm than gain to them, because they
+did not choose to know it when alive on earth.  Therefore he begs to
+be baptized, and so delivered from his pain.  He is therefore
+instructed, catechised, and in due time baptized, and admitted to
+the Holy Communion.  For fifteen days more he remains alive:  and
+then, dying once more, is again placed in his sepulchre, and left in
+peace.
+
+From fragmentary recollections of such tales as these (it may be
+observed in passing) may have sprung the strange fancy of the modern
+Cornishmen, which identifies these very Celtic saints of their own
+race with the giants who, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth,
+inhabited the land before Brutus and his Trojans founded the
+Arthuric dynasty.  St. Just, for instance, who is one of the
+guardian saints of the Land's End, and St. Kevern, one of the
+guardian saints of the Lizard, are both giants; and Cornishmen a few
+years since would tell how St. Just came from his hermitage by Cape
+Cornwall to visit St. Kevern in his cave on the east side of
+Goonhilly Downs; and how they took the Holy Communion together; and
+how St. Just, tempted by the beauty of St. Kevern's paten and
+chalice, arose in the night and fled away with the holy vessels,
+wading first the Looe Pool, and then Mount's Bay itself; and how St.
+Kevern pursued him, and hurled after him three great boulders of
+porphyry, two of which lie on the slates and granites to this day;
+till St. Just, terrified at the might of his saintly brother, tossed
+the stolen vessels ashore opposite St. Michael's Mount, and, fleeing
+back to his own hermitage, never appeared again in the neighbourhood
+of St. Kevern.
+
+But to return.  St. Malo, coming home with St. Brendan, craves for
+peace, and solitude, and the hermit's cell, and goes down to the
+sea-shore, to find a vessel which may carry him out once more into
+the infinite unknown.  Then there comes by a boat with no one in it
+but a little boy, who takes him on board, and carries him to the
+isle of the hermit Aaron, near the town of Aletha, which men call
+St. Malo now; and then the little boy vanishes away, and St. Malo
+knows that he was Christ himself.  There he lives with Aaron, till
+the Bretons of the neighbourhood make him their bishop.  He converts
+the idolaters around, and performs the usual miracles of hermit
+saints.  He changes water into wine, and restores to life not only a
+dead man, but a dead sow likewise, over whose motherless litter a
+wretched slave, who has by accident killed the sow with a stone, is
+weeping and wringing his hands in dread of his master's fury.  While
+St. Malo is pruning vines, he lays his cape upon the ground, and a
+redbreast comes and lays an egg on it.  He leaves it there, for the
+bird's sake, till the young are hatched, knowing, says his
+biographer, that without God the Father not a sparrow falls to the
+ground.  Hailoch, the prince of Brittany, destroys his church, and
+is struck blind.  Restored to sight by the saint, he bestows large
+lands on the Church.  "The impious generation," who, with their
+children after them, have lost their property by Hailoch's gift,
+rise against St. Malo.  They steal his horses, and in mockery leave
+him only a mare.  They beat his baker, tie his feet under the
+horse's body, and leave him on the sand to be drowned by the rising
+tide.  The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, and the baker is
+saved.
+
+St. Malo, weary of the wicked Bretons, flees to Saintonge in
+Aquitaine, where he performs yet more miracles.  Meanwhile, a dire
+famine falls on the Bretons, and a thousand horrible diseases.
+Penitent, they send for St. Malo, who delivers them and their
+flocks.  But, at the command of an angel, he returns to Saintonge
+and dies there, and Saintonge has his relics, and the innumerable
+miracles which they work, even to the days of Sigebert, of Gembloux.
+
+
+ST. COLUMBA
+
+
+
+The famous St. Columba cannot perhaps be numbered among the hermits:
+but as the spiritual father of many hermits, as well as many monks,
+and as one whose influence upon the Christianity of these islands is
+notorious and extensive, he must needs have some notice in these
+pages.  Those who wish to study his life and works at length will of
+course read Dr. Reeves's invaluable edition of Adamnan.  The more
+general reader will find all that he need know in Mr. Hill Burton's
+excellent "History of Scotland," chapters vii. and viii.; and also
+in Mr. Maclear's "History of Christian Missions during the Middle
+Ages"--a book which should be in every Sunday library.
+
+St. Columba, like St. David and St. Cadoc of Wales, and like many
+great Irish saints, is a prince and a statesman as well as a monk.
+He is mixed up in quarrels between rival tribes.  He is concerned,
+according to antiquaries, in three great battles, one of which
+sprang, according to some, from Columba's own misdeeds.  He copies
+by stealth the Psalter of St. Finnian.  St. Finnian demands the
+copy, saying it was his as much as the original.  The matter is
+referred to King Dermod, who pronounces, in high court at Tara, the
+famous decision which has become a proverb in Ireland, that "to
+every cow belongs her own calf." {283}  St. Columba, who does not
+seem at this time to have possessed the dove-like temper which his
+name, according to his disciples, indicates, threatens to avenge
+upon the king his unjust decision.  The son of the king's steward
+and the son of the King of Connaught, a hostage at Dermod's court,
+are playing hurley on the green before Dermod's palace.  The young
+prince strikes the other boy, kills him, and flies for protection to
+Columba.  He is nevertheless dragged away, and slain upon the spot.
+Columba leaves the palace in a rage, goes to his native mountains of
+Donegal, and returns at the head of an army of northern and western
+Irish to fight the great battle of Cooldrevny in Sligo.  But after a
+while public opinion turns against him; and at the Synod of Teltown,
+in Meath, it is proclaimed that Columba, the man of blood, shall
+quit Ireland, and win for Christ out of heathendom as many souls as
+have perished in that great fight.  Then Columba, with twelve
+comrades, sails in a coracle for the coast of Argyleshire; and on
+the eve of Pentecost, A.D. 563, lands upon that island which, it may
+be, will be famous to all times as Iona, Hy, or Icolumkill,--Hy of
+Columb of the Cells.
+
+Thus had Columba, if the tale be true, undertaken a noble penance;
+and he performed it like a noble man.  If, according to the fashion
+of those times, he bewailed his sins with tears, he was no morbid or
+selfish recluse, but a man of practical power, and of wide humanity.
+Like one of Homer's old heroes, St. Columba could turn his hand to
+every kind of work.  He could turn the hand-mill, work on the farm,
+heal the sick, and command as a practised sailor the little fleet of
+coracles which lay hauled up on the strand of Iona, ready to carry
+him and his monks on their missionary voyages to the mainland or the
+isles.  Tall, powerful, handsome, with a face which, as Adamnan
+said, made all who saw him glad, and a voice so stentorian that it
+could be heard at times a full mile off, and coming too of royal
+race, it is no wonder if he was regarded as a sort of demigod, not
+only by his own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs to whom he preached
+the Cross.  We hear of him at Craig Phadrick, near Inverness; at
+Skye, at Tiree, and other islands; we hear of him receiving visits
+from his old monks of Derry and Durrow; returning to Ireland to
+decide between rival chiefs; and at last dying at the age of
+seventy-seven, kneeling before the altar in his little chapel of
+Iona--a death as beautiful as had been the last thirty-four years of
+his life; and leaving behind him disciples destined to spread the
+light of Christianity over the whole of Scotland and the northern
+parts of England.
+
+St. Columba, at one period or other of his life, is said to have
+visited a missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in Scotland as
+St. Kentigern, or more commonly St. Mungo, the patron saint of
+Glasgow.  The two men, it is said (but the story belongs to the
+twelfth century, and can hardly be depended on), exchanged their
+crooked staves or crosiers in token of Christian brotherhood, and
+that which St. Columba is said to have given to St. Kentigern was
+preserved in Ripon Cathedral to the beginning of the fifteenth
+century.  But who St. Kentigern was, or what he really did, is hard
+to say; for all his legends, like most of these early ones, are as
+tangled as a dream.  He dies in the year 601:  and yet he is the
+disciple of the famous St. Servanus or St. Serf, who lived in the
+times of St. Palladius and St. Patrick, 180 years before.  This St.
+Serf is a hermit of the true old type; and even if his story be, as
+Dr. Reeves thinks, a fabrication throughout, it is at least a very
+early one, and true to the ideal which had originated with St.
+Antony.  He is brought up in a monastery at Culross:  he is tempted
+by the devil in a cave in the parish of Dysart (the Desert), in
+Fifeshire, which still retains that name.  The daemon, fleeing from
+him, enters an unfortunate man, who is forthwith plagued with a
+wolfish appetite.  St. Serf cures him by putting his thumb into his
+mouth.  A man is accused of stealing and eating a lamb, and denies
+the theft.  St. Serf, however, makes the lamb bleat in the robber's
+stomach, and so substantiates the charge beyond all doubt.  He works
+other wonders; among them the slaying of a great dragon in the place
+called "Dunyne;" sails for the Orkneys, and converts the people
+there; and vanishes thenceforth into the dream-land from which he
+sprung.
+
+Two great disciples he has, St. Ternan and St. Kentigern; mystery
+and miracle hang round the boyhood of the latter.  His father is
+unknown.  His mother is condemned to be cast from the rock of
+"Dunpelder," but is saved and absolved by a miracle.  Before the
+eyes of the astonished Picts, she floats gently down through the
+air, and arrives at the cliff foot unhurt.  St. Kentigern is
+thenceforth believed to be virgin-born, and is reverenced as a
+miraculous being from his infancy.  He goes to school to the mythic
+St. Serf, who calls him Mungo, or the Beloved; which name he bears
+in Glasgow until this day.  His fellow-scholars envy his virtue and
+learning, and try to ruin him with their master.  St. Serf has a pet
+robin, which is wont to sit and sing upon his shoulder.  The boys
+pull off its head, and lay the blame upon Kentigern.  The saint
+comes in wrathful, tawse in hand, and Kentigern is for the moment in
+serious danger; but, equal to the occasion then as afterwards, he
+puts the robin's head on again, sets it singing, and amply
+vindicates his innocence.  To this day the robin figures in the arms
+of the good city of Glasgow, with the tree which St. Kentigern, when
+his enemies had put out his fire, brought in from the frozen forest
+and lighted with his breath, and the salmon in whose mouth a ring
+which had been cast into the Clyde had been found again by St.
+Kentigern's prophetic spirit.
+
+The envy of his fellow-scholars, however, is too much for St.
+Kentigern's peace of mind.  He wanders away to the spot where
+Glasgow city now stands, lives in a rock hollowed out into a tomb,
+is ordained by an Irish bishop (according to a Celtic custom, of
+which antiquaries have written learnedly and dubiously likewise),
+and has ecclesiastical authority over all the Picts from the Frith
+of Forth to the Roman Wall.  But all these stories, as I said
+before, are tangled as a dream; for the twelfth century monks, in
+their loyal devotion to the see of Rome, are apt to introduce again
+and again ecclesiastical customs which belonged to their own time,
+and try to represent these primaeval saints as regular and well-
+disciplined servants of the Pope.
+
+It may be remarked that St. Serf is said to have come into a
+"dysart" or desert.  So did many monks of the school of St. Columba
+and his disciples, who wished for a severer and a more meditative
+life than could be found in the busy society of a convent.  "There
+was a 'disert,'" says Dr. Reeves, "for such men to retire to,
+besides the monastery of Derry, and another at Iona itself, situate
+near the shore in the low ground, north of the Cathedral, as may be
+inferred from Portandisiart, the name of a little bay in this
+situation."  A similar "disert" or collection of hermit cells was
+endowed at Cashel in 1101; and a "disert columkill," with two
+townland mills and a vegetable garden, was endowed at Kells, at a
+somewhat earlier period, for the use of "devout pilgrims," as those
+were called who left the society of men to worship God in solitude.
+
+The Venerable Bede speaks of as many as three personages, Saxons by
+their names, who in the Isle of Ireland led the "Pilgrim" or
+anchoritic life, to obtain a country in heaven; and tells of a
+Drycthelm of the monastery at Melrose, who went into a secret
+dwelling therein to give himself more utterly to prayer, and who
+used to stand for hours in the cold waters of the Tweed, as St.
+Godric did centuries afterwards in those of the Wear.  Solitaries,
+"recluses," are met with again and again in these old records, who
+more than once became Abbots of Iona itself.  But there is no need
+to linger on over instances which are only quoted to show that some
+of the noblest spirits of the Celtic Church kept up wherever they
+could the hermit's ideal, the longing for solitude, for passive
+contemplation, for silence and perpetual prayer, which they had
+inherited from St. Antony and the Fathers of the Egyptian Desert.
+
+The same ideal was carried by them over the Border into England.
+Off its extreme northern coast, for instance, nearly half-way
+between Berwick and Bamborough Castle, lies, as travellers northward
+may have seen for themselves, the "Holy Island," called in old times
+Lindisfarne.  A monk's chapel on that island was the mother of all
+the churches between Tyne and Tweed, as well as of many between Tyne
+and Humber.  The Northumbrians had been nominally converted,
+according to Bede, A.D. 627, under their King Edwin, by Paulinus,
+one of the Roman monks who had followed in the steps of St.
+Augustine, the apostle of Kent.  Evil times had fallen on them.
+Penda, at the head of the idolatrous Mercians (the people of Mid-
+England), and Ceadwalla, at the head of the Western Britons, had
+ravaged the country north of Tweed with savage cruelty, slain King
+Edwin, at Hatfield, near Doncaster, and exterminated Christianity;
+while Paulinus had fled to Kent, and become Bishop of Rochester.
+The invaders had been driven out, seemingly by Oswald, who knew
+enough of Christianity to set up, ere he engaged the enemy, a cross
+of wood on the "Heavenfield," near Hexham.  That cross stood till
+the time of Bede, some 150 years after; and had become, like Moses'
+brazen serpent, an object of veneration.  For if chips cut off from
+it were put into water, that water cured men or cattle of their
+diseases.
+
+Oswald, believing that it was through the mercy of him whom that
+cross symbolized he had conquered the Mercians and the Britons,
+would needs reconvert his people to the true faith.  He had been in
+exile during Edwin's lifetime among the Scots, and had learned from
+them something of Christianity.  So out of Iona a monk was sent to
+him, Aidan by name, to be a bishop over the Northumbrians; and he
+settled himself upon the isle of Lindisfarne, and began to convert
+it into another Iona.  "A man he was," says Bede, "of singular
+sweetness, piety, and moderation; zealous in the cause of God,
+though not altogether according to knowledge, for he was wont to
+keep Easter after the fashion of his country;" i.e. of the Picts and
+Northern Scots. . . . "From that time forth many Scots came daily
+into Britain, and with great devotion preached the word to these
+provinces of the English over whom King Oswald reigned. . . .
+Churches were built, money and lands were given of the king's bounty
+to build monasteries; the English, great and small, were by their
+Scottish masters instructed in the rules and observance of regular
+discipline; for most of those who came to preach were monks." {290}
+
+So says the Venerable Bede, the monk of Jarrow, and the father (as
+he has been well called) of English history.  He tells us too, how
+Aidan, wishing, it may be supposed, for greater solitude, went away
+and lived on the rocky isle of Farne, some two miles out at sea, off
+Bamborough Castle; and how, when he saw Penda and his Mercians, in a
+second invasion of Northumbria, trying to burn down the walls of
+Bamborough--which were probably mere stockades of timber--he cried
+to God, from off his rock, to "behold the mischief:" whereon the
+wind changed suddenly, and blew the flames back on the besiegers,
+discomfiting them, and saving the town.
+
+Bede tells us, too, how Aidan wandered, preaching from place to
+place, haunting King Oswald's court, but owning nothing of his own
+save his church, and a few fields about it; and how, when death came
+upon him, they set up a tent for him close by the wall at the west
+end of the church, so that it befell that he gave up the ghost
+leaning against a post, which stood outside to strengthen the wall.
+
+A few years after, Penda came again and burned the village, with the
+church; and yet neither could that fire, nor one which happened soon
+after, destroy that post.  Wherefore the post was put inside the
+church, as a holy thing, and chips of it, like those of the Cross of
+Heaven Field, healed many folk of their distempers.
+
+. . . A tale at which we may look in two different humours.  We may
+pass it by with a sneer, and a hypothesis (which will be probably
+true) that the post was of old heart-of-oak, which is burnt with
+extreme difficulty; or we may pause a moment in reverence before the
+noble figure of the good old man, ending a life of unselfish toil
+without a roof beneath which to lay his head; penniless and
+comfortless in this world:  but sure of his reward in the world to
+come.
+
+A few years after Aidan's death another hermit betook him to the
+rocks of Farne, who rose to far higher glory; who became, in fact,
+the tutelar saint of the fierce Northern men; who was to them, up to
+the time even of the Tudor monarchs, what Pallas Athene was to
+Athens, or Diana to the Ephesians.  St. Cuthbert's shrine, in Durham
+Cathedral (where his biographer Bede also lay in honour), was their
+rallying point, not merely for ecclesiastical jurisdiction or for
+miraculous cures, but for political movements.  Above his shrine
+rose the noble pile of Durham.  The bishop, who ruled in his name,
+was a Count Palatine, and an almost independent prince.  His sacred
+banner went out to battle before the Northern levies, or drove back
+again and again the flames which consumed the wooden houses of
+Durham.  His relics wrought innumerable miracles; and often he
+himself appeared with long countenance, ripened by abstinence, his
+head sprinkled with grey hairs, his casule of cloth of gold, his
+mitre of glittering crystal, his face brighter than the sun, his
+eyes mild as the stars of heaven, the gems upon his hand and robes
+rattling against his pastoral staff beset with pearls. {292}  Thus
+glorious the demigod of the Northern men appeared to his votaries,
+and steered with his pastoral staff, as with a rudder, the sinking
+ship in safety to Lindisfarne; received from the hands of St.
+Brendan, as from a saint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman,
+laden with fetters, whom he had delivered out of the dungeon of
+Brancepeth, and, smiting asunder the massive Norman walls, led him
+into the forest, and bade him flee to sanctuary in Durham, and be
+safe; or visited the little timber vine-clad chapel of Lixtune, on
+the Cheshire shore, to heal the sick who watched all night before
+his altar, or to forgive the lad who had robbed the nest which his
+sacred raven had built upon the roof, and, falling with the decayed
+timber, had broken his bones, and maimed his sacrilegious hand.
+
+Originally, says Bede, a monk at Melrose, and afterward abbot of the
+same place, he used to wander weeks together out of his monastery,
+seemingly into Ettrick and the Lammermuirs, and preach in such
+villages as "being seated high up among craggy, uncouth mountains,
+were frightful to others even to look at, and whose poverty and
+barbarity rendered them inaccessible to other teachers."  "So
+skilful an orator was he, so fond of enforcing his subject, and such
+a brightness appeared in his angelic face, that no man presumed to
+conceal from him the most hidden secrets of their hearts, but all
+openly confessed what they had done."
+
+So he laboured for many years, till his old abbot Eata, who had
+become bishop and abbot at Lindisfarne, sent for him thither, and
+made him prior of the monks for several years.  But at last he
+longed, like so many before him, for solitude.  He considered (so he
+said afterwards to the brethren) that the life of the disciplined
+and obedient monk was higher than that of the lonely and independent
+hermit:  but yet he longed to be alone; longed, it may be, to recall
+at least upon some sea-girt rock thoughts which had come to him in
+those long wanderings on the heather moors, with no sound to
+distract him save the hum of the bee and the wail of the curlew; and
+so he went away to that same rock of Farne, where Aidan had taken
+refuge some ten or fifteen years before, and there, with the deep
+sea rolling at his feet and the gulls wailing about his head, he
+built himself one of those "Picts' Houses," the walls of which
+remain still in many parts of Scotland--a circular hut of turf and
+rough stone--and dug out the interior to a depth of some feet, and
+thatched it with sticks and grass; and made, it seems, two rooms
+within; one for an oratory, one for a dwelling-place:  and so lived
+alone, and worshipped God.  He grew his scanty crops of barley on
+the rock (men said, of course, by miracle):  he had tried wheat,
+but, as was to be expected, it failed.  He found (men said, of
+course, by miracle) a spring upon the rock.  Now and then brethren
+came to visit him.  And what did man need more, save a clear
+conscience and the presence of his Creator?  Certainly not Cuthbert.
+When he asked the brethren to bring him a beam that he might prop up
+his cabin where the sea had eaten out the floor, and when they
+forgot the commission, the sea itself washed one up in the very cove
+where it was needed:  when the choughs from the cliff stole his
+barley and the straw from the roof of his little hospice, he had
+only to reprove them, and they never offended again; on one
+occasion, indeed, they atoned for their offence by bringing him a
+lump of suet, wherewith he greased his shoes for many a day.  We are
+not bound to believe this story; it is one of many which hang about
+the memory of St. Cuthbert, and which have sprung out of that love
+of the wild birds which may have grown up in the good man during his
+long wanderings through woods and over moors.  He bequeathed (so it
+was believed) as a sacred legacy to the wild-fowl of the Farne
+islands, "St. Cuthbert's peace;" above all to the eider-ducks, which
+swarmed there in his days, but are now, alas! growing rarer and
+rarer, from the intrusion of vulgar sportsmen who never heard St.
+Cuthbert's name, or learnt from him to spare God's creatures when
+they need them not.  On Farne, in Reginald's time, they bred under
+your very bed, got out of your way if you made a sign to them, let
+you take up them or their young ones, and nestled silently in your
+bosom, and croaked joyfully with fluttering wings when stroked.
+"Not to nature, but to grace; not to hereditary tendency, but only
+to the piety and compassion of the blessed St. Cuthbert," says
+Reginald, "is so great a miracle to be ascribed.  For the Lord who
+made all things in heaven and earth has subjected them to the nod of
+his saints, and prostrated them under the feet of obedience."
+Insufficient induction (the cause of endless mistakes, and therefore
+of endless follies and crimes) kept Reginald unaware of the now
+notorious fact that the female eider, during the breeding season, is
+just as tame, allowing for a little exaggeration, as St. Cuthbert's
+own ducks are, while the male eider is just as wild and wary as any
+other sea-bird:  a mistake altogether excusable in one who had
+probably never seen or heard of eider-ducks in any other spot.  It
+may be, nevertheless, that St. Cuthbert's special affection for the
+eider may have been called out by another strange and well-known
+fact about them of which Reginald oddly enough takes no note--
+namely, that they line their nests with down plucked from their own
+bosom; thus realizing the fable which has made the pelican for so
+many centuries the type of the Church.  It is a question, indeed,
+whether the pelican, which is always represented in mediaeval
+paintings and sculptures with a short bill, instead of the enormous
+bill and pouch which is the especial mark of the "Onocrotalus" of
+the ancients, now miscalled pelican, be not actually the eider-duck
+itself, confounded with the true pelecanus, which was the mediaeval,
+and is still the scientific, name of the cormorant.  Be that as it
+may, ill befell any one who dare touch one of St. Cuthbert's birds,
+as was proved in the case of Liveing, servant to AElric, who was a
+hermit in Farne after the time of St. Cuthbert.  For he, tired it
+may be of barley and dried fish, killed and ate an eider-duck in his
+master's absence, scattering the bones and feathers over the cliffs.
+But when the hermit came back, what should he find but those same
+bones and feathers rolled into a lump and laid inside the door of
+the little chapel; the very sea, says Reginald, not having dared to
+swallow them up.  Whereby the hapless Liveing being betrayed, was
+soundly flogged, and put on bread and water for many a day; the
+which story Liveing himself told to Reginald.
+
+Not only the eider, but all birds in Farne, were protected by St.
+Cuthbert's peace.  Bartholomew, who was a famous hermit there in
+after years, had a tame bird, says the chronicler, who ate from his
+hand, and hopped about the table among him and his guests, till some
+thought it a miracle; and some, finding, no doubt, the rocks of
+Farne weary enough, derived continual amusement from the bird.  But
+when he one day went off to another island, and left his bird to
+keep the house, a hawk came in and ate it up.  Cuthbert, who could
+not save the bird, at least could punish the murderer.  The hawk
+flew round and round the island, imprisoned, so it was thought, by
+some mysterious power, till, terrified and worn out, it flew into
+the chapel, and lay, cowering and half dead, in a corner by the
+altar.  Bartholomew came back, found his bird's feathers, and the
+tired hawk.  But even the hawk must profit by St. Cuthbert's peace.
+He took it up, carried it to the harbour, and there bade it depart
+in St. Cuthbert's name, whereon it flew off free, and was no more
+seen.  Such tales as these may be explained, even to their most
+minute details, by simply natural causes:  and yet, in this age of
+wanton destruction of wild birds, one is tempted at moments to wish
+for the return of some such graceful and humane superstition which
+could keep down, at least in the name of mercy and humanity, the
+needless cruelty of man.
+
+But to return.  After St. Cuthbert, says Bede, had served God in the
+solitude of Farne for many years, the mound which encompassed his
+habitation being so high that he could see nothing from thence but
+heaven, to which he so ardently aspired, he was compelled by tears
+and entreaties--King Egfrid himself coming to the island, with
+bishops and religious and great men--to become himself bishop in
+Holy Island.  There, as elsewhere, he did his duty.  But after two
+years he went again to Farne, knowing that his end was near.  For
+when, in his episcopal labours, he had gone across to Lugubalia--old
+Penrith, in Cumberland--there came across to him a holy hermit,
+Herebert by name, who dwelt upon an island in Derwentwater, and
+talked with him a long while on heavenly things; and Cuthbert bade
+him ask him then all the questions which he wished to have resolved,
+for they should see each other no more in this world.  Herebert, who
+seems to have been one of his old friends, fell at Cuthbert's feet,
+and bade him remember that whenever he had done wrong he had
+submitted himself to him utterly, and always tried to live according
+to his rules; and all he wished for now was that, as they had served
+God together upon earth, they might depart for ever to see his bliss
+in heaven:  the which befell; for a few months afterwards, that is,
+on the 20th of March, their souls quitted their mortal bodies on the
+same day, and they were re-united in spirit.
+
+St. Cuthbert wished to have been buried on his rock in Farne:  but
+the brethren had persuaded him to allow his corpse to be removed to
+Holy Island.  He begged them, said Bede, should they be forced to
+leave that place, to carry his bones along with them; and so they
+were forced to do at last; for in the year 875; whilst the Danes
+were struggling with Alfred in Wessex, an army of them, with
+Halfdene at their head, went up into Northumbria, burning towns,
+destroying churches, tossing children on their pike-points, and
+committing all those horrors which made the Norsemen terrible and
+infamous for so many years.  Then the monks fled from the monastery,
+bearing the shrine of St. Cuthbert, and all their treasures, and
+followed by their retainers, men, women, and children, and their
+sheep and oxen:  and behold! the hour of their flight was that of an
+exceedingly high spring tide.  The Danes were landing from their
+ships in their rear; in their front was some two miles of sea.
+Escape seemed hopeless; when, says the legend, the water retreated
+before the holy relics as they advanced; and became, as to the
+children of Israel of old, a wall on their right hand and on their
+left; and so St. Cuthbert came safe to shore, and wandered in the
+woods, borne upon his servants' shoulders, and dwelling in tents for
+seven years, and found rest at last in Durham, till at the
+Reformation his shrine, and that of the Venerable Bede, were robbed
+of their gold and jewels; and no trace of them (as far as I know) is
+left, save that huge slab, whereon is written the monkish rhyme:--
+
+
+Hic jacet in fossa
+Bedae Venerabilis ossa. {299}
+
+
+
+ST. GUTHLAC
+
+
+
+Hermits dwelling in the wilderness, as far as I am aware, were to be
+seen only in the northern and western parts of the island, where not
+only did the forest afford concealment, but the crags and caves
+shelter.  The southern and eastern English seldom possess the vivid
+imagination of the Briton, the Northumbrian, and the Scot; while the
+rich lowlands of central, southern, and eastern England, well
+peopled and well tilled, offered few spots lonely enough for the
+hermit's cell.
+
+One district only was desolate enough to attract those who wished to
+be free from the world,--namely, the great fens north of Cambridge;
+and there, accordingly, as early as the seventh century, hermits
+settled in morasses now so utterly transformed that it is difficult
+to restore in one's imagination the original scenery.
+
+The fens in the seventh century were probably very like the forests
+at the mouth of the Mississippi, or the swampy shores of the
+Carolinas.  Their vast plain is now, in summer, one sea of golden
+corn; in winter, a black dreary fallow, cut into squares by stagnant
+dykes, and broken only by unsightly pumping mills and doleful lines
+of poplar-trees.  Of old it was a labyrinth of black wandering
+streams; broad lagoons; morasses submerged every spring-tide; vast
+beds of reed and sedge and fern; vast copses of willow, alder, and
+grey poplar, rooted in the floating peat, which was swallowing up
+slowly, all-devouring, yet all-preserving, the forests of fir and
+oak, ash and poplar, hazel and yew, which had once grown on that
+low, rank soil, sinking slowly (so geologists assure us) beneath the
+sea from age to age.  Trees, torn down by flood and storm, floated
+and lodged in rafts, damming the waters back upon the land.
+Streams, bewildered in the flats, changed their channels, mingling
+silt and sand with the peat moss.  Nature, left to herself, ran into
+wild riot and chaos more and more, till the whole fen became one
+"Dismal Swamp," in which, at the time of the Norman Conquest, the
+"Last of the English," like Dred in Mrs. Stowe's tale, took refuge
+from their tyrants, and lived, like him, a free and joyous life
+awhile.
+
+For there are islands in the sea which have escaped the destroying
+deluge of peat-moss,--outcrops of firm and fertile land, which in
+the early Middle Age were so many natural parks, covered with
+richest grass and stateliest trees, swarming with deer and roe, goat
+and boar, as the streams around swarmed with otter and beaver, and
+with fowl of every feather, and fish of every scale.
+
+Beautiful after their kind were those far isles in the eyes of the
+monks who were the first settlers in the wilderness.  The author of
+the "History of Ramsey" grows enthusiastic, and somewhat bombastic
+also, as he describes the lovely isle, which got its name from the
+solitary ram who had wandered thither, either in extreme drought or
+over the winter ice, and, never able to return, was found feeding
+among the wild deer, fat beyond the wont of rams.  He tells of the
+stately ashes, most of them cut in his time, to furnish mighty beams
+for the church roof; of the rich pastures painted with all gay
+flowers in spring; of the "green crown" of reed and alder which
+encircled the isle; of the fair wide mere (now drained) with its
+"sandy beach" along the forest side; "a delight," he says, "to all
+who look thereon."
+
+In like humour William of Malmesbury, writing in the first half of
+the twelfth century, speaks of Thorney Abbey and its isle.  "It
+represents," says he, "a very paradise; for that in pleasure and
+delight it resembles heaven itself.  These marshes abound in trees,
+whose length, without a knot, doth emulate the stars.  The plain
+there is as level as the sea, alluring the eye with its green grass,
+and so smooth that there is nought to trip the foot of him who runs
+through it.  Neither is there any waste place; for in some parts are
+apples, in others vines, which are either spread on the ground, or
+raised on poles.  A mutual strife there is between Nature and Art;
+so that what one produces not the other supplies.  What shall I say
+of those fair buildings, which 'tis so wonderful to see the ground
+among those fens upbear?"
+
+So wrote William of Malmesbury, after the industry and wisdom of the
+monks, for more than four centuries, had been at work to civilize
+and cultivate the wilderness.  Yet even then there was another side
+to the picture; and Thorney, Ramsey, or Crowland would have seemed,
+for nine months every year, sad places enough to us comfortable folk
+of the nineteenth century.  But men lived hard in those days, even
+the most high-born and luxurious nobles and ladies; under dark
+skies, in houses which we should think, from darkness, draught, and
+want of space, unfit for felons' cells.  Hardly they lived; and
+easily were they pleased; and thanked God for the least gleam of
+sunshine, the least patch of green, after the terrible and long
+winters of the Middle Ages.  And ugly enough those winters must have
+been, what with snow and darkness, flood and ice, ague and
+rheumatism; while through the dreary winter's night the whistle of
+the wind and the wild cries of the waterfowl were translated into
+the howls of witches and daemons; and (as in St. Guthlac's case),
+the delirious fancies of marsh fever made those fiends take hideous
+shapes before the inner eye, and act fantastic horrors round the
+fen-man's bed of sedge.
+
+Concerning this St. Guthlac full details remain, both in Latin and
+Anglo-Saxon; the author of the original document professing to be
+one Felix, a monk of Ramsey near by, who wrote possibly as early as
+the eighth century. {303}
+
+There we may read how the young warrior-noble Guthlac ("The Battle-
+Play," the "Sport of War"), tired of slaying and sinning, bethought
+him to fulfil the prodigies seen at his birth; how he wandered into
+the fen, where one Tatwin (who after became a saint likewise) took
+him in his canoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost unknown, buried
+in reeds and alders, and how he found among the trees nought but an
+old "law," as the Scots still call a mound, which men of old had
+broken into seeking for treasure, and a little pond; and how he
+built himself a hermit's cell thereon, and saw visions and wrought
+miracles; and how men came to him, as to a fakir or shaman of the
+East; notably one Beccel, who acted as his servant; and how as
+Beccel was shaving the saint one day there fell on him a great
+temptation:  Why should he not cut St. Guthlac's throat, and instal
+himself in his cell, that he might have the honour and glory of
+sainthood?  But St. Guthlac perceived the inward temptation (which
+is told with the naive honesty of those half-savage times), and
+rebuked the offender into confession, and all went well to the end.
+
+There we may read, too, a detailed account of the Fauna now happily
+extinct in the fens; of the creatures who used to hale St. Guthlac
+out of his hut, drag him through the bogs, carry him aloft through
+frost and fire--"Develen and luther gostes"--such as tormented in
+like wise St. Botolph (from whom Botulfston = Boston, has its name),
+and who were supposed to haunt the meres and fens, and to have an
+especial fondness for old heathen barrows with their fancied
+treasure-hoards:  how they "filled the house with their coming, and
+poured in on every side, from above, and from beneath, and
+everywhere.  They were in countenance horrible, and they had great
+heads, and a long neck, and a lean visage; they were filthy and
+squalid in their beards, and they had rough ears, and crooked
+'nebs,' and fierce eyes, and foul mouths; and their teeth were like
+horses' tusks; and their throats were filled with flame, and they
+were grating in their voice; they had crooked shanks, and knees big
+and great behind, and distorted toes, and cried hoarsely with their
+voices; and they came with immoderate noise and immense horror, that
+he thought that all between, heaven and earth resounded with their
+voices. . . .  And they tugged and led him out of the cot, and led
+him to the swart fen, and threw and sunk him in the muddy waters.
+After that they brought him into the wild places of the wilderness,
+among the thick beds of brambles, that all his body was torn. . . .
+After that they took him and beat him with iron whips, and after
+that they brought him on their creaking wings between the cold
+regions of the air."
+
+But there are gentler and more human touches in that old legend.
+You may read in it how all the wild birds of the fen came to St.
+Guthlac, and he fed them after their kind; how the ravens tormented
+him, stealing letters, gloves, and what not, from his visitors; and
+then, seized with compunction at his reproofs, brought them back, or
+hanged them on the reeds; and how, as Wilfrid, a holy visitant, was
+sitting with him, discoursing of the contemplative life, two
+swallows came flying in, and lifted up their song, sitting now on
+the saint's hand, now on his shoulder, now on his knee; and how,
+when Wilfrid wondered thereat, Guthlac made answer, "Know you not
+that he who hath led his life according to God's will, to him the
+wild beasts and the wild birds draw the more near?"
+
+After fifteen years of such a life, in fever, ague, and starvation,
+no wonder if St. Guthlac died.  They buried him in a leaden coffin
+(a grand and expensive luxury in the seventh century) which had been
+sent to him during his life by a Saxon princess; and then, over his
+sacred and wonder-working corpse, as over that of a Buddhist saint,
+there arose a chapel, with a community of monks, companies of
+pilgrims who came to worship, sick who came to be healed; till at
+last, founded on great piles driven into the bog, arose the lofty
+wooden Abbey of Crowland; in "sanctuary of the four rivers," with
+its dykes, parks, vineyards, orchards, rich ploughlands, from which,
+in time of famine, the monks of Crowland fed all people of the
+neighbouring fens; with its tower with seven bells, which had not
+their like in England; its twelve altars rich with the gifts of
+Danish vikings and princes, and even with twelve white bear-skins,
+the gift of Canute's self; while all around were the cottages of the
+corrodiers, or folk who, for a corrody, or life pittance from the
+abbey, had given away their lands, to the wrong and detriment of
+their heirs.
+
+But within those four rivers, at least, were neither tyranny nor
+slavery.  Those who took refuge in St Guthlac's place from cruel
+lords must keep his peace toward each other, and earn their living
+like honest men, safe while they so did:  for between those four
+rivers St. Guthlac and his abbot were the only lords; and neither
+summoner, nor sheriff of the king, nor armed force of knight or
+earl, could enter--"the inheritance of the Lord, the soil of St.
+Mary and St. Bartholomew, the most holy sanctuary of St. Guthlac and
+his monks; the minister free from worldly servitude; the special
+almshouse of most illustrious kings; the sole refuge of any one in
+worldly tribulation; the perpetual abode of the saints; the
+possession of religious men, specially set apart by the common
+council of the realm; by reason of the frequent miracles of the holy
+confessor St. Guthlac, an ever-fruitful mother of camphire in the
+vineyards of Engedi; and, by reason of the privileges granted by the
+kings, a city of grace and safety to all who repent."
+
+Does not all this sound like a voice from another planet?  It is all
+gone; and it was good and right that it should go when it had done
+its work, and that the civilization of the fen should be taken up
+and carried out by men like the good knight, Richard of Rulos, who,
+two generations after the Conquest, marrying Hereward's grand-
+daughter, and becoming Lord of Deeping (the deep meadow), thought
+that he could do the same work from the hall of Bourne as the monks
+did from their cloisters; got permission from the Crowland monks,
+for twenty marks of silver, to drain as much as he could of the
+common marshes; and then shut out the Welland by strong dykes, built
+cottages, marked out gardens, and tilled fields, till "out of slough
+and bogs accursed he made a garden of pleasure."
+
+Yet one lasting work those monks of Crowland seem to have done,
+besides those firm dykes and rich corn-lands of the Porsand, which
+endure unto this day.  For within two generations of the Norman
+conquest, while the old wooden abbey, destroyed by fire, was being
+replaced by that noble pile of stone whose ruins are still standing,
+the French abbot of Crowland (so runs the legend) sent French monks
+to open a school under the new French donjon, in the little Roman
+town of Grante-brigge; whereby--so does all earnest work, however
+mistaken, grow and spread in this world, infinitely and for ever--
+St. Guthlac, by his canoe-voyage into Crowland Island, became the
+spiritual father of the University of Cambridge in the old world;
+and therefore of her noble daughter, the University of Cambridge, in
+the new world which fen-men sailing from Boston deeps colonized and
+Christianized 800 years after St. Guthlac's death.
+
+
+
+ST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE
+
+
+
+A personage quite as interesting, though not as famous, as Cuthbert
+or Guthlac, is St. Godric; the hermit around whose cell rose the
+Priory of Finchale.  In a loop of the river Wear, near Durham, there
+settled in the days of Bishop Flambard, between 1099 and 1128, a man
+whose parentage and history was for many years unknown to the good
+folks of the neighbourhood.  He had come, it seems, from a hermitage
+in Eskdale, in the parish of Whitby, whence he had been driven by
+the Percys, lords of the soil.  He had gone to Durham, become the
+doorkeeper of St. Giles's church, and gradually learnt by heart (he
+was no scholar) the whole Psalter.  Then he had gone to St. Mary's
+church, where (as was the fashion of the times) there was a
+children's school; and, listening to the little ones at their
+lessons, picked up such hymns and prayers as he thought would
+suffice his spiritual wants.  And then, by leave of the bishop, he
+had gone away into the woods, and devoted himself to the solitary
+life in Finchale.  Buried in the woods and crags of the "Royal
+Park," as it was then called, which swarmed with every kind of game,
+there was a little flat meadow, rough with sweet-gale and bramble
+and willow, beside a teeming salmon-pool.  Great wolves haunted the
+woods; but Godric cared nought for them; and the shingles swarmed
+with snakes,--probably only the harmless collared snakes of wet
+meadows, but reputed, as all snakes are by the vulgar, venomous:
+but he did not object to become "the companion of serpents and
+poisonous asps."  He handled them, caressed them, let them lie by
+the fire in swarms on winter nights, in the little cave which he had
+hollowed in the ground and thatched with turf.  Men told soon how
+the snakes obeyed him; how two especially huge ones used to lie
+twined about his legs; till after many years, annoyed by their
+importunity, he turned them all gently out of doors, with solemn
+adjurations never to return, and they, of course, obeyed.
+
+His austerities knew no bounds.  He lived on roots and berries,
+flowers and leaves; and when the good folk found him out, and put
+gifts of food near his cell, he carried them up to the crags above,
+and, offering them solemnly up to the God who feeds the ravens when
+they call on him, left them there for the wild birds.  He watched,
+fasted, and scourged himself, and wore always a hair shirt and an
+iron cuirass.  He sat, night after night, even in mid-winter, in the
+cold Wear, the waters of which had hollowed out a rock near by into
+a natural bath, and afterwards in a barrel sunk in the floor of a
+little chapel of wattle, which he built and dedicated to the blessed
+Virgin Mary.  He tilled a scrap of ground, and ate the grain from
+it, mingled with ashes.  He kept his food till it was decayed before
+he tasted it; and led a life the records of which fill the reader
+with astonishment, not only at the man's iron strength of will, but
+at the iron strength of the constitution which could support such
+hardships, in such a climate, for a single year.
+
+A strong and healthy man must Godric have been, to judge from the
+accounts (there are two, both written by eye-witnesses) of his
+personal appearance--a man of great breadth of chest and strength of
+arm; black-haired, hook-nosed, deep-browed, with flashing grey eyes;
+altogether a personable and able man, who might have done much work
+and made his way in many lands.  But what his former life had been
+he would not tell.  Mother-wit he had in plenty, and showed insight
+into men and things which the monks of Durham were ready enough to
+call the spirit of prophecy.  After awhile it was whispered that he
+wrought miraculous cures:  that even a bit of the bread which he was
+wont to eat had healed a sick woman; that he fought with daemons in
+visible shape; that he had seen (just as one of the old Egyptian
+hermits had seen) a little black boy running about between two monks
+who had quarrelled and come to hard blows and bleeding faces because
+one of them had made mistakes in the evening service:  and, in
+short, there were attributed to him, during his lifetime, and by
+those who knew him well, a host of wonders which would be startling
+and important were they not exactly the same as those which appear
+in the life of every hermit since St. Antony.  It is impossible to
+read the pages of Reginald of Durham (for he, the biographer of St.
+Cuthbert, is also the biographer of St. Godric) without feeling how
+difficult it is to obtain anything like the truth, even from eye-
+witnesses, if only men are (as they were in those days) in a state
+of religious excitement, at a period of spiritual revivals.  The
+ignorant populace were ready to believe, and to report, anything of
+the Fakeer of Finchale.  The monks of Durham were glad enough to
+have a wonder-working man belonging to them; for Ralph Flambard, in
+honour of Godric, had made over to them the hermitage of Finchale,
+with its fields and fisheries.  The lad who, in after years, waited
+on the hermit, would have been ready enough to testify that his
+master saw daemons and other spiritual beings; for he began to see
+them on his own account; {312} fell asleep in the forest coming home
+from Durham with some bottles; was led in a vision by St. John the
+Baptist to the top of a hill, and shown by him wonders unspeakable;
+saw, on another occasion, a daemon in St. Godric's cell, hung all
+over with bottles of different liquors, offering them to the saint,
+who bade the lad drive him out of the little chapel, with a holy
+water sprinkle, but not go outside it himself.  But the lad, in the
+fury of successful pursuit, overstepped the threshold; whereon the
+daemon, turning in self-defence, threw a single drop of one of his
+liquors into the lad's mouth, and vanished with a laugh of scorn.
+The boy's face and throat swelled horribly for three days; and he
+took care thenceforth to obey the holy man more strictly:  a story
+which I have repeated, like the one before it, only to show the real
+worth of the evidence on which Reginald has composed his book.
+Ailred, Abbot of Rievaux (for Reginald's book, though dedicated to
+Hugh Pudsey, his bishop, was prompted by Ailred) was capable (as his
+horrible story of the nun of Watton proves) of believing anything
+and everything which fell in with his fanatical, though pious and
+gentle, temper.
+
+And here a few words must be said to persons with whose difficulties
+I deeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions I differ utterly:
+those, namely, who say that if we reject the miracles of these
+saints' lives, we must reject also the miracles of the New
+Testament.  The answer is, as I believe, that the Apostles and
+Evangelists were sane men:  men in their right minds, wise, calm;
+conducting themselves (save in the matter of committing sins) like
+other human beings, as befitted the disciples of that Son of Man who
+came eating and drinking, and was therefore called by the ascetics
+of his time a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber:  whereas these
+monks were not (as I have said elsewhere) in their right minds at
+all.
+
+This is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare the
+style of the Apostles and Evangelists with that of the monkish
+hagiologists.  The calm, the simplicity, the brevity, the true
+grandeur of the former is sufficient evidence of their healthy-
+mindedness and their trustworthiness.  The affectation, the self-
+consciousness, the bombast, the false grandeur of the latter is
+sufficient evidence that they are neither healthy-minded or
+trustworthy.  Let students compare any passage of St. Luke or St.
+John, however surprising the miracle which it relates, with St.
+Jerome's life of Paul the First Hermit, or with that famous letter
+of his to Eustochium, which (although historically important) is
+unfit for the eyes of pure-minded readers and does not appear in
+this volume; and let them judge for themselves.  Let them compare,
+again, the opening sentences of the Four Gospels, or of the Acts of
+the Apostles, with the words with which Reginald begins this life of
+St. Godric.  "By the touch of the Holy Spirit's finger the chord of
+the harmonic human heart resounds melodiously.  For when the vein of
+the heart is touched by the grace of the Holy Spirit, forthwith, by
+the permirific sweetness of the harmony, an exceeding operation of
+sacred virtue is perceived more manifestly to spring forth.  With
+this sweetness of spirit, Godric, the man of God, was filled from
+the very time of his boyhood, and grew famous for many admirable
+works of holy work (sic), because the harmonic teaching of the Holy
+Spirit fired the secrets of his very bosom with a wondrous contact
+of spiritual grace:"--and let them say, after the comparison, if the
+difference between the two styles is not that which exists between
+one of God's lilies, fresh from the field, and a tawdry bunch of
+artificial flowers?
+
+But to return.  Godric himself took part in the history of his own
+miracles and life.  It may be that he so overworked his brain that
+he believed that he was visited by St. Peter, and taught a hymn by
+the blessed Virgin Mary, and that he had taken part in a hundred
+other prodigies; but the Prologue to the Harleian manuscript (which
+the learned Editor, Mr. Stevenson, believes to be an early edition
+of Reginald's own composition) confesses that Reginald, compelled by
+Ailred of Rievaux, tried in vain for a long while to get the
+hermit's story from him.
+
+"You wish to write my life?" he said.  "Know then that Godric's life
+is such as this:--Godric, at first a gross rustic, an unclean liver,
+an usurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a flatterer, a wanderer, pilfering
+and greedy; now a dead flea, a decayed dog, a vile worm, not a
+hermit, but a hypocrite; not a solitary, but a gad-about in mind; a
+devourer of alms, dainty over good things, greedy and negligent,
+lazy and snoring, ambitious and prodigal, one who is not worthy to
+serve others, and yet every day beats and scolds those who serve
+him:  this, and worse than this, you may write of Godric."  "Then he
+was silent as one indignant," says Reginald, "and I went off in some
+confusion," and the grand old man was left to himself and to his
+God.
+
+The ecclesiastical Boswell dared not mention the subject again to
+his hero for several years, though he came after from Durham to
+visit him, and celebrate mass for him in his little chapel.  After
+some years, however, he approached the matter again; and whether a
+pardonable vanity had crept over Godric, or whether he had begun at
+last to believe in his miracles, or whether the old man had that
+upon his mind of which he longed to unburthen himself, he began to
+answer questions, and Reginald delighted to listen and note down
+till he had finished, he says, that book of his life and miracles;
+{316} and after a while brought it to the saint, and falling on his
+knees, begged him to bless, in the name of God, and for the benefit
+of the faithful, the deeds of a certain religious man, who had
+suffered much for God in this life which he (Reginald) had composed
+accurately.  The old man perceived that he himself was the subject,
+blessed the book with solemn words (what was written therein he does
+not seem to have read), and bade Reginald conceal it till his death,
+warning him that a time would come when he should suffer rough and
+bitter things on account of that book, from those who envied him.
+That prophecy, says Reginald, came to pass; but how, or why, he does
+not tell.  There may have been, among those shrewd Northumbrian
+heads, even then, incredulous men, who used their common sense.
+
+But the story which Godric told was wild and beautiful; and though
+we must not depend too much on the accuracy of the old man's
+recollections, or on the honesty of Reginald's report, who would
+naturally omit all incidents which made against his hero's
+perfection, it is worth listening to, as a vivid sketch of the
+doings of a real human being, in that misty distance of the Early
+Middle Age.
+
+He was born, he said, at Walpole, in Norfolk, on the old Roman sea-
+bank, between the Wash and the deep Fens.  His father's name was
+AEilward; his mother's, AEdwen--"the Keeper of Blessedness," and
+"the Friend of Blessedness," as Reginald translates them--poor and
+pious folk; and, being a sharp boy, he did not take to field-work,
+but preferred wandering the fens as a pedlar, first round the
+villages, then, as he grew older, to castles and to towns, buying
+and selling--what, Reginald does not tell us:  but we should be glad
+to know.
+
+One day he had a great deliverance, which Reginald thinks a miracle.
+Wandering along the great tide-flats near Spalding and the old Well-
+stream, in search of waifs, and strays, of wreck or eatables, he saw
+three porpoises stranded far out upon the banks.  Two were alive,
+and the boy took pity on them (so he said) and let them be:  but one
+was dead, and off it (in those days poor folks ate anything) he cut
+as much flesh and blubber as he could carry, and toiled back towards
+the high-tide mark.  But whether he lost his way among the banks, or
+whether he delayed too long, the tide came in on him up to his
+knees, his waist, his chin, and at last, at times, over his head.
+The boy made the sign of the cross (as all men in danger did then)
+and struggled on valiantly a full mile through the sea, like a brave
+lad never loosening his hold of his precious porpoise-meat till he
+reached the shore at the very spot from which he had set out.
+
+As he grew, his pedlar journeys became longer.  Repeating to
+himself, as he walked, the Creeds and the Lord's Prayer--his only
+lore--he walked for four years through Lindsey; then went to St.
+Andrew's in Scotland; after that, for the first time, to Rome.  Then
+the love of a wandering sea life came on him, and he sailed with his
+wares round the east coasts; not merely as a pedlar, but as a sailor
+himself, he went to Denmark and to Flanders, buying and selling,
+till he owned (in what port we are not told, but probably in Lynn or
+Wisbeach) half one merchant ship and the quarter of another.  A
+crafty steersman he was, a wise weather-prophet, a shipman stout in
+body and in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells us of 350
+years after:--
+
+
+"--A dagger hanging by a las hadde hee
+About his nekke under his arm adoun.
+The hote summer hadde made his hewe al broun.
+And certainly he was a good felaw;
+Full many a draught of wine he hadde draw,
+From Burdeaux ward, while that the chapmen slepe,
+Of nice conscience took he no kepe.
+If that he fought, and hadde the higher hand,
+By water he sent hem home to every land.
+But of his craft to recken wel his tides,
+His stremes and his strandes him besides,
+His herberwe, his mone, and his lode manage,
+There was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage.
+Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:
+With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.
+He knew wel alle the havens, as they were,
+From Gotland to the Cape de Finisterre,
+And every creke in Bretagne and in Spain."
+
+
+But gradually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought that
+there was something more to be done in the world than making money.
+He became a pious man after the fashion of those days.  He
+worshipped at the famous shrine of St. Andrew.  He worshipped, too,
+at St. Cuthbert's hermitage at Farne, and there, he said afterwards,
+he longed for the first time for the rest and solitude of the
+hermitage.  He had been sixteen years a seaman now, with a seaman's
+temptations--it may be (as he told Reginald plainly) with some of a
+seaman's vices.  He may have done things which lay heavy on his
+conscience.  But it was getting time to think about his soul.  He
+took the cross, and went off to Jerusalem, as many a man did then,
+under difficulties incredible, dying, too often, on the way.  But
+Godric not only got safe thither, but went out of his way home by
+Spain to visit the sanctuary of St. James of Compostella, a see
+which Pope Calixtus II. had just raised to metropolitan dignity.
+
+Then he appears as steward to a rich man in the Fens, whose sons and
+young retainers, after the lawless fashion of those Anglo-Norman
+times, rode out into the country round to steal the peasants' sheep
+and cattle, skin them on the spot, and pass them off to the master
+of the house as venison taken in hunting.  They ate and drank,
+roystered and rioted, like most other young Normans; and vexed the
+staid soul of Godric, whose nose told him plainly enough, whenever
+he entered the kitchen, that what was roasting had never come off a
+deer.  In vain he protested and warned them, getting only insults
+for his pains.  At last he told his lord.  The lord, as was to be
+expected, cared nought about the matter.  Let the lads rob the
+English villains:  for what other end had their grandfathers
+conquered the land?  Godric punished himself, as he could not punish
+them, for the unwilling share which he had had in the wrong.  It may
+be that he, too, had eaten of that stolen food.  So away he went
+into France, and down the Rhone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of
+St. Giles, the patron saint of the wild deer; and then on to Rome a
+second time, and back to his poor parents in the Fens.
+
+And now follows a strange and beautiful story.  All love of
+seafaring and merchandise had left the deep-hearted sailor.  The
+heavenly and the eternal, the salvation of his sinful soul, had
+become all in all to him; and yet he could not rest in the little
+dreary village on the Roman bank.  He would go on pilgrimage again.
+Then his mother would go likewise, and see St. Peter's church, and
+the Pope, and all the wonders of Rome, and have her share in all the
+spiritual blessings which were to be obtained (so men thought then)
+at Rome alone.  So off they set on foot; and when they came to ford
+or ditch, Godric carried his mother on his back, until they came to
+London town.  And there AEdwen took off her shoes, and vowed out of
+devotion to the holy apostles Peter and Paul (who, so she thought,
+would be well pleased at such an act) to walk barefoot to Rome and
+barefoot back again.
+
+Now just as they went out of London, on the Dover Road, there met
+them in the way the loveliest maiden they had ever seen, and asked
+to bear them company in their pilgrimage.  And when they agreed, she
+walked with them, sat with them, and talked with them with
+superhuman courtesy and grace; and when they turned into an inn, she
+ministered to them herself, and washed and kissed their feet, and
+then lay down with them to sleep, after the simple fashion of those
+days.  But a holy awe of her, as of some saint and goddess, fell on
+the wild seafarer; and he never, so he used to aver, treated her for
+a moment save as a sister.  Never did either ask the other who they
+were, and whence they came; and Godric reported (but this was long
+after the event) that no one of the company of pilgrims could see
+that fair maid, save he and his mother alone.  So they came safe to
+Rome, and back to London town; and when they were at the place
+outside Southwark, where the fair maid had met them first, she asked
+permission to leave them, for she "must go to her own land, where
+she had a tabernacle of rest, and dwelt in the house of her God."
+And then, bidding them bless God, who had brought them safe over the
+Alps, and across the sea, and all along that weary road, she went on
+her way, and they saw her no more.
+
+Then with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory, and it
+may be never leaving it, Godric took his mother safe home, and
+delivered her to his father, and bade them both after awhile
+farewell, and wandered across England to Penrith, and hung about the
+churches there, till some kinsmen of his recognised him, and gave
+him a psalter (he must have taught himself to read upon his
+travels), which he learnt by heart.  Then, wandering ever in search
+of solitude, he went into the woods and found a cave, and passed his
+time therein in prayer, living on green herbs and wild honey, acorns
+and crabs; and when he went about to gather food, he fell down on
+his knees every few yards and said a prayer, and rose and went on.
+
+After awhile he wandered on again, until at Wolsingham, in Durham,
+he met with another holy hermit, who had been a monk at Durham,
+living in a cave in forests in which no man dare dwell, so did they
+swarm with packs of wolves; and there the two good men dwelt
+together till the old hermit fell sick, and was like to die.  Godric
+nursed him, and sat by him, to watch for his last breath.  For the
+same longing had come over him which came over Marguerite
+d'Angouleme when she sat by the dying bed of her favourite maid of
+honour--to see if the spirit, when it left the body, were visible,
+and what kind of thing it was:  whether, for instance, it was really
+like the little naked babe which is seen in mediaeval illuminations
+flying out of the mouths of dying men.  But, worn out with watching,
+Godric could not keep from sleep.  All but despairing of his desire,
+he turned to the dying man, and spoke, says Reginald, some such
+words as these:--"O spirit! who art diffused in that body in the
+likeness of God, and art still inside that breast, I adjure thee by
+the Highest, that thou leave not the prison of this thine habitation
+while I am overcome by sleep, and know not of it."  And so he fell
+asleep:  but when he woke, the old hermit lay motionless and
+breathless.  Poor Godric wept, called on the dead man, called on
+God; his simple heart was set on seeing this one thing.  And,
+behold, he was consoled in a wondrous fashion.  For about the third
+hour of the day the breath returned.  Godric hung over him, watching
+his lips.  Three heavy sighs he drew, then a shudder, another sigh:
+{323} and then (so Godric was believed to have said in after years)
+he saw the spirit flit.
+
+What it was like, he did not like to say, for the most obvious
+reason--that he saw nothing, and was an honest man.  A monk teased
+him much to impart to him this great discovery, which seemed to the
+simple untaught sailor a great spiritual mystery, and which was,
+like some other mediaeval mysteries which were miscalled spiritual
+(transubstantiation above all), altogether material and gross
+imaginations.  Godric answered wisely enough, that "no man could
+perceive the substance of the spiritual soul."
+
+But the monk insisting, and giving him no rest, he answered,--
+whether he wished to answer a fool according to his folly, or
+whether he tried to fancy (as men will who are somewhat vain--and if
+a saint was not vain, it was no fault of the monks who beset him)
+that he had really seen something.  He told how it was like a dry,
+hot wind rolled into a sphere, and shining like the clearest glass,
+but that what it was really like no one could express.  Thus much,
+at least, may be gathered from the involved bombast of Reginald.
+
+Another pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre did Godric make before he
+went to the hermitage in Eskdale, and settled finally at Finchale.
+And there about the hills of Judaea he found, says Reginald, hermits
+dwelling in rock-caves, as they had dwelt since the time of St.
+Jerome.  He washed himself, and his hair shirt and little cross, in
+the sacred waters of the Jordan, and returned, after incredible
+suffering, to become the saint of Finchale.
+
+His hermitage became, in due time, a stately priory, with its
+community of monks, who looked up to the memory of their holy father
+Godric as to that of a demigod.  The place is all ruinate now; the
+memory of St. Godric gone; and not one in ten thousand, perhaps, who
+visit those crumbling walls beside the rushing Wear, has heard of
+the sailor-saint, and his mother, and that fair maid who tended them
+on their pilgrimage.
+
+Meanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same hermitage
+in Eskdale, from which a Percy expelled St. Godric, possibly because
+he interfered with the prior claim of some protege of their own; for
+they had, a few years before Godric's time, granted that hermitage
+to the monks of Whitby, who were not likely to allow a stranger to
+establish himself on their ground.
+
+About that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in the
+Middle Ages, in which the hermit appears as the protector of the
+hunted wild beast; a story, too, which was probably authentic, as
+the curious custom which was said to perpetuate its memory lasted at
+least till the year 1753.  I quote it at length from Burton's
+"Monasticon Eboracense," p. 78, knowing no other authority.
+
+"In the fifth year of the reign of King Henry II. after the conquest
+of England by William, duke of Normandy, the Lord of Uglebardby,
+then called William de Bruce, and the Lord of Sneton, called Ralph
+de Perci, with a gentleman and a freeholder called Allatson, did on
+the 16th day of October appoint to meet and hunt the wild boar, in a
+certain wood or desert place belonging to the abbot of the monastery
+of Whitby; the place's name is Eskdale-side; the abbot's name was
+Sedman.  Then these gentlemen being met, with their hounds and boar-
+staves, in the place before-named, and there having found a great
+wild boar, the hounds ran him well near about the chapel and
+hermitage of Eskdale-side, where was a monk of Whitby, who was a
+hermit.  The boar being very sore, and very hotly pursued, and dead
+run, took in at the chapel door, and there died:  whereupon the
+hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself within at
+his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay without.
+The gentlemen in the thick of the wood, being put behind their game,
+followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the hermitage,
+calling on the hermit, who opened the door and came forth, and
+within they found the boar lying dead, for which the gentlemen in
+very great fury (because their hounds were put from their game) did
+most violently and cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves,
+whereby he died soon after:  thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and
+knowing that they were in peril of death, took sanctuary at
+Scarborough.  But at that time the abbot, being in very great favour
+with King Henry, removed them out of the sanctuary, whereby they
+came in danger of the law, and not to be privileged, but likely to
+have the severity of the law, which was death.  But the hermit,
+being a holy and devout man, at the point of death sent for the
+abbot, and desired him to send for the gentlemen who had wounded
+him:  the abbot so doing, the gentlemen came, and the hermit, being
+very sick and weak, said unto them, 'I am sure to die of those
+wounds you have given me.'  The abbot answered, 'They shall as
+surely die for the same;' but the hermit answered, 'Not so, for I
+will freely forgive them my death, if they will be contented to be
+enjoined this penance for the safeguard of their souls.'  The
+gentlemen being present, and terrified with the fear of death, bade
+him enjoin what penance he would, so that he would but save their
+lives.  Then said the hermit, 'You and yours shall hold your lands
+of the Abbot of Whitby and his successors in this manner:  That upon
+Ascension Eve, you or some of you shall come to the woods of the
+Strag Heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same day at sun-rising,
+and there shall the abbot's officer blow his horn, to the intent
+that you may know how to find him; and he shall deliver unto you,
+William de Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strut-towers, and eleven
+yethers, to be cut by you or some for you, with a knife of one penny
+price; and you, Ralph de Perci, shall take twenty and one of each
+sort, to be cut in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall take
+nine of each sort, to be cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your
+backs, and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before
+nine of the clock the same day before-mentioned; at the same hour of
+nine of the clock (if it be full sea) your labour or service shall
+cease; but if it be not full sea, each of you shall set your stakes
+at the brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so yether them
+on each side of your yethers, and so stake on each side with your
+strut-towers, that they may stand three tides without removing by
+the force thereof:  each of you shall do, make, and execute the said
+service at that very hour every year, except it shall be full sea at
+that hour:  but when it shall so fall out, this service shall cease.
+You shall faithfully do this in remembrance that you did most
+cruelly slay me; and that you may the better call to God for mercy,
+repent unfeignedly for your sins, and do good works, the officers of
+Eskdale-side shall blow, Out on you, out on you, out on you, for
+this heinous crime.  If you or your successors shall refuse this
+service, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour,
+you or yours shall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, or his
+successors.  This I intreat, and earnestly beg that you may have
+lives and goods preserved for this service; and I request of you to
+promise by your parts in heaven that it shall be done by you and
+your successors, as it is aforesaid requested, and I will confirm it
+by the faith of an honest man.'  Then the hermit said:  'My soul
+longeth for the Lord, and I do as freely forgive these men my death
+as Christ forgave the thieves upon the cross;' and in the presence
+of the abbot and the rest he said, moreover, these words:  'Into thy
+hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit, for from the bonds of death Thou
+hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth.  Amen.'  So he yielded up the
+ghost the eighth day of December, A.D. 1160, upon whose soul God
+have mercy.  Amen."
+
+
+
+ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED
+
+
+
+The fertile and peaceable lowlands of England, as I have just said,
+offered few spots sufficiently wild and lonely for the habitation of
+a hermit; those, therefore, who wished to retire from the world into
+a more strict and solitary life than that which the monastery
+afforded were in the habit of immuring themselves, as anchorites, or
+in old English "Ankers," in little cells of stone, built usually
+against the wall of a church.  There is nothing new under the sun;
+and similar anchorites might have been seen in Egypt, 500 years
+before the time of St. Antony, immured in cells in the temples of
+Isis or Serapis.  It is only recently that antiquaries have
+discovered how common this practice was in England, and how
+frequently the traces of these cells are to be found about our
+parish churches.  They were so common in the Diocese of Lincoln in
+the thirteenth century, that in 1233 the archdeacon is ordered to
+inquire whether any Anchorites' cells had been built without the
+Bishop's leave; and in many of our parish churches may be seen,
+either on the north or the south side of the chancel, a narrow slit
+in the wall, or one of the lights of a window prolonged downwards,
+the prolongation, if not now walled up, being closed with a shutter.
+Through these apertures the "incluse," or anker, watched the
+celebration of mass, and partook of the Holy Communion.  Similar
+cells were to be found in Ireland, at least in the diocese of
+Ossory; and doubtless in Scotland also.  Ducange, in his Glossary,
+on the word "inclusi," lays down rules for the size of the anker's
+cell, which must be twelve feet square, with three windows, one
+opening into the church, one for taking in his food, and one for
+light; and the "Salisbury Manual" as well as the "Pontifical" of
+Lacy, bishop of Exeter, in the first half of the fifteenth century,
+contains a regular "service" for the walling in of an anchorite.
+{330}  There exists too a most singular and painful book, well known
+to antiquaries, but to them alone, "The Ancren Riwle," addressed to
+three young ladies who had immured themselves (seemingly about the
+beginning of the thirteenth century) at Kingston Tarrant, in
+Dorsetshire.
+
+For women as well as men entered these living tombs; and there spent
+their days in dirt and starvation, and such prayer and meditation
+doubtless as the stupified and worn-out intellect could compass;
+their only recreation being the gossip of the neighbouring women,
+who came to peep in through the little window--a recreation in which
+(if we are to believe the author of "The Ancren Riwle") they were
+tempted to indulge only too freely; till the window of the recluse's
+cell, he says, became what the smith's forge or the alehouse has
+become since--the place where all the gossip and scandal of the
+village passed from one ear to another.  But we must not believe
+such scandals of all.  Only too much in earnest must those seven
+young maidens have been, whom St. Gilbert of Sempringham persuaded
+to immure themselves, as a sacrifice acceptable to God, in a den
+along the north wall of his church; or that St. Hutta, or Huetta, in
+the beginning of the thirteenth century, who after ministering to
+lepers, and longing and even trying to become a leper herself,
+immured herself for life in a cell against the church of Huy near
+Liege.
+
+Fearful must have been the fate of these incluses if any evil had
+befallen the building of which (one may say) they had become a part.
+More than one in the stormy Middle Age may have suffered the fate of
+the poor women immured beside St. Mary's church at Mantes, who, when
+town and church were burnt by William the Conqueror, unable to
+escape (or, according to William of Malmesbury, thinking it unlawful
+to quit their cells even in that extremity), perished in the flames;
+and so consummated once and for all their long martyrdom.
+
+How long the practice of the hermit life was common in these islands
+is more than my learning enables me to say.  Hermits seem, from the
+old Chartularies, {331} to have been not unfrequent in Scotland and
+the North of England during the whole Middle Age.  We have seen that
+they were frequent in the times of Malcolm Canmore and the old
+Celtic Church; and the Latin Church, which was introduced by St.
+Margaret, seems to have kept up the fashion.  In the middle of the
+thirteenth century, David de Haigh conveyed to the monks of Cupar
+the hermitage which Gilmichael the Hermit once held, with three
+acres of land.  In 1329 the Convent of Durham made a grant of a
+hermitage to Roger Eller at Norham on the Tweed, in order that he
+might have a "fit place to fight with the old enemy and bewail his
+sins, apart from the turmoil of men."  In 1445 James the Second,
+king of Scots, granted to John Smith the hermitage in the forest of
+Kilgur, "which formerly belonged in heritage to Hugh Cominch the
+Hermit, and was resigned by him, with the croft and the green
+belonging to it, and three acres of arable land."
+
+I have quoted these few instances, to show how long the custom
+lingered; and doubtless hermits were to be found in the remoter
+parts of these realms when the sudden tempest of the Reformation
+swept away alike the palace of the rich abbot and the cell of the
+poor recluse, and exterminated throughout England the ascetic life.
+The two last hermits whom I have come across in history are both
+figures which exemplify very well those times of corruption and of
+change.  At Loretto (not in Italy, but in Musselburgh, near
+Edinburgh) there lived a hermit who pretended to work miracles, and
+who it seems had charge of some image of "Our Lady of Loretto."  The
+scandals which ensued from the visits of young folks to this hermit
+roused the wrath of that terrible scourge of monks, Sir David
+Lindsay of the Mount:  yet as late as 1536, James the Fifth of
+Scotland made a pilgrimage from Stirling to the shrine, in order to
+procure a propitious passage to France in search of a wife.  But in
+1543, Lord Hertford, during his destructive voyage to the Forth,
+destroyed, with other objects of greater consequence, the chapel of
+the "Lady of Lorett," which was not likely in those days to be
+rebuilt; and so the hermit of Musselburgh vanishes from history.
+
+A few years before, in 1537, says Mr. Froude, {333} while the
+harbours, piers, and fortresses were rising in Dover, "an ancient
+hermit tottered night after night from his cell to a chapel on the
+cliff, and the tapers on the altar before which he knelt in his
+lonely orisons made a familiar beacon far over the rolling waters.
+The men of the rising world cared little for the sentiment of the
+past.  The anchorite was told sternly by the workmen that his light
+was a signal to the King's enemies" (a Spanish invasion from
+Flanders was expected), "and must burn no more; and, when it was
+next seen, three of them waylaid the old man on his way home, threw
+him down and beat him cruelly."
+
+So ended, in an undignified way, as worn-out institutions are wont
+to end, the hermit life in the British Isles.  Will it ever
+reappear?  Who can tell?  To an age of luxury and unbelief has
+succeeded, more than once in history, an age of remorse and
+superstition.  Gay gentlemen and gay ladies may renounce the world,
+as they did in the time of St Jerome, when the world is ready to
+renounce them.  We have already our nunneries, our monasteries, of
+more creeds than one; and the mountains of Kerry, or the pine
+forests of the Highlands, may some day once more hold hermits,
+persuading themselves to believe, and at last succeeding in
+believing, the teaching of St. Antony, instead of that of our Lord
+Jesus Christ, and of that Father of the spirits of all flesh, who
+made love, and marriage, and little children, sunshine and flowers,
+the wings of butterflies and the song of birds; who rejoices in his
+own works, and bids all who truly reverence him rejoice in them with
+him.  The fancy may seem impossible.  It is not more impossible than
+many religious phenomena seemed forty years ago, which are now no
+fancies, but powerful facts.
+
+The following books should be consulted by those who wish to follow
+out this curious subject in detail:--
+
+The "Vitae Patrum Eremiticorum."
+
+The "Acta Sanctorum."  The Bollandists are, of course, almost
+exhaustive of any subject on which they treat.  But as they are
+difficult to find, save in a few public libraries, the "Acta
+Sanctorum" of Surius, or of Aloysius Lipommasius, may be profitably
+consulted.  Butler's "Lives of the Saints" is a book common enough,
+but of no great value.
+
+M. de Montalembert's "Moines d'Occident," and Ozanam's "Etudes
+Germaniques," may be read with much profit.
+
+Dr. Reeves' edition of Adamnan's "Life of St. Columba," published by
+the Irish Archaeological and Celtic Society, is a treasury of
+learning, which needs no praise of mine.
+
+The lives of St. Cuthbert and St. Godric may be found among the
+publications of the Surtees Society.
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+{12}  About A.D. 368.  See the details in Ammianus Marcellinus, lib.
+xxviii.
+
+{15}  In the Celtic Irish Church, there seems to have been no other
+pattern.  The hermits who became abbots, with their monks, were the
+only teachers of the people--one had almost said, the only
+Christians.  Whence, as early as the sixth century, if not the
+fifth, they, and their disciples of Iona and Scotland, derived their
+peculiar tonsure, their use of bells, their Eastern mode of keeping
+the Paschal feast, and other peculiarities, seemingly without the
+intervention of Rome, is a mystery still unsolved.
+
+{17a}  A book which, from its bearing on present problems, well
+deserves translation.
+
+{17b}  "Vitae Patrum."  Published at Antwerp, 1628.
+
+{23}  He is addressing our Lord.
+
+{24}  "Agentes in rebus."  On the Emperor's staff?
+
+{27}  St. Augustine says, that Potitianus's adventure at Treves
+happened "I know not when."  His own conversation with Potitianus
+must have happened about A.D. 385, for he was baptized April 25,
+A.D. 387.  He does not mention the name of Potitianus's emperor:
+but as Gratian was Augustus from A.D. 367 to A.D. 375, and actual
+Emperor of the West till A.D. 383, and as Treves was his usual
+residence, he is most probably the person meant:  but if not, then
+his father Valentinian.
+
+{29}  See the excellent article on Gratian in Smith's Dictionary, by
+Mr. Means.
+
+{30}  I cannot explain this fact:  but I have seen it with my own
+eyes.
+
+{32}  I use throughout the text published by Heschelius, in 1611.
+
+{33}  He is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in
+Middle Egypt, A.D. 251.
+
+{34}  Seemingly the Greek language and literature.
+
+{35}  I have thought it more honest to translate [Greek text] by
+"training," which is now, as then, its true equivalent; being a
+metaphor drawn from the Greek games by St. Paul, 1 Tim. iv. 8.
+
+{41}  I give this passage as it stands in the Greek version.  In the
+Latin, attributed to Evagrius, it is even more extravagant and
+rhetorical.
+
+{42}  Surely the imagery painted on the inner walls of Egyptian
+tombs, and probably believed by Antony and his compeers to be
+connected with devil-worship, explain these visions.  In the "Words
+of the Elders" a monk complains of being troubled with "pictures,
+old and new."  Probably, again, the pain which Antony felt was the
+agony of a fever; and the visions which he saw, its delirium.
+
+{44}  Here is an instance of the original use of the word
+"monastery," viz. a cell in which a single person dwelt.
+
+{45}  An allusion to the heathen mysteries.
+
+{49}  A.D. 311.  Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was
+Daza) had been a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius
+Valerius Maximianus; and rose, like him, through the various grades
+of the army to be co-Emperor of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia
+Minor; a furious persecutor of the Christians, and a brutal and
+profligate tyrant.  Such were the "kings of the world" from whom
+those old monks fled.
+
+{52a}  The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile.  "Below
+the cliffs, beside the sea," as one describes them.
+
+{52b}  Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah,
+between the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony's monks endure to
+this day.
+
+{60}  This most famous monastery, i.e. collection of monks' cells,
+in Egypt is situate forty miles from Alexandria, on a hill where
+nitre was gathered.  The hospitality and virtue of its inmates are
+much praised by Ruffinus and Palladius.  They were, nevertheless,
+the chief agents in the fanatical murder of Hypatia.
+
+{65}  It appears from this and many other passages, that extempore
+prayer was usual among these monks, as it was afterwards among the
+Puritans (who have copied them in so many other things), whenever a
+godly man visited them.
+
+{66a}  Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure
+schism calling itself the "Church of the Martyrs," which refused to
+communicate with the rest of the Eastern Church.  See Smith's
+"Dictionary," on the word "Meletius."
+
+{66b}  Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was
+Athanasius, the writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of
+God was not co-equal and co-eternal with the Father, but created by
+Him out of nothing, and before the world.  His opinions were
+condemned in the famous Council of Nicaea, A.D. 325.
+
+{67}  If St. Antony could use so extreme an argument against the
+Arians, what would he have said to the Mariolatry which sprang up
+after his death?
+
+{68a}  I.e. those who were still heathens.
+
+{68b}  [Greek text].  The Christian priest is always called in this
+work simply [Greek text], or elder.
+
+{72a}  Probably that of A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia,
+nominated by the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of
+Antioch, expelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great
+violence was committed by his followers and by Philagrius the
+Prefect.  Athanasius meanwhile fled to Rome.
+
+{72b}  I.e. celebrated there their own Communion.
+
+{77}  Evidently the primaeval custom of embalming the dead, and
+keeping mummies in the house, still lingered among the Egyptians.
+
+{108}  These sounds, like those which St. Guthlac heard in the
+English fens, are plainly those of wild-fowl.
+
+{115}  The Brucheion, with its palaces and museum, the residence of
+the kings and philosophers of Egypt, had been destroyed is the days
+of Claudius and Valerian, during the senseless civil wars which
+devastated Alexandria for twelve years; and monks had probably taken
+up their abode in the ruins.  It was in this quarter, at the
+beginning of the next century, that Hypatia was murdered by the
+monks.
+
+{116}  Probably the Northern, or Lesser Oasis, Ouah el Baharieh,
+about eighty miles west of the Nile.
+
+{117a}  Jerome (who sailed that sea several times) uses the word
+here, as it is used in Acts xxvii. 27, for the sea about Malta,
+"driven up and down in Adria."
+
+{117b}  The southern point of Sicily, now Cape Passaro.
+
+{118}  In the Morea, near the modern Navarino.
+
+{119a}  At the mouth of the Bay of Cattaro.
+
+{119b}  This story--whatever belief we may give to its details--is
+one of many which make it tolerably certain that a large snake
+(Python) still lingered in Eastern Europe.  Huge tame snakes were
+kept as sacred by the Macedonian women; and one of them (according
+to Lucian) Peregrinus Proteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitted
+with a linen mask, and made it personate the god AEsculapius.  In
+the "Historia Lausiaca," cap. lii. is an account by an eye-witness
+of a large snake in the Thebaid, whose track was "as if a beam had
+been dragged along the sand."  It terrifies the Syrian monks:  but
+the Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying that he had seen
+much larger--even up to fifteen cubits.
+
+{121}  Now Capo St. Angelo and the island of Cerigo, at the southern
+point of Greece.
+
+{123a}  See p. 52.  [Around footnote 52a in the text--DP.]
+
+{123b}  Probably dedicated to the Paphian Venus.
+
+{130}  The lives of these two hermits and that of St. Cuthbert will
+be given in a future number.
+
+{131}  Sihor, the black river, was the ancient name of the Nile,
+derived from the dark hue of its waters.
+
+{159}  Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv. cap. 9.
+
+{160}  By Dr. Burgess.
+
+{163}  History of Christianity, vol. iii. p. 109.
+
+{203}  An authentic fact.
+
+{204}  If any one doubts this, let him try the game called "Russian
+scandal," where a story, passed secretly from mouth to mouth, ends
+utterly transformed, the original point being lost, a new point
+substituted, original names and facts omitted, and utterly new ones
+inserted, &c. &c.; an experiment which is ludicrous, or saddening,
+according to the temper of the experimenter.
+
+{209}  Les Moines d'Occident, vol. ii. pp. 332-467.
+
+{210}  M. La Borderie, "Discours sur les Saints Bretons;" a work
+which I have unfortunately not been able to consult.
+
+{212a}  Vitae Patrum, p. 753.
+
+{212b}  Ibid. p. 893.
+
+{212c}  Ibid. p. 539.
+
+{212d}  Ibid. p. 540.
+
+{212e}  Ibid. p. 532.
+
+{224}  It has been handed down, in most crabbed Latin, by his
+disciple, Eugippius; it may be read at length in Pez, Scriptores
+Austriacarum Rerum.
+
+{238}  Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.
+
+{245}  Haeften, quoted by Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.
+
+{256}  Dr. Reeves supposes these to have been "crustacea:" but their
+stinging and clinging prove them surely to have been jelly-fish--
+medusae.
+
+{257}  I have followed the Latin prose version of it, which M.
+Achille Jubinal attributes to the eleventh century.  Here and there
+I have taken the liberty of using the French prose version, which he
+attributes to the latter part of the twelfth.  I have often
+condensed the story, where it was prolix or repeated itself:  but I
+have tried to follow faithfully both matter and style, and to give,
+word for word, as nearly as I could, any notable passages.  Those
+who wish to know more of St. Brendan should consult the learned
+brochure of M. Jubinal, "La Legende Latine de St. Brandaines," and
+the two English versions of the Legend, edited by Mr. Thomas Wright
+for the Percy Society, vol. xiv.  One is in verse, and of the
+earlier part of the fourteenth century, and spirited enough:  the
+other, a prose version, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in his
+edition of the "Golden Legend;" 1527.
+
+{260a}  In the Barony of Longford, County Galway.
+
+{260b}  3,000, like 300, seems to be, I am informed, only an Irish
+expression for any large number.
+
+{269}  Some dim legend concerning icebergs, and caves therein.
+
+{270}  Probably from reports of the volcanic coast of Iceland.
+
+{272}  This part of the legend has been changed and humanized as
+time ran on.  In the Latin and French versions it has little or no
+point or moral.  In the English, Judas accounts for the presence of
+the cloth thus:--
+
+"Here I may see what it is to give other men's (goods) with harm.
+As will many rich men with unright all day take,
+Of poor men here and there, and almisse (alms) sithhe (afterwards)
+make."
+
+For the tongs and the stone he accounts by saying that, as he used
+them for "good ends, each thing should surely find him which he did
+for God's love."
+
+But in "the prose version of Wynkyn de Worde, the tongs have been
+changed into "ox-tongues," "which I gave some tyme to two preestes
+to praye for me.  I bought them with myne owne money, and therefore
+they ease me, bycause the fysshes of the sea gnaw on them, and spare
+me."
+
+This latter story of the ox-tongues has been followed by Mr.
+Sebastian Evans, in his poem on St. Brendan.  Both he and Mr.
+Matthew Arnold have rendered the moral of the English version very
+beautifully.
+
+{274}  Copied, surely, from the life of Paul the first hermit.
+
+{283}  The famous Cathach, now in the museum of the Royal Irish
+Academy, was long popularly believed to be the very Psalter in
+question.  As a relic of St. Columba it was carried to battle by the
+O'Donnels, even as late as 1497, to insure victory for the clan.
+
+{290}  Bede, book iii. cap. 3.
+
+{292}  These details, and countless stories of St. Cuthbert's
+miracles, are to be found in Reginald of Durham, "De Admirandis
+Beati Cuthberti," published by the Surtees Society.  This curious
+book is admirably edited by Mr. J. Raine; with an English synopsis
+at the end, which enables the reader for whom the Latin is too
+difficult to enjoy those pictures of life under Stephen and Henry
+II., whether moral, religious, or social, of which the book is a
+rich museum.
+
+{299}  "In this hole lie the bones of the Venerable Bede."
+
+{303}  An English translation of the Anglo-Saxon life has been
+published by Mr. Godwin, of Cambridge, and is well worth perusal.
+
+{312}  Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332, 333.
+
+{316}  The earlier one; that of the Harleian MSS. which (Mr.
+Stevenson thinks) was twice afterwards expanded and decorated by
+him.
+
+{323}  Reginald wants to make "a wonder incredible in our own
+times," of a very common form (thank God) of peaceful death.  He
+makes miracles in the same way of the catching of salmon and of
+otters, simple enough to one who, like Godric, knew the river, and
+every wild thing which haunted it.
+
+{330}  That of the Salisbury Manual is published in the
+"Ecclesiologist" for August 1848, by the Rev. Sir W. H. Cope, to
+whom I am indebted for the greater number of these curious facts.
+
+{331}  I owe these facts to the courtesy of Mr. John Stuart, of the
+General Register Office, Edinburgh.
+
+{333}  "History of England," vol. iii. p. 256, note.
+
+
+
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html
+     PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+     "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
+<html>
+<head>
+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>The Hermits</title>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
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+Title: The Hermits
+
+Author: Charles Kingsley
+
+Release Date: August, 2005  [EBook #8733]
+[This file was first posted on August 5, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h1>THE HERMITS</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>St. Paphnutius used to tell a story which may serve as a fit introduction
+to this book.&nbsp; It contains a miniature sketch, not only of the
+social state of Egypt, but of the whole Roman Empire, and of the causes
+which led to the famous monastic movement in the beginning of the fifth
+century after Christ.</p>
+<p>Now Paphnutius was a wise and holy hermit, the Father, Abba, or Abbot
+of many monks; and after he had trained himself in the desert with all
+severity for many years, he besought God to show him which of His saints
+he was like.</p>
+<p>And it was said to him, &ldquo;Thou art like a certain flute-player
+in the city.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Paphnutius took his staff, and went into the city, and found
+that flute-player.&nbsp; But he confessed that he was a drunkard and
+a profligate, and had till lately got his living by robbery, and recollected
+not having ever done one good deed.&nbsp; Nevertheless, when Paphnutius
+questioned him more closely, he said that he recollected once having
+found a holy maiden beset by robbers, and having delivered her, and
+brought her safe to town.&nbsp; And when Paphnutius questioned him more
+closely still, he said he recollected having done another deed.&nbsp;
+When he was a robber, he met once in the desert a beautiful woman; and
+she prayed him to do her no harm, but to take her away with him as a
+slave, whither he would; for, said she, &ldquo;I am fleeing from the
+apparitors and the Governor&rsquo;s curials for the last two years.&nbsp;
+My husband has been imprisoned for 300 pieces of gold, which he owes
+as arrears of taxes; and has been often hung up, and often scourged;
+and my three dear boys have been taken from me; and I am wandering from
+place to place, and have been often caught myself and continually scourged;
+and now I have been in the desert three days without food.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And when the robber heard that, he took pity on her, and took her
+to his cave, and gave her 300 pieces of gold, and went with her to the
+city, and set her husband and her boys free.</p>
+<p>Then Paphnutius said, &ldquo;I never did a deed like that: and yet
+I have not passed my life in ease and idleness.&nbsp; But now, my son,
+since God hath had such care of thee, have a care for thine own self.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And when the musician heard that, he threw away the flutes which
+he held in his hand, and went with Paphnutius into the desert, and passed
+his life in hymns and prayer, changing his earthly music into heavenly;
+and after three years he went to heaven, and was at rest among the choirs
+of angels, and the ranks of the just.</p>
+<p>This story, as I said, is a miniature sketch of the state of the
+whole Roman Empire, and of the causes why men fled from it into the
+desert.&nbsp; Christianity had reformed the morals of individuals; it
+had not reformed the Empire itself.&nbsp; That had sunk into a state
+only to be compared with the worst despotisms of the East.&nbsp; The
+Emperors, whether or not they called themselves Christian, like Constantine,
+knew no law save the basest maxims of the heathen world.&nbsp; Several
+of them were barbarians who had risen from the lowest rank merely by
+military prowess; and who, half maddened by their sudden elevation,
+added to their native ignorance and brutality the pride, cunning, and
+cruelty of an Eastern Sultan.&nbsp; Rival Emperors, or Generals who
+aspired to be Emperors, devastated the world from Egypt to Britain by
+sanguinary civil wars.&nbsp; The government of the provinces had become
+altogether military.&nbsp; Torture was employed, not merely, as of old,
+against slaves, but against all ranks, without distinction.&nbsp; The
+people were exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent in wars which
+did not concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had no share.&nbsp;
+In the municipal towns, liberty and justice were dead.&nbsp; The curials,
+who answered somewhat to our aldermen, and who were responsible for
+the payment of the public moneys, tried their best to escape the unpopular
+office, and, when compelled to serve, wrung the money in self-defence
+out of the poorer inhabitants by every kind of tyranny.&nbsp; The land
+was tilled either by oppressed and miserable peasants, or by gangs of
+slaves, in comparison with whose lot that even of the American negro
+was light.&nbsp; The great were served in their own households by crowds
+of slaves, better fed, doubtless, but even more miserable and degraded,
+than those who tilled the estates.&nbsp; Private profligacy among all
+ranks was such as cannot be described in these or in any modern pages.&nbsp;
+The regular clergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and
+for the most part, in accordance with public opinion, unmarried, were
+able to make no stand against the general corruption of the age, because&mdash;at
+least if we are to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom&mdash;they
+were giving themselves up to ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury,
+intrigue and party spirit, and had become the flatterers of fine ladies,
+&ldquo;silly women laden with sins, ever learning, and never coming
+to the knowledge of the truth.&rdquo;&nbsp; Such a state of things not
+only drove poor creatures into the desert, like that fair woman whom
+the robber met, but it raised up bands of robbers over the whole of
+Europe, Africa, and the East,&mdash;men who, like Robin Hood and the
+outlaws of the Middle Age, getting no justice from man, broke loose
+from society, and while they plundered their oppressors, kept up some
+sort of rude justice and humanity among themselves.&nbsp; Many, too,
+fled, and became robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which
+carried off from every province the flower of the young men, to shed
+their blood on foreign battle-fields.&nbsp; In time, too, many of these
+conscripts became monks, and the great monasteries of Scetis and Nitria
+were hunted over again and again by officers and soldiers from the neighbouring
+city of Alexandria in search of young men who had entered the &ldquo;spiritual
+warfare&rdquo; to escape the earthly one.&nbsp; And as a background
+to all this seething heap of decay, misrule, and misery, hung the black
+cloud of the barbarians, the Teutonic tribes from whom we derive the
+best part of our blood, ever coming nearer and nearer, waxing stronger
+and stronger, learning discipline and civilization by serving in the
+Roman armies, alternately the allies and the enemies of the Emperors,
+rising, some of them, to the highest offices of State, and destined,
+so the wisest Romans saw all the more clearly as the years rolled on,
+to be soon the conquerors of the C&aelig;sars, and the masters of the
+Western world.</p>
+<p>No wonder if that, in such a state of things, there arose such violent
+contrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric protests against the
+general wickedness, as may be seen in the figure of Abbot Paphnutius,
+when compared either with the poor man tortured in prison for his arrears
+of taxes, or with the Governor and the officials who tortured him.&nbsp;
+No wonder if, in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred
+by a passion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of
+suicide.&nbsp; It would have ended often, but for Christianity, in such
+an actual despair as that which had led in past ages more than one noble
+Roman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic.&nbsp;
+Christianity taught those who despaired of society, of the world&mdash;in
+one word, of the Roman Empire, and all that it had done for men&mdash;to
+hope at least for a kingdom of God after death.&nbsp; It taught those
+who, had they been heathens and brave enough, would have slain themselves
+to escape out of a world which was no place for honest men, that the
+body must be kept alive, if for no other reason, at least for the sake
+of the immortal soul, doomed, according to its works, to endless bliss
+or endless torment.</p>
+<p>But that the world&mdash;such, at least, as they saw it then&mdash;was
+doomed, Scripture and their own reason taught them.&nbsp; They did not
+merely believe, but see, in the misery and confusion, the desolation
+and degradation around them, that all that was in the world, the lust
+of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, was not of
+the Father, but of the world; that the world was passing away, and the
+lust thereof, and that only he who did the will of God could abide for
+ever.&nbsp; They did not merely believe, but saw, that the wrath of
+God was revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness of men; and
+that the world in general&mdash;above all, its kings and rulers, the
+rich and luxurious&mdash;were treasuring up for themselves wrath, tribulation,
+and anguish, against a day of wrath and revelation of the righteous
+judgment of God, who would render to every man according to his works.</p>
+<p>That they were correct in their judgment of the world about them,
+contemporary history proves abundantly.&nbsp; That they were correct,
+likewise, in believing that some fearful judgment was about to fall
+on man, is proved by the fact that it did fall; that the first half
+of the fifth century saw, not only the sack of Rome, but the conquest
+and desolation of the greater part of the civilized world, amid bloodshed,
+misery, and misrule, which seemed to turn Europe into a chaos,&mdash;which
+would have turned it into a chaos, had there not been a few men left
+who still felt it possible and necessary to believe in God and to work
+righteousness.</p>
+<p>Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed
+world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save
+each man his own soul in that dread day.</p>
+<p>Others, not Christians, had done the same before them.&nbsp; Among
+all the Eastern nations men had appeared, from time to time, to whom
+the things seen were but a passing phantom, the things unseen the only
+true and eternal realities; who, tormented alike by the awfulness of
+the infinite unknown, and by the petty cares and low passions of the
+finite mortal life which they knew but too well, had determined to renounce
+the latter, that they might give themselves up to solving the riddle
+of the former; and be at peace; and free, at least, from the tyranny
+of their own selves.&nbsp; Eight hundred years before St. Antony fled
+into the desert, that young Hindoo rajah, whom men call Buddha now,
+had fled into the forest, leaving wives and kingdom, to find rest for
+his soul.&nbsp; He denounced caste; he preached poverty, asceticism,
+self-annihilation.&nbsp; He founded a religion, like that of the old
+hermits, democratic and ascetic, with its convents, saint-worships,
+pilgrimages, miraculous relics, rosaries, and much more, which strangely
+anticipates the monastic religion; and his followers, to this day, are
+more numerous than those of any other creed.</p>
+<p>Brahmins, too, had given themselves up to penance and mortification
+till they believed themselves able, like Kehama, to have gained by self-torture
+the right to command, not nature merely, but the gods themselves.&nbsp;
+Among the Jews the Essenes by the Dead Sea, and the Therapeut&aelig;
+in Egypt, had formed ascetic communities, the former more &ldquo;practical,&rdquo;
+the latter more &ldquo;contemplative:&rdquo; but both alike agreed in
+the purpose of escaping from the world into a life of poverty and simplicity,
+piety and virtue; and among the countless philosophic sects of Asia,
+known to ecclesiastical writers as &ldquo;heretics,&rdquo; more than
+one had professed, and doubtless often practised, the same abstraction
+from the world, the same contempt of the flesh.&nbsp; The very Neo-Platonists
+of Alexandria, while they derided the Christian asceticism, found themselves
+forced to affect, like the hapless Hypatia, a sentimental and pharisaic
+asceticism of their own.&nbsp; This phase of sight and feeling, so strange
+to us now, was common, nay, prim&aelig;val, among the Easterns.&nbsp;
+The day was come when it should pass from the East into the West.&nbsp;
+And Egypt, &ldquo;the mother of wonders;&rdquo; the parent of so much
+civilization and philosophy both Greek and Roman; the half-way resting-place
+through which not merely the merchandise, but the wisdom of the East
+had for centuries passed into the Roman Empire; a land more ill-governed,
+too, and more miserable, in spite of its fertility, because more defenceless
+and effeminate, than most other Roman possessions&mdash;was the country
+in which naturally, and as it were of hereditary right, such a movement
+would first appear.</p>
+<p>Accordingly it was discovered, about the end of the fourth century,
+that the mountains and deserts of Egypt were full of Christian men who
+had fled out of the dying world, in the hope of attaining everlasting
+life.&nbsp; Wonderful things were told of their courage, their abstinence,
+their miracles: and of their virtues also; of their purity, their humility,
+their helpfulness, and charity to each other and to all.&nbsp; They
+called each other, it was said, brothers; and they lived up to that
+sacred name, forgotten, if ever known, by the rest of the Roman Empire.&nbsp;
+Like the Apostolic Christians in the first fervour of their conversion,
+they had all things in common; they lived at peace with each other,
+under a mild and charitable rule; and kept literally those commands
+of Christ which all the rest of the world explained away to nothing.</p>
+<p>The news spread.&nbsp; It chimed in with all that was best, as well
+as with much that was questionable, in the public mind.&nbsp; That men
+could be brothers; that they could live without the tawdry luxury, the
+tasteless and often brutal amusements, the low sensuality, the base
+intrigue, the bloody warfare, which was the accepted lot of the many;
+that they could find time to look stedfastly at heaven and hell as awful
+realities, which must be faced some day, which had best be faced at
+once; this, just as much as curiosity about their alleged miracles,
+and the selfish longing to rival them in superhuman powers, led many
+of the most virtuous and the most learned men of the time to visit them,
+and ascertain the truth.&nbsp; Jerome, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Sulpicius
+Severus, went to see them, undergoing on the way the severest toils
+and dangers, and brought back reports of mingled truth and falsehood,
+specimens of which will be seen in these pages.&nbsp; Travelling in
+those days was a labour, if not of necessity, then surely of love.&nbsp;
+Palladius, for instance, found it impossible to visit the Upper Thebaid,
+and Syene, and that &ldquo;infinite multitude of monks, whose fashions
+of life no one would believe, for they surpass human life; who to this
+day raise the dead, and walk upon the waters, like Peter; and whatsoever
+the Saviour did by the holy Apostles, He does now by them.&nbsp; But
+because it would be very dangerous if we went beyond Lyco&rdquo; (Lycopolis?),
+on account of the inroad of robbers, he &ldquo;could not see those saints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The holy men and women of whom he wrote, he says, he did not see
+without extreme toil; and seven times he and his companions were nearly
+lost.&nbsp; Once they walked through the desert five days and nights,
+and were almost worn out by hunger and thirst.&nbsp; Again, they fell
+on rough marshes, where the sedge pierced their feet, and caused intolerable
+pain, while they were almost killed with the cold.&nbsp; Another time,
+they stuck in the mud up to their waists, and cried with David, &ldquo;I
+am come into deep mire, where no ground is.&rdquo;&nbsp; Another time,
+they waded for four days through the flood of the Nile by paths almost
+swept away.&nbsp; Another time they met robbers on the seashore, coming
+to Diolcos, and were chased by them for ten miles.&nbsp; Another time
+they were all but upset and drowned in crossing the Nile.&nbsp; Another
+time, in the marshes of Mareotis, &ldquo;where paper grows,&rdquo; they
+were cast on a little desert island, and remained three days and nights
+in the open air, amid great cold and showers, for it was the season
+of Epiphany.&nbsp; The eighth peril, he says, is hardly worth mentioning&mdash;but
+once, when they went to Nitria, they came on a great hollow, in which
+many crocodiles had remained, when the waters retired from the fields.&nbsp;
+Three of them lay along the bank; and the monks went up to them, thinking
+them dead, whereon the crocodiles rushed at them.&nbsp; But when they
+called loudly on the Lord, &ldquo;the monsters, as if turned away by
+an angel,&rdquo; shot themselves into the water; while they ran on to
+Nitria, meditating on the words of Job, &ldquo;Seven times shall He
+deliver thee from trouble; and in the eighth there shall no evil touch
+thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The great St. Athanasius, fleeing from persecution, had taken refuge
+among these monks.&nbsp; He carried the report of their virtues to Tr&ecirc;ves
+in Gaul, and wrote a life of St. Antony, the perusal of which was a
+main agent in the conversion of St. Augustine.&nbsp; Hilarion (a remarkable
+personage, whose history will be told hereafter) carried their report
+and their example likewise into Palestine; and from that time Jud&aelig;a,
+desolate and seemingly accursed by the sin of the Jewish people, became
+once more the Holy Land; the place of pilgrimage; whose ruins, whose
+very soil, were kept sacred by hermits, the guardians of the footsteps
+of Christ.</p>
+<p>In Rome itself the news produced an effect which, to the thoughtful
+mind, is altogether tragical in its nobleness.&nbsp; The Roman aristocracy
+was deprived of all political power; it had been decimated, too, with
+horrible cruelty only one generation before, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12">{12}</a>
+by Valentinian and his satellites, on the charges of profligacy, treason,
+and magic.&nbsp; Mere rich men, they still lingered on, in idleness
+and luxury, without art, science, true civilization of any kind; followed
+by long trains of slaves; punishing a servant with three hundred stripes
+if he were too long in bringing hot water; weighing the fish, or birds,
+or dormice put on their tables, while secretaries stood by, with tablets
+to record all; hating learning as they hated poison; indulging at the
+baths in conduct which had best be left undescribed; and &ldquo;complaining
+that they were not born among the Cimmerians, if amid their golden fans
+a fly should perch upon the silken fringes, or a slender ray of the
+sun should pierce through the awning;&rdquo; while, if they &ldquo;go
+any distance to see their estates in the country, or to hunt at a meeting
+collected for their amusement by others, they think that they have equalled
+the marches of Alexander or of C&aelig;sar.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On the wives, widows, and daughters of men of this stamp&mdash;and
+not half their effeminacy and baseness, as the honest rough old soldier
+Ammianus Marcellinus describes it, has been told here&mdash;the news
+brought from Egypt worked with wondrous potency.</p>
+<p>Women of the highest rank awoke suddenly to the discovery that life
+was given them for nobler purposes than that of frivolous enjoyment
+and tawdry vanity.&nbsp; Despising themselves; despising the husbands
+to whom they had been wedded in loveless marriages <i>de convenance</i>,
+whose infidelities they had too often to endure: they, too, fled from
+a world which had sated and sickened them.&nbsp; They freed their slaves;
+they gave away their wealth to found hospitals and to feed the poor;
+and in voluntary poverty and mean garments they followed such men as
+Jerome and Ruffinus across the seas, to visit the new found saints of
+the Egyptian desert, and to end their days, in some cases, in doleful
+monasteries in Palestine.&nbsp; The lives of such women as those of
+the Anician house; the lives of Marcella and Furia, of Paula, of the
+Melanias, and the rest, it is not my task to write.&nbsp; They must
+be told by a woman, not by a man.&nbsp; We may blame those ladies, if
+we will, for neglecting their duties.&nbsp; We may sneer, if we will,
+at the weaknesses&mdash;the aristocratic pride, the spiritual vanity&mdash;which
+we fancy that we discover.&nbsp; We may lament&mdash;and in that we
+shall not be wrong&mdash;the influence which such men as Jerome obtained
+over them&mdash;the example and precursor of so much which has since
+then been ruinous to family and social life: but we must confess that
+the fault lay not with the themselves, but with their fathers, husbands,
+and brothers; we must confess that in these women the spirit of the
+old Roman matrons, which seemed to have been so long dead, flashed up
+for one splendid moment, ere it sunk into the darkness of the Middle
+Age; that in them woman asserted (however strangely and fantastically)
+her moral equality with man; and that at the very moment when monasticism
+was consigning her to contempt, almost to abhorrence, as &ldquo;the
+noxious animal,&rdquo; the &ldquo;fragile vessel,&rdquo; the cause of
+man&rsquo;s fall at first, and of his sin and misery ever since, woman
+showed the monk (to his na&iuml;vely-confessed surprise), that she could
+dare, and suffer, and adore as well as he.</p>
+<p>But the movement, having once seized the Roman Empire, grew and spread
+irresistibly.&nbsp; It was accepted, supported, preached, practised,
+by every great man of the time.&nbsp; Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom,
+Gregory of Nazianzen in the East, Jerome, Augustine, Ruffinus, Evagrius,
+Fulgentius, Sulpicius Severus, Vincent of Lerins, John Cassian, Martin
+of Tours, Salvian, C&aelig;sarius of Arles, were all monks, or as much
+of monks as their duties would allow them to be.&nbsp; Ambrose of Milan,
+though no monk himself, was the fervent preacher of, the careful legislator
+for, monasticism male and female.&nbsp; Throughout the whole Roman Empire,
+in the course of a century, had spread hermits (or dwellers in the desert),
+anchorites (retired from the world), or monks (dwellers alone).&nbsp;
+The three names grew afterwards to designate three different orders
+of ascetics.&nbsp; The hermits remained through the Middle Ages those
+who dwelt in deserts; the anchorites, or &ldquo;ankers&rdquo; of the
+English Middle Age, seem generally to have inhabited cells built in,
+or near, the church walls; the name of &ldquo;monks&rdquo; was transferred
+from those who dwelt alone to those who dwelt in regular communities,
+under a fixed government.&nbsp; But the three names at first were interchangeable;
+the three modes of life alternated, often in the same man.&nbsp; The
+life of all three was the same,&mdash;celibacy, poverty, good deeds
+towards their fellow-men; self-restraint, and sometimes self-torture
+of every kind, to atone (as far as might be) for the sins committed
+after baptism: and the mental food of all three was the same likewise;
+continued meditation upon the vanity of the world, the sinfulness of
+the flesh, the glories of heaven, and the horrors of hell: but with
+these the old hermits combined&mdash;to do them justice&mdash;a personal
+faith in God, and a personal love for Christ, which those who sneer
+at them would do well to copy.</p>
+<p>Over all Europe, even to Ireland, <a name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15">{15}</a>
+the same pattern of Christian excellence repeated itself with strange
+regularity, till it became the only received pattern; and to &ldquo;enter
+religion,&rdquo; or &ldquo;be converted,&rdquo; meant simply to become
+a monk.</p>
+<p>Of the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few specimens
+are given in this volume.&nbsp; If they shall seem to any reader uncouth,
+or even absurd, he must remember that they are the only existing and
+the generally contemporaneous histories of men who exercised for 1,300
+years an enormous influence over the whole of Christendom; who exercise
+a vast influence over the greater part of it to this day.&nbsp; They
+are the biographies of men who were regarded, during their lives and
+after their deaths, as divine and inspired prophets; and who were worshipped
+with boundless trust and admiration by millions of human beings.&nbsp;
+Their fame and power were not created by the priesthood.&nbsp; The priesthood
+rather leant on them, than they on it.&nbsp; They occupied a post analogous
+to that of the old Jewish prophets; always independent of, sometimes
+opposed to, the regular clergy; and dependent altogether on public opinion
+and the suffrage of the multitude.&nbsp; When Christianity, after three
+centuries of repression and persecution, emerged triumphant as the creed
+of the whole civilized world, it had become what their lives describe.&nbsp;
+The model of religious life for the fifth century, it remained a model
+for succeeding centuries; on the lives of St. Antony and his compeers
+were founded the whole literature of saintly biographies; the whole
+popular conception of the universe, and of man&rsquo;s relation to it;
+the whole science of d&aelig;monology, with its peculiar literature,
+its peculiar system of criminal jurisprudence.&nbsp; And their influence
+did not cease at the Reformation among Protestant divines.&nbsp; The
+influence of these Lives of the Hermit Fathers is as much traceable,
+even to style and language, in &ldquo;The Pilgrim&rsquo;s Progress&rdquo;
+as in the last Papal Allocution.&nbsp; The great hermits of Egypt were
+not merely the founders of that vast monastic system which influenced
+the whole politics, and wars, and social life, as well as the whole
+religion, of the Middle Age; they were a school of philosophers (as
+they rightly called themselves) who altered the whole current of human
+thought.</p>
+<p>Those who wish for a general notion of the men, and of their time,
+will find all that they require (set forth from different points of
+view, though with the same honesty and learning) in Gibbon; in M. de
+Montalembert&rsquo;s &ldquo;Moines d&rsquo;Occident,&rdquo; in Dean
+Milman&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of Christianity&rdquo; and &ldquo;Latin
+Christianity,&rdquo; and in Ozanam&rsquo;s &ldquo;Etudes Germaniques.&rdquo;
+<a name="citation17a"></a><a href="#footnote17a">{17a}</a>&nbsp; But
+the truest notion of the men is to be got, after all, from the original
+documents; and especially from that curious collection of them by the
+Jesuit Rosweyde, commonly known as the &ldquo;Lives of the Hermit Fathers.&rdquo;
+<a name="citation17b"></a><a href="#footnote17b">{17b}</a></p>
+<p>After an acquaintance of now five-and-twenty years with this wonderful
+treasury of early Christian mythology, to which all fairy tales are
+dull and meagre, I am almost inclined to sympathise with M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+questions,&mdash;&ldquo;Who is so ignorant, or so unfortunate, as not
+to have devoured these tales of the heroic age of monachism?&nbsp; Who
+has not contemplated, if not with the eyes of faith, at least with the
+admiration inspired by an incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles
+of these athletes of penitence? . . . .&nbsp; Everything is to be found
+there&mdash;variety, pathos, the sublime and simple epic of a race of
+men, <i>na&iuml;fs</i> as children, and strong as giants.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+In whatever else one may differ from M. de Montalembert&mdash;and it
+is always painful to differ from one whose pen has been always the faithful
+servant of virtue and piety, purity and chivalry, loyalty and liberty,
+and whose generous appreciation of England and the English is the more
+honourable to him, by reason of an utter divergence in opinion, which
+in less wide and noble spirits produces only antipathy&mdash;one must
+at least agree with him in his estimate of the importance of these &ldquo;Lives
+of the Fathers,&rdquo; not only to the ecclesiologist, but to the psychologist
+and the historian.&nbsp; Their influence, subtle, often transformed
+and modified again and again, but still potent from its very subtleness,
+is being felt around us in many a puzzle&mdash;educational, social,
+political; and promises to be felt still more during the coming generation;
+and to have studied thoroughly one of them&mdash;say the life of St.
+Antony by St. Athanasius&mdash;is to have had in our hands (whether
+we knew it or not) the key to many a lock, which just now refuses either
+to be tampered with or burst open.</p>
+<p>I have determined, therefore, to give a few of these lives, translated
+as literally as possible.&nbsp; Thus the reader will then have no reason
+to fear a garbled or partial account of personages so difficult to conceive
+or understand.&nbsp; He will be able to see the men as wholes; to judge
+(according to his light) of their merits and their defects.&nbsp; The
+very style of their biographers (which is copied as literally as is
+compatible with the English tongue) will teach him, if he be wise, somewhat
+of the temper and habits of thought of the age in which they lived;
+and one of these original documents, with its honesty, its vivid touches
+of contemporary manners, its intense earnestness, will give, perhaps,
+a more true picture of the whole hermit movement than (with all respect,
+be it said) the most brilliant general panorama.</p>
+<p>It is impossible to give in this series all the lives of the early
+hermits&mdash;even of those contained in Rosweyde.&nbsp; This volume
+will contain, therefore, only the most important and most famous lives
+of the Egyptian, Syrian, and Persian hermits, followed, perhaps, by
+a few later biographies from Western Europe, as proofs that the hermit-type,
+as it spread toward the Atlantic, remained still the same as in the
+Egyptian desert.</p>
+<p>Against one modern mistake the reader must be warned; the theory,
+namely, that these biographies were written as religious romances; edifying,
+but not historical; to be admired, but not believed.&nbsp; There is
+not the slightest evidence that such was the case.&nbsp; The lives of
+these, and most other saints (certainly those in this volume), were
+written by men who believed the stories themselves, after such inquiry
+into the facts as they deemed necessary; who knew that others would
+believe them; and who intended that they should do so; and the stones
+were believed accordingly, and taken as matter of fact for the most
+practical purposes by the whole of Christendom.&nbsp; The forging of
+miracles, like the forging of charters, for the honour of a particular
+shrine, or the advantage of a particular monastery, belongs to a much
+later and much worse age; and, whatsoever we may think of the taste
+of the authors of these lives, or of their faculty for judging of evidence,
+we must at least give them credit for being earnest men, incapable of
+what would have been in their eyes, and ought to be in ours, not merely
+falsehood, but impiety.&nbsp; Let the reader be sure of this&mdash;that
+these documents would not have exercised their enormous influence on
+the human mind, had there not been in them, under whatever accidents
+of credulity, and even absurdity, an element of sincerity, virtue, and
+nobility.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>SAINT ANTONY</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The life of Antony, by Athanasius, is perhaps the most important
+of all these biographies; because first, Antony was generally held to
+be the first great example and preacher of the hermit life; because
+next, Athanasius, his biographer, having by his controversial writings
+established the orthodox faith as it is now held alike by Romanists,
+Greeks, and Protestants, did, by his publication of the life of Antony,
+establish the hermit life as the ideal (in his opinion) of Christian
+excellence; and lastly, because that biography exercised a most potent
+influence on the conversion of St. Augustine, the greatest thinker (always
+excepting St. Paul) whom the world had seen since Plato, whom the world
+was to see again till Lord Bacon; the theologian and philosopher (for
+he was the latter, as well as the former, in the strictest sense) to
+whom the world owes, not only the formulizing of the whole scheme of
+the universe for a thousand years after his death, but Calvinism (wrongly
+so called) in all its forms, whether held by the Augustinian party in
+the Church of Rome, or the &ldquo;Reformed&rdquo; Churches of Geneva,
+France, and Scotland.</p>
+<p>Whether we have the exact text of the document as Athanasius wrote
+it to the &ldquo;Foreign Brethren&rdquo;&mdash;probably the religious
+folk of Tr&ecirc;ves&mdash;in the Greek version published by Heschelius
+in 1611, and in certain earlier Greek texts; whether the Latin translation
+attributed to Evagrius, which has been well known for centuries past
+in the Latin Church, be actually his; whether it be exactly that of
+which St. Jerome speaks, and whether it be exactly that which St. Augustine
+saw, are questions which it is now impossible to decide.&nbsp; But of
+the genuineness of the life in its entirety we have no right to doubt,
+contrary to the verdicts of the most distinguished scholars, whether
+Protestant or Catholic; and there is fair reason to suppose that the
+document (allowing for errors and variations of transcribers) which
+I have tried to translate, is that of which the great St. Augustine
+speaks in the eighth book of his Confessions.</p>
+<p>He tells us that he was reclaimed at last from a profligate life
+(the thought of honourable marriage seems never to have entered his
+mind), by meeting, while practising as a rhetorician at Tr&ecirc;ves,
+an old African acquaintance, named Potitanius, an officer of rank.&nbsp;
+What followed no words can express so well as those of the great genius
+himself.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When I told him that I was giving much attention to those
+writings (the Epistles of Paul), we began to talk, and he to tell, of
+Antony, the monk of Egypt, whose name was then very famous among thy
+servants: <a name="citation23"></a><a href="#footnote23">{23}</a> but
+was unknown to us till that moment.&nbsp; When he discovered that, he
+spent some time over the subject, detailing his virtues, and wondering
+at our ignorance.&nbsp; We were astounded at hearing such well-attested
+marvels of him, so recent and almost contemporaneous, wrought in the
+right faith of the Catholic Church.&nbsp; We all wondered: we, that
+they were so great; and he, that we had not heard of them.&nbsp; Thence
+his discourse ran on to those flocks of hermit-cells, and the morals
+of thy sweetness, and the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which
+we knew nought.&nbsp; There was a monastery, too, at Milan, full of
+good brethren, outside the city walls, under the tutelage of Ambrosius,
+and we knew nothing of it.&nbsp; He went on still speaking, and we listened
+intently; and it befell that he told us how, I know not when, he and
+three of his mess companions at Tr&ecirc;ves, while the emperor was
+engaged in an afternoon spectacle in the circus, went out for a walk
+in the gardens round the walls; and as they walked there in pairs, one
+with him alone, and the two others by themselves, they parted.&nbsp;
+And those two, straying about, burst into a cottage, where dwelt certain
+servants of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the kingdom of heaven;
+and there found a book, in which was written the life of Antony.&nbsp;
+One of them began to read it, and to wonder, and to be warned; and,
+as he read, to think of taking up such a life, and leaving the warfare
+of this world to serve thee.&nbsp; Now, he was one of those whom they
+call Managers of Affairs. <a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24">{24}</a>&nbsp;
+Then, suddenly filled with holy love and sober shame, angered at himself,
+he cast his eyes on his friend, and said, &lsquo;Tell me, prithee, with
+all these labours of ours, whither are we trying to get?&nbsp; What
+are we seeking?&nbsp; For what are we soldiering?&nbsp; Can we have
+a higher hope in the palace, than to become friends of the emperor?&nbsp;
+And when there, what is not frail and full of dangers?&nbsp; And through
+how many dangers we do not arrive at a greater danger still?&nbsp; And
+how long will that last?&nbsp; But if I choose to become a friend of
+God, I can do it here and now.&rsquo;&nbsp; He spoke thus, and, swelling
+in the labour-pangs of a new life, he fixed his eyes again on the pages
+and read, and was changed inwardly as thou lookedst on him, and his
+mind was stripped of the world, as soon appeared.&nbsp; For while he
+read, and rolled over the billows of his soul, he shuddered and hesitated
+from time to time, and resolved better things; and already thine, he
+said to his friend, &lsquo;I have already torn myself from that hope
+of ours, and have settled to serve God; and this I begin from this hour,
+in this very place.&nbsp; If you do not like to imitate me, do not oppose
+me.&rsquo;&nbsp; He replied that he would cling to his companion in
+such a great service and so great a warfare.&nbsp; And both, now thine,
+began building, at their own cost, the tower of leaving all things and
+following thee.&nbsp; Then Potitianus, and the man who was talking with
+him elsewhere in the garden, seeking them, came to the same place, and
+warned them to return, as the sun was getting low.&nbsp; They, however,
+told their resolution, and how it had sprung up and taken strong hold
+in them, and entreated the others not to give them pain.&nbsp; They,
+not altered from their former mode of life, yet wept (as he told us)
+for themselves; and congratulated them piously, and commended themselves
+to their prayers; and then dragging their hearts along the earth, went
+back to the palace.&nbsp; But the others, fixing their hearts on heaven,
+remained in the cottage.&nbsp; And both of them had affianced brides,
+who, when they heard this, dedicated their virginity to thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The part which this incident played in St. Augustine&rsquo;s own
+conversion must be told hereafter in his life.&nbsp; But the scene which
+his master-hand has drawn is not merely the drama of his own soul or
+of these two young officers, but of a whole empire.&nbsp; It is, as
+I said at first, the tragedy and suicide of the old empire; and the
+birth-agony of which he speaks was not that of an individual soul here
+or there, but of a whole new world, for good and evil.&nbsp; The old
+Roman soul was dead within, the body of it dead without.&nbsp; Patriotism,
+duty, purpose of life, save pleasure, money, and intrigue, had perished.&nbsp;
+The young Roman officer had nothing left for which to fight; the young
+Roman gentleman nothing left for which to be a citizen and an owner
+of lands.&nbsp; Even the old Roman longing (which was also a sacred
+duty) of leaving an heir to perpetuate his name, and serve the state
+as his fathers had before him&mdash;even that was gone.&nbsp; Nothing
+was left, with the many, but selfishness, which could rise at best into
+the desire of saving every man his own soul, and so transform worldliness
+into other-worldliness.&nbsp; The old empire could do nothing more for
+man; and knew that it could do nothing; and lay down in the hermit&rsquo;s
+cell to die.</p>
+<p>Tr&ecirc;ves was then &ldquo;the second metropolis of the empire,&rdquo;
+boasting, perhaps, even then, as it boasts still, that it was standing
+thirteen hundred years before Rome was built.&nbsp; Amid the low hills,
+pierced by rocky dells, and on a strath of richest soil, it had grown,
+from the mud-hut town of the Treviri, into a noble city of palaces,
+theatres, baths, triumphal-arches, on either side the broad and clear
+Moselle.&nbsp; The bridge which Augustus had thrown across the river,
+four hundred years before the times of hermits and of saints, stood
+like a cliff through all barbarian invasions, through all the battles
+and sieges of the Middle Age, till it was blown up by the French in
+the wars of Louis XIV., and nought remains save the huge piers of black
+lava stemming the blue stream; while up and down the dwindled city,
+the colossal fragments of Roman work&mdash;the Black Gate, the Heidenthurm,
+the baths, the Basilica or Hall of Justice, now a Lutheran church&mdash;stand
+out half ruined, like the fossil bones of giants amid the works of weaker,
+though of happier times; while the amphitheatre was till late years
+planted thick with vines, fattening in soil drenched with the blood
+of thousands.&nbsp; Tr&ecirc;ves had been the haunt of emperor after
+emperor, men wise and strong, cruel and terrible;&mdash;of Constantius,
+Constantine the Great, Julian, Valentinian, Valens; and lastly, when
+Potitianus&rsquo;s friends found those poor monks in the garden <a name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27">{27}</a>
+of Gratian, the gentle hunter who thought day and night on sport, till
+his arrows were said to be instinct with life, was holding his military
+court within the walls of Tr&ecirc;ves, or at that hunting palace on
+the northern downs, where still on the bath-floors lie the mosaics of
+hare and deer, and boar and hound, on which the feet of Emperors trod
+full fifteen hundred years ago.</p>
+<p>Still glorious outwardly, like the Roman empire itself, was that
+great city of Tr&ecirc;ves; but inwardly it was full of rottenness and
+weakness.&nbsp; The Roman empire had been, in spite of all its crimes,
+for four hundred years the salt of the earth: but now the salt had lost
+its savour; and in one generation more it would be trodden under foot
+and cast upon the dunghill, and another empire would take its place,&mdash;the
+empire, not of brute strength and self-indulgence, but of sympathy and
+self-denial,&mdash;an empire, not of C&aelig;sars, but of hermits.&nbsp;
+Already was Gratian the friend and pupil of St. Ambrose of Milan; already,
+too, was he persecuting, though not to the death, heretics and heathens.&nbsp;
+Nay, some fifty years before (if the legend can be in the least trusted)
+had St. Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, returned from Palestine,
+bearing with her&mdash;so men believed&mdash;not only the miraculously
+discovered cross of Christ, but the seamless coat which he had worn;
+and, turning her palace into a church, deposited the holy coat therein:
+where&mdash;so some believe&mdash;it remains until this day.&nbsp; Men
+felt that a change was coming, but whence it would come, or how terrible
+it would be, they could not tell.&nbsp; It was to be, as the prophet
+says, &ldquo;like the bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth suddenly
+in an instant.&rdquo;&nbsp; In the very amphitheatre where Gratian sat
+that afternoon, with all the folk of Tr&ecirc;ves about him, watching,
+it may be, lions and antelopes from Africa slaughtered&mdash;it may
+be criminals tortured to death&mdash;another and an uglier sight had
+been twice seen some seventy years before.&nbsp; Constantine, so-called
+the Great, had there exhibited his &ldquo;Frankish sports,&rdquo; the
+&ldquo;magnificent spectacle,&rdquo; the &ldquo;famous punishments,&rdquo;
+as his flattering court-historians called them: thousands of Frank prisoners,
+many of them of noble, and even of royal blood, torn to pieces by wild
+beasts, while they stood fearless, smiling with folded arms; and when
+the wild beasts were gorged, and slew no more, weapons were put into
+the hands of the survivors, and they were bidden to fight to the death
+for the amusement of their Roman lords.&nbsp; But fight they would not
+against their own flesh and blood: and as for life, all chance of that
+was long gone by.&nbsp; So every man fell joyfully upon his brother&rsquo;s
+sword, and, dying like a German man, spoilt the sport of the good folk
+of Tr&ecirc;ves.&nbsp; And it seemed for a while as if there were no
+God in heaven who cared to avenge such deeds of blood.&nbsp; For the
+kinsmen, it may be the very sons, of those Franks were now in Gratian&rsquo;s
+pay; and the Frank Merobaudes was his &ldquo;Count of the Domestics,&rdquo;
+and one of his most successful and trusted generals; and all seemed
+to go well, and brute force and craft to triumph on the earth.</p>
+<p>And yet those two young staff officers, when they left the imperial
+court for the hermit&rsquo;s cell, judged, on the whole, prudently and
+well, and chose the better part when they fled from the world to escape
+the &ldquo;dangers&rdquo; of ambition, and the &ldquo;greater danger
+still&rdquo; of success.&nbsp; For they escaped, not merely from vice
+and worldliness, but, as the event proved, from imminent danger of death
+if they kept the loyalty which they had sworn to their emperor; or the
+worse evil of baseness if they turned traitors to him to save their
+lives.</p>
+<p>For little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre, that
+the day was coming when he, the hunter of game&mdash;and of heretics&mdash;would
+be hunted in his turn; when, deserted by his army, betrayed by Merobaudes&mdash;whose
+elder kinsfolk were not likely to have kept him ignorant of &ldquo;the
+Frankish sports &ldquo;&mdash;he should flee pitiably towards Italy,
+and die by a German hand; some say near Lyons, some say near Belgrade,
+calling on Ambrose with his latest breath. <a name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29">{29}</a>&nbsp;
+Little thought, too, the good folk of Tr&ecirc;ves, as they sat beneath
+the vast awning that afternoon, that within the next half century a
+day of vengeance was coming for them, which should teach them that there
+was a God who &ldquo;maketh inquisition for blood;&rdquo; a day when
+Tr&ecirc;ves should be sacked in blood and flame by those very &ldquo;barbarian&rdquo;
+Germans whom they fancied their allies&mdash;or their slaves.&nbsp;
+And least of all did they fancy that, when that great destruction fell
+upon their city, the only element in it which would pass safely through
+the fire and rise again, and raise their city to new glory and power,
+was that which was represented by those poor hermits in the garden-hut
+outside.&nbsp; Little thought they that above the awful arches of the
+Black Gate&mdash;as if in mockery of the Roman Power&mdash;a lean anchorite
+would take his stand, Simeon of Syracuse by name, a monk of Mount Sinai,
+and there imitate, in the far West, the austerities of St. Simeon Stylites
+in the East, and be enrolled in the new Pantheon, not of C&aelig;sars,
+but of Saints.</p>
+<p>Under the supposed patronage of those Saints, Tr&ecirc;ves rose again
+out of its ruins.&nbsp; It gained its four great abbeys of St. Maximus
+(on the site of Constantine&rsquo;s palace); St. Matthias, in the crypt
+whereof the bodies of the monks never decay; <a name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30">{30}</a>
+St. Martin; and St. Mary of the Four Martyrs, where four soldiers of
+the famous Theban legion are said to have suffered martyrdom by the
+house of the Roman prefect.&nbsp; It had its cathedral of St. Peter
+and St. Helena, supposed to be built out of St. Helena&rsquo;s palace;
+its exquisite Liebfrauenkirche; its palace of the old Archbishops, mighty
+potentates of this world, as well as of the kingdom of heaven.&nbsp;
+For they were princes, arch-chancellors, electors of the empire, owning
+many a league of fertile land, governing, and that kindly and justly,
+towns and villages of Christian men, and now and then going out to war,
+at the head of their own knights and yeomen, in defence of their lands,
+and of the saints whose servants and trustees they were; and so became,
+according to their light and their means, the salt of that land for
+many generations.</p>
+<p>And after a while that salt, too, lost its savour, and was, in its
+turn, trodden under foot.&nbsp; The French republican wars swept away
+the ecclesiastical constitution and the wealth of the ancient city.&nbsp;
+The cathedral and churches were stripped of relics, of jewels, of treasures
+of early art.&nbsp; The Prince-bishop&rsquo;s palace is a barrack; so
+was lately St. Maximus&rsquo;s shrine; St. Martin&rsquo;s a china manufactory,
+and St. Matthias&rsquo;s a school.&nbsp; Tr&ecirc;ves belongs to Prussia,
+and not to &ldquo;Holy Church;&rdquo; and all the old splendours of
+the &ldquo;empire of the saints&rdquo; are almost as much ruinate as
+those of the &ldquo;empire of the Romans.&rdquo;&nbsp; So goes the world,
+because there is a living God.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;The old order changeth, giving place to the new;<br />And
+God fulfils himself in many ways,<br />Lest one good custom should corrupt
+the world.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>But though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens outside
+still bloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered through them,
+perpetual as Nature&rsquo;s self; and perpetual as Nature, too, endures
+whatever is good and true of that afternoon&rsquo;s work, and of that
+finding of the legend of St. Antony in the monk&rsquo;s cabin, which
+fixed the destiny of the great genius of the Latin Church.</p>
+<p>The story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, <a name="citation32"></a><a href="#footnote32">{32}</a>
+runs thus:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written and
+sent to the monks in foreign parts by our Father among the saints, Athanasius,
+Archbishop of Alexandria.</p>
+<p>You have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having determined
+either to equal or even to surpass them in your training towards virtue;
+for there are monasteries already among you, and the monastic life is
+practised.&nbsp; This purpose of yours one may justly praise; and if
+you pray, God will bring it to perfection.&nbsp; But since you have
+also asked me about the conversation of the holy Antony, wishing to
+learn how he began his training, and who he was before it, and what
+sort of an end he made to his life, and whether what is said of him
+is true, in order that you may bring yourselves to emulate him, with
+great readiness I received your command.&nbsp; For to me, too, it is
+a great gain and benefit only to remember Antony; and I know that you,
+when you hear of him, after you have wondered at the man, will wish
+also to emulate his purpose.&nbsp; For the life of Antony is for monks
+a perfect pattern of ascetic training.&nbsp; What, then, you have heard
+about him from other informants do not disbelieve, but rather think
+that you have heard from them a small part of the facts.&nbsp; For in
+any case, they could hardly relate fully such great matters, when even
+I, at your request, howsoever much I may tell you in my letter, can
+only send you a little which I remember about him.&nbsp; But do not
+cease to inquire of those who sail from hence; for perhaps, if each
+tells what he knows, at last his history may be worthily compiled.&nbsp;
+I had wished, indeed, when I received your letter, to send for some
+of the monks who were wont to be most frequently in his company, that
+I might learn something more, and send you a fuller account.&nbsp; But
+since both the season of navigation limited me, and the letter-carrier
+was in haste, I hastened to write to your piety what I myself know (for
+I have often seen him), and what I was able to learn from one who followed
+him for no short time, and poured water upon his hands; always taking
+care of the truth, in order that no one when he hears too much may disbelieve,
+nor again, if he learns less than is needful, despise the man.</p>
+<p>Antony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, <a name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33">{33}</a>
+who had a sufficient property of their own: and as they were Christians,
+he too was Christianly brought up, and when a boy was nourished in the
+house of his parents, besides whom and his home he knew nought.&nbsp;
+But when he grew older, he would not be taught letters, <a name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34">{34}</a>
+not wishing to mix with other boys; but all his longing was (according
+to what is written of Jacob) to dwell simply in his own house.&nbsp;
+But when his parents took him into the Lord&rsquo;s house, he was not
+saucy, like a boy, nor inattentive as he grew older; but was subject
+to his parents, and attentive to what was read, turning it to his own
+account.&nbsp; Nor again (as a boy who was moderately well off) did
+he trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties, nor did he
+run after the pleasures of this life; but was content with what he found,
+and asked for nothing more.&nbsp; When his parents died, he was left
+alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or twenty years
+of age, and took care both of his house and of her.&nbsp; But not six
+months after their death, as he was going as usual to the Lord&rsquo;s
+house, and collecting his thoughts, he meditated as he walked how the
+Apostles had left all and followed the Saviour; and how those in the
+Acts brought the price of what they had sold, and laid it at the Apostles&rsquo;
+feet, to be given away to the poor; and what and how great a hope was
+laid up for them in heaven.&nbsp; With this in his mind, he entered
+the church.&nbsp; And it befell then that the Gospel was being read;
+and he heard how the Lord had said to the rich man, &ldquo;If thou wilt
+be perfect, go, sell all thou hast, and give to the poor; and come,
+follow me, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.&rdquo;&nbsp; Antony,
+therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints had come to him from
+God, and as if the lesson had been read on his account, went forth at
+once from the Lord&rsquo;s house, and gave away to those of his own
+village the possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three hundred
+plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that they might give no trouble
+either to him or his sister.&nbsp; All his moveables he sold, and a
+considerable sum which he received for them he gave to the poor.&nbsp;
+But having kept back a little for his sister, when he went again into
+the Lord&rsquo;s house he heard the Lord saying in the Gospel, &ldquo;Take
+no thought for the morrow,&rdquo; and, unable to endure any more delay,
+he went out and distributed that too to the needy.&nbsp; And having
+committed his sister to known and faithful virgins, and given to her
+wherewith to be educated in a nunnery, he himself thenceforth devoted
+himself, outside his house, to training; <a name="citation35"></a><a href="#footnote35">{35}</a>
+taking heed to himself, and using himself severely.&nbsp; For monasteries
+were not then common in Egypt, nor did any monks at all know the wide
+desert; but each who wished to take heed to himself exercised himself
+alone, not far from his own village.&nbsp; There was then in the next
+village an old man, who had trained himself in a solitary life from
+his youth.&nbsp; When Antony saw him, he emulated him in that which
+is noble.&nbsp; And first he began to stay outside the village; and
+then, if he heard of any earnest man, he went to seek him, like a wise
+bee; and did not return till he had seen him, and having got from him
+(as it were) provision for his journey toward virtue, went his way.&nbsp;
+So dwelling there at first, he settled his mind neither to look back
+towards his parents&rsquo; wealth nor to recollect his relations; but
+he put all his longing and all his earnestness on training himself more
+intensely.&nbsp; For the rest he worked with his hands, because he had
+heard, &ldquo;If any man will not work, neither let him eat;&rdquo;
+and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some on the needy.&nbsp;
+He prayed continually, because he knew that one ought to pray secretly,
+without ceasing.&nbsp; He attended, also, so much to what was read,
+that, with him, none of the Scriptures fell to the ground, but he retained
+them all, and for the future his memory served him instead of books.&nbsp;
+Behaving thus, Antony was beloved by all; and submitted truly to the
+earnest men to whom he used to go.&nbsp; And from each of them he learnt
+some improvement in his earnestness and his training: he contemplated
+the courtesy of one, and another&rsquo;s assiduity in prayer; another&rsquo;s
+freedom from anger; another&rsquo;s love of mankind: he took heed to
+one as he watched; to another as he studied: one he admired for his
+endurance, another for his fasting and sleeping on the ground; he laid
+to heart the meekness of one, and the long-suffering of another; and
+stamped upon his memory the devotion to Christ and the mutual love which
+all in common possessed.&nbsp; And thus filled full, he returned to
+his own place of training, gathering to himself what he had got from
+each, and striving to show all their qualities in himself.&nbsp; He
+never emulated those of his own age, save in what is best; and did that
+so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice over him.&nbsp; And all in
+the village who loved good, seeing him thus, called him the friend of
+God; and some embraced him as a son, some as a brother.</p>
+<p>But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure
+such a purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all that he is
+wont to do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care for
+his sister, relation to his kindred, love of money, love of glory, the
+various pleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of life; and then
+the harshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the weakness of his
+body, and the length of time; and altogether raised a great dust-cloud
+of arguments in his mind, trying to turn him back from his righteous
+choice.&nbsp; But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony&rsquo;s
+determination, but rather baffled by his stoutness, and overthrown by
+his great faith, and falling before his continual prayers, then he attacked
+him with the temptations which he is wont to use against young men;
+. . . . but he protected his body with faith, prayers, and fastings,
+. . . setting his thoughts on Christ, and on his own nobility through
+Christ, and on the rational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on
+the terrors of the fire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus
+escaped unhurt.&nbsp; And thus was the enemy brought to shame.&nbsp;
+For he who thought himself to be equal with God was now mocked by a
+youth; and he who boasted against flesh and blood was defeated by a
+man clothed in flesh.&nbsp; For the Lord worked with him, who bore flesh
+on our account, and gave to the body victory over the devil, that each
+man in his battle may say, &ldquo;Not I, but the grace of God which
+is with me.&rdquo;&nbsp; At last, when the dragon could not overthrow
+Antony even thus, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then gnashing
+his teeth (as is written), and as if beside himself, he appeared to
+the sight, as he is to the reason, as a black child, and as it were
+falling down before him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver
+was cast out), but using a human voice, said, &ldquo;I have deceived
+many; I have cast down many.&nbsp; But now, as in the case of many,
+so in thine, I have been worsted in the battle.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then when
+Antony asked him, &ldquo;Who art thou who speakest thus to me?&rdquo;
+he forthwith replied in a pitiable voice, &ldquo;I am the spirit of
+impurity.&rdquo;. . .</p>
+<p>Then Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said, &ldquo;Thou
+art utterly despicable; for thou art black of soul, and weak as a child;
+nor shall I henceforth cast one thought on thee.&nbsp; For the Lord
+is my helper, and I shall despise my enemies.&rdquo;&nbsp; That black
+being, hearing this, fled forthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid
+thenceforth of coming near the man.</p>
+<p>This was Antony&rsquo;s first struggle against the devil: or rather
+this mighty deed in him was the Saviour&rsquo;s, who condemned sin in
+the flesh that the righteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in
+us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.&nbsp; But neither
+did Antony, because the d&aelig;mon had fallen, grow careless and despise
+him; neither did the enemy, when worsted by him, cease from lying in
+ambush against him.&nbsp; For he came round again as a lion, seeking
+a pretence against him.&nbsp; But Antony had learnt from Scripture that
+many are the devices of the enemy; and continually kept up his training,
+considering that, though he had not deceived his heart by pleasure,
+he would try some other snares.&nbsp; For the d&aelig;mon delights in
+sin.&nbsp; Therefore he chastised his body more and more, and brought
+it into slavery, lest, having conquered in one case, he should be tripped
+up in others.&nbsp; He determined, therefore, to accustom himself to
+a still more severe life; and many wondered at him: but the labour was
+to him easy to bear.&nbsp; For the readiness of the spirit, through
+long usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking a very
+slight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.&nbsp; For
+he watched so much, that he often passed the whole night without sleep;
+and that not once, but often, to the astonishment of men.&nbsp; He ate
+once a day, after the setting of the sun, and sometimes only once in
+two days, often even in four; his food was bread with salt, his drink
+nothing but water.&nbsp; To speak of flesh and wine there is no need,
+for such a thing is not found among other earnest men.&nbsp; When he
+slept he was content with a rush-mat: but mostly he lay on the bare
+ground.&nbsp; He would not anoint himself with oil, saying that it was
+more fit for young men to be earnest in training, than to seek things
+which softened the body; and that they must accustom themselves to labour,
+according to the Apostle&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;When I am weak, then
+I am strong;&rdquo; for that the mind was strengthened as bodily pleasure
+was weakened.&nbsp; And this argument of his was truly wonderful.&nbsp;
+For he did not measure the path of virtue, nor his going away into retirement
+on account of it, by time; but by his own desire and will.&nbsp; So
+forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning afresh, took more pains
+to improve, saying over to himself continually the Apostle&rsquo;s words,
+&ldquo;Forgetting what is behind, stretching forward to what is before;&rdquo;
+and mindful, too, of Elias&rsquo; speech, &ldquo;The Lord liveth, before
+whom I stand this day.&rdquo;&nbsp; For he held, that by mentioning
+to-day, he took no account of past time: but, as if he were laying down
+a beginning, he tried earnestly to make himself day by day fit to appear
+before God, pure in heart, and ready to obey his will, and no other.&nbsp;
+And he said in himself that the ascetic ought for ever to be learning
+his own life from the manners of the great Elias, as from a mirror.&nbsp;
+Antony, having thus, as it were, bound himself, went to the tombs, which
+happened to be some way from the village; and having bidden one of his
+acquaintances to bring him bread at intervals of many days, he entered
+one of the tombs, and, shutting the door upon himself, remained there
+alone.&nbsp; But the enemy, not enduring that, but rather terrified
+lest in a little while he should fill the desert with his training,
+coming one night with a multitude of d&aelig;mons, beat him so much
+with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture.&nbsp; For he
+asserted that the pain was so great that no blows given by men could
+cause such agony.&nbsp; But by the providence of God (for the Lord does
+not overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance came,
+bringing him the loaves.&nbsp; And having opened the door, and seeing
+him lying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the Lord&rsquo;s
+house in the village, and laid him on the ground; and many of his kinsfolk
+and the villagers sat round him, as round a corpse.&nbsp; But about
+midnight, Antony coming to himself, and waking up, saw them all sleeping,
+and only his acquaintance awake, and, nodding to him to approach, begged
+him to carry him back to the tombs, without waking any one.&nbsp; When
+that was done, the doors were shut, and he remained as before, alone
+inside.&nbsp; And, because he could not stand on account of the d&aelig;mons&rsquo;
+blows, he prayed prostrate.&nbsp; And after his prayer, he said with
+a shout, &ldquo;Here am I, Antony: I do not fly from your stripes; yea,
+if you do yet more, nothing shall separate me from the love of Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And then he sang, &ldquo;If an host be laid against me, yet shall not
+my heart be afraid.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus thought and spoke the man who
+was training himself.&nbsp; But the enemy, hater of what is noble, and
+envious, wondering that he dared to return after the stripes, called
+together his dogs, and bursting with rage,&mdash;&ldquo;Ye see,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;that we have not stopped this man by the spirit of impurity;
+nor by blows: but he is even growing bolder against us.&nbsp; Let us
+attack him some other way.&rdquo; <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41">{41}</a>&nbsp;
+For it is easy for the devil to invent schemes of mischief.&nbsp; So
+then in the night they made such a crash, that the whole place seemed
+shaken, and the d&aelig;mons, as if breaking in the four walls of the
+room, seemed to enter through them, changing themselves into the shapes
+of beasts and creeping things; <a name="citation42"></a><a href="#footnote42">{42}</a>
+and the place was forthwith filled with shapes of lions, bears, leopards,
+bulls, and snakes, asps, scorpions, and wolves, and each of them moved
+according to his own fashion.&nbsp; The lion roared, longing to attack;
+the bull seemed to toss; the serpent did not cease creeping, and the
+wolf rushed upon him; and altogether the noises of all the apparitions
+were dreadful, and their tempers cruel.&nbsp; But Antony, scourged and
+pierced by them, felt a more dreadful bodily pain than before: but he
+lay unshaken and awake in spirit.&nbsp; He groaned at the pain of his
+body: but clear in intellect, and as it were mocking, he said, &ldquo;If
+there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you should come
+on; but since the Lord has made you weak, therefore you try to frighten
+me by mere numbers.&nbsp; And a proof of your weakness is, that you
+imitate the shapes of brute animals.&rdquo;&nbsp; And taking courage,
+he said again, &ldquo;If ye can, and have received power against me,
+delay not, but attack; but if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain?&nbsp;
+For a seal to us and a wall of safety is our faith in the Lord.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The d&aelig;mons, having made many efforts, gnashed their teeth at him,
+because he rather mocked at them, than they at him.&nbsp; But neither
+then did the Lord forget Antony&rsquo;s wrestling, but appeared to help
+him.&nbsp; For, looking up, he saw the roof as it were opened and a
+ray of light coming down towards him.&nbsp; The d&aelig;mons suddenly
+became invisible, and the pain of his body forthwith ceased, and the
+building became quite whole.&nbsp; But Antony, feeling the succour,
+and getting his breath again, and freed from pain, questioned the vision
+which appeared, saying, &ldquo;Where wert thou?&nbsp; Why didst thou
+not appear to me from the first, to stop my pangs?&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+a voice came to him, &ldquo;Antony, I was here, but I waited to see
+thy fight.&nbsp; Therefore, since thou hast withstood, and not been
+worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and will make thee become
+famous everywhere.&rdquo;&nbsp; Hearing this, he rose and prayed, and
+was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his body than
+he had before.&nbsp; He was then about thirty-and-five years old.&nbsp;
+And on the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to
+God; and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with
+him in the desert.&nbsp; But when he declined, because of his age, and
+because no such custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set off
+to the mountain.&nbsp; But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness,
+and wishing to hinder it, cast in his way the phantom of a great silver
+plate.&nbsp; But Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates what
+is noble, stopped.&nbsp; And he judged the plate worthless, seeing the
+devil in it; and said, &ldquo;Whence comes a plate in the desert?&nbsp;
+This is no beaten way, nor is there here the footstep of any traveller.&nbsp;
+Had it fallen, it could not have been unperceived, from its great size;
+and besides, he who lost it would have turned back and found it, because
+the place is desert.&nbsp; This is a trick of the devil.&nbsp; Thou
+shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by this: let it go with thee
+into perdition.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as Antony said that, it vanished, as
+smoke from before the face of the fire.&nbsp; Then again he saw, not
+this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he came up.&nbsp;
+But whether the enemy showed it him, or whether some better power, which
+was trying the athlete, and showing the devil that he did not care for
+real wealth; neither did he tell, nor do we know, save that it was real
+gold.&nbsp; Antony, wondering at the abundance of it, so stepped over
+it as over fire, and so passed it by, that he never turned, but ran
+on in haste, until he had lost sight of the place.&nbsp; And growing
+even more and more intense in his determination, he rushed up the mountain,
+and finding an empty inclosure full of creeping things on account of
+its age, he betook himself across the river, and dwelt in it.&nbsp;
+The creeping things, as if pursued by some one, straightway left the
+place: but he blocked up the entry, having taken with him loaves for
+six months (for the Thebans do this, and they often remain a whole year
+fresh), and having water with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into
+that monastery, <a name="citation44"></a><a href="#footnote44">{44}</a>
+he remained alone, never going forth, and never looking at any one who
+came.&nbsp; Thus he passed a long time there training himself, and only
+twice a year received loaves, let down from above through the roof.&nbsp;
+But those of his acquaintance who came to him, as they often remained
+days and nights outside (for he did not allow any one to enter), used
+to hear as it were crowds inside clamouring, thundering, lamenting,
+crying&mdash;&ldquo;Depart from our ground.&nbsp; What dost thou even
+in the desert?&nbsp; Thou canst not abide our onset.&rdquo;&nbsp; At
+first those without thought that there were some men fighting with him,
+and that they had got in by ladders: but when, peeping in through a
+crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that they were d&aelig;mons,
+and being terrified, called themselves on Antony.&nbsp; But he rather
+listened to them than cared for the others.&nbsp; For his acquaintances
+came up continually, expecting to find him dead, and heard him singing,
+&ldquo;Let the Lord arise, and his enemies shall be scattered; and let
+them who hate him flee before him.&nbsp; As wax melts from before the
+face of the fire, so shall sinners perish from before the face of God.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And again, &ldquo;All nations compassed me round about, and in the name
+of the Lord I repelled them.&rdquo;&nbsp; He endured then for twenty
+years, thus training himself alone; neither going forth, nor seen by
+any one for long periods of time.&nbsp; But after this, when many longed
+for him, and wished to imitate his training, and others who knew him
+came, and were bursting in the door by force, Antony came forth as from
+some inner shrine, initiated into the mysteries, and bearing the God.
+<a name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45">{45}</a>&nbsp; And then
+first he appeared out of the inclosure to those who were coming to him.&nbsp;
+And when they saw him they wondered; for his body had kept the same
+habit, and had neither grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by
+fighting with the d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; For he was just such as they had
+known him before his retirement.&nbsp; They wondered again at the purity
+of his soul, because it was neither contracted as if by grief, nor relaxed
+by pleasure, nor possessed by laughter or by depression; for he was
+neither troubled at beholding the crowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted
+by too many; but was altogether equal, as being governed by reason,
+and standing on that which is according to nature.&nbsp; Many sufferers
+in body who were present did the Lord heal by him; and others he purged
+from d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; And he gave to Antony grace in speaking, so
+that he comforted many who grieved, and reconciled others who were at
+variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing in the world to the love of
+Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to be mindful of the good
+things to come, and of the love of God towards us, who spared not his
+own son, but delivered him up for us all.&nbsp; He persuaded many to
+choose the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells sprang up in the
+mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who went forth from
+their own, and registered themselves in the city which is in heaven.</p>
+<p>And when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the need was
+the superintendence of the brethren), the canal was full of crocodiles.&nbsp;
+And having only prayed, he entered it; and both he and all who were
+with him went through it unharmed.&nbsp; But when he returned to the
+cell, he persisted in the noble labours of his youth; and by continued
+exhortations he increased the willingness of those who were already
+monks, and stirred to love of training the greater number of the rest;
+and quickly, as his speech drew men on, the cells became more numerous;
+and he governed them all as a father.&nbsp; And when he had gone forth
+one day, and all the monks had come to him desiring to hear some word
+from him, he spake to them in the Egyptian tongue, thus&mdash;&ldquo;That
+the Scriptures were sufficient for instruction, but that it was good
+for us to exhort each other in the faith.&rdquo; . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the
+earliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science d&aelig;monology and
+the temptation of d&aelig;mons: but its involved and rhetorical form
+proves sufficiently that it could not have been delivered by an unlettered
+man like Antony.&nbsp; Neither is it, probably, even composed by St.
+Athanasius; it seems rather, like several other passages in this biography,
+the interpolation of some later scribe.&nbsp; It has been, therefore,
+omitted.]</p>
+<p>And when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the love
+of virtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up, and in others
+conceit stopped, while all were persuaded to despise the plots of the
+devil, wondering at the grace which had been given to Antony by the
+Lord for the discernment of spirits.&nbsp; So the cells in the mountains
+were like tents filled with divine choirs, singing, discoursing, fasting,
+praying, rejoicing over the hope of the future, working that they might
+give alms thereof, and having love and concord with each other.&nbsp;
+And there was really to be seen, as it were, a land by itself, of piety
+and justice; for there was none there who did wrong, or suffered wrong:
+no blame from any talebearer: but a multitude of men training themselves,
+and in all of them a mind set on virtue.&nbsp; So that any one seeing
+the cells, and such an array of monks, would have cried out, and said,
+&ldquo;How fair are thy dwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel;
+like shady groves and like parks beside a river, and like tents which
+the Lord hath pitched, and like cedars by the waters.&rdquo;&nbsp; He
+himself, meanwhile, withdrawing, according to his custom, alone to his
+own cell, increased the severity of his training.&nbsp; And he groaned
+daily, considering the mansions in heaven, and setting his longing on
+them, and looking at the ephemeral life of man.&nbsp; For even when
+he was going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he considered the
+rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was about to eat
+with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and declined,
+and went far away from them; thinking that he should blush if he was
+seen by others eating.&nbsp; He ate, nevertheless, by himself, on account
+of the necessities of the body; and often, too, with the brethren, being
+bashful with regard to them, but plucking up heart for the sake of saying
+something that might be useful; and used to tell them that they ought
+to give all their leisure rather to the soul than to the body; and that
+they should grant a very little time to the body, for mere necessity&rsquo;s
+sake: but that their whole leisure should be rather given to the soul,
+and should seek her profit, that she may not be drawn down by the pleasures
+of the body, but rather the body be led captive by her.&nbsp; For this
+(he said) was what was spoken by the Saviour, &ldquo;Be not anxious
+for your soul, what ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall put
+on.&nbsp; And seek not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither
+let your minds be in suspense: for after all these things the nations
+of the world seek: but your Father knoweth that ye need all these things.&nbsp;
+Rather seek first his kingdom; and all these things shall be added unto
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After these things, the persecution which happened under the Maximinus
+of that time, <a name="citation49"></a><a href="#footnote49">{49}</a>
+laid hold of the Church; and when the holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria,
+Antony too followed, leaving his cell, and saying, &ldquo;Let us depart
+too, that we may wrestle if we be called, or see them wrestling.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And he longed to be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to give himself
+up, he ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the prisons.&nbsp;
+And he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the readiness
+of those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and bring on
+their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to martyrdom.&nbsp;
+At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and earnestness of him and
+those who were with him, commanded that none of the monks should appear
+in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in the city.&nbsp; So all the
+rest thought good to hide themselves that day; but Antony cared so much
+for the order, that he all the rather washed his cloak, and stood next
+day upon a high place, and appeared to the General in shining white.&nbsp;
+Therefore, when all the rest wondered, and the General saw him, and
+passed by with his array, he stood fearless, showing forth the readiness
+of us Christians.&nbsp; For he himself prayed to be a martyr, as I have
+said, and was like one grieved, because he had not borne his witness.&nbsp;
+But the Lord was preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest,
+that he might become a teacher to many in the training which he had
+learnt from Scripture.&nbsp; For many, when they only saw his manner
+of life, were eager to emulate it.&nbsp; So he again ministered continually
+to the confessors; and, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his
+services.&nbsp; And when at last the persecution ceased, and the blessed
+Bishop Peter had been martyred, he left the city, and went back to his
+cell.&nbsp; And he was there, day by day, a martyr in his conscience,
+and wrestling in the conflict of faith; for he imposed on himself a
+much more severe training than before; and his garment was within of
+hair, without of skin, which he kept till his end.&nbsp; He neither
+washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his feet, nor actually
+endured putting them into water unless it were necessary.&nbsp; And
+no one ever saw him unclothed till he was dead and about to be buried.</p>
+<p>When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth himself,
+nor to receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of soldiers, came
+and gave trouble to Antony.&nbsp; For he had with him his daughter,
+who was tormented by a d&aelig;mon.&nbsp; And while he remained a long
+time knocking at the door, and expecting him to come to pray to God
+for the child, Antony could not bear to open, but leaning from above,
+said, &ldquo;Man, why criest thou to me?&nbsp; I, too, am a man, as
+thou art.&nbsp; But if thou believest, pray to God, and it comes to
+pass.&rdquo;&nbsp; Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on
+Christ; and went away, with his daughter cleansed from the d&aelig;mon.&nbsp;
+And many other things the Lord did by him, saying, &ldquo;Ask, and it
+shall be given you.&rdquo;&nbsp; For most of the sufferers, when he
+did not open the door, only sat down outside the cell, and believing,
+and praying honestly, were cleansed.&nbsp; But when he saw himself troubled
+by many, and not being permitted to retire, as he wished, being afraid
+lest he himself should be puffed up by what the Lord was doing by him,
+or lest others should count of him above what he was, he resolved to
+go to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew him not.&nbsp; And, in fact,
+having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat down on the bank of the
+river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might embark and go up in
+it.&nbsp; And as he watched, a voice came to him: &ldquo;Antony, whither
+art thou going, and why?&rdquo;&nbsp; And he, not terrified, but as
+one accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it, &ldquo;Because
+the crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I minded to go up
+to the Upper Thebaid, on account of the many annoyances which befall
+me; and, above all, because they ask of me things beyond my strength.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And the voice said to him, &ldquo;Even if thou goest up to the Thebaid,
+even if, as thou art minded to do, thou goest down the cattle pastures,
+<a name="citation52a"></a><a href="#footnote52a">{52a}</a> thou wilt
+have to endure more, and double trouble; but if thou wilt really be
+at rest, go now into the inner desert.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when Antony
+said, &ldquo;Who will show me the way, for I have not tried it?&rdquo;
+forthwith it showed him Saracens who were going to journey that road.&nbsp;
+So, going to them, and drawing near them, Antony asked leave to depart
+with them into the desert.&nbsp; But they, as if by an ordinance of
+Providence, willingly received him; and, journeying three days and three
+nights with them, he came to a very high mountain; <a name="citation52b"></a><a href="#footnote52b">{52b}</a>
+and there was water under the mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold;
+and a plain outside; and a few neglected date-palms.&nbsp; Then Antony,
+as if stirred by God, loved the spot; for this it was what he had pointed
+out who spoke to him beside the river bank.&nbsp; At first, then, having
+received bread from those who journeyed with him, he remained alone
+in the mount, no one else being with him.&nbsp; For he recognised that
+place as his own home, and kept it thenceforth.&nbsp; And the Saracens
+themselves, seeing Antony&rsquo;s readiness, came that way on purpose,
+and joyfully brought him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of the
+dates, which was then little and paltry.&nbsp; But after this, the brethren,
+having found out the spot, like children remembering their father, were
+anxious to send things to him; but Antony saw that, in bringing him
+bread, some there were put to trouble and fatigue; and, sparing the
+monks even in that, took counsel with himself, and asked some who came
+to him to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and when
+these were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he
+found a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having
+plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by year,
+he got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be troublesome
+to no one on that account, and that he was keeping himself free from
+obligation in all things.&nbsp; But after this, seeing again some people
+coming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that he who came might
+have some small solace after the labour of that hard journey.&nbsp;
+At first, however, the wild beasts in the desert, coming on account
+of the water, often hurt his crops and his tillage; but he, gently laying
+hold of one of them, said to them all, &ldquo;Why do you hurt me, who
+have not hurt you?&nbsp; Depart, and, in the name of the Lord, never
+come near this place.&rdquo;&nbsp; And from that time forward, as if
+they were afraid of his command, they never came near the place.&nbsp;
+So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having leisure for prayer
+and for training.&nbsp; But the brethren who ministered to him asked
+him that, coming every month, they might bring him olives, and pulse,
+and oil; for, after all, he was old.&nbsp; And while he had his conversation
+there, what great wrestlings he endured, according to that which is
+written, &ldquo;Not against flesh and blood, but against the d&aelig;mons
+who are our adversaries,&rdquo; we have known from those who went in
+to him.&nbsp; For there also they heard tumults, and many voices, and
+clashing as of arms; and they beheld the mount by night full of wild
+beasts, and they looked on him, too, fighting, as it were, with beings
+whom he saw, and praying against them.&nbsp; And those who came to him
+he bade be of good courage, but he himself wrestled, bending his knees,
+and praying to the Lord.&nbsp; And it was truly worthy of wonder that,
+alone in such a desert, he was neither cowed by the d&aelig;mons who
+beset him, nor, while there were there so many four-footed and creeping
+beasts, was at all afraid of their fierceness: but, as is written, trusted
+in the Lord like the Mount Zion, having his reason unshaken and untost;
+so that the d&aelig;mons rather fled, and the wild beasts, as is written,
+were at peace with him.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and gnashed
+upon him with his teeth.&nbsp; But Antony was comforted by the Saviour,
+remaining unhurt by his craft and manifold artifices.&nbsp; For on him,
+when he was awake at night, he let loose wild beasts; and almost all
+the hy&aelig;nas in that desert, coming out of their burrows, beset
+him round, and he was in the midst.&nbsp; And when each gaped on him
+and threatened to bite him, perceiving the art of the enemy, he said
+to them all, &ldquo;If ye have received power against me, I am ready
+to be devoured by you: but if ye have been set on by d&aelig;mons, delay
+not, but withdraw, for I am a servant of Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp; When Antony
+said this, they fled, pursued by his words as by a whip.&nbsp; Next
+after a few days, as he was working&mdash;for he took care, too, to
+labour&mdash;some one standing at the door pulled the plait that he
+was working.&nbsp; For he was weaving baskets, which he used to give
+to those who came, in return for what they brought him.&nbsp; And rising
+up, he saw a beast, like a man down to his thighs, but having legs and
+feet like an ass; and Antony only crossed himself and said, &ldquo;I
+am a servant of Christ.&nbsp; If thou hast been sent against me, behold,
+here I am.&rdquo;&nbsp; And the beast with its d&aelig;mons fled away,
+so that in its haste it fell and died.&nbsp; Now the death of the beast
+was the fall of the d&aelig;mons.&nbsp; For they were eager to do everything
+to bring him back out of the desert, but could not prevail.</p>
+<p>And being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit
+awhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came to
+meet him.&nbsp; And a camel carried their loaves and their water; for
+that desert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water unless in that
+mountain alone whence they drew their water, and where his cell is.&nbsp;
+But when the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most intense,
+they all began to be in danger; for going round to various places, and
+finding no water, they could walk no more, but lay down on the ground,
+and they let the camel go, and gave themselves up.&nbsp; But the old
+man, seeing them all in danger, was utterly grieved, and groaned; and
+departing a little way from them, and bending his knees and stretching
+out his hands, he prayed, and forthwith the Lord caused water to come
+out where he had stopped and prayed.&nbsp; And thus all of them drinking
+took breath again; and having filled their skins, they sought the camel,
+and found her; for it befell that the halter had been twisted round
+a stone, and thus she had been stopped.&nbsp; So, having brought her
+back, and given her to drink, they put the skins on her, and went through
+their journey unharmed.&nbsp; And when they came to the outer cells
+all embraced him, looking on him as a father.&nbsp; And he, as if he
+brought them guest-gifts from the mountain, gave them away to them in
+his words, and shared his benefits among them.&nbsp; And there was joy
+again in the mountains, and zeal for improvement, and comfort through
+their faith in each other.&nbsp; And he too rejoiced, seeing the willingness
+of the monks, and his sister grown old in maidenhood, and herself the
+leader of other virgins.&nbsp; And so after certain days he went back
+again to the mountain.</p>
+<p>And after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared also
+to come.&nbsp; Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually
+this command: To trust in the Lord and love him, and to keep themselves
+from foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and, as is written in the
+Parables, not to be deceived by fulness of bread; and to avoid vainglory;
+and to pray continually; and to sing before sleep and after sleep; and
+to lay by in their hearts the commandment of Scripture; and to remember
+the works of the saints, in order to have their souls attuned to emulate
+them.&nbsp; But especially he counselled them to meditate continually
+on the Apostle&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;Let not the sun go down upon your
+wrath;&rdquo; and this he said was spoken of all commandments in common,
+in order that not on wrath alone, but on every other sin, the sun should
+never go down; for it was noble and necessary that the sun should never
+condemn us for a baseness by day, nor the moon for a sin or even a thought
+by night; therefore, in order that that which is noble may be preserved
+in us, it was good to hear and to keep what the Apostle commanded: for
+he said: &ldquo;Judge yourselves, and prove yourselves.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Let each then take account with himself, day by day, of his daily and
+nightly deeds; and if he has not sinned, let him not boast, but let
+him endure in what is good and not be negligent, neither condemn his
+neighbour, neither justify himself, as said the blessed Apostle Paul,
+until the Lord comes who searches secret things.&nbsp; For we often
+deceive ourselves in what we do, and we indeed know not: but the Lord
+comprehends all.&nbsp; Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us
+sympathise with each other; and let us bear each other&rsquo;s burdens,
+and examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to
+fill up.&nbsp; And let this, too, be my counsel for safety against sinning.&nbsp;
+Let us each note and write down the deeds and motions of the soul as
+if he were about to relate them to each other; and be confident that,
+as we shall be utterly ashamed that they should be known, we shall cease
+from sinning, and even from desiring anything mean.&nbsp; For who when
+he sins wishes to be harmed thereby?&nbsp; Or who, having sinned, does
+not rather lie, wishing to hide it?&nbsp; As therefore when in each
+other&rsquo;s sight we dare not commit a crime, so if we write down
+our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we shall keep ourselves the
+more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they should be known. . . .&nbsp;
+And thus forming ourselves we shall be able to bring the body into slavery,
+and please the Lord on the one hand, and on the other trample on the
+snares of the enemy.&rdquo;&nbsp; This was his exhortation to those
+who met him: but with those who suffered he suffered, and prayed with
+them.&nbsp; And often and in many things the Lord heard him; and neither
+when he was heard did he boast; nor when he was not heard did he murmur:
+but, remaining always the same, gave thanks to the Lord.&nbsp; And those
+who suffered he exhorted to keep up heart, and to know that the power
+of cure was none of his, nor of any man&rsquo;s; but only belonged to
+God, who works when and whatsoever he chooses.&nbsp; So the sufferers
+received this as a remedy, learning not to despise the old man&rsquo;s
+words, but rather to keep up heart; and those who were cured learned
+not to bless Antony, but God alone.</p>
+<p>For instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace, and
+had a grievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and tried to injure
+his eyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony to pray for him.&nbsp;
+And when he had prayed he said to Fronto, &ldquo;Depart, and be healed.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And when he resisted, and remained within some days, Antony continued
+saying, &ldquo;Thou canst not be healed if thou remainest here; go forth,
+and as soon as thou enterest Egypt, thou shalt see the sign which shall
+befall thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; He, believing, went forth; and as soon as
+he only saw Egypt he was freed from his disease, and became sound according
+to the word of Antony, which he had learnt by prayer from the Saviour
+. . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint: which
+need not be translated.]</p>
+<p>But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on
+the journey, one of them died, and the other was about to die.&nbsp;
+In fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground expecting
+death.&nbsp; But Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two monks
+who happened to be there, and hastened them, saying, &ldquo;Take a pitcher
+of water, and run on the road towards Egypt; for of two who are coming
+hither one has just expired, and the other will do so if you do not
+hasten.&nbsp; For this has been showed to me as I prayed.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So the monks going found the one lying dead, and buried him; and the
+other they recovered with the water, and brought him to the old man.&nbsp;
+Now the distance was a day&rsquo;s journey.&nbsp; But if any one should
+ask why he did not speak before one of them expired, he does not question
+rightly; for the judgment of that death did not belong to Antony, but
+to God, who both judged concerning the one; and revealed concerning
+the other.&nbsp; But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that sitting
+on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord showed him
+things afar off.</p>
+<p>For once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he saw some
+one carried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who met him.&nbsp;
+Then wondering, and blessing such a choir, he prayed to be taught what
+that might be; and straightway a voice came to him that this was the
+soul of Ammon, the monk in Nitria, <a name="citation60"></a><a href="#footnote60">{60}</a>
+who had persevered as an ascetic to his old age; and the distance from
+Nitria to the mountain where Antony was, is thirteen days&rsquo; journey.&nbsp;
+Those then who were with Antony, seeing the old man wondering, asked
+the reason, and heard that Ammon had just expired, for he was known
+to them on account of his having frequently come thither, and many signs
+having been worked by him, of which this is one. . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of Ammon&rsquo;s
+being miraculously carried across the river Lycus, because he was ashamed
+to undress himself.]</p>
+<p>But the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon&rsquo;s death noted
+down the day; and when brethren came from Nitria after thirty days,
+they inquired and learnt that Ammon had fallen asleep at the day and
+hour in which the old man saw his soul carried aloft.&nbsp; And all
+on both sides wondered at the purity of Antony&rsquo;s soul; how he
+had learnt and seen instantly what had happened thirteen days&rsquo;
+journey off.</p>
+<p>Moreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer mountain
+praying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that wonderful and Christ-bearing
+maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered dreadful internal pain from her
+extreme training, and was altogether weak in body.&nbsp; Antony, therefore,
+prayed; and the Count noted down the day on which the prayer was offered.&nbsp;
+And going back to Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and asking when
+and on what day her malady had ceased, he brought out the paper on which
+he had written down the date of the prayer.&nbsp; And when she told
+him, he showed at once the writing on the paper.&nbsp; And all found
+that the Lord had stopped her sufferings while Antony was still praying
+and calling for her on the goodness of the Saviour.</p>
+<p>And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days,
+or even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming.&nbsp;
+For some came only to see him, and others on account of sickness, and
+others because they suffered from d&aelig;mons, and all thought the
+labour of the journey no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware
+that he had been benefited.&nbsp; And when he spoke and looked thus,
+he asked no one to marvel at him on that account, but to marvel rather
+at the Lord, because he had given us, who are but men, grace to know
+him according to our powers.&nbsp; And as he was going down again to
+the outer cells, and was minded to enter a boat and pray with the monks,
+he alone perceived a dreadfully evil odour, and when those in the boat
+told him that they had fish and brine on board, and that it was they
+which smelt, he said that it was a different smell; and while he was
+yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil spirit, had gone before them
+and hidden in the boat, suddenly cried out.&nbsp; But the d&aelig;mon,
+being rebuked in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, went out of him,
+and the man became whole, and all knew that the smell had come from
+the evil spirit.&nbsp; And there was another man of high rank who came
+to him, having a d&aelig;mon, and one so terrible, that the possessed
+man did not know that he was going to Antony, but [showed the common
+symptoms of mania].&nbsp; Those who brought him entreated Antony to
+pray over him, which he did, feeling for the young man, and he watched
+beside him all night.&nbsp; But about dawn, the young man, suddenly
+rushing on Antony, assaulted him.&nbsp; When those who came with him
+were indignant, Antony said, &ldquo;Be not hard upon the youth, for
+it is not he, but the d&aelig;mon in him; and because he has been rebuked,
+and commanded to go forth into dry places, he has become furious, and
+done this.&nbsp; Glorify, therefore, the Lord for his having thus rushed
+upon me, as a sign to you that the d&aelig;mon is going out.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And as Antony said this, the youth suddenly became sound, and, recovering
+his reason, knew where he was, and embraced the old man, giving thanks
+to God.&nbsp; And most of the monks agree unanimously that many like
+things were done by him: yet are they not so wonderful as what follows.&nbsp;
+For once, when he was going to eat, and rose up to pray about the ninth
+hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and (wonderful to relate) as he
+stood he saw himself as it were taken out of himself, and led into the
+air by some persons; and then others, bitter and terrible, standing
+in the air, and trying to prevent his passing upwards.&nbsp; And when
+those who led him fought against them, they demanded whether he was
+not accountable to them.&nbsp; And when they began to take account of
+his deeds from his birth, his guides stopped them, saying, &ldquo;What
+happened from his birth upwards, the Lord hath wiped out: but of what
+has happened since he became a monk, and made a promise to God, of that
+you may demand an account.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then, when they brought accusations
+against him, and could not prove them, the road was opened freely to
+him.&nbsp; And straightway he saw himself as if coming back and standing
+before himself, and was Antony once more.&nbsp; Then, forgetting that
+he had not eaten, he remained the rest of the day and all night groaning
+and praying, for he wondered when he saw against how many enemies we
+must wrestle, and through how many labours a man must traverse the air;
+and he remembered that it is this which the Apostle means with regard
+to the Prince of the power of the air; for it is in the air that the
+enemy has his power, fighting against those who pass through it, and
+trying to hinder them.&nbsp; Wherefore, also he especially exhorts us:
+&ldquo;Take the whole armour of God, that the enemy, having no evil
+to say about us, may be ashamed.&rdquo;&nbsp; But when we heard this,
+we remembered the Apostle&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;Whether in the body
+I cannot tell, or out of the body I cannot tell: God knoweth.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But Paul was caught up into the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable
+words, descended again; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and
+wrestling till he seemed to be free.</p>
+<p>Again, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the mountain,
+if at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was revealed to
+him by Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man was, as Scripture
+says, taught of God.&nbsp; After this, at all events, when he had been
+talking with some who came to him concerning the departure of the soul,
+and what would be its place after this life, the next night some one
+called him from without, and said, &ldquo;Rise up, Antony; come out
+and see.&rdquo;&nbsp; So coming out (for he knew whom he ought to obey),
+he beheld a tall being, shapeless and terrible, standing and reaching
+to the clouds, and as it were winged beings ascending; and him stretching
+out his hands; and some of them hindered by him, and others flying above
+him, and when they had once passed him, borne upwards without trouble.&nbsp;
+But against them that tall being gnashed his teeth, while over those
+who fell, he rejoiced.&nbsp; And there came a voice to Antony, &ldquo;Consider
+what thou seest.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when his understanding was opened,
+he perceived that it was the enemy who envies the faithful, and that
+those who were in his power he mastered and hindered from passing; but
+that those who had not obeyed him, over them, as over conquerors, he
+had no power.&nbsp; Having seen this, and as it were made mindful by
+it, he struggled more and more daily to improve.&nbsp; Now these things
+he did not tell of his own accord; but when he was long in prayer, and
+astonished in himself, those who were with him questioned him and urged
+him; and he was forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide anything
+from his children; and considering, too, that his own conscience was
+clear, and the story would be profitable for them, when they learned
+that the life of training bore good fruit, and that visions often came
+as a solace of their toils.</p>
+<p>But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit; for though
+he was so great, he both honoured exceedingly the canon of the Church,
+and wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in honour.&nbsp;
+For to the bishops and presbyters he was not ashamed to bow his head;
+and if a deacon ever came to him for the sake of profit, he discoursed
+with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him,
+not being ashamed even himself to learn from him. <a name="citation65"></a><a href="#footnote65">{65}</a>&nbsp;
+For he often asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present,
+confessing that he was profited if any one said aught that was useful.&nbsp;
+Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace; and this gift
+too he had from the Saviour.&nbsp; For if he was present among the multitude
+of monks, and any one who did not previously know him wished to see
+him, as soon as he came he passed by all the rest, and ran to Antony
+himself, as if attracted by his eyes.&nbsp; He did not differ from the
+rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the steadiness of his temper,
+and purity of his soul; for as his soul was undisturbed, his outward
+senses were undisturbed likewise, so that the cheerfulness of his soul
+made his face cheerful, and from the movements of his body the stedfastness
+of his soul could be perceived, according to the Scripture, &ldquo;When
+the heart is cheerful the countenance is glad; but when sorrow comes
+it scowleth.&rdquo; . . . And he was altogether wonderful in faith,
+and pious, for he never communicated with the Meletian <a name="citation66a"></a><a href="#footnote66a">{66a}</a>
+schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor
+did he converse amicably with Manich&aelig;ans or any other heretics,
+save only to exhort them to be converted to piety.&nbsp; For he held
+that their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to the soul.&nbsp;
+So also he detested the heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to
+approach them, nor hold their misbelief. <a name="citation66b"></a><a href="#footnote66b">{66b}</a>&nbsp;
+In fact, when certain of the Ariomanites came to him, having discerned
+them and found them impious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying
+that their words were worse than serpent&rsquo;s poison; and when the
+Arians once pretended that he was of the same opinion as they, he was
+indignant and fierce against them.&nbsp; Then being sent for by the
+bishops and all the brethren, he went down from the mountain, and entering
+Alexandria he denounced the Arians, saying, that that was the last heresy,
+and the forerunner of Antichrist; and he taught the people that the
+Son of God was not a created thing, neither made from nought, but that
+he is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Essence of the Father; wherefore
+also it is impious to say there was a time when he was not, for he was
+always the Word co-existent with the Father.&nbsp; Wherefore he said,
+&ldquo;Do not have any communication with these most impious Arians;
+for there is no communion between light and darkness.&nbsp; For you
+are pious Christians: but they, when they say that the Son of God and
+the Word, who is from the Father, is a created being, differ nought
+from the heathen, because they worship the creature instead of God the
+Creator. <a name="citation67"></a><a href="#footnote67">{67}</a>&nbsp;
+Believe rather that the whole creation itself is indignant against them,
+because they number the Creator and Lord of all, in whom all things
+are made, among created things.&rdquo;&nbsp; All the people therefore
+rejoiced at hearing that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized by such
+a man; and all those in the city ran together to see Antony and the
+Greeks, <a name="citation68a"></a><a href="#footnote68a">{68a}</a> and
+those who are called their priests <a name="citation68b"></a><a href="#footnote68b">{68b}</a>
+came into the church, wishing to see the man of God; for all called
+him by that name, because there the Lord cleansed many by him from d&aelig;mons,
+and healed those who were out of their mind.&nbsp; And many heathens
+wished only to touch the old man, believing that it would be of use
+to them; and in fact as many became Christians in those few days, as
+would have been usually converted in a year.&nbsp; And when some thought
+that the crowd troubled him, and therefore turned all away from him,
+he quietly said that they were not more numerous than the fiends with
+whom he wrestled on the mountain.&nbsp; But when he left the city, and
+we were setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate a certain
+woman called to him: &ldquo;Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously
+vexed with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with
+running after thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; The old man hearing it, and being asked
+by us, waited willingly.&nbsp; But when the woman drew near, the child
+dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on the
+name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out;
+and the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself rejoiced
+at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.</p>
+<p>Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never
+learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.&nbsp; Once, for
+example, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they could
+tempt Antony.&nbsp; And he was in the outer mountain; and when he went
+out to them, understanding the men from their countenances, he said
+through an interpreter, &ldquo;Why have you troubled yourselves so much,
+philosophers, to come to a foolish man?&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they answered
+that he was not foolish, but rather very wise, he said, &ldquo;If you
+have come to a fool, your labour is superfluous, but if ye think me
+to be wise, become as I am; for we ought to copy what is good, and if
+I had come to you, I should have copied you; but if you come to me,
+copy me, for I am a Christian.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they wondering went
+their way, for they saw that even d&aelig;mons were afraid of Antony.</p>
+<p>And again when others of the same class met him in the outer mountain,
+and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt letters, Antony answered,
+&ldquo;But what do you say? which is first, the sense or the letters?&nbsp;
+And which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the
+letters of the sense?&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they said that the sense
+came first, and invented the letters, Antony replied, &ldquo;If then
+the sense be sound, the letters are not needed.&rdquo;&nbsp; Which struck
+them, and those present, with astonishment.&nbsp; So they went away
+wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an unlearned man.&nbsp;
+For though he had lived and grown old in the mountain, his manners were
+not rustic, but graceful and urbane; and his speech was seasoned with
+the divine salt, so that no man grudged at him, but rather rejoiced
+over him, as many as came. . . .</p>
+<p>[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attributed
+to St. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity: the only point
+about it which is worthy of note is that Antony confutes the philosophers
+by challenging them to cure some possessed persons, and, when they are
+unable to do so, casts out the d&aelig;mons himself by the sign of the
+cross.]</p>
+<p>The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus the Augustus,
+and his sons, Constantius and Constans, the Augusti, hearing of these
+things, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to receive an answer
+from him.&nbsp; But he did not make much of the letters, nor was puffed
+up by their messages; and he was just the same as he was before the
+kings wrote to him.&nbsp; And he called his monks and said, &ldquo;Wonder
+not if a king writes to us, for he is but a man: but wonder rather that
+God has written his law to man, and spoken to us by his own Son.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So he declined to receive their letters, saying he did not know how
+to write an answer to such things; but being admonished by the monks
+that the kings were Christians, and that they must not be scandalized
+by being despised, he permitted the letters to be read, and wrote an
+answer; accepting them because they worshipped Christ, and counselling
+them, for their salvation, not to think the present life great, but
+rather to remember judgment to come; and to know that Christ was the
+only true and eternal king; and he begged them to be merciful to men,
+and to think of justice and the poor.&nbsp; And they, when they received
+the answer, rejoiced.&nbsp; Thus was he kindly towards all, and all
+looked on him as their father.&nbsp; He then betook himself again into
+the inner mountain, and continued his accustomed training.&nbsp; But
+often, when he was sitting and walking with those who came unto him,
+he was astounded, as is written in Daniel.&nbsp; And after the space
+of an hour, he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with
+him, and they perceived that he had seen some vision.&nbsp; Often he
+saw in the mountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion
+the bishop, who saw him occupied with a vision.&nbsp; Once, for instance,
+as he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what
+he saw.&nbsp; Then, after an hour, turning to those who were with him,
+he groaned and fell into a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and bending
+his knees, remained so a long while; and then the old man rose up and
+wept.&nbsp; The bystanders, therefore, trembling and altogether terrified,
+asked him to tell them what had happened, and tormented him much, that
+he was forced to speak.&nbsp; And he groaning greatly&mdash;&ldquo;Ah!
+my children,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it were better to be dead before
+what I have seen shall come to pass.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they asked
+him again, he said with tears, that &ldquo;Wrath will seize on the Church,
+and she will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no understanding;
+for I saw the table of the Lord&rsquo;s house, and mules standing all
+around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does when it leaps
+in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for I heard a voice
+saying, &lsquo;My sanctuary shall be defiled.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the present
+inroad of the Arians, <a name="citation72a"></a><a href="#footnote72a">{72a}</a>
+and the plunder of the churches, when they carried off the holy vessels
+by violence, and made the heathen carry them: and when too they forced
+the heathens from the prisons to join them, and in their presence did
+on the holy table what they would. <a name="citation72b"></a><a href="#footnote72b">{72b}</a>&nbsp;
+Then we all perceived that the kicks of those mules presignified to
+Antony what the Arians are now doing without understanding, like the
+brutes.&nbsp; But when Antony saw this sight, he exhorted those about
+him, saying, &ldquo;Lose not heart, children; for as the Lord has been
+angry, so will he again be appeased, and the Church shall soon receive
+again her own order and shine forth as she is wont; and ye shall see
+the persecuted restored to their place, and impiety retreating again
+into its own dens, and the pious faith speaking boldly everywhere with
+all freedom.&nbsp; Only defile not yourselves with the Arians, for this
+teaching is not of the Apostle but of the d&aelig;mons, and of their
+father the devil: barren and irrational and of an unsound mind, like
+the irrational deeds of those mules.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thus spoke Antony.</p>
+<p>But we must not doubt whether so great wonders have been done by
+a man; for the Saviour&rsquo;s promise is, &ldquo;If ye have faith as
+a grain of mustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Pass over from
+hence, it shall pass over, and nothing shall be impossible to you;&rdquo;
+and again, &ldquo;Verily, verily, I say unto you, if ye shall ask my
+Father in my name, he shall give it you.&nbsp; Ask, and ye shall receive.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And he himself it is who said to his disciples and to all who believe
+in him, &ldquo;Heal the sick, cast out devils; freely ye have received,
+freely give.&rdquo;&nbsp; And certainly Antony did not heal by his own
+authority, but by praying and calling on Christ; so that it was plain
+to all that it was not he who did it, but the Lord, who through Antony
+showed love to men, and healed the sufferers.&nbsp; But Antony&rsquo;s
+part was only the prayer and the training, for the sake whereof, sitting
+in the mountain, he rejoiced in the sight of divine things, and grieved
+when he was tormented by many, and dragged to the outer mountain.</p>
+<p>For all the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain,
+because it was impossible for them to go in thither to him on account
+of the litigants who followed him; so they begged him to come, that
+they might only behold him.&nbsp; And when he declined they insisted,
+and even sent in to him prisoners under the charge of soldiers, that
+at least on their account he might come down.&nbsp; So being forced
+by necessity, and seeing them lamenting, he came to the outer mountain.&nbsp;
+And his labour this time too was profitable to many, and his coming
+for their good.&nbsp; To the magistrates, too, he was of use, counselling
+them to prefer justice to all things, and to fear God, and to know that
+with what judgment they judged they should be judged in turn.&nbsp;
+But he loved best of all his life in the mountain.&nbsp; Once again,
+when he was compelled in the same way to leave it, by those who were
+in want, and by the general of the soldiers, who entreated him earnestly,
+he came down, and having spoken to them somewhat of the things which
+conduced to salvation, he was pressed also by those who were in need.&nbsp;
+But being asked by the general to lengthen his stay, he refused, and
+persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying, &ldquo;Fishes, if they
+lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with you lose their
+strength.&nbsp; As the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must we to
+the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget what is within.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The general, hearing this and much more from him, said with surprise
+that he was truly a servant of God, for whence could an unlearned man
+have so great sense if he were not loved by God?</p>
+<p>Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians
+on account of his affection for those abominable Arians.&nbsp; His cruelty
+was so great that he even beat nuns, and stripped and scourged monks.&nbsp;
+Antony sent him a letter to this effect:&mdash;&ldquo;I see wrath coming
+upon thee.&nbsp; Cease, therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest
+the wrath lay hold upon thee, for it is near at hand.&rdquo;&nbsp; But
+Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the ground and spat on it; and
+insulted those who brought it, bidding them tell Antony, &ldquo;Since
+thou carest for monks, I will soon come after thee likewise.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold on him.&nbsp;
+For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to
+the first station from Alexandria, which is called Ch&aelig;reas&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
+Both of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the most
+gentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the place, the horses
+began playing with each other, as is their wont, and suddenly the more
+gentle of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius
+and pulled him off with his teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was
+carried back to the city, and died in three days.&nbsp; And all wondered
+that what Antony had so wonderfully foretold was so quickly fulfilled.&nbsp;
+These were his warnings to the more cruel.&nbsp; But the rest who came
+to him he so instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and
+blessed those who had retired from this life.&nbsp; And those who had
+been unjustly used he so protected that you would think he and not they
+was the sufferer.&nbsp; And he was so able to be of use to all; so that
+many who were serving in the army, and many wealthy men, laid aside
+the burdens of life and became thenceforth monks; and altogether he
+was like a physician given by God to Egypt.&nbsp; For who met him grieving,
+and did not go away rejoicing?&nbsp; Who came mourning over his dead,
+and did not forthwith lay aside his grief?&nbsp; Who came wrathful,
+and was not converted to friendship?&nbsp; What poor man came wearied
+out, and when he saw and heard him did not despise wealth and comfort
+himself in his poverty?&nbsp; What monk who had grown remiss, was not
+strengthened by coming to him?&nbsp; What young man coming to the mountain
+and looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce pleasure and love
+temperance?&nbsp; Who came to him tempted by devils, and did not get
+rest?&nbsp; Who came troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind?&nbsp;
+For this was the great thing in Antony&rsquo;s asceticism, that (as
+I have said before), having the gift of discerning spirits, he understood
+their movements, and knew in what direction each of them turned his
+endeavours and his attacks.&nbsp; And not only he was not deceived by
+them himself, but he taught those who were troubled in mind how they
+might turn aside the plots of d&aelig;mons, teaching them the weakness
+and the craft of their enemies.&nbsp; How many maidens, too, who had
+been already betrothed, and only saw Antony from afar, remained unmarried
+for Christ&rsquo;s sake!&nbsp; Some, too, came from foreign parts to
+him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from him as from
+a father.&nbsp; And now he has fallen asleep, all are as orphans who
+have lost a parent, consoling themselves with his memory alone, keeping
+his instructions and exhortations.&nbsp; But what the end of his life
+was like, it is fit that I should relate, and you hear eagerly.&nbsp;
+For it too is worthy of emulation.&nbsp; He was visiting, according
+to his wont, the monks in the outer mountain, and having learned from
+Providence concerning his own end, he said to the brethren, &ldquo;This
+visit to you is my last, and I wonder if we shall see each other again
+in this life.&nbsp; It is time for me to set sail, for I am near a hundred
+and five years old.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they heard that they wept,
+and embraced and kissed the old man.&nbsp; And he, as if he was setting
+out from a foreign city to his own, spoke joyfully, and exhorted them
+not to grow idle in their labours or cowardly in their training, but
+to live as those who died daily, and (as I said before) to be earnest
+in keeping their souls from foul thoughts, and to emulate the saints,
+and not to draw near the Meletian schismatics, for &ldquo;ye know their
+evil and profane determinations, nor to have any communion with the
+Arians, for their impiety also is manifest to all.&nbsp; Neither if
+ye shall see the magistrates patronising them, be troubled, for their
+phantasy shall have an end, and is mortal and only for a little while.&nbsp;
+Keep yourselves therefore rather clean from them, and hold that which
+has been handed down to you by the fathers, and especially the faith
+in our Lord Jesus Christ which ye have learned from Scripture, and of
+which ye have often been reminded by me.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the brethren
+tried to force him to stay with them and make his end there, he would
+not endure it, on many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially
+on this:&mdash;The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of
+good persons, and especially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them
+underground, but to lay them upon benches and keep them in their houses;
+<a name="citation77"></a><a href="#footnote77">{77}</a> thinking that
+by this they honour the departed.&nbsp; Now Antony had often asked the
+bishops to exhort the people about this, and in like manner he himself
+rebuked the laity and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing
+neither lawful nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs
+and prophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very
+body of our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it
+to hide it, till he rose the third day.&nbsp; And thus saying he showed
+that those broke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even
+if they were holy; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord&rsquo;s
+body?&nbsp; Many, then, when they heard him, buried thenceforth underground;
+and blessed the Lord that they had been taught rightly.&nbsp; Being
+then aware of this, and afraid lest they should do the same by his body,
+he hurried himself, and bade farewell to the monks in the outer mountain;
+and coming to the inner mountain, where he was wont to abide, after
+a few months he grew sick, and calling those who were by&mdash;and there
+were two of them who had remained there within fifteen years, exercising
+themselves and ministering to him on account of his old age&mdash;he
+said to them, &ldquo;I indeed go the way of the fathers, as it is written,
+for I perceive that I am called by the Lord.&rdquo; . . .</p>
+<p>[Then follows a general exhortation to the monk, almost identical
+with much that has gone before, and ending by a command that his body
+should be buried in the ground.]</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall
+know the place, save you alone, for I shall receive it (my body) incorruptible
+from my Saviour in the resurrection of the dead.&nbsp; And distribute
+my garments thus.&nbsp; To Athanasius the bishop give one of my sheepskins,
+and the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown
+old by me; and to Serapion the bishop give the other sheepskin; and
+do you have the hair-cloth garment.&nbsp; And for the rest, children,
+farewell, for Antony is going, and is with you no more.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Saying thus, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet,
+and, as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their account
+(for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed and was gathered
+to his fathers.&nbsp; And they forthwith, as he had commanded them,
+preparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one
+knows to this day where it is hidden, save those two servants only.&nbsp;
+And each (<i>i.e</i>.&nbsp; Athanasius and Serapion) having received
+the sheepskin of the blessed Antony, and the cloak which he had worn
+out, keeps them as a great possession.&nbsp; For he who looks on them,
+as it were, sees Antony; and he who puts them on, wears them with joy,
+as he does Antony&rsquo;s counsels.</p>
+<p>Such was the end of Antony in the body, and such the beginning of
+his training.&nbsp; And if these things are small in comparison with
+his virtue, yet reckon up from these things how great was Antony, the
+man of God, who kept unchanged, from his youth up to so great an age,
+the earnestness of his training; and was neither worsted in his old
+age by the desire of more delicate food, nor on account of the weakness
+of his body altered the quality of his garment, nor even washed his
+feet with water; and yet remained uninjured in all his limbs: for his
+eyes were undimmed and whole, so that he saw well; and not one of his
+teeth had fallen out, but they were only worn down to his gums on account
+of his great age; and he remained sound in hand and foot; and, in a
+word, appeared ruddier and more ready for exertion than all who use
+various meats and baths, and different dresses.&nbsp; But that this
+man should be celebrated everywhere and wondered at by all, and regretted
+even by those who never saw him, is a proof of his virtue, and that
+his soul was dear to God.&nbsp; For Antony became known not by writings,
+not from the wisdom that is from without, not by any art, but by piety
+alone; and that this was the gift of God, none can deny.&nbsp; For how
+as far as Spain, as Gaul, as Rome, as Africa, could he have been heard,
+hidden as he was in a mountain, if it had not been for God, who makes
+known his own men everywhere, and who had promised Antony this from
+the beginning?&nbsp; For even if they do their deeds in secret, and
+wish to be concealed, yet the Lord shows them as lights to all, that
+so those who hear of them may know that the commandments suffice to
+put men in the right way, and may grow zealous of the path of virtue.</p>
+<p>Read then these things to the other brethren, that they may learn
+what the life of monks should be, and may believe that the Lord Jesus
+Christ our Saviour will glorify those who glorify him, and that those
+who serve him to the end he will not only bring to the kingdom of heaven,
+but that even if on earth they hide themselves and strive to get out
+of the way, he will make them manifest and celebrated everywhere, for
+the sake of their own virtue, and for the benefit of others.&nbsp; But
+if need be, read this also to the heathens, that even thus they may
+learn that our Lord Jesus Christ is not only Lord and the Son of God,
+but that those who truly serve him, and believe piously on him, not
+only prove that those d&aelig;mons whom the Greeks think are gods to
+be no gods, but even tread them under foot, and chase them out as deceivers
+and corrupters of men, through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory
+and honour for ever and ever.&nbsp; Amen.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Thus ends this strange story.&nbsp; What we are to think of the miracles
+and wonders contained in it, will be discussed at a later point in this
+book.&nbsp; Meanwhile there is a stranger story still connected with
+the life of St. Antony.&nbsp; It professes to have been told by him
+himself to his monks; and whatever groundwork of fact there may be in
+it is doubtless his.&nbsp; The form in which we have it was given it
+by the famous St. Jerome, who sends the tale as a letter to Asella,
+one of the many noble Roman ladies whom he persuaded to embrace the
+monastic life.&nbsp; The style is as well worth preserving as the matter.&nbsp;
+Its ruggedness and awkwardness, its ambition and affectation, contrasted
+with the graceful simplicity of Athanasius&rsquo;s &ldquo;Life of Antony,&rdquo;
+mark well the difference between the cultivated Greek and the ungraceful
+and half-barbarous Roman of the later Empire.&nbsp; I have, therefore,
+given it as literally as possible, that readers may judge for themselves
+how some of the Great Fathers of the fifth century wrote, and what they
+believed.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>THE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>BY THE DIVINE HIERONYMUS THE PRIEST.&nbsp; (ST.&nbsp; JEROME.)</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Many have often doubted by which of the monks the desert was first
+inhabited.&nbsp; For some, looking for the beginnings of Monachism in
+earlier ages, have deduced it from the blessed Elias and John; of whom
+Elias seems to us to have been rather a prophet than a monk; and John
+to have begun to prophesy before he was born.&nbsp; But others (an opinion
+in which all the common people are agreed) assert that Antony was the
+head of this rule of life, which is partly true.&nbsp; For he was not
+so much himself the first of all, as the man who excited the earnestness
+of all.&nbsp; But Amathas and Macarius, Antony&rsquo;s disciples (the
+former of whom buried his master&rsquo;s body), even now affirm that
+a certain Paul, a Theban, was the beginner of the matter; which (not
+so much in name as in opinion) we also hold to be true.&nbsp; Some scatter
+about, as the fancy takes them, both this and other stories; inventing
+incredible tales of a man in a subterranean cave, hairy down to his
+heels, and many other things, which it is tedious to follow out.&nbsp;
+For, as their lie is shameless, their opinion does not seem worth refuting.</p>
+<p>Therefore, because careful accounts of Antony, both in Greek and
+Roman style, have been handed down, I have determined to write a little
+about the beginning and end of Paul&rsquo;s life; more because the matter
+has been omitted, than trusting to my own wit.&nbsp; But how he lived
+during middle life, or what stratagems of Satan he endured, is known
+to none.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<h3>THE LIFE OF PAUL</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Under Decius and Valerius, the persecutors, at the time when Cornelius
+at Rome, and Cyprian at Carthage, were condemned in blessed blood, a
+cruel tempest swept over many Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.</p>
+<p>Christian subjects in those days longed to be smitten with the sword
+for the name of Christ.&nbsp; But the crafty enemy, seeking out punishments
+which delayed death, longed to slay souls, not bodies.&nbsp; And as
+Cyprian himself (who suffered by him) says: &ldquo;When they longed
+to die, they were not allowed to be slain.&rdquo;&nbsp; In order to
+make his cruelty better known, we have set down two examples for remembrance.</p>
+<p>A martyr, persevering in the faith, and conqueror amid racks and
+red-hot irons, he commanded to be anointed with honey and laid on his
+back under a burning sun, with his hands tied behind him; in order,
+forsooth, that he who had already conquered the fiery gridiron, might
+yield to the stings of flies.</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul left at the death of
+both his parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister already married;
+being about fifteen years old, well taught in Greek and Egyptian letters,
+gentle tempered, loving God much; and, when the storm of persecution
+burst, he withdrew into a distant city.&nbsp; But</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;To what dost thou not urge the human breast<br />Curst hunger
+after gold?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>His sister&rsquo;s husband was ready to betray him whom he should
+have concealed.&nbsp; Neither the tears of his wife, the tie of blood,
+or God who looks on all things from on high, could call him back from
+his crime.&nbsp; He was at hand, ready to seize him, making piety a
+pretext for cruelty.&nbsp; The boy discovered it, and fled into the
+desert hills.&nbsp; Once there he changed need into pleasure, and going
+on, and then stopping awhile, again and again, reached at last a stony
+cliff, at the foot whereof was, nigh at hand, a great cave, its mouth
+closed with a stone.&nbsp; Having moved which away (as man&rsquo;s longing
+is to know the hidden), exploring more greedily, he sees within a great
+hall, open to the sky above, but shaded by the spreading boughs of an
+ancient palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill from which, flowing
+a short space forth, was sucked up again by the same soil which had
+given it birth.&nbsp; There were besides in that cavernous mountain
+not a few dwellings, in which he saw rusty anvils and hammers, with
+which coin had been stamped of old.&nbsp; For this place (so books say)
+was the workshop for base coin in the days when Antony lived with Cleopatra.</p>
+<p>Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God,
+he spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree gave
+him food and clothes; which lest it should seem impossible to some,
+I call Jesus and his holy angels to witness that I have seen monks one
+of whom, shut up for thirty years, lived on barley bread and muddy water;
+another in an old cistern, which in the country speech they call the
+Syrian&rsquo;s bed, was kept alive on five figs each day.&nbsp; These
+things, therefore, will seem incredible to those who do not believe;
+for to those who do believe all things are possible.</p>
+<p>But to return thither whence I digressed.&nbsp; When the blessed
+Paul had been leading the heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and
+Antony, ninety years old, was dwelling in another solitude, this thought
+(so Antony was wont to assert) entered his mind&mdash;that no monk more
+perfect than he had settled in the desert.&nbsp; But as he lay still
+by night, it was revealed to him that there was another monk beyond
+him far better than he, to visit whom he must set out.&nbsp; So when
+the light broke, the venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on
+a staff, began to will to go, he knew not whither.&nbsp; And now the
+mid day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not
+turned from the journey he had begun, saying, &ldquo;I trust in my God,
+that he will show his servant that which he has promised.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And as he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets have given
+the name of Hippocentaur.&nbsp; Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead
+with the salutary impression of the Cross, and, &ldquo;Here!&rdquo;
+he says, &ldquo;in what part here does a servant of God dwell?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But he, growling I know not what barbarous sound, and grinding rather
+than uttering, the words, attempted a courteous speech from lips rough
+with bristles, and, stretching out his right hand, pointed to the way;
+then, fleeing swiftly across the open plains, vanished from the eyes
+of the wondering Antony.&nbsp; But whether the devil took this form
+to terrify him; or whether the desert, fertile (as is its wont) in monstrous
+animals, begets that beast likewise, we hold as uncertain.</p>
+<p>So Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen, goes forward.&nbsp;
+Soon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a short manikin, with crooked
+nose and brow rough with horns, whose lower parts ended in goat&rsquo;s
+feet.&nbsp; Undismayed by this spectacle likewise, Antony seized, like
+a good warrior, the shield of faith and habergeon of hope; the animal,
+however, was bringing him dates, as food for his journey, and a pledge
+of peace.&nbsp; When he saw that, Antony pushed on, and, asking him
+who he was, was answered, &ldquo;I am a mortal, and one of the inhabitants
+of the desert, whom the Gentiles, deluded by various errors, worship
+by the name of Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi.&nbsp; I come as ambassador
+from our herd, that thou mayest pray for us to the common God, who,
+we know, has come for the salvation of the world, and his sound is gone
+out into all lands.&rdquo;&nbsp; As he spoke thus, the aged wayfarer
+bedewed his face plenteously with tears, which the greatness of his
+joy had poured forth as signs of his heart.&nbsp; For he rejoiced at
+the glory of Christ, and the destruction of Satan; and, wondering at
+the same time that he could understand the creature&rsquo;s speech,
+he smote on the ground with his staff, and said, &ldquo;Woe to thee,
+Alexandria, who worshippest portents instead of God!&nbsp; Woe to thee,
+harlot city, into which all the demons of the world have flowed together!&nbsp;
+What wilt thou say now?&nbsp; Beasts talk of Christ, and thou worshippest
+portents instead of God.&rdquo;&nbsp; He had hardly finished his words,
+when the swift beast fled away as upon wings.&nbsp; Lest this should
+move a scruple in any one on account of its incredibility, it was corroborated,
+in the reign of Constantine, by the testimony of the whole world.&nbsp;
+For a man of that kind, being led alive to Alexandria, afforded a great
+spectacle to the people; and afterwards the lifeless carcase, being
+salted lest it should decay in the summer heat, was brought to Antioch,
+to be seen by the Emperor.</p>
+<p>But&mdash;to go on with my tale&mdash;Antony went on through that
+region, seeing only the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of
+the desert.&nbsp; What he should do, or whither turn, he knew not.&nbsp;
+A second day had now run by.&nbsp; One thing remained, to be confident
+that he could not be deserted by Christ.&nbsp; All night through he
+spent a second darkness in prayer, and while the light was still dim,
+he sees afar a she-wolf, panting with heat and thirst, creeping in at
+the foot of the mountain.&nbsp; Following her with his eyes, and drawing
+nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began to look in: but in
+vain; for the darkness stopped his view.&nbsp; However, as the Scripture
+saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and bated breath
+the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly, and stopping
+often, watched for a sound.&nbsp; At length he saw afar off a light
+through the horror of the darkness; hastened on more greedily; struck
+his foot against a stone; and made a noise, at which the blessed Paul
+shut and barred his door, which had stood open.</p>
+<p>Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there
+till the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, &ldquo;Who I am,
+and whence, and why I am come, thou knowest.&nbsp; I know that I deserve
+not to see thy face; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return.&nbsp;
+Thou who receivest beasts, why repellest thou a man?&nbsp; I have sought,
+and I have found.&nbsp; I knock, that it may be opened to me: which
+if I win not, here will I die before thy gate.&nbsp; Surely thou shalt
+at least bury my corpse.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Persisting thus he spoke, and stood there fixed:<br />To whom
+the hero shortly thus replied.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;No one begs thus to threaten.&nbsp; No one does injury with
+tears.&nbsp; And dost thou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou
+art a mortal guest?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Paul, smiling, opened the door.&nbsp; They mingled mutual embraces,
+and saluted each other by their names, and committed themselves in common
+to the grace of God.&nbsp; And after the holy kiss, Paul sitting down
+with Antony thus began&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Behold him, whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs
+decayed by age, and covered with unkempt white hair.&nbsp; Behold, thou
+seest but a mortal, soon to become dust.&nbsp; But, because charity
+bears all things, tell me, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether
+new houses are rising in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the
+world governed? whether there are any left who are led captive by the
+deceits of the devil?&rdquo;&nbsp; As they spoke thus, they saw a raven
+settle on a bough; who, flying gently down, laid, to their wonder, a
+whole loaf before them.&nbsp; When he was gone, &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said
+Paul, &ldquo;the Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a
+meal.&nbsp; For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf,
+but at thy coming Christ hath doubled his soldiers&rsquo; allowance.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then, having thanked God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.</p>
+<p>But here a contention arising as to which of them should break the
+loaf, occupied the day till well-nigh evening.&nbsp; Paul insisted,
+as the host; Antony declined, as the younger man.&nbsp; At last it was
+agreed that they should take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and
+each pull towards himself, and keep what was left in his hand.&nbsp;
+Next they stooped down, and drank a little water from the spring; then,
+immolating to God the sacrifice of praise, passed the night watching.</p>
+<p>And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, &ldquo;I
+knew long since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long
+since God had promised thee to me as a fellow servant: but because the
+time of my falling asleep is now come, and (because I always longed
+to depart, and to be with Christ) there is laid up for me when I have
+finished my course a crown of righteousness; therefore thou art sent
+from the Lord to cover my corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert
+him, but take him as his companion on such a journey.&nbsp; But he said,
+&ldquo;Thou must not seek the things which are thine own, but the things
+of others.&nbsp; It is expedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden
+of the flesh, and to follow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest
+of the brethren that they should be still trained by thine example.&nbsp;
+Wherefore go, unless it displease thee, and bring the cloak which Athanasius
+the bishop gave thee, to wrap up my corpse.&rdquo;&nbsp; But this the
+blessed Paul asked, not because he cared greatly whether his body decayed
+covered or bare (as one who for so long a time was used to clothe himself
+with woven palm leaves), but that Antony&rsquo;s grief at his death
+might be lightened when he left him.&nbsp; Antony astounded that he
+had heard of Athanasius and his own cloak, seeing as it were Christ
+in Paul, and venerating the God within his breast, dared answer nothing:
+but keeping in silence, and kissing his eyes and hands, returned to
+the monastery, which afterwards was occupied by the Saracens.&nbsp;
+His steps could not follow his spirit; but, although his body was empty
+with fastings, and broken with old age, yet his courage conquered his
+years.&nbsp; At last, tired and breathless, he arrived at home.&nbsp;
+There two disciples met him, who had been long sent to minister to him,
+and asked him, &ldquo;Where hast thou tarried so long, father?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+He answered, &ldquo;Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of
+a monk.&nbsp; I have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have
+truly seen Paul in Paradise;&rdquo; and so, closing his lips, and beating
+his breast, he took the cloak from his cell, and when his disciples
+asked him to explain more fully what had befallen, he said, &ldquo;There
+is a time to be silent, and a time to speak.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then going
+out, and not taking even a morsel of food, he returned by the way he
+had come.&nbsp; For he feared&mdash;what actually happened&mdash;lest
+Paul in his absence should render up the soul he owed to Christ.</p>
+<p>And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps
+for three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of prophets
+and apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on high; and
+forthwith falling on his face, he cast sand on his head, and weeping
+and wailing, said, &ldquo;Why dost thou dismiss me, Paul?&nbsp; Why
+dost thou depart without a farewell?&nbsp; So late known, dost thou
+vanish so soon?&rdquo;&nbsp; The blessed Antony used to tell afterwards,
+how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly that he flew like a bird.&nbsp;
+Nor without cause.&nbsp; For entering the cave he saw, with bended knees,
+erect neck, and hands spread out on high, a lifeless corpse.&nbsp; And
+at first, thinking that it still lived, he prayed in like wise.&nbsp;
+But when he heard no sighs (as usual) come from the worshipper&rsquo;s
+breast, he fell to a tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse
+of the saint was praying, in seemly attitude, to that God to whom all
+live.</p>
+<p>So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting
+hymns of the Christian tradition, Antony grew sad, because he had no
+spade, wherewith to dig the ground; and thinking over many plans in
+his mind, said, &ldquo;If I go back to the monastery, it is a three
+days&rsquo; journey.&nbsp; If I stay here, I shall be of no more use.&nbsp;
+I will die, then, as it is fit; and, falling beside thy warrior, Christ,
+breathe my last breath.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he was thinking thus to himself, lo! two lions came running from
+the inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks; seeing
+whom he shuddered at first; and then, turning his mind to God, remained
+fearless, as though he were looking upon doves.&nbsp; They came straight
+to the corpse of the blessed old man, and crouched at his feet, wagging
+their tails, and roaring with mighty growls, so that Antony understood
+them to lament, as best they could.&nbsp; Then not far off they began
+to claw the ground with their paws, and, carrying out the sand eagerly,
+dug a place large enough to hold a man: then at once, as if begging
+a reward for their work, they came to Antony, drooping their necks,
+and licking his hands and feet.&nbsp; But he perceived that they prayed
+a blessing from him; and at once, bursting into praise of Christ, because
+even dumb animals felt that he was God, he saith, &ldquo;Lord, without
+whose word not a leaf of the tree drops, nor one sparrow falls to the
+ground, give to them as thou knowest how to give.&rdquo;&nbsp; And,
+signing to them with his hand, he bade them go.</p>
+<p>And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight
+of the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it,
+and raised a mound as is the wont.&nbsp; And when another dawn shone,
+lest the pious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the intestate
+dead, he kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven, as baskets
+are made, out of the leaves of the palm; and returning to the monastery,
+told his disciples all throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter
+and Pentecost, always clothed himself in Paul&rsquo;s tunic.</p>
+<p>I am inclined, at the end of my treatise, to ask those who know not
+the extent of their patrimonies; who cover their houses with marbles;
+who sew the price of whole farms into their garments with a single thread&mdash;What
+was ever wanting to this naked old man?&nbsp; Ye drink from a gem; he
+satisfied nature from the hollow of his hands.&nbsp; Ye weave gold into
+your tunics; he had not even the vilest garment of your bond-slave.&nbsp;
+But, on the other hand, to that poor man Paradise is open; you, gilded
+as you are, Gehenna will receive.&nbsp; He, though naked, kept the garment
+of Christ; you, clothed in silk, have lost Christ&rsquo;s robe.&nbsp;
+Paul lies covered with the meanest dust, to rise in glory; you are crushed
+by wrought sepulchres of stone, to burn with all your works.&nbsp; Spare,
+I beseech you, yourselves; spare, at least, the riches which you love.&nbsp;
+Why do you wrap even your dead in golden vestments?&nbsp; Why does not
+ambition stop amid grief and tears?&nbsp; Cannot the corpses of the
+rich decay, save in silk?&nbsp; I beseech thee, whosoever thou art that
+readest this, to remember Hieronymus the sinner, who, if the Lord gave
+him choice, would much sooner choose Paul&rsquo;s tunic with his merits,
+than the purple of kings with their punishments.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>This is the story of Paul and Antony, as told by Jerome.&nbsp; But,
+in justice to Antony himself, it must be said that the sayings recorded
+of him seem to show that he was not the mere visionary ascetic which
+his biographers have made him.&nbsp; Some twenty sermons are attributed
+to him, seven of which only are considered to be genuine.&nbsp; A rule
+for monks, too, is called his: but, as it is almost certain that he
+could neither read nor write, we have no proof that any of these documents
+convey his actual language.&nbsp; If the seven sermons attributed to
+him be really his, it must be said for them that they are full of sound
+doctrine and vital religion, and worthy, as wholes, to be preached in
+any English church, if we only substitute for the word &ldquo;monk,&rdquo;
+the word &ldquo;man.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there are records of Antony which represent him as a far more
+genial and human personage; full of a knowledge of human nature, and
+of a tenderness and sympathy, which account for his undoubted power
+over the minds of men; and showing, too, at times, a certain covert
+and &ldquo;pawky&rdquo; humour which puts us in mind, as does the humour
+of many of the Egyptian hermits, of the old-fashioned Scotch.&nbsp;
+These reminiscences are contained in the &ldquo;Words of the Elders,&rdquo;
+a series of anecdotes of the desert fathers collected by various hands;
+which are, after all, the most interesting and probably the most trustworthy
+accounts of them and their ways.&nbsp; I shall have occasion to quote
+them later.&nbsp; I insert here some among them which relate to Antony.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>SAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE &ldquo;WORDS OF THE ELDERS.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>A monk gave away his wealth to the poor, but kept back some for himself.&nbsp;
+Antony said to him, &ldquo;Go to the village and buy meat, and bring
+it to me on thy bare back.&rdquo;&nbsp; He did so: and the dogs and
+birds attacked him, and tore him as well as the meat.&nbsp; Quoth Antony,
+&ldquo;So are those who renounce the world, and yet must needs have
+money, torn by d&aelig;mons.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony heard high praise of a certain brother; but, when he tested
+him, he found that he was impatient under injury.&nbsp; Quoth Antony,
+&ldquo;Thou art like a house which has a gay porch, but is broken into
+by thieves through the back door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, as he sat in the desert, was weary in heart, and said, &ldquo;Lord,
+I long to be saved, but my wandering thoughts will not let me.&nbsp;
+Show me what I shall do.&rdquo;&nbsp; And looking up, he saw one like
+himself twisting ropes, and rising up to pray.&nbsp; And the angel (for
+it was one) said to him, &ldquo;Work like me, Antony, and you shall
+be saved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One asked him how he could please God.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Have
+God always before thine eyes; whatever work thou doest, take example
+for it out of Holy Scripture: wherever thou stoppest, do not move thence
+in a hurry, but abide there in patience.&nbsp; If thou keepest these
+three things, thou shalt be saved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If the baker did not cover the mill-horse&rsquo;s
+eyes he would eat the corn, and take his own wages.&nbsp; So God covers
+our eyes, by leaving us to sordid thoughts, lest we should think of
+our own good works, and be puffed up in spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;I saw all the snares of the enemy spread over
+the whole earth.&nbsp; And I sighed, and said, &lsquo;Who can pass through
+these?&rsquo;&nbsp; And a voice came to me, saying, &lsquo;Humility
+alone can pass through, Antony, where the proud can in no wise go.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony was sitting in his cell, and a voice said to him, &ldquo;Thou
+hast not yet come to the stature of a currier, who lives in Alexandria.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then he took his staff, and went down to Alexandria; and the currier,
+when he found him, was astonished at seeing so great a man.&nbsp; Said
+Antony, &ldquo;Tell me thy works; for on thy account have I come out
+of the desert.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he answered, &ldquo;I know not that
+I ever did any good; and, therefore, when I rise in the morning, I say
+that this whole city, from the greatest to the least, will enter into
+the kingdom of God for their righteousness: while I, for my sins, shall
+go to eternal pain.&nbsp; And this I say over again, from the bottom
+of my heart, when I lie down at night.&rdquo;&nbsp; When Antony heard
+that, he said, &ldquo;Like a good goldsmith, thou hast gained the kingdom
+of God sitting still in thy house; while I, as one without discretion,
+have been haunting the desert all my time, and yet not arrived at the
+measure of thy saying.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If a monk could tell his elders how many steps
+he walks, or how many cups of water he drinks, in his cell, he ought
+to tell them, for fear of going wrong therein.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At Alexandria, Antony met one Didymus, most learned in the Scriptures,
+witty, and wise: but he was blind.&nbsp; Antony asked him, &ldquo;Art
+thou not grieved at thy blindness?&rdquo;&nbsp; He was silent: but being
+pressed by Antony, he confessed that he was sad thereat.&nbsp; Quoth
+Antony, &ldquo;I wonder that a prudent man grieves over the loss of
+a thing which ants, and flies, and gnats have, instead of rejoicing
+in that possession which the holy Apostles earned.&nbsp; For it is better
+to see with the spirit than with the flesh.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A Father asked Antony, &ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth
+the old man, &ldquo;Trust not in thine own righteousness; regret not
+the thing which is past; bridle thy tongue and thy stomach.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;He who sits still in the desert is safe from
+three enemies: from hearing, from speech, from sight: and has to fight
+against only one, his own heart.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A young monk came and told Antony how he had seen some old men weary
+on their journey, and had bidden the wild asses to come and carry him,
+and they came.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;That monk looks to me like
+a ship laden with a precious cargo; but whether it will get into port
+is uncertain.&rdquo;&nbsp; And after some days he began to tear his
+hair and weep; and when they asked him why, he said, &ldquo;A great
+pillar of the Church has just fallen;&rdquo; and he sent brothers to
+see the young man, and found him sitting on his mat, weeping over a
+great sin which he had done; and he said, &ldquo;Tell Antony to give
+me ten days&rsquo; truce, and I hope I shall satisfy him;&rdquo; and
+in five days he was dead.</p>
+<p>Abbot Elias fell into temptation, and the brethren drove him out.&nbsp;
+Then he went to the mountain to Antony.&nbsp; After awhile, Antony sent
+him home to his brethren; but they would not receive him.&nbsp; Then
+the old man sent to them, and saying, &ldquo;A ship has been wrecked
+at sea, and lost all its cargo; and, with much toil, the ship is come
+empty to land.&nbsp; Will you sink it again in the sea?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So they took Elias back.</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;There are some who keep their bodies in abstinence:
+but, because they have no discretion, they are far from God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A hunter came by, and saw Antony rejoicing with the brethren, and
+it displeased him.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Put an arrow in thy bow,
+and draw;&rdquo; and he did.&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Draw higher;&rdquo;
+and again, &ldquo;Draw higher still.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he said, &ldquo;If
+I overdraw, I shall break my bow.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;So
+it is in the work of God.&nbsp; If we stretch the brethren beyond measure,
+they fail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother said to Antony, &ldquo;Pray for me.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth
+he, &ldquo;I cannot pity thee, nor God either, unless thou pitiest thyself,
+and prayest to God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;The Lord does not permit wars to arise in this
+generation, because he knows that men are weak, and cannot bear them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Antony, as he considered the depths of the judgments of God, failed;
+and said, &ldquo;Lord, why do some die so early, and some live on to
+a decrepit age?&nbsp; Why are some needy, and others rich?&nbsp; Why
+are the unjust wealthy, and the just poor?&rdquo;&nbsp; And a voice
+came to him, &ldquo;Antony, look to thyself.&nbsp; These are the judgments
+of God, which are not fit for thee to know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony to Abbot Pastor, &ldquo;This is a man&rsquo;s great
+business&mdash;to lay each man his own fault on himself before the Lord,
+and to expect temptation to the last day of his life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;If a man works a few days, and then is idle,
+and works again and is idle again, he does nothing, and will not possess
+the perseverance of patience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony to his disciples, &ldquo;If you try to keep silence,
+do not think that you are exercising a virtue, but that you are unworthy
+to speak.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Certain old men came once to Antony; and he wished to prove them,
+and began to talk of holy Scripture, and to ask them, beginning at the
+youngest, what this and that text meant.&nbsp; And each answered as
+best they could.&nbsp; But he kept on saying, &ldquo;You have not yet
+found it out.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at last he asked Abbot Joseph, &ldquo;And
+what dost thou think this text means?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Abbot Joseph,
+&ldquo;I do not know.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Antony, &ldquo;Abbot Joseph
+alone has found out the way, for he says he does not know it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;I do not now fear God, but love Him, for love
+drives out fear.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He said again, &ldquo;Life and death are very near us; for if we
+gain our brother, we gain God: but if we cause our brother to offend,
+we sin against Christ.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A philosopher asked Antony, &ldquo;How art thou content, father,
+since thou hast not the comfort of books?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Antony,
+&ldquo;My book is the nature of created things.&nbsp; In it, when I
+choose, I can read the words of God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Brethren came to Antony, and asked of him a saying by which they
+might be saved.&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;Ye have heard the Scriptures,
+and know what Christ requires of you.&rdquo;&nbsp; But they begged that
+he would tell them something of his own.&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;The
+Gospel says, &lsquo;If a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the
+other.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; But they said that they could not do that.&nbsp;
+Quoth he, &ldquo;You cannot turn the other cheek to him?&nbsp; Then
+let him smite you again on the same one.&rdquo;&nbsp; But they said
+they could not do that either.&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;If you cannot,
+at least do not return evil for evil.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when they said
+that neither could they do that, quoth Antony to his disciples, &ldquo;Go,
+get them something to eat, for they are very weak.&rdquo;&nbsp; And
+he said to them, &ldquo;If you cannot do the one, and will not have
+the other, what do you want?&nbsp; As I see, what you want is prayer.&nbsp;
+That will heal your weakness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;He who would be free from his sins must be so
+by weeping and mourning; and he who would be built up in virtue must
+be built up by tears.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Quoth Antony, &ldquo;When the stomach is full of meat, forthwith
+the great vices bubble out, according to that which the Saviour says:
+&lsquo;That which entereth into the mouth defileth not a man; but that
+which cometh out of the heart sinks a man in destruction.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>[This may be a somewhat paradoxical application of the text: but
+the last anecdote of Antony which I shall quote is full of wisdom and
+humanity.]</p>
+<p>A monk came from Alexandria, Eulogius by name, bringing with him
+a man afflicted with elephantiasis.&nbsp; Now Eulogius had been a scholar,
+learned, and rich, and had given away all he had save a very little,
+which he kept because he could not work with his own hands.</p>
+<p>And he told Antony how he had found that wretched man lying in the
+street fifteen years before, having lost then nearly every member save
+his tongue, and how he had taken him home to his cell, nursed him, bathed
+him, physicked him, fed him; and how the man had returned him nothing
+save slanders, curses, and insults; how he had insisted on having meat,
+and had had it; and on going out in public, and had company brought
+to him; and how he had at last demanded to be put down again whence
+he had been taken, always cursing and slandering.&nbsp; And now Eulogius
+could bear the man no longer, and was minded to take him at his word.</p>
+<p>Then said Antony with an angry voice, &ldquo;Wilt thou cast him out,
+Eulogius?&nbsp; He who remembers that he made him, will not cast him
+out.&nbsp; If thou cast him out, he will find a better friend than thee.&nbsp;
+God will choose some one who will take him up when he is cast away.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Eulogius was terrified at these words, and held his peace.</p>
+<p>Then went Antony to the sick man, and shouted at him, &ldquo;Thou
+elephantiac, foul with mud and dirt, not worthy of the third heaven,
+wilt thou not stop shouting blasphemies against God?&nbsp; Dost thou
+not know that he who ministers to thee is Christ?&nbsp; How darest thou
+say such things against Christ?&rdquo;&nbsp; And he bade Eulogius and
+the sick man go back to their cell, and live in peace, and never part
+more.&nbsp; Both went back, and, after forty days, Eulogius died, and
+the sick man shortly after, &ldquo;altogether whole in spirit.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>HILARION</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>I would gladly, did space allow, give more biographies from among
+those of the Egyptian hermits: but it seems best, having shown the reader
+Antony as the father of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his great pupil
+Hilarion, the father of monachism in Palestine.&nbsp; His life stands
+written at length by St. Jerome, who himself died a monk at Bethlehem;
+and is composed happily in a less ambitious and less rugged style than
+that of Paul, not without elements of beauty, even of tragedy.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<h3>PROLOGUE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Remember me in thy holy prayers, glory and honour of virgins, nun
+Asella.&nbsp; Before beginning to write the life of the blessed Hilarion,
+I invoke the Holy Spirit which dwelt in him, that, as he largely bestowed
+virtues on Hilarion, he may give to me speech wherewith to relate them;
+so that his deeds may be equalled by my language.&nbsp; For those who
+(as Crispus says) &ldquo;have wrought virtues&rdquo; are held to have
+been worthily praised in proportion to the words in which famous intellects
+have been able to extol them.&nbsp; Alexander the Great, the Macedonian
+(whom Daniel calls either the brass, or the leopard, or the he-goat),
+on coming to the tomb of Achilles, &ldquo;Happy art thou, youth,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;who hast been blest with a great herald of thy worth&rdquo;&mdash;meaning
+Homer.&nbsp; But I have to tell the conversation and life of such and
+so great a man, that even Homer, were he here, would either envy my
+matter, or succumb under it.</p>
+<p>For although St. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamina in Cyprus, who had
+much intercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a short epistle,
+which is commonly read, yet it is one thing to praise the dead in general
+phrases, another to relate his special virtues.&nbsp; We therefore set
+to work rather to his advantage than to his injury; and despise those
+evil-speakers who lately carped at Paul, and will perhaps now carp at
+my Hilarion, unjustly blaming the former for his solitary life, and
+the latter for his intercourse with men; in order that the one, who
+was never seen, may be supposed not to have existed; the other, who
+was seen by many, may be held cheap.&nbsp; This was the way of their
+ancestors likewise, the Pharisees, who were neither satisfied with John&rsquo;s
+desert life and fasting, nor with the Lord Saviour&rsquo;s public life,
+eating and drinking.&nbsp; But I shall lay my hand to the work which
+I have determined, and pass by, with stopped ears, the hounds of Scylla.&nbsp;
+I pray that thou mayest persevere in Christ, and be mindful of me in
+thy prayers, most sacred virgin.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<h3>THE LIFE</h3>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Hilarion was born in the village of Thabatha, which lies about five
+miles to the south of Gaza, in Palestine.&nbsp; He had parents given
+to the worship of idols, and blossomed (as the saying is) a rose among
+the thorns.&nbsp; Sent by them to Alexandria, he was entrusted to a
+grammarian, and there, as far as his years allowed, gave proof of great
+intellect and good morals.&nbsp; He was soon dear to all, and skilled
+in the art of speaking.&nbsp; And, what is more than all, he believed
+in the Lord Jesus, and delighted neither in the madness of the circus,
+in the blood of the arena, or in the luxury of the theatre: but all
+his heart was in the congregation of the Church.</p>
+<p>But hearing the then famous name of Antony, which was carried throughout
+all Egypt, he was fired with a longing to visit him, and went to the
+desert.&nbsp; As soon as he saw him he changed his dress, and stayed
+with him about two months, watching the order of his life, and the purity
+of his manner; how frequent he was in prayers, how humble in receiving
+brethren, severe in reproving them, eager in exhorting them; and how
+no infirmity ever broke through his continence, and the coarseness of
+his food.&nbsp; But, unable to bear longer the crowd which assembled
+round Antony, for various diseases and attacks of devils, he said that
+it was not consistent to endure in the desert the crowds of cities,
+but that he must rather begin where Antony had begun.&nbsp; Antony,
+as a valiant man, was receiving the reward of victory: he had not yet
+begun to serve as a soldier.&nbsp; He returned, therefore, with certain
+monks to his own country; and, finding his parents dead, gave away part
+of his substance to the brethren, part to the poor, and kept nothing
+at all for himself, fearing what is told in the Acts of the Apostles,
+the example or punishment, of Ananias and Sapphira; and especially mindful
+of the Lord&rsquo;s saying&mdash;&ldquo;He that leaveth not all that
+he hath, he cannot be my disciple.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He was then fifteen years old.&nbsp; So, naked, but armed in Christ,
+he entered the desert, which, seven miles from Maiuma, the port of Gaza,
+turns away to the left of those who go along the shore towards Egypt.&nbsp;
+And though the place was blood-stained by robbers, and his relations
+and friends warned him of the imminent danger, he despised death, in
+order to escape death.&nbsp; All wondered at his spirit, wondered at
+his youth.&nbsp; Save that a certain fire of the bosom and spark of
+faith glittered in his eyes, his cheeks were smooth, his body delicate
+and thin, unable to bear any injury, and liable to be overcome by even
+a light chill or heat.</p>
+<p>So, covering his limbs only with a sackcloth, and having a cloak
+of skin, which the blessed Antony had given him at starting, and a rustic
+cloak, between the sea and the swamp, he enjoyed the vast and terrible
+solitude, feeding on only fifteen figs after the setting of the sun;
+and because the region was, as has been said above, of ill-repute from
+robberies, no man had ever stayed before in that place.&nbsp; The devil,
+seeing what he was doing and whither he had gone, was tormented.&nbsp;
+And though he, who of old boasted, saying, &ldquo;I shall ascend into
+heaven, I shall sit above the stars of heaven, and shall be like unto
+the Most High,&rdquo; now saw that he had been conquered by a boy, and
+trampled under foot by him, ere, on account of his youth, he could commit
+sin.&nbsp; He therefore began to tempt his senses; but he, enraged with
+himself, and beating his breast with his fist, as if he could drive
+out thoughts by blows, &ldquo;I will force thee, mine ass,&rdquo; said
+he, &ldquo;not to kick; and feed thee with straw, not barley.&nbsp;
+I will wear thee out with hunger and thirst; I will burden thee with
+heavy loads; I will hunt thee through heat and cold, till thou thinkest
+more of food than of play.&rdquo;&nbsp; He therefore sustained his fainting
+spirit with the juice of herbs and a few figs, after each three or four
+days, praying frequently, and singing psalms, and digging the ground
+with a mattock, to double the labour of fasting by that of work.&nbsp;
+At the same time, by weaving baskets of rushes, he imitated the discipline
+of the Egyptian monks, and the Apostle&rsquo;s saying&mdash;&ldquo;He
+that will not work, neither let him eat&rdquo;&mdash;till he was so
+attenuated, and his body so exhausted, that it scarce clung to his bones.</p>
+<p>One night he began to hear the crying <a name="citation108"></a><a href="#footnote108">{108}</a>
+of infants, the bleating of sheep, the wailing of women, the roaring
+of lions, the murmur of an army, and utterly portentous and barbarous
+voices; so that he shrank frightened by the sound ere he saw aught.&nbsp;
+He understood these to be the insults of devils; and, falling on his
+knees, he signed the cross of Christ on his forehead, and armed with
+that helmet, and girt with the breastplate of faith, he fought more
+valiantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he shuddered to hear,
+and looking round him with anxious eyes: when, without warning, by the
+bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery horses rushing upon him.&nbsp;
+But when he had called on Jesus, the earth opened suddenly, and the
+whole pomp was swallowed up before his eyes.&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;The
+horse and his rider he hath drowned in the sea;&rdquo; and &ldquo;Some
+glory themselves in chariots, and some in horses: but we in the name
+of the Lord our God.&rdquo;&nbsp; Many were his temptations, and various,
+by day and night, the snares of the devils.&nbsp; If we were to tell
+them all, they would make the volume too long.&nbsp; How often did women
+appear to him; how often plenteous banquets when he was hungry.&nbsp;
+Sometimes as he prayed, a howling wolf ran past him, or a barking fox;
+or as he sang, a fight of gladiators made a show for him: and one of
+them, as if slain, falling at his feet, prayed for sepulture.&nbsp;
+He prayed once with his head bowed to the ground, and&mdash;as is the
+nature of man&mdash;his mind wandered from his prayer, and thought of
+I know not what, when a mocking rider leaped on his back, and spurring
+his sides, and whipping his neck, &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he cries, &ldquo;come,
+run! why do you sleep?&rdquo; and, laughing loudly over him, asked him
+if he were tired, or would have a feed of barley.</p>
+<p>So from his sixteenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltered from
+the heat and rain in a tiny cabin, which he had woven of rush and sedge.&nbsp;
+Afterwards he built a little cell, which remains to this day, four feet
+wide and five feet high&mdash;that is, lower than his own stature&mdash;and
+somewhat longer than his small body needed, so that you would believe
+it to be a tomb rather than a dwelling.&nbsp; He cut his hair only once
+a year, on Easter-day, and lay till his death on the bare ground and
+a layer of rushes, never washing the sack in which he was clothed, and
+saying that it was superfluous to seek for cleanliness in haircloth.&nbsp;
+Nor did he change his tunic, till the first was utterly in rags.&nbsp;
+He knew the Scriptures by heart, and recited them after his prayers
+and psalms as if God were present.&nbsp; And, because it would take
+up too much time to tell his great deeds one by one, I will give a short
+account of them.</p>
+<p>[Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those attributed to
+St. Antony, and, indeed, to all these great Hermit Fathers.&nbsp; But
+it is unnecessary to relate more wonders which the reader cannot be
+expected to believe.&nbsp; These miracles, however, according to St.
+Jerome, were the foundations of Hilarion&rsquo;s fame and public career.&nbsp;
+For he says, &ldquo;When they were noised abroad, people flowed to him
+eagerly from Syria to Egypt, so that many believed in Christ, and professed
+themselves to be monks&mdash;for no one had known of a monk in Syria
+before the holy Hilarion.&nbsp; He was the first founder and teacher
+of this conversation and study in the province.&nbsp; The Lord Jesus
+had in Egypt the old man Antony; he had in Palestine the young Hilarion
+. . .&nbsp; He was raised, indeed, by the Lord to such a glory, that
+the blessed Antony, hearing of his conversation, wrote to him, and willingly
+received his letters; and if rich people came to him from the parts
+of Syria, he said to them, &lsquo;Why have you chosen to trouble yourselves
+by coming so far, when you have at home my son Hilarion?&rsquo;&nbsp;
+So by his example innumerable monasteries arose throughout all Palestine,
+and all monks came eagerly to him . . . But what a care he had, not
+to pass by any brother, however humble or however poor, may be shown
+by this; that once going into the Desert of Kadesh, to visit one of
+his disciples, he came, with an infinite crowd of monks, to Elusa, on
+the very day, as it chanced, on which a yearly solemnity had gathered
+all the people of the town to the Temple of Venus; for they honour her
+on account of the morning star, to the worship of which the nation of
+the Saracens is devoted.&nbsp; The town itself too is said to be in
+great part semi-barbarous, on account of its remote situation.&nbsp;
+Hearing, then, that the holy Hilarion was passing by&mdash;for he had
+often cured Saracens possessed with d&aelig;mons&mdash;they came out
+to meet him in crowds, with their wives and children, bowing their necks,
+and crying in the Syrian tongue, &lsquo;Barech!&rsquo; that is, &lsquo;Bless!&rsquo;&nbsp;
+He received them courteously and humbly, entreating them to worship
+God rather than stones, and wept abundantly, looking up to heaven, and
+promising them that, if they would believe in Christ, he would come
+oftener to them.&nbsp; Wonderful was the grace of the Lord.&nbsp; They
+would not let him depart till he had laid the foundations of a future
+church, and their priest, crowned as he was, had been consecrated with
+the sign of Christ.</p>
+<p>*******</p>
+<p>He was now sixty-three years old.&nbsp; He saw about him a great
+monastery, a multitude of brethren, and crowds who came to be healed
+of diseases and unclean spirits, filling the solitude around; but he
+wept daily, and remembered with incredible regret his ancient life.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I have returned to the world,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and received
+my reward in this life.&nbsp; All Palestine and the neighbouring provinces
+think me to be worth somewhat; while I possess a farm and household
+goods, under the pretext of the brethren&rsquo;s advantage.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+On which the brethren, and especially Hesychius, who bore him a wondrous
+love, watched him narrowly.</p>
+<p>When he had lived thus sadly for two years, Arist&aelig;neta, the
+Prefect&rsquo;s wife, came to him, wishing him to go with her to Antony,
+&ldquo;I would go,&rdquo; he said, weeping, &ldquo;if I were not held
+in the prison of this monastery, and if it were of any use.&nbsp; For
+two days since, the whole world was robbed of such a father.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+She believed him, and stopped.&nbsp; And Antony&rsquo;s death was confirmed
+a few days after.&nbsp; Others may wonder at the signs and portents
+which he did, at his incredible abstinence, his silence, his miracles:
+I am astonished at nothing so much as that he was able to trample under
+foot that glory and honour.</p>
+<p>Bishops and clergy, monks and Christian matrons (a great temptation),
+people of the common sort, great men, too, and judges crowded to him,
+to receive from him blessed bread or oil.&nbsp; But he was thinking
+of nothing but the desert, till one day he determined to set out, and
+taking an ass (for he was so shrunk with fasting that he could hardly
+walk), he tried to go his way.&nbsp; The news got wind; the desolation
+and destruction of Palestine would ensue; ten thousand souls, men and
+women, tried to stop his way; but he would not hear them.&nbsp; Smiting
+on the ground with his staff, he said, &ldquo;I will not make my God
+a liar.&nbsp; I cannot bear to see churches ruined, the altars of Christ
+trampled down, the blood of my sons spilt.&rdquo;&nbsp; All who heard
+thought that some secret revelation had been made to him: but yet they
+would not let him go.&nbsp; Whereon he would neither eat nor drink,
+and for seven days he persevered fasting, till he had his wish, and
+set out for Bethulia, with forty monks, who could march without food
+till sundown.&nbsp; On the fifth day he came to Pelusium, then to the
+camp Thebatrum, to see Dracontius; and then to Babylon to see Philo.&nbsp;
+These two were bishops and confessors exiled by Constantius, who favoured
+the Arian heresy.&nbsp; Then he came to Aphroditon, where he met Barsanes
+the deacon, who used to carry water to Antony on dromedaries, and heard
+from him that the anniversary Antony&rsquo;s death was near, and would
+be celebrated by a vigil at his tomb.&nbsp; Then through a vast and
+horrible wilderness, he went for three days to a very high mountain,
+and found there two monks, Isaac and Pelusianus, of whom Isaac had been
+Antony&rsquo;s interpreter.</p>
+<p>A high and rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at its foot.&nbsp;
+Some of them the sand sucked up; some formed a little rill, with palms
+without number on its banks.&nbsp; There you might have seen the old
+man wandering to and fro with Antony&rsquo;s disciples.&nbsp; &ldquo;Here,&rdquo;
+they said, &ldquo;he used to sing, here to pray, here to work, here
+to sit when tired.&nbsp; These vines, these shrubs, he planted himself;
+that plot he laid out with his own hands.&nbsp; This pond to water the
+garden he made with heavy toil; that hoe he kept for many years.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Hilarion lay on his bed, and kissed the couch, as if it were still warm.&nbsp;
+Antony&rsquo;s cell was only large enough to let a man lie down in it;
+and on the mountain top, reached by a difficult and winding stair, were
+two other cells of the same size, cut in the stony rock, to which he
+used to retire from the visitors and disciples, when they came to the
+garden.&nbsp; &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said Isaac, &ldquo;this orchard,
+with shrubs and vegetables.&nbsp; Three years since a troop of wild
+asses laid it waste.&nbsp; He bade one of their leaders stop; and beat
+it with his staff.&nbsp; &lsquo;Why do you eat,&rsquo; he asked it,
+&lsquo;what you did not sow?&rsquo;&nbsp; And after that the asses,
+though they came to drink the waters, never touched his plants.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Hilarion asked them to show him Antony&rsquo;s grave.&nbsp;
+They led him apart; but whether they showed it to him, no man knows.&nbsp;
+They hid it, they said, by Antony&rsquo;s command, lest one Pergamius,
+who was the richest man of those parts, should take the corpse to his
+villa, and build a chapel over it.</p>
+<p>Then he went back to Aphroditon, and with only two brothers, dwelt
+in the desert, in such abstinence and silence that (so he said) he then
+first began to serve Christ.&nbsp; Now it was then three years since
+the heaven had been shut, and the earth dried up: so that they said
+commonly, the very elements mourned the death of Antony.&nbsp; But Hilarion&rsquo;s
+fame spread to them; and a great multitude, brown and shrunken with
+famine, cried to him for rain, as to the blessed Antony&rsquo;s successor.&nbsp;
+He saw them, and grieved over them; and lifting up his hand to heaven,
+obtained rain at once.&nbsp; But the thirsty and sandy land, as soon
+as it was watered by showers, sent forth such a crowd of serpents and
+venomous animals that people without number were stung, and would have
+died, had they not run together to Hilarion.&nbsp; With oil blessed
+by him, the husbandmen and shepherds touched their wounds, and all were
+surely healed.</p>
+<p>But when he saw that he was marvellously honoured, he went to Alexandria,
+meaning to cross the desert to the further oasis.&nbsp; And because
+since he was a monk he had never stayed in a city, he turned aside to
+some brethren known to him in the Brucheion <a name="citation115"></a><a href="#footnote115">{115}</a>
+not far from Alexandria.&nbsp; They received him with joy: but, when
+night came on, they suddenly heard him bid his disciples saddle the
+ass.&nbsp; In vain they entreated, threw themselves across the threshold.&nbsp;
+His only answer was, that he was hastening away, lest he should bring
+them into trouble; they would soon know that he had not departed without
+good reason.&nbsp; The next day, men of Gaza came with the Prefect&rsquo;s
+lictors, burst into the monastery, and when they found him not&mdash;&ldquo;Is
+it not true,&rdquo; they said, &ldquo;what we heard?&nbsp; He is a sorcerer,
+and knows the future.&rdquo;&nbsp; For the citizens of Gaza, after Hilarion
+was gone, and Julian had succeeded to the empire, had destroyed his
+monastery, and begged from the Emperor the death of Hilarion and Hesychius.&nbsp;
+So letters had been sent forth, to seek them throughout the world.</p>
+<p>So Hilarion went by the pathless wilderness into the Oasis; <a name="citation116"></a><a href="#footnote116">{116}</a>
+and after a year, more or less&mdash;because his fame had gone before
+him even there, and he could not lie hid in the East&mdash;he was minded
+to sail away to lonely islands, that the sea at least might hide what
+the land would not.</p>
+<p>But just then Hadrian, his disciple, came from Palestine, telling
+him that Julian was slain, and that a Christian emperor was reigning;
+so that he ought to return to the relics of his monastery.&nbsp; But
+he abhorred the thought; and, hiring a camel, went over the vast desert
+to Par&aelig;tonia, a sea town of Libya.&nbsp; Then the wretched Hadrian,
+wishing to go back to Palestine and get himself glory under his master&rsquo;s
+name, packed up all that the brethren had sent by him to his master,
+and went secretly away.&nbsp; But&mdash;as a terror to those who despise
+their masters&mdash;he shortly after died of jaundice.</p>
+<p>Then, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail for
+Sicily.&nbsp; And when, almost in the middle of Adria, <a name="citation117a"></a><a href="#footnote117a">{117a}</a>
+he was going to sell the Gospels which he had written out with his own
+hand when young, to pay his fare withal, then the captain&rsquo;s son
+was possessed with a devil, and cried out, &ldquo;Hilarion, servant
+of God, why can we not be safe from thee even at sea?&nbsp; Give me
+a little respite till I come to the shore, lest, if I be cast out here,
+I fall headlong into the abyss.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then said he, &ldquo;If
+my God lets thee stay, stay.&nbsp; But if he cast thee out, why dost
+thou lay the blame on me, a sinner and a beggar?&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he
+made the captain and the crew promise not to betray him: and the devil
+was cast out.&nbsp; But the captain would take no fare when he saw that
+they had nought but those Gospels, and the clothes on their backs.&nbsp;
+And so Hilarion came to Pachynum, a cape of Sicily, <a name="citation117b"></a><a href="#footnote117b">{117b}</a>
+and fled twenty miles inland into a deserted farm; and there every day
+gathered a bundle of firewood, and put it on Zananas&rsquo;s back, who
+took it to the town, and bought a little bread thereby.</p>
+<p>But it happened, according to that which is written, &ldquo;A city
+set on an hill cannot be hid,&rdquo; one Scutarius was tormented by
+a devil in the Basilica of St. Peter at Rome; and the unclean spirit
+cried out in him, &ldquo;A few days since Hilarion, the servant of Christ,
+landed in Sicily, and no man knows him, and he thinks himself hid.&nbsp;
+I will go and betray him.&rdquo;&nbsp; And forthwith he took ship with
+his slaves, and came to Pachynum, and, by the leading of the devil,
+threw himself down before the old man&rsquo;s hut, and was cured.</p>
+<p>The frequency of his signs in Sicily drew to him sick people and
+religious men in multitudes; and one of the chief men was cured of dropsy
+the same day that he came, and offered Hilarion boundless gifts: but
+he obeyed the Saviour&rsquo;s saying, &ldquo;Freely ye have received;
+freely give.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>While this was happening in Sicily, Hesychius, his disciple, was
+seeking the old man through the world, searching the shores, penetrating
+the desert, and only certain that, wherever he was, he could not long
+be hid.&nbsp; So, after three years were past, he heard at Methone <a name="citation118"></a><a href="#footnote118">{118}</a>
+from a Jew, who was selling old clothes, that a prophet of the Christians
+had appeared in Sicily, working such wonders that he was thought to
+be one of the old saints.&nbsp; But he could give no description of
+him, having only heard common report.&nbsp; He sailed for Pachynum,
+and there, in a cottage on the shore, heard of Hilarion&rsquo;s fame&mdash;that
+which most surprised all being that, after so many signs and miracles,
+he had not accepted even a bit of bread from any man.</p>
+<p>So, &ldquo;not to make the story too long,&rdquo; as says St. Jerome,
+Hesychius fell at his master&rsquo;s knees, and watered his feet with
+tears, till at last he raised him up.&nbsp; But two or three days after
+he heard from Zananas, how the old man could dwell no longer in these
+regions, but was minded to go to some barbarous nation, where both his
+name and his speech should be unknown.&nbsp; So he took him to Epidaurus,
+<a name="citation119a"></a><a href="#footnote119a">{119a}</a> a city
+of Dalmatia, where he lay a few days in a little farm, and yet could
+not be hid; for a dragon of wondrous size&mdash;one of those which,
+in the country speech, they call boas, because they are so huge that
+they can swallow an ox&mdash;laid waste the province, and devoured not
+only herds and flocks, but husbandmen and shepherds, which he drew to
+him by the force of his breath. <a name="citation119b"></a><a href="#footnote119b">{119b}</a>&nbsp;
+Hilarion commanded a pile of wood to be prepared, and having prayed
+to Christ, and called the beast forth, commanded him to ascend the pile,
+and having put fire under, burnt him before all the people.&nbsp; Then
+fretting over what he should do, or whither he should turn, he went
+alone over the world in imagination, and mourned that, when his tongue
+was silent, his miracles still spoke.</p>
+<p>In those days, at the earthquake over the whole world, which befell
+after Julian&rsquo;s death, the sea broke its bounds; and, as if God
+was threatening another flood, or all was returning to the prim&aelig;val
+chaos, ships were carried up steep rocks, and hung there.&nbsp; But
+when the Epidauritans saw roaring waves and mountains of water borne
+towards the shore, fearing lest the town should be utterly overthrown,
+they went out to the old man, and, as if they were leading him out to
+battle, stationed him on the shore.&nbsp; And when he had marked three
+signs of the Cross upon the sand, and stretched out his hands against
+the waves, it is past belief to what a height the sea swelled, and stood
+up before him, and then, raging long as if indignant at the barrier,
+fell back little by little into itself.</p>
+<p>All Epidaurus, and all that region, talk of this to this day; and
+mothers teach it their children, that they may hand it down to posterity.&nbsp;
+Truly, that which was said to the Apostles, &ldquo;If ye believe, ye
+shall say to this mountain, Be removed, and cast into the sea; and it
+shall be done,&rdquo; can be fulfilled even to the letter, if we have
+the faith of the Apostles, and such as the Lord commanded them to have.&nbsp;
+For which is more strange, that a mountain should descend into the sea;
+or that mountains of water should stiffen of a sudden, and, firm as
+a rock only at an old man&rsquo;s feet, should flow softly everywhere
+else?&nbsp; All the city wondered; and the greatness of the sign was
+bruited abroad even at Salo.</p>
+<p>When the old man discovered that, he fled secretly by night in a
+little boat, and finding a merchantman after two days, sailed for Cyprus.&nbsp;
+Between Male&aelig; and Cythera <a name="citation121"></a><a href="#footnote121">{121}</a>
+they were met by pirates, who had left their vessels under the shore,
+and came up in two large galleys, worked not with sails, but oars.&nbsp;
+As the rowers swept the billows, all on board began to tremble, weep,
+run about, get handspikes ready, and, as if one messenger was not enough,
+vie with each other in telling the old man that pirates were at hand.&nbsp;
+He looked out at them and smiled.&nbsp; Then turning to his disciples,
+&ldquo;O ye of little faith,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;wherefore do ye
+doubt?&nbsp; Are these more in number than Pharaoh&rsquo;s army?&nbsp;
+Yet they were all drowned when God so willed.&rdquo;&nbsp; While he
+spoke, the hostile keels, with foaming beaks, were but a short stone&rsquo;s
+throw off.&nbsp; He then stood on the ship&rsquo;s bow, and stretching
+out his hand against them, &ldquo;Let it be enough,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;to have come thus far.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>O wondrous faith!&nbsp; The boats instantly sprang back, and made
+stern-way, although the oars impelled them in the opposite direction.&nbsp;
+The pirates were astonished, having no wish to return back-foremost,
+and struggled with all their might to reach the ship; but were carried
+to the shore again, much faster than they had come.</p>
+<p>I pass over the rest, lest by telling every story I make the volume
+too long.&nbsp; This only I will say, that, while he sailed prosperously
+through the Cyclades, he heard the voices of foul spirits, calling here
+and there out of the towns and villages, and running together on the
+beaches.&nbsp; So he came to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous once
+in poets&rsquo; songs, which now, shaken down by frequent earthquakes,
+only shows what it has been of yore by the foundations of its ruins.&nbsp;
+There he dwelt meanly near the second milestone out of the city, rejoicing
+much that he was living quietly for a few days.&nbsp; But not three
+weeks were past, ere throughout the whole island whosoever had unclean
+spirits began to cry that Hilarion the servant of Christ was come, and
+that they must hasten to him.&nbsp; Salonica, Curium, Lapetha, and the
+other towns, all cried this together, most saying that they knew Hilarion,
+and that he was truly a servant of God; but where he was they knew not.&nbsp;
+Within a month, nearly 200 men and women were gathered together to him.&nbsp;
+Whom when he saw, grieving that they would not suffer him to rest, raging,
+as it were to revenge himself, he scourged them with such an instancy
+of prayer, that some were cured at once, some after two or three days,
+and all within a week.</p>
+<p>So staying there two years, and always meditating flight, he sent
+Hesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, visit the ashes of the
+monastery, and return in the spring.&nbsp; When he returned, and Hilarion
+was longing to sail again to Egypt,&mdash;that is, to the cattle pastures,
+<a name="citation123a"></a><a href="#footnote123a">{123a}</a> because
+there is no Christian there, but only a fierce and barbarous folk,&mdash;he
+persuaded the old man rather to withdraw into some more secret spot
+in the island itself.&nbsp; And looking round it long till he had examined
+it all over, he led him away twelve miles from the sea, among lonely
+and rough mountains, where they could hardly climb up, creeping on hands
+and knees.&nbsp; When they were within, they beheld a spot terrible
+and very lonely, surrounded with trees, which had, too, waters falling
+from the brow of a cliff, and a most pleasant little garden, and many
+fruit-trees&mdash;the fruit of which, however, Hilarion never ate&mdash;and
+near it the ruin of a very ancient temple, <a name="citation123b"></a><a href="#footnote123b">{123b}</a>
+out of which (so he and his disciples averred) the voices of so many
+d&aelig;mons resounded day and night, that you would have fancied an
+army there.&nbsp; With which he was exceedingly delighted, because he
+had his foes close to him; and dwelt therein five years; and (while
+Hesychius often visited him) he was much cheered up in this last period
+of his life, because owing to the roughness and difficulty of the ground,
+and the multitude of ghosts (as was commonly reported), few, or none,
+ever dare climb up to him.</p>
+<p>But one day, going out of the little garden, he saw a man paralytic
+in all his limbs, lying before the gate; and having asked Hesychius
+who he was, and how he had come, he was told that the man was the steward
+of a small estate, and that to him the garden, in which they were, belonged.&nbsp;
+Hilarion, weeping over him, and stretching a hand to him as he lay,
+said, &ldquo;I say to thee, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, arise
+and walk.&rdquo;&nbsp; Wonderful was the rapidity of the effect.&nbsp;
+The words were yet in his mouth, when the limbs, strengthened, raised
+the man upon his feet.&nbsp; As soon as it was known, the needs of many
+conquered the difficulty of the ground, and the want of a path, while
+all in the neighbourhood watched nothing so carefully, as that he should
+not by some plan slip away from them.&nbsp; For the report had been
+spread about him, that he could not remain long in the same place; which
+nevertheless he did not do from any caprice, or childishness, but to
+escape honour and importunity; for he always longed after silence, and
+an ignoble life.</p>
+<p>So, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was absent,
+he wrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his own hand, leaving
+to Hesychius all his riches; namely, his Gospel-book, and a sackcloth-shirt,
+hood, and mantle.&nbsp; For his servant had died a few days before.&nbsp;
+Many religious men came to him from Paphos while he was sick, especially
+because they had heard that he had said that now he was going to migrate
+to the Lord, and be freed from the chains of the body.&nbsp; There came
+also Constantia, a high-born lady, whose son-in-law and daughter he
+had delivered from death by anointing them with oil.&nbsp; And he made
+them all swear, that he should not be kept an hour after his death,
+but covered up with earth in that same garden, clothed, as he was, in
+his haircloth shirt, hood, and rustic cloak.&nbsp; And now little heat
+was left in his body, and nothing of a living man was left, except his
+reason: and yet, with open eyes, he went on saying, &ldquo;Go forth,
+what fearest thou?&nbsp; Go forth, my soul, what doubtest thou?&nbsp;
+Nigh seventy years hast thou served Christ, and dost thou fear death?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+With these words, he breathed out his soul.&nbsp; They covered him forthwith
+in earth, and told them in the city that he was buried, before it was
+known that he was dead.</p>
+<p>The holy man Hesychius heard this in Palestine; reached Cyprus; and
+pretending, in order to prevent suspicion on the part of the neighbours,
+who guarded the spot diligently, that he wished to dwell in that same
+garden, he, after some ten months, with extreme peril of his life, stole
+the corpse.&nbsp; He carried it to Maiuma, followed by whole crowds
+of monks and townsfolk, and placed it in the old monastery, with the
+shirt, hood, and cloak unhurt; the whole body perfect, as if alive,
+and fragrant with such strong odour, that it seemed to have had unguents
+poured over it.</p>
+<p>I think that I ought not, in the end of my book, to be silent about
+the devotion of that most holy woman Constantia, who, hearing that the
+body of Hilarion, the servant of God, was gone to Palestine, straightway
+gave up the ghost, proving by her very death her true love for the servant
+of God.&nbsp; For she was wont to pass nights in watching his sepulchre,
+and to converse with him as if he were present, in order to assist her
+prayers.&nbsp; You may see, even to this day, a wonderful contention
+between the folk of Palestine and the Cypriots, the former saying that
+they have the body, the latter that they have the soul, of Hilarion.&nbsp;
+And yet, in both places, great signs are worked daily; but most in the
+little garden in Cyprus; perhaps because he loved that place the best.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Such is the story of Hilarion.&nbsp; His name still lingers in &ldquo;the
+place he loved the best.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;To this day,&rdquo; I quote
+this fact from M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s work, &ldquo;the Cypriots,
+confounding in their memories legends of good and of evil, the victories
+of the soul and the triumph of the senses, give to the ruins of one
+of those strong castles built by the Lusignans, which command their
+isle, the double name of the Castle of St. Hilarion, and the Castle
+of the God of Love.&rdquo;&nbsp; But how intense must have been the
+longing for solitude which drove the old man to travel on foot from
+Syria to the Egyptian desert, across the pathless westward waste, even
+to the Oasis and the utmost limits of the Egyptian province; and then
+to Sicily, to the Adriatic, and at last to a distant isle of Greece.&nbsp;
+And shall we blame him for that longing?&nbsp; He seems to have done
+his duty earnestly, according to his own light, towards his fellow-creatures
+whenever he met them.&nbsp; But he seems to have found that noise and
+crowd, display and honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own
+soul; and in order that he might be a better man he desired again and
+again to flee, that he might collect himself, and be alone with Nature
+and with God.&nbsp; We, here in England, like the old Greeks and Romans,
+dwellers in the busy mart of civilized life, have got to regard mere
+bustle as so integral an element of human life, that we consider a love
+of solitude a mark of eccentricity, and, if we meet any one who loves
+to be alone, are afraid that he must needs be going mad: and that with
+too great solitude comes the danger of too great self-consciousness,
+and even at last of insanity, none can doubt.&nbsp; But still we must
+remember, on the other hand, that without solitude, without contemplation,
+without habitual collection and re-collection of our own selves from
+time to time, no great purpose is carried out, and no great work can
+be done; and that it is the bustle and hurry of our modern life which
+causes shallow thought, unstable purpose, and wasted energy, in too
+many who would be better and wiser, stronger and happier, if they would
+devote more time to silence and meditation; if they would commune with
+their own heart in their chamber, and be still.&nbsp; Even in art and
+in mechanical science, those who have done great work upon the earth
+have been men given to solitary meditation.&nbsp; When Brindley, the
+engineer, it is said, had a difficult problem to solve, he used to go
+to bed, and stay there till he had worked it out.&nbsp; Turner, the
+greatest nature-painter of this or any other age, spent hours upon hours
+in mere contemplation of nature, without using his pencil at all.&nbsp;
+It is said of him that he was seen to spend a whole day, sitting upon
+a rock, and throwing pebbles into a lake; and when at evening his fellow
+painters showed their day&rsquo;s sketches, and rallied him upon having
+done nothing, he answered them, &ldquo;I have done this at least: I
+have learnt how a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And if this silent labour, this steadfast thought are required even
+for outward arts and sciences, how much more for the highest of all
+arts, the deepest of all sciences, that which involves the questions&mdash;who
+are we? and where are we? who is God? and what are we to God, and He
+to us?&mdash;namely, the science of being good, which deals not with
+time merely, but with eternity.&nbsp; No retirement, no loneliness,
+no period of earnest and solemn meditation, can be misspent which helps
+us towards that goal.</p>
+<p>And therefore it was that Hilarion longed to be alone; alone with
+God; and with Nature, which spoke to him of God.&nbsp; For these old
+hermits, though they neither talked nor wrote concerning scenery, nor
+painted pictures of it as we do now, had many of them a clear and intense
+instinct of the beauty and the meaning of outward Nature; as Antony
+surely had when he said that the world around was his book, wherein
+he read the mysteries of God.&nbsp; Hilarion seems, from his story,
+to have had a special craving for the sea.&nbsp; Perhaps his early sojourn
+on the low sandhills of the Philistine shore, as he watched the tideless
+Mediterranean, rolling and breaking for ever upon the same beach, had
+taught him to say with the old prophet as he thought of the wicked and
+still half idolatrous cities of the Philistine shore, &ldquo;Fear ye
+not? saith the Lord; Will ye not tremble at my presence who have placed
+the sand for the bound of the sea, for a perpetual decree, that it cannot
+pass it?&nbsp; And though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can
+they not prevail; though they roar, yet can they not pass over.&nbsp;
+But this people has a revolted and rebellious heart, they are revolted
+and gone.&rdquo;&nbsp; Perhaps again, looking down from the sunny Sicilian
+cliffs of Taormino, or through the pine-clad gulfs and gullies of the
+Cypriote hills upon the blue Mediterranean below,</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;And watching from his mountain wall<br />The wrinkled sea
+beneath him crawl,&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>he had enjoyed and profited by all those images which that sight
+has called up in so many minds before and since.&nbsp; To him it may
+be, as to the Psalmist, the storm-swept sea pictured the instability
+of mortal things, while secure upon his cliff he said with the Psalmist,
+&ldquo;The Lord hath set my feet upon a rock, and ordered my goings;&rdquo;
+and again, &ldquo;The wicked are like a troubled sea, casting up mire
+and dirt.&rdquo;&nbsp; Often, again, looking upon that far horizon,
+must his soul have been drawn, as many a soul has been drawn since,
+to it, and beyond it, as it were into a region of boundless freedom
+and perfect peace, while he said again with David, &ldquo;Oh that I
+had wings like a dove; then would I flee away and be at rest!&rdquo;
+and so have found, in the contemplation of the wide ocean, a substitute
+at least for the contemplation of those Eastern deserts which seemed
+the proper home for the solitary and meditative philosopher.</p>
+<p>For indeed in no northern country can such situations be found for
+the monastic cell as can be found in those great deserts which stretch
+from Syria to Arabia, from Arabia to Egypt, from Egypt to Africa properly
+so called.&nbsp; Here and there a northern hermit found, as Hilarion
+found, a fitting home by the seaside, on some lonely island or storm-beat
+rock, like St. Cuthbert, off the coast of Northumberland; like St. Rule,
+on his rock at St. Andrew&rsquo;s; and St. Columba, with his ever-venerable
+company of missionaries, on Iona.&nbsp; But inland, the fens and the
+forests were foul, unwholesome, depressing, the haunts of fever, ague,
+delirium, as St. Guthlac found at Crowland, and St. Godric at Finkhale.
+<a name="citation130"></a><a href="#footnote130">{130}</a>&nbsp; The
+vast pine-woods which clothe the Alpine slopes, the vast forests of
+beech and oak which then spread over France and Germany, gave in time
+shelter to many a holy hermit.&nbsp; But their gloom, their unwholesomeness,
+and the severity of the climate, produced in them, as in most northern
+ascetics, a temper of mind more melancholy, and often more fierce; more
+given to passionate devotion, but more given also to dark superstition
+and cruel self-torture, than the genial climate of the desert produced
+in old monks of the East.&nbsp; When we think of St. Antony upon his
+mountain, we must not picture to ourselves, unless we, too, have been
+in the East, such a mountain as we have ever seen.&nbsp; We must not
+think of a brown northern moorland, sad, savage, storm-swept, snow-buried,
+save in the brief and uncertain summer months.&nbsp; We must not picture
+to ourselves an Alp, with thundering avalanches, roaring torrents, fierce
+alternations of heat and cold, uninhabitable by mortal man, save during
+that short period of the year when the maidens in the sennhutt watch
+the cattle upon the upland pastures.&nbsp; We must picture to ourselves
+mountains blazing day after day, month after month, beneath the glorious
+sun and cloudless sky, in an air so invigorating that the Arabs can
+still support life there upon a few dates each day; and where, as has
+been said,&mdash;&ldquo;Man needs there hardly to eat, drink, or sleep,
+for the act of breathing will give life enough;&rdquo; an atmosphere
+of such telescopic clearness as to explain many of the strange stories
+which have been lately told of Antony&rsquo;s seemingly preternatural
+powers of vision; a colouring, which, when painters dare to put it on
+canvas, seems to our eyes, accustomed to the quiet greys and greens
+of England, exaggerated and impossible&mdash;distant mountains, pink
+and lilac, quivering in pale blue haze&mdash;vast sheets of yellow sand,
+across which the lonely rock or a troop of wild asses or gazelles throw
+intense blue-black shadows&mdash;rocks and cliffs not shrouded, as here,
+in soil, much less in grass and trees, or spotted with lichens and stained
+with veins; but keeping each stone its natural colour, as it wastes&mdash;if,
+indeed, it wastes at all&mdash;under the action of the all but rainless
+air, which has left the paintings on the old Egyptian temples fresh
+and clear for thousands of years; rocks, orange and purple, black, white,
+and yellow; and again and again beyond them <a name="citation131"></a><a href="#footnote131">{131}</a>
+glimpses, it may be, of the black Nile, and of the long green garden
+of Egypt, and of the dark blue sea.&nbsp; The eastward view from Antony&rsquo;s
+old home must be one of the most glorious in the world, save for its
+want of verdure and of life.&nbsp; For Antony, as he looked across the
+blue waters of the Gulf of Akaba, across which, far above, the Israelites
+had passed in old times, could see the sacred goal of their pilgrimage,
+the red granite peaks of Sinai, flaming against the blue sky with that
+intensity of hue which is scarcely exaggerated, it is said, by the bright
+scarlet colour in which Sinai is always painted in medi&aelig;val illuminations.</p>
+<p>But the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us, was
+not, of course, what produced the deepest effect upon the minds of those
+old hermits.&nbsp; They enjoyed Nature, not so much for her beauty,
+as for her perfect peace.&nbsp; Day by day the rocks remained the same.&nbsp;
+Silently out of the Eastern desert, day by day, the rising sun threw
+aloft those arrows of light, which the old Greeks had named &ldquo;the
+rosy fingers of the dawn.&rdquo;&nbsp; Silently he passed in full blaze
+almost above their heads throughout the day; and silently he dipped
+behind the western desert in a glory of crimson and orange, green and
+purple; and without an interval of twilight, in a moment, all the land
+was dark, and the stars leapt out, not twinkling as in our damper climate
+here, but hanging like balls of white fire in that purple southern night,
+through which one seems to look beyond the stars into the infinite abyss,
+and towards the throne of God himself.&nbsp; Day after day, night after
+night, that gorgeous pageant passed over the poor hermit&rsquo;s head
+without a sound; and though sun and moon and planet might change their
+places as the year rolled round, the earth beneath his feet seemed not
+to change.&nbsp; Every morning he saw the same peaks in the distance,
+the same rocks, the same sand-heaps around his feet.&nbsp; He never
+heard the tinkle of a running stream.&nbsp; For weeks together he did
+not even hear the rushing of the wind.&nbsp; Now and then a storm might
+sweep up the pass, whirling the sand in eddies, and making the desert
+for a while literally a &ldquo;howling wilderness;&rdquo; and when that
+was passed all was as it had been before.&nbsp; The very change of seasons
+must have been little marked to him, save by the motions, if he cared
+to watch them, of the stars above; for vegetation there was none to
+mark the difference between summer and winter.&nbsp; In spring of course
+the solitary date-palm here and there threw out its spathe of young
+green leaves, to add to the number of those which, grey or brown, hung
+drooping down the stem, withering but not decaying for many a year in
+that dry atmosphere; or perhaps the accacia bushes looked somewhat gayer
+for a few weeks, and the Retama broom, from which as well as from the
+palm leaves he plaited his baskets, threw out its yearly crop of twigs;
+but any greenness there might be in the vegetation of spring, turned
+grey in a few weeks beneath that burning sun; and be rest of the year
+was one perpetual summer of dust and glare and rest.&nbsp; Amid such
+scenes they had full time for thought.&nbsp; Nature and man alike left
+it in peace; while the labour required for sustaining life (and the
+monk wished for nothing more than to sustain mere life) was very light.&nbsp;
+Wherever water could be found, the hot sun and the fertile soil would
+repay by abundant crops, perhaps twice in the year, the toil of scratching
+the ground and putting in the seed.&nbsp; Moreover, the labour of the
+husbandman, so far from being adverse to the contemplative life, is
+of all occupations, it may be, that which promotes most quiet and wholesome
+meditation in the mind which cares to meditate.&nbsp; The life of the
+desert, when once the passions of youth were conquered, seems to have
+been not only a happy, but a healthy one.&nbsp; And when we remember
+that the monk, clothed from head to foot in woollen, and sheltered,
+too, by his sheepskin cape, escaped those violent changes of temperature
+which produce in the East so many fatal diseases, and which were so
+deadly to the linen-clothed inhabitants of the green lowlands of the
+Nile, we need not be surprised when we read of the vast longevity of
+many of the old abbots; and of their death, not by disease, but by gentle,
+and as it were wholesome natural decay.</p>
+<p>But if their life was easy, it was surely not ill-spent.&nbsp; If
+having few wants, and those soon supplied, they found too much time
+for the luxury of quiet thought, those need not blame them, who having
+many wants, and those also easily supplied, are wont to spend their
+superfluous leisure in any luxury save that of thought, above all save
+that of thought concerning God.&nbsp; For it was upon God that these
+men, whatever their defects or ignorances may have been, had set their
+minds.&nbsp; That man was sent into the world to know and to love, to
+obey and thereby to glorify, the Maker of his being, was the cardinal
+point of their creed, as it has been of every creed which ever exercised
+any beneficial influence on the minds of men.&nbsp; Dean Milman in his
+&ldquo;History of Christianity,&rdquo; vol. iii. page 294, has, while
+justly severe upon the failings and mistakes of the Eastern monks, pointed
+out with equal justice that the great desire of knowing God was the
+prime motive in the mind of all their best men:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In some regions of the East, the sultry and oppressive heat,
+the general relaxation of the physical system, dispose constitutions
+of a certain temperament to a dreamy inertness.&nbsp; The indolence
+and prostration of the body produce a kind of activity in the mind,
+if that may properly be called activity which is merely giving loose
+to the imagination and the emotions as they follow out the wild train
+of incoherent thought, or are agitated by impulses of spontaneous and
+ungoverned feeling.&nbsp; Ascetic Christianity ministered new aliment
+to this common propensity.&nbsp; It gave an object, both vague and determinate
+enough to stimulate, yet never to satisfy or exhaust.&nbsp; The regularity
+of stated hours of prayer, and of a kind of idle industry, weaving mats
+or plaiting baskets, alternated with periods of morbid reflection on
+the moral state of the soul, and of mystic communion with the Deity.&nbsp;
+It cannot indeed be wondered that this new revelation, as it were, of
+the Deity, this profound and rational certainty of his existence, this
+infelt consciousness of his perpetual presence, these as yet unknown
+impressions of his infinity, his power, and his love, should give a
+higher character to this eremitical enthusiasm, and attract men of loftier
+and more vigorous minds within its sphere.&nbsp; It was not merely the
+pusillanimous dread of encountering the trials of life which urged the
+humbler spirits to seek a safe retirement; or the natural love of peace,
+and the weariness and satiety of life, which commended this seclusion
+to those who were too gentle to mingle in, or who were exhausted with,
+the unprofitable turmoil of the world; nor was it always the anxiety
+to mortify the rebellious and refractory body with more advantage.&nbsp;
+The one absorbing idea of the Majesty of the Godhead almost seemed to
+swallow up all other considerations.&nbsp; The transcendent nature of
+the Triune Deity, the relation of the different persons of the Godhead
+to each other, seemed the only worthy object of men&rsquo;s contemplative
+faculties.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And surely the contemplation of the Godhead is no unworthy occupation
+for the immortal soul of any human being.&nbsp; But it would be unjust
+to these hermits did we fancy that their religion consisted merely even
+in this; much less that it consisted merely in dreams and visions, or
+in mere stated hours of prayer.&nbsp; That all did not fulfil the ideal
+of their profession is to be expected, and is frankly confessed by the
+writers of the Lives of the Fathers; that there were serious faults,
+even great crimes, among them is not denied.&nbsp; Those who wrote concerning
+them were so sure that they were on the whole good men, that they were
+not at all afraid of saying that some of them were bad,&mdash;not afraid,
+even, of recording, though only in dark hints, the reason why the Arab
+tribes around once rose and laid waste six churches with their monasteries
+in the neighbourhood of Scetis.&nbsp; St. Jerome in like manner does
+not hesitate to pour out bitter complaints against many of the monks
+in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem.&nbsp; It is notorious, too, that
+many became monks merely to escape slavery, hunger, or conscription
+into the army: Unruly and fanatical spirits, too, grew fond of wandering.&nbsp;
+Bands of monks on the great roads and public places of the empire, Massalians
+or Gyrovagi, as they were called, wandered from province to province,
+and cell to cell, living on the alms which they extorted from the pious,
+and making up too often for protracted fasts by outbursts of gluttony
+and drunkenness.&nbsp; And doubtless the average monk, even when well-conducted
+himself and in a well-conducted monastery, was, like average men of
+every creed, rank, or occupation, a very common-place person, acting
+from very mixed and often very questionable motives; and valuing his
+shaven crown and his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of prayer and
+his implicit obedience to his abbot, more highly than he valued the
+fear and the love of God.</p>
+<p>It is so in every creed.&nbsp; With some, even now, the strict observance
+of the Sabbath; with others, outward reverence at the Holy Communion;
+with others, the frequent hearing of sermons which suit heir own views;
+with others, continual reading of pious books (on the lessons of which
+they do not act), covers, instead of charity, a multitude of sins.&nbsp;
+But the saint, abbot, or father among these hermits was essentially
+the man who was not a common-place person; who was more than an ascetic,
+and more than a formalist; who could pierce beyond the letter to the
+spirit, and see, beyond all forms of doctrine or modes of life, that
+virtue was the one thing needful.</p>
+<p>The Historia Lausiaca and the Pratum Spirituale have many a story
+and many a saying as weighty, beautiful, and instructive now as they
+were fifteen hundred years ago; stories which show that graces and virtues
+such as the world had never seen before, save in the persecuted and
+half-unknown Christians of the first three centuries, were cultivated
+to noble fruitfulness by the monks of the East.&nbsp; For their humility,
+obedience, and reverence for their superiors it is not wise to praise
+them just now; for those are qualities which are not at present considered
+virtues, but rather (save by the soldier) somewhat abject vices; and
+indeed they often carried them, as they did their abstinence, to an
+extravagant pitch.&nbsp; But it must be remembered, in fairness, that
+if they obeyed their supposed superiors, they had first chosen their
+superiors themselves; that as the becoming a monk at all was an assertion
+of self-will and independence, whether for good or evil, so their reverence
+for their abbots was a voluntary loyalty to one who they fancied had
+a right to rule them, because he was wiser and better than they; a feeling
+which some have found not degrading, but ennobling; and the parent,
+not of servility, but of true freedom.&nbsp; And as for the obsolete
+virtue of humility, that still remains true which a voice said to Antony,
+when he saw the snares which were spread over the whole earth, and asked,
+sighing, &ldquo;Who can pass safely over these?&rdquo; and the voice
+answered, &ldquo;Humility alone.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For the rest, if the Sermon on the Mount mean anything, as a practical
+rule of life for Christian men, then these monks were surely justified
+in trying to obey it, for to obey it they surely tried.</p>
+<p>The Words of the Elders, to which I have already alluded, and the
+Lausiaca of Palladius likewise, are full of precious scraps of moral
+wisdom, sayings, and anecdotes, full of nobleness, purity, pathos, insight
+into character, and often instinct with a quiet humour, which seems
+to have been, in the Old world, peculiar to the Egyptians, as it is,
+in the New, almost peculiar to the old-fashioned God-fearing Scotsman.</p>
+<p>Take these examples, chosen almost at random.</p>
+<p>Serapion the Sindonite was so called because he wore nothing but
+a sindon, or linen shirt.&nbsp; Though he could not read, he could say
+all the Scriptures by heart.&nbsp; He could not (says Palladius) sit
+quiet in his cell, but wandered over the world in utter poverty, so
+that he &ldquo;attained to perfect impassibility, for with that nature
+he was born; for there are differences of natures, not of substances.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So says Palladius, and goes on to tell how Serapion sold himself
+to certain play-actors for twenty gold pieces, and laboured for them
+as a slave till he had won them to Christ, and made them renounce the
+theatre; after which he made his converts give the money to the poor,
+and went his way.</p>
+<p>On one of his journeys he came to Athens, and, having neither money
+nor goods, starved there for three days.&nbsp; But on the fourth he
+went up, seemingly to the Areopagus, and cried, &ldquo;Men of Athens,
+help!&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the crowd questioned him, he told them that
+he had, since he left Egypt, fallen into the hands of three usurers,
+two of whom he had satisfied, but the third would not leave him.</p>
+<p>On being promised assistance, he told them that his three usurers
+were avarice, sensuality, and hunger.&nbsp; Of the two first he was
+rid, having neither money nor passions: but, as he had eaten nothing
+for three days, the third was beginning to be troublesome, and demanded
+its usual debt, without paying which he could not well live; whereon
+certain philosophers, seemly amused by his apologue, gave him a gold
+coin.&nbsp; He went to a baker&rsquo;s shop, laid down the coin, took
+up a loaf, and went out of Athens for ever.&nbsp; Then the philosophers
+knew that he was endowed with true virtue; and when they had paid the
+baker the price of the loaf, got back their gold.</p>
+<p>When he went into Laced&aelig;mon, he heard that a great man there
+was a Manich&aelig;an, with all his family, though otherwise a good
+man.&nbsp; To him Serapion sold himself as a slave, and within two years
+converted him and his wife, who thenceforth treated him not as a slave,
+but as their own brother.</p>
+<p>After awhile, this &ldquo;Spiritual adamant,&rdquo; as Palladius
+calls him, bought his freedom of them, and sailed for Rome.&nbsp; At
+sundown first the sailors, and then the passengers, brought out each
+man his provisions, and ate.&nbsp; Serapion sat still.&nbsp; The crew
+fancied that he was sea-sick; but when he had passed a second, third,
+and fourth day fasting, they asked, &ldquo;Man, why do you not eat?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Because I have nothing to eat.&rdquo;&nbsp; They thought that
+some one had stolen his baggage: but when they found that the man had
+absolutely nothing, they began to ask him not only how he would keep
+alive, but how he would pay his fare.&nbsp; He only answered, &ldquo;That
+he had nothing; that they might cast him out of the ship where they
+had found him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But they answered, &ldquo;Not for a hundred gold pieces, so favourable
+was the wind,&rdquo; and fed him all the way to Rome, where we lose
+sight of him and his humour.</p>
+<p>To go on with almost chance quotations:&mdash;</p>
+<p>Some monks were eating at a festival, and one said to the serving
+man, &ldquo;I eat nothing cooked; tell them to bring me salt.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The serving man began to talk loudly: &ldquo;That brother eats no cooked
+meat; bring him a little salt.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth Abbot Theodore: &ldquo;It
+were more better for thee, brother, to eat meat in thy cell than to
+hear thyself talked about in the presence of thy brethren.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Again: a brother came to Abbot Silvanus, in Mount Sinai, and found
+the brethren working, and said, &ldquo;Why labour you for the meat which
+perisheth?&nbsp; Mary chose the good part.&rdquo;&nbsp; The abbot said,
+&ldquo;Give him a book to read, and put him in an empty cell.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+About the ninth hour the brother looked out, to see if he would be called
+to eat, and at last came to the abbot, and asked, &ldquo;Do not the
+brethren eat to-day, abbot?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Then
+why was not I called?&rdquo;&nbsp; Then quoth Abbot Silvanus: &ldquo;Thou
+art a spiritual man: and needest not their food.&nbsp; We are carnal,
+and must eat, because we work: but thou hast chosen the better part.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Whereat the monk was ashamed.</p>
+<p>As was also John the dwarf, who wanted to be &ldquo;without care
+like the angels, doing nothing but praise God.&rdquo;&nbsp; So he threw
+away his cloak, left his brother the abbot, and went into the desert.&nbsp;
+But after seven days he came back, and knocked at the door.&nbsp; &ldquo;Who
+is there?&rdquo; asked his brother.&nbsp; &ldquo;John.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Nay, John is turned into an angel, and is no more among men.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So he left him outside all night; and in the morning gave him to understand
+that if he was a man he must work, but that if he was an angel, he had
+no need to live in a cell.</p>
+<p>Consider again the saying of the great Antony, when some brethren
+were praising another in his presence.&nbsp; But Antony tried him, and
+found that he could not bear an injury.&nbsp; Then said the old man,
+&ldquo;Brother, thou art like a house with an ornamented porch, while
+the thieves break into it by the back door.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this, of Abbot Isidore, when the devil tempted him to despair,
+and told him that he would be lost after all: &ldquo;If I do go into
+torment, I shall still find you below me there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this, of Zeno the Syrian, when some Egyptian monks came to him
+and began accusing themselves: &ldquo;The Egyptians hide the virtues
+which they have, and confess vices which they have not.&nbsp; The Syrians
+and Greeks boast of virtues which they have not, and hide vices which
+they have.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Or this: One old man said to another, &ldquo;I am dead to this world.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Do not trust yourself,&rdquo; quoth the other, &ldquo;till you
+are out of this world.&nbsp; If you are dead, the devil is not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Two old men lived in the same cell, and had never disagreed.&nbsp;
+Said one to the other, &ldquo;Let us have just one quarrel, like other
+men.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the other: &ldquo;I do not know what a quarrel
+is like.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the first: &ldquo;Here&mdash;I will put
+a brick between us, and say that it is mine: and you shall say it is
+not mine; and over that let us have a contention and a squabble.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But when they put the brick between them, and one said, &ldquo;It is
+mine,&rdquo; the other said, &ldquo;I hope it is mine.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And when the first said, &ldquo;It is mine, it is not yours,&rdquo;
+he answered, &ldquo;If it is yours, take it.&rdquo;&nbsp; So they could
+not find out how to have a quarrel.</p>
+<p>Anger, malice, revenge, were accursed things in the eyes of these
+men.&nbsp; There was enough of them, and too much, among their monks;
+but far less, doubt not, than in the world outside.&nbsp; For within
+the monastery it was preached against, repressed, punished; and when
+repented of, forgiven, with loving warnings and wise rules against future
+transgression.</p>
+<p>Abbot Agathon used to say, &ldquo;I never went to sleep with a quarrel
+against any man; nor did I, as far as lay in me, let one who had a quarrel
+against me sleep till he had made peace.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Isaac was asked why the devils feared him so much.&nbsp; &ldquo;Since
+I was made a monk,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I settled with myself that
+no angry word should come out of my mouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>An old man said, &ldquo;Anger arises from these four things: from
+the lust of avarice, in giving and receiving; from loving one&rsquo;s
+own opinion; from wishing to be honoured; and from fancying oneself
+a teacher and hoping to be wiser than everybody.&nbsp; And anger obscures
+human reason by these four ways: if a man hate his neighbour; or if
+he envy him; or if he look on him as nought; or if he speak evil of
+him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius, told
+his story, and said, &ldquo;I wish to avenge myself, father.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The abbot begged him to leave vengeance to God: but when he refused,
+said, &ldquo;Then let us pray.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whereon the old man rose,
+and said, &ldquo;God, thou art not necessary to us any longer, that
+thou shouldest be careful of us: for we, as this brother says, both
+will and can avenge ourselves.&rdquo;&nbsp; At which that brother fell
+at his feet, and begged pardon, promising never to strive with his enemy.</p>
+<p>Abbot P&oelig;men said often, &ldquo;Let malice never overcome thee.&nbsp;
+If any man do thee harm, repay him with good, that thou mayest conquer
+evil with good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In a congregation at Scetis, when many men&rsquo;s lives and conversation
+had been talked over, Abbot Pior held his tongue.&nbsp; After it was
+over, he went out, and filled a sack with sand, and put it on his back.&nbsp;
+Then he took a little bag, filled it likewise with sand, and carried
+it before him.&nbsp; And when the brethren asked him what he meant,
+he said, &ldquo;The sack behind is my own sins, which are very many:
+yet I have cast them behind my back, and will not see them, nor weep
+over them.&nbsp; But I have put these few sins of my brother&rsquo;s
+before my eyes, and am tormenting myself over them, and condemning my
+brother.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother having committed a fault, went to Antony, and his brethren
+followed, upbraiding him, and wanting to bring him back; while he denied
+having done the wrong.&nbsp; Abbot Paphnutius was there, and spoke a
+parable to them:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw on the river bank a man sunk in the mud up to his knees.&nbsp;
+And men came to pull him out, and thrust him in up to the neck.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then said Antony of Paphnutius, &ldquo;Behold a man who can indeed
+save souls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Macarius was going up to the mountain of Nitria, and sent his
+disciple on before.&nbsp; The disciple met an idol-priest hurrying on,
+and carrying a great beam: to whom he cried, &ldquo;Where art thou running,
+devil?&rdquo;&nbsp; At which he was wroth, and beat him so that he left
+him half dead, and then ran on, and met Macarius, who said, &ldquo;Salvation
+to thee, labourer, salvation!&rdquo;&nbsp; He answered, wondering, &ldquo;What
+good hast thou seen in me that thou salutest me?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Because
+I saw thee working and running, though ignorantly.&rdquo;&nbsp; To whom
+the priest said, &ldquo;Touched by thy salutation, I knew thee to be
+a great servant of God; for another&mdash;I know not who&mdash;miserable
+monk met me and insulted me, and I gave him blows for his words.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then laying hold of Macarius&rsquo;s feet he said, &ldquo;Unless thou
+make me a monk I will not leave hold of thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After all, of the best of these men are told (with much honesty)
+many sayings which show that they felt in their minds and hearts that
+the spirit was above the letter: sayings which show that they had at
+least at times glimpses of a simpler and more possible virtue; foretastes
+of a perfection more human, and it may be more divine.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Better,&rdquo; said Abbot Hyperichius, &ldquo;to eat flesh
+and drink wine, than to eat our brethren&rsquo;s flesh with bitter words.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A brother asked an elder, &ldquo;Give me, father one thing which
+I may keep, and be saved thereby.&rdquo;&nbsp; The elder answered, &ldquo;If
+thou canst be injured and insulted, and hear and be silent, that is
+a great thing, and above all the other commandments.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One of the elders used to say, &ldquo;Whatever a man shrinks from
+let him not do to another.&nbsp; Dost thou shrink if any man detracts
+from thee?&nbsp; Speak not ill of another.&nbsp; Dost thou shrink if
+any man slanders thee, or if any man takes aught from thee?&nbsp; Do
+not that or the like to another man.&nbsp; For he that shall have kept
+this saying, will find it suffice for his salvation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The nearer,&rdquo; said Abbot Muthues, &ldquo;a man approaches
+God, the more he will see himself to be a sinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Abbot Sisois, when he lay dying, begged to live a little longer,
+that he might repent; and when they wondered, he told them that he had
+not yet even begun repentance.&nbsp; Whereby they saw that he was perfect
+in the fear of the Lord.</p>
+<p>But the most startling confession of all must have been that wrung
+from the famous Macarius the elder.&nbsp; He had been asked once by
+a brother, to tell him a rule by which he might be saved; and his answer
+had been this:&mdash;to fly from men, to sit in his cell, and to lament
+for his sins continually; and, what was above all virtues, to keep his
+tongue in order as well as his appetite.</p>
+<p>But (whether before or after that answer is not said) he gained a
+deeper insight into true virtue, on the day when (like Antony when he
+was reproved by the example of the tanner in Alexandria) he heard a
+voice telling him that he was inferior to two women who dwelt in the
+nearest town.&nbsp; Catching up his staff, like Antony, he went off
+to see the wonder.&nbsp; The women, when questioned by him as to their
+works, were astonished.&nbsp; They had been simply good wives for years
+past, married to two brothers, and living in the same house.&nbsp; But
+when pressed by him, they confessed that they had never said a foul
+word to each other, and never quarrelled.&nbsp; At one time they had
+agreed together to retire into a nunnery, but could not, for all their
+prayers, obtain the consent of their husbands.&nbsp; On which they had
+both made an oath, that they would never, to their deaths, speak one
+worldly word.</p>
+<p>Which when the blessed Macarius had heard, he said, &ldquo;In truth
+there is neither virgin, nor married woman, nor monk, nor secular; but
+God only requires the intention, and ministers the spirit of life to
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ARSENIUS</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>I shall give one more figure, and that a truly tragical one, from
+these &ldquo;Lives of the Egyptian Fathers,&rdquo; namely, that of the
+once great and famous Arsenius, the Father (as he was at one time called)
+of the Emperors.&nbsp; Theodosius, the great statesman and warrior,
+who for some twenty years kept up by his single hand the falling empire
+of Rome, heard how Arsenius was at once the most pious and the most
+learned of his subjects; and wishing&mdash;half barbarian as he was
+himself&mdash;that his sons should be brought up, not only as scholars,
+but as Christians, he sent for Arsenius to his court, and made him tutor
+to his two young sons Honorius and Arcadius.&nbsp; But the two lads
+had neither their father&rsquo;s strength nor their father&rsquo;s nobleness.&nbsp;
+Weak and profligate, they fretted Arsenius&rsquo;s soul day by day;
+and, at last, so goes the story, provoked him so far that, according
+to the fashion of a Roman pedagogue, he took the ferula and administered
+to one of the princes a caning, which he no doubt deserved.&nbsp; The
+young prince, in revenge, plotted against his life.&nbsp; Among the
+parasites of the Palace it was not difficult to find those who would
+use steel and poison readily enough in the service of an heir-apparent,
+and Arsenius fled for his life: and fled, as men were wont in those
+days, to Egypt and the Thebaid.&nbsp; Forty years old he was when he
+left the court, and forty years more he spent among the cells at Scetis,
+weeping day and night.&nbsp; He migrated afterwards to a place called
+Troe, and there died at the age of ninety-five, having wept himself,
+say his admirers, almost blind.&nbsp; He avoided, as far as possible,
+beholding the face of man; upon the face of woman he would never look.&nbsp;
+A noble lady, whom he had known probably in the world, came all the
+way from Rome to see him; but he refused himself to her sternly, almost
+roughly.&nbsp; He had known too much of the fine ladies of the Roman
+court; all he cared for was peace.&nbsp; There is a story of him that,
+changing once his dwelling-place, probably from Scetis to Troe, he asked,
+somewhat peevishly, of the monks around him, &ldquo;What that noise
+was?&rdquo;&nbsp; They told him it was only the wind among the reeds.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Alas!&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have fled everywhere in search
+of silence, and yet here the very reeds speak.&rdquo;&nbsp; The simple
+and comparatively unlearned monks around him looked with a profound
+respect on the philosopher, courtier, scholar, who had cast away the
+real pomps and vanities of this life, such as they had never known.&nbsp;
+There is a story told, plainly concerning Arsenius, though his name
+is not actually mentioned in it, how a certain old monk saw him lying
+upon a softer mat than his fellows, and indulged with a few more comforts;
+and complained indignantly of his luxury, and the abbot&rsquo;s favouritism.&nbsp;
+Then asked the abbot, &ldquo;What didst thou eat before thou becamest
+a monk?&rdquo; He confessed he had been glad enough to fill his stomach
+with a few beans.&nbsp; &ldquo;How wert thou dressed?&rdquo;&nbsp; He
+was glad enough, again he confessed, to have any clothes at all on his
+back.&nbsp; &ldquo;Where didst thou sleep?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Often
+enough on the bare ground in the open air,&rdquo; was the answer.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Then,&rdquo; said the abbot, &ldquo;thou art, by thy own confession,
+better off as a monk than thou wast as a poor labouring man: and yet
+thou grudgest a little comfort to one who has given up more luxury than
+thou hast ever beheld.&nbsp; This man slept beneath silken canopies;
+he was carried in gilded litters, by trains of slaves; he was clothed
+in purple and fine linen; he fed upon all the delicacies of the great
+city: and he has given up all for Christ.&nbsp; And what hast thou given
+up, that thou shouldst grudge him a softer mat, or a little more food
+each day?&rdquo;&nbsp; And so the monk was abashed, and held his peace.</p>
+<p>As for Arsenius&rsquo;s tears, it is easy to call his grief exaggerated
+or superstitious: but those who look on them with human eyes will pardon
+them, and watch with sacred pity the grief of a good man, who felt that
+his life had been an utter failure.&nbsp; He saw his two pupils, between
+whom, at their father&rsquo;s death, the Roman Empire was divided into
+Eastern and Western, grow more and more incapable of governing.&nbsp;
+He saw a young barbarian, whom he must have often met at the court in
+Byzantium, as Master of the Horse, come down from his native forests,
+and sack the Eternal City of Rome.&nbsp; He saw evil and woe unspeakable
+fall on that world which he had left behind him, till the earth was
+filled with blood, and Antichrist seemed ready to appear, and the day
+of judgment to be at hand.&nbsp; And he had been called to do what he
+could to stave off this ruin, to make those young princes decree justice
+and rule in judgment by the fear of God.&nbsp; But he had failed; and
+there was nothing left to him save self-accusation and regret, and dread
+lest some, at least, of the blood which had been shed might be required
+at his hands.&nbsp; Therefore, sitting upon his palm-mat there in Troe,
+he wept his life away; happier, nevertheless, and more honourable in
+the sight of God and man than if, like a Mazarin or a Talleyrand, and
+many another crafty politician, both in Church and State, he had hardened
+his heart against his own mistakes, and, by crafty intrigue and adroit
+changing of sides at the right moment, had contrived to secure for himself,
+out of the general ruin, honour and power and wealth, and delicate food,
+and a luxurious home, and so been one of those of whom the Psalmist
+says, with awful irony, &ldquo;So long as thou doest well unto thyself,
+men will speak good of thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One good deed at least Arsenius had seen done&mdash;a deed which
+has lasted to all time, and done, too, to the eternal honour of his
+order, by a monk&mdash;namely, the abolition of gladiator shows.&nbsp;
+For centuries these wholesale murders had lasted through the Roman Republic
+and through the Roman Empire.&nbsp; Human beings in the prime of youth
+and health, captives or slaves, condemned malefactors, and even free-born
+men, who hired themselves out to death, had been trained to destroy
+each other in the amphitheatre for the amusement, not merely of the
+Roman mob, but of the Roman ladies.&nbsp; Thousands sometimes, in a
+single day, had been</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Butchered to make a Roman holiday.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The training of gladiators had become a science.&nbsp; By their weapons
+and their armour, and their modes of fighting, they had been distinguished
+into regular classes, of which the antiquaries count up full eighteen:
+Andabat&aelig;, who wore helmets without any opening for the eyes, so
+that they were obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited the mirth
+of the spectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armour;
+Mirmillones, who had the image of a fish upon their helmets, and fought
+in armour with a short sword, matched usually against the Retiarii,
+who fought without armour, and whose weapons were a casting-net and
+a trident.&nbsp; These, and other species of fighters, were drilled
+and fed in &ldquo;families&rdquo; by Lanist&aelig;; or regular trainers,
+who let them out to persons wishing to exhibit a show.&nbsp; Women,
+even high-born ladies, had been seized in former times with the madness
+of fighting, and, as shameless as cruel, had gone down into the arena
+to delight with their own wounds and their own gore the eyes of the
+Roman people.</p>
+<p>And these things were done, and done too often, under the auspices
+of the gods, and at their most sacred festivals.&nbsp; So deliberate
+and organized a system of wholesale butchery has never perhaps existed
+on this earth before or since, not even in the worship of those Mexican
+gods whose idols Cortez and his soldiers found fed with human hearts,
+and the walls of their temples crusted with human gore.&nbsp; Gradually
+the spirit of the Gospel had been triumphing over this abomination.&nbsp;
+Ever since the time of Tertullian, in the second century, Christian
+preachers and writers had lifted up their voice in the name of humanity.&nbsp;
+Towards the end of the third century, the Emperors themselves had so
+far yielded to the voice of reason, as to forbid by edicts the gladiatorial
+fights.&nbsp; But the public opinion of the mob in most of the great
+cities had been too strong both for saints and for emperors.&nbsp; St.
+Augustine himself tells us of the horrible joy which he, in his youth,
+had seen come over the vast ring of flushed faces at these horrid sights;
+and in Arsenius&rsquo;s own time, his miserable pupil, the weak Honorius,
+bethought himself of celebrating once more the heathen festival of the
+Secular Games, and formally to allow therein an exhibition of gladiators.&nbsp;
+But in the midst of that show sprang down into the arena of the Colosseum
+of Rome an unknown monk, some said from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and
+with his own hands parted the combatants in the name of Christ and God.&nbsp;
+The mob, baulked for a moment of their pleasure, sprang on him, and
+stoned him to death.&nbsp; But the crime was followed by a sudden revulsion
+of feeling.&nbsp; By an edict of the Emperor the gladiatorial sports
+were forbidden for ever; and the Colosseum, thenceforth useless, crumbled
+slowly away into that vast ruin which remains unto this day, purified,
+as men well said, from the blood of tens of thousands, by the blood
+of one true and noble martyr.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>THE HERMITS OF ASIA</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The impulse which, given by Antony, had been propagated in Asia by
+his great pupil, Hilarion, spread rapidly far and wide.&nbsp; Hermits
+took possession of the highest peaks of Sinai; and driven from thence,
+so tradition tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which still haunt
+its cliffs, settled at that sheltered spot where now stands the convent
+of St. Catharine.&nbsp; Massacred again and again by the wild Arab tribes,
+their places were filled up by fresh hermits, and their spiritual descendants
+hold the convent to this day.</p>
+<p>Through the rich and luxuriant region of Syria, and especially round
+the richest and most luxurious of its cities, Antioch, hermits settled,
+and bore, by the severity of their lives, a noble witness against the
+profligacy of its inhabitants, who had half renounced the paganism of
+their forefathers without renouncing in the least, it seems, those sins
+which drew down of old the vengeance of a righteous God upon their forefathers,
+whether in Canaan or in Syria itself.</p>
+<p>At Antioch, about the year 347, was born the famous Chrysostom, John
+of the Golden Mouth; and near Antioch he became a hermit, and dwelt,
+so legends say, several years alone in the wilderness: till, nerved
+by that hard training, he went forth again into the world to become,
+whether at Antioch or at Constantinople, the bravest as well as the
+most eloquent preacher of righteousness and rebuker of sin which the
+world had seen since the times of St. Paul.&nbsp; The labours of Chrysostom
+belong not so much to this book as to a general ecclesiastical history:
+but it must not be forgotten that he, like all the great men of that
+age, had been a monk, and kept up his monastic severity, even in the
+midst of the world, until his dying day.</p>
+<p>At Nisibis, again, upon the very frontier of Persia, appeared another
+very remarkable personage, known as the Great Jacob or Great St. James.&nbsp;
+Taking (says his admiring biographer, Theodoret of Cyra) to the peaks
+of the loftiest mountains., he passed his life on them, in spring and
+summer haunting the woods, with the sky for a roof, but sheltering himself
+in winter in a cave.&nbsp; His food was wild fruits and mountain herbs.&nbsp;
+He never used a fire, and, clothed in a goats&rsquo; hair garment, was
+perhaps the first of those Boscoi, or &ldquo;browsing hermits,&rdquo;
+who lived literally like the wild animals in the flesh, while they tried
+to live like angels in the spirit.</p>
+<p>Some of the stories told of Jacob savour of that vindictiveness which
+Giraldus Cambrensis, in after years, attributed to the saints in Ireland.&nbsp;
+He was walking one day over the Persian frontier, &ldquo;to visit the
+plants of true religion&rdquo; and &ldquo;bestow on them due care,&rdquo;
+when he passed at a fountain a troop of damsels washing clothes and
+treading them with their feet.&nbsp; They seem, according to the story,
+to have stared at the wild man, instead of veiling their faces or letting
+down their garments.&nbsp; No act or word of rudeness is reported of
+them: but Jacob&rsquo;s modesty or pride was so much scandalized that
+he cursed both the fountain and the girls.&nbsp; The fountain of course
+dried up forthwith, and the damsels&rsquo; hair turned grey.&nbsp; They
+ran weeping into the town.&nbsp; The townsfolk came out, and compelled
+Jacob, by their prayers, to restore the water to their fountain; but
+the grey hair he refused to restore to its original hue unless the damsels
+would come and beg pardon publicly themselves.&nbsp; The poor girls
+were ashamed to come, and their hair remained grey ever after.</p>
+<p>A story like this may raise a smile in some of my readers, in others
+something like indignation or contempt.&nbsp; But as long as such legends
+remain in these hermit lives, told with as much gravity as any other
+portion of the biography, and eloquently lauded, as this deed is, by
+Bishop Theodoret, as proofs of the holiness and humanity of the saint,
+an honest author is bound to notice some of them at least, and not to
+give an alluring and really dishonest account of these men and their
+times, by detailing every anecdote which can elevate them in the mind
+of the reader, while he carefully omits all that may justly disgust
+him.</p>
+<p>Yet, after all, we are not bound to believe this legend, any more
+than we are bound to believe that when Jacob saw a Persian judge give
+an unjust sentence, he forthwith cursed, not him, but a rock close by,
+which instantly crumbled into innumerable fragments, so terrifying that
+judge that he at once revoked his sentence, and gave a just decision.</p>
+<p>Neither, again, need we believe that it was by sending, as men said
+in his own days, swarms of mosquitos against the Persian invaders, that
+he put to flight their elephants and horses: and yet it may be true
+that, in the famous siege of Nisibis, Jacob played the patriot and the
+valiant man.&nbsp; For when Sapor, the Persian king, came against Nisibis
+with all his forces, with troops of elephants, and huge machines of
+war, and towers full of archers wheeled up to the walls, and at last,
+damming the river itself, turned its current against the fortifications
+of unburnt brick, until a vast breach was opened in the walls, then
+Jacob, standing in the breach, encouraged by his prayers his fellow-townsmen
+to stop it with stone, brick, timber, and whatsoever came to hand; and
+Sapor, the Persian Sultan, saw &ldquo;that divine man,&rdquo; and his
+goats&rsquo;-hair tunic and cloak seemed transformed into a purple robe
+and royal diadem.&nbsp; And, whether he was seized with superstitious
+fear, or whether the hot sun or the marshy ground had infected his troops
+with disease, or whether the mosquito swarms actually became intolerable,
+the great King of Persia turned and went away.</p>
+<p>So Nisibis was saved for a while; to be shamefully surrendered to
+the Persians a few years afterwards by the weak young Emperor Jovian.&nbsp;
+Old Ammianus Marcellinus, brave soldier as he was, saw with disgust
+the whole body of citizens ordered to quit the city within three days,
+and &ldquo;men appointed to compel obedience to the order, with threats
+of death to every one who delayed his departure; and the whole city
+was a scene of mourning and lamentation, and in every quarter nothing
+was heard but one universal wail, matrons tearing their hair, and about
+to be driven from the homes in which they had been born and brought
+up; the mother who had lost her children, or the wife who had lost her
+husband, about to be torn from the place rendered sacred by their shades,
+clinging to their doorposts, embracing their thresholds, and pouring
+forth floods of tears.&nbsp; Every road was crowded, each person struggling
+away as he could.&nbsp; Many, too, loaded themselves with as much of
+their property as they thought they could carry, while leaving behind
+them abundant and costly furniture, which they could not remove for
+want of beasts of burden.&rdquo; <a name="citation159"></a><a href="#footnote159">{159}</a></p>
+<p>One treasure, however, they did remove, of which the old soldier
+Ammianus says nothing, and which, had he seen it pass him on the road,
+he would have treated with supreme contempt.&nbsp; And that, says Theodoret,
+was the holy body of &ldquo;their prince and defender,&rdquo; St. James
+the mountain hermit, round which the emigrants chanted, says Theodoret,
+hymns of regret and praise, &ldquo;for, had he been alive, that city
+would have never passed into barbarian hands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>There stood with Jacob in the breach, during that siege of Nisibis,
+a man of gentler temperament, a disciple of his, who had received baptism
+at his hands, and who was, like himself, a hermit&mdash;Ephraim, or
+Ephrem, of Edessa, as he is commonly called, for, though born at Nisibis,
+his usual home was at Edessa, the metropolis of a Syrian-speaking race.&nbsp;
+Into the Syrian tongue Ephrem translated the doctrines of the Christian
+faith and the Gospel history, and spread abroad, among the heathen round,
+a number of delicate and graceful hymns, which remain to this day, and
+of which some have lately been translated into English. <a name="citation160"></a><a href="#footnote160">{160}</a>&nbsp;
+Soft, sad, and dreamy as they were, they had strength and beauty enough
+in them to supersede the Gnostic hymns of Bardesanes and his son Harmonius,
+which had been long popular among the Syrians; and for centuries afterwards,
+till Christianity was swept away by the followers of Mahomet, the Syrian
+husbandman beguiled his toil with the pious and plaintive melodies of
+St. Ephrem.</p>
+<p>But Ephrem was not only a hermit and a poet: he was a preacher and
+a missionary.&nbsp; If he wept, as it was said, day and night for his
+own sins and the sins of mankind, he did his best at least to cure those
+sins.&nbsp; He was a demagogue, or leader of the people, for good and
+not for evil, to whom the simple Syrians looked up for many a year as
+their spiritual father.&nbsp; He died in peace, as he said himself,
+like the labourer who has finished his day&rsquo;s work, like the wandering
+merchant who returns to his fatherland, leaving nothing behind him save
+prayers and counsels, for &ldquo;Ephrem,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;had
+neither wallet nor pilgrim&rsquo;s staff.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;His last utterance&rdquo; (I owe this fact to M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+book, &ldquo;Moines d&rsquo;Occident&rdquo;) &ldquo;was a protest on
+behalf of the dignity of man redeemed by the Son of God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The young and pious daughter of the Governor of Edessa came
+weeping to receive his latest breath.&nbsp; He made her swear never
+again to be carried in a litter by slaves, &lsquo;The neck of man,&rsquo;
+he said, &lsquo;should bear no yoke save that of Christ.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp;
+This anecdote is one among many which go to prove that from the time
+that St. Paul had declared the great truth that in Christ Jesus was
+neither bond nor free, and had proclaimed the spiritual brotherhood
+of all men in Christ, slavery, as an institution, was doomed to slow
+but certain death.&nbsp; But that death was accelerated by the monastic
+movement, wherever it took root.&nbsp; A class of men who came not to
+be ministered unto, but to minister to others; who prided themselves
+upon needing fewer luxuries than the meanest slaves; who took rank among
+each other and among men not on the ground of race, nor of official
+position, nor of wealth, nor even of intellect, but simply on the ground
+of virtue, was a perpetual protest against slavery and tyranny of every
+kind; a perpetual witness to the world that, whether all men were equal
+or not in the sight of God, the only rank among them of which God would
+take note, would be their rank in goodness.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>BASIL</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>On the south shore of the Black Sea, eastward of Sinope, there dwelt
+in those days, at the mouth of the River Iris, a hermit as gentle and
+as pure as Ephrem of Edessa.&nbsp; Beside a roaring waterfall, amid
+deep glens and dark forests, with distant glimpses of the stormy sea
+beyond, there lived on bread and water a graceful gentleman, young and
+handsome; a scholar too, who had drunk deeply at the fountains of Pagan
+philosophy and poetry, and had been educated with care at Constantinople
+and at Athens, as well as at his native city of C&aelig;sar&aelig;a,
+in the heart of Asia Minor, now dwindled under Turkish misrule into
+a wretched village.&nbsp; He was heir to great estates; the glens and
+forests round him were his own: and that was the use which he made of
+them.&nbsp; On the other side of the torrent, his mother and his sister,
+a maiden of wonderful beauty, lived the hermit life, on a footing of
+perfect equality with their female slaves, and the pious women who had
+joined them.</p>
+<p>Basil&rsquo;s austerities&mdash;or rather the severe climate of the
+Black Sea forests&mdash;brought him to an early grave.&nbsp; But his
+short life was spent well enough.&nbsp; He was a poet, with an eye for
+the beauty of Nature&mdash;especially for the beauty of the sea&mdash;most
+rare in those times; and his works are full of descriptions of scenery
+as healthy-minded as they are vivid and graceful.</p>
+<p>In his travels through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, he had seen the
+hermits, and longed to emulate them; but (to do him justice) his ideal
+of the so-called &ldquo;religious life&rdquo; was more practical than
+those of the solitaries of Egypt, who had been his teachers.&nbsp; &ldquo;It
+was the life&rdquo; (says Dean Milman <a name="citation163"></a><a href="#footnote163">{163}</a>)
+&ldquo;of the industrious religious community, not of the indolent and
+solitary anchorite, which to Basil was the perfection of Christianity.
+. . .&nbsp; The indiscriminate charity of these institutions was to
+receive orphans&rdquo; (of which there were but too many in those evil
+days) &ldquo;of all classes, for education and maintenance: but other
+children only with the consent or at the request of parents, certified
+before witnesses; and vows were by no means to be enforced upon these
+youthful pupils.&nbsp; Slaves who fled to the monasteries were to be
+admonished and sent back to their owners.&nbsp; There is one reservation&rdquo;
+(and that one only too necessary then), &ldquo;that slaves were not
+bound to obey their master, if he should order what is contrary to the
+law of God.&nbsp; Industry was to be the animating principle of these
+settlements.&nbsp; Prayer and psalmody were to have their stated hours,
+but by no means to intrude on those devoted to useful labour.&nbsp;
+These labours were strictly defined; such as were of real use to the
+community, not those which might contribute to vice or luxury.&nbsp;
+Agriculture was especially recommended.&nbsp; The life was in no respect
+to be absorbed in a perpetual mystic communion with the Deity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The ideal which Basil set before him was never fulfilled in the East.&nbsp;
+Transported to the West by St. Benedict, &ldquo;the father of all monks,&rdquo;
+it became that conventual system which did so much during the early
+middle age, not only for the conversion and civilization, but for the
+arts and the agriculture of Europe.</p>
+<p>Basil, like his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianzen, had to go forth
+from his hermitage into the world, and be a bishop, and fight the battles
+of the true faith.&nbsp; But, as with Gregory, his hermit-training had
+strengthened his soul, while it weakened his body.&nbsp; The Emperor
+Valens, supporting the Arians against the orthodox, sent to Basil his
+Prefect of the Pr&aelig;torium, an officer of the highest rank.&nbsp;
+The prefect argued, threatened; Basil was firm.&nbsp; &ldquo;I never
+met,&rdquo; said he at last, &ldquo;such boldness.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Because,&rdquo;
+said Basil, &ldquo;you never met a bishop.&rdquo;&nbsp; The prefect
+returned to his Emperor.&nbsp; &ldquo;My lord, we are conquered; this
+bishop is above threats.&nbsp; We can do nothing but by force.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+The Emperor shrank from that crime, and Basil and the orthodoxy of his
+diocese were saved.&nbsp; The rest of his life and of Gregory&rsquo;s
+belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to general history, and we need pursue
+it no further here.</p>
+<p>I said that Basil&rsquo;s idea of what monks should be was never
+carried out in the East, and it cannot be denied that, as the years
+went on, the hermit life took a form less and less practical, and more
+and more repulsive also.&nbsp; Such men as Antony, Hilarion, Basil,
+had valued the ascetic training, not so much because it had, as they
+thought, a merit in itself, but because it enabled the spirit to rise
+above the flesh; because it gave them strength to conquer their passions
+and appetites, and leave their soul free to think and act.</p>
+<p>But their disciples, especially in Syria, seem to have attributed
+more and more merit to the mere act of inflicting want and suffering
+on themselves.&nbsp; Their souls were darkened, besides, more and more,
+by a doctrine unknown to the Bible, unknown to the early Christians,
+and one which does not seem to have had any strong hold of the mind
+of Antony himself&mdash;namely, that sins committed after baptism could
+only be washed away by tears, and expiated by penance; that for them
+the merits of him who died for the sins of the whole world were of little
+or of no avail.</p>
+<p>Therefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set their
+whole minds to punish themselves on earth, always tortured by the dread
+that they were not punishing themselves enough, till they crushed down
+alike body, mind, and soul into an abject superstition, the details
+of which are too repulsive to be written here.&nbsp; Some of the instances
+of this self-invented misery which are recorded, even as early as the
+time of Theodoret, bishop of Cyra, in the middle of the fifth century,
+make us wonder at the puzzling inconsistencies of the human mind.&nbsp;
+Did these poor creatures really believe that God could be propitiated
+by the torture of his own creatures?&nbsp; What sense could Theodoret
+(who was a good man himself) have put upon the words, &ldquo;God is
+good,&rdquo; or &ldquo;God is love,&rdquo; while he was looking with
+satisfaction, even with admiration and awe, on practices which were
+more fit for worshippers of Moloch?</p>
+<p>Those who think these words too strong, may judge for themselves
+how far they apply to his story of Marana and Cyra.</p>
+<p>Marana, then, and Cyra were two young ladies of Berh&oelig;a, who
+had given up all the pleasures of life to settle themselves in a roofless
+cottage outside the town.&nbsp; They had stopped up the door with stones
+and clay, and allowed it only to be opened at the feast of Pentecost.&nbsp;
+Around them lived certain female slaves who had voluntarily chosen the
+same life, and who were taught and exhorted through a little window
+by their mistresses; or rather, it would seem, by Marana alone: for
+Cyra (who was bent double by her &ldquo;training&rdquo;) was never to
+speak.&nbsp; Theodoret, as a priest, was allowed to enter the sacred
+enclosure, and found them shrouded from head to foot in long veils,
+so that neither their faces or hands could be seen; and underneath their
+veils, burdened on every limb, poor wretches, with such a load of iron
+chains and rings that a strong man, he says, could not have stood under
+the weight.&nbsp; Thus had they endured for two-and-forty years, exposed
+to sun and wind, to frost and rain, taking no food at times for many
+days together.&nbsp; I have no mind to finish the picture, and still
+less to record any of the phrases of rapturous admiration with which
+Bishop Theodoret comments upon their pitiable superstition.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>SIMEON STYLITES</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Of all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable, perhaps,
+was the once famous Simeon Stylites&mdash;a name almost forgotten, save
+by antiquaries and ecclesiastics, till Mr. Tennyson made it once more
+notorious in a poem as admirable for its savage grandness, as for its
+deep knowledge of human nature.&nbsp; He has comprehended thoroughly,
+as it seems to me, that struggle between self-abasement and self-conceit,
+between the exaggerated sense of sinfulness and the exaggerated ambition
+of saintly honour, which must have gone on in the minds of these ascetics&mdash;the
+temper which could cry out one moment with perfect honesty&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Although I be the basest of mankind,<br />From scalp to sole
+one slough and crust of sin;&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>at the next&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;I will not cease to grasp the hope I hold<br />Of saintdom;
+and to clamour, mourn, and sob,<br />Battering the gates of heaven with
+storms of prayer.<br />Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin.<br />Let
+this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,<br />This not be all in vain,
+that thrice ten years<br />Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,<br />*
+* * * * *<br />A sign between the meadow and the cloud,<br />Patient
+on this tall pillar I have borne<br />Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail,
+damp, and sleet, and snow;<br />And I had hoped that ere this period
+closed<br />Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest,<br />Denying
+not these weather-beaten limbs<br />The meed of saints, the white robe
+and the palm.<br />O take the meaning, Lord: I do not breathe,<br />Not
+whisper any murmur of complaint.<br />Pain heaped ten hundred-fold to
+this, were still<br />Less burthen, by ten-hundred-fold, to bear<br />Than
+were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush&rsquo;d<br />My spirit
+flat before thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Admirably also has Mr. Tennyson conceived the hermit&rsquo;s secret
+doubt of the truth of those miracles, which he is so often told that
+he has worked, that he at last begins to believe that he must have worked
+them; and the longing, at the same time, to justify himself to himself,
+by persuading himself that he has earned miraculous powers.&nbsp; On
+this whole question of hermit miracles I shall speak at length hereafter.&nbsp;
+I have given specimens enough of them already, and shall give as few
+as possible henceforth.&nbsp; There is a sameness about them which may
+become wearisome to those who cannot be expected to believe them.&nbsp;
+But what the hermits themselves thought of them, is told (at least,
+so I suspect) only too truly by Mr. Tennyson&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;O Lord, thou knowest what a man I am;<br />A
+sinful man, conceived and born in sin:<br />&rsquo;Tis their own doing;
+this is none of mine;<br />Lay it not to me.&nbsp; Am I to blame for
+this,<br />That here come those who worship me?&nbsp; Ha! ha!<br />The
+silly people take me for a saint,<br />And bring me offerings of fruit
+and flowers:<br />And I, in truth (thou wilt bear witness here),<br />Have
+all in all endured as much, and more<br />Than many just and holy men,
+whose names<br />Are register&rsquo;d and calendar&rsquo;d for saints.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Good
+people, you do ill to kneel to me.<br />What is it I can have done to
+merit this?<br />It may be I have wrought some miracles,<br />And cured
+some halt and maimed: but what of that?<br />It may be, no one, even
+among the saints,<br />Can match his pains with mine: but what of that?<br />Yet
+do not rise; for you may look on me,<br />And in your looking you may
+kneel to God.<br />Speak, is there any of you halt and maimed?<br />I
+think you know I have some power with heaven<br />From my long penance;
+let him speak his wish.<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Yes, I can heal him.&nbsp;
+Power goes forth from me.<br />They say that they are heal&rsquo;d.&nbsp;
+Ah, hark! they shout,<br />&lsquo;St. Simeon Stylites!&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Why, if so,<br />God reaps a harvest in me.&nbsp; O my soul,<br />God
+reaps a harvest in thee.&nbsp; If this be,<br />Can I work miracles,
+and not be saved?<br />This is not told of any.&nbsp; They were saints.<br />It
+cannot be but that I shall be saved;<br />Yea, crowned a saint.&rdquo;
+. . .</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>I shall not take the liberty of quoting more: but shall advise all
+who read these pages to study seriously Mr. Tennyson&rsquo;s poem if
+they wish to understand that darker side of the hermit life which became
+at last, in the East, the only side of it.&nbsp; For in the East the
+hermits seem to have degenerated, by the time of the Mahomedan conquest,
+into mere self-torturing fakeers, like those who may be seen to this
+day in Hindostan.&nbsp; The salt lost its savour, and in due tune it
+was trampled under foot; and the armies of the Moslem swept out of the
+East a superstition which had ended by enervating instead of ennobling
+humanity.</p>
+<p>But in justice, not only to myself, but to Mr. Tennyson (whose details
+of Simeon&rsquo;s asceticism may seem to some exaggerated and impossible),
+I have thought fit to give his life at length, omitting only many of
+his miracles, and certain stories of his penances, which can only excite
+horror and disgust, without edifying the reader.</p>
+<p>There were, then, three hermits of this name, often confounded; and
+all alike famous (as were Julian, Daniel, and other Stylites) for standing
+for many years on pillars.&nbsp; One of the Simeons is said by Moschus
+to have been struck by lightning, and his death to have been miraculously
+revealed to Julian the Stylite, who lived twenty-four miles off.&nbsp;
+More than one Stylite, belonging to the Monophysite heresy of Severus
+Acephalus, was to be found, according to Moschus, in the East at the
+beginning of the seventh century.&nbsp; This biography is that of the
+elder Simeon, who died (according to Cedrenus) about 460, after passing
+some forty or fifty years upon pillars of different heights.&nbsp; There
+is much discrepancy in the accounts, both of his date and of his age;
+but that such a person really existed, and had his imitators, there
+can be no doubt.&nbsp; He is honoured as a saint alike by the Latin
+and by the Greek Churches.</p>
+<p>His life has been written by a disciple of his named Antony, who
+professes to have been with him when he died; and also by Theodoret,
+who knew him well in life.&nbsp; Both are to be found in Rosweyde, and
+there seems no reason to doubt their authenticity.&nbsp; I have therefore
+interwoven them both, marking the paragraphs taken from each.</p>
+<p>Theodoret, who says that he was born in the village of Gesa, between
+Antioch and Cilicia, calls him that &ldquo;famous Simeon&mdash;that
+great miracle of the whole world, whom all who obey the Roman rule know;
+whom the Persians also know, and the Indians, and &AElig;thiopians;
+nay, his fame has even spread to the wandering Scythians, and taught
+them his love of toil and love of wisdom;&rdquo; and says that he might
+be compared with Jacob the patriarch, Joseph the temperate, Moses the
+legislator, David the king and prophet, Micaiah the prophet, and the
+divine men who were like them.&nbsp; He tells how Simeon, as a boy,
+kept his father&rsquo;s sheep, and, being forced by heavy snow to leave
+them in the fold, went with his parents to the church, and there heard
+the Gospel which blesses those who mourn and weep, and calls those miserable
+who laugh, and those enviable who have a pure heart.&nbsp; And when
+he asked a bystander what he would gain who did each of these things,
+the man propounded to him the solitary life, and pointed out to him
+the highest philosophy.</p>
+<p>This, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint&rsquo;s own tongue.&nbsp;
+His disciple Antony gives the story of his conversion somewhat differently.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>St. Simeon (says Antony) was chosen by God from his birth, and used
+to study how to obey and please him.&nbsp; Now his father&rsquo;s name
+was Susocion, and he was brought up by his parents.</p>
+<p>When he was thirteen years old, he was feeding his father&rsquo;s
+sheep; and seeing a church he left the sheep and went in, and heard
+an epistle being read.&nbsp; And when he asked an elder, &ldquo;Master,
+what is that which is read?&rdquo; the old man replied, &ldquo;For the
+substance (or very being) of the soul, that a man may learn to fear
+God with his whole heart, and his whole mind.&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the
+blessed Simeon, &ldquo;What is to fear God?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth the elder,
+&ldquo;Wherefore troublest thou me, my son?&rdquo;&nbsp; Quoth he, &ldquo;I
+inquire of thee, as of God.&nbsp; For I wish to learn what I hear from
+thee, because I am ignorant and a fool.&rdquo;&nbsp; The elder answered,
+&ldquo;If any man shall have fasted continually, and offered prayers
+every moment, and shall have humbled himself to every man, and shall
+not have loved gold, nor parents, nor garments, nor possessions, and
+if he honours his father and mother, and follows the priests of God,
+he shall inherit the eternal kingdom: but he who, on the contrary, does
+not keep those things, he shall inherit the outer darkness which God
+hath prepared for the devil and his angels.&nbsp; All these things,
+my son, are heaped together in a monastery.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Hearing this, the blessed Simeon fell at his feet, saying, &ldquo;Thou
+art my father and my mother, and my teacher of good works, and guide
+to the kingdom of heaven.&nbsp; For thou hast gained my soul, which
+was already being sunk in perdition.&nbsp; May the Lord repay thee again
+for it.&nbsp; For these are the things which edify.&nbsp; I will now
+go into a monastery, where God shall choose; and let his will be done
+on me.&rdquo;&nbsp; The elder said, &ldquo;My son, before thou enterest,
+hear me.&nbsp; Thou shalt have tribulation; for thou must watch and
+serve in nakedness, and sustain ills without ceasing; and again thou
+shalt be comforted, thou vessel precious to God.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And forthwith the blessed Simeon, going out of the church, went to
+the monastery of the holy Timotheus, a wonder-working man; and falling
+down before the gate of the monastery, he lay five days, neither eating
+nor drinking.&nbsp; And on the fifth day, the abbot, coming out, asked
+him, &ldquo;Whence art thou, my son?&nbsp; And what parents hast thou,
+that thou art so afflicted?&nbsp; Or what is thy name, lest perchance
+thou hast done some wrong?&nbsp; Or perchance thou art a slave, and
+fleest from thy master?&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the blessed Simeon said with
+tears, &ldquo;By no means, master; but I long to be a servant of God,
+if he so will, because I wish to save my lost soul.&nbsp; Bid me, therefore,
+enter the monastery, and leave all; and send me away no more.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Then the Abbot, taking his hand, introduced him into the monastery,
+saying to the brethren, &ldquo;My sons, behold I deliver you this brother;
+teach him the canons of the monastery.&rdquo;&nbsp; Now he was in the
+monastery about four months, serving all without complaint, in which
+he learnt the whole Psalter by heart, receiving every day divine food.&nbsp;
+But the food which he took with his brethren he gave away secretly to
+the poor, not caring for the morrow.&nbsp; So the brethren ate at even:
+but he only on the seventh day.</p>
+<p>But one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took the rope
+from the bucket with which the brethren drew water, and wound it round
+his body from his loins to his neck: and going in, said to the brethren,
+&ldquo;I went out to draw water, and found no rope on the bucket.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And they said, &ldquo;Hold thy peace, brother, lest the abbot know it;
+till the thing has passed over.&rdquo;&nbsp; But his body was wounded
+by the tightness and roughness of the rope, because it cut him to the
+bone, and sank into his flesh till it was hardly seen.&nbsp; But one
+day, some of the brethren going out, found him giving his food to the
+poor; and when they returned, said to the abbot, &ldquo;Whence hast
+thou brought us that man?&nbsp; We cannot abstain like him, for he fasts
+from Lord&rsquo;s day to Lord&rsquo;s day, and gives away his food.&rdquo;
+. . . Then the abbot, going out, found as was told him, and said, &ldquo;Son,
+what is it which the brethren tell of thee?&nbsp; Is it not enough for
+thee to fast as we do?&nbsp; Hast thou not heard the Gospel, saying
+of teachers, that the disciple is not above his master?&rdquo; . . .
+The blessed Simeon stood and answered nought.&nbsp; And the abbot, being
+angry, bade strip him, and found the rope round him, so that only its
+outside appeared; and cried with a loud voice, saying, &ldquo;Whence
+has this man come to us, wanting to destroy the rule of the monastery?&nbsp;
+I pray thee depart hence, and go whither thou wiliest.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And with great trouble they took off the rope, and his flesh with it,
+and taking care of him, healed him.</p>
+<p>But after he was healed he went out of the monastery, no man knowing
+of it, and entered a deserted tank, in which was no water, where unclean
+spirits dwelt.&nbsp; And that very night it was revealed to the abbot,
+that a multitude of people surrounded the monastery with clubs and swords,
+saying, &ldquo;Give us Simeon the servant of God, Timotheus; else we
+will burn thee with thy monastery, because thou hast angered a just
+man.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when he woke, he told the brethren the vision,
+and how he was much disturbed thereby.&nbsp; And another night he saw
+a multitude of strong men standing and saying, &ldquo;Give us Simeon
+the servant of God; for he is beloved by God and the angels: why hast
+thou vexed him?&nbsp; He is greater than thou before God; for all the
+angels are sorry on his behalf.&nbsp; And God is minded to set him on
+high in the world, that by him many signs may be done, such as no man
+has done.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the abbot, rising, said with great fear
+to the brethren, &ldquo;Seek me that man, and bring him hither, lest
+perchance we all die on his account.&nbsp; He is truly a saint of God,
+for I have heard and seen great wonders of him.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then all
+the monks went out and searched, but in vain, and told the abbot how
+they had sought him everywhere, save in the deserted tank. . . .&nbsp;
+Then the abbot went, with five brethren, to the tank.&nbsp; And making
+a prayer, he went down into it with the brethren.&nbsp; And the blessed
+Simeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying, &ldquo;I beg you, servants
+of God, let me alone one hour, that I may render up my spirit; for yet
+a little, and it will fail.&nbsp; But my soul is very weary, because
+I have angered the Lord.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the abbot said to him, &ldquo;Come,
+servant of God, that we may take thee to the monastery; for I know concerning
+thee that thou art a servant of God.&rdquo;&nbsp; But when he would
+not, they brought him by force to the monastery.&nbsp; And all fell
+at his feet, weeping, and saying, &ldquo;We have sinned against thee,
+servant of God; forgive us.&rdquo;&nbsp; But the blessed Simeon groaned,
+saying, &ldquo;Wherefore do ye burden an unhappy man and a sinner?&nbsp;
+You are the servants of God, and my fathers.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he stayed
+there about one year.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>After this (says Theodoret) he came to the Telanassus, under the
+peak of the mountain on which he lived till his death; and having found
+there a little house, he remained in it shut up for three years.&nbsp;
+But eager always to increase the riches of virtue, he longed, in imitation
+of the divine Moses and Elias, to fast forty days; and tried to persuade
+Bassus, who was then set over the priests in the villages, to leave
+nothing within by him, but to close up the door with clay.&nbsp; He
+spoke to him of the difficulty, and warned him not to think that a violent
+death was a virtue.&nbsp; &ldquo;Put by me then, father,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;ten loaves, and a cruse of water, and if I find my body need
+sustenance, I will partake of them.&rdquo;&nbsp; At the end of the days,
+that wonderful man of God, Bassus, removed the clay, and going in, found
+the food and water untouched, and Simeon lying unable to speak or move.&nbsp;
+Getting a sponge, he moistened and opened his lips and then gave him
+the symbols of the divine mysteries; and, strengthened by them, he arose,
+and took some food, chewing little by little lettuces and succory, and
+such like.</p>
+<p>From that time, for twenty-eight years (says Theodoret), he had remained
+fasting continually for forty days at a time.&nbsp; But custom had made
+it more easy to him.&nbsp; For on the first days he used to stand and
+praise God; after that, when through emptiness he could stand no longer,
+he used to sit and perform the divine office; and on the last day, even
+lie down.&nbsp; For when his strength failed slowly, he was forced to
+lie half dead.&nbsp; But after he stood on the column he could not bear
+to lie down, but invented another way by which he could stand.&nbsp;
+He fastened a beam to the column, and tied himself to it by ropes, and
+so passed the forty days.&nbsp; But afterwards, when he had received
+greater grace from on high, he did not want even that help: but stood
+for the forty days, taking no food, but strengthened by alacrity of
+soul and divine grace.</p>
+<p>When he had passed three years in that little house, he took possession
+of the peak which has since been so famous; and when he had commanded
+a wall to be made round him, and procured an iron chain, twenty cubits
+long, he fastened one end of it to a great stone, and the other to his
+right foot, so that he could not, if he wished, leave those bounds.&nbsp;
+There he lived, continually picturing heaven to himself, and forcing
+himself to contemplate things which are above the heavens; for the iron
+bond did not check the flight of his thoughts.&nbsp; But when the wonderful
+Meletius, to whom the care of the episcopate of Antioch was then commended
+(a man of sense and prudence, and adorned with shrewdness of intellect),
+told him that the iron was superfluous, since the will is able enough
+to impose on the body the chains of reason, he gave way, and obeyed
+his persuasion.&nbsp; And having sent for a smith, he bade him strike
+off the chain.</p>
+<p>[Here follow some painful details unnecessary to be translated.]</p>
+<p>When, therefore, his fame was flying far and wide everywhere, all
+ran together, not only the neighbours, but those who were many days&rsquo;
+journey off, some bringing the palsied, some begging health for the
+sick, some that they might become fathers, and all wishing to receive
+from him what they had not received from nature; and when they had received,
+and gained their request, they went back joyful, proclaiming the benefits
+they had obtained, and sending many more to beg the same.&nbsp; So,
+as all are coming up from every quarter, and the road is like a river,
+one may see gathered in that place an ocean of men, which receives streams
+from every side; not only of those who live in our region, but Ishmaelites,
+and Persians, and the Armenians who are subject to them, and Iberi,
+and Homerites, and those who dwell beyond them.&nbsp; Many have come
+also from the extreme west, Spaniards, and Britons, and Gauls who live
+between the two.&nbsp; Of Italy it is superfluous to speak; for they
+say that at Rome the man has become so celebrated that they have put
+little images of him in all the porches of the shops, providing thereby
+for themselves a sort of safeguard and security.</p>
+<p>When, therefore, they came innumerable (for all tried to touch him,
+and receive some blessing from those skin garments of his), thinking
+it in the first place absurd and unfit that such exceeding honour should
+be paid him, and next, disliking the labour of the business, devised
+that station on the pillar, bidding one be built, first of six cubits,
+then of twelve, next of twenty-two, and now of thirty-six.&nbsp; For
+he longs to fly up to heaven, and be freed from this earthly conversation.</p>
+<p>But I believe that this station was made not without divine counsel.&nbsp;
+Wherefore I exhort fault-finders to bridle their tongue, and not let
+it rashly loose, but rather consider that the Lord has often devised
+such things, that he might profit those who were too slothful.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>In proof of which, Theodoret quotes the examples of Isaiah, Hosea,
+and Ezekiel; and then goes on to say how God in like manner ordained
+this new and admirable spectacle, by the novelty of it drawing all to
+look, and exhibiting to those who came, a lesson which they could trust.&nbsp;
+For the novelty of the spectacle (he says) is a worthy warrant for the
+teaching; and he who came to see goes away instructed in divine things.&nbsp;
+And as those whose lot it is to rule over men, after a certain period
+of time, change the impressions on their coins, sometimes stamping them
+with images of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes of angels, and trying,
+by a new mark, to make the gold more precious; so the King of all, adding
+to piety and true religion these new and manifold modes of living, as
+certain stamps on coin, excites to praise the tongues not only of the
+children of faith, but of those who are diseased with unbelief.&nbsp;
+And that so it is, not only words bear witness, but facts proclaim aloud.&nbsp;
+For many myriads of Ishmaelites, who were enslaved in the darkness of
+impiety, have been illuminated by that station on the column.&nbsp;
+For this most shining lamp, set as it were upon a candlestick, sent
+forth all round its rays, like of the sun: and one may see (as I said)
+Iberi coming, and Persians, and Armenians, and accepting divine baptism.&nbsp;
+But the Ishmaelites, coming by tribes, 200 and 300 at a time, and sometimes
+even 1,000, deny, with shouts, the error of their fathers; and breaking
+in pieces, before that great illuminator, the images which they had
+worshipped, and renouncing the orgies of Venus (for they had received
+from ancient times the worship of that d&aelig;mon), they receive the
+divine sacraments, and take laws from that holy tongue, bidding farewell
+to their ancestral rites, and renouncing the eating of wild asses and
+camels.&nbsp; And this I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard
+them renouncing the impiety of their fathers, and assenting to the Evangelic
+doctrine.</p>
+<p>But once I was in the greatest danger: for he himself told them to
+go to me, and receive priestly benediction, saying that they would thence
+obtain great advantage.&nbsp; But they, having run together in somewhat
+too barbarous fashion, some dragged me before, some behind, some sideways;
+and those who were further off, scrambling over the others, and stretching
+out their hands, plucked my beard, or seized my clothes; and I should
+have been stifled by their too warm onset, had not he, shouting out,
+dispersed them all.&nbsp; Such usefulness has that column, which is
+mocked at by scornful men, poured forth; and so great a ray of the knowledge
+of God has it sent forth into the minds of barbarians.</p>
+<p>I know also of his having done another thing of this kind:&mdash;One
+tribe was beseeching the divine man, that he would send forth some prayer
+and blessing for their chief: but another tribe which was present retorted
+that he ought not to bless that chief, but theirs; for the one was a
+most unjust man, but the other averse to injustice.&nbsp; And when there
+had been a great contention and barbaric wrangling between them, they
+attacked each other.&nbsp; But I, using many words, kept exhorting them
+to be quiet, seeing that the divine man was able enough to give a blessing
+to both.&nbsp; But the one tribe kept saying, that the first chief ought
+not to have it; and the other tribe trying to deprive the second chief
+of it.&nbsp; Then he, by threatening them from above, and calling them
+dogs, hardly stilled the quarrel.&nbsp; This I have told, wishing to
+show their great faith.&nbsp; For they would not have thus gone mad
+against each other, had they not believed that the divine man&rsquo;s
+blessing possesses some very great power.</p>
+<p>I saw another miracle, which was very celebrated.&nbsp; One coming
+up (he, too, was a chief of a Saracen tribe) besought the divine personage
+that he would help a man whose limbs had given way in paralysis on the
+road; and he said the misfortune had fallen on him in Callinicus, which
+is a very large camp.&nbsp; When he was brought into the midst, the
+saint bade him renounce the impiety of his forefathers; and when he
+willingly obeyed, he asked him if he believed in the Father, the only-begotten
+Son, and the Holy Spirit.&nbsp; And when he confessed that he believed&mdash;&ldquo;Believing,&rdquo;
+said he, &ldquo;in their names, Arise.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the man
+had risen, he bade him carry away his chief (who was a very large man)
+on his shoulders to his tent.&nbsp; He took him up, and went away forthwith;
+while those who were present raised their voices in praise of God.&nbsp;
+This he commanded, imitating the Lord, who bade the paralytic carry
+his bed.&nbsp; Let no man call this imitation tyranny.&nbsp; For his
+saying is, &ldquo;He who believeth in me, the works which I do, he shall
+do also, and more than these shall he do.&rdquo;&nbsp; And, indeed,
+we have seen the fulfilment of this promise.&nbsp; For though the shadow
+of the Lord never worked a miracle, the shadow of the great Peter both
+loosed death, and drove out diseases, and put d&aelig;mons to flight.&nbsp;
+But the Lord it was who did also these miracles by his servants; and
+now likewise, using his name, the divine Simeon works his innumerable
+wonders.</p>
+<p>It befell also that another wonder was worked, by no means inferior
+to the last.&nbsp; For among those who had believed in the saving name
+of the Lord Christ, an Ishmaelite, of no humble rank, had made a vow
+to God, with Simeon as witness.&nbsp; Now his promise was this, that
+he would henceforth to the end abstain from animal food.&nbsp; Transgressing
+this promise once, I know not how, he slew a bird, and dared to eat
+it.&nbsp; But God being minded to bring him by reproof to conversion,
+and to honour his servant, who was a witness to the broken vow, the
+flesh of the bird was changed into the nature of a stone, so that, even
+if he wished, he could not thenceforth eat it.&nbsp; For how could he,
+when the body meant for food had turned to stone?&nbsp; The barbarian,
+stupified by this unexpected sight, came with great haste to the holy
+man, bringing to the light the sin which he had hidden, and proclaimed
+his transgression to all, begging pardon from God, and invoking the
+help of the saint, that by his all-powerful prayers he might loose him
+from the bonds of his sin.&nbsp; Now many saw that miracle, and felt
+that the part of the bird about the breast consisted of bone and stone.</p>
+<p>But I was not only an ear-witness of his wonders, but also an ear-witness
+of his prophecies concerning futurity.&nbsp; For that drought which
+came, and the great dearth of that year, and the famine and pestilence
+which followed together, he foretold two years before, saying that he
+saw a rod which was laid on man, stripes which would be inflicted by
+it.&nbsp; Moreover, he at another time foretold an invasion of locusts,
+and that it would bring no great harm, because the divine clemency soon
+follows punishment.&nbsp; But when thirty days were past, an innumerable
+multitude of them hung aloft, so that they even cut off the sun&rsquo;s
+rays and threw a shadow; and that we all saw plainly: but it only damaged
+the cattle pastures, and in no wise hurt the food of man.&nbsp; To me,
+too, who was attacked by a certain person, he signified that the quarrel
+would end ere a fortnight was past; and I learned the truth of the prediction
+by experience.</p>
+<p>Moreover there were seen by him once two rods, which came down from
+the skies, and fell on the eastern and western lands.&nbsp; Now the
+divine man said that they signified the rising of the Persian and Scythian
+nations against the Romans; and told the vision to those who were by,
+and with many tears and assiduous prayers, warded that disaster, the
+threat whereof hung over the earth.&nbsp; Certainly the Persian nation,
+when already armed and prepared to invade the Romans, was kept back
+(the divine will being against them) from their attempt, and occupied
+at home with their own troubles.&nbsp; But while I know many other cases
+of this kind, I shall pass them over to avoid prolixity.&nbsp; These
+are surely enough to show the spiritual contemplation of his mind.</p>
+<p>His fame was great, also, with the King of the Persians; for as the
+ambassadors told, who came to him, he diligently inquired what was his
+life, and what his miracles.&nbsp; But they say that the King&rsquo;s
+wife also begged oil honoured by his blessing, and accepted it as the
+greatest of gifts.&nbsp; Moreover, all the King&rsquo;s courtiers, being
+moved by his fame, and having heard many slanders against him from the
+Magi, inquired diligently, and having learnt the truth, called him a
+divine man; while the rest of the crowd, coming to the muleteers and
+servants and soldiers, both offered money, and begged for a share in
+the oil of benediction.&nbsp; The Queen, too, of the Ishmaelites, longing
+to have a child, sent first some of her most noble subjects to the saint,
+beseeching him that she might become a mother.&nbsp; And when her prayer
+had been granted, and she had her heart&rsquo;s desire, she took the
+son who had been born, and went to the divine old man; and (because
+women were not allowed to approach him) sent the babe, entreating his
+blessing on it . . . [Here Theodoret puts into the Queen&rsquo;s mouth
+words which it is unnecessary to quote.]</p>
+<p>But how long do I strive to measure the depths of the Atlantic sea?&nbsp;
+For as they are unfathomable by man, so do the things which he does
+daily surpass narration.&nbsp; I, however, admire above all these things
+his endurance; for night and day he stands, so as to be seen by all.&nbsp;
+For as the doors are taken away, and a large part of the wall around
+pulled down, he is set forth as a new and wondrous spectacle to all;
+now standing long, now bowing himself frequently, and offering adoration
+to God.&nbsp; Many of those who stand by count these adorations; and
+once a man with me, when he had counted 1,244, and then missed, gave
+up counting: but always, when he bows himself, he touches his feet with
+his forehead.&nbsp; For as his stomach takes food only once in the week,
+and that very little&mdash;no more than is received in the divine sacraments,&mdash;his
+back admits of being easily bent. . . .&nbsp; But nothing which happens
+to him overpowers his philosophy; he bears nobly both voluntary and
+involuntary pains, and conquers both by readiness of will.</p>
+<p>There came once from Arabena a certain good man, and honoured with
+the ministry of Christ.&nbsp; He, when he had come to that mountain
+peak,&mdash;&ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;by the very truth
+which converts the human race to itself&mdash;Art thou a man, or an
+incorporeal nature?&rdquo;&nbsp; But when all there were displeased
+with the question, the saint bade them all be silent, and said to him,
+&ldquo;Why hast thou asked me this?&rdquo;&nbsp; He answered, &ldquo;Because
+I hear every one saying publicly, that thou neither eatest nor sleepest;
+but both are properties of man, and no one who has a human nature could
+have lived without food and sleep.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the saint bade
+them set a ladder to the column, and him to come up; and first to look
+at his hands, and then feel inside his cloak of skins; and to see not
+only his feet, but a severe wound.&nbsp; But when he saw that he was
+a man, and the size of that wound, and learnt from him how he took nourishment,
+he came down and told me all.</p>
+<p>At the public festivals he showed an endurance of another kind.&nbsp;
+For from the setting of the sun till it had come again to the eastern
+horizon, he stood all night with hands uplift to heaven, neither soothed
+with sleep nor conquered by fatigue.&nbsp; But in toils so great, and
+so great a magnitude of deeds, and multitude of miracles, his self-esteem
+is as moderate as if he were in dignity the least of all men.&nbsp;
+Beside his modesty, he is easy of access of speech, and gracious, and
+answers every man who speaks to him, whether he be handicraftsman, beggar,
+or rustic.&nbsp; And from the bounteous God he has received also the
+gift of teaching, and making his exhortations twice a day, he delights
+the ears of those who hear, discoursing much on grace, and setting forth
+the instructions of the Divine Spirit to look up and fly toward heaven,
+and depart from the earth, and imagine the kingdom which is expected,
+and fear the threats of Gehenna, and despise earthly things, and wait
+for things to come.&nbsp; He may be seen, too, acting as judge, and
+giving right and just decisions.&nbsp; This, and the like, is done after
+the ninth hour.&nbsp; For all night, and through the day to the ninth
+hour, he prays perpetually.&nbsp; After that, he first sets forth the
+divine teaching to those who are present; then having heard each man&rsquo;s
+petition, after he has performed some cures, he settles the quarrels
+of those between whom there is any dispute.&nbsp; About sunset he begins
+the rest of his converse with God.&nbsp; But though he is employed in
+this way, and does all this, he does not give up the care of the holy
+Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks, sometimes
+checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to flight the bands
+of heretics, and sometimes sending messages concerning these last to
+the Emperor; sometimes, too, stirring up rulers to zeal for God, and
+sometimes exhorting the pastors of the Churches to bestow more care
+upon their flocks.</p>
+<p>I have gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by one
+drop, and to give those who meet with my writing a taste on the finger
+of the sweetness of the honey.&nbsp; But there remains (as is to be
+expected) much more; and if he should live longer, he will probably
+add still greater wonders. . . .</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Thus far Theodoret.&nbsp; Antony gives some other details of Simeon&rsquo;s
+life upon the column.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>The devil, he says, in envy transformed himself into the likeness
+of an angel, shining in splendour, with fiery horses, and a fiery chariot,
+and appeared close to the column on which the blessed Simeon stood,
+and shone with glory like an angel.&nbsp; And the devil said with bland
+speeches, &ldquo;Simeon, hear my words, which the Lord hath commanded
+thee.&nbsp; He has sent me, his angel, with a chariot and horses of
+fire, that I may carry thee away, as I carried Elias.&nbsp; For thy
+time is come.&nbsp; Do thou, in like wise, ascend now with me into the
+chariot, because the Lord of heaven and earth has sent it down.&nbsp;
+Let us ascend together into the heavens, that the angels and archangels
+may see thee, with Mary the mother of the Lord, with the Apostles and
+martyrs, the confessors and prophets; because they rejoice to see thee,
+that thou mayest pray to the Lord, who hast made thee after his own
+image.&nbsp; Verily I have spoken to thee: delay not to ascend.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Simeon, having ended his prayer, said, &ldquo;Lord, wilt thou carry
+me, a sinner, into heaven?&rdquo;&nbsp; And lifting his right foot that
+he might step into the chariot, he lifted also his right hand, and made
+the sign of Christ.&nbsp; When he had made the sign of the cross, forthwith
+the devil appeared nowhere, but vanished with his device, as dust before
+the face of the wind.&nbsp; Then understood Simeon that it was an art
+of the devil.</p>
+<p>Having recovered himself, therefore, he said to his foot, &ldquo;Thou
+shalt not return back hence, but stand here until my death, when the
+Lord shall send for me a sinner.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>[Here follow more painful stories, which had best be omitted.]</p>
+<p>But after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to see
+him, but was forbidden, because no woman entered that place.&nbsp; But
+when the blessed Simeon heard the voice of his mother, he said to her,
+&ldquo;Bear up, my mother, a little while, and we shall see each other,
+if God will.&rdquo;&nbsp; But she, hearing this, began to weep, and
+tearing her hair, rebuked him, saying, &ldquo;Son, why hast thou done
+this?&nbsp; In return for the body in which I bore thee, thou hast filled
+me full of grief.&nbsp; For the milk with which I nourished thee, thou
+hast given me tears.&nbsp; For the kiss with which I kissed thee, thou
+hast given me bitter pangs of heart.&nbsp; For the grief and labour
+which I have suffered, thou hast laid on me cruel stripes.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And she spoke so much that she made us all weep.&nbsp; The blessed Simeon,
+hearing the voice of her who bore him, put his face in his hands and
+wept bitterly; and commanded her, saying, &ldquo;Lady mother, be still
+a little time, and we shall see each other in eternal rest.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But she began to say, &ldquo;By Christ, who formed thee, if there is
+a probability of seeing thee, who hast been so long a stranger to me,
+let me see thee; or if not, let me only hear thy voice and die at once;
+for thy father is dead in sorrow because of thee.&nbsp; And now do not
+destroy me for very bitterness, my son.&rdquo;&nbsp; Saying this, for
+sorrow and weeping she fell asleep; for during three days and three
+nights she had not ceased entreating him.&nbsp; Then the blessed Simeon
+prayed the Lord for her, and she forthwith gave up the ghost.</p>
+<p>But they took up her body, and brought it where he could see it.&nbsp;
+And he said, weeping, &ldquo;The Lord receive thee in joy, because thou
+hast endured tribulation for me, and borne me, and nursed and nourished
+me with labour.&rdquo;&nbsp; And as he said that, his mother&rsquo;s
+countenance perspired, and her body was stirred in the sight of us all.&nbsp;
+But he, lifting up his eyes to heaven, said, &ldquo;Lord God of virtues,
+who sittest above the cherubim, and searchest the foundations of the
+abyss, who knewest Adam before he was; who hast promised the riches
+of the kingdom of heaven to those who love thee; who didst speak to
+Moses in the bush of fire; who blessedst Abraham our father; who bringest
+into Paradise the souls of the just, and sinkest the souls of the impious
+to perdition; who didst humble the lions, and mitigate for thy servants
+the strong fires of the Chaldees; who didst nourish Elisha by the ravens
+which brought him food&mdash;receive her soul in peace, and put her
+in the place of the holy fathers, for thine is the power for ever and
+ever.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Antony then goes on to relate the later years of the saint&rsquo;s
+life.</p>
+<p>He tells how Simeon, some time after this, ascended the column of
+forty cubits; how a great dragon (serpent) crawled towards it, and coiled
+round it, entreating (so it seemed) to be freed from a spike of wood
+which had entered its eye; and how, St. Simeon took pity on it, he caused
+the spike (which was a cubit long) to come out.</p>
+<p>He tells how a woman, drinking water from a jar at night, swallowed
+a snake unawares, which grew within her, till she was brought to the
+blessed Simeon, who commanded some of the water of the monastery to
+be given her; on which the serpent crawled out of her mouth, three cubits
+long, and burst immediately; and was hung up there seven days, as a
+testimony to many.</p>
+<p>He tells how, when there was great want of water, St. Simeon prayed
+till the earth opened on the east of the monastery, and a cave full
+of water was discovered, which had never failed them to that day.</p>
+<p>He tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the saint,
+saw a doe go by, and commanded her to stop, &ldquo;by the prayers of
+St. Simeon;&rdquo; which when she had done, they killed and ate her,
+and came to St. Simeon with the skin.&nbsp; But they were all struck
+dumb, and hardly cured after two years.&nbsp; And the skin of the doe
+they hung up, for a testimony to many.</p>
+<p>He tells of a huge leopard, which slew men and cattle all around;
+and how St. Simeon bade sprinkle in his haunts soil or water from the
+monastery; and when men went again, they found the leopard dead.</p>
+<p>He tells how, when St. Simeon cured any one, he bade him go home,
+and honour God who had healed him, and not dare to say that Simeon had
+cured him, lest a worse thing should suddenly come to him; and not to
+presume to swear by the name of the Lord, for it was a grave sin; but
+to swear, &ldquo;whether justly or unjustly, by him, lowly and a sinner.&nbsp;
+Wherefore all the Easterns, and barbarous tribes in those regions, swear
+by Simeon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He tells how a robber from Antioch, Jonathan by name, fled to St.
+Simeon, and embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and saying how he
+had committed every crime, and had come thither to repent.&nbsp; And
+how the saint said, &ldquo;Of such is the kingdom of heaven: but do
+not try to tempt me, lest thou be found again in the sins which thou
+hast cast away.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then came the officials from Antioch, demanding
+that he should be given up, to be cast to the wild beasts.&nbsp; But
+Simeon answered, &ldquo;My sons, I brought him not hither, but One greater
+than I; for he helps such as this man, and of such is the kingdom of
+heaven.&nbsp; But if you can enter, carry him hence; I cannot give him
+up, for I fear him who has sent the man to me.&rdquo;&nbsp; And they,
+struck with fear, went away.&nbsp; Then Jonathan lay for seven days
+embracing the column, and then asked the saint leave to go.&nbsp; The
+saint asked him if he were going back to sin?&nbsp; &ldquo;No, lord,&rdquo;
+he said; &ldquo;but my time is fulfilled,&rdquo; and straightway he
+gave up the ghost; and when officials came again from Antioch, demanding
+him, Simeon replied: &ldquo;He who brought him came with a multitude
+of the heavenly host, and is able to send into Tartarus your city, and
+all who dwell in it, who also has reconciled this man to himself; and
+I was afraid lest he should slay me suddenly.&nbsp; Therefore weary
+me no more, a humble man and poor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But after a few years (says Antony) it befell one day that he bowed
+himself in prayer, and remained so three days&mdash;that is, the Friday,
+the Sabbath, and the Lord&rsquo;s day.&nbsp; Then I was terrified, and
+went up to him, and stood before his face, and said to him, &ldquo;Master,
+arise: bless us; for the people have been waiting three days and three
+nights for a blessing from thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; And he answered me not;
+and I said again to him: &ldquo;Wherefore dost thou grieve me, lord?
+or in what have I offended?&nbsp; I beseech thee, put out thy hand to
+me; or, perchance, thou hast already departed from us?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one; for
+I feared to touch him: and, standing about half an hour, I bent down,
+and put my ear to listen; and there was no breathing: but a fragrance
+as of many scents rose from his body.&nbsp; And so I understood that
+he rested in the Lord; and, turning faint, I wept most bitterly; and,
+bending down, I kissed his eyes, and clasped his beard and hair, and
+reproaching him, I said: &ldquo;To whom dost thou leave me, lord? or
+where shall I seek thy angelic doctrine?&nbsp; What answer shall I make
+for thee? or whose soul will look at this column, without thee, and
+not grieve?&nbsp; What answer shall I make to the sick, when they come
+here to seek thee, and find thee not?&nbsp; What shall I say, poor creature
+that I am?&nbsp; To-day I see thee; to-morrow I shall look right and
+left, and not find thee.&nbsp; And what covering shall I put upon thy
+column?&nbsp; Woe to me, when folk shall come from afar, seeking thee,
+and shall not find thee!&rdquo;&nbsp; And, for much sorrow, I fell asleep.</p>
+<p>And forthwith he appeared to me, and said: &ldquo;I will not leave
+this column, nor this place, and this blessed mountain, where I was
+illuminated.&nbsp; But go down, satisfy the people, and send word secretly
+to Antioch, lest a tumult arise.&nbsp; For I have gone to rest, as the
+Lord willed: but do thou not cease to minister in this place, and the
+Lord shall repay thee thy wages in heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But, rising from sleep, I said, in terror, &ldquo;Master, remember
+me in thy holy rest.&rdquo;&nbsp; And, lifting up his garments, I fell
+at his feet, and kissed them; and, holding his hands, I laid them on
+my eyes, saying, &ldquo;Bless me, I beseech thee, my lord!&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And again I wept, and said, &ldquo;What relics shall I carry away from
+thee as memorials?&rdquo;&nbsp; And as I said that his body was moved;
+therefore I was afraid to touch him.</p>
+<p>And, that no one might know, I came down quickly, and sent a faithful
+brother to the Bishop at Antioch.&nbsp; He came at once with three Bishops,
+and with them Ardaburius, the master of the soldiers, with his people,
+and stretched curtains round the column, and fastened their clothes
+around it.&nbsp; For they were cloth of gold.</p>
+<p>And when they laid him down by the altar before the column, and gathered
+themselves together, birds flew round the column, crying, and as it
+were lamenting, in all men&rsquo;s sight; and the wailing of the people
+and of the cattle resounded for seven miles away; yea, even the hills,
+and the fields, and the trees were sad around that place; for everywhere
+a dark cloud hung about it.&nbsp; And I watched an angel coming to visit
+him; and, about the seventh hour, seven old men talked with that angel,
+whose face was like lightning, and his garments as snow.&nbsp; And I
+watched his voice, in fear and trembling, as long as I could hear it;
+but what he said I cannot tell.</p>
+<p>But when the holy Simeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of Antioch,
+wishing to take some of his beard for a blessing, stretched out his
+hand; and forthwith it was dried up; and prayers were made to God for
+him, and so his hand was restored again.</p>
+<p>Then, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to Antioch, with
+psalms and hymns.&nbsp; But all the people round that region wept, because
+the protection of such mighty relics was taken from them, and because
+the Bishop of Antioch had sworn that no man should touch his body.</p>
+<p>But when they came to the fifth milestone from Antioch, to the village
+which is called Mero&euml;, no one could move him.&nbsp; Then a certain
+man, deaf and dumb for forty years, who had committed a very great crime,
+suddenly fell down before the bier, and began to cry, &ldquo;Thou art
+well come, servant of God; for thy coming will save me: and if I shall
+obtain the grace to live, I will serve thee all the days of my life.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And, rising, he caught hold of one of the mules which carried the bier,
+and forthwith moved himself from that place.&nbsp; And so the man was
+made whole from that hour.</p>
+<p>Then all going out of the city of Antioch received the body of the
+holy Simeon on gold and silver, with psalms and hymns, and with many
+lamps brought it into the greater church, and thence to another church,
+which is called Penitence.&nbsp; Moreover, many virtues are wrought
+at his tomb, more than in his life; and the man who was made whole served
+there till the day of his death.&nbsp; But many offered treasures to
+the Bishop of Antioch for the faith, begging relics from the body: but,
+on account of his oath, he never gave them.</p>
+<p>I, Antony, lowly and a sinner, have set forth briefly, as far as
+I could, this lesson.&nbsp; But blessed is he who has this writing in
+a book, and reads it in the church and house of God; and when he shall
+have brought it to his memory, he shall receive a reward from the Most
+High; to whom is honour, power, and virtue, for ever and ever.&nbsp;
+Amen.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>After such a fantastic story as this of Simeon, it is full time (some
+readers may have thought that it was full time long since) to give my
+own opinion of the miracles, visions, d&aelig;mons, and other portents
+which occur in the lives of these saints.&nbsp; I have refrained from
+doing so as yet, because I wished to begin by saying everything on behalf
+of these old hermits which could honestly be said, and to prejudice
+my readers&rsquo; minds in their favour rather than against them; because
+I am certain that if we look on them merely with scorn and ridicule,&mdash;if
+we do not acknowledge and honour all in them which was noble, virtuous,
+and honest,&mdash;we shall never be able to combat their errors, either
+in our own hearts or in those of our children: and that we may have
+need to do so is but too probable.&nbsp; In this age, as in every other
+age of materialism and practical atheism, a revulsion in favour of superstition
+is at hand; I may say is taking place round us now.&nbsp; Doctrines
+are tolerated as possibly true,&mdash;persons are regarded with respect
+and admiration, who would have been looked on, even fifty years ago,
+if not with horror, yet with contempt, as beneath the serious notice
+of educated English people.&nbsp; But it is this very contempt which
+has brought about the change of opinion concerning them.&nbsp; It has
+been discovered that they were not altogether so absurd as they seemed;
+that the public mind, in its ignorance, has been unjust to them; and,
+in hasty repentance for that injustice, too many are ready to listen
+to those who will tell them that these things are not absurd at all&mdash;that
+there is no absurdity in believing that the leg-bone of St. Simon Stock
+may possess miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the departed communicate
+with their friends by rapping on the table.&nbsp; The ugly after-crop
+of superstition which is growing up among us now is the just and natural
+punishment of our materialism&mdash;I may say, of our practical atheism.&nbsp;
+For those who will not believe in the real spiritual world, in which
+each man&rsquo;s soul stands face to face all day long with Almighty
+God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, are sure at last to crave
+after some false spiritual world, and seek, like the evil and profligate
+generation of the Jews, after visible signs and material wonders.&nbsp;
+And those who will not believe that the one true and living God is above
+their path and about their bed and spieth out all their ways, and that
+in him they live and move and have their being, are but too likely at
+last to people with fancied saints and d&aelig;mons that void in the
+imagination and in the heart which their own unbelief has made.</p>
+<p>Are we then to suppose that these old hermits had lost faith in God?&nbsp;
+On the contrary, they were the only men in that day who had faith in
+God.&nbsp; And, if they had faith in any other things or persons beside
+God, they merely shared in the general popular ignorance and mistakes
+of their own age; and we must not judge those who, born in an age of
+darkness, were struggling earnestly toward the light, as we judge those
+who, born in an age of scientific light, are retiring of their own will
+back into the darkness.</p>
+<p>Before I enter upon the credibility of these alleged saints&rsquo;
+miracles, I must guard my readers carefully from supposing that I think
+miracles impossible.&nbsp; Heaven forbid.&nbsp; He would be a very rash
+person who should do that, in a world which swarms with greater wonders
+than those recorded in the biography of a saint.&nbsp; For, after all,
+which is more wonderful, that God should be able to restore the dead
+to life, or that he should be able to give life at all?&nbsp; Again,
+as for these miracles being contrary to our experience, that is no very
+valid argument against them; for equally contrary to our experience
+is every new discovery of science, every strange phenomenon among plants
+and animals, every new experiment in a chemical lecture.</p>
+<p>The more we know of science the more we must confess, that nothing
+is too strange to be true: and therefore we must not blame or laugh
+at those who in old times believed in strange things which were not
+true.&nbsp; They had an honest and rational sense of the infinite and
+wonderful nature of the universe, and of their own ignorance about it;
+and they were ready to believe anything, as the truly wise man will
+be ready also.&nbsp; Only, from ignorance of the laws of the universe,
+they did not know what was likely to be true and what was not; and therefore
+they believed many things which experience has proved to be false; just
+as Seba or any of the early naturalists were ready to believe in six-legged
+dragons, or in the fatal power of the basilisk&rsquo;s eye; fancies
+which, if they had been facts, would not have been nearly as wonderful
+as the transformation of the commonest insect, or the fertilization
+of the meanest weed: but which are rejected now, not because they are
+too wonderful, but simply because experience has proved them to be untrue.&nbsp;
+And experience, it must be remembered, is the only sound test of truth.&nbsp;
+As long as men will settle beforehand for themselves, without experience,
+what they ought to see, so long will they be perpetually fancying that
+they or others have seen it; and their faith, as it is falsely called,
+will delude not only their reason, but their very hearing, sight, and
+touch.</p>
+<p>In this age we see no supernatural prodigies, because there are none
+to see; and when we are told that the reason why we see no prodigies
+is because we have no faith, we answer (if we be sensible), Just so.&nbsp;
+As long as people had faith, in plain English believed, that they could
+be magically cured of a disease, they thought that they or others were
+so cured.&nbsp; As long as they believed that ghosts could be seen,
+every silly person saw them.&nbsp; As long as they believed that d&aelig;mons
+transformed themselves into an animal&rsquo;s shape, they said, &ldquo;The
+devil croaked at me this morning in the shape of a raven; and therefore
+my horse fell with me.&rdquo;&nbsp; As long as they believed that witches
+could curse them, they believed that an old woman in the next parish
+had overlooked them, their cattle, and their crops; and that therefore
+they were poor, diseased, and unfortunate.&nbsp; These dreams, which
+were common among the peasants in remote districts five-and-twenty years
+ago, have vanished, simply from the spread (by the grace of God, as
+I hold) of an inductive habit of mind; of the habit of looking coolly,
+boldly, carefully, at facts; till now, even among the most ignorant
+peasantry, the woman who says that she has seen a ghost is likely not
+to be complimented on her assertion.&nbsp; But it does not follow that
+that woman&rsquo;s grandmother, when she said that she saw a ghost,
+was a consciously dishonest person; on the contrary, so complex and
+contradictory is human nature, she would have been, probably, a person
+of more than average intellect and earnestness; and her instinct of
+the invisible and the infinite (which is that which raises man above
+the brutes) would have been, because misinformed, the honourable cause
+of her error.&nbsp; And thus we may believe of the good hermits, of
+whom prodigies are recorded.</p>
+<p>As to the truth of the prodigies themselves, there are several ways
+of looking at them.</p>
+<p>First, we may neither believe nor disbelieve them; but talk of them
+as &ldquo;devout fairy tales,&rdquo; religious romances, and allegories;
+and so save ourselves the trouble of judging whether they were true.&nbsp;
+That is at least an easy and pleasant method; very fashionable in a
+careless, unbelieving age like this: but in following it we shall be
+somewhat cowardly; for there is hardly any matter a clear judgment on
+which is more important just now than these same saints&rsquo; miracles.</p>
+<p>Next, we may believe them utterly and all; and that is also an easy
+and pleasant method.&nbsp; But if we follow it, we shall be forced to
+believe, among other facts, that St. Paphnutius was carried miraculously
+across a river, because he was too modest to undress himself and wade;
+that St. Helenus rode a savage crocodile across a river, and then commanded
+it to die; and that it died accordingly upon the spot; and that St.
+Goar, entering the palace of the Archbishop of Tr&ecirc;ves, hung his
+cape on a sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.&nbsp; And many other like
+things we shall be forced to believe, with which this book has no concern.</p>
+<p>Or, again, we may believe as much as we can, because we should like,
+if we could, to believe all.&nbsp; But as we have not&mdash;no man has
+as yet&mdash;any criterion by which we can judge how much of these stories
+we ought to believe and how much not, which actually happened and which
+did not, therefore we shall end (as not only the most earnest and pious,
+but the most clear and logical persons, who have taken up this view,
+have ended already) by believing all: which is an end not to be desired.</p>
+<p>Or we may believe as few as possible of them, because we should like,
+if we could, to believe none.&nbsp; And this method, for the reason
+aforesaid (namely, that there is no criterion by which we can settle
+what to believe and what not), usually ends in believing none at all.</p>
+<p>This, of believing none at all, is the last method; and this, I confess
+fairly, I am inclined to think is the right one; and that these good
+hermits worked no real miracles and saw no real visions whatsoever.</p>
+<p>I confess that this is a very serious assertion.&nbsp; For there
+is as much evidence in favour of these hermits&rsquo; miracles and visions
+as there is, with most men, of the existence of China; and much more
+than there, with most men, is of the earth&rsquo;s going round the sun.</p>
+<p>But the truth is, that evidence, in most matters of importance, is
+worth very little.&nbsp; Very few people decide a question on its facts,
+but on their own prejudices as to what they would like to have happened.&nbsp;
+Very few people are judges of evidence; not even of their own eyes and
+ears.&nbsp; Very few persons, when they see a thing, know what they
+have seen, and what not.&nbsp; They tell you quite honestly, not what
+they saw, but what they think they ought to have seen, or should like
+to have seen.&nbsp; It is a fact too often conveniently forgotten, that
+in every human crowd the majority will be more or less bad, or at least
+foolish; the slaves of anger, spite, conceit, vanity, sordid hope, and
+sordid fear.&nbsp; But let them be as honest and as virtuous as they
+may, pleasure, terror, and the desire of seeming to have seen or heard
+more than their neighbours, and all about it, make them exaggerate.&nbsp;
+If you take apart five honest men, who all stood by and saw the same
+man do anything strange, offensive, or even exciting, no two of them
+will give you quite the same account of it.&nbsp; If you leave them
+together, while excited, an hour before you question them, they will
+have compared notes and made up one story, which will contain all their
+mistakes combined; and it will require the skill of a practised barrister
+to pick the grain of wheat out of the chaff.</p>
+<p>Moreover, when people are crowded together under any excitement,
+there is nothing which they will not make each other believe.&nbsp;
+They will make each other believe in spirit-rapping, table-turning,
+the mesmeric fluid, electro-biology; that they saw the lion on Northumberland
+House wagging his tail; <a name="citation203"></a><a href="#footnote203">{203}</a>
+that witches have been seen riding in the air; that the Jews had poisoned
+the wells; that&mdash;but why go further into the sad catalogue of human
+absurdities, and the crimes which have followed them?&nbsp; Every one
+is ashamed of not seeing what every one else sees, and persuades himself
+against his own eye sight for fear of seeming stupid or ill-conditioned;
+and therefore in all evidence, the fewer witnesses, the more truth,
+because the evidence of ten men is worth more than that of a hundred
+together; and the evidence of a thousand men together is worth still
+less.</p>
+<p>Now, if people are savage and ignorant, diseased and poverty-stricken;
+even if they are merely excited and credulous, and quite sure that something
+wonderful must happen, then they will be also quite certain that something
+wonderful has happened; and their evidence will be worth nothing at
+all.</p>
+<p>Moreover, suppose that something really wonderful has happened; suppose,
+for instance, that some nervous or paralytic person has been suddenly
+restored to strength by the command of a saint or of some other remarkable
+man.&nbsp; This is quite possible, I may say common; and it is owing
+neither to physical nor to so-called spiritual causes, but simply to
+the power which a strong mind has over a weak one, to make it exert
+itself, and cure itself by its own will, though but for a time.</p>
+<p>When this good news comes to be told, and to pass from mouth to mouth,
+it ends of quite a different shape from that in which it began.&nbsp;
+It has been added to, taken from, twisted in every direction according
+to the fancy or the carelessness of each teller, till what really happened
+in the first case no one will be able to say; <a name="citation204"></a><a href="#footnote204">{204}</a>
+and this is, therefore, what actually happened, in the case of these
+reported wonders.&nbsp; Moreover (and this is the most important consideration
+of all) for men to be fair judges of what really happens, they must
+have somewhat sound minds in somewhat sound bodies; which no man can
+have (however honest and virtuous) who gives himself up, as did these
+old hermits, to fasting and vigils.&nbsp; That continued sleeplessness
+produces delusions, and at last actual madness, every physician knows;
+and they know also, as many a poor sailor has known when starving on
+a wreck, and many a poor soldier in such a retreat as that of Napoleon
+from Moscow, that extreme hunger and thirst produce delusions also,
+very similar to (and caused much in the same way as) those produced
+by ardent spirits; so that many a wretched creature ere now has been
+taken up for drunkenness, who has been simply starving to death.</p>
+<p>Whence it follows that these good hermits, by continual fasts and
+vigils, must have put themselves (and their histories prove that they
+did put themselves) into a state of mental disease, in which their evidence
+was worth nothing; a state in which the mind cannot distinguish between
+facts and dreams; in which life itself is one dream; in which (as in
+the case of madness, or of a feverish child) the brain cannot distinguish
+between the objects which are outside it and the imaginations which
+are inside it.&nbsp; And it is plain, that the more earnest and pious,
+and therefore the more ascetic, one of these good men was, the more
+utterly would his brain be in a state of chronic disease.&nbsp; God
+forbid that we should scorn them, therefore, or think the worse of them
+in any way.&nbsp; They were animated by a truly noble purpose, the resolution
+to be good according to their light; they carried out that purpose with
+heroical endurance, and they have their reward: but this we must say,
+if we be rational people, that on their method of holiness, the more
+holy any one of them was, the less trustworthy was his account of any
+matter whatsoever; and that the hermit&rsquo;s peculiar temptations
+(quite unknown to the hundreds of unmarried persons who lead quiet and
+virtuous, because rational and healthy, lives) are to be attributed,
+not as they thought, to a d&aelig;mon, but to a more or less unhealthy
+nervous system.</p>
+<p>It must be remembered, moreover, in justice to these old hermits,
+that they did not invent the belief that the air was full of d&aelig;mons.&nbsp;
+All the Eastern nations had believed in Genii (Jinns), Fairies (Peris),
+and Devas, Divs, or devils.&nbsp; The Devas of the early Hindus were
+beneficent beings: to the eyes of the old Persians (in their hatred
+of idolatry and polytheism), they appeared evil beings, Divs, or Devils.&nbsp;
+And even so the genii and d&aelig;mons of the Roman Empire became, in
+the eyes of the early Christians, wicked and cruel spirits.</p>
+<p>And they had their reasons, and on the whole sound ones, for so regarding
+them.&nbsp; The educated classes had given up any honest and literal
+worship of the old gods.&nbsp; They were trying to excuse themselves
+for their lingering half belief in them, by turning them into allegories,
+powers of nature, metaphysical abstractions, as did Porphyry and Iamblichus,
+Plotinus and Proclus, and the rest of the Neo-Platonist school of aristocratic
+philosophers and fine ladies: but the lower classes still, in every
+region, kept up their own local beliefs and worships, generally of the
+most foul and brutal kind.&nbsp; The animal worship of Egypt among the
+lower classes was sufficiently detestable in the time of Herodotus.&nbsp;
+It had certainly not improved in that of Juvenal and Persius; and was
+still less likely to have improved afterwards.&nbsp; This is a subject
+so shocking that it can be only hinted at.&nbsp; But as a single instance&mdash;what
+wonder if the early hermits of Egypt looked on the crocodile as something
+diabolic, after seeing it, for generations untold, petted and worshipped
+in many a city, simply because it was the incarnate symbol of brute
+strength, cruelty, and cunning?&nbsp; We must remember, also, that earlier
+generations (the old Norsemen and Germans just as much as the old Egyptians)
+were wont to look on animals as more miraculous than we do; as more
+akin, in many cases, to human beings; as guided, not by a mere blind
+instinct, but by an intellect which was allied to, and often surpassed
+man&rsquo;s intellect.&nbsp; &ldquo;The bear,&rdquo; said the old Norsemen,
+&ldquo;had ten men&rsquo;s strength, and eleven men&rsquo;s wit; &ldquo;and
+in some such light must the old hermits have looked on the hy&aelig;na,
+&ldquo;bellua,&rdquo; the monster <i>par excellence</i>; or on the crocodile,
+the hippopotamus, and the poisonous snakes, which have been objects
+of terror and adoration in every country where they have been formidable.&nbsp;
+Whether the hy&aelig;nas were d&aelig;mons, or were merely sent by the
+d&aelig;mons, St. Antony and St. Athanasius do not clearly define, for
+they did not know.&nbsp; It was enough for them that the beasts prowled
+at night in those desert cities, which were, according to the opinions,
+not only of the Easterns, but of the Romans, the special haunt of ghouls,
+witches, and all uncanny things.&nbsp; Their fiendish laughter&mdash;which,
+when heard even in a modern menagerie, excites and shakes most person&rsquo;s
+nerves&mdash;rang through hearts and brains which had no help or comfort,
+save in God alone.&nbsp; The beast tore up the dead from their graves;
+devoured alike the belated child and the foulest offal; and was in all
+things a type and incarnation of that which man ought not to be.&nbsp;
+Why should not he, so like the worst of men, have some bond or kindred
+with the evil beings who were not men?&nbsp; Why should not the graceful
+and deadly cobra, the horrid cerastes, the huge throttling python, and
+even more, the loathly puff-adder, undistinguishable from the gravel
+among which he lay coiled, till he leaped furiously and unswerving,
+as if shot from a bow, upon his prey&mdash;why should not they too be
+kindred to that evil power who had been, in the holiest and most ancient
+books, personified by the name of the Serpent?&nbsp; Before we have
+a right to say that the hermits&rsquo; view of these deadly animals
+was not the most rational, as well as the most natural, which they could
+possibly have taken up, we must put ourselves in their places; and look
+at nature as they had learnt to look at it, not from Scripture and Christianity,
+so much as from the immemorial traditions of their heathen ancestors.</p>
+<p>If it be argued, that they ought to have been well enough acquainted
+with these beasts to be aware of their merely animal nature, the answer
+is&mdash;that they were probably not well acquainted with the beasts
+of the desert.&nbsp; They had never, perhaps, before their &ldquo;conversion,&rdquo;
+left the narrow valley, well tilled and well inhabited, which holds
+the Nile.&nbsp; A climb from it into the barren mountains and deserts
+east and west was a journey out of the world into chaos, and the region
+of the unknown and the horrible, which demanded high courage from the
+unarmed and effeminate Egyptian, who knew not what monster he might
+meet ere sundown.&nbsp; Moreover, it is very probable that during these
+centuries of decadence, in Egypt, as in other parts of the Roman Empire,
+&ldquo;the wild beasts of the field had increased&rdquo; on the population,
+and were reappearing in the more cultivated grounds.</p>
+<p>But these old hermits appear perpetually in another, and a more humane,
+if not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers of savage beasts.&nbsp;
+Those who wish to know all which can be alleged in favour of their having
+possessed such a power, should read M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s chapter,
+&ldquo;Les Moines et la Nature.&rdquo; <a name="citation209"></a><a href="#footnote209">{209}</a>&nbsp;
+All that learning and eloquence can say in favour of the theory is said
+there; and with a candour which demands from no man full belief of many
+beautiful but impossible stories, &ldquo;travesties of historic verity,&rdquo;
+which have probably grown up from ever-varying tradition in the course
+of ages.&nbsp; M. de Montalembert himself points out a probable explanation
+of many of them:&mdash;An ingenious scholar of our times<a name="citation210"></a><a href="#footnote210">{210}</a>
+(he says) has pointed out their true and legitimate origin&mdash;at
+least in Ancient Gaul.&nbsp; According to him, after the gradual disappearance
+of the Gallo-Roman population, the oxen, the horses, the dogs had returned
+to the wild state; and it was in the forest that the Breton missionaries
+had to seek these animals, to employ them anew for domestic use.&nbsp;
+The miracle was, to restore to man the command and the enjoyment of
+those creatures, which God had given him as instruments.</p>
+<p>This theory is probable enough, and will explain, doubtless, many
+stories.&nbsp; It may even explain those of tamed wolves, who may have
+been only feral dogs, <i>i.e</i>. dogs run wild.&nbsp; But it will not
+explain those in which (in Ireland as well as in Gaul) the stag appears
+as obeying the hermit&rsquo;s commands.&nbsp; The twelve huge stags
+who come out of the forest to draw the ploughs for St. Leonor and his
+monks, or those who drew to his grave the corpse of the Irish hermit
+Kellac, or those who came out of the forest to supply the place of St.
+Colodoc&rsquo;s cattle, which the seigneur had carried off in revenge
+for his having given sanctuary to a hunted deer, must have been wild
+from the beginning; and many another tale must remain without any explanation
+whatsoever&mdash;save the simplest of all.&nbsp; Neither can any such
+theory apply to the marvels vouched for by St. Athanasius, St. Jerome,
+and other contemporaries, which &ldquo;show us (to quote M. de Montalembert)
+the most ferocious animals at the feet of such men as Antony, Pachomius,
+Macarius, and Hilarion, and those who copied them.&nbsp; At every page
+one sees wild asses, crocodiles, hippopotami, hy&aelig;nas, and, above
+all, lions, transformed into respectful companions and docile servants
+of these prodigies of sanctity; and one concludes thence, not that these
+beasts had reasonable souls, but that God knew how to glorify those
+who devoted themselves to his glory, and thus show how all Nature obeyed
+man before he was excluded from Paradise by his disobedience.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary biographers
+assign for these wonders.&nbsp; The hermits were believed to have returned,
+by celibacy and penitence, to &ldquo;the life of angels;&rdquo; to that
+state of perfect innocence which was attributed to our first parents
+in Eden: and therefore of them our Lord&rsquo;s words were true: &ldquo;He
+that believeth in me, greater things than these (which I do) shall he
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But those who are of a different opinion will seek for different
+causes.&nbsp; They will, the more they know of these stories, admire
+often their gracefulness, often their pathos, often their deep moral
+significance; they will feel the general truth of M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+words: &ldquo;There is not one of them which does not honour and profit
+human nature, and which does not express a victory of weakness over
+force, and of good over evil.&rdquo;&nbsp; But if they look on physical
+facts as sacred things, as the voice of God revealed in the phenomena
+of matter, their first question will be, &ldquo;Are they true?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Some of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus, riding
+and then slaying the crocodile.&nbsp; It did not happen.&nbsp; Abbot
+Ammon <a name="citation212a"></a><a href="#footnote212a">{212a}</a>
+did not make two dragons guard his cell against robbers.&nbsp; St. Gerasimus
+<a name="citation212b"></a><a href="#footnote212b">{212b}</a> did not
+set the lion, out of whose foot he had taken a thorn, to guard his ass;
+and when the ass was stolen by an Arabian camel-driver, he did not (fancying
+that the lion had eaten the ass) make him carry water in the ass&rsquo;s
+stead.&nbsp; Neither did the lion, when next he met the thief and the
+ass, bring them up, in his own justification, <a name="citation212c"></a><a href="#footnote212c">{212c}</a>
+to St. Gerasimus.&nbsp; St. Costinian did not put a pack-saddle on a
+bear, and make him carry a great stone.&nbsp; A lioness did not bring
+her five blind whelps to a hermit, that he might give them sight. <a name="citation212d"></a><a href="#footnote212d">{212d}</a>&nbsp;
+And, though Sulpicius Severus says that he saw it with his own eyes,
+<a name="citation212e"></a><a href="#footnote212e">{212e}</a> it is
+hard to believe the latter part of the graceful story which he tells&mdash;of
+an old hermit whom he found dwelling alone twelve miles from the Nile,
+by a well of vast depth.&nbsp; One ox he had, whose whole work was to
+raise the water by a wheel.&nbsp; Around him was a garden of herbs,
+kept rich and green amid the burning sand, where neither seed nor root
+could live.&nbsp; The old man and the ox fed together on the produce
+of their common toil; but two miles off there was a single palm-tree,
+to which, after supper, the hermit takes his guests.&nbsp; Beneath the
+palm they find a lioness; but instead of attacking them, she moves &ldquo;modestly&rdquo;
+away at the old man&rsquo;s command, and sits down to wait for her share
+of dates.&nbsp; She feeds out of his hand, like a household animal,
+and goes her way, leaving her guests trembling, &ldquo;and confessing
+how great was the virtue of the hermit&rsquo;s faith, and how great
+their own infirmity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This last story, which one would gladly believe, were it possible,
+I have inserted as one of those which hang on the verge of credibility.&nbsp;
+In the very next page, Sulpicius Severus tells a story quite credible,
+of a she-wolf, which he saw with his own eyes as tame as any dog.&nbsp;
+There can be no more reason to doubt that fact than to ascribe it to
+a miracle.&nbsp; We may even believe that the wolf, having gnawed to
+pieces the palm basket which the good old man was weaving, went off,
+knowing that she had done wrong, and after a week came back, begged
+pardon like a rational soul, and was caressed, and given a double share
+of bread.&nbsp; Many of these stories which tell of the taming of wild
+beasts may be true, and yet contain no miracle.&nbsp; They are very
+few in number, after all, in proportion to the number of monks; they
+are to be counted at most by tens, while the monks are counted by tens
+of thousands.&nbsp; And among many great companies of monks, there may
+have been one individual, as there is, for instance, in many a country
+parish a bee-taker or a horse-tamer, of quiet temper and strong nerve,
+and quick and sympathetic intellect, whose power over animals is so
+extraordinary, as to be attributed by the superstitious and uneducated
+to some hereditary secret, or some fairy gift.&nbsp; Very powerful to
+attract wild animals must have been the good hermits&rsquo; habit of
+sitting motionless for hours, till (as with St. Guthlac) the swallows
+sat and sang upon his knee; and of moving slowly and gently at his work,
+till (as with St. Karilef, while he pruned his vines) the robin came
+and built in his hood as it hung upon a tree: very powerful his freedom
+from anger, and, yet more important, from fear, which always calls out
+rage in wild beasts, while a calm and bold front awes them: and most
+powerful of all, the kindliness of heart, the love of companionship,
+which brought the wild bison to feed by St. Karilef&rsquo;s side as
+he prayed upon the lawn; and the hind to nourish St. Giles with her
+milk in the jungles of the Bouches du Rh&ocirc;ne.&nbsp; There was no
+miracle; save the moral miracle that, in ages of cruelty and slaughter,
+these men had learned (surely by the inspiration of God) how&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;He prayeth well who loveth well<br />Both man and bird and
+beast;<br />He prayeth best who loveth best<br />All things, both great
+and small;<br />For the dear God who loveth us,<br />He made and loveth
+all.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>After all, let these old Lives of the Fathers tell their own tale.&nbsp;
+By their own merits let them stand or fall; and stand they will in one
+sense: for whatsoever else they are not, this they are&mdash;the histories
+of good men.&nbsp; Their physical science and their d&aelig;monology
+may have been on a par with those of the world around them: but they
+possessed what the world did not possess, faith in the utterly good
+and self-sacrificing God, and an ideal of virtue and purity such as
+had never been seen since the first Whitsuntide.&nbsp; And they set
+themselves to realize that ideal with a simplicity, an energy, an endurance,
+which were altogether heroic.&nbsp; How far they were right in &ldquo;giving
+up the world&rdquo; depends entirely on what the world was then like,
+and whether there was any hope of reforming it.&nbsp; It was their opinion
+that there was no such hope; and those who know best the facts which
+surrounded them, its utter frivolity, its utter viciousness, the deadness
+which had fallen on art, science, philosophy, human life, whether family,
+social, or political; the prevalence of slavery, in forms altogether
+hideous and unmentionable; the insecurity of life and property, whether
+from military and fiscal tyranny, or from perpetual inroads of the so-called
+&ldquo;Barbarians:&rdquo; those, I say, who know these facts best will
+be most inclined to believe that the old hermits were wise in their
+generation; that the world was past salvation; that it was not a wise
+or humane thing to marry and bring children into the world; that in
+such a state of society, an honest and virtuous man could not exist,
+and that those who wished to remain honest and virtuous must flee into
+the desert, and be alone with God and their fellows.</p>
+<p>The question which had to be settled then and there, at that particular
+crisis of the human race, was not&mdash;Are certain wonders true or
+false? but&mdash;Is man a mere mortal animal, or an immortal soul?&nbsp;
+Is his flesh meant to serve his spirit, or his spirit his flesh?&nbsp;
+Is pleasure, or virtue, the end and aim of his existence?</p>
+<p>The hermits set themselves to answer that question, not by arguing
+or writing about it, but by the only way in which any question can be
+settled&mdash;by experiment.&nbsp; They resolved to try whether their
+immortal souls could not grow better and better, while their mortal
+bodies were utterly neglected; to make their flesh serve their spirit;
+to make virtue their only end and aim; and utterly to relinquish the
+very notion of pleasure.&nbsp; To do this one thing, and nothing else,
+they devoted their lives; and they succeeded.&nbsp; From their time
+it has been a received opinion, not merely among a few philosophers
+or a few Pharisees, but among the lowest, the poorest, the most ignorant,
+who have known aught of Christianity, that man is an immortal soul;
+that the spirit, and not the flesh, ought to be master and guide; that
+virtue is the highest good; and that purity is a virtue, impurity a
+sin.&nbsp; These men were, it has been well said, the very fathers of
+purity.&nbsp; And if, in that and in other matters, they pushed their
+purpose to an extreme&mdash;if, by devoting themselves utterly to it
+alone, they suffered, not merely in wideness of mind or in power of
+judging evidence, but even in brain, till they became some of them at
+times insane from over-wrought nerves&mdash;it is not for us to blame
+the soldier for the wounds which have crippled him, or the physician
+for the disease which he has caught himself while trying to heal others.&nbsp;
+Let us not speak ill of the bridge which carries us over, nor mock at
+those who did the work for us as seemed to them best, and perhaps in
+the only way in which it could be done in those evil days.&nbsp; As
+a matter of fact, through these men&rsquo;s teaching and example we
+have learnt what morality, purity, and Christianity we possess; and
+if any answer that we have learnt them from the Scriptures, who but
+these men preserved the Scriptures to us?&nbsp; Who taught us to look
+on them as sacred and inspired?&nbsp; Who taught us to apply them to
+our own daily lives, and find comfort and teaching in every age, in
+words written ages ago by another race in a foreign land?&nbsp; The
+Scriptures were the book, generally the only book, which they read and
+meditated, not merely from morn till night, but, as far as fainting
+nature would allow, from night to morn again: and their method of interpreting
+them (as far as I can discover) differed in nothing from that common
+to all Christians now, save that they interpreted literally certain
+precepts of our Lord and of St. Paul which we consider to have applied
+only to the &ldquo;temporary necessity&rdquo; of a decayed, dying, and
+hopeless age such as that in which they lived.&nbsp; And therefore,
+because they knew the Scripture well, and learned in it lessons of true
+virtue and true philosophy, though unable to save civilization in the
+East, they were able at least to save it in the West.&nbsp; The European
+hermits, and the monastic communities which they originated, were indeed
+a seed of life, not merely to the conquered Roman population of Gaul
+or Spain or Britain, but to the heathen and Arian barbarians who conquered
+them.&nbsp; Among those fierce and armed savages, the unarmed hermits
+stood, strong only by justice, purity, and faith in God, defying the
+oppressor, succouring the oppressed, and awing and softening the new
+aristocracy of the middle age, which was founded on mere brute force
+and pride of race; because the monk took his stand upon mere humanity;
+because he told the wild conqueror, Goth or Sueve, Frank or Burgund,
+Saxon or Norseman, that all men were equal in the sight of God; because
+he told them (to quote Athanasius&rsquo;s own words concerning Antony)
+that &ldquo;virtue is not beyond human nature;&rdquo; that the highest
+moral excellence was possible to the most low-born and unlettered peasant
+whom they trampled under their horses&rsquo; hoofs, if he were only
+renewed and sanctified by the Spirit of God.&nbsp; They accepted the
+lowest and commonest facts of that peasant&rsquo;s wretched life; they
+outdid him in helplessness, loneliness, hunger, dirt, and slavery; and
+then said, &ldquo;Among all these I can yet be a man of God, wise, virtuous,
+pure, free, and noble in the sight of God, though not in the sight of
+C&aelig;sars, counts, and knights.&rdquo;&nbsp; They went on, it is
+true, to glorify the means above the end; to consecrate childlessness,
+self-torture, dirt, ignorance, as if they were things pleasing to God
+and holy in themselves.&nbsp; But in spite of those errors they wrought
+throughout Europe a work which, as far as we can judge, could have been
+done in no other way; done only by men who gave up all that makes life
+worth having for the sake of being good themselves and making others
+good.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>THE HERMITS OF EUROPE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Most readers will recollect what an important part in the old ballads
+and romances is played by the hermit.</p>
+<p>He stands in strongest contrast to the knight.&nbsp; He fills up,
+as it were, by his gentleness and self-sacrifice, what is wanting in
+the manhood of the knight, the slave too often of his own fierceness
+and self-assertion.&nbsp; The hermit rebukes him when he sins, heals
+him when he is wounded, stays his hand in some mad murderous duel, such
+as was too common in days when any two armed horsemen meeting on road
+or lawn ran blindly at each other in the mere lust of fighting, as boars
+or stags might run.&nbsp; Sometimes he interferes to protect the oppressed
+serf; sometimes to rescue the hunted deer which has taken sanctuary
+at his feet.&nbsp; Sometimes, again, his influence is that of intellectual
+superiority; of worldly experience; of the travelled man who has seen
+many lands and many nations.&nbsp; Sometimes, again, that of sympathy;
+for he has been a knight himself, and fought and sinned, and drank of
+the cup of vanity and vexation of spirit, like the fierce warrior who
+kneels at his feet.</p>
+<p>All who have read (and all ought to have read) Spenser&rsquo;s Fairy
+Queen, must recollect his charming description of the hermit with whom
+Prince Arthur leaves Serena and the squire after they have been wounded
+by &ldquo;the blatant beast&rdquo; of Slander; when&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&ldquo;Toward night they came unto a plain<br />By
+which a little hermitage there lay<br />Far from all neighbourhood,
+the which annoy it may.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And nigh thereto a little chapel stood,<br />Which being all
+with ivy overspread<br />Decked all the roof, and shadowing the rood,<br />Seemed
+like a grove fair branch&egrave;d overhead;<br />Therein the hermit
+which his here led<br />In straight observance of religious vow,<br />Was
+wont his hours and holy things to bed;<br />And therein he likewise
+was praying now,<br />When as these knights arrived, they wist not where
+nor how.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They stayed not there, but straightway in did pass:<br />Who
+when the hermit present saw in place,<br />From his devotions straight
+he troubled was;<br />Which breaking off, he toward them did pace<br />With
+staid steps and grave beseeming grace:<br />For well it seemed that
+whilom he had been<br />Some goodly person, and of gentle race,<br />That
+could his good to all, and well did ween<br />How each to entertain
+with courtesy beseen.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He thence them led into his hermitage,<br />Letting their
+steeds to graze upon the green:<br />Small was his house, and like a
+little cage,<br />For his own term, yet inly neat and clean,<br />Decked
+with green boughs, and flowers gay beseen<br />Therein he them full
+fair did entertain,<br />Not with such forg&egrave;d shews, as fitter
+been<br />For courting fools that courtesies would feign,<br />But with
+entire affection and appearance plain.</p>
+<p>* * * * *</p>
+<p>How be that careful hermit did his best<br />With many kinds of medicines
+meet to tame<br />The poisonous humour that did most infest<br />Their
+reakling wounds, and every day them duly dressed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For he right well in leech&rsquo;s craft was seen;<br />And
+through the long experience of his days,<br />Which had in many fortunes
+toss&egrave;d been,<br />And passed through many perilous assays:<br />He
+knew the divers want of mortal ways,<br />And in the minds of men had
+great insight;<br />Which with sage counsel, when they went astray,<br />He
+could inform and them reduce aright;<br />And all the passions heal
+which wound the weaker sprite.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;For whilome he had been a doughty knight,<br />As any one
+that liv&egrave;d in his days,<br />And prov&egrave;d oft in many a
+perilous fight,<br />In which he grace and glory won always,<br />And
+in all battles bore away the bays:<br />But being now attached with
+timely age,<br />And weary of this world&rsquo;s unquiet ways,<br />He
+took himself unto this hermitage,<br />In which he lived alone like
+careless bird in cage.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>This picture is not poetry alone: it is history.&nbsp; Such men actually
+lived, and such work they actually did, from the southernmost point
+of Italy to the northernmost point of Scotland, during centuries in
+which there was no one else to do the work.&nbsp; The regular clergy
+could not have done it.&nbsp; Bishops and priests were entangled in
+the affairs of this world, striving to be statesmen, striving to be
+landowners, striving to pass Church lands on from father to son, and
+to establish themselves as an hereditary caste of priests.&nbsp; The
+chaplain or house-priest who was to be found in every nobleman&rsquo;s,
+almost every knight&rsquo;s castle, was apt to become a mere upper servant,
+who said mass every morning in return for the good cheer which he got
+every evening, and fetched and carried at the bidding of his master
+and mistress.&nbsp; But the hermit who dwelt alone in the forest glen,
+occupied, like an old Hebrew prophet, a superior and an independent
+position.&nbsp; He needed nought from any man save the scrap of land
+which the lord was only too glad to allow him in return for his counsels
+and his prayers.&nbsp; And to him, as to a mysterious and supernatural
+personage, the lord went privately for advice in his quarrels with the
+neighbouring barons, or with his own kin.&nbsp; To him the lady took
+her children when they were sick, to be healed, as she fancied, by his
+prayers and blessings; or poured into his ears a hundred secret sorrows
+and anxieties which she dare not tell to her fierce lord, who hunted
+and fought the livelong day, and drank too much liquor every night.</p>
+<p>This class of men sprang up rapidly, by natural causes, and yet by
+a Divine necessity, as soon as the Western Empire was conquered by the
+German tribes; and those two young officers whom we saw turning monks
+at Tr&ecirc;ves, in the time of St. Augustine, may, if they lived to
+be old men, have given sage counsel again and again to fierce German
+knights and kinglets, who had dispossessed the rich and effeminate landowners
+of their estates, and sold them, their wives, and children, in gangs
+by the side of their own slaves.&nbsp; Only the Roman who had turned
+monk would probably escape that fearful ruin; and he would remain behind,
+while the rest of his race was enslaved or swept away, as a seed of
+Christianity and of civilization, destined to grow and spread, and bring
+the wild conquerors in due time into the kingdom of God.</p>
+<p>For the first century or two after the invasion of the barbarians,
+the names of the hermits and saints are almost exclusively Latin.&nbsp;
+Their biographies represent them in almost every case as born of noble
+Roman parents.&nbsp; As time goes on, German names appear, and at last
+entirely supersede the Latin ones; showing that the conquering race
+had learned from the conquered to become hermits and monks like them.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Of all these saintly civilizers, St. Severinus of Vienna is perhaps
+the most interesting, and his story the most historically instructive.
+<a name="citation224"></a><a href="#footnote224">{224}</a></p>
+<p>A common time, the middle of the fifth century, the province of Noricum
+(Austria, as we should now call it) was the very highway of invading
+barbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom in which Huns, Alemanni,
+Rugi, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled up and down and round the
+starving and beleaguered towns of what had once been a happy and fertile
+province, each tribe striving to trample the other under foot, and to
+march southward over their corpses to plunder what was still left of
+the already plundered wealth of Italy and Rome.&nbsp; The difference
+of race, in tongue, and in manners, between the conquered and their
+conquerors, was made more painful by difference in creed.&nbsp; The
+conquering Germans and Huns were either Arians or heathens.&nbsp; The
+conquered race (though probably of very mixed blood), who called themselves
+Romans, because they spoke Latin and lived under the Roman law, were
+orthodox Catholics; and the miseries of religious persecution were too
+often added to the usual miseries of invasion.</p>
+<p>It was about the year 455-60.&nbsp; Attila, the great King of the
+Huns, who called himself&mdash;and who was&mdash;&ldquo;the Scourge
+of God,&rdquo; was just dead.&nbsp; His empire had broken up.&nbsp;
+The whole centre of Europe was in a state of anarchy and war; and the
+hapless Romans along the Danube were in the last extremity of terror,
+not knowing by what fresh invader their crops would be swept off up
+to the very gates of the walled towers which were their only defence:
+when there appeared among them, coming out of the East, a man of God.</p>
+<p>Who he was, he would not tell.&nbsp; His speech showed him to be
+an African Roman&mdash;a fellow-countryman of St. Augustine&mdash;probably
+from the neighbourhood of Carthage.&nbsp; He had certainly at one time
+gone to some desert in the East, zealous to learn &ldquo;the more perfect
+life.&rdquo;&nbsp; Severinus, he said, was his name; a name which indicated
+high rank, as did the manners and the scholarship of him who bore it.&nbsp;
+But more than his name he would not tell.&nbsp; &ldquo;If you take me
+for a runaway slave,&rdquo; he said, smiling, &ldquo;get ready money
+to redeem me with when my master demands me back.&rdquo;&nbsp; For he
+believed that they would have need of him; that God had sent him into
+that land that he might be of use to its wretched people.&nbsp; And
+certainly he could have come into the neighbourhood of Vienna at that
+moment for no other purpose than to do good, unless he came to deal
+in slaves.</p>
+<p>He settled first at a town called by his biographer Casturis; and,
+lodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the hermit life.&nbsp;
+Meanwhile the German tribes were prowling round the town; and Severinus,
+going one day into the church, began to warn the priests and clergy
+and all the people that a destruction was coming on them which they
+could only avert by prayer and fasting and the works of mercy.&nbsp;
+They laughed him to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman walls, which
+the invaders&mdash;wild horsemen, who had no military engines&mdash;were
+unable either to scale or batter down.&nbsp; Severinus left the town
+at once, prophesying, it was said, the very day and hour of its fall.&nbsp;
+He went on to the next town, which was then closely garrisoned by a
+barbarian force, and repeated his warning there: but while the people
+were listening to him, there came an old man to the gate, and told them
+how Casturis had been already sacked, as the man of God had foretold;
+and, going into the church, threw himself at the feet of St. Severinus,
+and said that he had been saved by his merits from being destroyed with
+his fellow-townsmen.</p>
+<p>Then the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and gave
+themselves up to fasting and almsgiving and prayer for three whole days.</p>
+<p>And on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening sacrifice
+was fulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the barbarians, seized
+with panic fear, and probably hating and dreading&mdash;like all those
+wild tribes&mdash;confinement between four stone walls instead of the
+free open life of the tent and the stockade, forced the Romans to open
+their gates to them, rushed out into the night, and in their madness
+slew each other.</p>
+<p>In those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and they,
+as their sole remedy, thought good to send for the man of God from the
+neighbouring town.&nbsp; He went, and preached to them, too, repentance
+and almsgiving.&nbsp; The rich, it seems, had hidden up their stores
+of corn, and left the poor to starve.&nbsp; At least St. Severinus discovered
+(by Divine revelation, it was supposed), that a widow named Procula
+had done as much.&nbsp; He called her out into the midst of the people,
+and asked her why she, a noble woman and free-born, had made herself
+a slave to avarice, which is idolatry.&nbsp; If she would not give her
+corn to Christ&rsquo;s poor, let her throw it into the Danube to feed
+the fish, for any gain from it she would not have.&nbsp; Procula was
+abashed, and served out her hoards thereupon willingly to the poor;
+and a little while afterwards, to the astonishment of all, vessels came
+down the Danube, laden with every kind of merchandise.&nbsp; They had
+been frozen up for many days near Passau, in the thick ice of the river
+Enns: but the prayers of God&rsquo;s servant (so men believed) had opened
+the ice-gates, and let them down the stream before the usual time.</p>
+<p>Then the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and carried
+off human beings and cattle, as many as they could find.&nbsp; Severinus,
+like some old Hebrew prophet, did not shrink from advising hard blows,
+where hard blows could avail.&nbsp; Mamertinus, the tribune, or officer
+in command, told him that he had so few soldiers, and those so ill-armed,
+that he dare not face the enemy.&nbsp; Severinus answered, that they
+should get weapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would fight
+for them, and they should hold their peace: only if they took any captives
+they should bring them safe to him.&nbsp; At the second milestone from
+the city they came upon the plunderers, who fled at once, leaving their
+arms behind.&nbsp; Thus was the prophecy of the man of God fulfilled.&nbsp;
+The Romans brought the captives back to him unharmed.&nbsp; He loosed
+their bonds, gave them food and drink, and let them go.&nbsp; But they
+were to tell their comrades that, if ever they came near that spot again,
+celestial vengeance would fall on them, for the God of the Christians
+fought from heaven in his servants&rsquo; cause.</p>
+<p>So the barbarians trembled, and went away.&nbsp; And the fear of
+St. Severinus fell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though they were;
+and on the Rugii, who held the north bank of the Danube in those evil
+days.&nbsp; St. Severinus, meanwhile, went out of Vienna, and built
+himself a cell at a place called &ldquo;At the Vineyards.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But some benevolent impulse&mdash;Divine revelation, his biographer
+calls it&mdash;prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a
+hill close to Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up, tenanted
+by his disciples.&nbsp; &ldquo;There,&rdquo; says his biographer, &ldquo;he
+longed to escape the crowds of men who were wont to come to him, and
+cling closer to God in continual prayer: but the more he longed to dwell
+in solitude, the more often he was warned by revelations not to deny
+his presence to the afflicted people.&rdquo;&nbsp; He fasted continually;
+he went barefoot even in the midst of winter, which was so severe, the
+story continues, in those days around Vienna, that wagons crossed the
+Danube on the solid ice: and yet, instead of being puffed-up by his
+own virtues, he set an example of humility to all, and bade them with
+tears to pray for him, that the Saviour&rsquo;s gifts to him might not
+heap condemnation on his head.</p>
+<p>Over the wild Rugii St. Severinus seems to have acquired unbounded
+influence.&nbsp; Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour out his sorrows
+to him, and tell him how the princes of the Goths would surely slay
+him; for when he had asked leave of him to pass on into Italy, he would
+not let him go.&nbsp; But St. Severinus prophesied to him that the Goths
+would do him no harm.&nbsp; Only one warning he must take: &ldquo;Let
+it not grieve him to ask peace even for the least of men.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king and
+the cultivated saint was carried on by his son Feva: but his &ldquo;deadly
+and noxious wife&rdquo; Gisa, who appears to have been a fierce Arian,
+always, says his biographer, kept him back from clemency.&nbsp; One
+story of Gisa&rsquo;s misdeeds is so characteristic both of the manners
+of the time and of the style in which the original biography is written,
+that I shall take leave to insert it at length.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the aforementioned
+Flaccitheus, following his father&rsquo;s devotion, began, at the commencement
+of his reign, often to visit the holy man.&nbsp; His deadly and noxious
+wife, named Gisa, always kept him back from the remedies of clemency.&nbsp;
+For she, among the other plague-spots of her iniquity, even tried to
+have certain Catholics re-baptized: but when her husband did not consent,
+on account of his reverence for St. Severinus, she gave up immediately
+her sacrilegious intention, burdening the Romans, nevertheless, with
+hard conditions, and commanding some of them to be exiled to the Danube.&nbsp;
+For when one day, she, having come to the village next to Vienna, had
+ordered some of them to be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the
+most menial offices of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged
+that they might be let go.&nbsp; But she, blazing up in a flame of fury,
+ordered the harshest of answers to be returned.&nbsp; &lsquo;I pray
+thee,&rsquo; she said, &lsquo;servant of God, hiding there within thy
+cell, allow us to settle what we choose about our own slaves.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+But the man of God hearing this, &lsquo;I trust,&rsquo; he said, &lsquo;in
+my Lord Jesus Christ, that she will be forced by necessity to fulfil
+that which in her wicked will she has despised.&rsquo;&nbsp; And forthwith
+a swift rebuke followed, and brought low the soul of the arrogant woman.&nbsp;
+For she had confined in close custody certain barbarian goldsmiths,
+that they might make regal ornaments.&nbsp; To them the son of the aforesaid
+king, Frederic by name, still a little boy, had gone in, in childish
+levity, on the very day on which the queen had despised the servant
+of God.&nbsp; The goldsmiths put a sword to the child&rsquo;s breast,
+saying, that if any one attempted to enter without giving them an oath
+that they should be protected, he should die; and that they would slay
+the king&rsquo;s child first, and themselves afterwards, seeing that
+they had no hope of life left, being worn out with long prison.&nbsp;
+When she heard that, the cruel and impious queen, rending her garments
+for grief, cried out, &lsquo;O servant of God, Severinus, are the injuries
+which I did thee thus avenged?&nbsp; Hast thou obtained by the earnest
+prayer thou hast poured out this punishment for my contempt, that thou
+shouldst avenge it on my own flesh and blood?&rsquo;&nbsp; Then, running
+up and down with manifold contrition and miserable lamentation, she
+confessed that for the act of contempt which she had committed against
+the servant of God she was struck by the vengeance of the present blow;
+and forthwith she sent knights to ask for forgiveness, and sent across
+the river the Romans his prayers for whom she had despised.&nbsp; The
+goldsmiths, having received immediately a promise of safety, and giving
+up the child, were in like manner let go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave boundless
+thanks to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of suppliants
+for this end, that as faith, hope, and charity grow, while lesser things
+are sought, He may concede greater things.&nbsp; Lastly, this did the
+mercy of the Omnipotent Saviour work, that while it brought to slavery
+a woman free, but cruel overmuch, she was forced to restore to liberty
+those who were enslaved.&nbsp; This having been marvellously gained,
+the queen hastened with her husband to the servant of God, and showed
+him her son, who, she confessed, had been freed from the verge of death
+by his prayers, and promised that she would never go against his commands.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>To this period of Severinus&rsquo;s life belongs the once famous
+story of his interview with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy,
+and brother of the great Onulph or Wolf, who was the founder of the
+family of the Guelphs, Counts of Altorf, and the direct ancestors of
+Victoria, Queen of England.&nbsp; Their father was &AElig;decon, secretary
+at one time of Attila, and chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who,
+though German, had clung faithfully to Attila&rsquo;s sons, and came
+to ruin at the great battle of Netad, when the empire of the Huns broke
+up once and for ever.&nbsp; Then Odoacer and his brother started over
+the Alps to seek their fortunes in Italy, and take service, after the
+fashion of young German adventurers, with the Romans; and they came
+to St. Severinus&rsquo;s cell, and went in, heathens as they probably
+were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and Odoacer had to stoop and
+to stand stooping, so huge he was.&nbsp; The saint saw that he was no
+common lad, and said, &ldquo;Go to Italy, clothed though thou be in
+ragged sheepskins: thou shalt soon give greater gifts to thy friends.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+So Odoacer went on into Italy, deposed the last of the C&aelig;sars,
+a paltry boy, Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his
+own astonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king of
+Italy; and, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered the
+prophecy of Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon he chose
+to ask.&nbsp; But all that the saint asked was, that he should forgive
+some Romans whom he had banished.&nbsp; St. Severinus meanwhile foresaw
+that Odoacer&rsquo;s kingdom would not last, as he seems to have foreseen
+many things, by no miraculous revelation, but simply as a far-sighted
+man of the world.&nbsp; For when certain German knights were boasting
+before him of the power and glory of Odoacer, he said that it would
+last some thirteen, or at most fourteen years; and the prophecy (so
+all men said in those days) came exactly true.</p>
+<p>There is no need to follow the details of St. Severinus&rsquo;s labours
+through some five-and-twenty years of perpetual self-sacrifice&mdash;and,
+as far as this world was concerned, perpetual disaster.&nbsp; Eugippius&rsquo;s
+chapters are little save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the other,
+from Passau to Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the war seemed
+to have concentrated themselves under St. Severinus&rsquo;s guardianship
+in the latter city.&nbsp; We find, too, tales of famine, of locust-swarms,
+of little victories over the barbarians, which do not arrest wholesale
+defeat: but we find through all St. Severinus labouring like a true
+man of God, conciliating the invading chiefs, redeeming captives, procuring
+for the cities which were still standing supplies of clothes for the
+fugitives, persuading the husbandmen, seemingly through large districts,
+to give even in time of dearth a tithe of their produce to the poor;&mdash;a
+tale of noble work which one regrets to see defaced by silly little
+prodigies, more important seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius
+than the great events which were passing round him.&nbsp; But this is
+a fault too common with monk chroniclers.&nbsp; The only historians
+of the early middle age, they have left us a miserably imperfect record
+of it, because they were looking always rather for the preternatural
+than for the natural.&nbsp; Many of the saints&rsquo; lives, as they
+have come down to us, are mere catalogues of wonders which never happened,
+from among which the antiquary must pick, out of passing hints and obscure
+allusions, the really important facts of the time,&mdash;changes political
+and social, geography, physical history, the manners, speech, and look
+of nations now extinct, and even the characters and passions of the
+actors in the story.&nbsp; How much can be found among such a list of
+wonders, by an antiquary who has not merely learning but intellectual
+insight, is proved by the admirable notes which Dr. Reeves has appended
+to Adamnan&rsquo;s life of St. Columba: but one feels, while studying
+his work, that, had Adamnan thought more of facts and less of prodigies,
+he might have saved Dr. Reeves the greater part of his labour, and preserved
+to us a mass of knowledge now lost for ever.</p>
+<p>And so with Eugippius&rsquo;s life of St. Severinus.&nbsp; The reader
+finds how the man who had secretly celebrated a heathen sacrifice was
+discovered by St. Severinus, because, while the tapers of the rest of
+the congregation were lighted miraculously from heaven, his taper alone
+would not light; and passes on impatiently, with regret that the biographer
+omits to mention what the heathen sacrifice was like.&nbsp; He reads
+how the Danube dared not rise above the mark of the cross which St.
+Severinus had cut upon the posts of a timber chapel; how a poor man,
+going out to drive the locusts off his little patch of corn instead
+of staying in the church all day to pray, found the next morning that
+his crop alone had been eaten, while all the fields around remained
+untouched.&nbsp; Even the well-known story, which has a certain awfulness
+about it, how St. Severinus watched all night by the bier of the dead
+priest Silvinus, and ere the morning dawned bade him in the name of
+God speak to his brethren; and how the dead man opened his eyes, and
+Severinus asked him whether he wished to return to life, and he answered
+complainingly, &ldquo;Keep me no longer here; nor cheat me of that perpetual
+rest which I had already found,&rdquo; and so, closing his eyes once
+more, was still for ever:&mdash;even such a story as this, were it true,
+would be of little value in comparison with the wisdom, faith, charity,
+sympathy, industry, utter self-sacrifice, which formed the true greatness
+of such a man as Severinus.</p>
+<p>At last the noble life wore itself out.&nbsp; For two years Severinus
+had foretold that his end was near; and foretold, too, that the people
+for whom he had spent himself should go forth in safety, as Israel out
+of Egypt, and find a refuge in some other Roman province, leaving behind
+them so utter a solitude, that the barbarians, in their search for the
+hidden treasures of the civilization which they had exterminated, should
+dig up the very graves of the dead.&nbsp; Only, when the Lord willed
+that people to deliver them, they must carry away his bones with them,
+as the children of Israel carried the bones of Joseph.</p>
+<p>Then Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king, and Gisa, his cruel
+wife; and when he had warned them how they must render an account to
+God for the people committed to their charge, he stretched his hand
+out to the bosom of the king.&nbsp; &ldquo;Gisa,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;dost
+thou love most the soul within that breast, or gold and silver?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+She answered that she loved her husband above all.&nbsp; &ldquo;Cease
+then,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to oppress the innocent: lest their affliction
+be the ruin of your power.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Severinus&rsquo; presage was strangely fulfilled.&nbsp; Feva had
+handed over the city of Vienna to his brother Frederic,&mdash;&ldquo;poor
+and impious,&rdquo; says Eugippius.&nbsp; Severinus, who knew him well,
+sent for him, and warned him that he himself was going to the Lord;
+and that if, after his death, Frederic dared touch aught of the substance
+of the poor and the captive, the wrath of God would fall on him.&nbsp;
+In vain the barbarian pretended indignant innocence; Severinus sent
+him away with fresh warnings.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then on the nones of January he was smitten slightly with
+a pain in the side.&nbsp; And when that had continued for three days,
+at midnight he bade the brethren come to him.&rdquo;&nbsp; He renewed
+his talk about the coming emigration, and entreated again that his bones
+might not be left behind; and having bidden all in turn come near and
+kiss him, and having received the sacrament of communion, he forbade
+them to weep for him, and commanded them to sing a psalm.&nbsp; They
+hesitated, weeping.&nbsp; He himself gave out the psalm, &ldquo;Praise
+the Lord in his saints, and let all that hath breath praise the Lord;&rdquo;
+and so went to rest in the Lord.</p>
+<p>No sooner was he dead than Frederic seized on the garments kept in
+the monastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded his men to
+carry off the vessels of the altar.&nbsp; Then followed a scene characteristic
+of the time.&nbsp; The steward sent to do the deed shrank from the crime
+of sacrilege.&nbsp; A knight, Anicianus by name, went in his stead,
+and took the vessels of the altar.&nbsp; But his conscience was too
+strong for him.&nbsp; Trembling and delirium fell on him, and he fled
+away to a lonely island, and became a hermit there.&nbsp; Frederic,
+impenitent, swept away all in the monastery, leaving nought but the
+bare walls, &ldquo;which he could not carry over the Danube.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But on him, too, vengeance fell.&nbsp; Within a month he was slain by
+his own nephew.&nbsp; Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii, and carried off
+Feva and Gisa captive to Rome.&nbsp; And then the long-promised emigration
+came.&nbsp; Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to
+establish a half-Roman kingdom in Italy), or for love of St. Severinus
+himself, sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the miserable
+remnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed among the wasted
+and unpeopled farms of Italy.&nbsp; And with them went forth the corpse
+of St. Severinus, undecayed, though he had been six years dead, and
+giving forth exceeding fragrance, though (says Eugippius) no embalmer&rsquo;s
+hand had touched it.&nbsp; In a coffin, which had been long prepared
+for it, it was laid on a wagon, and went over the Alps into Italy, working
+(according to Eugippius) the usual miracles on the way, till it found
+a resting-place near Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus at Misenum,
+to which Odoacer had sent the last Emperor of Rome to dream his ignoble
+life away in helpless luxury.</p>
+<p>So ends this tragic story.&nbsp; Of its substantial truth there can
+be no doubt.&nbsp; The miracles recorded in it are fewer and less strange
+than those of the average legends&mdash;as is usually the case when
+an eye-witness writes.&nbsp; And that Eugippius was an eye-witness of
+much which he tells, no one accustomed to judge of the authenticity
+of documents can doubt, if he studies the tale as it stands in Pez.
+<a name="citation238"></a><a href="#footnote238">{238}</a>&nbsp; As
+he studies, too, he will perhaps wish with me that some great dramatist
+may hereafter take Eugippius&rsquo;s quaint and rough legend, and shape
+it into immortal verse.&nbsp; For tragic, in the very nighest sense,
+the story is throughout.&nbsp; M. Ozanam has well said of that death-bed
+scene between the saint and the barbarian king and queen&mdash;&ldquo;The
+history of invasions has many a pathetic scene: but I know none more
+instructive than the dying agony of that old Roman expiring between
+two barbarians, and less touched with the ruin of the empire than with
+the peril of their souls.&rdquo;&nbsp; But even more instructive, and
+more tragic also, is the strange coincidence that the wonder-working
+corpse of the starved and barefooted hermit should rest beside the last
+Emperor of Rome.&nbsp; It is the symbol of a new era.&nbsp; The kings
+of this world have been judged and cast out.&nbsp; The empire of the
+flesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit to conquer thenceforth
+for evermore.</p>
+<p>But if St. Severinus&rsquo;s labours in Austria were in vain, there
+were other hermits, in Gaul and elsewhere, whose work endured and prospered,
+and developed to a size of which they had never dreamed.&nbsp; The stories
+of these good men may be read at length in the Bollandists and Surius:
+in a more accessible and more graceful form in M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s
+charming pages.&nbsp; I can only sketch, in a few words, the history
+of a few of the more famous.&nbsp; Pushing continually northward and
+westward from the shores of the Mediterranean, fresh hermits settled
+in the mountains and forests, collected disciples round them, and founded
+monasteries, which, during the sanguinary and savage era of the Merovingian
+kings, were the only retreats for learning, piety, and civilization.&nbsp;
+St. Martin (the young soldier who may be seen in old pictures cutting
+his cloak in two with a sword, to share it with a beggar) left, after
+twenty campaigns, the army into which he had been enrolled against his
+will, a conscript of fifteen years old, to become a hermit, monk, and
+missionary.&nbsp; In the desert isle of Gallinaria, near Genoa, he lived
+on roots, to train himself for the monastic life; and then went north-west,
+to Poitiers, to found Ligug&eacute; (said to be the most ancient monastery
+in France), to become Bishop of Tours, and to overthrow throughout his
+diocese, often at the risk of his life, the sacred oaks and Druid stones
+of the Gauls, and the temples and idols of the Romans.&nbsp; But he&mdash;like
+many more&mdash;longed for the peace of the hermit&rsquo;s cell; and
+near Tours, between the river Loire and lofty cliffs, he hid himself
+in a hut of branches, while his eighty disciples dwelt in caves of the
+rocks above, clothed only in skins of camels.&nbsp; He died in A.D.
+397, at the age of eighty-one, leaving behind him, not merely that famous
+monastery of Marmontier (Martini Monasterium), which endured till the
+Revolution of 1793, but, what is infinitely more to his glory, his solemn
+and indignant protest against the first persecution by the Catholic
+Church&mdash;the torture and execution of those unhappy Priscillianist
+fanatics, whom the Spanish Bishops (the spiritual forefathers of the
+Inquisition) had condemned in the name of the God of love.&nbsp; Martin
+wept over the fate of the Priscillianists.&nbsp; Happily he was no prophet,
+or his head would have become (like Jeremiah&rsquo;s) a fount of tears,
+could he have foreseen that the isolated atrocity of those Spanish Bishops
+would have become the example and the rule, legalized and formulized
+and commanded by Pope after Pope, for every country in Christendom.</p>
+<p>Sulpicius Severus, again (whose Lives of the Desert Fathers I have
+already quoted), carried the example of these fathers into his own estates
+in Aquitaine.&nbsp; Selling his lands, he dwelt among his now manumitted
+slaves, sleeping on straw, and feeding on the coarsest bread and herbs;
+till the hapless neophytes found that life was not so easily sustained
+in France as in Egypt; and complained to him that it was in vain to
+try &ldquo;to make them live like angels, when they were only Gauls.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Another centre of piety and civilization was the rocky isle of Lerins,
+off the port of Toulon.&nbsp; Covered with the ruins of an ancient Roman
+city, and swarming with serpents, it was colonized again, in A.D. 410,
+by a young man of rank named Honoratus, who gathered round him a crowd
+of disciples, converted the desert isle into a garden of flowers and
+herbs, and made the sea-girt sanctuary of Lerins one of the most important
+spots of the then world.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The West,&rdquo; says M. de Montalembert, &ldquo;had thenceforth
+nothing to envy the East; and soon that retreat, destined by its founder
+to renew on the shores of Provence the austerities of the Thebaid, became
+a celebrated school of Christian theology and philosophy, a citadel
+inaccessible to the waves of the barbarian invasion, an asylum for the
+letters and sciences which were fleeing from Italy, then overrun by
+the Goths; and, lastly, a nursery of bishops and saints, who spread
+through Gaul the knowledge of the Gospel and the glory of Lerins.&nbsp;
+We shall soon see the rays of his light flash even into Ireland and
+England, by the blessed hands of Patrick and Augustine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the year 425, Romanus, a young monk from the neighbourhood of
+Lyons, had gone up into the forests of the Jura, carrying with him the
+&ldquo;Lives of the Hermits,&rdquo; and a few seeds and tools; and had
+settled beneath an enormous pine; shut out from mankind by precipices,
+torrents, and the tangled trunks of prim&aelig;val trees, which had
+fallen and rotted on each other age after age.&nbsp; His brother Lupicinus
+joined him; then crowds of disciples; then his sister, and a multitude
+of women.&nbsp; The forests were cleared, the slopes planted; a manufacture
+of box-wood articles&mdash;chairs among the rest&mdash;was begun; and
+within the next fifty years the Abbey of Condat, or St. Claude, as it
+was afterwards called, had become, not merely an agricultural colony,
+or even merely a minster for the perpetual worship of God, but the first
+school of that part of Gaul; in which the works of Greek as well as
+Latin orators were taught, not only to the young monks, but to young
+laymen likewise.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile the volcanic peaks of the Auvergne were hiding from their
+Arian invaders the ruined gentry of Central France.&nbsp; Effeminate
+and luxurious slave-holders, as they are painted by Sidonius Appolineris,
+bishop of Clermont, in that same Auvergne, nothing was left for them
+when their wealth was gone but to become monks: and monks they became.&nbsp;
+The lava grottoes held hermits, who saw visions and d&aelig;mons, as
+St. Antony had seen them in Egypt; while near Tr&ecirc;ves, on the Moselle,
+a young hermit named Wolflaich tried to imitate St. Simeon Stylites&rsquo;
+penance on the pillar; till his bishop, foreseeing that in that severe
+climate he would only kill himself, wheedled him away from his station,
+pulled down the pillar in his absence, and bade him be a wiser man.&nbsp;
+Another figure, and a more interesting one, is the famous St. Goar;
+a Gaul, seemingly (from the recorded names of his parents) of noble
+Roman blood, who took his station on the Rhine, under the cliffs of
+that Lurlei so famous in legend and ballad as haunted by some fair fiend,
+whose treacherous song lured the boatmen into the whirlpool at their
+foot.&nbsp; To rescue the shipwrecked boatmen, to lodge, feed, and if
+need be clothe, the travellers along the Rhine bank, was St. Goar&rsquo;s
+especial work; and Wandelbert, the monk of Prum, in the Eifel, who wrote
+his life at considerable length, tells us how St. Goar was accused to
+the Archbishop of Tr&ecirc;ves as a hypocrite and a glutton, because
+he ate freely with his guests; and how his calumniators took him through
+the forest to Tr&ecirc;ves; and how he performed divers miracles, both
+on the road and in the palace of the Archbishop, notably the famous
+one of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.&nbsp;
+And other miracles of his there are, some of them not altogether edifying:
+but no reader is bound to believe them, as Wandelbert is evidently writing
+in the interests of the Abbey of Prum as against those of the Prince-Bishops
+of Tr&ecirc;ves; and with a monk&rsquo;s or regular&rsquo;s usual jealousy
+of the secular or parochial clergy and their bishops.</p>
+<p>A more important personage than any of these is the famous St. Benedict,
+father of the Benedictine order, and &ldquo;father of all monks,&rdquo;
+as he was afterwards called, who, beginning himself as a hermit, caused
+the hermit life to fall, not into disrepute, but into comparative disuse;
+while the c&oelig;nobitic life&mdash;that is, life, not in separate
+cells, but in corporate bodies, with common property, and under one
+common rule&mdash;was accepted as the general form of the religious
+life in the West.&nbsp; As the author of this organization, and of the
+Benedictine order, to whose learning, as well as to whose piety, the
+world has owed so much, his life belongs rather to a history of the
+monastic orders than to that of the early hermits.&nbsp; But it must
+be always remembered that it was as a hermit that his genius was trained;
+that in solitude he conceived his vast plans; in solitude he elaborated
+the really wise and noble rules of his, which he afterwards carried
+out as far as he could during his lifetime in the busy world; and which
+endured for centuries, a solid piece of practical good work.&nbsp; For
+the existence of monks was an admitted fact; even an admitted necessity:
+St. Benedict&rsquo;s work was to tell them, if they chose to be monks,
+what sort of persons they ought to be, and how they ought to live, in
+order to fulfil their own ideal.&nbsp; In the solitude of the hills
+of Subiaco, above the ruined palace of Nero, above, too, the town of
+Nurscia, of whose lords he was the last remaining scion, he fled to
+the mountain grotto, to live the outward life of a wild beast, and,
+as he conceived, the inward life of an angel.&nbsp; How he founded twelve
+monasteries; how he fled with some of his younger disciples, to withdraw
+them from the disgusting persecutions and temptations of the neighbouring
+secular clergy; how he settled himself on the still famous Monte Cassino,
+which looks down upon the Gulf of Gaeta, and founded there the &ldquo;Archi-Monasterium
+of Europe,&rdquo; whose abbot was in due time first premier baron of
+the kingdom of Naples,&mdash;which counted among its dependencies <a name="citation245"></a><a href="#footnote245">{245}</a>
+four bishoprics, two principalities, twenty earldoms, two hundred and
+fifty castles, four hundred and forty towns or villages, three hundred
+and thirty-six manors, twenty-three seaports, three isles, two hundred
+mills, three hundred territories, sixteen hundred and sixty-two churches,
+and at the end of the sixteenth century an annual revenue of 1,500,000
+ducats,&mdash;are matters which hardly belong to this volume, which
+deals merely with the lives of hermits.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>THE CELTIC HERMITS</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It is not necessary to enter into the vexed question whether any
+Christianity ever existed in these islands of an earlier and purer type
+than that which was professed and practised by the saintly disciples
+of St. Antony.&nbsp; It is at least certain that the earliest historic
+figures which emerge from the haze of barbarous antiquity in both the
+Britains and in Ireland, are those of hermits, who, in celibacy and
+poverty, gather round them disciples, found a convent, convert and baptize
+the heathen, and often, like Antony and Hilarion, escape from the bustle
+and toil of the world into their beloved desert.&nbsp; They work the
+same miracles, see the same visions, and live in the same intimacy with
+the wild animals, as the hermits of Egypt, or of Roman Gaul: but their
+history, owing to the wild imagination and (as the legends themselves
+prove) the gross barbarism of the tribes among whom they dwell, are
+so involved in fable and legend, that it is all but impossible to separate
+fact from fiction; all but impossible, often, to fix the time at which
+they lived.</p>
+<p>Their mode of life, it must always be remembered, is said to be copied
+from that of the Roman hermits of Gaul.&nbsp; St. Patrick, the apostle
+of Ireland, seems to have been of Roman or Roman British lineage.&nbsp;
+In his famous &ldquo;Confession&rdquo; (which many learned antiquaries
+consider as genuine) he calls his father, Calphurnius a deacon; his
+grandfather, Potitus a priest&mdash;both of these names being Roman.&nbsp;
+He is said to have visited, at some period of his life, the monastery
+of St. Martin at Tours; to have studied with St. Germanus at Auxerre;
+and to have gone to one of the islands of the Tuscan sea, probably Lerins
+itself; and, whether or not we believe the story that he was consecrated
+bishop by Pope Celestine at Rome, we can hardly doubt that he was a
+member of that great spiritual succession of ascetics who counted St.
+Antony as their father.</p>
+<p>Such another must that Palladius have been, who was sent, says Prosper
+of Aquitaine, by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish Scots, and who
+(according to another story) was cast on shore on the north-east coast
+of Scotland, founded the church of Fordun, in Kincardineshire, and became
+a great saint among the Pictish folk.</p>
+<p>Another prim&aelig;val figure, almost as shadowy as St. Patrick,
+is St. Ninian, a monk of North Wales, who (according to Bede) first
+attempted the conversion of the Southern Picts, and built himself, at
+Whithorn in Galloway, the Candida Casa, or White House, a little church
+of stone,&mdash;a wonder in those days of &ldquo;creel houses&rdquo;
+and wooden stockades.&nbsp; He too, according to Bede, who lived some
+250 years after his time, went to Rome; and he is said to have visited
+and corresponded with St. Martin of Tours.</p>
+<p>Dubricius, again, whom legend makes the contemporary both of St.
+Patrick and of King Arthur, appears in Wales, as bishop and abbot of
+Llandaff.&nbsp; He too is ordained by a Roman bishop, St. Germanus of
+Auxerre; and he too ends his career, according to tradition, as a hermit,
+while his disciples spread away into Armorica (Brittany) and Ireland.</p>
+<p>We need not, therefore, be surprised to find Ireland, Wales, Cornwall,
+Scotland, and Brittany, during the next three centuries, swarming with
+saints, who kept up, whether in company or alone, the old hermit-life
+of the Thebaid; or to find them wandering, whether on missionary work,
+or in search of solitude, or escaping, like St. Cadoc the Wise, from
+the Saxon invaders.&nbsp; Their frequent journeys to Rome, and even
+to Jerusalem, may perhaps be set down as a fable, invented in after
+years by monks who were anxious to prove their complete dependence on
+the Holy See, and their perfect communion with the older and more civilized
+Christianity of the Roman Empire.</p>
+<p>It is probable enough, also, that Romans from Gaul, as well as from
+Britain, often men of rank and education, who had fled before the invading
+Goths and Franks, and had devoted themselves (as we have seen that they
+often did) to the monastic life, should have escaped into those parts
+of these islands which had not already fallen into the hands of the
+Saxon invaders.&nbsp; Ireland, as the most remote situation, would be
+especially inviting to the fugitives; and we can thus understand the
+story which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus, how fifty monks, &ldquo;Romans
+born,&rdquo; sailed to Ireland to learn the Scriptures, and to lead
+a stricter life; and were distributed between St. Senan, St. Finnian,
+St. Brendan, St. Barry, and St. Kieran.&nbsp; By such immigrations as
+this, it may be, Ireland became&mdash;as she certainly was for a while&mdash;the
+refuge of what ecclesiastical civilization, learning, and art the barbarian
+invaders had spared; a sanctuary from whence, in after centuries, evangelists
+and teachers went forth once more, not only to Scotland and England,
+but to France and Germany.&nbsp; Very fantastic, and often very beautiful,
+are the stories of these men; and sometimes tragical enough, like that
+of the Welsh St. Iltut, cousin of the mythic Arthur, and founder of
+the great monastery of Bangor, on the banks of the Dee, which was said&mdash;though
+we are not bound to believe the fact&mdash;to have held more than two
+thousand monks at the time of the Saxon invasion.&nbsp; The wild warrior
+was converted, says this legend, by seeing the earth open and swallow
+up his comrades, who had extorted bread, beer, and a fat pig from St.
+Cadoc of Llancarvan, a princely hermit and abbot, who had persuaded
+his father and mother to embrace the hermit life as the regular, if
+not the only, way of saving their souls.&nbsp; In a paroxysm of terror
+he fled from his fair young wife into the forest; would not allow her
+to share with him even his hut of branches; and devoted himself to the
+labour of making an immense dyke of mud and stones to keep out the inundations
+of a neighbouring river.&nbsp; His poor wife went in search of him once
+more, and found him in the bottom of a dyke, no longer a gay knight,
+but poorly dressed, and covered with mud.&nbsp; She went away, and never
+saw him more; &ldquo;fearing to displease God and one so beloved by
+God.&rdquo;&nbsp; Iltut dwelt afterwards for four years in a cave, sleeping
+on the bare rock, and seems at last to have crossed over to Brittany,
+and died at Dol.</p>
+<p>We must not forget&mdash;though he is not strictly a hermit&mdash;St.
+David, the popular saint of the Welsh, son of a nephew of the mythic
+Arthur, and educated by one Paulinus, a disciple, it is said, of St.
+Germanus of Auxerre.&nbsp; He is at once monk and bishop: he gathers
+round him young monks in the wilderness, makes them till the ground,
+drawing the plough by their own strength, for he allows them not to
+own even an ox.&nbsp; He does battle against &ldquo;satraps&rdquo; and
+&ldquo;magicians&rdquo;&mdash;probably heathen chieftains and Druids;
+he goes to the Holy Land, and is made archbishop by the Patriarch of
+Jerusalem: he introduces, it would seem, into this island the right
+of sanctuary for criminals in any field consecrated to himself.&nbsp;
+He restores the church of Glastonbury over the tomb of his cousin, King
+Arthur, and dies at 100 years of age, &ldquo;the head of the whole British
+nation, and honour of his fatherland.&rdquo;&nbsp; He is buried in one
+of his own monasteries at St. David&rsquo;s, near the headland whence
+St. Patrick had seen, in a vision, all Ireland stretched out before
+him, waiting to be converted to Christ; and the Celtic people go on
+pilgrimage to his tomb, even from Brittany and Ireland: and, canonized
+in 1120, he becomes the patron saint of Wales.</p>
+<p>From that same point, in what year is not said, an old monk of St.
+David&rsquo;s monastery, named Modonnoc, set sail for Ireland, after
+a long life of labour and virtue.&nbsp; A swarm of bees settled upon
+the bow of his boat, and would not be driven away.&nbsp; He took them,
+whether he would or not, with him into Ireland, and introduced there,
+says the legend, the culture of bees and the use of honey.</p>
+<p>Ireland was then the &ldquo;Isle of Saints.&rdquo;&nbsp; Three orders
+of them were counted by later historians: the bishops (who seem not
+to have had necessarily territorial dioceses), with St. Patrick at their
+head, shining like the sun; the second, of priests, under St. Columba,
+shining like the moon; and the third, of bishops, priests, and hermits,
+under Colman and Aidan, shining like the stars.&nbsp; Their legends,
+full of Irish poetry and tenderness, and not without touches here and
+there of genuine Irish humour, lie buried now, to all save antiquaries,
+in the folios of the Bollandists and Colgan: but the memory of their
+virtue and beneficence, as well as of their miracles, shadowy and distorted
+by the lapse of centuries, is rooted in the heart and brain of the Irish
+peasantry; and who shall say altogether for evil?&nbsp; For with the
+tradition of their miracles has been entwined the tradition of their
+virtues, as an enduring heirloom for the whole Irish race, through the
+sad centuries which part the era of saints from the present time.&nbsp;
+We see the Irish women kneeling beside some well, whose waters were
+hallowed, ages since, by the fancied miracle of some mythic saint, and
+hanging gaudy rags (just as do the half savage Buddhists of the Himalayas)
+upon the bushes round.&nbsp; We see them upon holy days crawling on
+bare and bleeding knees around St. Patrick&rsquo;s cell, on the top
+of Croagh Patrick, the grandest mountain, perhaps, with the grandest
+outlook, in these British Isles, where stands still, I believe, an ancient
+wooden image, said to have belonged to St. Patrick himself; and where,
+too, hung till late years (it is now preserved in Dublin) an ancient
+bell; such a strange little oblong bell as the Irish saints carried
+with them to keep off d&aelig;mons; one of those magic bells which appear,
+so far as I am aware, in no country save Ireland and Scotland till we
+come to Tartary and the Buddhists: such a bell as came down from heaven
+to St. Senan: such a bell as St. Fursey sent flying through the air
+to greet St. Cuandy at his devotions when he could not come himself:
+such a bell as another saint, wandering in the woods, rang till a stag
+came out of the covert, and carried it for him on his horns.&nbsp; On
+that peak, so legends tell, St. Patrick stood once, in the spirit and
+power of Elias&mdash;after whom the mountain was long named; fasting,
+like Elias, forty days and forty nights, and wrestling with the d&aelig;mons
+of the storm, and the snakes of the fen, and the Peishta-More, the gigantic
+monster of the lakes, till he smote the evil things with the golden
+rod of Jesus, and they rolled over the cliff in hideous rout, and perished
+in the Atlantic far below.&nbsp; We know that these tales are but the
+dreams of children: but shall we sneer at the devotion of those poor
+Irish?&nbsp; Not if we remember (what is an undoubted fact) that the
+memory of these same saints has kept up in their minds an ideal of nobleness
+and purity, devotion and beneficence, which, down-trodden slaves as
+they have been, they would otherwise have inevitably lost; that it has
+helped to preserve them from mere brutality, and mere ferocity; and
+that the thought that these men were of their own race and their own
+kin has given them a pride in their own race, a sense of national unity
+and of national dignity, which has endured&mdash;and surely for their
+benefit, for reverence for ancestors and the self-respect which springs
+from it is a benefit to every human being&mdash;through all the miseries,
+deserved or undeserved, which have fallen upon the Irish since Pope
+Adrian IV. (the true author of all the woes of Ireland), in the year
+1155, commissioned Henry II. to conquer Ireland and destroy its prim&aelig;val
+Church, on consideration of receiving his share of the booty in the
+shape of Peter&rsquo;s Pence.</p>
+<p>Among these Irish saints, two names stand out as especially interesting:
+that of St. Brendan, and that of St. Columba&mdash;the former as the
+representative of the sailor monks of the early period, the other as
+the great missionary who, leaving his monastery at Durrow, in Ireland,
+for the famous island of Hy, Iona, or Icolumbkill, off the western point
+of Mull, became the apostle of Scotland and the north of England.&nbsp;
+I shall first speak of St. Brendan, and at some length.&nbsp; His name
+has become lately familiar to many, through the medium of two very beautiful
+poems, one by Mr. Matthew Arnold, and the other by Mr. Sebastian Evans;
+and it may interest those who have read their versions of the story
+to see the oldest form in which the story now exists.</p>
+<p>The Celts, it must be remembered, are not, in general, a sea-going
+folk.&nbsp; They have always neglected the rich fisheries of their coasts;
+and in Ireland every seaport owes its existence, not to the natives,
+but to Norse colonists.&nbsp; Even now, the Irishman or Western Highlander,
+who emigrates to escape the &ldquo;Saxons,&rdquo; sails in a ship built
+and manned by those very &ldquo;Saxons,&rdquo; to lands which the Saxons
+have discovered and civilized.&nbsp; But in the seventh and eighth centuries,
+and perhaps earlier, many Celts were voyagers and emigrants, not to
+discover new worlds, but to flee from the old one.&nbsp; There were
+deserts in the sea, as well as on land; in them they hoped to escape
+from men, and, yet more, from women.</p>
+<p>They went against their carnal will.&nbsp; They had no liking for
+the salt water.&nbsp; They were horribly frightened, and often wept
+bitterly, as they themselves confess.&nbsp; And they had reason for
+fear; for their vessels were, for the most part, only &ldquo;curachs&rdquo;
+(coracles) of wattled twigs, covered with tanned hides.&nbsp; They needed
+continual exhortation and comfort from the holy man who was their captain;
+and needed often miracles likewise for their preservation.&nbsp; Tempests
+had to be changed into calm, and contrary winds into fair ones, by the
+prayers of a saint; and the spirit of prophecy was needed, to predict
+that a whale would be met between Iona and Tiree, who appeared accordingly,
+to the extreme terror of St. Berach&rsquo;s crew, swimming with open
+jaws, and (intent on eating, not monks, but herrings) nearly upsetting
+them by the swell which he raised.&nbsp; And when St. Baithenius met
+the same whale on the same day, it was necessary for him to rise, and
+bless, with outspread hands, the sea and the whale, in order to make
+him sink again, after having risen to breathe.&nbsp; But they sailed
+forth, nevertheless, not knowing whither they went; true to their great
+principle, that the spirit must conquer the flesh: and so showed themselves
+actually braver men than the Norse pirates, who sailed afterwards over
+the same seas without fear, and without the need of miracles, and who
+found everywhere on desert islands, on sea-washed stacks and skerries,
+round Orkney, Shetland, and the Faro&euml;s, even to Iceland, the cells
+of these &ldquo;Papas&rdquo; or Popes; and named them after the old
+hermits, whose memory still lingers in the names of Papa Strona and
+Papa Westra, in the Orkneys, and in that of Papey, off the coast of
+Iceland, where the first Norse settlers found Irish books, bells, and
+crosiers, the relics of old hermits who had long since fasted and prayed
+their last, and migrated to the Lord.</p>
+<p>Adanman, in his life of St. Columba, tells of more than one such
+voyage.&nbsp; He tells how one Baitanus, with the saint&rsquo;s blessing,
+sailed forth to find &ldquo;a desert&rdquo; in the sea; and how when
+he was gone, the saint prophesied that he should be buried, not in a
+desert isle, but where a woman should drive sheep over his grave, the
+which came true in the oak-wood of Calgaich, now Londonderry, whither
+he came back again.&nbsp; He tells, again, of one Cormac, &ldquo;a knight
+of Christ,&rdquo; who three times sailed forth in a coracle to find
+some desert isle, and three times failed of his purpose; and how, in
+his last voyage, he was driven northward by the wind fourteen days&rsquo;
+sail, till he came where the summer sea was full of foul little stinging
+creatures, of the size of frogs, which beat against the sides of the
+frail boat, till all expected them to be stove in.&nbsp; They clung,
+moreover, to the oar blades; <a name="citation256"></a><a href="#footnote256">{256}</a>
+and Cormac was in some danger of never seeing land again, had not St.
+Columba, at home in Iona far away, seen him in a vision, him and his
+fellows, praying and &ldquo;watering their cheeks with floods of tears,&rdquo;
+in the midst of &ldquo;perturbations monstrous, horrific, never seen
+before, and almost unspeakable.&rdquo;&nbsp; Calling together his monks,
+he bade them pray for a north wind, which came accordingly, and blew
+Cormac safe back to Iona, to tempt the waves no more.&nbsp; &ldquo;Let
+the reader therefore perpend how great and what manner of man this same
+blessed personage was, who, having so great prophetic knowledge, could
+command, by invoking the name of Christ, the winds and ocean.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even as late as the year 891, says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: &ldquo;Three
+Scots came to King Alfred, in a boat without any oars, from Ireland,
+whence they had stolen away, because for the love of God they desired
+to be on pilgrimage, they recked not where.&nbsp; The boat in which
+they came was made of two hides and a half; and they took with them
+provisions for seven days; and about the seventh day they came on shore
+in Cornwall, and soon after went to King Alfred.&nbsp; Thus they were
+named, Dubslane, and Macbeth, and Maelinmun.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Out of such wild feats as these; out of dim reports of fairy islands
+in the west; of the Canaries and Azores; of that Vinland, with its wild
+corn and wild grapes which Leif, the son of Eirek Rauda, had found beyond
+the ocean a thousand years and one after the birth of Christ; of icebergs
+and floes sailing in the far northern sea, upon the edge of the six-months&rsquo;
+night; out of Edda stories of the Midgard snake, which is coiled round
+the world; out of reports, it may be, of Indian fakirs and Buddhist
+shamans; out of scraps of Greek and Arab myth, from the Odyssey or the
+Arabian Nights, brought home by &ldquo;Jorsala Farar,&rdquo; vikings
+who had been for pilgrimage and plunder up the Straits of Gibraltar
+into the far East;&mdash;out of all these materials were made up, as
+years rolled on, the famous legend of St. Brendan and his seven years&rsquo;
+voyage in search of the &ldquo;land promised to the saints.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This tale was so popular in the middle age, that it appears, in different
+shapes, in almost every early European language. <a name="citation257"></a><a href="#footnote257">{257}</a>&nbsp;
+It was not only the delight of monks, but it stirred up to wild voyages
+many a secular man in search of St. Brendan&rsquo;s Isle, &ldquo;which
+is not found when it is sought,&rdquo; but was said to be visible at
+times, from Palma in the Canaries.&nbsp; The myth must have been well
+known to Columbus, and may have helped to send him forth in search of
+&ldquo;Cathay.&rdquo;&nbsp; Thither (so the Spanish peasants believed)
+Don Roderic had retired from the Moorish invaders.&nbsp; There (so the
+Portuguese fancied) King Sebastian was hidden from men, after his reported
+death in the battle of Alcazar.&nbsp; The West Indies, when they were
+first seen, were surely St. Brendan&rsquo;s Isle: and the Mississippi
+may have been, in the eyes of such old adventurers as Don Ferdinando
+da Soto, when he sought for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, the very
+river which St. Brendan found parting in two the Land of Promise.&nbsp;
+From the year 1526 (says M. Jubinal), till as late as 1721, armaments
+went forth from time to time into the Atlantic, and went forth in vain.</p>
+<p>For the whole tale, from whatever dim reports of fact they may have
+sprung, is truly (as M. Jubinal calls it) a monkish Odyssey, and nothing
+more.&nbsp; It is a dream of the hermit&rsquo;s cell.&nbsp; No woman,
+no city, nor nation, are ever seen during the seven years&rsquo; voyage.&nbsp;
+Ideal monasteries and ideal hermits people the &ldquo;deserts of the
+ocean.&rdquo;&nbsp; All beings therein (save d&aelig;mons and Cyclops)
+are Christians, even to the very birds, and keep the festivals of the
+Church as eternal laws of nature.&nbsp; The voyage succeeds, not by
+seamanship, or geographic knowledge, nor even by chance: but by the
+miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he meets; and the
+wanderings of Ulysses, or of Sinbad, are rational and human in comparison
+with those of St. Brendan.</p>
+<p>Yet there are in them, as was to be expected, elements in which the
+Greek or the Arab legends are altogether deficient; perfect innocence,
+patience, and justice; utter faith in a God who prospers the innocent
+and punishes the guilty; ennobling obedience to the saint, who stands
+out a truly heroic figure above his trembling crew; and even more valuable
+still, the belief in, the craving for, an ideal, even though that ideal
+be that of a mere earthly Paradise; the &ldquo;divine discontent,&rdquo;
+as it has been well called, which is the root of all true progress;
+which leaves (thank God) no man at peace save him who has said, &ldquo;Let
+us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And therefore I have written at some length the story of St. Brendan;
+because, though it be but a monk-ideal, it is an ideal still: and therefore
+profitable for all who are not content with this world, and its paltry
+ways.</p>
+<p>Saint Brendan, we read, the son of Finnloga, and great grandson of
+Alta, son of Ogaman, of the race of Ciar son of Fergus, was born at
+Tralee, and founded, in 559, the Abbey of Clonfert, <a name="citation260a"></a><a href="#footnote260a">{260a}</a>
+and was a man famous for his great abstinence and virtues, and the father
+of nearly 3,000 monks. <a name="citation260b"></a><a href="#footnote260b">{260b}</a>&nbsp;
+And while he was &ldquo;in his warfare,&rdquo; there came to him one
+evening a holy hermit named &ldquo;Barintus,&rdquo; of the royal race
+of Neill; and when he was questioned, he did nought but cast himself
+on the ground, and weep and pray.&nbsp; And when St. Brendan asked him
+to make better cheer for him and his monks, he told him a strange tale.&nbsp;
+How a nephew of his had fled away to be a solitary, and found a delicious
+island, and established a monastery therein; and how he himself had
+gone to see his nephew, and sailed with him to the eastward to an island,
+which was called &ldquo;the land of promise of the saints,&rdquo; wide
+and grassy, and bearing all manner of fruits; wherein was no night,
+for the Lord Jesus Christ was the light thereof; and how they abode
+there for a long while without eating and drinking; and when they returned
+to his nephew&rsquo;s monastery, the brethren knew well where they had
+been, for the fragrance of Paradise lingered on their garments for nearly
+forty days.</p>
+<p>So Barintus told his story, and went back to his cell.&nbsp; But
+St. Brendan called together his most loving fellow-warriors, as he called
+them, and told them how he had set his heart on seeking that Promised
+Land.&nbsp; And he went up to the top of the hill in Kerry, which is
+still called Mount Brendan, with fourteen chosen monks; and there, at
+the utmost corner of the world, he built him a coracle of wattle, and
+covered it with hides tanned in oak-bark and softened with butter, and
+set up in it a mast and a sail, and took forty days&rsquo; provision,
+and commanded his monks to enter the boat, in the name of the Holy Trinity.&nbsp;
+And as he stood alone, praying on the shore, three more monks from his
+monastery came up, and fell at his feet, and begged to go too, or they
+would die in that place of hunger and thirst; for they were determined
+to wander with him all the days of their life.&nbsp; So he gave them
+leave.&nbsp; But two of them, he prophesied, would come to harm and
+to judgment.&nbsp; So they sailed away toward the summer solstice, with
+a fair wind, and had no need to row.&nbsp; But after twelve days the
+wind fell to a calm, and they had only light airs at night, till forty
+days were past, and all their victual spent.&nbsp; Then they saw toward
+the north a lofty island, walled round with cliffs, and went about it
+three days ere they could find a harbour.&nbsp; And when they landed,
+a dog came fawning on them, and they followed it up to a great hall
+with beds and seats, and water to wash their feet.&nbsp; But St. Brendan
+said, &ldquo;Beware, lest Satan bring you into temptation.&nbsp; For
+I see him busy with one of those three who followed us.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Now the hall was hung all round with vessels of divers metals, and bits
+and horns overlaid with silver.&nbsp; Then St. Brendan told his servant
+to bring the meal which God had prepared; and at once a table was laid
+with napkins, and loaves wondrous white, and fishes.&nbsp; Then they
+blessed God, and ate, and took likewise drink as much as they would,
+and lay down to sleep.&nbsp; Then St. Brendan saw the devil&rsquo;s
+work; namely, a little black boy holding a silver bit, and calling the
+brother aforementioned.&nbsp; So they rested three days and three nights.&nbsp;
+But when they went to the ship, St. Brendan charged them with theft,
+and told what was stolen, and who had stolen it.&nbsp; Then the brother
+cast out of his bosom a silver bit, and prayed for mercy.&nbsp; And
+when he was forgiven and raised up from the ground, behold, a little
+black boy flew out of his bosom, howling aloud, and crying, &ldquo;Why,
+O man of God, dost thou drive me from my habitation, where I have dwelt
+for seven years?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then the brother received the Holy Eucharist, and died straightway,
+and was buried in that isle, and the brethren saw the angels carry his
+soul aloft, for St. Brendan had told him that so it should be: but that
+the brother who came with him should have his sepulchre in hell.&nbsp;
+And as they went on board, a youth met them with a basket of loaves
+and a bottle of water, and told them that it would not fail till Pentecost.</p>
+<p>Then they sailed again many days, till they came to an isle full
+of great streams and fountains swarming with fish; and sheep there all
+white, as big as oxen, so many that they hid the face of the earth.&nbsp;
+And they stayed there till Easter Eve, and took one of the sheep (which
+followed them as if it had been tame) to eat for the Paschal feast.&nbsp;
+Then came a man with loaves baked in the ashes, and other victual, and
+fell down before St. Brendan and cried, &ldquo;How have I merited this,
+O pearl of God, that thou shouldest be fed at this holy tide from the
+labours of my hand?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And they learned from that man that the sheep grew there so big because
+they were never milked, nor pinched with winter, but they fed in those
+pastures all the year round.&nbsp; Moreover, he told them that they
+must keep Easter in an isle hard by, opposite a shore to the west, which
+some called the Paradise of Birds.</p>
+<p>So to the nearest island they sailed.&nbsp; It had no harbour, nor
+sandy shore, and there was no turf on it, and very little wood.&nbsp;
+Now the Saint knew what manner of isle it was, but he would not tell
+the brethren, lest they should be terrified.&nbsp; So he bade them make
+the boat fast stem and stern, and when morning came he bade those who
+were priests to celebrate each a mass, and then to take the lamb&rsquo;s
+fleece on shore and cook it in the caldron with salt, while St. Brendan
+remained in the boat.</p>
+<p>But when the fire blazed up, and the pot began to boil, that island
+began to move like water.&nbsp; Then the brethren ran to the boat imploring
+St. Brendan&rsquo;s aid; and he helped them each in by the hand, and
+cast off.&nbsp; After which the island sank in the ocean.&nbsp; And
+when they could see their fire burning more than two miles off, St.
+Brendan told them how that God had revealed to him that night the mystery;
+that this was no isle, but the biggest of all fishes which swam in the
+ocean, always it tries to make its head and its tail meet, but cannot,
+by reason of its length; and its name is Jasconius.</p>
+<p>Then, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, very grassy
+and wooded, and full of flowers.&nbsp; And they found a little stream,
+and towed the boat up it (for the stream was of the same width as the
+boat), with St. Brendan sitting on board, till they came to the fountain
+thereof.&nbsp; Then said the holy father, &ldquo;See, brethren, the
+Lord has given us a place wherein to celebrate his holy Resurrection.&nbsp;
+And if we had nought else, this fountain, I think, would serve for food
+as well as drink.&rdquo;&nbsp; For the fountain was too admirable.&nbsp;
+Over it was a huge tree of wonderful breadth, but no great height, covered
+with snow-white birds, so that its leaves and boughs could scarce be
+seen.</p>
+<p>And when the man of God saw that, he was so desirous to know the
+cause of that assemblage of birds, that he besought God upon his knees,
+with tears, saying, &ldquo;God, who knowest the unknown, and revealest
+the hidden, thou knowest the anxiety of my heart. . . .&nbsp; Deign
+of thy great mercy to reveal to me thy secret. . . .&nbsp; But not for
+the merit of my own dignity, but regarding thy clemency, do I presume
+to ask.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then one of those birds flew from off the tree, and his wings sounded
+like bells over the boat.&nbsp; And he sat on the prow, and spread his
+wings joyfully, and looked quietly on St. Brendan.&nbsp; And when the
+man of God questioned that bird, it told how they were of the spirits
+which fell in the great ruin of the old enemy; not by sin or by consent,
+but predestined by the piety of God to fall with those with whom they
+were created.&nbsp; But they suffered no punishment; only they could
+not, in part, behold the presence of God.&nbsp; They wandered about
+this world, like other spirits of the air, and firmament, and earth.&nbsp;
+But on holy days they took those shapes of birds, and praised their
+Creator in that place.</p>
+<p>Then the bird told him, how he and his monks had wandered one year
+already, and should wander for six more; and every year should celebrate
+their Easter in that place, and after find the Land of Promise; and
+so flew back to its tree.</p>
+<p>And when the eventide was come, the birds began all with one voice
+to sing, and clap their wings, crying, &ldquo;Thou, O God, art praised
+in Zion, and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And always they repeated that verse for an hour, and their melody and
+the clapping of their wings was like music which drew tears by its sweetness.</p>
+<p>And when the man of God wakened his monks at the third watch of the
+night with the verse, &ldquo;Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord,&rdquo;
+all the birds answered, &ldquo;Praise the Lord, all his angels; praise
+him, all his virtues.&rdquo;&nbsp; And when the dawn shone, they sang
+again, &ldquo;The splendour of the Lord God is over us;&rdquo; and at
+the third hour, &ldquo;Sing psalms to our God, sing; sing to our King,
+sing with wisdom.&rdquo;&nbsp; And at the sixth, &ldquo;The Lord hath
+lifted up the light of his countenance upon us, and had mercy on us.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And at the ninth, &ldquo;Behold how good and pleasant it is for brethren
+to dwell in unity.&rdquo;&nbsp; So day and night those birds gave praise
+to God.&nbsp; St. Brendan, therefore, seeing these things, gave thanks
+to God for all his marvels, and the brethren were refreshed with that
+spiritual food till the octave of Easter.</p>
+<p>After which, St. Brendan advised to take of the water of the fountain;
+for till then they had only used it to wash their feet and hands.&nbsp;
+But there came to him the same man who had been with them three days
+before Easter, and with his boat full of meat and drink, and said, &ldquo;My
+brothers, here you have enough to last till Pentecost: but do not drink
+of that fountain.&nbsp; For its nature is, that whosoever drinks will
+sleep for four-and-twenty hours.&rdquo;&nbsp; So they stayed till Pentecost,
+and rejoiced in the song of the birds.&nbsp; And after mass at Pentecost,
+the man brought them food again, and bade them take of the water of
+the fountain and depart.&nbsp; Then the birds came again, and sat upon
+the prow, and told them how they must, every year, celebrate Easter
+in the Isle of Birds, and Easter Eve upon the back of the fish Jasconius;
+and how, after eight months, they should come to the isle called Ailbey,
+and keep their Christmas there.</p>
+<p>After which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of sight
+of land, and only eating after every two or three days, till they came
+to an island, along which they sailed for forty days, and found no harbour.&nbsp;
+Then they wept and prayed, for they were almost worn out with weariness;
+and after they had fasted and prayed for three days, they saw a narrow
+harbour, and two fountains, one foul, one clear.&nbsp; But when the
+brethren hurried to draw water, St. Brendan (as he had done once before)
+forbade them, saying that they must take nought without leave from the
+elders who were in that isle.</p>
+<p>And of the wonders which they saw in that isle it were too long to
+tell: how there met them an exceeding old man, with snow-white hair,
+who fell at St. Brendan&rsquo;s feet three times, and led him in silence
+up to a monastery of four-and-twenty silent monks, who washed their
+feet, and fed them with bread and water, and roots of wonderful sweetness;
+and then at last, opening his mouth, told them how that bread was sent
+them perpetually, they knew not from whence; and how they had been there
+eighty years, since the times of St. Patrick, and how their father Ailbey
+and Christ had nourished them; and how they grew no older, nor ever
+fell sick, nor were overcome by cold or heat; and how brother never
+spoke to brother, but all things were done by signs; and how he led
+them to a square chapel, with three candles before the mid-altar, and
+two before each of the side altars; and how they, and the chalices and
+patens, and all the other vessels, were of crystal; and how the candles
+were lighted always by a fiery arrow, which came in through the window,
+and returned; and how St. Brendan kept his Christmas there, and then
+sailed away till Lent, and came to a fruitful island where he found
+fish; and how when certain brethren drank too much of the charmed water
+they slept, some three days, and some one; and how they sailed north,
+and then east, till they came back to the Isle of Sheep at Easter, and
+found on the shore their caldron, which they had lost on Jasconius&rsquo;s
+back; and how, sailing away, they were chased by a mighty fish which
+spouted foam, but was slain by another fish which spouted fire; and
+how they took enough of its flesh to last them three months; and how
+they came to an island flat as the sea, without trees, or aught that
+waved in the wind; and how on that island were three troops of monks
+(as the holy man had foretold), standing a stone&rsquo;s throw from
+each other: the first of boys, robed in snow-white; the second of young
+men, dressed in hyacinthine; the third of old men, in purple dalmatics,
+singing alternately their psalms, all day and night: and how when they
+stopped singing, a cloud of wondrous brightness overshadowed the isle;
+and how two of the young men, ere they sailed away, brought baskets
+of grapes, and asked that one of the monks (as had been prophesied)
+should remain with them, in the Isle of Strong Men; and how St. Brendan
+let him go, saying, &ldquo;In a good hour did thy mother conceive thee,
+because thou hast merited to dwell with such a congregation;&rdquo;
+and how those grapes were so big, that a pound of juice ran out of each
+of them, and an ounce thereof fed each brother for a whole day, and
+was as sweet as honey; and how a magnificent bird dropped into the ship
+the bough of an unknown tree, with a bunch of grapes thereon; and how
+they came to a land where the trees were all bowed down with vines,
+and their odour as the odour of a house full of pomegranates; and how
+they fed forty days on those grapes, and strange herbs and roots; and
+how they saw flying against them the bird which is called gryphon; and
+how that bird who had brought the bough tore out the gryphon&rsquo;s
+eyes, and slew him; and how they looked down into the clear sea, and
+saw all the fishes sailing round and round, head to tail, innumerable
+as flocks in the pastures, and were terrified, and would have had the
+man of God celebrate mass in silence, lest the fish should hear, and
+attack them; and how the man of God laughed at their folly; and how
+they came to a column of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy round
+it of the colour of silver, harder than marble, and sailed in through
+an opening, and found it all light within; <a name="citation269"></a><a href="#footnote269">{269}</a>
+and how they found in that hall a chalice of the same stuff as the canopy,
+and a paten of that of the column, and took them, that they might make
+many believe; and how they sailed out again, and past a treeless island,
+covered with slag and forges; and how a great hairy man, fiery and smutty,
+came down and shouted after them; and how when they made the sign of
+the Cross and sailed away, he and his fellows brought down huge lumps
+of burning slag in tongs, and hurled them after the ship; and how they
+went back, and blew their forges up, till the whole island flared, and
+the sea boiled, and the howling and stench followed them, even when
+they were out of sight of that evil isle; and how St. Brendan bade them
+strengthen themselves in faith and spiritual arms, for they were now
+on the confines of hell, therefore they must watch, and play the man.&nbsp;
+All this must needs be hastened over, that we may come to the famous
+legend of Judas Iscariot.</p>
+<p>They saw a great and high mountain toward the north, with smoke about
+its peak.&nbsp; And the wind blew them close under the cliffs, which
+were of immense height, so that they could hardly see their top, upright
+as walls, and black as coal. <a name="citation270"></a><a href="#footnote270">{270}</a>&nbsp;
+Then he who remained of the three brethren who had followed St. Brendan
+sprang out of the ship, and waded to the cliff foot, groaning, and crying,
+&ldquo;Woe to me, father, for I am carried away from you; and cannot
+turn back.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then the brethren backed the ship, and cried
+to the Lord for mercy.&nbsp; But the blessed Father Brendan saw how
+that wretch was carried off by a multitude of devils, and all on fire
+among them.&nbsp; Then a fair wind blew them away southward; and when
+they looked back they saw the peak of the isle uncovered, and flame
+spouting from it up to heaven, and sinking back again, till the whole
+mountain seemed one burning pile.</p>
+<p>After that terrible vision they sailed seven days to the south, till
+Father Brendan saw a dense cloud; when they neared it, a form as of
+a man sitting, and before him a veil, as big as a sack, hanging between
+two iron tongs, and rocking on the waves like a boat in a whirlwind.&nbsp;
+Which when the brethren saw some thought was a bird, and some a boat;
+but the man of God bade them give over arguing, and row thither.&nbsp;
+And when they got near, the waves were still, as if they had been frozen;
+and they found a man sitting on a rough and shapeless rock, and the
+waves beating over his head; and when they fell back, the bare rock
+appeared on which that wretch was sitting.&nbsp; And the cloth which
+hung before him the wind moved, and beat him with it on the eyes and
+brow.&nbsp; But when the blessed man asked him who he was, and how he
+had earned that doom, he said, &ldquo;I am that most wretched Judas,
+who made the worst of all bargains.&nbsp; But I hold not this place
+for any merit of my own, but for the ineffable mercy of Christ.&nbsp;
+I expect no place of repentance: but for the indulgence and mercy of
+the Redeemer of the world, and for the honour of His holy resurrection,
+I have this refreshment; for it is the Lord&rsquo;s-day now, and as
+I sit here I seem to myself in a paradise of delight, by reason of the
+pains which will be mine this evening; for when I am in my pains I burn
+day and night like lead melted in a pot.&nbsp; But in the midst of that
+mountain which you saw, is Leviathan with his satellites, and I was
+there when he swallowed your brother; and therefore the king of hell
+rejoiced, and sent forth huge flames, as he doth always when he devours
+the souls of the impious.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then he told them how he had
+his refreshings there every Lord&rsquo;s-day from even to even, and
+from Christmas to Epiphany, and from Easter to Pentecost, and from the
+Purification of the Blessed Virgin to her Assumption: but the rest of
+his time he was tormented with Herod and Pilate, Annas and Caiaphas;
+and so adjured them to intercede for him with the Lord that he might
+be there at least till sunrise in the morn.&nbsp; To whom the man of
+God said, &ldquo;The will of the Lord be done.&nbsp; Thou shalt not
+be carried off by the d&aelig;mons till to-morrow.&rdquo;&nbsp; Then
+he asked him of that clothing, and he told how he had given it to a
+leper when he was the Lord&rsquo;s chamberlain; &ldquo;but because it
+was no more mine than it was the Lord&rsquo;s and the other brethren&rsquo;s,
+therefore it is of no comfort to me, but rather a hurt.&nbsp; And these
+forks I gave to the priests to hang their caldrons on.&nbsp; And this
+stone on which I always sit I took off the road, and threw it into a
+ditch for a stepping-stone, before I was a disciple of the Lord.&rdquo;
+<a name="citation272"></a><a href="#footnote272">{272}</a></p>
+<p>But when the evening hour had covered the face of Thetis,&rdquo;
+behold a multitude of d&aelig;mons shouting in a ring, and bidding the
+man of God depart, for else they could not approach; and they dared
+not behold their prince&rsquo;s face unless they brought back their
+prey.&nbsp; But the man of God bade them depart.&nbsp; And in the morning
+an infinite multitude of devils covered the face of the abyss, and cursed
+the man of God for coming thither; for their prince had scourged them
+cruelly that night for not bringing back the captive.&nbsp; But the
+man of God returned their curses on their own heads, saying that &ldquo;cursed
+was he whom they blest, and blessed he whom they cursed;&rdquo; and
+when they threatened Judas with double torments because he had not come
+back, the man of God rebuked them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Art thou, then, Lord of all,&rdquo; they asked, &ldquo;that
+we should obey thee?&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;I am the servant,&rdquo; said
+he, &ldquo;of the Lord of all; and whatsoever I command in his name
+is done; and I have no ministry save what he concedes to me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So they blasphemed him till he left Judas, and then returned, and
+carried off that wretched soul with great rushing and howling.</p>
+<p>After which they saw a little isle; and the holy man told them that
+now seven years were nigh past; and that in that isle they should soon
+see a hermit, named Paul the Spiritual, who had lived for sixty years
+without any corporeal food, but for thirty years before that he had
+received food from a certain beast.</p>
+<p>The isle was very small, about a furlong round; a bare rock, so steep
+that they could find no landing-place.&nbsp; But at last they found
+a creek, into which they thrust the boat&rsquo;s bow, and then discovered
+a very difficult ascent.&nbsp; Up that the man of God climbed, bidding
+them wait for him, for they must not enter the isle without the hermit&rsquo;s
+leave; and when he came to the top he saw two caves, with their mouths
+opposite each other, and a very small round well before the cave mouth,
+whose waters, as fast as they ran out, were sucked in again by the rock.
+<a name="citation274"></a><a href="#footnote274">{274}</a>&nbsp; As
+he went to one entrance, the old man came out of the other, saying,
+&ldquo;Behold how good and pleasant it is, brethren, to dwell together
+in unity,&rdquo; and bade him call up the brethren from the boat; and
+when they came, he kissed them, and called them each by his name.&nbsp;
+Whereat they marvelled, not only at his spirit of prophecy, but also
+at his attire; for he was all covered with his locks and beard, and
+with the other hair of his body, down to his feet.&nbsp; His hair was
+white as snow for age, and none other covering had he.&nbsp; When St.
+Brendan saw that, he sighed again and again, and said within himself,
+&ldquo;Woe is me, sinner that I am, who wear a monk&rsquo;s habit, and
+have many monks under me, when I see a man of angelic dignity sitting
+in a cell, still in the flesh, and unhurt by the vices of the flesh.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+To whom the man of God answered, &ldquo;Venerable father, what great
+and many wonders God hath showed thee, which he hath manifested to none
+of the fathers, and thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not worthy
+to wear a monk&rsquo;s habit.&nbsp; I tell thee, father, that thou art
+greater than a monk; for a monk is fed and clothed by the work of his
+own hands: but God has fed and clothed thee and thy family for seven
+years with his secret things, while wretched I sit here on this rock
+like a bird, naked save the hair of my body.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then St. Brendan asked him how and whence he came thither; and he
+told how he was nourished in St. Patrick&rsquo;s monastery for fifty
+years, and took care of the cemetery; and how when the dean had bidden
+him dig a grave, an old man, whom he knew not, appeared to him, and
+forbade him, for that grave was another man&rsquo;s.&nbsp; And how he
+revealed to him that he was St. Patrick, his own abbot, who had died
+the day before, and bade him bury that brother elsewhere, and go down
+to the sea and find a boat, which would take him to the place where
+he should wait for the day of his death; and how he landed on that rock,
+and thrust the boat off with his foot, and it went swiftly back to its
+own land; and how, on the very first day, a beast came to him, walking
+on its hind paws, and between its fore paws a fish, and grass to make
+a fire, and laid them at his feet; and so every third day for twenty
+years; and every Lord&rsquo;s day a little water came out of the rock,
+so that he could drink and wash his hands; and how after thirty years
+he had found these caves and that fountain, and had fed for the last
+sixty years on nought but the water thereof.&nbsp; For all the years
+of his life were 150, and henceforth he awaited the day of his judgment
+in that his flesh.</p>
+<p>Then they took of that water, and received his blessing, and kissed
+each other in the peace of Christ, and sailed southward: but their food
+was the water from the isle of the man of God.&nbsp; Then (as Paul the
+Hermit had foretold) they came back on Easter Eve to the Isle of Sheep,
+and to him who used to give them victuals; and then went on to the fish
+Jasconius, and sang praises on his back all night, and mass at morn.&nbsp;
+After which the fish carried them on his back to the Paradise of Birds,
+and there they stayed till Pentecost.&nbsp; Then the man who always
+tended them, bade them fill their skins from the fountain, and he would
+lead them to the land promised to the saints.&nbsp; And all the birds
+wished them a prosperous voyage in God&rsquo;s name; and they sailed
+away, with forty days&rsquo; provision, the man being their guide, till
+after forty days they came at evening to a great darkness which lay
+round the Promised Land.&nbsp; But after they had sailed through it
+for an hour, a great light shone round them, and the boat stopped at
+a shore.&nbsp; And when they landed they saw a spacious land, full of
+trees bearing fruit as in autumn time.&nbsp; And they walked about that
+land for forty days, eating of the fruit and drinking of the fountains,
+and found no end thereof.&nbsp; And there was no night there, but the
+light shone like the light of the sun.&nbsp; At last they came to a
+great river, which they could not cross, so that they could not find
+out the extent of that land.&nbsp; And as they were pondering over this,
+a youth, with shining face and fair to look upon, met them, and kissed
+them with great joy, calling them each by his name, and said, &ldquo;Brethren,
+peace be with you, and with all that follow the peace of Christ.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And after that, &ldquo;Blessed are they who dwell in thy house, O Lord;
+they shall be for ever praising thee.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he told St. Brendan that that was the land which he had been
+seeking for seven years, and that he must now return to his own country,
+taking of the fruits of that land, and of its precious gems, as much
+as his ship could carry; for the days of his departure were at hand,
+when he should sleep in peace with his holy brethren.&nbsp; But after
+many days that land should be revealed to his successors, and should
+be a refuge for Christians in persecution.&nbsp; As for the river that
+they saw, it parted that island; and the light shone there for ever,
+because Christ was the light thereof.</p>
+<p>Then St. Brendan asked if that land would ever be revealed to men:
+and the youth answered, that when the most high Creator should have
+put all nations under his feet, then that land should be manifested
+to all his elect.</p>
+<p>After which St. Brendan, when the youth had blessed him, took of
+the fruits and of the gems, and sailed back through the darkness, and
+returned to his monastery; whom when the brethren saw, they glorified
+God for the miracles which he had heard and seen.&nbsp; After which
+he ended his life in peace.&nbsp; Amen.</p>
+<p>Here ends (says the French version) concerning St. Brendan, and the
+marvels which he found in the sea of Ireland.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ST. MALO</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Intermingled, fantastically and inconsistently, with the story of
+St. Brendan, is that of St. Maclovius or Machutus, who has given his
+name to the seaport of St. Malo, in Brittany.&nbsp; His life, written
+by Sigebert, a monk of Gembloux, about the year 1100, tells us how he
+was a Breton, who sailed with St. Brendan in search of the fairest of
+all islands, in which the citizens of heaven were said to dwell.&nbsp;
+With St. Brendan St. Malo celebrated Easter on the whale&rsquo;s back,
+and with St. Brendan he returned.&nbsp; But another old hagiographer,
+Johannes &agrave; Bosco, tells a different story, making St. Malo an
+Irishman brought up by St. Brendan, and preserved by his prayers from
+a wave of the sea.&nbsp; He gives, moreover, to the Isle of Paradise
+the name of Inga, and says that St. Brendan and his companions never
+reached it after all, but came home after sailing round the Orkneys
+and other Northern isles.&nbsp; The fact is, that the same saints reappear
+so often on both sides of the British and the Irish Channels, that we
+must take the existence of many of them as mere legend, which has been
+carried from land to land by monks in their migrations, and taken root
+upon each fresh soil which it has reached.&nbsp; One incident in St.
+Malo&rsquo;s voyage is so fantastic, and so grand likewise, that it
+must not be omitted.&nbsp; The monks come to an island whereon they
+find the barrow of some giant of old time.&nbsp; St. Malo, seized with
+pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the mound and raises the
+dead to life.&nbsp; Then follows a strange conversation between the
+giant and the saint.&nbsp; He was slain, he says, by his kinsmen, and
+ever since has been tormented in the other world.&nbsp; In that nether
+pit they know (he says) of the Holy Trinity: but that knowledge is rather
+harm than gain to them, because they did not choose to know it when
+alive on earth.&nbsp; Therefore he begs to be baptized, and so delivered
+from his pain.&nbsp; He is therefore instructed, catechised, and in
+due time baptized, and admitted to the Holy Communion.&nbsp; For fifteen
+days more he remains alive: and then, dying once more, is again placed
+in his sepulchre, and left in peace.</p>
+<p>From fragmentary recollections of such tales as these (it may be
+observed in passing) may have sprung the strange fancy of the modern
+Cornishmen, which identifies these very Celtic saints of their own race
+with the giants who, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, inhabited the
+land before Brutus and his Trojans founded the Arthuric dynasty.&nbsp;
+St. Just, for instance, who is one of the guardian saints of the Land&rsquo;s
+End, and St. Kevern, one of the guardian saints of the Lizard, are both
+giants; and Cornishmen a few years since would tell how St. Just came
+from his hermitage by Cape Cornwall to visit St. Kevern in his cave
+on the east side of Goonhilly Downs; and how they took the Holy Communion
+together; and how St. Just, tempted by the beauty of St. Kevern&rsquo;s
+paten and chalice, arose in the night and fled away with the holy vessels,
+wading first the Looe Pool, and then Mount&rsquo;s Bay itself; and how
+St. Kevern pursued him, and hurled after him three great boulders of
+porphyry, two of which lie on the slates and granites to this day; till
+St. Just, terrified at the might of his saintly brother, tossed the
+stolen vessels ashore opposite St. Michael&rsquo;s Mount, and, fleeing
+back to his own hermitage, never appeared again in the neighbourhood
+of St. Kevern.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; St. Malo, coming home with St. Brendan, craves
+for peace, and solitude, and the hermit&rsquo;s cell, and goes down
+to the sea-shore, to find a vessel which may carry him out once more
+into the infinite unknown.&nbsp; Then there comes by a boat with no
+one in it but a little boy, who takes him on board, and carries him
+to the isle of the hermit Aaron, near the town of Aletha, which men
+call St. Malo now; and then the little boy vanishes away, and St. Malo
+knows that he was Christ himself.&nbsp; There he lives with Aaron, till
+the Bretons of the neighbourhood make him their bishop.&nbsp; He converts
+the idolaters around, and performs the usual miracles of hermit saints.&nbsp;
+He changes water into wine, and restores to life not only a dead man,
+but a dead sow likewise, over whose motherless litter a wretched slave,
+who has by accident killed the sow with a stone, is weeping and wringing
+his hands in dread of his master&rsquo;s fury.&nbsp; While St. Malo
+is pruning vines, he lays his cape upon the ground, and a redbreast
+comes and lays an egg on it.&nbsp; He leaves it there, for the bird&rsquo;s
+sake, till the young are hatched, knowing, says his biographer, that
+without God the Father not a sparrow falls to the ground.&nbsp; Hailoch,
+the prince of Brittany, destroys his church, and is struck blind.&nbsp;
+Restored to sight by the saint, he bestows large lands on the Church.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;The impious generation,&rdquo; who, with their children after
+them, have lost their property by Hailoch&rsquo;s gift, rise against
+St. Malo.&nbsp; They steal his horses, and in mockery leave him only
+a mare.&nbsp; They beat his baker, tie his feet under the horse&rsquo;s
+body, and leave him on the sand to be drowned by the rising tide.&nbsp;
+The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, and the baker is saved.</p>
+<p>St. Malo, weary of the wicked Bretons, flees to Saintonge in Aquitaine,
+where he performs yet more miracles.&nbsp; Meanwhile, a dire famine
+falls on the Bretons, and a thousand horrible diseases.&nbsp; Penitent,
+they send for St. Malo, who delivers them and their flocks.&nbsp; But,
+at the command of an angel, he returns to Saintonge and dies there,
+and Saintonge has his relics, and the innumerable miracles which they
+work, even to the days of Sigebert, of Gembloux.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<h2>ST. COLUMBA</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The famous St. Columba cannot perhaps be numbered among the hermits:
+but as the spiritual father of many hermits, as well as many monks,
+and as one whose influence upon the Christianity of these islands is
+notorious and extensive, he must needs have some notice in these pages.&nbsp;
+Those who wish to study his life and works at length will of course
+read Dr. Reeves&rsquo;s invaluable edition of Adamnan.&nbsp; The more
+general reader will find all that he need know in Mr. Hill Burton&rsquo;s
+excellent &ldquo;History of Scotland,&rdquo; chapters vii. and viii.;
+and also in Mr. Maclear&rsquo;s &ldquo;History of Christian Missions
+during the Middle Ages&rdquo;&mdash;a book which should be in every
+Sunday library.</p>
+<p>St. Columba, like St. David and St. Cadoc of Wales, and like many
+great Irish saints, is a prince and a statesman as well as a monk.&nbsp;
+He is mixed up in quarrels between rival tribes.&nbsp; He is concerned,
+according to antiquaries, in three great battles, one of which sprang,
+according to some, from Columba&rsquo;s own misdeeds.&nbsp; He copies
+by stealth the Psalter of St. Finnian.&nbsp; St. Finnian demands the
+copy, saying it was his as much as the original.&nbsp; The matter is
+referred to King Dermod, who pronounces, in high court at Tara, the
+famous decision which has become a proverb in Ireland, that &ldquo;to
+every cow belongs her own calf.&rdquo; <a name="citation283"></a><a href="#footnote283">{283}</a>&nbsp;
+St. Columba, who does not seem at this time to have possessed the dove-like
+temper which his name, according to his disciples, indicates, threatens
+to avenge upon the king his unjust decision.&nbsp; The son of the king&rsquo;s
+steward and the son of the King of Connaught, a hostage at Dermod&rsquo;s
+court, are playing hurley on the green before Dermod&rsquo;s palace.&nbsp;
+The young prince strikes the other boy, kills him, and flies for protection
+to Columba.&nbsp; He is nevertheless dragged away, and slain upon the
+spot.&nbsp; Columba leaves the palace in a rage, goes to his native
+mountains of Donegal, and returns at the head of an army of northern
+and western Irish to fight the great battle of Cooldrevny in Sligo.&nbsp;
+But after a while public opinion turns against him; and at the Synod
+of Teltown, in Meath, it is proclaimed that Columba, the man of blood,
+shall quit Ireland, and win for Christ out of heathendom as many souls
+as have perished in that great fight.&nbsp; Then Columba, with twelve
+comrades, sails in a coracle for the coast of Argyleshire; and on the
+eve of Pentecost, A.D. 563, lands upon that island which, it may be,
+will be famous to all times as Iona, Hy, or Icolumkill,&mdash;Hy of
+Columb of the Cells.</p>
+<p>Thus had Columba, if the tale be true, undertaken a noble penance;
+and he performed it like a noble man.&nbsp; If, according to the fashion
+of those times, he bewailed his sins with tears, he was no morbid or
+selfish recluse, but a man of practical power, and of wide humanity.&nbsp;
+Like one of Homer&rsquo;s old heroes, St. Columba could turn his hand
+to every kind of work.&nbsp; He could turn the hand-mill, work on the
+farm, heal the sick, and command as a practised sailor the little fleet
+of coracles which lay hauled up on the strand of Iona, ready to carry
+him and his monks on their missionary voyages to the mainland or the
+isles.&nbsp; Tall, powerful, handsome, with a face which, as Adamnan
+said, made all who saw him glad, and a voice so stentorian that it could
+be heard at times a full mile off, and coming too of royal race, it
+is no wonder if he was regarded as a sort of demigod, not only by his
+own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs to whom he preached the Cross.&nbsp;
+We hear of him at Craig Phadrick, near Inverness; at Skye, at Tiree,
+and other islands; we hear of him receiving visits from his old monks
+of Derry and Durrow; returning to Ireland to decide between rival chiefs;
+and at last dying at the age of seventy-seven, kneeling before the altar
+in his little chapel of Iona&mdash;a death as beautiful as had been
+the last thirty-four years of his life; and leaving behind him disciples
+destined to spread the light of Christianity over the whole of Scotland
+and the northern parts of England.</p>
+<p>St. Columba, at one period or other of his life, is said to have
+visited a missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in Scotland as
+St. Kentigern, or more commonly St. Mungo, the patron saint of Glasgow.&nbsp;
+The two men, it is said (but the story belongs to the twelfth century,
+and can hardly be depended on), exchanged their crooked staves or crosiers
+in token of Christian brotherhood, and that which St. Columba is said
+to have given to St. Kentigern was preserved in Ripon Cathedral to the
+beginning of the fifteenth century.&nbsp; But who St. Kentigern was,
+or what he really did, is hard to say; for all his legends, like most
+of these early ones, are as tangled as a dream.&nbsp; He dies in the
+year 601: and yet he is the disciple of the famous St. Servanus or St.
+Serf, who lived in the times of St. Palladius and St. Patrick, 180 years
+before.&nbsp; This St. Serf is a hermit of the true old type; and even
+if his story be, as Dr. Reeves thinks, a fabrication throughout, it
+is at least a very early one, and true to the ideal which had originated
+with St. Antony.&nbsp; He is brought up in a monastery at Culross: he
+is tempted by the devil in a cave in the parish of Dysart (the Desert),
+in Fifeshire, which still retains that name.&nbsp; The d&aelig;mon,
+fleeing from him, enters an unfortunate man, who is forthwith plagued
+with a wolfish appetite.&nbsp; St. Serf cures him by putting his thumb
+into his mouth.&nbsp; A man is accused of stealing and eating a lamb,
+and denies the theft.&nbsp; St. Serf, however, makes the lamb bleat
+in the robber&rsquo;s stomach, and so substantiates the charge beyond
+all doubt.&nbsp; He works other wonders; among them the slaying of a
+great dragon in the place called &ldquo;Dunyne;&rdquo; sails for the
+Orkneys, and converts the people there; and vanishes thenceforth into
+the dream-land from which he sprung.</p>
+<p>Two great disciples he has, St. Ternan and St. Kentigern; mystery
+and miracle hang round the boyhood of the latter.&nbsp; His father is
+unknown.&nbsp; His mother is condemned to be cast from the rock of &ldquo;Dunpelder,&rdquo;
+but is saved and absolved by a miracle.&nbsp; Before the eyes of the
+astonished Picts, she floats gently down through the air, and arrives
+at the cliff foot unhurt.&nbsp; St. Kentigern is thenceforth believed
+to be virgin-born, and is reverenced as a miraculous being from his
+infancy.&nbsp; He goes to school to the mythic St. Serf, who calls him
+Mungo, or the Beloved; which name he bears in Glasgow until this day.&nbsp;
+His fellow-scholars envy his virtue and learning, and try to ruin him
+with their master.&nbsp; St. Serf has a pet robin, which is wont to
+sit and sing upon his shoulder.&nbsp; The boys pull off its head, and
+lay the blame upon Kentigern.&nbsp; The saint comes in wrathful, tawse
+in hand, and Kentigern is for the moment in serious danger; but, equal
+to the occasion then as afterwards, he puts the robin&rsquo;s head on
+again, sets it singing, and amply vindicates his innocence.&nbsp; To
+this day the robin figures in the arms of the good city of Glasgow,
+with the tree which St. Kentigern, when his enemies had put out his
+fire, brought in from the frozen forest and lighted with his breath,
+and the salmon in whose mouth a ring which had been cast into the Clyde
+had been found again by St. Kentigern&rsquo;s prophetic spirit.</p>
+<p>The envy of his fellow-scholars, however, is too much for St. Kentigern&rsquo;s
+peace of mind.&nbsp; He wanders away to the spot where Glasgow city
+now stands, lives in a rock hollowed out into a tomb, is ordained by
+an Irish bishop (according to a Celtic custom, of which antiquaries
+have written learnedly and dubiously likewise), and has ecclesiastical
+authority over all the Picts from the Frith of Forth to the Roman Wall.&nbsp;
+But all these stories, as I said before, are tangled as a dream; for
+the twelfth century monks, in their loyal devotion to the see of Rome,
+are apt to introduce again and again ecclesiastical customs which belonged
+to their own time, and try to represent these prim&aelig;val saints
+as regular and well-disciplined servants of the Pope.</p>
+<p>It may be remarked that St. Serf is said to have come into a &ldquo;dysart&rdquo;
+or desert.&nbsp; So did many monks of the school of St. Columba and
+his disciples, who wished for a severer and a more meditative life than
+could be found in the busy society of a convent.&nbsp; &ldquo;There
+was a &lsquo;disert,&rsquo;&rdquo; says Dr. Reeves, &ldquo;for such
+men to retire to, besides the monastery of Derry, and another at Iona
+itself, situate near the shore in the low ground, north of the Cathedral,
+as may be inferred from Portandisiart, the name of a little bay in this
+situation.&rdquo;&nbsp; A similar &ldquo;disert&rdquo; or collection
+of hermit cells was endowed at Cashel in 1101; and a &ldquo;disert columkill,&rdquo;
+with two townland mills and a vegetable garden, was endowed at Kells,
+at a somewhat earlier period, for the use of &ldquo;devout pilgrims,&rdquo;
+as those were called who left the society of men to worship God in solitude.</p>
+<p>The Venerable Bede speaks of as many as three personages, Saxons
+by their names, who in the Isle of Ireland led the &ldquo;Pilgrim&rdquo;
+or anchoritic life, to obtain a country in heaven; and tells of a Drycthelm
+of the monastery at Melrose, who went into a secret dwelling therein
+to give himself more utterly to prayer, and who used to stand for hours
+in the cold waters of the Tweed, as St. Godric did centuries afterwards
+in those of the Wear.&nbsp; Solitaries, &ldquo;recluses,&rdquo; are
+met with again and again in these old records, who more than once became
+Abbots of Iona itself.&nbsp; But there is no need to linger on over
+instances which are only quoted to show that some of the noblest spirits
+of the Celtic Church kept up wherever they could the hermit&rsquo;s
+ideal, the longing for solitude, for passive contemplation, for silence
+and perpetual prayer, which they had inherited from St. Antony and the
+Fathers of the Egyptian Desert.</p>
+<p>The same ideal was carried by them over the Border into England.&nbsp;
+Off its extreme northern coast, for instance, nearly half-way between
+Berwick and Bamborough Castle, lies, as travellers northward may have
+seen for themselves, the &ldquo;Holy Island,&rdquo; called in old times
+Lindisfarne.&nbsp; A monk&rsquo;s chapel on that island was the mother
+of all the churches between Tyne and Tweed, as well as of many between
+Tyne and Humber.&nbsp; The Northumbrians had been nominally converted,
+according to Bede, A.D. 627, under their King Edwin, by Paulinus, one
+of the Roman monks who had followed in the steps of St. Augustine, the
+apostle of Kent.&nbsp; Evil times had fallen on them.&nbsp; Penda, at
+the head of the idolatrous Mercians (the people of Mid-England), and
+Ceadwalla, at the head of the Western Britons, had ravaged the country
+north of Tweed with savage cruelty, slain King Edwin, at Hatfield, near
+Doncaster, and exterminated Christianity; while Paulinus had fled to
+Kent, and become Bishop of Rochester.&nbsp; The invaders had been driven
+out, seemingly by Oswald, who knew enough of Christianity to set up,
+ere he engaged the enemy, a cross of wood on the &ldquo;Heavenfield,&rdquo;
+near Hexham.&nbsp; That cross stood till the time of Bede, some 150
+years after; and had become, like Moses&rsquo; brazen serpent, an object
+of veneration.&nbsp; For if chips cut off from it were put into water,
+that water cured men or cattle of their diseases.</p>
+<p>Oswald, believing that it was through the mercy of him whom that
+cross symbolized he had conquered the Mercians and the Britons, would
+needs reconvert his people to the true faith.&nbsp; He had been in exile
+during Edwin&rsquo;s lifetime among the Scots, and had learned from
+them something of Christianity.&nbsp; So out of Iona a monk was sent
+to him, Aidan by name, to be a bishop over the Northumbrians; and he
+settled himself upon the isle of Lindisfarne, and began to convert it
+into another Iona.&nbsp; &ldquo;A man he was,&rdquo; says Bede, &ldquo;of
+singular sweetness, piety, and moderation; zealous in the cause of God,
+though not altogether according to knowledge, for he was wont to keep
+Easter after the fashion of his country;&rdquo; <i>i.e</i>. of the Picts
+and Northern Scots. . . . &ldquo;From that time forth many Scots came
+daily into Britain, and with great devotion preached the word to these
+provinces of the English over whom King Oswald reigned. . . .&nbsp;
+Churches were built, money and lands were given of the king&rsquo;s
+bounty to build monasteries; the English, great and small, were by their
+Scottish masters instructed in the rules and observance of regular discipline;
+for most of those who came to preach were monks.&rdquo; <a name="citation290"></a><a href="#footnote290">{290}</a></p>
+<p>So says the Venerable Bede, the monk of Jarrow, and the father (as
+he has been well called) of English history.&nbsp; He tells us too,
+how Aidan, wishing, it may be supposed, for greater solitude, went away
+and lived on the rocky isle of Farne, some two miles out at sea, off
+Bamborough Castle; and how, when he saw Penda and his Mercians, in a
+second invasion of Northumbria, trying to burn down the walls of Bamborough&mdash;which
+were probably mere stockades of timber&mdash;he cried to God, from off
+his rock, to &ldquo;behold the mischief:&rdquo; whereon the wind changed
+suddenly, and blew the flames back on the besiegers, discomfiting them,
+and saving the town.</p>
+<p>Bede tells us, too, how Aidan wandered, preaching from place to place,
+haunting King Oswald&rsquo;s court, but owning nothing of his own save
+his church, and a few fields about it; and how, when death came upon
+him, they set up a tent for him close by the wall at the west end of
+the church, so that it befell that he gave up the ghost leaning against
+a post, which stood outside to strengthen the wall.</p>
+<p>A few years after, Penda came again and burned the village, with
+the church; and yet neither could that fire, nor one which happened
+soon after, destroy that post.&nbsp; Wherefore the post was put inside
+the church, as a holy thing, and chips of it, like those of the Cross
+of Heaven Field, healed many folk of their distempers.</p>
+<p>. . . A tale at which we may look in two different humours.&nbsp;
+We may pass it by with a sneer, and a hypothesis (which will be probably
+true) that the post was of old heart-of-oak, which is burnt with extreme
+difficulty; or we may pause a moment in reverence before the noble figure
+of the good old man, ending a life of unselfish toil without a roof
+beneath which to lay his head; penniless and comfortless in this world:
+but sure of his reward in the world to come.</p>
+<p>A few years after Aidan&rsquo;s death another hermit betook him to
+the rocks of Farne, who rose to far higher glory; who became, in fact,
+the tutelar saint of the fierce Northern men; who was to them, up to
+the time even of the Tudor monarchs, what Pallas Athene was to Athens,
+or Diana to the Ephesians.&nbsp; St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s shrine, in Durham
+Cathedral (where his biographer Bede also lay in honour), was their
+rallying point, not merely for ecclesiastical jurisdiction or for miraculous
+cures, but for political movements.&nbsp; Above his shrine rose the
+noble pile of Durham.&nbsp; The bishop, who ruled in his name, was a
+Count Palatine, and an almost independent prince.&nbsp; His sacred banner
+went out to battle before the Northern levies, or drove back again and
+again the flames which consumed the wooden houses of Durham.&nbsp; His
+relics wrought innumerable miracles; and often he himself appeared with
+long countenance, ripened by abstinence, his head sprinkled with grey
+hairs, his casule of cloth of gold, his mitre of glittering crystal,
+his face brighter than the sun, his eyes mild as the stars of heaven,
+the gems upon his hand and robes rattling against his pastoral staff
+beset with pearls. <a name="citation292"></a><a href="#footnote292">{292}</a>&nbsp;
+Thus glorious the demigod of the Northern men appeared to his votaries,
+and steered with his pastoral staff, as with a rudder, the sinking ship
+in safety to Lindisfarne; received from the hands of St. Brendan, as
+from a saint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman, laden with fetters,
+whom he had delivered out of the dungeon of Brancepeth, and, smiting
+asunder the massive Norman walls, led him into the forest, and bade
+him flee to sanctuary in Durham, and be safe; or visited the little
+timber vine-clad chapel of Lixtune, on the Cheshire shore, to heal the
+sick who watched all night before his altar, or to forgive the lad who
+had robbed the nest which his sacred raven had built upon the roof,
+and, falling with the decayed timber, had broken his bones, and maimed
+his sacrilegious hand.</p>
+<p>Originally, says Bede, a monk at Melrose, and afterward abbot of
+the same place, he used to wander weeks together out of his monastery,
+seemingly into Ettrick and the Lammermuirs, and preach in such villages
+as &ldquo;being seated high up among craggy, uncouth mountains, were
+frightful to others even to look at, and whose poverty and barbarity
+rendered them inaccessible to other teachers.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;So
+skilful an orator was he, so fond of enforcing his subject, and such
+a brightness appeared in his angelic face, that no man presumed to conceal
+from him the most hidden secrets of their hearts, but all openly confessed
+what they had done.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So he laboured for many years, till his old abbot Eata, who had become
+bishop and abbot at Lindisfarne, sent for him thither, and made him
+prior of the monks for several years.&nbsp; But at last he longed, like
+so many before him, for solitude.&nbsp; He considered (so he said afterwards
+to the brethren) that the life of the disciplined and obedient monk
+was higher than that of the lonely and independent hermit: but yet he
+longed to be alone; longed, it may be, to recall at least upon some
+sea-girt rock thoughts which had come to him in those long wanderings
+on the heather moors, with no sound to distract him save the hum of
+the bee and the wail of the curlew; and so he went away to that same
+rock of Farne, where Aidan had taken refuge some ten or fifteen years
+before, and there, with the deep sea rolling at his feet and the gulls
+wailing about his head, he built himself one of those &ldquo;Picts&rsquo;
+Houses,&rdquo; the walls of which remain still in many parts of Scotland&mdash;a
+circular hut of turf and rough stone&mdash;and dug out the interior
+to a depth of some feet, and thatched it with sticks and grass; and
+made, it seems, two rooms within; one for an oratory, one for a dwelling-place:
+and so lived alone, and worshipped God.&nbsp; He grew his scanty crops
+of barley on the rock (men said, of course, by miracle): he had tried
+wheat, but, as was to be expected, it failed.&nbsp; He found (men said,
+of course, by miracle) a spring upon the rock.&nbsp; Now and then brethren
+came to visit him.&nbsp; And what did man need more, save a clear conscience
+and the presence of his Creator?&nbsp; Certainly not Cuthbert.&nbsp;
+When he asked the brethren to bring him a beam that he might prop up
+his cabin where the sea had eaten out the floor, and when they forgot
+the commission, the sea itself washed one up in the very cove where
+it was needed: when the choughs from the cliff stole his barley and
+the straw from the roof of his little hospice, he had only to reprove
+them, and they never offended again; on one occasion, indeed, they atoned
+for their offence by bringing him a lump of suet, wherewith he greased
+his shoes for many a day.&nbsp; We are not bound to believe this story;
+it is one of many which hang about the memory of St. Cuthbert, and which
+have sprung out of that love of the wild birds which may have grown
+up in the good man during his long wanderings through woods and over
+moors.&nbsp; He bequeathed (so it was believed) as a sacred legacy to
+the wild-fowl of the Farne islands, &ldquo;St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace;&rdquo;
+above all to the eider-ducks, which swarmed there in his days, but are
+now, alas! growing rarer and rarer, from the intrusion of vulgar sportsmen
+who never heard St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s name, or learnt from him to spare
+God&rsquo;s creatures when they need them not.&nbsp; On Farne, in Reginald&rsquo;s
+time, they bred under your very bed, got out of your way if you made
+a sign to them, let you take up them or their young ones, and nestled
+silently in your bosom, and croaked joyfully with fluttering wings when
+stroked.&nbsp; &ldquo;Not to nature, but to grace; not to hereditary
+tendency, but only to the piety and compassion of the blessed St. Cuthbert,&rdquo;
+says Reginald, &ldquo;is so great a miracle to be ascribed.&nbsp; For
+the Lord who made all things in heaven and earth has subjected them
+to the nod of his saints, and prostrated them under the feet of obedience.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Insufficient induction (the cause of endless mistakes, and therefore
+of endless follies and crimes) kept Reginald unaware of the now notorious
+fact that the female eider, during the breeding season, is just as tame,
+allowing for a little exaggeration, as St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s own ducks
+are, while the male eider is just as wild and wary as any other sea-bird:
+a mistake altogether excusable in one who had probably never seen or
+heard of eider-ducks in any other spot.&nbsp; It may be, nevertheless,
+that St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s special affection for the eider may have been
+called out by another strange and well-known fact about them of which
+Reginald oddly enough takes no note&mdash;namely, that they line their
+nests with down plucked from their own bosom; thus realizing the fable
+which has made the pelican for so many centuries the type of the Church.&nbsp;
+It is a question, indeed, whether the pelican, which is always represented
+in medi&aelig;val paintings and sculptures with a short bill, instead
+of the enormous bill and pouch which is the especial mark of the &ldquo;Onocrotalus&rdquo;
+of the ancients, now miscalled pelican, be not actually the eider-duck
+itself, confounded with the true <i>pelecanus</i>, which was the medi&aelig;val,
+and is still the scientific, name of the cormorant.&nbsp; Be that as
+it may, ill befell any one who dare touch one of St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s
+birds, as was proved in the case of Liveing, servant to &AElig;lric,
+who was a hermit in Farne after the time of St. Cuthbert.&nbsp; For
+he, tired it may be of barley and dried fish, killed and ate an eider-duck
+in his master&rsquo;s absence, scattering the bones and feathers over
+the cliffs.&nbsp; But when the hermit came back, what should he find
+but those same bones and feathers rolled into a lump and laid inside
+the door of the little chapel; the very sea, says Reginald, not having
+dared to swallow them up.&nbsp; Whereby the hapless Liveing being betrayed,
+was soundly flogged, and put on bread and water for many a day; the
+which story Liveing himself told to Reginald.</p>
+<p>Not only the eider, but all birds in Farne, were protected by St.
+Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace.&nbsp; Bartholomew, who was a famous hermit there
+in after years, had a tame bird, says the chronicler, who ate from his
+hand, and hopped about the table among him and his guests, till some
+thought it a miracle; and some, finding, no doubt, the rocks of Farne
+weary enough, derived continual amusement from the bird.&nbsp; But when
+he one day went off to another island, and left his bird to keep the
+house, a hawk came in and ate it up.&nbsp; Cuthbert, who could not save
+the bird, at least could punish the murderer.&nbsp; The hawk flew round
+and round the island, imprisoned, so it was thought, by some mysterious
+power, till, terrified and worn out, it flew into the chapel, and lay,
+cowering and half dead, in a corner by the altar.&nbsp; Bartholomew
+came back, found his bird&rsquo;s feathers, and the tired hawk.&nbsp;
+But even the hawk must profit by St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s peace.&nbsp; He
+took it up, carried it to the harbour, and there bade it depart in St.
+Cuthbert&rsquo;s name, whereon it flew off free, and was no more seen.&nbsp;
+Such tales as these may be explained, even to their most minute details,
+by simply natural causes: and yet, in this age of wanton destruction
+of wild birds, one is tempted at moments to wish for the return of some
+such graceful and humane superstition which could keep down, at least
+in the name of mercy and humanity, the needless cruelty of man.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; After St. Cuthbert, says Bede, had served God
+in the solitude of Farne for many years, the mound which encompassed
+his habitation being so high that he could see nothing from thence but
+heaven, to which he so ardently aspired, he was compelled by tears and
+entreaties&mdash;King Egfrid himself coming to the island, with bishops
+and religious and great men&mdash;to become himself bishop in Holy Island.&nbsp;
+There, as elsewhere, he did his duty.&nbsp; But after two years he went
+again to Farne, knowing that his end was near.&nbsp; For when, in his
+episcopal labours, he had gone across to Lugubalia&mdash;old Penrith,
+in Cumberland&mdash;there came across to him a holy hermit, Herebert
+by name, who dwelt upon an island in Derwentwater, and talked with him
+a long while on heavenly things; and Cuthbert bade him ask him then
+all the questions which he wished to have resolved, for they should
+see each other no more in this world.&nbsp; Herebert, who seems to have
+been one of his old friends, fell at Cuthbert&rsquo;s feet, and bade
+him remember that whenever he had done wrong he had submitted himself
+to him utterly, and always tried to live according to his rules; and
+all he wished for now was that, as they had served God together upon
+earth, they might depart for ever to see his bliss in heaven: the which
+befell; for a few months afterwards, that is, on the 20th of March,
+their souls quitted their mortal bodies on the same day, and they were
+re-united in spirit.</p>
+<p>St. Cuthbert wished to have been buried on his rock in Farne: but
+the brethren had persuaded him to allow his corpse to be removed to
+Holy Island.&nbsp; He begged them, said Bede, should they be forced
+to leave that place, to carry his bones along with them; and so they
+were forced to do at last; for in the year 875; whilst the Danes were
+struggling with Alfred in Wessex, an army of them, with Halfdene at
+their head, went up into Northumbria, burning towns, destroying churches,
+tossing children on their pike-points, and committing all those horrors
+which made the Norsemen terrible and infamous for so many years.&nbsp;
+Then the monks fled from the monastery, bearing the shrine of St. Cuthbert,
+and all their treasures, and followed by their retainers, men, women,
+and children, and their sheep and oxen: and behold! the hour of their
+flight was that of an exceedingly high spring tide.&nbsp; The Danes
+were landing from their ships in their rear; in their front was some
+two miles of sea.&nbsp; Escape seemed hopeless; when, says the legend,
+the water retreated before the holy relics as they advanced; and became,
+as to the children of Israel of old, a wall on their right hand and
+on their left; and so St. Cuthbert came safe to shore, and wandered
+in the woods, borne upon his servants&rsquo; shoulders, and dwelling
+in tents for seven years, and found rest at last in Durham, till at
+the Reformation his shrine, and that of the Venerable Bede, were robbed
+of their gold and jewels; and no trace of them (as far as I know) is
+left, save that huge slab, whereon is written the monkish rhyme:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Hic jacet in foss&acirc;<br />Bed&aelig; Venerabilis ossa. <a name="citation299"></a><a href="#footnote299">{299}</a></p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ST. GUTHLAC</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Hermits dwelling in the wilderness, as far as I am aware, were to
+be seen only in the northern and western parts of the island, where
+not only did the forest afford concealment, but the crags and caves
+shelter.&nbsp; The southern and eastern English seldom possess the vivid
+imagination of the Briton, the Northumbrian, and the Scot; while the
+rich lowlands of central, southern, and eastern England, well peopled
+and well tilled, offered few spots lonely enough for the hermit&rsquo;s
+cell.</p>
+<p>One district only was desolate enough to attract those who wished
+to be free from the world,&mdash;namely, the great fens north of Cambridge;
+and there, accordingly, as early as the seventh century, hermits settled
+in morasses now so utterly transformed that it is difficult to restore
+in one&rsquo;s imagination the original scenery.</p>
+<p>The fens in the seventh century were probably very like the forests
+at the mouth of the Mississippi, or the swampy shores of the Carolinas.&nbsp;
+Their vast plain is now, in summer, one sea of golden corn; in winter,
+a black dreary fallow, cut into squares by stagnant dykes, and broken
+only by unsightly pumping mills and doleful lines of poplar-trees.&nbsp;
+Of old it was a labyrinth of black wandering streams; broad lagoons;
+morasses submerged every spring-tide; vast beds of reed and sedge and
+fern; vast copses of willow, alder, and grey poplar, rooted in the floating
+peat, which was swallowing up slowly, all-devouring, yet all-preserving,
+the forests of fir and oak, ash and poplar, hazel and yew, which had
+once grown on that low, rank soil, sinking slowly (so geologists assure
+us) beneath the sea from age to age.&nbsp; Trees, torn down by flood
+and storm, floated and lodged in rafts, damming the waters back upon
+the land.&nbsp; Streams, bewildered in the flats, changed their channels,
+mingling silt and sand with the peat moss.&nbsp; Nature, left to herself,
+ran into wild riot and chaos more and more, till the whole fen became
+one &ldquo;Dismal Swamp,&rdquo; in which, at the time of the Norman
+Conquest, the &ldquo;Last of the English,&rdquo; like Dred in Mrs. Stowe&rsquo;s
+tale, took refuge from their tyrants, and lived, like him, a free and
+joyous life awhile.</p>
+<p>For there are islands in the sea which have escaped the destroying
+deluge of peat-moss,&mdash;outcrops of firm and fertile land, which
+in the early Middle Age were so many natural parks, covered with richest
+grass and stateliest trees, swarming with deer and roe, goat and boar,
+as the streams around swarmed with otter and beaver, and with fowl of
+every feather, and fish of every scale.</p>
+<p>Beautiful after their kind were those far isles in the eyes of the
+monks who were the first settlers in the wilderness.&nbsp; The author
+of the &ldquo;History of Ramsey&rdquo; grows enthusiastic, and somewhat
+bombastic also, as he describes the lovely isle, which got its name
+from the solitary ram who had wandered thither, either in extreme drought
+or over the winter ice, and, never able to return, was found feeding
+among the wild deer, fat beyond the wont of rams.&nbsp; He tells of
+the stately ashes, most of them cut in his time, to furnish mighty beams
+for the church roof; of the rich pastures painted with all gay flowers
+in spring; of the &ldquo;green crown&rdquo; of reed and alder which
+encircled the isle; of the fair wide mere (now drained) with its &ldquo;sandy
+beach&rdquo; along the forest side; &ldquo;a delight,&rdquo; he says,
+&ldquo;to all who look thereon.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In like humour William of Malmesbury, writing in the first half of
+the twelfth century, speaks of Thorney Abbey and its isle.&nbsp; &ldquo;It
+represents,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;a very paradise; for that in pleasure
+and delight it resembles heaven itself.&nbsp; These marshes abound in
+trees, whose length, without a knot, doth emulate the stars.&nbsp; The
+plain there is as level as the sea, alluring the eye with its green
+grass, and so smooth that there is nought to trip the foot of him who
+runs through it.&nbsp; Neither is there any waste place; for in some
+parts are apples, in others vines, which are either spread on the ground,
+or raised on poles.&nbsp; A mutual strife there is between Nature and
+Art; so that what one produces not the other supplies.&nbsp; What shall
+I say of those fair buildings, which &rsquo;tis so wonderful to see
+the ground among those fens upbear?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So wrote William of Malmesbury, after the industry and wisdom of
+the monks, for more than four centuries, had been at work to civilize
+and cultivate the wilderness.&nbsp; Yet even then there was another
+side to the picture; and Thorney, Ramsey, or Crowland would have seemed,
+for nine months every year, sad places enough to us comfortable folk
+of the nineteenth century.&nbsp; But men lived hard in those days, even
+the most high-born and luxurious nobles and ladies; under dark skies,
+in houses which we should think, from darkness, draught, and want of
+space, unfit for felons&rsquo; cells.&nbsp; Hardly they lived; and easily
+were they pleased; and thanked God for the least gleam of sunshine,
+the least patch of green, after the terrible and long winters of the
+Middle Ages.&nbsp; And ugly enough those winters must have been, what
+with snow and darkness, flood and ice, ague and rheumatism; while through
+the dreary winter&rsquo;s night the whistle of the wind and the wild
+cries of the waterfowl were translated into the howls of witches and
+d&aelig;mons; and (as in St. Guthlac&rsquo;s case), the delirious fancies
+of marsh fever made those fiends take hideous shapes before the inner
+eye, and act fantastic horrors round the fen-man&rsquo;s bed of sedge.</p>
+<p>Concerning this St. Guthlac full details remain, both in Latin and
+Anglo-Saxon; the author of the original document professing to be one
+Felix, a monk of Ramsey near by, who wrote possibly as early as the
+eighth century. <a name="citation303"></a><a href="#footnote303">{303}</a></p>
+<p>There we may read how the young warrior-noble Guthlac (&ldquo;The
+Battle-Play,&rdquo; the &ldquo;Sport of War&rdquo;), tired of slaying
+and sinning, bethought him to fulfil the prodigies seen at his birth;
+how he wandered into the fen, where one Tatwin (who after became a saint
+likewise) took him in his canoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost
+unknown, buried in reeds and alders, and how he found among the trees
+nought but an old &ldquo;law,&rdquo; as the Scots still call a mound,
+which men of old had broken into seeking for treasure, and a little
+pond; and how he built himself a hermit&rsquo;s cell thereon, and saw
+visions and wrought miracles; and how men came to him, as to a fakir
+or shaman of the East; notably one Beccel, who acted as his servant;
+and how as Beccel was shaving the saint one day there fell on him a
+great temptation: Why should he not cut St. Guthlac&rsquo;s throat,
+and instal himself in his cell, that he might have the honour and glory
+of sainthood?&nbsp; But St. Guthlac perceived the inward temptation
+(which is told with the naive honesty of those half-savage times), and
+rebuked the offender into confession, and all went well to the end.</p>
+<p>There we may read, too, a detailed account of the Fauna now happily
+extinct in the fens; of the creatures who used to hale St. Guthlac out
+of his hut, drag him through the bogs, carry him aloft through frost
+and fire&mdash;&ldquo;Develen and luther gostes&rdquo;&mdash;such as
+tormented in like wise St. Botolph (from whom Botulfston = Boston, has
+its name), and who were supposed to haunt the meres and fens, and to
+have an especial fondness for old heathen barrows with their fancied
+treasure-hoards: how they &ldquo;filled the house with their coming,
+and poured in on every side, from above, and from beneath, and everywhere.&nbsp;
+They were in countenance horrible, and they had great heads, and a long
+neck, and a lean visage; they were filthy and squalid in their beards,
+and they had rough ears, and crooked &lsquo;nebs,&rsquo; and fierce
+eyes, and foul mouths; and their teeth were like horses&rsquo; tusks;
+and their throats were filled with flame, and they were grating in their
+voice; they had crooked shanks, and knees big and great behind, and
+distorted toes, and cried hoarsely with their voices; and they came
+with immoderate noise and immense horror, that he thought that all between,
+heaven and earth resounded with their voices. . . .&nbsp; And they tugged
+and led him out of the cot, and led him to the swart fen, and threw
+and sunk him in the muddy waters.&nbsp; After that they brought him
+into the wild places of the wilderness, among the thick beds of brambles,
+that all his body was torn. . . .&nbsp; After that they took him and
+beat him with iron whips, and after that they brought him on their creaking
+wings between the cold regions of the air.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But there are gentler and more human touches in that old legend.&nbsp;
+You may read in it how all the wild birds of the fen came to St. Guthlac,
+and he fed them after their kind; how the ravens tormented him, stealing
+letters, gloves, and what not, from his visitors; and then, seized with
+compunction at his reproofs, brought them back, or hanged them on the
+reeds; and how, as Wilfrid, a holy visitant, was sitting with him, discoursing
+of the contemplative life, two swallows came flying in, and lifted up
+their song, sitting now on the saint&rsquo;s hand, now on his shoulder,
+now on his knee; and how, when Wilfrid wondered thereat, Guthlac made
+answer, &ldquo;Know you not that he who hath led his life according
+to God&rsquo;s will, to him the wild beasts and the wild birds draw
+the more near?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After fifteen years of such a life, in fever, ague, and starvation,
+no wonder if St. Guthlac died.&nbsp; They buried him in a leaden coffin
+(a grand and expensive luxury in the seventh century) which had been
+sent to him during his life by a Saxon princess; and then, over his
+sacred and wonder-working corpse, as over that of a Buddhist saint,
+there arose a chapel, with a community of monks, companies of pilgrims
+who came to worship, sick who came to be healed; till at last, founded
+on great piles driven into the bog, arose the lofty wooden Abbey of
+Crowland; in &ldquo;sanctuary of the four rivers,&rdquo; with its dykes,
+parks, vineyards, orchards, rich ploughlands, from which, in time of
+famine, the monks of Crowland fed all people of the neighbouring fens;
+with its tower with seven bells, which had not their like in England;
+its twelve altars rich with the gifts of Danish vikings and princes,
+and even with twelve white bear-skins, the gift of Canute&rsquo;s self;
+while all around were the cottages of the corrodiers, or folk who, for
+a corrody, or life pittance from the abbey, had given away their lands,
+to the wrong and detriment of their heirs.</p>
+<p>But within those four rivers, at least, were neither tyranny nor
+slavery.&nbsp; Those who took refuge in St Guthlac&rsquo;s place from
+cruel lords must keep his peace toward each other, and earn their living
+like honest men, safe while they so did: for between those four rivers
+St. Guthlac and his abbot were the only lords; and neither summoner,
+nor sheriff of the king, nor armed force of knight or earl, could enter&mdash;&ldquo;the
+inheritance of the Lord, the soil of St. Mary and St. Bartholomew, the
+most holy sanctuary of St. Guthlac and his monks; the minister free
+from worldly servitude; the special almshouse of most illustrious kings;
+the sole refuge of any one in worldly tribulation; the perpetual abode
+of the saints; the possession of religious men, specially set apart
+by the common council of the realm; by reason of the frequent miracles
+of the holy confessor St. Guthlac, an ever-fruitful mother of camphire
+in the vineyards of Engedi; and, by reason of the privileges granted
+by the kings, a city of grace and safety to all who repent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Does not all this sound like a voice from another planet?&nbsp; It
+is all gone; and it was good and right that it should go when it had
+done its work, and that the civilization of the fen should be taken
+up and carried out by men like the good knight, Richard of Rulos, who,
+two generations after the Conquest, marrying Hereward&rsquo;s grand-daughter,
+and becoming Lord of Deeping (the deep meadow), thought that he could
+do the same work from the hall of Bourne as the monks did from their
+cloisters; got permission from the Crowland monks, for twenty marks
+of silver, to drain as much as he could of the common marshes; and then
+shut out the Welland by strong dykes, built cottages, marked out gardens,
+and tilled fields, till &ldquo;out of slough and bogs accursed he made
+a garden of pleasure.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yet one lasting work those monks of Crowland seem to have done, besides
+those firm dykes and rich corn-lands of the Porsand, which endure unto
+this day.&nbsp; For within two generations of the Norman conquest, while
+the old wooden abbey, destroyed by fire, was being replaced by that
+noble pile of stone whose ruins are still standing, the French abbot
+of Crowland (so runs the legend) sent French monks to open a school
+under the new French donjon, in the little Roman town of Grante-brigge;
+whereby&mdash;so does all earnest work, however mistaken, grow and spread
+in this world, infinitely and for ever&mdash;St. Guthlac, by his canoe-voyage
+into Crowland Island, became the spiritual father of the University
+of Cambridge in the old world; and therefore of her noble daughter,
+the University of Cambridge, in the new world which fen-men sailing
+from Boston deeps colonized and Christianized 800 years after St. Guthlac&rsquo;s
+death.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>A personage quite as interesting, though not as famous, as Cuthbert
+or Guthlac, is St. Godric; the hermit around whose cell rose the Priory
+of Finchale.&nbsp; In a loop of the river Wear, near Durham, there settled
+in the days of Bishop Flambard, between 1099 and 1128, a man whose parentage
+and history was for many years unknown to the good folks of the neighbourhood.&nbsp;
+He had come, it seems, from a hermitage in Eskdale, in the parish of
+Whitby, whence he had been driven by the Percys, lords of the soil.&nbsp;
+He had gone to Durham, become the doorkeeper of St. Giles&rsquo;s church,
+and gradually learnt by heart (he was no scholar) the whole Psalter.&nbsp;
+Then he had gone to St. Mary&rsquo;s church, where (as was the fashion
+of the times) there was a children&rsquo;s school; and, listening to
+the little ones at their lessons, picked up such hymns and prayers as
+he thought would suffice his spiritual wants.&nbsp; And then, by leave
+of the bishop, he had gone away into the woods, and devoted himself
+to the solitary life in Finchale.&nbsp; Buried in the woods and crags
+of the &ldquo;Royal Park,&rdquo; as it was then called, which swarmed
+with every kind of game, there was a little flat meadow, rough with
+sweet-gale and bramble and willow, beside a teeming salmon-pool.&nbsp;
+Great wolves haunted the woods; but Godric cared nought for them; and
+the shingles swarmed with snakes,&mdash;probably only the harmless collared
+snakes of wet meadows, but reputed, as all snakes are by the vulgar,
+venomous: but he did not object to become &ldquo;the companion of serpents
+and poisonous asps.&rdquo;&nbsp; He handled them, caressed them, let
+them lie by the fire in swarms on winter nights, in the little cave
+which he had hollowed in the ground and thatched with turf.&nbsp; Men
+told soon how the snakes obeyed him; how two especially huge ones used
+to lie twined about his legs; till after many years, annoyed by their
+importunity, he turned them all gently out of doors, with solemn adjurations
+never to return, and they, of course, obeyed.</p>
+<p>His austerities knew no bounds.&nbsp; He lived on roots and berries,
+flowers and leaves; and when the good folk found him out, and put gifts
+of food near his cell, he carried them up to the crags above, and, offering
+them solemnly up to the God who feeds the ravens when they call on him,
+left them there for the wild birds.&nbsp; He watched, fasted, and scourged
+himself, and wore always a hair shirt and an iron cuirass.&nbsp; He
+sat, night after night, even in mid-winter, in the cold Wear, the waters
+of which had hollowed out a rock near by into a natural bath, and afterwards
+in a barrel sunk in the floor of a little chapel of wattle, which he
+built and dedicated to the blessed Virgin Mary.&nbsp; He tilled a scrap
+of ground, and ate the grain from it, mingled with ashes.&nbsp; He kept
+his food till it was decayed before he tasted it; and led a life the
+records of which fill the reader with astonishment, not only at the
+man&rsquo;s iron strength of will, but at the iron strength of the constitution
+which could support such hardships, in such a climate, for a single
+year.</p>
+<p>A strong and healthy man must Godric have been, to judge from the
+accounts (there are two, both written by eye-witnesses) of his personal
+appearance&mdash;a man of great breadth of chest and strength of arm;
+black-haired, hook-nosed, deep-browed, with flashing grey eyes; altogether
+a personable and able man, who might have done much work and made his
+way in many lands.&nbsp; But what his former life had been he would
+not tell.&nbsp; Mother-wit he had in plenty, and showed insight into
+men and things which the monks of Durham were ready enough to call the
+spirit of prophecy.&nbsp; After awhile it was whispered that he wrought
+miraculous cures: that even a bit of the bread which he was wont to
+eat had healed a sick woman; that he fought with d&aelig;mons in visible
+shape; that he had seen (just as one of the old Egyptian hermits had
+seen) a little black boy running about between two monks who had quarrelled
+and come to hard blows and bleeding faces because one of them had made
+mistakes in the evening service: and, in short, there were attributed
+to him, during his lifetime, and by those who knew him well, a host
+of wonders which would be startling and important were they not exactly
+the same as those which appear in the life of every hermit since St.
+Antony.&nbsp; It is impossible to read the pages of Reginald of Durham
+(for he, the biographer of St. Cuthbert, is also the biographer of St.
+Godric) without feeling how difficult it is to obtain anything like
+the truth, even from eye-witnesses, if only men are (as they were in
+those days) in a state of religious excitement, at a period of spiritual
+revivals.&nbsp; The ignorant populace were ready to believe, and to
+report, anything of the Fakeer of Finchale.&nbsp; The monks of Durham
+were glad enough to have a wonder-working man belonging to them; for
+Ralph Flambard, in honour of Godric, had made over to them the hermitage
+of Finchale, with its fields and fisheries.&nbsp; The lad who, in after
+years, waited on the hermit, would have been ready enough to testify
+that his master saw d&aelig;mons and other spiritual beings; for he
+began to see them on his own account; <a name="citation312"></a><a href="#footnote312">{312}</a>
+fell asleep in the forest coming home from Durham with some bottles;
+was led in a vision by St. John the Baptist to the top of a hill, and
+shown by him wonders unspeakable; saw, on another occasion, a d&aelig;mon
+in St. Godric&rsquo;s cell, hung all over with bottles of different
+liquors, offering them to the saint, who bade the lad drive him out
+of the little chapel, with a holy water sprinkle, but not go outside
+it himself.&nbsp; But the lad, in the fury of successful pursuit, overstepped
+the threshold; whereon the d&aelig;mon, turning in self-defence, threw
+a single drop of one of his liquors into the lad&rsquo;s mouth, and
+vanished with a laugh of scorn.&nbsp; The boy&rsquo;s face and throat
+swelled horribly for three days; and he took care thenceforth to obey
+the holy man more strictly: a story which I have repeated, like the
+one before it, only to show the real worth of the evidence on which
+Reginald has composed his book.&nbsp; Ailred, Abbot of Rievaux (for
+Reginald&rsquo;s book, though dedicated to Hugh Pudsey, his bishop,
+was prompted by Ailred) was capable (as his horrible story of the nun
+of Watton proves) of believing anything and everything which fell in
+with his fanatical, though pious and gentle, temper.</p>
+<p>And here a few words must be said to persons with whose difficulties
+I deeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions I differ utterly: those,
+namely, who say that if we reject the miracles of these saints&rsquo;
+lives, we must reject also the miracles of the New Testament.&nbsp;
+The answer is, as I believe, that the Apostles and Evangelists were
+sane men: men in their right minds, wise, calm; conducting themselves
+(save in the matter of committing sins) like other human beings, as
+befitted the disciples of that Son of Man who came eating and drinking,
+and was therefore called by the ascetics of his time a gluttonous man,
+and a wine-bibber: whereas these monks were not (as I have said elsewhere)
+in their right minds at all.</p>
+<p>This is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare the style
+of the Apostles and Evangelists with that of the monkish hagiologists.&nbsp;
+The calm, the simplicity, the brevity, the true grandeur of the former
+is sufficient evidence of their healthy-mindedness and their trustworthiness.&nbsp;
+The affectation, the self-consciousness, the bombast, the false grandeur
+of the latter is sufficient evidence that they are neither healthy-minded
+or trustworthy.&nbsp; Let students compare any passage of St. Luke or
+St. John, however surprising the miracle which it relates, with St.
+Jerome&rsquo;s life of Paul the First Hermit, or with that famous letter
+of his to Eustochium, which (although historically important) is unfit
+for the eyes of pure-minded readers and does not appear in this volume;
+and let them judge for themselves.&nbsp; Let them compare, again, the
+opening sentences of the Four Gospels, or of the Acts of the Apostles,
+with the words with which Reginald begins this life of St. Godric.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;By the touch of the Holy Spirit&rsquo;s finger the chord of the
+harmonic human heart resounds melodiously.&nbsp; For when the vein of
+the heart is touched by the grace of the Holy Spirit, forthwith, by
+the permirific sweetness of the harmony, an exceeding operation of sacred
+virtue is perceived more manifestly to spring forth.&nbsp; With this
+sweetness of spirit, Godric, the man of God, was filled from the very
+time of his boyhood, and grew famous for many admirable works of holy
+work (<i>sic</i>), because the harmonic teaching of the Holy Spirit
+fired the secrets of his very bosom with a wondrous contact of spiritual
+grace:&rdquo;&mdash;and let them say, after the comparison, if the difference
+between the two styles is not that which exists between one of God&rsquo;s
+lilies, fresh from the field, and a tawdry bunch of artificial flowers?</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; Godric himself took part in the history of his
+own miracles and life.&nbsp; It may be that he so overworked his brain
+that he believed that he was visited by St. Peter, and taught a hymn
+by the blessed Virgin Mary, and that he had taken part in a hundred
+other prodigies; but the Prologue to the Harleian manuscript (which
+the learned Editor, Mr. Stevenson, believes to be an early edition of
+Reginald&rsquo;s own composition) confesses that Reginald, compelled
+by Ailred of Rievaux, tried in vain for a long while to get the hermit&rsquo;s
+story from him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You wish to write my life?&rdquo; he said.&nbsp; &ldquo;Know
+then that Godric&rsquo;s life is such as this:&mdash;Godric, at first
+a gross rustic, an unclean liver, an usurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a
+flatterer, a wanderer, pilfering and greedy; now a dead flea, a decayed
+dog, a vile worm, not a hermit, but a hypocrite; not a solitary, but
+a gad-about in mind; a devourer of alms, dainty over good things, greedy
+and negligent, lazy and snoring, ambitious and prodigal, one who is
+not worthy to serve others, and yet every day beats and scolds those
+who serve him: this, and worse than this, you may write of Godric.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Then he was silent as one indignant,&rdquo; says Reginald, &ldquo;and
+I went off in some confusion,&rdquo; and the grand old man was left
+to himself and to his God.</p>
+<p>The ecclesiastical Boswell dared not mention the subject again to
+his hero for several years, though he came after from Durham to visit
+him, and celebrate mass for him in his little chapel.&nbsp; After some
+years, however, he approached the matter again; and whether a pardonable
+vanity had crept over Godric, or whether he had begun at last to believe
+in his miracles, or whether the old man had that upon his mind of which
+he longed to unburthen himself, he began to answer questions, and Reginald
+delighted to listen and note down till he had finished, he says, that
+book of his life and miracles; <a name="citation316"></a><a href="#footnote316">{316}</a>
+and after a while brought it to the saint, and falling on his knees,
+begged him to bless, in the name of God, and for the benefit of the
+faithful, the deeds of a certain religious man, who had suffered much
+for God in this life which he (Reginald) had composed accurately.&nbsp;
+The old man perceived that he himself was the subject, blessed the book
+with solemn words (what was written therein he does not seem to have
+read), and bade Reginald conceal it till his death, warning him that
+a time would come when he should suffer rough and bitter things on account
+of that book, from those who envied him.&nbsp; That prophecy, says Reginald,
+came to pass; but how, or why, he does not tell.&nbsp; There may have
+been, among those shrewd Northumbrian heads, even then, incredulous
+men, who used their common sense.</p>
+<p>But the story which Godric told was wild and beautiful; and though
+we must not depend too much on the accuracy of the old man&rsquo;s recollections,
+or on the honesty of Reginald&rsquo;s report, who would naturally omit
+all incidents which made against his hero&rsquo;s perfection, it is
+worth listening to, as a vivid sketch of the doings of a real human
+being, in that misty distance of the Early Middle Age.</p>
+<p>He was born, he said, at Walpole, in Norfolk, on the old Roman sea-bank,
+between the Wash and the deep Fens.&nbsp; His father&rsquo;s name was
+&AElig;ilward; his mother&rsquo;s, &AElig;dwen&mdash;&ldquo;the Keeper
+of Blessedness,&rdquo; and &ldquo;the Friend of Blessedness,&rdquo;
+as Reginald translates them&mdash;poor and pious folk; and, being a
+sharp boy, he did not take to field-work, but preferred wandering the
+fens as a pedlar, first round the villages, then, as he grew older,
+to castles and to towns, buying and selling&mdash;what, Reginald does
+not tell us: but we should be glad to know.</p>
+<p>One day he had a great deliverance, which Reginald thinks a miracle.&nbsp;
+Wandering along the great tide-flats near Spalding and the old Well-stream,
+in search of waifs, and strays, of wreck or eatables, he saw three porpoises
+stranded far out upon the banks.&nbsp; Two were alive, and the boy took
+pity on them (so he said) and let them be: but one was dead, and off
+it (in those days poor folks ate anything) he cut as much flesh and
+blubber as he could carry, and toiled back towards the high-tide mark.&nbsp;
+But whether he lost his way among the banks, or whether he delayed too
+long, the tide came in on him up to his knees, his waist, his chin,
+and at last, at times, over his head.&nbsp; The boy made the sign of
+the cross (as all men in danger did then) and struggled on valiantly
+a full mile through the sea, like a brave lad never loosening his hold
+of his precious porpoise-meat till he reached the shore at the very
+spot from which he had set out.</p>
+<p>As he grew, his pedlar journeys became longer.&nbsp; Repeating to
+himself, as he walked, the Creeds and the Lord&rsquo;s Prayer&mdash;his
+only lore&mdash;he walked for four years through Lindsey; then went
+to St. Andrew&rsquo;s in Scotland; after that, for the first time, to
+Rome.&nbsp; Then the love of a wandering sea life came on him, and he
+sailed with his wares round the east coasts; not merely as a pedlar,
+but as a sailor himself, he went to Denmark and to Flanders, buying
+and selling, till he owned (in what port we are not told, but probably
+in Lynn or Wisbeach) half one merchant ship and the quarter of another.&nbsp;
+A crafty steersman he was, a wise weather-prophet, a shipman stout in
+body and in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells us of 350 years
+after:&mdash;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;&mdash;A dagger hanging by a las hadde hee<br />About his
+nekke under his arm adoun.<br />The hote summer hadde made his hewe
+al broun.<br />And certainly he was a good felaw;<br />Full many a draught
+of wine he hadde draw,<br />From Burdeaux ward, while that the chapmen
+slepe,<br />Of nice conscience took he no kepe.<br />If that he fought,
+and hadde the higher hand,<br />By water he sent hem home to every land.<br />But
+of his craft to recken wel his tides,<br />His stremes and his strandes
+him besides,<br />His herberwe, his mone, and his lode manage,<br />There
+was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage.<br />Hardy he was, and wise,
+I undertake:<br />With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.<br />He
+knew wel alle the havens, as they were,<br />From Gotland to the Cape
+de Finisterre,<br />And every creke in Bretagne and in Spain.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>But gradually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought that
+there was something more to be done in the world than making money.&nbsp;
+He became a pious man after the fashion of those days.&nbsp; He worshipped
+at the famous shrine of St. Andrew.&nbsp; He worshipped, too, at St.
+Cuthbert&rsquo;s hermitage at Farne, and there, he said afterwards,
+he longed for the first time for the rest and solitude of the hermitage.&nbsp;
+He had been sixteen years a seaman now, with a seaman&rsquo;s temptations&mdash;it
+may be (as he told Reginald plainly) with some of a seaman&rsquo;s vices.&nbsp;
+He may have done things which lay heavy on his conscience.&nbsp; But
+it was getting time to think about his soul.&nbsp; He took the cross,
+and went off to Jerusalem, as many a man did then, under difficulties
+incredible, dying, too often, on the way.&nbsp; But Godric not only
+got safe thither, but went out of his way home by Spain to visit the
+sanctuary of St. James of Compostella, a see which Pope Calixtus II.
+had just raised to metropolitan dignity.</p>
+<p>Then he appears as steward to a rich man in the Fens, whose sons
+and young retainers, after the lawless fashion of those Anglo-Norman
+times, rode out into the country round to steal the peasants&rsquo;
+sheep and cattle, skin them on the spot, and pass them off to the master
+of the house as venison taken in hunting.&nbsp; They ate and drank,
+roystered and rioted, like most other young Normans; and vexed the staid
+soul of Godric, whose nose told him plainly enough, whenever he entered
+the kitchen, that what was roasting had never come off a deer.&nbsp;
+In vain he protested and warned them, getting only insults for his pains.&nbsp;
+At last he told his lord.&nbsp; The lord, as was to be expected, cared
+nought about the matter.&nbsp; Let the lads rob the English villains:
+for what other end had their grandfathers conquered the land?&nbsp;
+Godric punished himself, as he could not punish them, for the unwilling
+share which he had had in the wrong.&nbsp; It may be that he, too, had
+eaten of that stolen food.&nbsp; So away he went into France, and down
+the Rhone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of St. Giles, the patron saint
+of the wild deer; and then on to Rome a second time, and back to his
+poor parents in the Fens.</p>
+<p>And now follows a strange and beautiful story.&nbsp; All love of
+seafaring and merchandise had left the deep-hearted sailor.&nbsp; The
+heavenly and the eternal, the salvation of his sinful soul, had become
+all in all to him; and yet he could not rest in the little dreary village
+on the Roman bank.&nbsp; He would go on pilgrimage again.&nbsp; Then
+his mother would go likewise, and see St. Peter&rsquo;s church, and
+the Pope, and all the wonders of Rome, and have her share in all the
+spiritual blessings which were to be obtained (so men thought then)
+at Rome alone.&nbsp; So off they set on foot; and when they came to
+ford or ditch, Godric carried his mother on his back, until they came
+to London town.&nbsp; And there &AElig;dwen took off her shoes, and
+vowed out of devotion to the holy apostles Peter and Paul (who, so she
+thought, would be well pleased at such an act) to walk barefoot to Rome
+and barefoot back again.</p>
+<p>Now just as they went out of London, on the Dover Road, there met
+them in the way the loveliest maiden they had ever seen, and asked to
+bear them company in their pilgrimage.&nbsp; And when they agreed, she
+walked with them, sat with them, and talked with them with superhuman
+courtesy and grace; and when they turned into an inn, she ministered
+to them herself, and washed and kissed their feet, and then lay down
+with them to sleep, after the simple fashion of those days.&nbsp; But
+a holy awe of her, as of some saint and goddess, fell on the wild seafarer;
+and he never, so he used to aver, treated her for a moment save as a
+sister.&nbsp; Never did either ask the other who they were, and whence
+they came; and Godric reported (but this was long after the event) that
+no one of the company of pilgrims could see that fair maid, save he
+and his mother alone.&nbsp; So they came safe to Rome, and back to London
+town; and when they were at the place outside Southwark, where the fair
+maid had met them first, she asked permission to leave them, for she
+&ldquo;must go to her own land, where she had a tabernacle of rest,
+and dwelt in the house of her God.&rdquo;&nbsp; And then, bidding them
+bless God, who had brought them safe over the Alps, and across the sea,
+and all along that weary road, she went on her way, and they saw her
+no more.</p>
+<p>Then with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory, and it
+may be never leaving it, Godric took his mother safe home, and delivered
+her to his father, and bade them both after awhile farewell, and wandered
+across England to Penrith, and hung about the churches there, till some
+kinsmen of his recognised him, and gave him a psalter (he must have
+taught himself to read upon his travels), which he learnt by heart.&nbsp;
+Then, wandering ever in search of solitude, he went into the woods and
+found a cave, and passed his time therein in prayer, living on green
+herbs and wild honey, acorns and crabs; and when he went about to gather
+food, he fell down on his knees every few yards and said a prayer, and
+rose and went on.</p>
+<p>After awhile he wandered on again, until at Wolsingham, in Durham,
+he met with another holy hermit, who had been a monk at Durham, living
+in a cave in forests in which no man dare dwell, so did they swarm with
+packs of wolves; and there the two good men dwelt together till the
+old hermit fell sick, and was like to die.&nbsp; Godric nursed him,
+and sat by him, to watch for his last breath.&nbsp; For the same longing
+had come over him which came over Marguerite d&rsquo;Angoul&ecirc;me
+when she sat by the dying bed of her favourite maid of honour&mdash;to
+see if the spirit, when it left the body, were visible, and what kind
+of thing it was: whether, for instance, it was really like the little
+naked babe which is seen in medi&aelig;val illuminations flying out
+of the mouths of dying men.&nbsp; But, worn out with watching, Godric
+could not keep from sleep.&nbsp; All but despairing of his desire, he
+turned to the dying man, and spoke, says Reginald, some such words as
+these:&mdash;&ldquo;O spirit! who art diffused in that body in the likeness
+of God, and art still inside that breast, I adjure thee by the Highest,
+that thou leave not the prison of this thine habitation while I am overcome
+by sleep, and know not of it.&rdquo;&nbsp; And so he fell asleep: but
+when he woke, the old hermit lay motionless and breathless.&nbsp; Poor
+Godric wept, called on the dead man, called on God; his simple heart
+was set on seeing this one thing.&nbsp; And, behold, he was consoled
+in a wondrous fashion.&nbsp; For about the third hour of the day the
+breath returned.&nbsp; Godric hung over him, watching his lips.&nbsp;
+Three heavy sighs he drew, then a shudder, another sigh: <a name="citation323"></a><a href="#footnote323">{323}</a>
+and then (so Godric was believed to have said in after years) he saw
+the spirit flit.</p>
+<p>What it was like, he did not like to say, for the most obvious reason&mdash;that
+he saw nothing, and was an honest man.&nbsp; A monk teased him much
+to impart to him this great discovery, which seemed to the simple untaught
+sailor a great spiritual mystery, and which was, like some other medi&aelig;val
+mysteries which were miscalled spiritual (transubstantiation above all),
+altogether material and gross imaginations.&nbsp; Godric answered wisely
+enough, that &ldquo;no man could perceive the substance of the spiritual
+soul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the monk insisting, and giving him no rest, he answered,&mdash;whether
+he wished to answer a fool according to his folly, or whether he tried
+to fancy (as men will who are somewhat vain&mdash;and if a saint was
+not vain, it was no fault of the monks who beset him) that he had really
+seen something.&nbsp; He told how it was like a dry, hot wind rolled
+into a sphere, and shining like the clearest glass, but that what it
+was really like no one could express.&nbsp; Thus much, at least, may
+be gathered from the involved bombast of Reginald.</p>
+<p>Another pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre did Godric make before he
+went to the hermitage in Eskdale, and settled finally at Finchale.&nbsp;
+And there about the hills of Jud&aelig;a he found, says Reginald, hermits
+dwelling in rock-caves, as they had dwelt since the time of St. Jerome.&nbsp;
+He washed himself, and his hair shirt and little cross, in the sacred
+waters of the Jordan, and returned, after incredible suffering, to become
+the saint of Finchale.</p>
+<p>His hermitage became, in due time, a stately priory, with its community
+of monks, who looked up to the memory of their holy father Godric as
+to that of a demigod.&nbsp; The place is all ruinate now; the memory
+of St. Godric gone; and not one in ten thousand, perhaps, who visit
+those crumbling walls beside the rushing Wear, has heard of the sailor-saint,
+and his mother, and that fair maid who tended them on their pilgrimage.</p>
+<p>Meanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same hermitage
+in Eskdale, from which a Percy expelled St. Godric, possibly because
+he interfered with the prior claim of some <i>prot&eacute;g&eacute;</i>
+of their own; for they had, a few years before Godric&rsquo;s time,
+granted that hermitage to the monks of Whitby, who were not likely to
+allow a stranger to establish himself on their ground.</p>
+<p>About that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in the Middle
+Ages, in which the hermit appears as the protector of the hunted wild
+beast; a story, too, which was probably authentic, as the curious custom
+which was said to perpetuate its memory lasted at least till the year
+1753.&nbsp; I quote it at length from Burton&rsquo;s &ldquo;Monasticon
+Eboracense,&rdquo; p. 78, knowing no other authority.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the fifth year of the reign of King Henry II. after the
+conquest of England by William, duke of Normandy, the Lord of Uglebardby,
+then called William de Bruce, and the Lord of Sneton, called Ralph de
+Perci, with a gentleman and a freeholder called Allatson, did on the
+16th day of October appoint to meet and hunt the wild boar, in a certain
+wood or desert place belonging to the abbot of the monastery of Whitby;
+the place&rsquo;s name is Eskdale-side; the abbot&rsquo;s name was Sedman.&nbsp;
+Then these gentlemen being met, with their hounds and boar-staves, in
+the place before-named, and there having found a great wild boar, the
+hounds ran him well near about the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale-side,
+where was a monk of Whitby, who was a hermit.&nbsp; The boar being very
+sore, and very hotly pursued, and dead run, took in at the chapel door,
+and there died: whereupon the hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel,
+and kept himself within at his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing
+at bay without.&nbsp; The gentlemen in the thick of the wood, being
+put behind their game, followed the cry of their hounds, and so came
+to the hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opened the door and came
+forth, and within they found the boar lying dead, for which the gentlemen
+in very great fury (because their hounds were put from their game) did
+most violently and cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves,
+whereby he died soon after: thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and
+knowing that they were in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough.&nbsp;
+But at that time the abbot, being in very great favour with King Henry,
+removed them out of the sanctuary, whereby they came in danger of the
+law, and not to be privileged, but likely to have the severity of the
+law, which was death.&nbsp; But the hermit, being a holy and devout
+man, at the point of death sent for the abbot, and desired him to send
+for the gentlemen who had wounded him: the abbot so doing, the gentlemen
+came, and the hermit, being very sick and weak, said unto them, &lsquo;I
+am sure to die of those wounds you have given me.&rsquo;&nbsp; The abbot
+answered, &lsquo;They shall as surely die for the same;&rsquo; but the
+hermit answered, &lsquo;Not so, for I will freely forgive them my death,
+if they will be contented to be enjoined this penance for the safeguard
+of their souls.&rsquo;&nbsp; The gentlemen being present, and terrified
+with the fear of death, bade him enjoin what penance he would, so that
+he would but save their lives.&nbsp; Then said the hermit, &lsquo;You
+and yours shall hold your lands of the Abbot of Whitby and his successors
+in this manner: That upon Ascension Eve, you or some of you shall come
+to the woods of the Strag Heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same
+day at sun-rising, and there shall the abbot&rsquo;s officer blow his
+horn, to the intent that you may know how to find him; and he shall
+deliver unto you, William de Bruce, ten stakes, eleven strut-towers,
+and eleven yethers, to be cut by you or some for you, with a knife of
+one penny price; and you, Ralph de Perci, shall take twenty and one
+of each sort, to be cut in the same manner; and you, Allatson, shall
+take nine of each sort, to be cut as aforesaid, and to be taken on your
+backs, and carried to the town of Whitby, and to be there before nine
+of the clock the same day before-mentioned; at the same hour of nine
+of the clock (if it be full sea) your labour or service shall cease;
+but if it be not full sea, each of you shall set your stakes at the
+brim, each stake one yard from the other, and so yether them on each
+side of your yethers, and so stake on each side with your strut-towers,
+that they may stand three tides without removing by the force thereof:
+each of you shall do, make, and execute the said service at that very
+hour every year, except it shall be full sea at that hour: but when
+it shall so fall out, this service shall cease.&nbsp; You shall faithfully
+do this in remembrance that you did most cruelly slay me; and that you
+may the better call to God for mercy, repent unfeignedly for your sins,
+and do good works, the officers of Eskdale-side shall blow, <i>Out on
+you, out on you, out on you</i>, for this heinous crime.&nbsp; If you
+or your successors shall refuse this service, so long as it shall not
+be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or yours shall forfeit your lands
+to the Abbot of Whitby, or his successors.&nbsp; This I intreat, and
+earnestly beg that you may have lives and goods preserved for this service;
+and I request of you to promise by your parts in heaven that it shall
+be done by you and your successors, as it is aforesaid requested, and
+I will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.&rsquo;&nbsp; Then the
+hermit said: &lsquo;My soul longeth for the Lord, and I do as freely
+forgive these men my death as Christ forgave the thieves upon the cross;&rsquo;
+and in the presence of the abbot and the rest he said, moreover, these
+words: &lsquo;Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit, for from
+the bonds of death Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth.&nbsp; Amen.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+So he yielded up the ghost the eighth day of December, A.D. 1160, upon
+whose soul God have mercy.&nbsp; Amen.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>ANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The fertile and peaceable lowlands of England, as I have just said,
+offered few spots sufficiently wild and lonely for the habitation of
+a hermit; those, therefore, who wished to retire from the world into
+a more strict and solitary life than that which the monastery afforded
+were in the habit of immuring themselves, as anchorites, or in old English
+&ldquo;Ankers,&rdquo; in little cells of stone, built usually against
+the wall of a church.&nbsp; There is nothing new under the sun; and
+similar anchorites might have been seen in Egypt, 500 years before the
+time of St. Antony, immured in cells in the temples of Isis or Serapis.&nbsp;
+It is only recently that antiquaries have discovered how common this
+practice was in England, and how frequently the traces of these cells
+are to be found about our parish churches.&nbsp; They were so common
+in the Diocese of Lincoln in the thirteenth century, that in 1233 the
+archdeacon is ordered to inquire whether any Anchorites&rsquo; cells
+had been built without the Bishop&rsquo;s leave; and in many of our
+parish churches may be seen, either on the north or the south side of
+the chancel, a narrow slit in the wall, or one of the lights of a window
+prolonged downwards, the prolongation, if not now walled up, being closed
+with a shutter.&nbsp; Through these apertures the &ldquo;incluse,&rdquo;
+or anker, watched the celebration of mass, and partook of the Holy Communion.&nbsp;
+Similar cells were to be found in Ireland, at least in the diocese of
+Ossory; and doubtless in Scotland also.&nbsp; Ducange, in his Glossary,
+on the word &ldquo;inclusi,&rdquo; lays down rules for the size of the
+anker&rsquo;s cell, which must be twelve feet square, with three windows,
+one opening into the church, one for taking in his food, and one for
+light; and the &ldquo;Salisbury Manual&rdquo; as well as the &ldquo;Pontifical&rdquo;
+of Lacy, bishop of Exeter, in the first half of the fifteenth century,
+contains a regular &ldquo;service&rdquo; for the walling in of an anchorite.
+<a name="citation330"></a><a href="#footnote330">{330}</a>&nbsp; There
+exists too a most singular and painful book, well known to antiquaries,
+but to them alone, &ldquo;The Ancren Riwle,&rdquo; addressed to three
+young ladies who had immured themselves (seemingly about the beginning
+of the thirteenth century) at Kingston Tarrant, in Dorsetshire.</p>
+<p>For women as well as men entered these living tombs; and there spent
+their days in dirt and starvation, and such prayer and meditation doubtless
+as the stupified and worn-out intellect could compass; their only recreation
+being the gossip of the neighbouring women, who came to peep in through
+the little window&mdash;a recreation in which (if we are to believe
+the author of &ldquo;The Ancren Riwle&rdquo;) they were tempted to indulge
+only too freely; till the window of the recluse&rsquo;s cell, he says,
+became what the smith&rsquo;s forge or the alehouse has become since&mdash;the
+place where all the gossip and scandal of the village passed from one
+ear to another.&nbsp; But we must not believe such scandals of all.&nbsp;
+Only too much in earnest must those seven young maidens have been, whom
+St. Gilbert of Sempringham persuaded to immure themselves, as a sacrifice
+acceptable to God, in a den along the north wall of his church; or that
+St. Hutta, or Huetta, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, who
+after ministering to lepers, and longing and even trying to become a
+leper herself, immured herself for life in a cell against the church
+of Huy near Li&egrave;ge.</p>
+<p>Fearful must have been the fate of these incluses if any evil had
+befallen the building of which (one may say) they had become a part.&nbsp;
+More than one in the stormy Middle Age may have suffered the fate of
+the poor women immured beside St. Mary&rsquo;s church at Mantes, who,
+when town and church were burnt by William the Conqueror, unable to
+escape (or, according to William of Malmesbury, thinking it unlawful
+to quit their cells even in that extremity), perished in the flames;
+and so consummated once and for all their long martyrdom.</p>
+<p>How long the practice of the hermit life was common in these islands
+is more than my learning enables me to say.&nbsp; Hermits seem, from
+the old Chartularies, <a name="citation331"></a><a href="#footnote331">{331}</a>
+to have been not unfrequent in Scotland and the North of England during
+the whole Middle Age.&nbsp; We have seen that they were frequent in
+the times of Malcolm Canmore and the old Celtic Church; and the Latin
+Church, which was introduced by St. Margaret, seems to have kept up
+the fashion.&nbsp; In the middle of the thirteenth century, David de
+Haigh conveyed to the monks of Cupar the hermitage which Gilmichael
+the Hermit once held, with three acres of land.&nbsp; In 1329 the Convent
+of Durham made a grant of a hermitage to Roger Eller at Norham on the
+Tweed, in order that he might have a &ldquo;fit place to fight with
+the old enemy and bewail his sins, apart from the turmoil of men.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+In 1445 James the Second, king of Scots, granted to John Smith the hermitage
+in the forest of Kilgur, &ldquo;which formerly belonged in heritage
+to Hugh Cominch the Hermit, and was resigned by him, with the croft
+and the green belonging to it, and three acres of arable land.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I have quoted these few instances, to show how long the custom lingered;
+and doubtless hermits were to be found in the remoter parts of these
+realms when the sudden tempest of the Reformation swept away alike the
+palace of the rich abbot and the cell of the poor recluse, and exterminated
+throughout England the ascetic life.&nbsp; The two last hermits whom
+I have come across in history are both figures which exemplify very
+well those times of corruption and of change.&nbsp; At Loretto (not
+in Italy, but in Musselburgh, near Edinburgh) there lived a hermit who
+pretended to work miracles, and who it seems had charge of some image
+of &ldquo;Our Lady of Loretto.&rdquo;&nbsp; The scandals which ensued
+from the visits of young folks to this hermit roused the wrath of that
+terrible scourge of monks, Sir David Lindsay of the Mount: yet as late
+as 1536, James the Fifth of Scotland made a pilgrimage from Stirling
+to the shrine, in order to procure a propitious passage to France in
+search of a wife.&nbsp; But in 1543, Lord Hertford, during his destructive
+voyage to the Forth, destroyed, with other objects of greater consequence,
+the chapel of the &ldquo;Lady of Lorett,&rdquo; which was not likely
+in those days to be rebuilt; and so the hermit of Musselburgh vanishes
+from history.</p>
+<p>A few years before, in 1537, says Mr. Froude, <a name="citation333"></a><a href="#footnote333">{333}</a>
+while the harbours, piers, and fortresses were rising in Dover, &ldquo;an
+ancient hermit tottered night after night from his cell to a chapel
+on the cliff, and the tapers on the altar before which he knelt in his
+lonely orisons made a familiar beacon far over the rolling waters.&nbsp;
+The men of the rising world cared little for the sentiment of the past.&nbsp;
+The anchorite was told sternly by the workmen that his light was a signal
+to the King&rsquo;s enemies&rdquo; (a Spanish invasion from Flanders
+was expected), &ldquo;and must burn no more; and, when it was next seen,
+three of them waylaid the old man on his way home, threw him down and
+beat him cruelly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So ended, in an undignified way, as worn-out institutions are wont
+to end, the hermit life in the British Isles.&nbsp; Will it ever reappear?&nbsp;
+Who can tell?&nbsp; To an age of luxury and unbelief has succeeded,
+more than once in history, an age of remorse and superstition.&nbsp;
+Gay gentlemen and gay ladies may renounce the world, as they did in
+the time of St Jerome, when the world is ready to renounce them.&nbsp;
+We have already our nunneries, our monasteries, of more creeds than
+one; and the mountains of Kerry, or the pine forests of the Highlands,
+may some day once more hold hermits, persuading themselves to believe,
+and at last succeeding in believing, the teaching of St. Antony, instead
+of that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and of that Father of the spirits
+of all flesh, who made love, and marriage, and little children, sunshine
+and flowers, the wings of butterflies and the song of birds; who rejoices
+in his own works, and bids all who truly reverence him rejoice in them
+with him.&nbsp; The fancy may seem impossible.&nbsp; It is not more
+impossible than many religious phenomena seemed forty years ago, which
+are now no fancies, but powerful facts.</p>
+<p>The following books should be consulted by those who wish to follow
+out this curious subject in detail:&mdash;</p>
+<p>The &ldquo;Vit&aelig; Patrum Eremiticorum.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The &ldquo;Acta Sanctorum.&rdquo;&nbsp; The Bollandists are, of course,
+almost exhaustive of any subject on which they treat.&nbsp; But as they
+are difficult to find, save in a few public libraries, the &ldquo;Acta
+Sanctorum&rdquo; of Surius, or of Aloysius Lipommasius, may be profitably
+consulted.&nbsp; Butler&rsquo;s &ldquo;Lives of the Saints&rdquo; is
+a book common enough, but of no great value.</p>
+<p>M. de Montalembert&rsquo;s &ldquo;Moines d&rsquo;Occident,&rdquo;
+and Ozanam&rsquo;s &ldquo;Etudes Germaniques,&rdquo; may be read with
+much profit.</p>
+<p>Dr. Reeves&rsquo; edition of Adamnan&rsquo;s &ldquo;Life of St. Columba,&rdquo;
+published by the Irish Arch&aelig;ological and Celtic Society, is a
+treasury of learning, which needs no praise of mine.</p>
+<p>The lives of St. Cuthbert and St. Godric may be found among the publications
+of the Surtees Society.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12">{12}</a>&nbsp; About
+A.D. 368.&nbsp; See the details in Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xxviii.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15">{15}</a>&nbsp; In
+the Celtic Irish Church, there seems to have been no other pattern.&nbsp;
+The hermits who became abbots, with their monks, were the only teachers
+of the people&mdash;one had almost said, the only Christians.&nbsp;
+Whence, as early as the sixth century, if not the fifth, they, and their
+disciples of Iona and Scotland, derived their peculiar tonsure, their
+use of bells, their Eastern mode of keeping the Paschal feast, and other
+peculiarities, seemingly without the intervention of Rome, is a mystery
+still unsolved.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17a"></a><a href="#citation17a">{17a}</a>&nbsp;
+A book which, from its bearing on present problems, well deserves translation.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote17b"></a><a href="#citation17b">{17b}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Vit&aelig; Patrum.&rdquo;&nbsp; Published at Antwerp, 1628.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23">{23}</a>&nbsp; He
+is addressing our Lord.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24">{24}</a>&nbsp; &ldquo;Agentes
+in rebus.&rdquo;&nbsp; On the Emperor&rsquo;s staff?</p>
+<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27">{27}</a>&nbsp; St.
+Augustine says, that Potitianus&rsquo;s adventure at Tr&ecirc;ves happened
+&ldquo;I know not when.&rdquo;&nbsp; His own conversation with Potitianus
+must have happened about A.D. 385, for he was baptized April 25, A.D.
+387.&nbsp; He does not mention the name of Potitianus&rsquo;s emperor:
+but as Gratian was Augustus from A.D. 367 to A.D. 375, and actual Emperor
+of the West till A.D. 383, and as Tr&ecirc;ves was his usual residence,
+he is most probably the person meant: but if not, then his father Valentinian.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29">{29}</a>&nbsp; See
+the excellent article on Gratian in Smith&rsquo;s Dictionary, by Mr.
+Means.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30">{30}</a>&nbsp; I cannot
+explain this fact: but I have seen it with my own eyes.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32">{32}</a>&nbsp; I use
+throughout the text published by Heschelius, in 1611.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33">{33}</a>&nbsp; He
+is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle Egypt,
+A.D. 251.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34">{34}</a>&nbsp; Seemingly
+the Greek language and literature.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35">{35}</a>&nbsp; I have
+thought it more honest to translate &alpha;&sigma;&kappa;&eta;&sigma;&iota;&sigmaf;
+by &ldquo;training,&rdquo; which is now, as then, its true equivalent;
+being a metaphor drawn from the Greek games by St. Paul, 1 Tim. iv.
+8.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41">{41}</a>&nbsp; I give
+this passage as it stands in the Greek version.&nbsp; In the Latin,
+attributed to Evagrius, it is even more extravagant and rhetorical.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42">{42}</a>&nbsp; Surely
+the imagery painted on the inner walls of Egyptian tombs, and probably
+believed by Antony and his compeers to be connected with devil-worship,
+explain these visions.&nbsp; In the &ldquo;Words of the Elders&rdquo;
+a monk complains of being troubled with &ldquo;pictures, old and new.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Probably, again, the pain which Antony felt was the agony of a fever;
+and the visions which he saw, its delirium.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44">{44}</a>&nbsp; Here
+is an instance of the original use of the word &ldquo;monastery,&rdquo;
+viz. a cell in which a single person dwelt.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45">{45}</a>&nbsp; An
+allusion to the heathen mysteries.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49">{49}</a>&nbsp; A.D.
+311.&nbsp; Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had
+been a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius Maximianus;
+and rose, like him, through the various grades of the army to be co-Emperor
+of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious persecutor of
+the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant.&nbsp; Such were
+the &ldquo;kings of the world&rdquo; from whom those old monks fled.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote52a"></a><a href="#citation52a">{52a}</a>&nbsp;
+The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile.&nbsp; &ldquo;Below
+the cliffs, beside the sea,&rdquo; as one describes them.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote52b"></a><a href="#citation52b">{52b}</a>&nbsp;
+Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah, between
+the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony&rsquo;s monks endure to this
+day.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60">{60}</a>&nbsp; This
+most famous monastery, <i>i.e</i>. collection of monks&rsquo; cells,
+in Egypt is situate forty miles from Alexandria, on a hill where nitre
+was gathered.&nbsp; The hospitality and virtue of its inmates are much
+praised by Ruffinus and Palladius.&nbsp; They were, nevertheless, the
+chief agents in the fanatical murder of Hypatia.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65">{65}</a>&nbsp; It
+appears from this and many other passages, that extempore prayer was
+usual among these monks, as it was afterwards among the Puritans (who
+have copied them in so many other things), whenever a godly man visited
+them.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote66a"></a><a href="#citation66a">{66a}</a>&nbsp;
+Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism calling
+itself the &ldquo;Church of the Martyrs,&rdquo; which refused to communicate
+with the rest of the Eastern Church.&nbsp; See Smith&rsquo;s &ldquo;Dictionary,&rdquo;
+on the word &ldquo;Meletius.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote66b"></a><a href="#citation66b">{66b}</a>&nbsp;
+Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was Athanasius, the
+writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of God was not co-equal
+and co-eternal with the Father, but created by Him out of nothing, and
+before the world.&nbsp; His opinions were condemned in the famous Council
+of Nic&aelig;a, A.D. 325.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67">{67}</a>&nbsp; If
+St. Antony could use so extreme an argument against the Arians, what
+would he have said to the Mariolatry which sprang up after his death?</p>
+<p><a name="footnote68a"></a><a href="#citation68a">{68a}</a>&nbsp;
+<i>I.e</i>. those who were still heathens.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote68b"></a><a href="#citation68b">{68b}</a>&nbsp;
+&iota;&epsilon;&rho;&epsilon;&upsilon;&sigmaf;.&nbsp; The Christian
+priest is always called in this work simply &pi;&rho;&epsilon;&sigma;&theta;&upsilon;&tau;&epsilon;&rho;&omicron;&sigmaf;,
+or elder.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote72a"></a><a href="#citation72a">{72a}</a>&nbsp;
+Probably that of A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, nominated by
+the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of Antioch, expelled
+Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great violence was committed
+by his followers and by Philagrius the Prefect.&nbsp; Athanasius meanwhile
+fled to Rome.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote72b"></a><a href="#citation72b">{72b}</a>&nbsp;
+<i>I.e</i>. celebrated there their own Communion.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77">{77}</a>&nbsp; Evidently
+the prim&aelig;val custom of embalming the dead, and keeping mummies
+in the house, still lingered among the Egyptians.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote108"></a><a href="#citation108">{108}</a>&nbsp;
+These sounds, like those which St. Guthlac heard in the English fens,
+are plainly those of wild-fowl.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote115"></a><a href="#citation115">{115}</a>&nbsp;
+The Brucheion, with its palaces and museum, the residence of the kings
+and philosophers of Egypt, had been destroyed is the days of Claudius
+and Valerian, during the senseless civil wars which devastated Alexandria
+for twelve years; and monks had probably taken up their abode in the
+ruins.&nbsp; It was in this quarter, at the beginning of the next century,
+that Hypatia was murdered by the monks.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote116"></a><a href="#citation116">{116}</a>&nbsp;
+Probably the Northern, or Lesser Oasis, Ouah el Baharieh, about eighty
+miles west of the Nile.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117a"></a><a href="#citation117a">{117a}</a>&nbsp;
+Jerome (who sailed that sea several times) uses the word here, as it
+is used in Acts xxvii. 27, for the sea about Malta, &ldquo;driven up
+and down in Adria.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote117b"></a><a href="#citation117b">{117b}</a>&nbsp;
+The southern point of Sicily, now Cape Passaro.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote118"></a><a href="#citation118">{118}</a>&nbsp;
+In the Morea, near the modern Navarino.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote119a"></a><a href="#citation119a">{119a}</a>&nbsp;
+At the mouth of the Bay of Cattaro.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote119b"></a><a href="#citation119b">{119b}</a>&nbsp;
+This story&mdash;whatever belief we may give to its details&mdash;is
+one of many which make it tolerably certain that a large snake (Python)
+still lingered in Eastern Europe.&nbsp; Huge tame snakes were kept as
+sacred by the Macedonian women; and one of them (according to Lucian)
+Peregrinus Proteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitted with a linen
+mask, and made it personate the god &AElig;sculapius.&nbsp; In the &ldquo;Historia
+Lausiaca,&rdquo; cap. lii. is an account by an eye-witness of a large
+snake in the Thebaid, whose track was &ldquo;as if a beam had been dragged
+along the sand.&rdquo;&nbsp; It terrifies the Syrian monks: but the
+Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying that he had seen much
+larger&mdash;even up to fifteen cubits.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote121"></a><a href="#citation121">{121}</a>&nbsp;
+Now Capo St. Angelo and the island of Cerigo, at the southern point
+of Greece.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote123a"></a><a href="#citation123a">{123a}</a>&nbsp;
+See p. 52.&nbsp; [Around footnote 52a in the text&mdash;DP.]</p>
+<p><a name="footnote123b"></a><a href="#citation123b">{123b}</a>&nbsp;
+Probably dedicated to the Paphian Venus.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote130"></a><a href="#citation130">{130}</a>&nbsp;
+The lives of these two hermits and that of St. Cuthbert will be given
+in a future number.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote131"></a><a href="#citation131">{131}</a>&nbsp;
+Sihor, the black river, was the ancient name of the Nile, derived from
+the dark hue of its waters.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote159"></a><a href="#citation159">{159}</a>&nbsp;
+Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv. cap. 9.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote160"></a><a href="#citation160">{160}</a>&nbsp;
+By Dr. Burgess.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote163"></a><a href="#citation163">{163}</a>&nbsp;
+History of Christianity, vol. iii. p. 109.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote203"></a><a href="#citation203">{203}</a>&nbsp;
+An authentic fact.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote204"></a><a href="#citation204">{204}</a>&nbsp;
+If any one doubts this, let him try the game called &ldquo;Russian scandal,&rdquo;
+where a story, passed secretly from mouth to mouth, ends utterly transformed,
+the original point being lost, a new point substituted, original names
+and facts omitted, and utterly new ones inserted, &amp;c. &amp;c.; an
+experiment which is ludicrous, or saddening, according to the temper
+of the experimenter.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote209"></a><a href="#citation209">{209}</a>&nbsp;
+Les Moines d&rsquo;Occident, vol. ii. pp. 332-467.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote210"></a><a href="#citation210">{210}</a>&nbsp;
+M. La Borderie, &ldquo;Discours sur les Saints Bretons;&rdquo; a work
+which I have unfortunately not been able to consult.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212a"></a><a href="#citation212a">{212a}</a>&nbsp;
+Vit&aelig; Patrum, p. 753.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212b"></a><a href="#citation212b">{212b}</a>&nbsp;
+Ibid. p. 893.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212c"></a><a href="#citation212c">{212c}</a>&nbsp;
+Ibid. p. 539.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212d"></a><a href="#citation212d">{212d}</a>&nbsp;
+Ibid. p. 540.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote212e"></a><a href="#citation212e">{212e}</a>&nbsp;
+Ibid. p. 532.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote224"></a><a href="#citation224">{224}</a>&nbsp;
+It has been handed down, in most crabbed Latin, by his disciple, Eugippius;
+it may be read at length in Pez, Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote238"></a><a href="#citation238">{238}</a>&nbsp;
+Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote245"></a><a href="#citation245">{245}</a>&nbsp;
+H&aelig;ften, quoted by Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote256"></a><a href="#citation256">{256}</a>&nbsp;
+Dr. Reeves supposes these to have been &ldquo;crustacea:&rdquo; but
+their stinging and clinging prove them surely to have been jelly-fish&mdash;medus&aelig;.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote257"></a><a href="#citation257">{257}</a>&nbsp;
+I have followed the Latin prose version of it, which M. Achille Jubinal
+attributes to the eleventh century.&nbsp; Here and there I have taken
+the liberty of using the French prose version, which he attributes to
+the latter part of the twelfth.&nbsp; I have often condensed the story,
+where it was prolix or repeated itself: but I have tried to follow faithfully
+both matter and style, and to give, word for word, as nearly as I could,
+any notable passages.&nbsp; Those who wish to know more of St. Brendan
+should consult the learned <i>brochure</i> of M. Jubinal, &ldquo;La
+L&eacute;gende Latine de St. Brandaines,&rdquo; and the two English
+versions of the Legend, edited by Mr. Thomas Wright for the Percy Society,
+vol. xiv.&nbsp; One is in verse, and of the earlier part of the fourteenth
+century, and spirited enough: the other, a prose version, was printed
+by Wynkyn de Worde, in his edition of the &ldquo;Golden Legend;&rdquo;
+1527.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote260a"></a><a href="#citation260a">{260a}</a>&nbsp;
+In the Barony of Longford, County Galway.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote260b"></a><a href="#citation260b">{260b}</a>&nbsp;
+3,000, like 300, seems to be, I am informed, only an Irish expression
+for any large number.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote269"></a><a href="#citation269">{269}</a>&nbsp;
+Some dim legend concerning icebergs, and caves therein.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote270"></a><a href="#citation270">{270}</a>&nbsp;
+Probably from reports of the volcanic coast of Iceland.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote272"></a><a href="#citation272">{272}</a>&nbsp;
+This part of the legend has been changed and humanized as time ran on.&nbsp;
+In the Latin and French versions it has little or no point or moral.&nbsp;
+In the English, Judas accounts for the presence of the cloth thus:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here I may see what it is to give other men&rsquo;s (goods)
+with harm.<br />As will many rich men with unright all day take,<br />Of
+poor men here and there, and almisse (alms) sithhe (afterwards) make.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>For the tongs and the stone he accounts by saying that, as he used
+them for &ldquo;good ends, each thing should surely find him which he
+did for God&rsquo;s love.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But in &ldquo;the prose version of Wynkyn de Worde, the tongs have
+been changed into &ldquo;ox-tongues,&rdquo; &ldquo;which I gave some
+tyme to two preestes to praye for me.&nbsp; I bought them with myne
+owne money, and therefore they ease me, bycause the fysshes of the sea
+gnaw on them, and spare me.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This latter story of the ox-tongues has been followed by Mr. Sebastian
+Evans, in his poem on St. Brendan.&nbsp; Both he and Mr. Matthew Arnold
+have rendered the moral of the English version very beautifully.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote274"></a><a href="#citation274">{274}</a>&nbsp;
+Copied, surely, from the life of Paul the first hermit.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote283"></a><a href="#citation283">{283}</a>&nbsp;
+The famous Cathach, now in the museum of the Royal Irish Academy, was
+long popularly believed to be the very Psalter in question.&nbsp; As
+a relic of St. Columba it was carried to battle by the O&rsquo;Donnels,
+even as late as 1497, to insure victory for the clan.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote290"></a><a href="#citation290">{290}</a>&nbsp;
+Bede, book iii. cap. 3.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote292"></a><a href="#citation292">{292}</a>&nbsp;
+These details, and countless stories of St. Cuthbert&rsquo;s miracles,
+are to be found in Reginald of Durham, &ldquo;De Admirandis Beati Cuthberti,&rdquo;
+published by the Surtees Society.&nbsp; This curious book is admirably
+edited by Mr. J. Raine; with an English synopsis at the end, which enables
+the reader for whom the Latin is too difficult to enjoy those pictures
+of life under Stephen and Henry II., whether moral, religious, or social,
+of which the book is a rich museum.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote299"></a><a href="#citation299">{299}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;In this hole lie the bones of the Venerable Bede.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><a name="footnote303"></a><a href="#citation303">{303}</a>&nbsp;
+An English translation of the Anglo-Saxon life has been published by
+Mr. Godwin, of Cambridge, and is well worth perusal.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote312"></a><a href="#citation312">{312}</a>&nbsp;
+Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332, 333.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote316"></a><a href="#citation316">{316}</a>&nbsp;
+The earlier one; that of the Harleian MSS. which (Mr. Stevenson thinks)
+was twice afterwards expanded and decorated by him.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote323"></a><a href="#citation323">{323}</a>&nbsp;
+Reginald wants to make &ldquo;a wonder incredible in our own times,&rdquo;
+of a very common form (thank God) of peaceful death.&nbsp; He makes
+miracles in the same way of the catching of salmon and of otters, simple
+enough to one who, like Godric, knew the river, and every wild thing
+which haunted it.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote330"></a><a href="#citation330">{330}</a>&nbsp;
+That of the Salisbury Manual is published in the &ldquo;Ecclesiologist&rdquo;
+for August 1848, by the Rev. Sir W. H. Cope, to whom I am indebted for
+the greater number of these curious facts.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote331"></a><a href="#citation331">{331}</a>&nbsp;
+I owe these facts to the courtesy of Mr. John Stuart, of the General
+Register Office, Edinburgh.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote333"></a><a href="#citation333">{333}</a>&nbsp;
+&ldquo;History of England,&rdquo; vol. iii. p. 256, note.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
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