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diff --git a/8733-h/8733-h.htm b/8733-h/8733-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c18985d --- /dev/null +++ b/8733-h/8733-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9777 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Hermits, by Charles Kingsley</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +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.—P. 26" +title= +"St. Brendan setting Sail.—P. 26" +src="images/fps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>THE HERMITS</h1> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLES KINGSLEY</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall"><i>ILLUSTRATED</i></span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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"> </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> </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>“And having committed his sister to known +and faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith to be educated +in a nunnery,” &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>“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.</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. 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, “Thou art like a certain +flute-player in the city.”</p> +<p>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.”</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, “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.”</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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, <a name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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 “enter +religion,” or “be converted,” 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. 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.</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’s “Moines +d’Occident,” in Dean Milman’s “History of +Christianity” and “Latin Christianity,” and in +Ozanam’s “Etudes Germaniques.” <a +name="citation17a"></a><a href="#footnote17a" +class="citation">[17a]</a> 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.” <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’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, <i>naïfs</i> 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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 +“Reformed” Churches of Geneva, France, and +Scotland.</p> +<p>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.</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 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.</p> +<p>“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. 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. <a +name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24" +class="citation">[24]</a> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <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 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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. <a +name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29" +class="citation">[29]</a> 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.</p> +<p>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; <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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<blockquote><p>“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.”</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’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.</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:—</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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. 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.</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. 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. 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 <a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>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; <a +name="citation35"></a><a href="#footnote35" +class="citation">[35]</a> 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.</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. +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.”. . .</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.” <a +name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41" +class="citation">[41]</a> 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; <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. 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, <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. 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. <a +name="citation45"></a><a href="#footnote45" +class="citation">[45]</a> 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.</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. 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.” . . .</p> +<p>[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.]</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. 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.”</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, “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.</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. 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, <a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>“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, <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.” 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; <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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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 . . .</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. 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.</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. 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’ 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. . . .</p> +<p>[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of +Ammon’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’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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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> 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 <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 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. <a +name="citation66b"></a><a href="#footnote66b" +class="citation">[66b]</a> 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. <a +name="citation67"></a><a href="#footnote67" +class="citation">[67]</a> 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, <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 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.</p> +<p>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.</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, “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. . +. .</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 dæmons 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. 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.’”</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> 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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?</p> +<p>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; <a name="citation77"></a><a +href="#footnote77" class="citation">[77]</a> 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.” . . .</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>“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.”</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. 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>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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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’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.</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. 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.</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. But</p> +<blockquote><p>“To what dost thou not urge the human +breast<br /> +Curst hunger after gold?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Persisting thus he spoke, and stood there +fixed:<br /> +To whom the hero shortly thus replied.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“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?”</p> +<p>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—</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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 <a name="page92"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 92</span>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.</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, “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.</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, “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.”</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. 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.</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. 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.</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—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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.”</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 “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.</p> +<h3>SAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE “WORDS OF THE +ELDERS.”</h3> +<p>A <span class="smcap">monk</span> 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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.’”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>Quoth Antony, “There are some who keep their bodies in +abstinence: but, because they have no discretion, they are far +from God.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>Quoth Antony, “The Lord does not permit wars to arise in +this generation, because he knows that men are weak, and cannot +bear them.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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. +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.”</p> +<p>Quoth Antony, “I do not now fear God, but love Him, for +love drives out fear.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.’”</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. 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. 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, “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.</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>[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.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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 <a name="citation115"></a><a href="#footnote115" +class="citation">[115]</a> 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.</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—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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>Then, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail +for Sicily. 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’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, <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’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, “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.</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’s saying, +“Freely ye have received; freely give.”</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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, <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—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. <a name="citation119b"></a><a +href="#footnote119b" class="citation">[119b]</a> 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. Between Maleæ 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. 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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. When he +returned, and Hilarion was longing to sail again to +Egypt,—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,—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, <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 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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. 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. 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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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,</p> +<blockquote><p>“And watching from his mountain wall<br /> +The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl,”</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. 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.</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. 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. <a +name="citation130"></a><a href="#footnote130" +class="citation">[130]</a> 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 <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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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:—</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.”</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. 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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>To go on with almost chance quotations:—</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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. Abbot Paphnutius was +there, and spoke a parable to them:—</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>Then said Antony of Paphnutius, “Behold a man who can +indeed save souls.”</p> +<p>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.”</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>“Better,” said Abbot Hyperichius, “to eat +flesh and drink wine, than to eat our brethren’s flesh with +bitter words.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>“The nearer,” said Abbot Muthues, “a man +approaches God, the more he will see himself to be a +sinner.”</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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</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 “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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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</p> +<blockquote><p>“Butchered to make a Roman +holiday.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.” <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. +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.”</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—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. <a name="citation160"></a><a href="#footnote160" +class="citation">[160]</a> 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. 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.”</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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 “religious life” +was more practical than those of the solitaries of Egypt, who had +been his teachers. “It was the life” (says Dean +Milman <a name="citation163"></a><a href="#footnote163" +class="citation">[163]</a>) “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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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?</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 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.</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—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—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Although I be the basest of mankind,<br /> +From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>at the next—</p> +<blockquote><p>“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’d<br /> +My spirit flat before thee.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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—</p> +<blockquote><p> “O Lord, thou knowest what +a man I am;<br /> +A sinful man, conceived and born in sin:<br /> +’Tis their own doing; this is none of mine;<br /> +Lay it not to me. Am I to blame for this,<br /> +That here come those who worship me? 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’d and calendar’d for saints.<br /> + 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 /> + Yes, I can heal him. Power goes forth from +me.<br /> +They say that they are heal’d. Ah, hark! they +shout,<br /> +‘St. Simeon Stylites!’ Why, if so,<br /> +God reaps a harvest in me. O my soul,<br /> +God reaps a harvest in thee. If this be,<br /> +Can I work miracles, and not be saved?<br /> +This is not told of any. They were saints.<br /> +It cannot be but that I shall be saved;<br /> +Yea, crowned a saint.” . . .</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>This, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint’s own +tongue. His disciple Antony gives the story of his +conversion somewhat differently.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.</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, “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.</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. 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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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’ 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.</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. 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. 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"> </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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</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. 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.]</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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"> </div> +<p>Thus far Theodoret. Antony gives some other details of +Simeon’s life upon the column.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>Antony then goes on to relate the later years of the +saint’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, “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.</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, “whether justly or unjustly, +by him, lowly and a sinner. Wherefore all the Easterns, and +barbarous tribes in those regions, swear by Simeon.”</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. 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.”</p> +<p>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?”</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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’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.</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. 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 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </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, +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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 “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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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; <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—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.</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. 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. 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. 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.</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. 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.</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 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.</p> +<p>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 <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. 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.</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—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.</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. 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.” <a name="citation209"></a><a href="#footnote209" +class="citation">[209]</a> 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<a name="citation210"></a><a href="#footnote210" +class="citation">[210]</a> (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.</p> +<p>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>i.e.</i> 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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>Some of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus, +riding and then slaying the crocodile. It did not +happen. Abbot Ammon <a name="citation212a"></a><a +href="#footnote212a" class="citation">[212a]</a> did not make two +dragons guard his cell against robbers. 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’s +stead. 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. 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. <a +name="citation212d"></a><a href="#footnote212d" +class="citation">[212d]</a> 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—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.”</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. 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—</p> +<blockquote><p>“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.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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?</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—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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “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> “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 branchèd +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> “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 style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p> “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 forgèd shews, as fitter been<br +/> + For courting fools that courtesies would feign,<br +/> +But with entire affection and appearance plain.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</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> “For he right well in leech’s +craft was seen;<br /> + And through the long experience of his days,<br /> + Which had in many fortunes tossèd 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> “For whilome he had been a doughty +knight,<br /> + As any one that livèd in his days,<br /> + And provèd 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’s unquiet ways,<br /> + He took himself unto this hermitage,<br /> +In which he lived alone like careless bird in cage.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.</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 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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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—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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</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 +“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.</p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +“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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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. <a +name="citation238"></a><a href="#footnote238" +class="citation">[238]</a> 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.</p> +<p>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 <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—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.</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. 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.”</p> +<p>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 <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>“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.”</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 “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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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 <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,—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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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 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.</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. 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. 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. +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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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; <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 +“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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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’ 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.”</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> 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.</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. 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.</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 “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.”</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> 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.</p> +<p>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?”</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. 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. 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?”</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. 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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, “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.”</p> +<p>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.</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, “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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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.</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’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; <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. 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. 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> 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.</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. 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.” <a +name="citation272"></a><a href="#footnote272" +class="citation">[272]</a></p> +<p>“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.</p> +<p>“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.”</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. 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. <a name="citation274"></a><a href="#footnote274" +class="citation">[274]</a> 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.”</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.”</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. 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.</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. After which he ended his life in peace. +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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. +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.</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. 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.” <a +name="citation283"></a><a href="#footnote283" +class="citation">[283]</a> 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, <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,—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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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, <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. 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.</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. 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>i.e.</i> 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.” <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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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. 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’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. <a +name="citation292"></a><a href="#footnote292" +class="citation">[292]</a> 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 “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.”</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. 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 <i>pelecanus</i>, 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>Hic jacet in fossâ<br /> +Bedæ 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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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?”</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. 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.</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 +(“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.</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—“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.”</p> +<p>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?”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</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. 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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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.</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—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; <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 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.</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’ 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.</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. 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 (<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:”—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?</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>“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.</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. 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. 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.</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’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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“—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.”</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. 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.</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’ 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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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.</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. 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. 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: <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—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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>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.</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. 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>protégé</i> 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.</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. I quote it at +length from Burton’s “Monasticon Eboracense,” +p. 78, knowing no other authority.</p> +<p>“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, <i>Out on you</i>, +<i>out on you</i>, <i>out on you</i>, 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, <span +class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 1160, upon whose soul God have +mercy. Amen.”</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 +“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. <a +name="citation330"></a><a href="#footnote330" +class="citation">[330]</a> 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.</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—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.</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. 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.</p> +<p>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, <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. 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.”</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. 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.</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, “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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>The following books should be consulted by those who wish to +follow out this curious subject in detail:—</p> +<p>The “Vitæ Patrum Eremiticorum.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>M. de Montalembert’s “Moines +d’Occident,” and Ozanam’s “Etudes +Germaniques,” may be read with much profit.</p> +<p>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.</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> About <span +class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 368. See the details in +Ammianus Marcellinus, lib. xxviii.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17a"></a><a href="#citation17a" +class="footnote">[17a]</a> 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> “Vitæ +Patrum.” Published at Antwerp, 1628.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23" +class="footnote">[23]</a> He is addressing our Lord.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24" +class="footnote">[24]</a> “Agentes in +rebus.” On the Emperor’s staff?</p> +<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27" +class="footnote">[27]</a> St. Augustine says, that +Potitianus’s adventure at Trêves happened “I +know not when.” 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. He does not mention the name of Potitianus’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 Trêves +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> See the excellent article on +Gratian in Smith’s Dictionary, by Mr. Means.</p> +<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30" +class="footnote">[30]</a> 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> I use throughout the text +published by Heschelius, in 1611.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> 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> Seemingly the Greek language and +literature.</p> +<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35" +class="footnote">[35]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41" +class="footnote">[41]</a> I give this passage as it stands +in the Greek version. 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> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> Here is an instance of the +original use of the word “monastery,” viz. a cell in +which a single person dwelt.</p> +<p><a name="footnote45"></a><a href="#citation45" +class="footnote">[45]</a> An allusion to the heathen +mysteries.</p> +<p><a name="footnote49"></a><a href="#citation49" +class="footnote">[49]</a> <span +class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote52a"></a><a href="#citation52a" +class="footnote">[52a]</a> The lonely alluvial flats at the +mouths of the Nile. “Below the cliffs, beside the +sea,” as one describes them.</p> +<p><a name="footnote52b"></a><a href="#citation52b" +class="footnote">[52b]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> This most famous monastery, +<i>i.e.</i> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote65"></a><a href="#citation65" +class="footnote">[65]</a> 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> 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.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote66b"></a><a href="#citation66b" +class="footnote">[66b]</a> 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, <span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> +325.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67"></a><a href="#citation67" +class="footnote">[67]</a> 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> <i>I.e.</i> those who were still +heathens.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68b"></a><a href="#citation68b" +class="footnote">[68b]</a> +ἰερεύς. The Christian +priest is always called in this work simply +πρεσθύτερος, +or elder.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72a"></a><a href="#citation72a" +class="footnote">[72a]</a> 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. Athanasius meanwhile fled to Rome.</p> +<p><a name="footnote72b"></a><a href="#citation72b" +class="footnote">[72b]</a> <i>I.e.</i> celebrated there +their own Communion.</p> +<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77" +class="footnote">[77]</a> Evidently the primæval +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> 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> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote116"></a><a href="#citation116" +class="footnote">[116]</a> 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> 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.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote117b"></a><a href="#citation117b" +class="footnote">[117b]</a> The southern point of Sicily, +now Cape Passaro.</p> +<p><a name="footnote118"></a><a href="#citation118" +class="footnote">[118]</a> In the Morea, near the modern +Navarino.</p> +<p><a name="footnote119a"></a><a href="#citation119a" +class="footnote">[119a]</a> At the mouth of the Bay of +Cattaro.</p> +<p><a name="footnote119b"></a><a href="#citation119b" +class="footnote">[119b]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote121"></a><a href="#citation121" +class="footnote">[121]</a> 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> See p. <span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page52">52</a></span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote123b"></a><a href="#citation123b" +class="footnote">[123b]</a> Probably dedicated to the +Paphian Venus.</p> +<p><a name="footnote130"></a><a href="#citation130" +class="footnote">[130]</a> 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> 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> Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv. +cap. 9.</p> +<p><a name="footnote160"></a><a href="#citation160" +class="footnote">[160]</a> By Dr. Burgess.</p> +<p><a name="footnote163"></a><a href="#citation163" +class="footnote">[163]</a> History of Christianity, vol. +iii. p. 109.</p> +<p><a name="footnote203"></a><a href="#citation203" +class="footnote">[203]</a> An authentic fact.</p> +<p><a name="footnote204"></a><a href="#citation204" +class="footnote">[204]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote209"></a><a href="#citation209" +class="footnote">[209]</a> Les Moines d’Occident, +vol. ii. pp. 332–467.</p> +<p><a name="footnote210"></a><a href="#citation210" +class="footnote">[210]</a> M. La Borderie, “Discours +sur les Saints Bretons;” a work which I have unfortunately +not been able to consult.</p> +<p><a name="footnote212a"></a><a href="#citation212a" +class="footnote">[212a]</a> Vitæ Patrum, p. 753.</p> +<p><a name="footnote212b"></a><a href="#citation212b" +class="footnote">[212b]</a> Ibid. p. 893.</p> +<p><a name="footnote212c"></a><a href="#citation212c" +class="footnote">[212c]</a> Ibid. p. 539.</p> +<p><a name="footnote212d"></a><a href="#citation212d" +class="footnote">[212d]</a> Ibid. p. 540.</p> +<p><a name="footnote212e"></a><a href="#citation212e" +class="footnote">[212e]</a> Ibid. p. 532.</p> +<p><a name="footnote224"></a><a href="#citation224" +class="footnote">[224]</a> 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> Scriptores Austriacarum +Rerum.</p> +<p><a name="footnote245"></a><a href="#citation245" +class="footnote">[245]</a> Hæften, quoted by +Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.</p> +<p><a name="footnote256"></a><a href="#citation256" +class="footnote">[256]</a> Dr. Reeves supposes these to +have been “crustacea:” but their stinging and +clinging prove them surely to have been +jelly-fish—medusæ.</p> +<p><a name="footnote257"></a><a href="#citation257" +class="footnote">[257]</a> 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 +<i>brochure</i> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote260a"></a><a href="#citation260a" +class="footnote">[260a]</a> In the Barony of Longford, +County Galway.</p> +<p><a name="footnote260b"></a><a href="#citation260b" +class="footnote">[260b]</a> 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> Some dim legend concerning +icebergs, and caves therein.</p> +<p><a name="footnote270"></a><a href="#citation270" +class="footnote">[270]</a> Probably from reports of the +volcanic coast of Iceland.</p> +<p><a name="footnote272"></a><a href="#citation272" +class="footnote">[272]</a> 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:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Here I may see what it is to give other +men’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.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.”</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote274"></a><a href="#citation274" +class="footnote">[274]</a> Copied, surely, from the life of +Paul the first hermit.</p> +<p><a name="footnote283"></a><a href="#citation283" +class="footnote">[283]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote290"></a><a href="#citation290" +class="footnote">[290]</a> Bede, book iii. cap. 3.</p> +<p><a name="footnote292"></a><a href="#citation292" +class="footnote">[292]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote299"></a><a href="#citation299" +class="footnote">[299]</a> “In this hole lie the +bones of the Venerable Bede.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote303"></a><a href="#citation303" +class="footnote">[303]</a> 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> Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332, +333.</p> +<p><a name="footnote316"></a><a href="#citation316" +class="footnote">[316]</a> 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> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote330"></a><a href="#citation330" +class="footnote">[330]</a> 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.</p> +<p><a name="footnote331"></a><a href="#citation331" +class="footnote">[331]</a> 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> “History of +England,” vol. iii. p. 256, note.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HERMITS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 8733-h.htm or 8733-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/7/3/8733 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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