{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8733/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8733","id":"gutenberg_8733","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8733","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Ancient","Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Hermits"],"text":"Transcribed from the 1891 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n                [Picture: St. Brendan setting Sail.\u2014P. 26]\n\n\n\n\n\n                               THE HERMITS\n\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                    BY\n                             CHARLES KINGSLEY\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                              _ILLUSTRATED_\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                  London\n                            MACMILLAN AND CO.\n                               AND NEW YORK\n                                   1891\n\n                  _The Right of Translation is Reserved_\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                     RICHARD CLAY AND SONS, LIMITED,\n                            LONDON AND BUNGAY.\n\n                      _First printed in parts_ 1868.\n\n _Reprinted in_ 1 _Volume_, _Crown_ 8_vo._ 1871, 1875, 1880, 1885, 1890,\n                                  1891.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n                                                  PAGE\nINTRODUCTION                                         1\nSAINT ANTONY                                        21\nTHE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT            83\nHILARION                                           104\nARSENIUS                                           149\nTHE HERMITS OF ASIA                                155\nBASIL                                              162\nSIMEON STYLITES                                    167\nTHE HERMITS OF EUROPE                              219\nST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM              224\nTHE CELTIC HERMITS                                 246\nST. MALO                                           278\nST. COLUMBA                                        282\nST. GUTHLAC                                        300\nST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE                             309\nANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED                     329\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS\n\nST. BRENDAN SETTING SAIL                                _Frontispiece_\nLIFE OF ST. ANTHONY                                       _To face_ 35\n\n    \u201cAnd having committed his sister to known and\n    faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith\n    to be educated in a nunnery,\u201d &c.\nPAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT                                    _To face_ 92\n\n    \u201cFor entering the cave he saw, with bended\n    knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on\n    high, a lifeless corpse.  And at first,\n    thinking that it still lived,\u201d &c.\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\nST. PAPHNUTIUS used to tell a story which may serve as a fit introduction\nto this book.  It contains a miniature sketch, not only of the social\nstate of Egypt, but of the whole Roman Empire, and of the causes which\nled to the famous monastic movement in the beginning of the fifth century\nafter Christ.\n\nNow Paphnutius was a wise and holy hermit, the Father, Abba, or Abbot of\nmany monks; and after he had trained himself in the desert with all\nseverity for many years, he besought God to show him which of His saints\nhe was like.\n\nAnd it was said to him, \u201cThou art like a certain flute-player in the\ncity.\u201d\n\nThen Paphnutius took his staff, and went into the city, and found that\nflute-player.  But he confessed that he was a drunkard and a profligate,\nand had till lately got his living by robbery, and recollected not having\never done one good deed.  Nevertheless, when Paphnutius questioned him\nmore closely, he said that he recollected once having found a holy maiden\nbeset by robbers, and having delivered her, and brought her safe to town.\nAnd when Paphnutius questioned him more closely still, he said he\nrecollected having done another deed.  When he was a robber, he met once\nin the desert a beautiful woman; and she prayed him to do her no harm,\nbut to take her away with him as a slave, whither he would; for, said\nshe, \u201cI am fleeing from the apparitors and the Governor\u2019s curials for the\nlast two years.  My husband has been imprisoned for 300 pieces of gold,\nwhich he owes as arrears of taxes; and has been often hung up, and often\nscourged; and my three dear boys have been taken from me; and I am\nwandering from place to place, and have been often caught myself and\ncontinually scourged; and now I have been in the desert three days\nwithout food.\u201d\n\nAnd when the robber heard that, he took pity on her, and took her to his\ncave, and gave her 300 pieces of gold, and went with her to the city, and\nset her husband and her boys free.\n\nThen Paphnutius said, \u201cI never did a deed like that: and yet I have not\npassed my life in ease and idleness.  But now, my son, since God hath had\nsuch care of thee, have a care for thine own self.\u201d\n\nAnd when the musician heard that, he threw away the flutes which he held\nin his hand, and went with Paphnutius into the desert, and passed his\nlife in hymns and prayer, changing his earthly music into heavenly; and\nafter three years he went to heaven, and was at rest among the choirs of\nangels, and the ranks of the just.\n\nThis story, as I said, is a miniature sketch of the state of the whole\nRoman Empire, and of the causes why men fled from it into the desert.\nChristianity had reformed the morals of individuals; it had not reformed\nthe Empire itself.  That had sunk into a state only to be compared with\nthe worst despotisms of the East.  The Emperors, whether or not they\ncalled themselves Christian, like Constantine, knew no law save the\nbasest maxims of the heathen world.  Several of them were barbarians who\nhad risen from the lowest rank merely by military prowess; and who, half\nmaddened by their sudden elevation, added to their native ignorance and\nbrutality the pride, cunning, and cruelty of an Eastern Sultan.  Rival\nEmperors, or Generals who aspired to be Emperors, devastated the world\nfrom Egypt to Britain by sanguinary civil wars.  The government of the\nprovinces had become altogether military.  Torture was employed, not\nmerely, as of old, against slaves, but against all ranks, without\ndistinction.  The people were exhausted by compulsory taxes, to be spent\nin wars which did not concern them, or in Court luxury in which they had\nno share.  In the municipal towns, liberty and justice were dead.  The\ncurials, who answered somewhat to our aldermen, and who were responsible\nfor the payment of the public moneys, tried their best to escape the\nunpopular office, and, when compelled to serve, wrung the money in\nself-defence out of the poorer inhabitants by every kind of tyranny.  The\nland was tilled either by oppressed and miserable peasants, or by gangs\nof slaves, in comparison with whose lot that even of the American negro\nwas light.  The great were served in their own households by crowds of\nslaves, better fed, doubtless, but even more miserable and degraded, than\nthose who tilled the estates.  Private profligacy among all ranks was\nsuch as cannot be described in these or in any modern pages.  The regular\nclergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and for the most\npart, in accordance with public opinion, unmarried, were able to make no\nstand against the general corruption of the age, because\u2014at least if we\nare to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom\u2014they were giving\nthemselves up to ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury, intrigue and\nparty spirit, and had become the flatterers of fine ladies, \u201csilly women\nladen with sins, ever learning, and never coming to the knowledge of the\ntruth.\u201d  Such a state of things not only drove poor creatures into the\ndesert, like that fair woman whom the robber met, but it raised up bands\nof robbers over the whole of Europe, Africa, and the East,\u2014men who, like\nRobin Hood and the outlaws of the Middle Age, getting no justice from\nman, broke loose from society, and while they plundered their oppressors,\nkept up some sort of rude justice and humanity among themselves.  Many,\ntoo, fled, and became robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which\ncarried off from every province the flower of the young men, to shed\ntheir blood on foreign battle-fields.  In time, too, many of these\nconscripts became monks, and the great monasteries of Scetis and Nitria\nwere hunted over again and again by officers and soldiers from the\nneighbouring city of Alexandria in search of young men who had entered\nthe \u201cspiritual warfare\u201d to escape the earthly one.  And as a background\nto all this seething heap of decay, misrule, and misery, hung the black\ncloud of the barbarians, the Teutonic tribes from whom we derive the best\npart of our blood, ever coming nearer and nearer, waxing stronger and\nstronger, learning discipline and civilization by serving in the Roman\narmies, alternately the allies and the enemies of the Emperors, rising,\nsome of them, to the highest offices of State, and destined, so the\nwisest Romans saw all the more clearly as the years rolled on, to be soon\nthe conquerors of the C\u00e6sars, and the masters of the Western world.\n\nNo wonder if that, in such a state of things, there arose such violent\ncontrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric protests against the\ngeneral wickedness, as may be seen in the figure of Abbot Paphnutius,\nwhen compared either with the poor man tortured in prison for his arrears\nof taxes, or with the Governor and the officials who tortured him.  No\nwonder if, in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a\npassion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of suicide.\nIt would have ended often, but for Christianity, in such an actual\ndespair as that which had led in past ages more than one noble Roman to\nslay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic.  Christianity\ntaught those who despaired of society, of the world\u2014in one word, of the\nRoman Empire, and all that it had done for men\u2014to hope at least for a\nkingdom of God after death.  It taught those who, had they been heathens\nand brave enough, would have slain themselves to escape out of a world\nwhich was no place for honest men, that the body must be kept alive, if\nfor no other reason, at least for the sake of the immortal soul, doomed,\naccording to its works, to endless bliss or endless torment.\n\nBut that the world\u2014such, at least, as they saw it then\u2014was doomed,\nScripture and their own reason taught them.  They did not merely believe,\nbut see, in the misery and confusion, the desolation and degradation\naround them, that all that was in the world, the lust of the flesh, the\nlust of the eye, and the pride of life, was not of the Father, but of the\nworld; that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and that\nonly he who did the will of God could abide for ever.  They did not\nmerely believe, but saw, that the wrath of God was revealed from heaven\nagainst all unrighteousness of men; and that the world in general\u2014above\nall, its kings and rulers, the rich and luxurious\u2014were treasuring up for\nthemselves wrath, tribulation, and anguish, against a day of wrath and\nrevelation of the righteous judgment of God, who would render to every\nman according to his works.\n\nThat they were correct in their judgment of the world about them,\ncontemporary history proves abundantly.  That they were correct,\nlikewise, in believing that some fearful judgment was about to fall on\nman, is proved by the fact that it did fall; that the first half of the\nfifth century saw, not only the sack of Rome, but the conquest and\ndesolation of the greater part of the civilized world, amid bloodshed,\nmisery, and misrule, which seemed to turn Europe into a chaos,\u2014which\nwould have turned it into a chaos, had there not been a few men left who\nstill felt it possible and necessary to believe in God and to work\nrighteousness.\n\nUnder these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed world,\nand try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save each man\nhis own soul in that dread day.\n\nOthers, not Christians, had done the same before them.  Among all the\nEastern nations men had appeared, from time to time, to whom the things\nseen were but a passing phantom, the things unseen the only true and\neternal realities; who, tormented alike by the awfulness of the infinite\nunknown, and by the petty cares and low passions of the finite mortal\nlife which they knew but too well, had determined to renounce the latter,\nthat they might give themselves up to solving the riddle of the former;\nand be at peace; and free, at least, from the tyranny of their own\nselves.  Eight hundred years before St. Antony fled into the desert, that\nyoung Hindoo rajah, whom men call Buddha now, had fled into the forest,\nleaving wives and kingdom, to find rest for his soul.  He denounced\ncaste; he preached poverty, asceticism, self-annihilation.  He founded a\nreligion, like that of the old hermits, democratic and ascetic, with its\nconvents, saint-worships, pilgrimages, miraculous relics, rosaries, and\nmuch more, which strangely anticipates the monastic religion; and his\nfollowers, to this day, are more numerous than those of any other creed.\n\nBrahmins, too, had given themselves up to penance and mortification till\nthey believed themselves able, like Kehama, to have gained by\nself-torture the right to command, not nature merely, but the gods\nthemselves.  Among the Jews the Essenes by the Dead Sea, and the\nTherapeut\u00e6 in Egypt, had formed ascetic communities, the former more\n\u201cpractical,\u201d the latter more \u201ccontemplative:\u201d but both alike agreed in\nthe purpose of escaping from the world into a life of poverty and\nsimplicity, piety and virtue; and among the countless philosophic sects\nof Asia, known to ecclesiastical writers as \u201cheretics,\u201d more than one had\nprofessed, and doubtless often practised, the same abstraction from the\nworld, the same contempt of the flesh.  The very Neo-Platonists of\nAlexandria, while they derided the Christian asceticism, found themselves\nforced to affect, like the hapless Hypatia, a sentimental and pharisaic\nasceticism of their own.  This phase of sight and feeling, so strange to\nus now, was common, nay, prim\u00e6val, among the Easterns.  The day was come\nwhen it should pass from the East into the West.  And Egypt, \u201cthe mother\nof wonders;\u201d the parent of so much civilization and philosophy both Greek\nand Roman; the half-way resting-place through which not merely the\nmerchandise, but the wisdom of the East had for centuries passed into the\nRoman Empire; a land more ill-governed, too, and more miserable, in spite\nof its fertility, because more defenceless and effeminate, than most\nother Roman possessions\u2014was the country in which naturally, and as it\nwere of hereditary right, such a movement would first appear.\n\nAccordingly it was discovered, about the end of the fourth century, that\nthe mountains and deserts of Egypt were full of Christian men who had\nfled out of the dying world, in the hope of attaining everlasting life.\nWonderful things were told of their courage, their abstinence, their\nmiracles: and of their virtues also; of their purity, their humility,\ntheir helpfulness, and charity to each other and to all.  They called\neach other, it was said, brothers; and they lived up to that sacred name,\nforgotten, if ever known, by the rest of the Roman Empire.  Like the\nApostolic Christians in the first fervour of their conversion, they had\nall things in common; they lived at peace with each other, under a mild\nand charitable rule; and kept literally those commands of Christ which\nall the rest of the world explained away to nothing.\n\nThe news spread.  It chimed in with all that was best, as well as with\nmuch that was questionable, in the public mind.  That men could be\nbrothers; that they could live without the tawdry luxury, the tasteless\nand often brutal amusements, the low sensuality, the base intrigue, the\nbloody warfare, which was the accepted lot of the many; that they could\nfind time to look stedfastly at heaven and hell as awful realities, which\nmust be faced some day, which had best be faced at once; this, just as\nmuch as curiosity about their alleged miracles, and the selfish longing\nto rival them in superhuman powers, led many of the most virtuous and the\nmost learned men of the time to visit them, and ascertain the truth.\nJerome, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Sulpicius Severus, went to see them,\nundergoing on the way the severest toils and dangers, and brought back\nreports of mingled truth and falsehood, specimens of which will be seen\nin these pages.  Travelling in those days was a labour, if not of\nnecessity, then surely of love.  Palladius, for instance, found it\nimpossible to visit the Upper Thebaid, and Syene, and that \u201cinfinite\nmultitude of monks, whose fashions of life no one would believe, for they\nsurpass human life; who to this day raise the dead, and walk upon the\nwaters, like Peter; and whatsoever the Saviour did by the holy Apostles,\nHe does now by them.  But because it would be very dangerous if we went\nbeyond Lyco\u201d (Lycopolis?), on account of the inroad of robbers, he \u201ccould\nnot see those saints.\u201d\n\nThe holy men and women of whom he wrote, he says, he did not see without\nextreme toil; and seven times he and his companions were nearly lost.\nOnce they walked through the desert five days and nights, and were almost\nworn out by hunger and thirst.  Again, they fell on rough marshes, where\nthe sedge pierced their feet, and caused intolerable pain, while they\nwere almost killed with the cold.  Another time, they stuck in the mud up\nto their waists, and cried with David, \u201cI am come into deep mire, where\nno ground is.\u201d  Another time, they waded for four days through the flood\nof the Nile by paths almost swept away.  Another time they met robbers on\nthe seashore, coming to Diolcos, and were chased by them for ten miles.\nAnother time they were all but upset and drowned in crossing the Nile.\nAnother time, in the marshes of Mareotis, \u201cwhere paper grows,\u201d they were\ncast on a little desert island, and remained three days and nights in the\nopen air, amid great cold and showers, for it was the season of Epiphany.\nThe eighth peril, he says, is hardly worth mentioning\u2014but once, when they\nwent to Nitria, they came on a great hollow, in which many crocodiles had\nremained, when the waters retired from the fields.  Three of them lay\nalong the bank; and the monks went up to them, thinking them dead,\nwhereon the crocodiles rushed at them.  But when they called loudly on\nthe Lord, \u201cthe monsters, as if turned away by an angel,\u201d shot themselves\ninto the water; while they ran on to Nitria, meditating on the words of\nJob, \u201cSeven times shall He deliver thee from trouble; and in the eighth\nthere shall no evil touch thee.\u201d\n\nThe great St. Athanasius, fleeing from persecution, had taken refuge\namong these monks.  He carried the report of their virtues to Tr\u00eaves in\nGaul, and wrote a life of St. Antony, the perusal of which was a main\nagent in the conversion of St. Augustine.  Hilarion (a remarkable\npersonage, whose history will be told hereafter) carried their report and\ntheir example likewise into Palestine; and from that time Jud\u00e6a, desolate\nand seemingly accursed by the sin of the Jewish people, became once more\nthe Holy Land; the place of pilgrimage; whose ruins, whose very soil,\nwere kept sacred by hermits, the guardians of the footsteps of Christ.\n\nIn Rome itself the news produced an effect which, to the thoughtful mind,\nis altogether tragical in its nobleness.  The Roman aristocracy was\ndeprived of all political power; it had been decimated, too, with\nhorrible cruelty only one generation before, {12} by Valentinian and his\nsatellites, on the charges of profligacy, treason, and magic.  Mere rich\nmen, they still lingered on, in idleness and luxury, without art,\nscience, true civilization of any kind; followed by long trains of\nslaves; punishing a servant with three hundred stripes if he were too\nlong in bringing hot water; weighing the fish, or birds, or dormice put\non their tables, while secretaries stood by, with tablets to record all;\nhating learning as they hated poison; indulging at the baths in conduct\nwhich had best be left undescribed; and \u201ccomplaining that they were not\nborn among the Cimmerians, if amid their golden fans a fly should perch\nupon the silken fringes, or a slender ray of the sun should pierce\nthrough the awning;\u201d while, if they \u201cgo any distance to see their estates\nin the country, or to hunt at a meeting collected for their amusement by\nothers, they think that they have equalled the marches of Alexander or of\nC\u00e6sar.\u201d\n\nOn the wives, widows, and daughters of men of this stamp\u2014and not half\ntheir effeminacy and baseness, as the honest rough old soldier Ammianus\nMarcellinus describes it, has been told here\u2014the news brought from Egypt\nworked with wondrous potency.\n\nWomen of the highest rank awoke suddenly to the discovery that life was\ngiven them for nobler purposes than that of frivolous enjoyment and\ntawdry vanity.  Despising themselves; despising the husbands to whom they\nhad been wedded in loveless marriages _de convenance_, whose infidelities\nthey had too often to endure: they, too, fled from a world which had\nsated and sickened them.  They freed their slaves; they gave away their\nwealth to found hospitals and to feed the poor; and in voluntary poverty\nand mean garments they followed such men as Jerome and Ruffinus across\nthe seas, to visit the new found saints of the Egyptian desert, and to\nend their days, in some cases, in doleful monasteries in Palestine.  The\nlives of such women as those of the Anician house; the lives of Marcella\nand Furia, of Paula, of the Melanias, and the rest, it is not my task to\nwrite.  They must be told by a woman, not by a man.  We may blame those\nladies, if we will, for neglecting their duties.  We may sneer, if we\nwill, at the weaknesses\u2014the aristocratic pride, the spiritual\nvanity\u2014which we fancy that we discover.  We may lament\u2014and in that we\nshall not be wrong\u2014the influence which such men as Jerome obtained over\nthem\u2014the example and precursor of so much which has since then been\nruinous to family and social life: but we must confess that the fault lay\nnot with the themselves, but with their fathers, husbands, and brothers;\nwe must confess that in these women the spirit of the old Roman matrons,\nwhich seemed to have been so long dead, flashed up for one splendid\nmoment, ere it sunk into the darkness of the Middle Age; that in them\nwoman asserted (however strangely and fantastically) her moral equality\nwith man; and that at the very moment when monasticism was consigning her\nto contempt, almost to abhorrence, as \u201cthe noxious animal,\u201d the \u201cfragile\nvessel,\u201d the cause of man\u2019s fall at first, and of his sin and misery ever\nsince, woman showed the monk (to his na\u00efvely-confessed surprise), that\nshe could dare, and suffer, and adore as well as he.\n\nBut the movement, having once seized the Roman Empire, grew and spread\nirresistibly.  It was accepted, supported, preached, practised, by every\ngreat man of the time.  Athanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, Gregory of\nNazianzen in the East, Jerome, Augustine, Ruffinus, Evagrius, Fulgentius,\nSulpicius Severus, Vincent of Lerins, John Cassian, Martin of Tours,\nSalvian, C\u00e6sarius of Arles, were all monks, or as much of monks as their\nduties would allow them to be.  Ambrose of Milan, though no monk himself,\nwas the fervent preacher of, the careful legislator for, monasticism male\nand female.  Throughout the whole Roman Empire, in the course of a\ncentury, had spread hermits (or dwellers in the desert), anchorites\n(retired from the world), or monks (dwellers alone).  The three names\ngrew afterwards to designate three different orders of ascetics.  The\nhermits remained through the Middle Ages those who dwelt in deserts; the\nanchorites, or \u201cankers\u201d of the English Middle Age, seem generally to have\ninhabited cells built in, or near, the church walls; the name of \u201cmonks\u201d\nwas transferred from those who dwelt alone to those who dwelt in regular\ncommunities, under a fixed government.  But the three names at first were\ninterchangeable; the three modes of life alternated, often in the same\nman.  The life of all three was the same,\u2014celibacy, poverty, good deeds\ntowards their fellow-men; self-restraint, and sometimes self-torture of\nevery kind, to atone (as far as might be) for the sins committed after\nbaptism: and the mental food of all three was the same likewise;\ncontinued meditation upon the vanity of the world, the sinfulness of the\nflesh, the glories of heaven, and the horrors of hell: but with these the\nold hermits combined\u2014to do them justice\u2014a personal faith in God, and a\npersonal love for Christ, which those who sneer at them would do well to\ncopy.\n\nOver all Europe, even to Ireland, {15} the same pattern of Christian\nexcellence repeated itself with strange regularity, till it became the\nonly received pattern; and to \u201center religion,\u201d or \u201cbe converted,\u201d meant\nsimply to become a monk.\n\nOf the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few specimens are\ngiven in this volume.  If they shall seem to any reader uncouth, or even\nabsurd, he must remember that they are the only existing and the\ngenerally contemporaneous histories of men who exercised for 1,300 years\nan enormous influence over the whole of Christendom; who exercise a vast\ninfluence over the greater part of it to this day.  They are the\nbiographies of men who were regarded, during their lives and after their\ndeaths, as divine and inspired prophets; and who were worshipped with\nboundless trust and admiration by millions of human beings.  Their fame\nand power were not created by the priesthood.  The priesthood rather\nleant on them, than they on it.  They occupied a post analogous to that\nof the old Jewish prophets; always independent of, sometimes opposed to,\nthe regular clergy; and dependent altogether on public opinion and the\nsuffrage of the multitude.  When Christianity, after three centuries of\nrepression and persecution, emerged triumphant as the creed of the whole\ncivilized world, it had become what their lives describe.  The model of\nreligious life for the fifth century, it remained a model for succeeding\ncenturies; on the lives of St. Antony and his compeers were founded the\nwhole literature of saintly biographies; the whole popular conception of\nthe universe, and of man\u2019s relation to it; the whole science of\nd\u00e6monology, with its peculiar literature, its peculiar system of criminal\njurisprudence.  And their influence did not cease at the Reformation\namong Protestant divines.  The influence of these Lives of the Hermit\nFathers is as much traceable, even to style and language, in \u201cThe\nPilgrim\u2019s Progress\u201d as in the last Papal Allocution.  The great hermits\nof Egypt were not merely the founders of that vast monastic system which\ninfluenced the whole politics, and wars, and social life, as well as the\nwhole religion, of the Middle Age; they were a school of philosophers (as\nthey rightly called themselves) who altered the whole current of human\nthought.\n\nThose who wish for a general notion of the men, and of their time, will\nfind all that they require (set forth from different points of view,\nthough with the same honesty and learning) in Gibbon; in M. de\nMontalembert\u2019s \u201cMoines d\u2019Occident,\u201d in Dean Milman\u2019s \u201cHistory of\nChristianity\u201d and \u201cLatin Christianity,\u201d and in Ozanam\u2019s \u201cEtudes\nGermaniques.\u201d {17a}  But the truest notion of the men is to be got, after\nall, from the original documents; and especially from that curious\ncollection of them by the Jesuit Rosweyde, commonly known as the \u201cLives\nof the Hermit Fathers.\u201d {17b}\n\nAfter an acquaintance of now five-and-twenty years with this wonderful\ntreasury of early Christian mythology, to which all fairy tales are dull\nand meagre, I am almost inclined to sympathise with M. de Montalembert\u2019s\nquestions,\u2014\u201cWho is so ignorant, or so unfortunate, as not to have\ndevoured these tales of the heroic age of monachism?  Who has not\ncontemplated, if not with the eyes of faith, at least with the admiration\ninspired by an incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles of these\nathletes of penitence? . . . .  Everything is to be found there\u2014variety,\npathos, the sublime and simple epic of a race of men, _na\u00effs_ as\nchildren, and strong as giants.\u201d  In whatever else one may differ from M.\nde Montalembert\u2014and it is always painful to differ from one whose pen has\nbeen always the faithful servant of virtue and piety, purity and\nchivalry, loyalty and liberty, and whose generous appreciation of England\nand the English is the more honourable to him, by reason of an utter\ndivergence in opinion, which in less wide and noble spirits produces only\nantipathy\u2014one must at least agree with him in his estimate of the\nimportance of these \u201cLives of the Fathers,\u201d not only to the\necclesiologist, but to the psychologist and the historian.  Their\ninfluence, subtle, often transformed and modified again and again, but\nstill potent from its very subtleness, is being felt around us in many a\npuzzle\u2014educational, social, political; and promises to be felt still more\nduring the coming generation; and to have studied thoroughly one of\nthem\u2014say the life of St. Antony by St. Athanasius\u2014is to have had in our\nhands (whether we knew it or not) the key to many a lock, which just now\nrefuses either to be tampered with or burst open.\n\nI have determined, therefore, to give a few of these lives, translated as\nliterally as possible.  Thus the reader will then have no reason to fear\na garbled or partial account of personages so difficult to conceive or\nunderstand.  He will be able to see the men as wholes; to judge\n(according to his light) of their merits and their defects.  The very\nstyle of their biographers (which is copied as literally as is compatible\nwith the English tongue) will teach him, if he be wise, somewhat of the\ntemper and habits of thought of the age in which they lived; and one of\nthese original documents, with its honesty, its vivid touches of\ncontemporary manners, its intense earnestness, will give, perhaps, a more\ntrue picture of the whole hermit movement than (with all respect, be it\nsaid) the most brilliant general panorama.\n\nIt is impossible to give in this series all the lives of the early\nhermits\u2014even of those contained in Rosweyde.  This volume will contain,\ntherefore, only the most important and most famous lives of the Egyptian,\nSyrian, and Persian hermits, followed, perhaps, by a few later\nbiographies from Western Europe, as proofs that the hermit-type, as it\nspread toward the Atlantic, remained still the same as in the Egyptian\ndesert.\n\nAgainst one modern mistake the reader must be warned; the theory, namely,\nthat these biographies were written as religious romances; edifying, but\nnot historical; to be admired, but not believed.  There is not the\nslightest evidence that such was the case.  The lives of these, and most\nother saints (certainly those in this volume), were written by men who\nbelieved the stories themselves, after such inquiry into the facts as\nthey deemed necessary; who knew that others would believe them; and who\nintended that they should do so; and the stones were believed\naccordingly, and taken as matter of fact for the most practical purposes\nby the whole of Christendom.  The forging of miracles, like the forging\nof charters, for the honour of a particular shrine, or the advantage of a\nparticular monastery, belongs to a much later and much worse age; and,\nwhatsoever we may think of the taste of the authors of these lives, or of\ntheir faculty for judging of evidence, we must at least give them credit\nfor being earnest men, incapable of what would have been in their eyes,\nand ought to be in ours, not merely falsehood, but impiety.  Let the\nreader be sure of this\u2014that these documents would not have exercised\ntheir enormous influence on the human mind, had there not been in them,\nunder whatever accidents of credulity, and even absurdity, an element of\nsincerity, virtue, and nobility.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT ANTONY\n\n\nTHE life of Antony, by Athanasius, is perhaps the most important of all\nthese biographies; because first, Antony was generally held to be the\nfirst great example and preacher of the hermit life; because next,\nAthanasius, his biographer, having by his controversial writings\nestablished the orthodox faith as it is now held alike by Romanists,\nGreeks, and Protestants, did, by his publication of the life of Antony,\nestablish the hermit life as the ideal (in his opinion) of Christian\nexcellence; and lastly, because that biography exercised a most potent\ninfluence on the conversion of St. Augustine, the greatest thinker\n(always excepting St. Paul) whom the world had seen since Plato, whom the\nworld was to see again till Lord Bacon; the theologian and philosopher\n(for he was the latter, as well as the former, in the strictest sense) to\nwhom the world owes, not only the formulizing of the whole scheme of the\nuniverse for a thousand years after his death, but Calvinism (wrongly so\ncalled) in all its forms, whether held by the Augustinian party in the\nChurch of Rome, or the \u201cReformed\u201d Churches of Geneva, France, and\nScotland.\n\nWhether we have the exact text of the document as Athanasius wrote it to\nthe \u201cForeign Brethren\u201d\u2014probably the religious folk of Tr\u00eaves\u2014in the Greek\nversion published by Heschelius in 1611, and in certain earlier Greek\ntexts; whether the Latin translation attributed to Evagrius, which has\nbeen well known for centuries past in the Latin Church, be actually his;\nwhether it be exactly that of which St. Jerome speaks, and whether it be\nexactly that which St. Augustine saw, are questions which it is now\nimpossible to decide.  But of the genuineness of the life in its entirety\nwe have no right to doubt, contrary to the verdicts of the most\ndistinguished scholars, whether Protestant or Catholic; and there is fair\nreason to suppose that the document (allowing for errors and variations\nof transcribers) which I have tried to translate, is that of which the\ngreat St. Augustine speaks in the eighth book of his Confessions.\n\nHe tells us that he was reclaimed at last from a profligate life (the\nthought of honourable marriage seems never to have entered his mind), by\nmeeting, while practising as a rhetorician at Tr\u00eaves, an old African\nacquaintance, named Potitanius, an officer of rank.  What followed no\nwords can express so well as those of the great genius himself.\n\n\u201cWhen I told him that I was giving much attention to those writings (the\nEpistles of Paul), we began to talk, and he to tell, of Antony, the monk\nof Egypt, whose name was then very famous among thy servants: {23} but\nwas unknown to us till that moment.  When he discovered that, he spent\nsome time over the subject, detailing his virtues, and wondering at our\nignorance.  We were astounded at hearing such well-attested marvels of\nhim, so recent and almost contemporaneous, wrought in the right faith of\nthe Catholic Church.  We all wondered: we, that they were so great; and\nhe, that we had not heard of them.  Thence his discourse ran on to those\nflocks of hermit-cells, and the morals of thy sweetness, and the fruitful\ndeserts of the wilderness, of which we knew nought.  There was a\nmonastery, too, at Milan, full of good brethren, outside the city walls,\nunder the tutelage of Ambrosius, and we knew nothing of it.  He went on\nstill speaking, and we listened intently; and it befell that he told us\nhow, I know not when, he and three of his mess companions at Tr\u00eaves,\nwhile the emperor was engaged in an afternoon spectacle in the circus,\nwent out for a walk in the gardens round the walls; and as they walked\nthere in pairs, one with him alone, and the two others by themselves,\nthey parted.  And those two, straying about, burst into a cottage, where\ndwelt certain servants of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the\nkingdom of heaven; and there found a book, in which was written the life\nof Antony.  One of them began to read it, and to wonder, and to be\nwarned; and, as he read, to think of taking up such a life, and leaving\nthe warfare of this world to serve thee.  Now, he was one of those whom\nthey call Managers of Affairs. {24}  Then, suddenly filled with holy love\nand sober shame, angered at himself, he cast his eyes on his friend, and\nsaid, \u2018Tell me, prithee, with all these labours of ours, whither are we\ntrying to get?  What are we seeking?  For what are we soldiering?  Can we\nhave a higher hope in the palace, than to become friends of the emperor?\nAnd when there, what is not frail and full of dangers?  And through how\nmany dangers we do not arrive at a greater danger still?  And how long\nwill that last?  But if I choose to become a friend of God, I can do it\nhere and now.\u2019  He spoke thus, and, swelling in the labour-pangs of a new\nlife, he fixed his eyes again on the pages and read, and was changed\ninwardly as thou lookedst on him, and his mind was stripped of the world,\nas soon appeared.  For while he read, and rolled over the billows of his\nsoul, he shuddered and hesitated from time to time, and resolved better\nthings; and already thine, he said to his friend, \u2018I have already torn\nmyself from that hope of ours, and have settled to serve God; and this I\nbegin from this hour, in this very place.  If you do not like to imitate\nme, do not oppose me.\u2019  He replied that he would cling to his companion\nin such a great service and so great a warfare.  And both, now thine,\nbegan building, at their own cost, the tower of leaving all things and\nfollowing thee.  Then Potitianus, and the man who was talking with him\nelsewhere in the garden, seeking them, came to the same place, and warned\nthem to return, as the sun was getting low.  They, however, told their\nresolution, and how it had sprung up and taken strong hold in them, and\nentreated the others not to give them pain.  They, not altered from their\nformer mode of life, yet wept (as he told us) for themselves; and\ncongratulated them piously, and commended themselves to their prayers;\nand then dragging their hearts along the earth, went back to the palace.\nBut the others, fixing their hearts on heaven, remained in the cottage.\nAnd both of them had affianced brides, who, when they heard this,\ndedicated their virginity to thee.\u201d\n\nThe part which this incident played in St. Augustine\u2019s own conversion\nmust be told hereafter in his life.  But the scene which his master-hand\nhas drawn is not merely the drama of his own soul or of these two young\nofficers, but of a whole empire.  It is, as I said at first, the tragedy\nand suicide of the old empire; and the birth-agony of which he speaks was\nnot that of an individual soul here or there, but of a whole new world,\nfor good and evil.  The old Roman soul was dead within, the body of it\ndead without.  Patriotism, duty, purpose of life, save pleasure, money,\nand intrigue, had perished.  The young Roman officer had nothing left for\nwhich to fight; the young Roman gentleman nothing left for which to be a\ncitizen and an owner of lands.  Even the old Roman longing (which was\nalso a sacred duty) of leaving an heir to perpetuate his name, and serve\nthe state as his fathers had before him\u2014even that was gone.  Nothing was\nleft, with the many, but selfishness, which could rise at best into the\ndesire of saving every man his own soul, and so transform worldliness\ninto other-worldliness.  The old empire could do nothing more for man;\nand knew that it could do nothing; and lay down in the hermit\u2019s cell to\ndie.\n\nTr\u00eaves was then \u201cthe second metropolis of the empire,\u201d boasting, perhaps,\neven then, as it boasts still, that it was standing thirteen hundred\nyears before Rome was built.  Amid the low hills, pierced by rocky dells,\nand on a strath of richest soil, it had grown, from the mud-hut town of\nthe Treviri, into a noble city of palaces, theatres, baths,\ntriumphal-arches, on either side the broad and clear Moselle.  The bridge\nwhich Augustus had thrown across the river, four hundred years before the\ntimes of hermits and of saints, stood like a cliff through all barbarian\ninvasions, through all the battles and sieges of the Middle Age, till it\nwas blown up by the French in the wars of Louis XIV., and nought remains\nsave the huge piers of black lava stemming the blue stream; while up and\ndown the dwindled city, the colossal fragments of Roman work\u2014the Black\nGate, the Heidenthurm, the baths, the Basilica or Hall of Justice, now a\nLutheran church\u2014stand out half ruined, like the fossil bones of giants\namid the works of weaker, though of happier times; while the amphitheatre\nwas till late years planted thick with vines, fattening in soil drenched\nwith the blood of thousands.  Tr\u00eaves had been the haunt of emperor after\nemperor, men wise and strong, cruel and terrible;\u2014of Constantius,\nConstantine the Great, Julian, Valentinian, Valens; and lastly, when\nPotitianus\u2019s friends found those poor monks in the garden {27} of\nGratian, the gentle hunter who thought day and night on sport, till his\narrows were said to be instinct with life, was holding his military court\nwithin the walls of Tr\u00eaves, or at that hunting palace on the northern\ndowns, where still on the bath-floors lie the mosaics of hare and deer,\nand boar and hound, on which the feet of Emperors trod full fifteen\nhundred years ago.\n\nStill glorious outwardly, like the Roman empire itself, was that great\ncity of Tr\u00eaves; but inwardly it was full of rottenness and weakness.  The\nRoman empire had been, in spite of all its crimes, for four hundred years\nthe salt of the earth: but now the salt had lost its savour; and in one\ngeneration more it would be trodden under foot and cast upon the\ndunghill, and another empire would take its place,\u2014the empire, not of\nbrute strength and self-indulgence, but of sympathy and self-denial,\u2014an\nempire, not of C\u00e6sars, but of hermits.  Already was Gratian the friend\nand pupil of St. Ambrose of Milan; already, too, was he persecuting,\nthough not to the death, heretics and heathens.  Nay, some fifty years\nbefore (if the legend can be in the least trusted) had St. Helena, the\nmother of Constantine the Great, returned from Palestine, bearing with\nher\u2014so men believed\u2014not only the miraculously discovered cross of Christ,\nbut the seamless coat which he had worn; and, turning her palace into a\nchurch, deposited the holy coat therein: where\u2014so some believe\u2014it remains\nuntil this day.  Men felt that a change was coming, but whence it would\ncome, or how terrible it would be, they could not tell.  It was to be, as\nthe prophet says, \u201clike the bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth\nsuddenly in an instant.\u201d  In the very amphitheatre where Gratian sat that\nafternoon, with all the folk of Tr\u00eaves about him, watching, it may be,\nlions and antelopes from Africa slaughtered\u2014it may be criminals tortured\nto death\u2014another and an uglier sight had been twice seen some seventy\nyears before.  Constantine, so-called the Great, had there exhibited his\n\u201cFrankish sports,\u201d the \u201cmagnificent spectacle,\u201d the \u201cfamous punishments,\u201d\nas his flattering court-historians called them: thousands of Frank\nprisoners, many of them of noble, and even of royal blood, torn to pieces\nby wild beasts, while they stood fearless, smiling with folded arms; and\nwhen the wild beasts were gorged, and slew no more, weapons were put into\nthe hands of the survivors, and they were bidden to fight to the death\nfor the amusement of their Roman lords.  But fight they would not against\ntheir own flesh and blood: and as for life, all chance of that was long\ngone by.  So every man fell joyfully upon his brother\u2019s sword, and, dying\nlike a German man, spoilt the sport of the good folk of Tr\u00eaves.  And it\nseemed for a while as if there were no God in heaven who cared to avenge\nsuch deeds of blood.  For the kinsmen, it may be the very sons, of those\nFranks were now in Gratian\u2019s pay; and the Frank Merobaudes was his \u201cCount\nof the Domestics,\u201d and one of his most successful and trusted generals;\nand all seemed to go well, and brute force and craft to triumph on the\nearth.\n\nAnd yet those two young staff officers, when they left the imperial court\nfor the hermit\u2019s cell, judged, on the whole, prudently and well, and\nchose the better part when they fled from the world to escape the\n\u201cdangers\u201d of ambition, and the \u201cgreater danger still\u201d of success.  For\nthey escaped, not merely from vice and worldliness, but, as the event\nproved, from imminent danger of death if they kept the loyalty which they\nhad sworn to their emperor; or the worse evil of baseness if they turned\ntraitors to him to save their lives.\n\nFor little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre, that the day\nwas coming when he, the hunter of game\u2014and of heretics\u2014would be hunted in\nhis turn; when, deserted by his army, betrayed by Merobaudes\u2014whose elder\nkinsfolk were not likely to have kept him ignorant of \u201cthe Frankish\nsports\u201d\u2014he should flee pitiably towards Italy, and die by a German hand;\nsome say near Lyons, some say near Belgrade, calling on Ambrose with his\nlatest breath. {29}  Little thought, too, the good folk of Tr\u00eaves, as\nthey sat beneath the vast awning that afternoon, that within the next\nhalf century a day of vengeance was coming for them, which should teach\nthem that there was a God who \u201cmaketh inquisition for blood;\u201d a day when\nTr\u00eaves should be sacked in blood and flame by those very \u201cbarbarian\u201d\nGermans whom they fancied their allies\u2014or their slaves.  And least of all\ndid they fancy that, when that great destruction fell upon their city,\nthe only element in it which would pass safely through the fire and rise\nagain, and raise their city to new glory and power, was that which was\nrepresented by those poor hermits in the garden-hut outside.  Little\nthought they that above the awful arches of the Black Gate\u2014as if in\nmockery of the Roman Power\u2014a lean anchorite would take his stand, Simeon\nof Syracuse by name, a monk of Mount Sinai, and there imitate, in the far\nWest, the austerities of St. Simeon Stylites in the East, and be enrolled\nin the new Pantheon, not of C\u00e6sars, but of Saints.\n\nUnder the supposed patronage of those Saints, Tr\u00eaves rose again out of\nits ruins.  It gained its four great abbeys of St. Maximus (on the site\nof Constantine\u2019s palace); St. Matthias, in the crypt whereof the bodies\nof the monks never decay; {30} St. Martin; and St. Mary of the Four\nMartyrs, where four soldiers of the famous Theban legion are said to have\nsuffered martyrdom by the house of the Roman prefect.  It had its\ncathedral of St. Peter and St. Helena, supposed to be built out of St.\nHelena\u2019s palace; its exquisite Liebfrauenkirche; its palace of the old\nArchbishops, mighty potentates of this world, as well as of the kingdom\nof heaven.  For they were princes, arch-chancellors, electors of the\nempire, owning many a league of fertile land, governing, and that kindly\nand justly, towns and villages of Christian men, and now and then going\nout to war, at the head of their own knights and yeomen, in defence of\ntheir lands, and of the saints whose servants and trustees they were; and\nso became, according to their light and their means, the salt of that\nland for many generations.\n\nAnd after a while that salt, too, lost its savour, and was, in its turn,\ntrodden under foot.  The French republican wars swept away the\necclesiastical constitution and the wealth of the ancient city.  The\ncathedral and churches were stripped of relics, of jewels, of treasures\nof early art.  The Prince-bishop\u2019s palace is a barrack; so was lately St.\nMaximus\u2019s shrine; St. Martin\u2019s a china manufactory, and St. Matthias\u2019s a\nschool.  Tr\u00eaves belongs to Prussia, and not to \u201cHoly Church;\u201d and all the\nold splendours of the \u201cempire of the saints\u201d are almost as much ruinate\nas those of the \u201cempire of the Romans.\u201d  So goes the world, because there\nis a living God.\n\n    \u201cThe old order changeth, giving place to the new;\n    And God fulfils himself in many ways,\n    Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.\u201d\n\nBut though palaces and amphitheatres be gone, the gardens outside still\nbloom on as when Potitianus his friends wandered through them, perpetual\nas Nature\u2019s self; and perpetual as Nature, too, endures whatever is good\nand true of that afternoon\u2019s work, and of that finding of the legend of\nSt. Antony in the monk\u2019s cabin, which fixed the destiny of the great\ngenius of the Latin Church.\n\nThe story of St. Antony, as it has been handed down to us, {32} runs\nthus:\u2014\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThe life and conversation of our holy Father Antony, written and sent to\nthe monks in foreign parts by our Father among the saints, Athanasius,\nArchbishop of Alexandria.\n\nYou have begun a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt, having determined\neither to equal or even to surpass them in your training towards virtue;\nfor there are monasteries already among you, and the monastic life is\npractised.  This purpose of yours one may justly praise; and if you pray,\nGod will bring it to perfection.  But since you have also asked me about\nthe conversation of the holy Antony, wishing to learn how he began his\ntraining, and who he was before it, and what sort of an end he made to\nhis life, and whether what is said of him is true, in order that you may\nbring yourselves to emulate him, with great readiness I received your\ncommand.  For to me, too, it is a great gain and benefit only to remember\nAntony; and I know that you, when you hear of him, after you have\nwondered at the man, will wish also to emulate his purpose.  For the life\nof Antony is for monks a perfect pattern of ascetic training.  What,\nthen, you have heard about him from other informants do not disbelieve,\nbut rather think that you have heard from them a small part of the facts.\nFor in any case, they could hardly relate fully such great matters, when\neven I, at your request, howsoever much I may tell you in my letter, can\nonly send you a little which I remember about him.  But do not cease to\ninquire of those who sail from hence; for perhaps, if each tells what he\nknows, at last his history may be worthily compiled.  I had wished,\nindeed, when I received your letter, to send for some of the monks who\nwere wont to be most frequently in his company, that I might learn\nsomething more, and send you a fuller account.  But since both the season\nof navigation limited me, and the letter-carrier was in haste, I hastened\nto write to your piety what I myself know (for I have often seen him),\nand what I was able to learn from one who followed him for no short time,\nand poured water upon his hands; always taking care of the truth, in\norder that no one when he hears too much may disbelieve, nor again, if he\nlearns less than is needful, despise the man.\n\nAntony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, {33} who had a\nsufficient property of their own: and as they were Christians, he too was\nChristianly brought up, and when a boy was nourished in the house of his\nparents, besides whom and his home he knew nought.  But when he grew\nolder, he would not be taught letters, {34} not wishing to mix with other\nboys; but all his longing was (according to what is written of Jacob) to\ndwell simply in his own house.  But when his parents took him into the\nLord\u2019s house, he was not saucy, like a boy, nor inattentive as he grew\nolder; but was subject to his parents, and attentive to what was read,\nturning it to his own account.  Nor again (as a boy who was moderately\nwell off) did he trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties,\nnor did he run after the pleasures of this life; but was content with\nwhat he found, and asked for nothing more.  When his parents died, he was\nleft alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or twenty\nyears of age, and took care both of his house and of her.  But not six\nmonths after their death, as he was going as usual to the Lord\u2019s house,\nand collecting his thoughts, he meditated as he walked how the Apostles\nhad left all and followed the Saviour; and how those in the Acts brought\nthe price of what they had sold, and laid it at the Apostles\u2019 feet, to be\ngiven away to the poor; and what and how great a hope was laid up for\nthem in heaven.  With this in his mind, he entered the church.  And it\nbefell then that the Gospel was being read; and he heard how the Lord had\nsaid to the rich man, \u201cIf thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou hast,\nand give to the poor; and come, follow me, and thou shalt have treasure\nin heaven.\u201d  Antony, therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints had\ncome to him from God, and as if the lesson had been read on his account,\nwent forth at once from the Lord\u2019s house, and gave away to those of his\nown village the possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three\nhundred plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that they might give no\ntrouble either to him or his sister.  All his moveables he sold, and a\nconsiderable sum which he received for them he gave to the poor.  But\nhaving kept back a little for his sister, when he went again into the\nLord\u2019s house he heard the Lord saying in the Gospel, \u201cTake no thought for\nthe morrow,\u201d and, unable to endure any more delay, he went out and\ndistributed that too to the needy.  And having committed his sister to\nknown and faithful virgins, and given to her wherewith to be educated in\na nunnery, he himself thenceforth devoted himself, outside his house, to\ntraining; {35} taking heed to himself, and using himself severely.  For\nmonasteries were not then common in Egypt, nor did any monks at all know\nthe wide desert; but each who wished to take heed to himself exercised\nhimself alone, not far from his own village.  There was then in the next\nvillage an old man, who had trained himself in a solitary life from his\nyouth.  When Antony saw him, he emulated him in that which is noble.  And\nfirst he began to stay outside the village; and then, if he heard of any\nearnest man, he went to seek him, like a wise bee; and did not return\ntill he had seen him, and having got from him (as it were) provision for\nhis journey toward virtue, went his way.  So dwelling there at first, he\nsettled his mind neither to look back towards his parents\u2019 wealth nor to\nrecollect his relations; but he put all his longing and all his\nearnestness on training himself more intensely.  For the rest he worked\nwith his hands, because he had heard, \u201cIf any man will not work, neither\nlet him eat;\u201d and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some on\nthe needy.  He prayed continually, because he knew that one ought to pray\nsecretly, without ceasing.  He attended, also, so much to what was read,\nthat, with him, none of the Scriptures fell to the ground, but he\nretained them all, and for the future his memory served him instead of\nbooks.  Behaving thus, Antony was beloved by all; and submitted truly to\nthe earnest men to whom he used to go.  And from each of them he learnt\nsome improvement in his earnestness and his training: he contemplated the\ncourtesy of one, and another\u2019s assiduity in prayer; another\u2019s freedom\nfrom anger; another\u2019s love of mankind: he took heed to one as he watched;\nto another as he studied: one he admired for his endurance, another for\nhis fasting and sleeping on the ground; he laid to heart the meekness of\none, and the long-suffering of another; and stamped upon his memory the\ndevotion to Christ and the mutual love which all in common possessed.\nAnd thus filled full, he returned to his own place of training, gathering\nto himself what he had got from each, and striving to show all their\nqualities in himself.  He never emulated those of his own age, save in\nwhat is best; and did that so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice\nover him.  And all in the village who loved good, seeing him thus, called\nhim the friend of God; and some embraced him as a son, some as a brother.\n\n                      [Picture: Life of St. Anthony]\n\nBut the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure such\na purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all that he is wont to\ndo; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care for his sister,\nrelation to his kindred, love of money, love of glory, the various\npleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of life; and then the\nharshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the weakness of his body,\nand the length of time; and altogether raised a great dust-cloud of\narguments in his mind, trying to turn him back from his righteous choice.\nBut when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony\u2019s determination,\nbut rather baffled by his stoutness, and overthrown by his great faith,\nand falling before his continual prayers, then he attacked him with the\ntemptations which he is wont to use against young men; . . . . but he\nprotected his body with faith, prayers, and fastings, . . . setting his\nthoughts on Christ, and on his own nobility through Christ, and on the\nrational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on the terrors of the\nfire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus escaped unhurt.  And\nthus was the enemy brought to shame.  For he who thought himself to be\nequal with God was now mocked by a youth; and he who boasted against\nflesh and blood was defeated by a man clothed in flesh.  For the Lord\nworked with him, who bore flesh on our account, and gave to the body\nvictory over the devil, that each man in his battle may say, \u201cNot I, but\nthe grace of God which is with me.\u201d  At last, when the dragon could not\noverthrow Antony even thus, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then\ngnashing his teeth (as is written), and as if beside himself, he appeared\nto the sight, as he is to the reason, as a black child, and as it were\nfalling down before him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver\nwas cast out), but using a human voice, said, \u201cI have deceived many; I\nhave cast down many.  But now, as in the case of many, so in thine, I\nhave been worsted in the battle.\u201d  Then when Antony asked him, \u201cWho art\nthou who speakest thus to me?\u201d he forthwith replied in a pitiable voice,\n\u201cI am the spirit of impurity.\u201d. . .\n\nThen Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said, \u201cThou art\nutterly despicable; for thou art black of soul, and weak as a child; nor\nshall I henceforth cast one thought on thee.  For the Lord is my helper,\nand I shall despise my enemies.\u201d  That black being, hearing this, fled\nforthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid thenceforth of coming near\nthe man.\n\nThis was Antony\u2019s first struggle against the devil: or rather this mighty\ndeed in him was the Saviour\u2019s, who condemned sin in the flesh that the\nrighteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in us, who walk not after\nthe flesh, but after the Spirit.  But neither did Antony, because the\nd\u00e6mon had fallen, grow careless and despise him; neither did the enemy,\nwhen worsted by him, cease from lying in ambush against him.  For he came\nround again as a lion, seeking a pretence against him.  But Antony had\nlearnt from Scripture that many are the devices of the enemy; and\ncontinually kept up his training, considering that, though he had not\ndeceived his heart by pleasure, he would try some other snares.  For the\nd\u00e6mon delights in sin.  Therefore he chastised his body more and more,\nand brought it into slavery, lest, having conquered in one case, he\nshould be tripped up in others.  He determined, therefore, to accustom\nhimself to a still more severe life; and many wondered at him: but the\nlabour was to him easy to bear.  For the readiness of the spirit, through\nlong usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking a very\nslight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.  For he\nwatched so much, that he often passed the whole night without sleep; and\nthat not once, but often, to the astonishment of men.  He ate once a day,\nafter the setting of the sun, and sometimes only once in two days, often\neven in four; his food was bread with salt, his drink nothing but water.\nTo speak of flesh and wine there is no need, for such a thing is not\nfound among other earnest men.  When he slept he was content with a\nrush-mat: but mostly he lay on the bare ground.  He would not anoint\nhimself with oil, saying that it was more fit for young men to be earnest\nin training, than to seek things which softened the body; and that they\nmust accustom themselves to labour, according to the Apostle\u2019s saying,\n\u201cWhen I am weak, then I am strong;\u201d for that the mind was strengthened as\nbodily pleasure was weakened.  And this argument of his was truly\nwonderful.  For he did not measure the path of virtue, nor his going away\ninto retirement on account of it, by time; but by his own desire and\nwill.  So forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning afresh, took\nmore pains to improve, saying over to himself continually the Apostle\u2019s\nwords, \u201cForgetting what is behind, stretching forward to what is before;\u201d\nand mindful, too, of Elias\u2019 speech, \u201cThe Lord liveth, before whom I stand\nthis day.\u201d  For he held, that by mentioning to-day, he took no account of\npast time: but, as if he were laying down a beginning, he tried earnestly\nto make himself day by day fit to appear before God, pure in heart, and\nready to obey his will, and no other.  And he said in himself that the\nascetic ought for ever to be learning his own life from the manners of\nthe great Elias, as from a mirror.  Antony, having thus, as it were,\nbound himself, went to the tombs, which happened to be some way from the\nvillage; and having bidden one of his acquaintances to bring him bread at\nintervals of many days, he entered one of the tombs, and, shutting the\ndoor upon himself, remained there alone.  But the enemy, not enduring\nthat, but rather terrified lest in a little while he should fill the\ndesert with his training, coming one night with a multitude of d\u00e6mons,\nbeat him so much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture.\nFor he asserted that the pain was so great that no blows given by men\ncould cause such agony.  But by the providence of God (for the Lord does\nnot overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance came,\nbringing him the loaves.  And having opened the door, and seeing him\nlying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the Lord\u2019s house in the\nvillage, and laid him on the ground; and many of his kinsfolk and the\nvillagers sat round him, as round a corpse.  But about midnight, Antony\ncoming to himself, and waking up, saw them all sleeping, and only his\nacquaintance awake, and, nodding to him to approach, begged him to carry\nhim back to the tombs, without waking any one.  When that was done, the\ndoors were shut, and he remained as before, alone inside.  And, because\nhe could not stand on account of the d\u00e6mons\u2019 blows, he prayed prostrate.\nAnd after his prayer, he said with a shout, \u201cHere am I, Antony: I do not\nfly from your stripes; yea, if you do yet more, nothing shall separate me\nfrom the love of Christ.\u201d  And then he sang, \u201cIf an host be laid against\nme, yet shall not my heart be afraid.\u201d  Thus thought and spoke the man\nwho was training himself.  But the enemy, hater of what is noble, and\nenvious, wondering that he dared to return after the stripes, called\ntogether his dogs, and bursting with rage,\u2014\u201cYe see,\u201d he said, \u201cthat we\nhave not stopped this man by the spirit of impurity; nor by blows: but he\nis even growing bolder against us.  Let us attack him some other way.\u201d\n{41}  For it is easy for the devil to invent schemes of mischief.  So\nthen in the night they made such a crash, that the whole place seemed\nshaken, and the d\u00e6mons, as if breaking in the four walls of the room,\nseemed to enter through them, changing themselves into the shapes of\nbeasts and creeping things; {42} and the place was forthwith filled with\nshapes of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, and snakes, asps, scorpions, and\nwolves, and each of them moved according to his own fashion.  The lion\nroared, longing to attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent did not\ncease creeping, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether the noises\nof all the apparitions were dreadful, and their tempers cruel.  But\nAntony, scourged and pierced by them, felt a more dreadful bodily pain\nthan before: but he lay unshaken and awake in spirit.  He groaned at the\npain of his body: but clear in intellect, and as it were mocking, he\nsaid, \u201cIf there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you\nshould come on; but since the Lord has made you weak, therefore you try\nto frighten me by mere numbers.  And a proof of your weakness is, that\nyou imitate the shapes of brute animals.\u201d  And taking courage, he said\nagain, \u201cIf ye can, and have received power against me, delay not, but\nattack; but if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain?  For a seal to us\nand a wall of safety is our faith in the Lord.\u201d  The d\u00e6mons, having made\nmany efforts, gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked at\nthem, than they at him.  But neither then did the Lord forget Antony\u2019s\nwrestling, but appeared to help him.  For, looking up, he saw the roof as\nit were opened and a ray of light coming down towards him.  The d\u00e6mons\nsuddenly became invisible, and the pain of his body forthwith ceased, and\nthe building became quite whole.  But Antony, feeling the succour, and\ngetting his breath again, and freed from pain, questioned the vision\nwhich appeared, saying, \u201cWhere wert thou?  Why didst thou not appear to\nme from the first, to stop my pangs?\u201d  And a voice came to him, \u201cAntony,\nI was here, but I waited to see thy fight.  Therefore, since thou hast\nwithstood, and not been worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and\nwill make thee become famous everywhere.\u201d  Hearing this, he rose and\nprayed, and was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his\nbody than he had before.  He was then about thirty-and-five years old.\nAnd on the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to\nGod; and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with him\nin the desert.  But when he declined, because of his age, and because no\nsuch custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set off to the\nmountain.  But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness, and wishing to\nhinder it, cast in his way the phantom of a great silver plate.  But\nAntony, perceiving the trick of him who hates what is noble, stopped.\nAnd he judged the plate worthless, seeing the devil in it; and said,\n\u201cWhence comes a plate in the desert?  This is no beaten way, nor is there\nhere the footstep of any traveller.  Had it fallen, it could not have\nbeen unperceived, from its great size; and besides, he who lost it would\nhave turned back and found it, because the place is desert.  This is a\ntrick of the devil.  Thou shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by\nthis: let it go with thee into perdition.\u201d  And as Antony said that, it\nvanished, as smoke from before the face of the fire.  Then again he saw,\nnot this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he came up.\nBut whether the enemy showed it him, or whether some better power, which\nwas trying the athlete, and showing the devil that he did not care for\nreal wealth; neither did he tell, nor do we know, save that it was real\ngold.  Antony, wondering at the abundance of it, so stepped over it as\nover fire, and so passed it by, that he never turned, but ran on in\nhaste, until he had lost sight of the place.  And growing even more and\nmore intense in his determination, he rushed up the mountain, and finding\nan empty inclosure full of creeping things on account of its age, he\nbetook himself across the river, and dwelt in it.  The creeping things,\nas if pursued by some one, straightway left the place: but he blocked up\nthe entry, having taken with him loaves for six months (for the Thebans\ndo this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and having water with\nhim, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that monastery, {44} he remained\nalone, never going forth, and never looking at any one who came.  Thus he\npassed a long time there training himself, and only twice a year received\nloaves, let down from above through the roof.  But those of his\nacquaintance who came to him, as they often remained days and nights\noutside (for he did not allow any one to enter), used to hear as it were\ncrowds inside clamouring, thundering, lamenting, crying\u2014\u201cDepart from our\nground.  What dost thou even in the desert?  Thou canst not abide our\nonset.\u201d  At first those without thought that there were some men fighting\nwith him, and that they had got in by ladders: but when, peeping in\nthrough a crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that they\nwere d\u00e6mons, and being terrified, called themselves on Antony.  But he\nrather listened to them than cared for the others.  For his acquaintances\ncame up continually, expecting to find him dead, and heard him singing,\n\u201cLet the Lord arise, and his enemies shall be scattered; and let them who\nhate him flee before him.  As wax melts from before the face of the fire,\nso shall sinners perish from before the face of God.\u201d  And again, \u201cAll\nnations compassed me round about, and in the name of the Lord I repelled\nthem.\u201d  He endured then for twenty years, thus training himself alone;\nneither going forth, nor seen by any one for long periods of time.  But\nafter this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his training,\nand others who knew him came, and were bursting in the door by force,\nAntony came forth as from some inner shrine, initiated into the\nmysteries, and bearing the God. {45}  And then first he appeared out of\nthe inclosure to those who were coming to him.  And when they saw him\nthey wondered; for his body had kept the same habit, and had neither\ngrown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by fighting with the d\u00e6mons.\nFor he was just such as they had known him before his retirement.  They\nwondered again at the purity of his soul, because it was neither\ncontracted as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor possessed by\nlaughter or by depression; for he was neither troubled at beholding the\ncrowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted by too many; but was altogether\nequal, as being governed by reason, and standing on that which is\naccording to nature.  Many sufferers in body who were present did the\nLord heal by him; and others he purged from d\u00e6mons.  And he gave to\nAntony grace in speaking, so that he comforted many who grieved, and\nreconciled others who were at variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing\nin the world to the love of Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to\nbe mindful of the good things to come, and of the love of God towards us,\nwho spared not his own son, but delivered him up for us all.  He\npersuaded many to choose the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells\nsprang up in the mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who\nwent forth from their own, and registered themselves in the city which is\nin heaven.\n\nAnd when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the need was the\nsuperintendence of the brethren), the canal was full of crocodiles.  And\nhaving only prayed, he entered it; and both he and all who were with him\nwent through it unharmed.  But when he returned to the cell, he persisted\nin the noble labours of his youth; and by continued exhortations he\nincreased the willingness of those who were already monks, and stirred to\nlove of training the greater number of the rest; and quickly, as his\nspeech drew men on, the cells became more numerous; and he governed them\nall as a father.  And when he had gone forth one day, and all the monks\nhad come to him desiring to hear some word from him, he spake to them in\nthe Egyptian tongue, thus\u2014\u201cThat the Scriptures were sufficient for\ninstruction, but that it was good for us to exhort each other in the\nfaith.\u201d . . .\n\n[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the\nearliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science d\u00e6monology and the\ntemptation of d\u00e6mons: but its involved and rhetorical form proves\nsufficiently that it could not have been delivered by an unlettered man\nlike Antony.  Neither is it, probably, even composed by St. Athanasius;\nit seems rather, like several other passages in this biography, the\ninterpolation of some later scribe.  It has been, therefore, omitted.]\n\nAnd when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the love of\nvirtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up, and in others\nconceit stopped, while all were persuaded to despise the plots of the\ndevil, wondering at the grace which had been given to Antony by the Lord\nfor the discernment of spirits.  So the cells in the mountains were like\ntents filled with divine choirs, singing, discoursing, fasting, praying,\nrejoicing over the hope of the future, working that they might give alms\nthereof, and having love and concord with each other.  And there was\nreally to be seen, as it were, a land by itself, of piety and justice;\nfor there was none there who did wrong, or suffered wrong: no blame from\nany talebearer: but a multitude of men training themselves, and in all of\nthem a mind set on virtue.  So that any one seeing the cells, and such an\narray of monks, would have cried out, and said, \u201cHow fair are thy\ndwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel; like shady groves and like\nparks beside a river, and like tents which the Lord hath pitched, and\nlike cedars by the waters.\u201d  He himself, meanwhile, withdrawing,\naccording to his custom, alone to his own cell, increased the severity of\nhis training.  And he groaned daily, considering the mansions in heaven,\nand setting his longing on them, and looking at the ephemeral life of\nman.  For even when he was going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he\nconsidered the rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was\nabout to eat with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and\ndeclined, and went far away from them; thinking that he should blush if\nhe was seen by others eating.  He ate, nevertheless, by himself, on\naccount of the necessities of the body; and often, too, with the\nbrethren, being bashful with regard to them, but plucking up heart for\nthe sake of saying something that might be useful; and used to tell them\nthat they ought to give all their leisure rather to the soul than to the\nbody; and that they should grant a very little time to the body, for mere\nnecessity\u2019s sake: but that their whole leisure should be rather given to\nthe soul, and should seek her profit, that she may not be drawn down by\nthe pleasures of the body, but rather the body be led captive by her.\nFor this (he said) was what was spoken by the Saviour, \u201cBe not anxious\nfor your soul, what ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall put\non.  And seek not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither let\nyour minds be in suspense: for after all these things the nations of the\nworld seek: but your Father knoweth that ye need all these things.\nRather seek first his kingdom; and all these things shall be added unto\nyou.\u201d\n\nAfter these things, the persecution which happened under the Maximinus of\nthat time, {49} laid hold of the Church; and when the holy martyrs were\nbrought to Alexandria, Antony too followed, leaving his cell, and saying,\n\u201cLet us depart too, that we may wrestle if we be called, or see them\nwrestling.\u201d  And he longed to be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to\ngive himself up, he ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the\nprisons.  And he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the\nreadiness of those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and\nbring on their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to\nmartyrdom.  At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and earnestness of\nhim and those who were with him, commanded that none of the monks should\nappear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in the city.  So all the\nrest thought good to hide themselves that day; but Antony cared so much\nfor the order, that he all the rather washed his cloak, and stood next\nday upon a high place, and appeared to the General in shining white.\nTherefore, when all the rest wondered, and the General saw him, and\npassed by with his array, he stood fearless, showing forth the readiness\nof us Christians.  For he himself prayed to be a martyr, as I have said,\nand was like one grieved, because he had not borne his witness.  But the\nLord was preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he\nmight become a teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from\nScripture.  For many, when they only saw his manner of life, were eager\nto emulate it.  So he again ministered continually to the confessors;\nand, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his services.  And when at\nlast the persecution ceased, and the blessed Bishop Peter had been\nmartyred, he left the city, and went back to his cell.  And he was there,\nday by day, a martyr in his conscience, and wrestling in the conflict of\nfaith; for he imposed on himself a much more severe training than before;\nand his garment was within of hair, without of skin, which he kept till\nhis end.  He neither washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his\nfeet, nor actually endured putting them into water unless it were\nnecessary.  And no one ever saw him unclothed till he was dead and about\nto be buried.\n\nWhen, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth himself, nor\nto receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of soldiers, came and gave\ntrouble to Antony.  For he had with him his daughter, who was tormented\nby a d\u00e6mon.  And while he remained a long time knocking at the door, and\nexpecting him to come to pray to God for the child, Antony could not bear\nto open, but leaning from above, said, \u201cMan, why criest thou to me?  I,\ntoo, am a man, as thou art.  But if thou believest, pray to God, and it\ncomes to pass.\u201d  Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ;\nand went away, with his daughter cleansed from the d\u00e6mon.  And many other\nthings the Lord did by him, saying, \u201cAsk, and it shall be given you.\u201d\nFor most of the sufferers, when he did not open the door, only sat down\noutside the cell, and believing, and praying honestly, were cleansed.\nBut when he saw himself troubled by many, and not being permitted to\nretire, as he wished, being afraid lest he himself should be puffed up by\nwhat the Lord was doing by him, or lest others should count of him above\nwhat he was, he resolved to go to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew\nhim not.  And, in fact, having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat\ndown on the bank of the river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might\nembark and go up in it.  And as he watched, a voice came to him: \u201cAntony,\nwhither art thou going, and why?\u201d  And he, not terrified, but as one\naccustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it, \u201cBecause\nthe crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I minded to go up to\nthe Upper Thebaid, on account of the many annoyances which befall me;\nand, above all, because they ask of me things beyond my strength.\u201d  And\nthe voice said to him, \u201cEven if thou goest up to the Thebaid, even if, as\nthou art minded to do, thou goest down the cattle pastures, {52a} thou\nwilt have to endure more, and double trouble; but if thou wilt really be\nat rest, go now into the inner desert.\u201d  And when Antony said, \u201cWho will\nshow me the way, for I have not tried it?\u201d forthwith it showed him\nSaracens who were going to journey that road.  So, going to them, and\ndrawing near them, Antony asked leave to depart with them into the\ndesert.  But they, as if by an ordinance of Providence, willingly\nreceived him; and, journeying three days and three nights with them, he\ncame to a very high mountain; {52b} and there was water under the\nmountain, clear, sweet, and very cold; and a plain outside; and a few\nneglected date-palms.  Then Antony, as if stirred by God, loved the spot;\nfor this it was what he had pointed out who spoke to him beside the river\nbank.  At first, then, having received bread from those who journeyed\nwith him, he remained alone in the mount, no one else being with him.\nFor he recognised that place as his own home, and kept it thenceforth.\nAnd the Saracens themselves, seeing Antony\u2019s readiness, came that way on\npurpose, and joyfully brought him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of\nthe dates, which was then little and paltry.  But after this, the\nbrethren, having found out the spot, like children remembering their\nfather, were anxious to send things to him; but Antony saw that, in\nbringing him bread, some there were put to trouble and fatigue; and,\nsparing the monks even in that, took counsel with himself, and asked some\nwho came to him to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and\nwhen these were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he\nfound a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having\nplenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by year,\nhe got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be troublesome to\nno one on that account, and that he was keeping himself free from\nobligation in all things.  But after this, seeing again some people\ncoming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that he who came might have\nsome small solace after the labour of that hard journey.  At first,\nhowever, the wild beasts in the desert, coming on account of the water,\noften hurt his crops and his tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one\nof them, said to them all, \u201cWhy do you hurt me, who have not hurt you?\nDepart, and, in the name of the Lord, never come near this place.\u201d  And\nfrom that time forward, as if they were afraid of his command, they never\ncame near the place.  So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having\nleisure for prayer and for training.  But the brethren who ministered to\nhim asked him that, coming every month, they might bring him olives, and\npulse, and oil; for, after all, he was old.  And while he had his\nconversation there, what great wrestlings he endured, according to that\nwhich is written, \u201cNot against flesh and blood, but against the d\u00e6mons\nwho are our adversaries,\u201d we have known from those who went in to him.\nFor there also they heard tumults, and many voices, and clashing as of\narms; and they beheld the mount by night full of wild beasts, and they\nlooked on him, too, fighting, as it were, with beings whom he saw, and\npraying against them.  And those who came to him he bade be of good\ncourage, but he himself wrestled, bending his knees, and praying to the\nLord.  And it was truly worthy of wonder that, alone in such a desert, he\nwas neither cowed by the d\u00e6mons who beset him, nor, while there were\nthere so many four-footed and creeping beasts, was at all afraid of their\nfierceness: but, as is written, trusted in the Lord like the Mount Zion,\nhaving his reason unshaken and untost; so that the d\u00e6mons rather fled,\nand the wild beasts, as is written, were at peace with him.\n\nNevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and gnashed upon\nhim with his teeth.  But Antony was comforted by the Saviour, remaining\nunhurt by his craft and manifold artifices.  For on him, when he was\nawake at night, he let loose wild beasts; and almost all the hy\u00e6nas in\nthat desert, coming out of their burrows, beset him round, and he was in\nthe midst.  And when each gaped on him and threatened to bite him,\nperceiving the art of the enemy, he said to them all, \u201cIf ye have\nreceived power against me, I am ready to be devoured by you: but if ye\nhave been set on by d\u00e6mons, delay not, but withdraw, for I am a servant\nof Christ.\u201d  When Antony said this, they fled, pursued by his words as by\na whip.  Next after a few days, as he was working\u2014for he took care, too,\nto labour\u2014some one standing at the door pulled the plait that he was\nworking.  For he was weaving baskets, which he used to give to those who\ncame, in return for what they brought him.  And rising up, he saw a\nbeast, like a man down to his thighs, but having legs and feet like an\nass; and Antony only crossed himself and said, \u201cI am a servant of Christ.\nIf thou hast been sent against me, behold, here I am.\u201d  And the beast\nwith its d\u00e6mons fled away, so that in its haste it fell and died.  Now\nthe death of the beast was the fall of the d\u00e6mons.  For they were eager\nto do everything to bring him back out of the desert, but could not\nprevail.\n\nAnd being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit\nawhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came to\nmeet him.  And a camel carried their loaves and their water; for that\ndesert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water unless in that\nmountain alone whence they drew their water, and where his cell is.  But\nwhen the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most intense, they\nall began to be in danger; for going round to various places, and finding\nno water, they could walk no more, but lay down on the ground, and they\nlet the camel go, and gave themselves up.  But the old man, seeing them\nall in danger, was utterly grieved, and groaned; and departing a little\nway from them, and bending his knees and stretching out his hands, he\nprayed, and forthwith the Lord caused water to come out where he had\nstopped and prayed.  And thus all of them drinking took breath again; and\nhaving filled their skins, they sought the camel, and found her; for it\nbefell that the halter had been twisted round a stone, and thus she had\nbeen stopped.  So, having brought her back, and given her to drink, they\nput the skins on her, and went through their journey unharmed.  And when\nthey came to the outer cells all embraced him, looking on him as a\nfather.  And he, as if he brought them guest-gifts from the mountain,\ngave them away to them in his words, and shared his benefits among them.\nAnd there was joy again in the mountains, and zeal for improvement, and\ncomfort through their faith in each other.  And he too rejoiced, seeing\nthe willingness of the monks, and his sister grown old in maidenhood, and\nherself the leader of other virgins.  And so after certain days he went\nback again to the mountain.\n\nAnd after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared also to\ncome.  Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually this\ncommand: To trust in the Lord and love him, and to keep themselves from\nfoul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and, as is written in the Parables,\nnot to be deceived by fulness of bread; and to avoid vainglory; and to\npray continually; and to sing before sleep and after sleep; and to lay by\nin their hearts the commandment of Scripture; and to remember the works\nof the saints, in order to have their souls attuned to emulate them.  But\nespecially he counselled them to meditate continually on the Apostle\u2019s\nsaying, \u201cLet not the sun go down upon your wrath;\u201d and this he said was\nspoken of all commandments in common, in order that not on wrath alone,\nbut on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it was noble\nand necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a baseness by day,\nnor the moon for a sin or even a thought by night; therefore, in order\nthat that which is noble may be preserved in us, it was good to hear and\nto keep what the Apostle commanded: for he said: \u201cJudge yourselves, and\nprove yourselves.\u201d  Let each then take account with himself, day by day,\nof his daily and nightly deeds; and if he has not sinned, let him not\nboast, but let him endure in what is good and not be negligent, neither\ncondemn his neighbour, neither justify himself, as said the blessed\nApostle Paul, until the Lord comes who searches secret things.  For we\noften deceive ourselves in what we do, and we indeed know not: but the\nLord comprehends all.  Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us\nsympathise with each other; and let us bear each other\u2019s burdens, and\nexamine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to fill up.\nAnd let this, too, be my counsel for safety against sinning.  Let us each\nnote and write down the deeds and motions of the soul as if he were about\nto relate them to each other; and be confident that, as we shall be\nutterly ashamed that they should be known, we shall cease from sinning,\nand even from desiring anything mean.  For who when he sins wishes to be\nharmed thereby?  Or who, having sinned, does not rather lie, wishing to\nhide it?  As therefore when in each other\u2019s sight we dare not commit a\ncrime, so if we write down our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we\nshall keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they\nshould be known. . . .  And thus forming ourselves we shall be able to\nbring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on the one hand, and on\nthe other trample on the snares of the enemy.\u201d  This was his exhortation\nto those who met him: but with those who suffered he suffered, and prayed\nwith them.  And often and in many things the Lord heard him; and neither\nwhen he was heard did he boast; nor when he was not heard did he murmur:\nbut, remaining always the same, gave thanks to the Lord.  And those who\nsuffered he exhorted to keep up heart, and to know that the power of cure\nwas none of his, nor of any man\u2019s; but only belonged to God, who works\nwhen and whatsoever he chooses.  So the sufferers received this as a\nremedy, learning not to despise the old man\u2019s words, but rather to keep\nup heart; and those who were cured learned not to bless Antony, but God\nalone.\n\nFor instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace, and had a\ngrievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and tried to injure his\neyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony to pray for him.  And when\nhe had prayed he said to Fronto, \u201cDepart, and be healed.\u201d  And when he\nresisted, and remained within some days, Antony continued saying, \u201cThou\ncanst not be healed if thou remainest here; go forth, and as soon as thou\nenterest Egypt, thou shalt see the sign which shall befall thee.\u201d  He,\nbelieving, went forth; and as soon as he only saw Egypt he was freed from\nhis disease, and became sound according to the word of Antony, which he\nhad learnt by prayer from the Saviour . . .\n\n[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint: which need\nnot be translated.]\n\nBut when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on the\njourney, one of them died, and the other was about to die.  In fact,\nbeing no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground expecting death.\nBut Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two monks who happened to\nbe there, and hastened them, saying, \u201cTake a pitcher of water, and run on\nthe road towards Egypt; for of two who are coming hither one has just\nexpired, and the other will do so if you do not hasten.  For this has\nbeen showed to me as I prayed.\u201d  So the monks going found the one lying\ndead, and buried him; and the other they recovered with the water, and\nbrought him to the old man.  Now the distance was a day\u2019s journey.  But\nif any one should ask why he did not speak before one of them expired, he\ndoes not question rightly; for the judgment of that death did not belong\nto Antony, but to God, who both judged concerning the one; and revealed\nconcerning the other.  But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that\nsitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord showed\nhim things afar off.\n\nFor once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he saw some one\ncarried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who met him.  Then\nwondering, and blessing such a choir, he prayed to be taught what that\nmight be; and straightway a voice came to him that this was the soul of\nAmmon, the monk in Nitria, {60} who had persevered as an ascetic to his\nold age; and the distance from Nitria to the mountain where Antony was,\nis thirteen days\u2019 journey.  Those then who were with Antony, seeing the\nold man wondering, asked the reason, and heard that Ammon had just\nexpired, for he was known to them on account of his having frequently\ncome thither, and many signs having been worked by him, of which this is\none. . . .\n\n[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of Ammon\u2019s being\nmiraculously carried across the river Lycus, because he was ashamed to\nundress himself.]\n\nBut the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon\u2019s death noted down the\nday; and when brethren came from Nitria after thirty days, they inquired\nand learnt that Ammon had fallen asleep at the day and hour in which the\nold man saw his soul carried aloft.  And all on both sides wondered at\nthe purity of Antony\u2019s soul; how he had learnt and seen instantly what\nhad happened thirteen days\u2019 journey off.\n\nMoreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer mountain\npraying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that wonderful and\nChrist-bearing maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered dreadful internal\npain from her extreme training, and was altogether weak in body.  Antony,\ntherefore, prayed; and the Count noted down the day on which the prayer\nwas offered.  And going back to Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and\nasking when and on what day her malady had ceased, he brought out the\npaper on which he had written down the date of the prayer.  And when she\ntold him, he showed at once the writing on the paper.  And all found that\nthe Lord had stopped her sufferings while Antony was still praying and\ncalling for her on the goodness of the Saviour.\n\nAnd concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days, or\neven a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming.  For some\ncame only to see him, and others on account of sickness, and others\nbecause they suffered from d\u00e6mons, and all thought the labour of the\njourney no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware that he had been\nbenefited.  And when he spoke and looked thus, he asked no one to marvel\nat him on that account, but to marvel rather at the Lord, because he had\ngiven us, who are but men, grace to know him according to our powers.\nAnd as he was going down again to the outer cells, and was minded to\nenter a boat and pray with the monks, he alone perceived a dreadfully\nevil odour, and when those in the boat told him that they had fish and\nbrine on board, and that it was they which smelt, he said that it was a\ndifferent smell; and while he was yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil\nspirit, had gone before them and hidden in the boat, suddenly cried out.\nBut the d\u00e6mon, being rebuked in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, went\nout of him, and the man became whole, and all knew that the smell had\ncome from the evil spirit.  And there was another man of high rank who\ncame to him, having a d\u00e6mon, and one so terrible, that the possessed man\ndid not know that he was going to Antony, but [showed the common symptoms\nof mania].  Those who brought him entreated Antony to pray over him,\nwhich he did, feeling for the young man, and he watched beside him all\nnight.  But about dawn, the young man, suddenly rushing on Antony,\nassaulted him.  When those who came with him were indignant, Antony said,\n\u201cBe not hard upon the youth, for it is not he, but the d\u00e6mon in him; and\nbecause he has been rebuked, and commanded to go forth into dry places,\nhe has become furious, and done this.  Glorify, therefore, the Lord for\nhis having thus rushed upon me, as a sign to you that the d\u00e6mon is going\nout.\u201d  And as Antony said this, the youth suddenly became sound, and,\nrecovering his reason, knew where he was, and embraced the old man,\ngiving thanks to God.  And most of the monks agree unanimously that many\nlike things were done by him: yet are they not so wonderful as what\nfollows.  For once, when he was going to eat, and rose up to pray about\nthe ninth hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and (wonderful to relate)\nas he stood he saw himself as it were taken out of himself, and led into\nthe air by some persons; and then others, bitter and terrible, standing\nin the air, and trying to prevent his passing upwards.  And when those\nwho led him fought against them, they demanded whether he was not\naccountable to them.  And when they began to take account of his deeds\nfrom his birth, his guides stopped them, saying, \u201cWhat happened from his\nbirth upwards, the Lord hath wiped out: but of what has happened since he\nbecame a monk, and made a promise to God, of that you may demand an\naccount.\u201d  Then, when they brought accusations against him, and could not\nprove them, the road was opened freely to him.  And straightway he saw\nhimself as if coming back and standing before himself, and was Antony\nonce more.  Then, forgetting that he had not eaten, he remained the rest\nof the day and all night groaning and praying, for he wondered when he\nsaw against how many enemies we must wrestle, and through how many\nlabours a man must traverse the air; and he remembered that it is this\nwhich the Apostle means with regard to the Prince of the power of the\nair; for it is in the air that the enemy has his power, fighting against\nthose who pass through it, and trying to hinder them.  Wherefore, also he\nespecially exhorts us: \u201cTake the whole armour of God, that the enemy,\nhaving no evil to say about us, may be ashamed.\u201d  But when we heard this,\nwe remembered the Apostle\u2019s saying, \u201cWhether in the body I cannot tell,\nor out of the body I cannot tell: God knoweth.\u201d  But Paul was caught up\ninto the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable words, descended\nagain; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and wrestling till he\nseemed to be free.\n\nAgain, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the mountain,\nif at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was revealed to him\nby Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man was, as Scripture says,\ntaught of God.  After this, at all events, when he had been talking with\nsome who came to him concerning the departure of the soul, and what would\nbe its place after this life, the next night some one called him from\nwithout, and said, \u201cRise up, Antony; come out and see.\u201d  So coming out\n(for he knew whom he ought to obey), he beheld a tall being, shapeless\nand terrible, standing and reaching to the clouds, and as it were winged\nbeings ascending; and him stretching out his hands; and some of them\nhindered by him, and others flying above him, and when they had once\npassed him, borne upwards without trouble.  But against them that tall\nbeing gnashed his teeth, while over those who fell, he rejoiced.  And\nthere came a voice to Antony, \u201cConsider what thou seest.\u201d  And when his\nunderstanding was opened, he perceived that it was the enemy who envies\nthe faithful, and that those who were in his power he mastered and\nhindered from passing; but that those who had not obeyed him, over them,\nas over conquerors, he had no power.  Having seen this, and as it were\nmade mindful by it, he struggled more and more daily to improve.  Now\nthese things he did not tell of his own accord; but when he was long in\nprayer, and astonished in himself, those who were with him questioned him\nand urged him; and he was forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide\nanything from his children; and considering, too, that his own conscience\nwas clear, and the story would be profitable for them, when they learned\nthat the life of training bore good fruit, and that visions often came as\na solace of their toils.\n\nBut how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit; for though he\nwas so great, he both honoured exceedingly the canon of the Church, and\nwished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in honour.  For to the\nbishops and presbyters he was not ashamed to bow his head; and if a\ndeacon ever came to him for the sake of profit, he discoursed with him on\nwhat was profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him, not being\nashamed even himself to learn from him. {65}  For he often asked\nquestions, and deigned to listen to all present, confessing that he was\nprofited if any one said aught that was useful.  Moreover, his\ncountenance had great and wonderful grace; and this gift too he had from\nthe Saviour.  For if he was present among the multitude of monks, and any\none who did not previously know him wished to see him, as soon as he came\nhe passed by all the rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by\nhis eyes.  He did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness,\nbut in the steadiness of his temper, and purity of his soul; for as his\nsoul was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so\nthat the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful, and from the\nmovements of his body the stedfastness of his soul could be perceived,\naccording to the Scripture, \u201cWhen the heart is cheerful the countenance\nis glad; but when sorrow comes it scowleth.\u201d . . . And he was altogether\nwonderful in faith, and pious, for he never communicated with the\nMeletian {66a} schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the\nbeginning; nor did he converse amicably with Manich\u00e6ans or any other\nheretics, save only to exhort them to be converted to piety.  For he held\nthat their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to the soul.  So\nalso he detested the heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to\napproach them, nor hold their misbelief. {66b}  In fact, when certain of\nthe Ariomanites came to him, having discerned them and found them\nimpious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying that their words were\nworse than serpent\u2019s poison; and when the Arians once pretended that he\nwas of the same opinion as they, he was indignant and fierce against\nthem.  Then being sent for by the bishops and all the brethren, he went\ndown from the mountain, and entering Alexandria he denounced the Arians,\nsaying, that that was the last heresy, and the forerunner of Antichrist;\nand he taught the people that the Son of God was not a created thing,\nneither made from nought, but that he is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of\nthe Essence of the Father; wherefore also it is impious to say there was\na time when he was not, for he was always the Word co-existent with the\nFather.  Wherefore he said, \u201cDo not have any communication with these\nmost impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and\ndarkness.  For you are pious Christians: but they, when they say that the\nSon of God and the Word, who is from the Father, is a created being,\ndiffer nought from the heathen, because they worship the creature instead\nof God the Creator. {67}  Believe rather that the whole creation itself\nis indignant against them, because they number the Creator and Lord of\nall, in whom all things are made, among created things.\u201d  All the people\ntherefore rejoiced at hearing that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized\nby such a man; and all those in the city ran together to see Antony and\nthe Greeks, {68a} and those who are called their priests {68b} came into\nthe church, wishing to see the man of God; for all called him by that\nname, because there the Lord cleansed many by him from d\u00e6mons, and healed\nthose who were out of their mind.  And many heathens wished only to touch\nthe old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in fact as\nmany became Christians in those few days, as would have been usually\nconverted in a year.  And when some thought that the crowd troubled him,\nand therefore turned all away from him, he quietly said that they were\nnot more numerous than the fiends with whom he wrestled on the mountain.\nBut when he left the city, and we were setting him on his journey, when\nwe came to the gate a certain woman called to him: \u201cWait, man of God, my\ndaughter is grievously vexed with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I\ntoo harm myself with running after thee.\u201d  The old man hearing it, and\nbeing asked by us, waited willingly.  But when the woman drew near, the\nchild dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on\nthe name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out;\nand the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself\nrejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.\n\nNow he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never\nlearnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.  Once, for\nexample, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they could\ntempt Antony.  And he was in the outer mountain; and when he went out to\nthem, understanding the men from their countenances, he said through an\ninterpreter, \u201cWhy have you troubled yourselves so much, philosophers, to\ncome to a foolish man?\u201d  And when they answered that he was not foolish,\nbut rather very wise, he said, \u201cIf you have come to a fool, your labour\nis superfluous, but if ye think me to be wise, become as I am; for we\nought to copy what is good, and if I had come to you, I should have\ncopied you; but if you come to me, copy me, for I am a Christian.\u201d  And\nthey wondering went their way, for they saw that even d\u00e6mons were afraid\nof Antony.\n\nAnd again when others of the same class met him in the outer mountain,\nand thought to mock him, because he had not learnt letters, Antony\nanswered, \u201cBut what do you say? which is first, the sense or the letters?\nAnd which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the\nletters of the sense?\u201d  And when they said that the sense came first, and\ninvented the letters, Antony replied, \u201cIf then the sense be sound, the\nletters are not needed.\u201d  Which struck them, and those present, with\nastonishment.  So they went away wondering, when they saw so much\nunderstanding in an unlearned man.  For though he had lived and grown old\nin the mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and urbane;\nand his speech was seasoned with the divine salt, so that no man grudged\nat him, but rather rejoiced over him, as many as came. . . .\n\n[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attributed to\nSt. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity: the only point about\nit which is worthy of note is that Antony confutes the philosophers by\nchallenging them to cure some possessed persons, and, when they are\nunable to do so, casts out the d\u00e6mons himself by the sign of the cross.]\n\nThe fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus the Augustus,\nand his sons, Constantius and Constans, the Augusti, hearing of these\nthings, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to receive an answer from\nhim.  But he did not make much of the letters, nor was puffed up by their\nmessages; and he was just the same as he was before the kings wrote to\nhim.  And he called his monks and said, \u201cWonder not if a king writes to\nus, for he is but a man: but wonder rather that God has written his law\nto man, and spoken to us by his own Son.\u201d  So he declined to receive\ntheir letters, saying he did not know how to write an answer to such\nthings; but being admonished by the monks that the kings were Christians,\nand that they must not be scandalized by being despised, he permitted the\nletters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting them because they\nworshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their salvation, not to\nthink the present life great, but rather to remember judgment to come;\nand to know that Christ was the only true and eternal king; and he begged\nthem to be merciful to men, and to think of justice and the poor.  And\nthey, when they received the answer, rejoiced.  Thus was he kindly\ntowards all, and all looked on him as their father.  He then betook\nhimself again into the inner mountain, and continued his accustomed\ntraining.  But often, when he was sitting and walking with those who came\nunto him, he was astounded, as is written in Daniel.  And after the space\nof an hour, he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with him,\nand they perceived that he had seen some vision.  Often he saw in the\nmountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion the bishop,\nwho saw him occupied with a vision.  Once, for instance, as he sat, he\nfell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what he saw.  Then,\nafter an hour, turning to those who were with him, he groaned and fell\ninto a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and bending his knees, remained\nso a long while; and then the old man rose up and wept.  The bystanders,\ntherefore, trembling and altogether terrified, asked him to tell them\nwhat had happened, and tormented him much, that he was forced to speak.\nAnd he groaning greatly\u2014\u201cAh! my children,\u201d he said, \u201cit were better to be\ndead before what I have seen shall come to pass.\u201d  And when they asked\nhim again, he said with tears, that \u201cWrath will seize on the Church, and\nshe will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no\nunderstanding; for I saw the table of the Lord\u2019s house, and mules\nstanding all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does when\nit leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for I heard a\nvoice saying, \u2018My sanctuary shall be defiled.\u2019\u201d\n\nThis the old man saw, and after two years there befell the present inroad\nof the Arians, {72a} and the plunder of the churches, when they carried\noff the holy vessels by violence, and made the heathen carry them: and\nwhen too they forced the heathens from the prisons to join them, and in\ntheir presence did on the holy table what they would. {72b}  Then we all\nperceived that the kicks of those mules presignified to Antony what the\nArians are now doing without understanding, like the brutes.  But when\nAntony saw this sight, he exhorted those about him, saying, \u201cLose not\nheart, children; for as the Lord has been angry, so will he again be\nappeased, and the Church shall soon receive again her own order and shine\nforth as she is wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their\nplace, and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious\nfaith speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom.  Only defile not\nyourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not of the Apostle but\nof the d\u00e6mons, and of their father the devil: barren and irrational and\nof an unsound mind, like the irrational deeds of those mules.\u201d  Thus\nspoke Antony.\n\nBut we must not doubt whether so great wonders have been done by a man;\nfor the Saviour\u2019s promise is, \u201cIf ye have faith as a grain of\nmustard-seed, ye shall say to this mountain, Pass over from hence, it\nshall pass over, and nothing shall be impossible to you;\u201d and again,\n\u201cVerily, verily, I say unto you, if ye shall ask my Father in my name, he\nshall give it you.  Ask, and ye shall receive.\u201d  And he himself it is who\nsaid to his disciples and to all who believe in him, \u201cHeal the sick, cast\nout devils; freely ye have received, freely give.\u201d  And certainly Antony\ndid not heal by his own authority, but by praying and calling on Christ;\nso that it was plain to all that it was not he who did it, but the Lord,\nwho through Antony showed love to men, and healed the sufferers.  But\nAntony\u2019s part was only the prayer and the training, for the sake whereof,\nsitting in the mountain, he rejoiced in the sight of divine things, and\ngrieved when he was tormented by many, and dragged to the outer mountain.\n\nFor all the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain, because\nit was impossible for them to go in thither to him on account of the\nlitigants who followed him; so they begged him to come, that they might\nonly behold him.  And when he declined they insisted, and even sent in to\nhim prisoners under the charge of soldiers, that at least on their\naccount he might come down.  So being forced by necessity, and seeing\nthem lamenting, he came to the outer mountain.  And his labour this time\ntoo was profitable to many, and his coming for their good.  To the\nmagistrates, too, he was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to\nall things, and to fear God, and to know that with what judgment they\njudged they should be judged in turn.  But he loved best of all his life\nin the mountain.  Once again, when he was compelled in the same way to\nleave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the soldiers,\nwho entreated him earnestly, he came down, and having spoken to them\nsomewhat of the things which conduced to salvation, he was pressed also\nby those who were in need.  But being asked by the general to lengthen\nhis stay, he refused, and persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying,\n\u201cFishes, if they lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with\nyou lose their strength.  As the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must\nwe to the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget what is within.\u201d\nThe general, hearing this and much more from him, said with surprise that\nhe was truly a servant of God, for whence could an unlearned man have so\ngreat sense if he were not loved by God?\n\nAnother general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians on\naccount of his affection for those abominable Arians.  His cruelty was so\ngreat that he even beat nuns, and stripped and scourged monks.  Antony\nsent him a letter to this effect:\u2014\u201cI see wrath coming upon thee.  Cease,\ntherefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay hold upon\nthee, for it is near at hand.\u201d  But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter\non the ground and spat on it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding\nthem tell Antony, \u201cSince thou carest for monks, I will soon come after\nthee likewise.\u201d  And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold\non him.  For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went\nout to the first station from Alexandria, which is called Ch\u00e6reas\u2019s.\nBoth of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the most\ngentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the place, the horses\nbegan playing with each other, as is their wont, and suddenly the more\ngentle of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and\npulled him off with his teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was carried\nback to the city, and died in three days.  And all wondered that what\nAntony had so wonderfully foretold was so quickly fulfilled.  These were\nhis warnings to the more cruel.  But the rest who came to him he so\ninstructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and blessed those\nwho had retired from this life.  And those who had been unjustly used he\nso protected that you would think he and not they was the sufferer.  And\nhe was so able to be of use to all; so that many who were serving in the\narmy, and many wealthy men, laid aside the burdens of life and became\nthenceforth monks; and altogether he was like a physician given by God to\nEgypt.  For who met him grieving, and did not go away rejoicing?  Who\ncame mourning over his dead, and did not forthwith lay aside his grief?\nWho came wrathful, and was not converted to friendship?  What poor man\ncame wearied out, and when he saw and heard him did not despise wealth\nand comfort himself in his poverty?  What monk who had grown remiss, was\nnot strengthened by coming to him?  What young man coming to the mountain\nand looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce pleasure and love\ntemperance?  Who came to him tempted by devils, and did not get rest?\nWho came troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind?  For this was\nthe great thing in Antony\u2019s asceticism, that (as I have said before),\nhaving the gift of discerning spirits, he understood their movements, and\nknew in what direction each of them turned his endeavours and his\nattacks.  And not only he was not deceived by them himself, but he taught\nthose who were troubled in mind how they might turn aside the plots of\nd\u00e6mons, teaching them the weakness and the craft of their enemies.  How\nmany maidens, too, who had been already betrothed, and only saw Antony\nfrom afar, remained unmarried for Christ\u2019s sake!  Some, too, came from\nforeign parts to him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from\nhim as from a father.  And now he has fallen asleep, all are as orphans\nwho have lost a parent, consoling themselves with his memory alone,\nkeeping his instructions and exhortations.  But what the end of his life\nwas like, it is fit that I should relate, and you hear eagerly.  For it\ntoo is worthy of emulation.  He was visiting, according to his wont, the\nmonks in the outer mountain, and having learned from Providence\nconcerning his own end, he said to the brethren, \u201cThis visit to you is my\nlast, and I wonder if we shall see each other again in this life.  It is\ntime for me to set sail, for I am near a hundred and five years old.\u201d\nAnd when they heard that they wept, and embraced and kissed the old man.\nAnd he, as if he was setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke\njoyfully, and exhorted them not to grow idle in their labours or cowardly\nin their training, but to live as those who died daily, and (as I said\nbefore) to be earnest in keeping their souls from foul thoughts, and to\nemulate the saints, and not to draw near the Meletian schismatics, for\n\u201cye know their evil and profane determinations, nor to have any communion\nwith the Arians, for their impiety also is manifest to all.  Neither if\nye shall see the magistrates patronising them, be troubled, for their\nphantasy shall have an end, and is mortal and only for a little while.\nKeep yourselves therefore rather clean from them, and hold that which has\nbeen handed down to you by the fathers, and especially the faith in our\nLord Jesus Christ which ye have learned from Scripture, and of which ye\nhave often been reminded by me.\u201d  And when the brethren tried to force\nhim to stay with them and make his end there, he would not endure it, on\nmany accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially on this:\u2014The\nEgyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of good persons, and\nespecially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them underground, but to\nlay them upon benches and keep them in their houses; {77} thinking that\nby this they honour the departed.  Now Antony had often asked the bishops\nto exhort the people about this, and in like manner he himself rebuked\nthe laity and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing neither\nlawful nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs and\nprophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very body\nof our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it to hide\nit, till he rose the third day.  And thus saying he showed that those\nbroke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even if they were\nholy; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord\u2019s body?  Many, then,\nwhen they heard him, buried thenceforth underground; and blessed the Lord\nthat they had been taught rightly.  Being then aware of this, and afraid\nlest they should do the same by his body, he hurried himself, and bade\nfarewell to the monks in the outer mountain; and coming to the inner\nmountain, where he was wont to abide, after a few months he grew sick,\nand calling those who were by\u2014and there were two of them who had remained\nthere within fifteen years, exercising themselves and ministering to him\non account of his old age\u2014he said to them, \u201cI indeed go the way of the\nfathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the Lord.\u201d\n. . .\n\n[Then follows a general exhortation to the monk, almost identical with\nmuch that has gone before, and ending by a command that his body should\nbe buried in the ground.]\n\n\u201cAnd let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall know the\nplace, save you alone, for I shall receive it (my body) incorruptible\nfrom my Saviour in the resurrection of the dead.  And distribute my\ngarments thus.  To Athanasius the bishop give one of my sheepskins, and\nthe cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown old\nby me; and to Serapion the bishop give the other sheepskin; and do you\nhave the hair-cloth garment.  And for the rest, children, farewell, for\nAntony is going, and is with you no more.\u201d\n\nSaying thus, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet, and,\nas if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their account\n(for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed and was\ngathered to his fathers.  And they forthwith, as he had commanded them,\npreparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one\nknows to this day where it is hidden, save those two servants only.  And\neach (_i.e._ Athanasius and Serapion) having received the sheepskin of\nthe blessed Antony, and the cloak which he had worn out, keeps them as a\ngreat possession.  For he who looks on them, as it were, sees Antony; and\nhe who puts them on, wears them with joy, as he does Antony\u2019s counsels.\n\nSuch was the end of Antony in the body, and such the beginning of his\ntraining.  And if these things are small in comparison with his virtue,\nyet reckon up from these things how great was Antony, the man of God, who\nkept unchanged, from his youth up to so great an age, the earnestness of\nhis training; and was neither worsted in his old age by the desire of\nmore delicate food, nor on account of the weakness of his body altered\nthe quality of his garment, nor even washed his feet with water; and yet\nremained uninjured in all his limbs: for his eyes were undimmed and\nwhole, so that he saw well; and not one of his teeth had fallen out, but\nthey were only worn down to his gums on account of his great age; and he\nremained sound in hand and foot; and, in a word, appeared ruddier and\nmore ready for exertion than all who use various meats and baths, and\ndifferent dresses.  But that this man should be celebrated everywhere and\nwondered at by all, and regretted even by those who never saw him, is a\nproof of his virtue, and that his soul was dear to God.  For Antony\nbecame known not by writings, not from the wisdom that is from without,\nnot by any art, but by piety alone; and that this was the gift of God,\nnone can deny.  For how as far as Spain, as Gaul, as Rome, as Africa,\ncould he have been heard, hidden as he was in a mountain, if it had not\nbeen for God, who makes known his own men everywhere, and who had\npromised Antony this from the beginning?  For even if they do their deeds\nin secret, and wish to be concealed, yet the Lord shows them as lights to\nall, that so those who hear of them may know that the commandments\nsuffice to put men in the right way, and may grow zealous of the path of\nvirtue.\n\nRead then these things to the other brethren, that they may learn what\nthe life of monks should be, and may believe that the Lord Jesus Christ\nour Saviour will glorify those who glorify him, and that those who serve\nhim to the end he will not only bring to the kingdom of heaven, but that\neven if on earth they hide themselves and strive to get out of the way,\nhe will make them manifest and celebrated everywhere, for the sake of\ntheir own virtue, and for the benefit of others.  But if need be, read\nthis also to the heathens, that even thus they may learn that our Lord\nJesus Christ is not only Lord and the Son of God, but that those who\ntruly serve him, and believe piously on him, not only prove that those\nd\u00e6mons whom the Greeks think are gods to be no gods, but even tread them\nunder foot, and chase them out as deceivers and corrupters of men,\nthrough Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom be glory and honour for ever and\never.  Amen.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThus ends this strange story.  What we are to think of the miracles and\nwonders contained in it, will be discussed at a later point in this book.\nMeanwhile there is a stranger story still connected with the life of St.\nAntony.  It professes to have been told by him himself to his monks; and\nwhatever groundwork of fact there may be in it is doubtless his.  The\nform in which we have it was given it by the famous St. Jerome, who sends\nthe tale as a letter to Asella, one of the many noble Roman ladies whom\nhe persuaded to embrace the monastic life.  The style is as well worth\npreserving as the matter.  Its ruggedness and awkwardness, its ambition\nand affectation, contrasted with the graceful simplicity of Athanasius\u2019s\n\u201cLife of Antony,\u201d mark well the difference between the cultivated Greek\nand the ungraceful and half-barbarous Roman of the later Empire.  I have,\ntherefore, given it as literally as possible, that readers may judge for\nthemselves how some of the Great Fathers of the fifth century wrote, and\nwhat they believed.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE OF SAINT PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT\nBY THE DIVINE HIERONYMUS THE PRIEST.\n(ST. JEROME.)\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\nMANY have often doubted by which of the monks the desert was first\ninhabited.  For some, looking for the beginnings of Monachism in earlier\nages, have deduced it from the blessed Elias and John; of whom Elias\nseems to us to have been rather a prophet than a monk; and John to have\nbegun to prophesy before he was born.  But others (an opinion in which\nall the common people are agreed) assert that Antony was the head of this\nrule of life, which is partly true.  For he was not so much himself the\nfirst of all, as the man who excited the earnestness of all.  But Amathas\nand Macarius, Antony\u2019s disciples (the former of whom buried his master\u2019s\nbody), even now affirm that a certain Paul, a Theban, was the beginner of\nthe matter; which (not so much in name as in opinion) we also hold to be\ntrue.  Some scatter about, as the fancy takes them, both this and other\nstories; inventing incredible tales of a man in a subterranean cave,\nhairy down to his heels, and many other things, which it is tedious to\nfollow out.  For, as their lie is shameless, their opinion does not seem\nworth refuting.\n\nTherefore, because careful accounts of Antony, both in Greek and Roman\nstyle, have been handed down, I have determined to write a little about\nthe beginning and end of Paul\u2019s life; more because the matter has been\nomitted, than trusting to my own wit.  But how he lived during middle\nlife, or what stratagems of Satan he endured, is known to none.\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE OF PAUL\n\n\nUnder Decius and Valerius, the persecutors, at the time when Cornelius at\nRome, and Cyprian at Carthage, were condemned in blessed blood, a cruel\ntempest swept over many Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.\n\nChristian subjects in those days longed to be smitten with the sword for\nthe name of Christ.  But the crafty enemy, seeking out punishments which\ndelayed death, longed to slay souls, not bodies.  And as Cyprian himself\n(who suffered by him) says: \u201cWhen they longed to die, they were not\nallowed to be slain.\u201d  In order to make his cruelty better known, we have\nset down two examples for remembrance.\n\nA martyr, persevering in the faith, and conqueror amid racks and red-hot\nirons, he commanded to be anointed with honey and laid on his back under\na burning sun, with his hands tied behind him; in order, forsooth, that\nhe who had already conquered the fiery gridiron, might yield to the\nstings of flies.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nIn those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul left at the death of both\nhis parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister already married; being\nabout fifteen years old, well taught in Greek and Egyptian letters,\ngentle tempered, loving God much; and, when the storm of persecution\nburst, he withdrew into a distant city.  But\n\n    \u201cTo what dost thou not urge the human breast\n    Curst hunger after gold?\u201d\n\nHis sister\u2019s husband was ready to betray him whom he should have\nconcealed.  Neither the tears of his wife, the tie of blood, or God who\nlooks on all things from on high, could call him back from his crime.  He\nwas at hand, ready to seize him, making piety a pretext for cruelty.  The\nboy discovered it, and fled into the desert hills.  Once there he changed\nneed into pleasure, and going on, and then stopping awhile, again and\nagain, reached at last a stony cliff, at the foot whereof was, nigh at\nhand, a great cave, its mouth closed with a stone.  Having moved which\naway (as man\u2019s longing is to know the hidden), exploring more greedily,\nhe sees within a great hall, open to the sky above, but shaded by the\nspreading boughs of an ancient palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill\nfrom which, flowing a short space forth, was sucked up again by the same\nsoil which had given it birth.  There were besides in that cavernous\nmountain not a few dwellings, in which he saw rusty anvils and hammers,\nwith which coin had been stamped of old.  For this place (so books say)\nwas the workshop for base coin in the days when Antony lived with\nCleopatra.\n\nTherefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God, he\nspent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree gave him\nfood and clothes; which lest it should seem impossible to some, I call\nJesus and his holy angels to witness that I have seen monks one of whom,\nshut up for thirty years, lived on barley bread and muddy water; another\nin an old cistern, which in the country speech they call the Syrian\u2019s\nbed, was kept alive on five figs each day.  These things, therefore, will\nseem incredible to those who do not believe; for to those who do believe\nall things are possible.\n\nBut to return thither whence I digressed.  When the blessed Paul had been\nleading the heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and Antony, ninety\nyears old, was dwelling in another solitude, this thought (so Antony was\nwont to assert) entered his mind\u2014that no monk more perfect than he had\nsettled in the desert.  But as he lay still by night, it was revealed to\nhim that there was another monk beyond him far better than he, to visit\nwhom he must set out.  So when the light broke, the venerable old man,\nsupporting his weak limbs on a staff, began to will to go, he knew not\nwhither.  And now the mid day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce;\nand yet he was not turned from the journey he had begun, saying, \u201cI trust\nin my God, that he will show his servant that which he has promised.\u201d\nAnd as he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets have given\nthe name of Hippocentaur.  Seeing whom, he crosses his forehead with the\nsalutary impression of the Cross, and, \u201cHere!\u201d he says, \u201cin what part\nhere does a servant of God dwell?\u201d  But he, growling I know not what\nbarbarous sound, and grinding rather than uttering, the words, attempted\na courteous speech from lips rough with bristles, and, stretching out his\nright hand, pointed to the way; then, fleeing swiftly across the open\nplains, vanished from the eyes of the wondering Antony.  But whether the\ndevil took this form to terrify him; or whether the desert, fertile (as\nis its wont) in monstrous animals, begets that beast likewise, we hold as\nuncertain.\n\nSo Antony, astonished, and thinking over what he had seen, goes forward.\nSoon afterwards, he sees in a stony valley a short manikin, with crooked\nnose and brow rough with horns, whose lower parts ended in goat\u2019s feet.\nUndismayed by this spectacle likewise, Antony seized, like a good\nwarrior, the shield of faith and habergeon of hope; the animal, however,\nwas bringing him dates, as food for his journey, and a pledge of peace.\nWhen he saw that, Antony pushed on, and, asking him who he was, was\nanswered, \u201cI am a mortal, and one of the inhabitants of the desert, whom\nthe Gentiles, deluded by various errors, worship by the name of Fauns,\nSatyrs, and Incubi.  I come as ambassador from our herd, that thou mayest\npray for us to the common God, who, we know, has come for the salvation\nof the world, and his sound is gone out into all lands.\u201d  As he spoke\nthus, the aged wayfarer bedewed his face plenteously with tears, which\nthe greatness of his joy had poured forth as signs of his heart.  For he\nrejoiced at the glory of Christ, and the destruction of Satan; and,\nwondering at the same time that he could understand the creature\u2019s\nspeech, he smote on the ground with his staff, and said, \u201cWoe to thee,\nAlexandria, who worshippest portents instead of God!  Woe to thee, harlot\ncity, into which all the demons of the world have flowed together!  What\nwilt thou say now?  Beasts talk of Christ, and thou worshippest portents\ninstead of God.\u201d  He had hardly finished his words, when the swift beast\nfled away as upon wings.  Lest this should move a scruple in any one on\naccount of its incredibility, it was corroborated, in the reign of\nConstantine, by the testimony of the whole world.  For a man of that\nkind, being led alive to Alexandria, afforded a great spectacle to the\npeople; and afterwards the lifeless carcase, being salted lest it should\ndecay in the summer heat, was brought to Antioch, to be seen by the\nEmperor.\n\nBut\u2014to go on with my tale\u2014Antony went on through that region, seeing only\nthe tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of the desert.  What he\nshould do, or whither turn, he knew not.  A second day had now run by.\nOne thing remained, to be confident that he could not be deserted by\nChrist.  All night through he spent a second darkness in prayer, and\nwhile the light was still dim, he sees afar a she-wolf, panting with heat\nand thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain.  Following her with\nhis eyes, and drawing nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began\nto look in: but in vain; for the darkness stopped his view.  However, as\nthe Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and\nbated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly, and\nstopping often, watched for a sound.  At length he saw afar off a light\nthrough the horror of the darkness; hastened on more greedily; struck his\nfoot against a stone; and made a noise, at which the blessed Paul shut\nand barred his door, which had stood open.\n\nThen Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there till\nthe sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, \u201cWho I am, and whence,\nand why I am come, thou knowest.  I know that I deserve not to see thy\nface; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return.  Thou who receivest\nbeasts, why repellest thou a man?  I have sought, and I have found.  I\nknock, that it may be opened to me: which if I win not, here will I die\nbefore thy gate.  Surely thou shalt at least bury my corpse.\u201d\n\n    \u201cPersisting thus he spoke, and stood there fixed:\n    To whom the hero shortly thus replied.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one begs thus to threaten.  No one does injury with tears.  And dost\nthou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal guest?\u201d\n\nThen Paul, smiling, opened the door.  They mingled mutual embraces, and\nsaluted each other by their names, and committed themselves in common to\nthe grace of God.  And after the holy kiss, Paul sitting down with Antony\nthus began\u2014\n\n\u201cBehold him, whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs decayed\nby age, and covered with unkempt white hair.  Behold, thou seest but a\nmortal, soon to become dust.  But, because charity bears all things, tell\nme, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether new houses are rising\nin the ancient cities? by what emperor is the world governed? whether\nthere are any left who are led captive by the deceits of the devil?\u201d  As\nthey spoke thus, they saw a raven settle on a bough; who, flying gently\ndown, laid, to their wonder, a whole loaf before them.  When he was gone,\n\u201cAh,\u201d said Paul, \u201cthe Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a\nmeal.  For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf, but at thy\ncoming Christ hath doubled his soldiers\u2019 allowance.\u201d  Then, having\nthanked God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.\n\nBut here a contention arising as to which of them should break the loaf,\noccupied the day till well-nigh evening.  Paul insisted, as the host;\nAntony declined, as the younger man.  At last it was agreed that they\nshould take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and each pull towards\nhimself, and keep what was left in his hand.  Next they stooped down, and\ndrank a little water from the spring; then, immolating to God the\nsacrifice of praise, passed the night watching.\n\nAnd when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, \u201cI knew long\nsince, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long since God\nhad promised thee to me as a fellow servant: but because the time of my\nfalling asleep is now come, and (because I always longed to depart, and\nto be with Christ) there is laid up for me when I have finished my course\na crown of righteousness; therefore thou art sent from the Lord to cover\nmy corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.\u201d\n\nAntony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert him,\nbut take him as his companion on such a journey.  But he said, \u201cThou must\nnot seek the things which are thine own, but the things of others.  It is\nexpedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden of the flesh, and to\nfollow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest of the brethren that\nthey should be still trained by thine example.  Wherefore go, unless it\ndisplease thee, and bring the cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave\nthee, to wrap up my corpse.\u201d  But this the blessed Paul asked, not\nbecause he cared greatly whether his body decayed covered or bare (as one\nwho for so long a time was used to clothe himself with woven palm\nleaves), but that Antony\u2019s grief at his death might be lightened when he\nleft him.  Antony astounded that he had heard of Athanasius and his own\ncloak, seeing as it were Christ in Paul, and venerating the God within\nhis breast, dared answer nothing: but keeping in silence, and kissing his\neyes and hands, returned to the monastery, which afterwards was occupied\nby the Saracens.  His steps could not follow his spirit; but, although\nhis body was empty with fastings, and broken with old age, yet his\ncourage conquered his years.  At last, tired and breathless, he arrived\nat home.  There two disciples met him, who had been long sent to minister\nto him, and asked him, \u201cWhere hast thou tarried so long, father?\u201d  He\nanswered, \u201cWoe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of a monk.  I\nhave seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul\nin Paradise;\u201d and so, closing his lips, and beating his breast, he took\nthe cloak from his cell, and when his disciples asked him to explain more\nfully what had befallen, he said, \u201cThere is a time to be silent, and a\ntime to speak.\u201d  Then going out, and not taking even a morsel of food, he\nreturned by the way he had come.  For he feared\u2014what actually\nhappened\u2014lest Paul in his absence should render up the soul he owed to\nChrist.\n\n                    [Picture: Paul, the first Hermit]\n\nAnd when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps for\nthree hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of prophets and\napostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on high; and forthwith\nfalling on his face, he cast sand on his head, and weeping and wailing,\nsaid, \u201cWhy dost thou dismiss me, Paul?  Why dost thou depart without a\nfarewell?  So late known, dost thou vanish so soon?\u201d  The blessed Antony\nused to tell afterwards, how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly that\nhe flew like a bird.  Nor without cause.  For entering the cave he saw,\nwith bended knees, erect neck, and hands spread out on high, a lifeless\ncorpse.  And at first, thinking that it still lived, he prayed in like\nwise.  But when he heard no sighs (as usual) come from the worshipper\u2019s\nbreast, he fell to a tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse of\nthe saint was praying, in seemly attitude, to that God to whom all live.\n\nSo, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting hymns of\nthe Christian tradition, Antony grew sad, because he had no spade,\nwherewith to dig the ground; and thinking over many plans in his mind,\nsaid, \u201cIf I go back to the monastery, it is a three days\u2019 journey.  If I\nstay here, I shall be of no more use.  I will die, then, as it is fit;\nand, falling beside thy warrior, Christ, breathe my last breath.\u201d\n\nAs he was thinking thus to himself, lo! two lions came running from the\ninner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks; seeing whom\nhe shuddered at first; and then, turning his mind to God, remained\nfearless, as though he were looking upon doves.  They came straight to\nthe corpse of the blessed old man, and crouched at his feet, wagging\ntheir tails, and roaring with mighty growls, so that Antony understood\nthem to lament, as best they could.  Then not far off they began to claw\nthe ground with their paws, and, carrying out the sand eagerly, dug a\nplace large enough to hold a man: then at once, as if begging a reward\nfor their work, they came to Antony, drooping their necks, and licking\nhis hands and feet.  But he perceived that they prayed a blessing from\nhim; and at once, bursting into praise of Christ, because even dumb\nanimals felt that he was God, he saith, \u201cLord, without whose word not a\nleaf of the tree drops, nor one sparrow falls to the ground, give to them\nas thou knowest how to give.\u201d  And, signing to them with his hand, he\nbade them go.\n\nAnd when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight of\nthe holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it, and\nraised a mound as is the wont.  And when another dawn shone, lest the\npious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the intestate dead,\nhe kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven, as baskets are made,\nout of the leaves of the palm; and returning to the monastery, told his\ndisciples all throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter and\nPentecost, always clothed himself in Paul\u2019s tunic.\n\nI am inclined, at the end of my treatise, to ask those who know not the\nextent of their patrimonies; who cover their houses with marbles; who sew\nthe price of whole farms into their garments with a single thread\u2014What\nwas ever wanting to this naked old man?  Ye drink from a gem; he\nsatisfied nature from the hollow of his hands.  Ye weave gold into your\ntunics; he had not even the vilest garment of your bond-slave.  But, on\nthe other hand, to that poor man Paradise is open; you, gilded as you\nare, Gehenna will receive.  He, though naked, kept the garment of Christ;\nyou, clothed in silk, have lost Christ\u2019s robe.  Paul lies covered with\nthe meanest dust, to rise in glory; you are crushed by wrought sepulchres\nof stone, to burn with all your works.  Spare, I beseech you, yourselves;\nspare, at least, the riches which you love.  Why do you wrap even your\ndead in golden vestments?  Why does not ambition stop amid grief and\ntears?  Cannot the corpses of the rich decay, save in silk?  I beseech\nthee, whosoever thou art that readest this, to remember Hieronymus the\nsinner, who, if the Lord gave him choice, would much sooner choose Paul\u2019s\ntunic with his merits, than the purple of kings with their punishments.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThis is the story of Paul and Antony, as told by Jerome.  But, in justice\nto Antony himself, it must be said that the sayings recorded of him seem\nto show that he was not the mere visionary ascetic which his biographers\nhave made him.  Some twenty sermons are attributed to him, seven of which\nonly are considered to be genuine.  A rule for monks, too, is called his:\nbut, as it is almost certain that he could neither read nor write, we\nhave no proof that any of these documents convey his actual language.  If\nthe seven sermons attributed to him be really his, it must be said for\nthem that they are full of sound doctrine and vital religion, and worthy,\nas wholes, to be preached in any English church, if we only substitute\nfor the word \u201cmonk,\u201d the word \u201cman.\u201d\n\nBut there are records of Antony which represent him as a far more genial\nand human personage; full of a knowledge of human nature, and of a\ntenderness and sympathy, which account for his undoubted power over the\nminds of men; and showing, too, at times, a certain covert and \u201cpawky\u201d\nhumour which puts us in mind, as does the humour of many of the Egyptian\nhermits, of the old-fashioned Scotch.  These reminiscences are contained\nin the \u201cWords of the Elders,\u201d a series of anecdotes of the desert fathers\ncollected by various hands; which are, after all, the most interesting\nand probably the most trustworthy accounts of them and their ways.  I\nshall have occasion to quote them later.  I insert here some among them\nwhich relate to Antony.\n\n\n\nSAYINGS OF ANTONY, FROM THE \u201cWORDS OF THE ELDERS.\u201d\n\n\nA MONK gave away his wealth to the poor, but kept back some for himself.\nAntony said to him, \u201cGo to the village and buy meat, and bring it to me\non thy bare back.\u201d  He did so: and the dogs and birds attacked him, and\ntore him as well as the meat.  Quoth Antony, \u201cSo are those who renounce\nthe world, and yet must needs have money, torn by d\u00e6mons.\u201d\n\nAntony heard high praise of a certain brother; but, when he tested him,\nhe found that he was impatient under injury.  Quoth Antony, \u201cThou art\nlike a house which has a gay porch, but is broken into by thieves through\nthe back door.\u201d\n\nAntony, as he sat in the desert, was weary in heart, and said, \u201cLord, I\nlong to be saved, but my wandering thoughts will not let me.  Show me\nwhat I shall do.\u201d  And looking up, he saw one like himself twisting\nropes, and rising up to pray.  And the angel (for it was one) said to\nhim, \u201cWork like me, Antony, and you shall be saved.\u201d\n\nOne asked him how he could please God.  Quoth Antony, \u201cHave God always\nbefore thine eyes; whatever work thou doest, take example for it out of\nHoly Scripture: wherever thou stoppest, do not move thence in a hurry,\nbut abide there in patience.  If thou keepest these three things, thou\nshalt be saved.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cIf the baker did not cover the mill-horse\u2019s eyes he would\neat the corn, and take his own wages.  So God covers our eyes, by leaving\nus to sordid thoughts, lest we should think of our own good works, and be\npuffed up in spirit.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cI saw all the snares of the enemy spread over the whole\nearth.  And I sighed, and said, \u2018Who can pass through these?\u2019  And a\nvoice came to me, saying, \u2018Humility alone can pass through, Antony, where\nthe proud can in no wise go.\u2019\u201d\n\nAntony was sitting in his cell, and a voice said to him, \u201cThou hast not\nyet come to the stature of a currier, who lives in Alexandria.\u201d  Then he\ntook his staff, and went down to Alexandria; and the currier, when he\nfound him, was astonished at seeing so great a man.  Said Antony, \u201cTell\nme thy works; for on thy account have I come out of the desert.\u201d  And he\nanswered, \u201cI know not that I ever did any good; and, therefore, when I\nrise in the morning, I say that this whole city, from the greatest to the\nleast, will enter into the kingdom of God for their righteousness: while\nI, for my sins, shall go to eternal pain.  And this I say over again,\nfrom the bottom of my heart, when I lie down at night.\u201d  When Antony\nheard that, he said, \u201cLike a good goldsmith, thou hast gained the kingdom\nof God sitting still in thy house; while I, as one without discretion,\nhave been haunting the desert all my time, and yet not arrived at the\nmeasure of thy saying.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cIf a monk could tell his elders how many steps he walks,\nor how many cups of water he drinks, in his cell, he ought to tell them,\nfor fear of going wrong therein.\u201d\n\nAt Alexandria, Antony met one Didymus, most learned in the Scriptures,\nwitty, and wise: but he was blind.  Antony asked him, \u201cArt thou not\ngrieved at thy blindness?\u201d  He was silent: but being pressed by Antony,\nhe confessed that he was sad thereat.  Quoth Antony, \u201cI wonder that a\nprudent man grieves over the loss of a thing which ants, and flies, and\ngnats have, instead of rejoicing in that possession which the holy\nApostles earned.  For it is better to see with the spirit than with the\nflesh.\u201d\n\nA Father asked Antony, \u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d  Quoth the old man, \u201cTrust not\nin thine own righteousness; regret not the thing which is past; bridle\nthy tongue and thy stomach.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cHe who sits still in the desert is safe from three\nenemies: from hearing, from speech, from sight: and has to fight against\nonly one, his own heart.\u201d\n\nA young monk came and told Antony how he had seen some old men weary on\ntheir journey, and had bidden the wild asses to come and carry him, and\nthey came.  Quoth Antony, \u201cThat monk looks to me like a ship laden with a\nprecious cargo; but whether it will get into port is uncertain.\u201d  And\nafter some days he began to tear his hair and weep; and when they asked\nhim why, he said, \u201cA great pillar of the Church has just fallen;\u201d and he\nsent brothers to see the young man, and found him sitting on his mat,\nweeping over a great sin which he had done; and he said, \u201cTell Antony to\ngive me ten days\u2019 truce, and I hope I shall satisfy him;\u201d and in five\ndays he was dead.\n\nAbbot Elias fell into temptation, and the brethren drove him out.  Then\nhe went to the mountain to Antony.  After awhile, Antony sent him home to\nhis brethren; but they would not receive him.  Then the old man sent to\nthem, and saying, \u201cA ship has been wrecked at sea, and lost all its\ncargo; and, with much toil, the ship is come empty to land.  Will you\nsink it again in the sea?\u201d  So they took Elias back.\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cThere are some who keep their bodies in abstinence: but,\nbecause they have no discretion, they are far from God.\u201d\n\nA hunter came by, and saw Antony rejoicing with the brethren, and it\ndispleased him.  Quoth Antony, \u201cPut an arrow in thy bow, and draw;\u201d and\nhe did.  Quoth Antony, \u201cDraw higher;\u201d and again, \u201cDraw higher still.\u201d\nAnd he said, \u201cIf I overdraw, I shall break my bow.\u201d  Quoth Antony, \u201cSo it\nis in the work of God.  If we stretch the brethren beyond measure, they\nfail.\u201d\n\nA brother said to Antony, \u201cPray for me.\u201d  Quoth he, \u201cI cannot pity thee,\nnor God either, unless thou pitiest thyself, and prayest to God.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cThe Lord does not permit wars to arise in this generation,\nbecause he knows that men are weak, and cannot bear them.\u201d\n\nAntony, as he considered the depths of the judgments of God, failed; and\nsaid, \u201cLord, why do some die so early, and some live on to a decrepit\nage?  Why are some needy, and others rich?  Why are the unjust wealthy,\nand the just poor?\u201d  And a voice came to him, \u201cAntony, look to thyself.\nThese are the judgments of God, which are not fit for thee to know.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony to Abbot Pastor, \u201cThis is a man\u2019s great business\u2014to lay each\nman his own fault on himself before the Lord, and to expect temptation to\nthe last day of his life.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cIf a man works a few days, and then is idle, and works\nagain and is idle again, he does nothing, and will not possess the\nperseverance of patience.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony to his disciples, \u201cIf you try to keep silence, do not think\nthat you are exercising a virtue, but that you are unworthy to speak.\u201d\n\nCertain old men came once to Antony; and he wished to prove them, and\nbegan to talk of holy Scripture, and to ask them, beginning at the\nyoungest, what this and that text meant.  And each answered as best they\ncould.  But he kept on saying, \u201cYou have not yet found it out.\u201d  And at\nlast he asked Abbot Joseph, \u201cAnd what dost thou think this text means?\u201d\nQuoth Abbot Joseph, \u201cI do not know.\u201d  Quoth Antony, \u201cAbbot Joseph alone\nhas found out the way, for he says he does not know it.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cI do not now fear God, but love Him, for love drives out\nfear.\u201d\n\nHe said again, \u201cLife and death are very near us; for if we gain our\nbrother, we gain God: but if we cause our brother to offend, we sin\nagainst Christ.\u201d\n\nA philosopher asked Antony, \u201cHow art thou content, father, since thou\nhast not the comfort of books?\u201d  Quoth Antony, \u201cMy book is the nature of\ncreated things.  In it, when I choose, I can read the words of God.\u201d\n\nBrethren came to Antony, and asked of him a saying by which they might be\nsaved.  Quoth he, \u201cYe have heard the Scriptures, and know what Christ\nrequires of you.\u201d  But they begged that he would tell them something of\nhis own.  Quoth he, \u201cThe Gospel says, \u2018If a man smite you on one cheek,\nturn to him the other.\u2019\u201d  But they said that they could not do that.\nQuoth he, \u201cYou cannot turn the other cheek to him?  Then let him smite\nyou again on the same one.\u201d  But they said they could not do that either.\nThen said he, \u201cIf you cannot, at least do not return evil for evil.\u201d  And\nwhen they said that neither could they do that, quoth Antony to his\ndisciples, \u201cGo, get them something to eat, for they are very weak.\u201d  And\nhe said to them, \u201cIf you cannot do the one, and will not have the other,\nwhat do you want?  As I see, what you want is prayer.  That will heal\nyour weakness.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cHe who would be free from his sins must be so by weeping\nand mourning; and he who would be built up in virtue must be built up by\ntears.\u201d\n\nQuoth Antony, \u201cWhen the stomach is full of meat, forthwith the great\nvices bubble out, according to that which the Saviour says: \u2018That which\nentereth into the mouth defileth not a man; but that which cometh out of\nthe heart sinks a man in destruction.\u2019\u201d\n\n[This may be a somewhat paradoxical application of the text: but the last\nanecdote of Antony which I shall quote is full of wisdom and humanity.]\n\nA monk came from Alexandria, Eulogius by name, bringing with him a man\nafflicted with elephantiasis.  Now Eulogius had been a scholar, learned,\nand rich, and had given away all he had save a very little, which he kept\nbecause he could not work with his own hands.\n\nAnd he told Antony how he had found that wretched man lying in the street\nfifteen years before, having lost then nearly every member save his\ntongue, and how he had taken him home to his cell, nursed him, bathed\nhim, physicked him, fed him; and how the man had returned him nothing\nsave slanders, curses, and insults; how he had insisted on having meat,\nand had had it; and on going out in public, and had company brought to\nhim; and how he had at last demanded to be put down again whence he had\nbeen taken, always cursing and slandering.  And now Eulogius could bear\nthe man no longer, and was minded to take him at his word.\n\nThen said Antony with an angry voice, \u201cWilt thou cast him out, Eulogius?\nHe who remembers that he made him, will not cast him out.  If thou cast\nhim out, he will find a better friend than thee.  God will choose some\none who will take him up when he is cast away.\u201d  Eulogius was terrified\nat these words, and held his peace.\n\nThen went Antony to the sick man, and shouted at him, \u201cThou elephantiac,\nfoul with mud and dirt, not worthy of the third heaven, wilt thou not\nstop shouting blasphemies against God?  Dost thou not know that he who\nministers to thee is Christ?  How darest thou say such things against\nChrist?\u201d  And he bade Eulogius and the sick man go back to their cell,\nand live in peace, and never part more.  Both went back, and, after forty\ndays, Eulogius died, and the sick man shortly after, \u201caltogether whole in\nspirit.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nHILARION\n\n\nI WOULD gladly, did space allow, give more biographies from among those\nof the Egyptian hermits: but it seems best, having shown the reader\nAntony as the father of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his great pupil\nHilarion, the father of monachism in Palestine.  His life stands written\nat length by St. Jerome, who himself died a monk at Bethlehem; and is\ncomposed happily in a less ambitious and less rugged style than that of\nPaul, not without elements of beauty, even of tragedy.\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\nRemember me in thy holy prayers, glory and honour of virgins, nun Asella.\nBefore beginning to write the life of the blessed Hilarion, I invoke the\nHoly Spirit which dwelt in him, that, as he largely bestowed virtues on\nHilarion, he may give to me speech wherewith to relate them; so that his\ndeeds may be equalled by my language.  For those who (as Crispus says)\n\u201chave wrought virtues\u201d are held to have been worthily praised in\nproportion to the words in which famous intellects have been able to\nextol them.  Alexander the Great, the Macedonian (whom Daniel calls\neither the brass, or the leopard, or the he-goat), on coming to the tomb\nof Achilles, \u201cHappy art thou, youth,\u201d he said, \u201cwho hast been blest with\na great herald of thy worth\u201d\u2014meaning Homer.  But I have to tell the\nconversation and life of such and so great a man, that even Homer, were\nhe here, would either envy my matter, or succumb under it.\n\nFor although St. Epiphanius, bishop of Salamina in Cyprus, who had much\nintercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a short epistle,\nwhich is commonly read, yet it is one thing to praise the dead in general\nphrases, another to relate his special virtues.  We therefore set to work\nrather to his advantage than to his injury; and despise those\nevil-speakers who lately carped at Paul, and will perhaps now carp at my\nHilarion, unjustly blaming the former for his solitary life, and the\nlatter for his intercourse with men; in order that the one, who was never\nseen, may be supposed not to have existed; the other, who was seen by\nmany, may be held cheap.  This was the way of their ancestors likewise,\nthe Pharisees, who were neither satisfied with John\u2019s desert life and\nfasting, nor with the Lord Saviour\u2019s public life, eating and drinking.\nBut I shall lay my hand to the work which I have determined, and pass by,\nwith stopped ears, the hounds of Scylla.  I pray that thou mayest\npersevere in Christ, and be mindful of me in thy prayers, most sacred\nvirgin.\n\n\n\nTHE LIFE\n\n\nHILARION was born in the village of Thabatha, which lies about five miles\nto the south of Gaza, in Palestine.  He had parents given to the worship\nof idols, and blossomed (as the saying is) a rose among the thorns.  Sent\nby them to Alexandria, he was entrusted to a grammarian, and there, as\nfar as his years allowed, gave proof of great intellect and good morals.\nHe was soon dear to all, and skilled in the art of speaking.  And, what\nis more than all, he believed in the Lord Jesus, and delighted neither in\nthe madness of the circus, in the blood of the arena, or in the luxury of\nthe theatre: but all his heart was in the congregation of the Church.\n\nBut hearing the then famous name of Antony, which was carried throughout\nall Egypt, he was fired with a longing to visit him, and went to the\ndesert.  As soon as he saw him he changed his dress, and stayed with him\nabout two months, watching the order of his life, and the purity of his\nmanner; how frequent he was in prayers, how humble in receiving brethren,\nsevere in reproving them, eager in exhorting them; and how no infirmity\never broke through his continence, and the coarseness of his food.  But,\nunable to bear longer the crowd which assembled round Antony, for various\ndiseases and attacks of devils, he said that it was not consistent to\nendure in the desert the crowds of cities, but that he must rather begin\nwhere Antony had begun.  Antony, as a valiant man, was receiving the\nreward of victory: he had not yet begun to serve as a soldier.  He\nreturned, therefore, with certain monks to his own country; and, finding\nhis parents dead, gave away part of his substance to the brethren, part\nto the poor, and kept nothing at all for himself, fearing what is told in\nthe Acts of the Apostles, the example or punishment, of Ananias and\nSapphira; and especially mindful of the Lord\u2019s saying\u2014\u201cHe that leaveth\nnot all that he hath, he cannot be my disciple.\u201d\n\nHe was then fifteen years old.  So, naked, but armed in Christ, he\nentered the desert, which, seven miles from Maiuma, the port of Gaza,\nturns away to the left of those who go along the shore towards Egypt.\nAnd though the place was blood-stained by robbers, and his relations and\nfriends warned him of the imminent danger, he despised death, in order to\nescape death.  All wondered at his spirit, wondered at his youth.  Save\nthat a certain fire of the bosom and spark of faith glittered in his\neyes, his cheeks were smooth, his body delicate and thin, unable to bear\nany injury, and liable to be overcome by even a light chill or heat.\n\nSo, covering his limbs only with a sackcloth, and having a cloak of skin,\nwhich the blessed Antony had given him at starting, and a rustic cloak,\nbetween the sea and the swamp, he enjoyed the vast and terrible solitude,\nfeeding on only fifteen figs after the setting of the sun; and because\nthe region was, as has been said above, of ill-repute from robberies, no\nman had ever stayed before in that place.  The devil, seeing what he was\ndoing and whither he had gone, was tormented.  And though he, who of old\nboasted, saying, \u201cI shall ascend into heaven, I shall sit above the stars\nof heaven, and shall be like unto the Most High,\u201d now saw that he had\nbeen conquered by a boy, and trampled under foot by him, ere, on account\nof his youth, he could commit sin.  He therefore began to tempt his\nsenses; but he, enraged with himself, and beating his breast with his\nfist, as if he could drive out thoughts by blows, \u201cI will force thee,\nmine ass,\u201d said he, \u201cnot to kick; and feed thee with straw, not barley.\nI will wear thee out with hunger and thirst; I will burden thee with\nheavy loads; I will hunt thee through heat and cold, till thou thinkest\nmore of food than of play.\u201d  He therefore sustained his fainting spirit\nwith the juice of herbs and a few figs, after each three or four days,\npraying frequently, and singing psalms, and digging the ground with a\nmattock, to double the labour of fasting by that of work.  At the same\ntime, by weaving baskets of rushes, he imitated the discipline of the\nEgyptian monks, and the Apostle\u2019s saying\u2014\u201cHe that will not work, neither\nlet him eat\u201d\u2014till he was so attenuated, and his body so exhausted, that\nit scarce clung to his bones.\n\nOne night he began to hear the crying {108} of infants, the bleating of\nsheep, the wailing of women, the roaring of lions, the murmur of an army,\nand utterly portentous and barbarous voices; so that he shrank frightened\nby the sound ere he saw aught.  He understood these to be the insults of\ndevils; and, falling on his knees, he signed the cross of Christ on his\nforehead, and armed with that helmet, and girt with the breastplate of\nfaith, he fought more valiantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he\nshuddered to hear, and looking round him with anxious eyes: when, without\nwarning, by the bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery horses\nrushing upon him.  But when he had called on Jesus, the earth opened\nsuddenly, and the whole pomp was swallowed up before his eyes.  Then said\nhe, \u201cThe horse and his rider he hath drowned in the sea;\u201d and \u201cSome glory\nthemselves in chariots, and some in horses: but we in the name of the\nLord our God.\u201d  Many were his temptations, and various, by day and night,\nthe snares of the devils.  If we were to tell them all, they would make\nthe volume too long.  How often did women appear to him; how often\nplenteous banquets when he was hungry.  Sometimes as he prayed, a howling\nwolf ran past him, or a barking fox; or as he sang, a fight of gladiators\nmade a show for him: and one of them, as if slain, falling at his feet,\nprayed for sepulture.  He prayed once with his head bowed to the ground,\nand\u2014as is the nature of man\u2014his mind wandered from his prayer, and\nthought of I know not what, when a mocking rider leaped on his back, and\nspurring his sides, and whipping his neck, \u201cCome,\u201d he cries, \u201ccome, run!\nwhy do you sleep?\u201d and, laughing loudly over him, asked him if he were\ntired, or would have a feed of barley.\n\nSo from his sixteenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltered from the\nheat and rain in a tiny cabin, which he had woven of rush and sedge.\nAfterwards he built a little cell, which remains to this day, four feet\nwide and five feet high\u2014that is, lower than his own stature\u2014and somewhat\nlonger than his small body needed, so that you would believe it to be a\ntomb rather than a dwelling.  He cut his hair only once a year, on\nEaster-day, and lay till his death on the bare ground and a layer of\nrushes, never washing the sack in which he was clothed, and saying that\nit was superfluous to seek for cleanliness in haircloth.  Nor did he\nchange his tunic, till the first was utterly in rags.  He knew the\nScriptures by heart, and recited them after his prayers and psalms as if\nGod were present.  And, because it would take up too much time to tell\nhis great deeds one by one, I will give a short account of them.\n\n[Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those attributed to St.\nAntony, and, indeed, to all these great Hermit Fathers.  But it is\nunnecessary to relate more wonders which the reader cannot be expected to\nbelieve.  These miracles, however, according to St. Jerome, were the\nfoundations of Hilarion\u2019s fame and public career.  For he says, \u201cWhen\nthey were noised abroad, people flowed to him eagerly from Syria to\nEgypt, so that many believed in Christ, and professed themselves to be\nmonks\u2014for no one had known of a monk in Syria before the holy Hilarion.\nHe was the first founder and teacher of this conversation and study in\nthe province.  The Lord Jesus had in Egypt the old man Antony; he had in\nPalestine the young Hilarion . . .  He was raised, indeed, by the Lord to\nsuch a glory, that the blessed Antony, hearing of his conversation, wrote\nto him, and willingly received his letters; and if rich people came to\nhim from the parts of Syria, he said to them, \u2018Why have you chosen to\ntrouble yourselves by coming so far, when you have at home my son\nHilarion?\u2019  So by his example innumerable monasteries arose throughout\nall Palestine, and all monks came eagerly to him . . . But what a care he\nhad, not to pass by any brother, however humble or however poor, may be\nshown by this; that once going into the Desert of Kadesh, to visit one of\nhis disciples, he came, with an infinite crowd of monks, to Elusa, on the\nvery day, as it chanced, on which a yearly solemnity had gathered all the\npeople of the town to the Temple of Venus; for they honour her on account\nof the morning star, to the worship of which the nation of the Saracens\nis devoted.  The town itself too is said to be in great part\nsemi-barbarous, on account of its remote situation.  Hearing, then, that\nthe holy Hilarion was passing by\u2014for he had often cured Saracens\npossessed with d\u00e6mons\u2014they came out to meet him in crowds, with their\nwives and children, bowing their necks, and crying in the Syrian tongue,\n\u2018Barech!\u2019 that is, \u2018Bless!\u2019  He received them courteously and humbly,\nentreating them to worship God rather than stones, and wept abundantly,\nlooking up to heaven, and promising them that, if they would believe in\nChrist, he would come oftener to them.  Wonderful was the grace of the\nLord.  They would not let him depart till he had laid the foundations of\na future church, and their priest, crowned as he was, had been\nconsecrated with the sign of Christ.\u201d\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nHe was now sixty-three years old.  He saw about him a great monastery, a\nmultitude of brethren, and crowds who came to be healed of diseases and\nunclean spirits, filling the solitude around; but he wept daily, and\nremembered with incredible regret his ancient life.  \u201cI have returned to\nthe world,\u201d he said, \u201cand received my reward in this life.  All Palestine\nand the neighbouring provinces think me to be worth somewhat; while I\npossess a farm and household goods, under the pretext of the brethren\u2019s\nadvantage.\u201d  On which the brethren, and especially Hesychius, who bore\nhim a wondrous love, watched him narrowly.\n\nWhen he had lived thus sadly for two years, Arist\u00e6neta, the Prefect\u2019s\nwife, came to him, wishing him to go with her to Antony, \u201cI would go,\u201d he\nsaid, weeping, \u201cif I were not held in the prison of this monastery, and\nif it were of any use.  For two days since, the whole world was robbed of\nsuch a father.\u201d  She believed him, and stopped.  And Antony\u2019s death was\nconfirmed a few days after.  Others may wonder at the signs and portents\nwhich he did, at his incredible abstinence, his silence, his miracles: I\nam astonished at nothing so much as that he was able to trample under\nfoot that glory and honour.\n\nBishops and clergy, monks and Christian matrons (a great temptation),\npeople of the common sort, great men, too, and judges crowded to him, to\nreceive from him blessed bread or oil.  But he was thinking of nothing\nbut the desert, till one day he determined to set out, and taking an ass\n(for he was so shrunk with fasting that he could hardly walk), he tried\nto go his way.  The news got wind; the desolation and destruction of\nPalestine would ensue; ten thousand souls, men and women, tried to stop\nhis way; but he would not hear them.  Smiting on the ground with his\nstaff, he said, \u201cI will not make my God a liar.  I cannot bear to see\nchurches ruined, the altars of Christ trampled down, the blood of my sons\nspilt.\u201d  All who heard thought that some secret revelation had been made\nto him: but yet they would not let him go.  Whereon he would neither eat\nnor drink, and for seven days he persevered fasting, till he had his\nwish, and set out for Bethulia, with forty monks, who could march without\nfood till sundown.  On the fifth day he came to Pelusium, then to the\ncamp Thebatrum, to see Dracontius; and then to Babylon to see Philo.\nThese two were bishops and confessors exiled by Constantius, who favoured\nthe Arian heresy.  Then he came to Aphroditon, where he met Barsanes the\ndeacon, who used to carry water to Antony on dromedaries, and heard from\nhim that the anniversary Antony\u2019s death was near, and would be celebrated\nby a vigil at his tomb.  Then through a vast and horrible wilderness, he\nwent for three days to a very high mountain, and found there two monks,\nIsaac and Pelusianus, of whom Isaac had been Antony\u2019s interpreter.\n\nA high and rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at its foot.\nSome of them the sand sucked up; some formed a little rill, with palms\nwithout number on its banks.  There you might have seen the old man\nwandering to and fro with Antony\u2019s disciples.  \u201cHere,\u201d they said, \u201che\nused to sing, here to pray, here to work, here to sit when tired.  These\nvines, these shrubs, he planted himself; that plot he laid out with his\nown hands.  This pond to water the garden he made with heavy toil; that\nhoe he kept for many years.\u201d  Hilarion lay on his bed, and kissed the\ncouch, as if it were still warm.  Antony\u2019s cell was only large enough to\nlet a man lie down in it; and on the mountain top, reached by a difficult\nand winding stair, were two other cells of the same size, cut in the\nstony rock, to which he used to retire from the visitors and disciples,\nwhen they came to the garden.  \u201cYou see,\u201d said Isaac, \u201cthis orchard, with\nshrubs and vegetables.  Three years since a troop of wild asses laid it\nwaste.  He bade one of their leaders stop; and beat it with his staff.\n\u2018Why do you eat,\u2019 he asked it, \u2018what you did not sow?\u2019  And after that\nthe asses, though they came to drink the waters, never touched his\nplants.\u201d\n\nThen Hilarion asked them to show him Antony\u2019s grave.  They led him apart;\nbut whether they showed it to him, no man knows.  They hid it, they said,\nby Antony\u2019s command, lest one Pergamius, who was the richest man of those\nparts, should take the corpse to his villa, and build a chapel over it.\n\nThen he went back to Aphroditon, and with only two brothers, dwelt in the\ndesert, in such abstinence and silence that (so he said) he then first\nbegan to serve Christ.  Now it was then three years since the heaven had\nbeen shut, and the earth dried up: so that they said commonly, the very\nelements mourned the death of Antony.  But Hilarion\u2019s fame spread to\nthem; and a great multitude, brown and shrunken with famine, cried to him\nfor rain, as to the blessed Antony\u2019s successor.  He saw them, and grieved\nover them; and lifting up his hand to heaven, obtained rain at once.  But\nthe thirsty and sandy land, as soon as it was watered by showers, sent\nforth such a crowd of serpents and venomous animals that people without\nnumber were stung, and would have died, had they not run together to\nHilarion.  With oil blessed by him, the husbandmen and shepherds touched\ntheir wounds, and all were surely healed.\n\nBut when he saw that he was marvellously honoured, he went to Alexandria,\nmeaning to cross the desert to the further oasis.  And because since he\nwas a monk he had never stayed in a city, he turned aside to some\nbrethren known to him in the Brucheion {115} not far from Alexandria.\nThey received him with joy: but, when night came on, they suddenly heard\nhim bid his disciples saddle the ass.  In vain they entreated, threw\nthemselves across the threshold.  His only answer was, that he was\nhastening away, lest he should bring them into trouble; they would soon\nknow that he had not departed without good reason.  The next day, men of\nGaza came with the Prefect\u2019s lictors, burst into the monastery, and when\nthey found him not\u2014\u201cIs it not true,\u201d they said, \u201cwhat we heard?  He is a\nsorcerer, and knows the future.\u201d  For the citizens of Gaza, after\nHilarion was gone, and Julian had succeeded to the empire, had destroyed\nhis monastery, and begged from the Emperor the death of Hilarion and\nHesychius.  So letters had been sent forth, to seek them throughout the\nworld.\n\nSo Hilarion went by the pathless wilderness into the Oasis; {116} and\nafter a year, more or less\u2014because his fame had gone before him even\nthere, and he could not lie hid in the East\u2014he was minded to sail away to\nlonely islands, that the sea at least might hide what the land would not.\n\nBut just then Hadrian, his disciple, came from Palestine, telling him\nthat Julian was slain, and that a Christian emperor was reigning; so that\nhe ought to return to the relics of his monastery.  But he abhorred the\nthought; and, hiring a camel, went over the vast desert to Par\u00e6tonia, a\nsea town of Libya.  Then the wretched Hadrian, wishing to go back to\nPalestine and get himself glory under his master\u2019s name, packed up all\nthat the brethren had sent by him to his master, and went secretly away.\nBut\u2014as a terror to those who despise their masters\u2014he shortly after died\nof jaundice.\n\nThen, with Zananas alone, Hilarion went on board ship to sail for Sicily.\nAnd when, almost in the middle of Adria, {117a} he was going to sell the\nGospels which he had written out with his own hand when young, to pay his\nfare withal, then the captain\u2019s son was possessed with a devil, and cried\nout, \u201cHilarion, servant of God, why can we not be safe from thee even at\nsea?  Give me a little respite till I come to the shore, lest, if I be\ncast out here, I fall headlong into the abyss.\u201d  Then said he, \u201cIf my God\nlets thee stay, stay.  But if he cast thee out, why dost thou lay the\nblame on me, a sinner and a beggar?\u201d  Then he made the captain and the\ncrew promise not to betray him: and the devil was cast out.  But the\ncaptain would take no fare when he saw that they had nought but those\nGospels, and the clothes on their backs.  And so Hilarion came to\nPachynum, a cape of Sicily, {117b} and fled twenty miles inland into a\ndeserted farm; and there every day gathered a bundle of firewood, and put\nit on Zananas\u2019s back, who took it to the town, and bought a little bread\nthereby.\n\nBut it happened, according to that which is written, \u201cA city set on an\nhill cannot be hid,\u201d one Scutarius was tormented by a devil in the\nBasilica of St. Peter at Rome; and the unclean spirit cried out in him,\n\u201cA few days since Hilarion, the servant of Christ, landed in Sicily, and\nno man knows him, and he thinks himself hid.  I will go and betray him.\u201d\nAnd forthwith he took ship with his slaves, and came to Pachynum, and, by\nthe leading of the devil, threw himself down before the old man\u2019s hut,\nand was cured.\n\nThe frequency of his signs in Sicily drew to him sick people and\nreligious men in multitudes; and one of the chief men was cured of dropsy\nthe same day that he came, and offered Hilarion boundless gifts: but he\nobeyed the Saviour\u2019s saying, \u201cFreely ye have received; freely give.\u201d\n\nWhile this was happening in Sicily, Hesychius, his disciple, was seeking\nthe old man through the world, searching the shores, penetrating the\ndesert, and only certain that, wherever he was, he could not long be hid.\nSo, after three years were past, he heard at Methone {118} from a Jew,\nwho was selling old clothes, that a prophet of the Christians had\nappeared in Sicily, working such wonders that he was thought to be one of\nthe old saints.  But he could give no description of him, having only\nheard common report.  He sailed for Pachynum, and there, in a cottage on\nthe shore, heard of Hilarion\u2019s fame\u2014that which most surprised all being\nthat, after so many signs and miracles, he had not accepted even a bit of\nbread from any man.\n\nSo, \u201cnot to make the story too long,\u201d as says St. Jerome, Hesychius fell\nat his master\u2019s knees, and watered his feet with tears, till at last he\nraised him up.  But two or three days after he heard from Zananas, how\nthe old man could dwell no longer in these regions, but was minded to go\nto some barbarous nation, where both his name and his speech should be\nunknown.  So he took him to Epidaurus, {119a} a city of Dalmatia, where\nhe lay a few days in a little farm, and yet could not be hid; for a\ndragon of wondrous size\u2014one of those which, in the country speech, they\ncall boas, because they are so huge that they can swallow an ox\u2014laid\nwaste the province, and devoured not only herds and flocks, but\nhusbandmen and shepherds, which he drew to him by the force of his\nbreath. {119b}  Hilarion commanded a pile of wood to be prepared, and\nhaving prayed to Christ, and called the beast forth, commanded him to\nascend the pile, and having put fire under, burnt him before all the\npeople.  Then fretting over what he should do, or whither he should turn,\nhe went alone over the world in imagination, and mourned that, when his\ntongue was silent, his miracles still spoke.\n\nIn those days, at the earthquake over the whole world, which befell after\nJulian\u2019s death, the sea broke its bounds; and, as if God was threatening\nanother flood, or all was returning to the prim\u00e6val chaos, ships were\ncarried up steep rocks, and hung there.  But when the Epidauritans saw\nroaring waves and mountains of water borne towards the shore, fearing\nlest the town should be utterly overthrown, they went out to the old man,\nand, as if they were leading him out to battle, stationed him on the\nshore.  And when he had marked three signs of the Cross upon the sand,\nand stretched out his hands against the waves, it is past belief to what\na height the sea swelled, and stood up before him, and then, raging long\nas if indignant at the barrier, fell back little by little into itself.\n\nAll Epidaurus, and all that region, talk of this to this day; and mothers\nteach it their children, that they may hand it down to posterity.  Truly,\nthat which was said to the Apostles, \u201cIf ye believe, ye shall say to this\nmountain, Be removed, and cast into the sea; and it shall be done,\u201d can\nbe fulfilled even to the letter, if we have the faith of the Apostles,\nand such as the Lord commanded them to have.  For which is more strange,\nthat a mountain should descend into the sea; or that mountains of water\nshould stiffen of a sudden, and, firm as a rock only at an old man\u2019s\nfeet, should flow softly everywhere else?  All the city wondered; and the\ngreatness of the sign was bruited abroad even at Salo.\n\nWhen the old man discovered that, he fled secretly by night in a little\nboat, and finding a merchantman after two days, sailed for Cyprus.\nBetween Male\u00e6 and Cythera {121} they were met by pirates, who had left\ntheir vessels under the shore, and came up in two large galleys, worked\nnot with sails, but oars.  As the rowers swept the billows, all on board\nbegan to tremble, weep, run about, get handspikes ready, and, as if one\nmessenger was not enough, vie with each other in telling the old man that\npirates were at hand.  He looked out at them and smiled.  Then turning to\nhis disciples, \u201cO ye of little faith,\u201d he said; \u201cwherefore do ye doubt?\nAre these more in number than Pharaoh\u2019s army?  Yet they were all drowned\nwhen God so willed.\u201d  While he spoke, the hostile keels, with foaming\nbeaks, were but a short stone\u2019s throw off.  He then stood on the ship\u2019s\nbow, and stretching out his hand against them, \u201cLet it be enough,\u201d he\nsaid, \u201cto have come thus far.\u201d\n\nO wondrous faith!  The boats instantly sprang back, and made stern-way,\nalthough the oars impelled them in the opposite direction.  The pirates\nwere astonished, having no wish to return back-foremost, and struggled\nwith all their might to reach the ship; but were carried to the shore\nagain, much faster than they had come.\n\nI pass over the rest, lest by telling every story I make the volume too\nlong.  This only I will say, that, while he sailed prosperously through\nthe Cyclades, he heard the voices of foul spirits, calling here and there\nout of the towns and villages, and running together on the beaches.  So\nhe came to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous once in poets\u2019 songs, which\nnow, shaken down by frequent earthquakes, only shows what it has been of\nyore by the foundations of its ruins.  There he dwelt meanly near the\nsecond milestone out of the city, rejoicing much that he was living\nquietly for a few days.  But not three weeks were past, ere throughout\nthe whole island whosoever had unclean spirits began to cry that Hilarion\nthe servant of Christ was come, and that they must hasten to him.\nSalonica, Curium, Lapetha, and the other towns, all cried this together,\nmost saying that they knew Hilarion, and that he was truly a servant of\nGod; but where he was they knew not.  Within a month, nearly 200 men and\nwomen were gathered together to him.  Whom when he saw, grieving that\nthey would not suffer him to rest, raging, as it were to revenge himself,\nhe scourged them with such an instancy of prayer, that some were cured at\nonce, some after two or three days, and all within a week.\n\nSo staying there two years, and always meditating flight, he sent\nHesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, visit the ashes of the\nmonastery, and return in the spring.  When he returned, and Hilarion was\nlonging to sail again to Egypt,\u2014that is, to the cattle pastures, {123a}\nbecause there is no Christian there, but only a fierce and barbarous\nfolk,\u2014he persuaded the old man rather to withdraw into some more secret\nspot in the island itself.  And looking round it long till he had\nexamined it all over, he led him away twelve miles from the sea, among\nlonely and rough mountains, where they could hardly climb up, creeping on\nhands and knees.  When they were within, they beheld a spot terrible and\nvery lonely, surrounded with trees, which had, too, waters falling from\nthe brow of a cliff, and a most pleasant little garden, and many\nfruit-trees\u2014the fruit of which, however, Hilarion never ate\u2014and near it\nthe ruin of a very ancient temple, {123b} out of which (so he and his\ndisciples averred) the voices of so many d\u00e6mons resounded day and night,\nthat you would have fancied an army there.  With which he was exceedingly\ndelighted, because he had his foes close to him; and dwelt therein five\nyears; and (while Hesychius often visited him) he was much cheered up in\nthis last period of his life, because owing to the roughness and\ndifficulty of the ground, and the multitude of ghosts (as was commonly\nreported), few, or none, ever dare climb up to him.\n\nBut one day, going out of the little garden, he saw a man paralytic in\nall his limbs, lying before the gate; and having asked Hesychius who he\nwas, and how he had come, he was told that the man was the steward of a\nsmall estate, and that to him the garden, in which they were, belonged.\nHilarion, weeping over him, and stretching a hand to him as he lay, said,\n\u201cI say to thee, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, arise and walk.\u201d\nWonderful was the rapidity of the effect.  The words were yet in his\nmouth, when the limbs, strengthened, raised the man upon his feet.  As\nsoon as it was known, the needs of many conquered the difficulty of the\nground, and the want of a path, while all in the neighbourhood watched\nnothing so carefully, as that he should not by some plan slip away from\nthem.  For the report had been spread about him, that he could not remain\nlong in the same place; which nevertheless he did not do from any\ncaprice, or childishness, but to escape honour and importunity; for he\nalways longed after silence, and an ignoble life.\n\nSo, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was absent, he\nwrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his own hand, leaving to\nHesychius all his riches; namely, his Gospel-book, and a sackcloth-shirt,\nhood, and mantle.  For his servant had died a few days before.  Many\nreligious men came to him from Paphos while he was sick, especially\nbecause they had heard that he had said that now he was going to migrate\nto the Lord, and be freed from the chains of the body.  There came also\nConstantia, a high-born lady, whose son-in-law and daughter he had\ndelivered from death by anointing them with oil.  And he made them all\nswear, that he should not be kept an hour after his death, but covered up\nwith earth in that same garden, clothed, as he was, in his haircloth\nshirt, hood, and rustic cloak.  And now little heat was left in his body,\nand nothing of a living man was left, except his reason: and yet, with\nopen eyes, he went on saying, \u201cGo forth, what fearest thou?  Go forth, my\nsoul, what doubtest thou?  Nigh seventy years hast thou served Christ,\nand dost thou fear death?\u201d  With these words, he breathed out his soul.\nThey covered him forthwith in earth, and told them in the city that he\nwas buried, before it was known that he was dead.\n\nThe holy man Hesychius heard this in Palestine; reached Cyprus; and\npretending, in order to prevent suspicion on the part of the neighbours,\nwho guarded the spot diligently, that he wished to dwell in that same\ngarden, he, after some ten months, with extreme peril of his life, stole\nthe corpse.  He carried it to Maiuma, followed by whole crowds of monks\nand townsfolk, and placed it in the old monastery, with the shirt, hood,\nand cloak unhurt; the whole body perfect, as if alive, and fragrant with\nsuch strong odour, that it seemed to have had unguents poured over it.\n\nI think that I ought not, in the end of my book, to be silent about the\ndevotion of that most holy woman Constantia, who, hearing that the body\nof Hilarion, the servant of God, was gone to Palestine, straightway gave\nup the ghost, proving by her very death her true love for the servant of\nGod.  For she was wont to pass nights in watching his sepulchre, and to\nconverse with him as if he were present, in order to assist her prayers.\nYou may see, even to this day, a wonderful contention between the folk of\nPalestine and the Cypriots, the former saying that they have the body,\nthe latter that they have the soul, of Hilarion.  And yet, in both\nplaces, great signs are worked daily; but most in the little garden in\nCyprus; perhaps because he loved that place the best.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nSuch is the story of Hilarion.  His name still lingers in \u201cthe place he\nloved the best.\u201d  \u201cTo this day,\u201d I quote this fact from M. de\nMontalembert\u2019s work, \u201cthe Cypriots, confounding in their memories legends\nof good and of evil, the victories of the soul and the triumph of the\nsenses, give to the ruins of one of those strong castles built by the\nLusignans, which command their isle, the double name of the Castle of St.\nHilarion, and the Castle of the God of Love.\u201d  But how intense must have\nbeen the longing for solitude which drove the old man to travel on foot\nfrom Syria to the Egyptian desert, across the pathless westward waste,\neven to the Oasis and the utmost limits of the Egyptian province; and\nthen to Sicily, to the Adriatic, and at last to a distant isle of Greece.\nAnd shall we blame him for that longing?  He seems to have done his duty\nearnestly, according to his own light, towards his fellow-creatures\nwhenever he met them.  But he seems to have found that noise and crowd,\ndisplay and honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own soul; and\nin order that he might be a better man he desired again and again to\nflee, that he might collect himself, and be alone with Nature and with\nGod.  We, here in England, like the old Greeks and Romans, dwellers in\nthe busy mart of civilized life, have got to regard mere bustle as so\nintegral an element of human life, that we consider a love of solitude a\nmark of eccentricity, and, if we meet any one who loves to be alone, are\nafraid that he must needs be going mad: and that with too great solitude\ncomes the danger of too great self-consciousness, and even at last of\ninsanity, none can doubt.  But still we must remember, on the other hand,\nthat without solitude, without contemplation, without habitual collection\nand re-collection of our own selves from time to time, no great purpose\nis carried out, and no great work can be done; and that it is the bustle\nand hurry of our modern life which causes shallow thought, unstable\npurpose, and wasted energy, in too many who would be better and wiser,\nstronger and happier, if they would devote more time to silence and\nmeditation; if they would commune with their own heart in their chamber,\nand be still.  Even in art and in mechanical science, those who have done\ngreat work upon the earth have been men given to solitary meditation.\nWhen Brindley, the engineer, it is said, had a difficult problem to\nsolve, he used to go to bed, and stay there till he had worked it out.\nTurner, the greatest nature-painter of this or any other age, spent hours\nupon hours in mere contemplation of nature, without using his pencil at\nall.  It is said of him that he was seen to spend a whole day, sitting\nupon a rock, and throwing pebbles into a lake; and when at evening his\nfellow painters showed their day\u2019s sketches, and rallied him upon having\ndone nothing, he answered them, \u201cI have done this at least: I have learnt\nhow a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it.\u201d  And if this silent\nlabour, this steadfast thought are required even for outward arts and\nsciences, how much more for the highest of all arts, the deepest of all\nsciences, that which involves the questions\u2014who are we? and where are we?\nwho is God? and what are we to God, and He to us?\u2014namely, the science of\nbeing good, which deals not with time merely, but with eternity.  No\nretirement, no loneliness, no period of earnest and solemn meditation,\ncan be misspent which helps us towards that goal.\n\nAnd therefore it was that Hilarion longed to be alone; alone with God;\nand with Nature, which spoke to him of God.  For these old hermits,\nthough they neither talked nor wrote concerning scenery, nor painted\npictures of it as we do now, had many of them a clear and intense\ninstinct of the beauty and the meaning of outward Nature; as Antony\nsurely had when he said that the world around was his book, wherein he\nread the mysteries of God.  Hilarion seems, from his story, to have had a\nspecial craving for the sea.  Perhaps his early sojourn on the low\nsandhills of the Philistine shore, as he watched the tideless\nMediterranean, rolling and breaking for ever upon the same beach, had\ntaught him to say with the old prophet as he thought of the wicked and\nstill half idolatrous cities of the Philistine shore, \u201cFear ye not? saith\nthe Lord; Will ye not tremble at my presence who have placed the sand for\nthe bound of the sea, for a perpetual decree, that it cannot pass it?\nAnd though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail;\nthough they roar, yet can they not pass over.  But this people has a\nrevolted and rebellious heart, they are revolted and gone.\u201d  Perhaps\nagain, looking down from the sunny Sicilian cliffs of Taormino, or\nthrough the pine-clad gulfs and gullies of the Cypriote hills upon the\nblue Mediterranean below,\n\n    \u201cAnd watching from his mountain wall\n    The wrinkled sea beneath him crawl,\u201d\n\nhe had enjoyed and profited by all those images which that sight has\ncalled up in so many minds before and since.  To him it may be, as to the\nPsalmist, the storm-swept sea pictured the instability of mortal things,\nwhile secure upon his cliff he said with the Psalmist, \u201cThe Lord hath set\nmy feet upon a rock, and ordered my goings;\u201d and again, \u201cThe wicked are\nlike a troubled sea, casting up mire and dirt.\u201d  Often, again, looking\nupon that far horizon, must his soul have been drawn, as many a soul has\nbeen drawn since, to it, and beyond it, as it were into a region of\nboundless freedom and perfect peace, while he said again with David, \u201cOh\nthat I had wings like a dove; then would I flee away and be at rest!\u201d and\nso have found, in the contemplation of the wide ocean, a substitute at\nleast for the contemplation of those Eastern deserts which seemed the\nproper home for the solitary and meditative philosopher.\n\nFor indeed in no northern country can such situations be found for the\nmonastic cell as can be found in those great deserts which stretch from\nSyria to Arabia, from Arabia to Egypt, from Egypt to Africa properly so\ncalled.  Here and there a northern hermit found, as Hilarion found, a\nfitting home by the seaside, on some lonely island or storm-beat rock,\nlike St. Cuthbert, off the coast of Northumberland; like St. Rule, on his\nrock at St. Andrew\u2019s; and St. Columba, with his ever-venerable company of\nmissionaries, on Iona.  But inland, the fens and the forests were foul,\nunwholesome, depressing, the haunts of fever, ague, delirium, as St.\nGuthlac found at Crowland, and St. Godric at Finkhale. {130}  The vast\npine-woods which clothe the Alpine slopes, the vast forests of beech and\noak which then spread over France and Germany, gave in time shelter to\nmany a holy hermit.  But their gloom, their unwholesomeness, and the\nseverity of the climate, produced in them, as in most northern ascetics,\na temper of mind more melancholy, and often more fierce; more given to\npassionate devotion, but more given also to dark superstition and cruel\nself-torture, than the genial climate of the desert produced in old monks\nof the East.  When we think of St. Antony upon his mountain, we must not\npicture to ourselves, unless we, too, have been in the East, such a\nmountain as we have ever seen.  We must not think of a brown northern\nmoorland, sad, savage, storm-swept, snow-buried, save in the brief and\nuncertain summer months.  We must not picture to ourselves an Alp, with\nthundering avalanches, roaring torrents, fierce alternations of heat and\ncold, uninhabitable by mortal man, save during that short period of the\nyear when the maidens in the sennhutt watch the cattle upon the upland\npastures.  We must picture to ourselves mountains blazing day after day,\nmonth after month, beneath the glorious sun and cloudless sky, in an air\nso invigorating that the Arabs can still support life there upon a few\ndates each day; and where, as has been said,\u2014\u201cMan needs there hardly to\neat, drink, or sleep, for the act of breathing will give life enough;\u201d an\natmosphere of such telescopic clearness as to explain many of the strange\nstories which have been lately told of Antony\u2019s seemingly preternatural\npowers of vision; a colouring, which, when painters dare to put it on\ncanvas, seems to our eyes, accustomed to the quiet greys and greens of\nEngland, exaggerated and impossible\u2014distant mountains, pink and lilac,\nquivering in pale blue haze\u2014vast sheets of yellow sand, across which the\nlonely rock or a troop of wild asses or gazelles throw intense blue-black\nshadows\u2014rocks and cliffs not shrouded, as here, in soil, much less in\ngrass and trees, or spotted with lichens and stained with veins; but\nkeeping each stone its natural colour, as it wastes\u2014if, indeed, it wastes\nat all\u2014under the action of the all but rainless air, which has left the\npaintings on the old Egyptian temples fresh and clear for thousands of\nyears; rocks, orange and purple, black, white, and yellow; and again and\nagain beyond them {131} glimpses, it may be, of the black Nile, and of\nthe long green garden of Egypt, and of the dark blue sea.  The eastward\nview from Antony\u2019s old home must be one of the most glorious in the\nworld, save for its want of verdure and of life.  For Antony, as he\nlooked across the blue waters of the Gulf of Akaba, across which, far\nabove, the Israelites had passed in old times, could see the sacred goal\nof their pilgrimage, the red granite peaks of Sinai, flaming against the\nblue sky with that intensity of hue which is scarcely exaggerated, it is\nsaid, by the bright scarlet colour in which Sinai is always painted in\nmedi\u00e6val illuminations.\n\nBut the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us, was not, of\ncourse, what produced the deepest effect upon the minds of those old\nhermits.  They enjoyed Nature, not so much for her beauty, as for her\nperfect peace.  Day by day the rocks remained the same.  Silently out of\nthe Eastern desert, day by day, the rising sun threw aloft those arrows\nof light, which the old Greeks had named \u201cthe rosy fingers of the dawn.\u201d\nSilently he passed in full blaze almost above their heads throughout the\nday; and silently he dipped behind the western desert in a glory of\ncrimson and orange, green and purple; and without an interval of\ntwilight, in a moment, all the land was dark, and the stars leapt out,\nnot twinkling as in our damper climate here, but hanging like balls of\nwhite fire in that purple southern night, through which one seems to look\nbeyond the stars into the infinite abyss, and towards the throne of God\nhimself.  Day after day, night after night, that gorgeous pageant passed\nover the poor hermit\u2019s head without a sound; and though sun and moon and\nplanet might change their places as the year rolled round, the earth\nbeneath his feet seemed not to change.  Every morning he saw the same\npeaks in the distance, the same rocks, the same sand-heaps around his\nfeet.  He never heard the tinkle of a running stream.  For weeks together\nhe did not even hear the rushing of the wind.  Now and then a storm might\nsweep up the pass, whirling the sand in eddies, and making the desert for\na while literally a \u201chowling wilderness;\u201d and when that was passed all\nwas as it had been before.  The very change of seasons must have been\nlittle marked to him, save by the motions, if he cared to watch them, of\nthe stars above; for vegetation there was none to mark the difference\nbetween summer and winter.  In spring of course the solitary date-palm\nhere and there threw out its spathe of young green leaves, to add to the\nnumber of those which, grey or brown, hung drooping down the stem,\nwithering but not decaying for many a year in that dry atmosphere; or\nperhaps the accacia bushes looked somewhat gayer for a few weeks, and the\nRetama broom, from which as well as from the palm leaves he plaited his\nbaskets, threw out its yearly crop of twigs; but any greenness there\nmight be in the vegetation of spring, turned grey in a few weeks beneath\nthat burning sun; and be rest of the year was one perpetual summer of\ndust and glare and rest.  Amid such scenes they had full time for\nthought.  Nature and man alike left it in peace; while the labour\nrequired for sustaining life (and the monk wished for nothing more than\nto sustain mere life) was very light.  Wherever water could be found, the\nhot sun and the fertile soil would repay by abundant crops, perhaps twice\nin the year, the toil of scratching the ground and putting in the seed.\nMoreover, the labour of the husbandman, so far from being adverse to the\ncontemplative life, is of all occupations, it may be, that which promotes\nmost quiet and wholesome meditation in the mind which cares to meditate.\nThe life of the desert, when once the passions of youth were conquered,\nseems to have been not only a happy, but a healthy one.  And when we\nremember that the monk, clothed from head to foot in woollen, and\nsheltered, too, by his sheepskin cape, escaped those violent changes of\ntemperature which produce in the East so many fatal diseases, and which\nwere so deadly to the linen-clothed inhabitants of the green lowlands of\nthe Nile, we need not be surprised when we read of the vast longevity of\nmany of the old abbots; and of their death, not by disease, but by\ngentle, and as it were wholesome natural decay.\n\nBut if their life was easy, it was surely not ill-spent.  If having few\nwants, and those soon supplied, they found too much time for the luxury\nof quiet thought, those need not blame them, who having many wants, and\nthose also easily supplied, are wont to spend their superfluous leisure\nin any luxury save that of thought, above all save that of thought\nconcerning God.  For it was upon God that these men, whatever their\ndefects or ignorances may have been, had set their minds.  That man was\nsent into the world to know and to love, to obey and thereby to glorify,\nthe Maker of his being, was the cardinal point of their creed, as it has\nbeen of every creed which ever exercised any beneficial influence on the\nminds of men.  Dean Milman in his \u201cHistory of Christianity,\u201d vol. iii.\npage 294, has, while justly severe upon the failings and mistakes of the\nEastern monks, pointed out with equal justice that the great desire of\nknowing God was the prime motive in the mind of all their best men:\u2014\n\n\u201cIn some regions of the East, the sultry and oppressive heat, the general\nrelaxation of the physical system, dispose constitutions of a certain\ntemperament to a dreamy inertness.  The indolence and prostration of the\nbody produce a kind of activity in the mind, if that may properly be\ncalled activity which is merely giving loose to the imagination and the\nemotions as they follow out the wild train of incoherent thought, or are\nagitated by impulses of spontaneous and ungoverned feeling.  Ascetic\nChristianity ministered new aliment to this common propensity.  It gave\nan object, both vague and determinate enough to stimulate, yet never to\nsatisfy or exhaust.  The regularity of stated hours of prayer, and of a\nkind of idle industry, weaving mats or plaiting baskets, alternated with\nperiods of morbid reflection on the moral state of the soul, and of\nmystic communion with the Deity.  It cannot indeed be wondered that this\nnew revelation, as it were, of the Deity, this profound and rational\ncertainty of his existence, this infelt consciousness of his perpetual\npresence, these as yet unknown impressions of his infinity, his power,\nand his love, should give a higher character to this eremitical\nenthusiasm, and attract men of loftier and more vigorous minds within its\nsphere.  It was not merely the pusillanimous dread of encountering the\ntrials of life which urged the humbler spirits to seek a safe retirement;\nor the natural love of peace, and the weariness and satiety of life,\nwhich commended this seclusion to those who were too gentle to mingle in,\nor who were exhausted with, the unprofitable turmoil of the world; nor\nwas it always the anxiety to mortify the rebellious and refractory body\nwith more advantage.  The one absorbing idea of the Majesty of the\nGodhead almost seemed to swallow up all other considerations.  The\ntranscendent nature of the Triune Deity, the relation of the different\npersons of the Godhead to each other, seemed the only worthy object of\nmen\u2019s contemplative faculties.\u201d\n\nAnd surely the contemplation of the Godhead is no unworthy occupation for\nthe immortal soul of any human being.  But it would be unjust to these\nhermits did we fancy that their religion consisted merely even in this;\nmuch less that it consisted merely in dreams and visions, or in mere\nstated hours of prayer.  That all did not fulfil the ideal of their\nprofession is to be expected, and is frankly confessed by the writers of\nthe Lives of the Fathers; that there were serious faults, even great\ncrimes, among them is not denied.  Those who wrote concerning them were\nso sure that they were on the whole good men, that they were not at all\nafraid of saying that some of them were bad,\u2014not afraid, even, of\nrecording, though only in dark hints, the reason why the Arab tribes\naround once rose and laid waste six churches with their monasteries in\nthe neighbourhood of Scetis.  St. Jerome in like manner does not hesitate\nto pour out bitter complaints against many of the monks in the\nneighbourhood of Bethlehem.  It is notorious, too, that many became monks\nmerely to escape slavery, hunger, or conscription into the army: Unruly\nand fanatical spirits, too, grew fond of wandering.  Bands of monks on\nthe great roads and public places of the empire, Massalians or Gyrovagi,\nas they were called, wandered from province to province, and cell to\ncell, living on the alms which they extorted from the pious, and making\nup too often for protracted fasts by outbursts of gluttony and\ndrunkenness.  And doubtless the average monk, even when well-conducted\nhimself and in a well-conducted monastery, was, like average men of every\ncreed, rank, or occupation, a very common-place person, acting from very\nmixed and often very questionable motives; and valuing his shaven crown\nand his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of prayer and his implicit\nobedience to his abbot, more highly than he valued the fear and the love\nof God.\n\nIt is so in every creed.  With some, even now, the strict observance of\nthe Sabbath; with others, outward reverence at the Holy Communion; with\nothers, the frequent hearing of sermons which suit heir own views; with\nothers, continual reading of pious books (on the lessons of which they do\nnot act), covers, instead of charity, a multitude of sins.  But the\nsaint, abbot, or father among these hermits was essentially the man who\nwas not a common-place person; who was more than an ascetic, and more\nthan a formalist; who could pierce beyond the letter to the spirit, and\nsee, beyond all forms of doctrine or modes of life, that virtue was the\none thing needful.\n\nThe Historia Lausiaca and the Pratum Spirituale have many a story and\nmany a saying as weighty, beautiful, and instructive now as they were\nfifteen hundred years ago; stories which show that graces and virtues\nsuch as the world had never seen before, save in the persecuted and\nhalf-unknown Christians of the first three centuries, were cultivated to\nnoble fruitfulness by the monks of the East.  For their humility,\nobedience, and reverence for their superiors it is not wise to praise\nthem just now; for those are qualities which are not at present\nconsidered virtues, but rather (save by the soldier) somewhat abject\nvices; and indeed they often carried them, as they did their abstinence,\nto an extravagant pitch.  But it must be remembered, in fairness, that if\nthey obeyed their supposed superiors, they had first chosen their\nsuperiors themselves; that as the becoming a monk at all was an assertion\nof self-will and independence, whether for good or evil, so their\nreverence for their abbots was a voluntary loyalty to one who they\nfancied had a right to rule them, because he was wiser and better than\nthey; a feeling which some have found not degrading, but ennobling; and\nthe parent, not of servility, but of true freedom.  And as for the\nobsolete virtue of humility, that still remains true which a voice said\nto Antony, when he saw the snares which were spread over the whole earth,\nand asked, sighing, \u201cWho can pass safely over these?\u201d and the voice\nanswered, \u201cHumility alone.\u201d\n\nFor the rest, if the Sermon on the Mount mean anything, as a practical\nrule of life for Christian men, then these monks were surely justified in\ntrying to obey it, for to obey it they surely tried.\n\nThe Words of the Elders, to which I have already alluded, and the\nLausiaca of Palladius likewise, are full of precious scraps of moral\nwisdom, sayings, and anecdotes, full of nobleness, purity, pathos,\ninsight into character, and often instinct with a quiet humour, which\nseems to have been, in the Old world, peculiar to the Egyptians, as it\nis, in the New, almost peculiar to the old-fashioned God-fearing\nScotsman.\n\nTake these examples, chosen almost at random.\n\nSerapion the Sindonite was so called because he wore nothing but a\nsindon, or linen shirt.  Though he could not read, he could say all the\nScriptures by heart.  He could not (says Palladius) sit quiet in his\ncell, but wandered over the world in utter poverty, so that he \u201cattained\nto perfect impassibility, for with that nature he was born; for there are\ndifferences of natures, not of substances.\u201d\n\nSo says Palladius, and goes on to tell how Serapion sold himself to\ncertain play-actors for twenty gold pieces, and laboured for them as a\nslave till he had won them to Christ, and made them renounce the theatre;\nafter which he made his converts give the money to the poor, and went his\nway.\n\nOn one of his journeys he came to Athens, and, having neither money nor\ngoods, starved there for three days.  But on the fourth he went up,\nseemingly to the Areopagus, and cried, \u201cMen of Athens, help!\u201d  And when\nthe crowd questioned him, he told them that he had, since he left Egypt,\nfallen into the hands of three usurers, two of whom he had satisfied, but\nthe third would not leave him.\n\nOn being promised assistance, he told them that his three usurers were\navarice, sensuality, and hunger.  Of the two first he was rid, having\nneither money nor passions: but, as he had eaten nothing for three days,\nthe third was beginning to be troublesome, and demanded its usual debt,\nwithout paying which he could not well live; whereon certain\nphilosophers, seemly amused by his apologue, gave him a gold coin.  He\nwent to a baker\u2019s shop, laid down the coin, took up a loaf, and went out\nof Athens for ever.  Then the philosophers knew that he was endowed with\ntrue virtue; and when they had paid the baker the price of the loaf, got\nback their gold.\n\nWhen he went into Laced\u00e6mon, he heard that a great man there was a\nManich\u00e6an, with all his family, though otherwise a good man.  To him\nSerapion sold himself as a slave, and within two years converted him and\nhis wife, who thenceforth treated him not as a slave, but as their own\nbrother.\n\nAfter awhile, this \u201cSpiritual adamant,\u201d as Palladius calls him, bought\nhis freedom of them, and sailed for Rome.  At sundown first the sailors,\nand then the passengers, brought out each man his provisions, and ate.\nSerapion sat still.  The crew fancied that he was sea-sick; but when he\nhad passed a second, third, and fourth day fasting, they asked, \u201cMan, why\ndo you not eat?\u201d  \u201cBecause I have nothing to eat.\u201d  They thought that\nsome one had stolen his baggage: but when they found that the man had\nabsolutely nothing, they began to ask him not only how he would keep\nalive, but how he would pay his fare.  He only answered, \u201cThat he had\nnothing; that they might cast him out of the ship where they had found\nhim.\u201d\n\nBut they answered, \u201cNot for a hundred gold pieces, so favourable was the\nwind,\u201d and fed him all the way to Rome, where we lose sight of him and\nhis humour.\n\nTo go on with almost chance quotations:\u2014\n\nSome monks were eating at a festival, and one said to the serving man, \u201cI\neat nothing cooked; tell them to bring me salt.\u201d  The serving man began\nto talk loudly: \u201cThat brother eats no cooked meat; bring him a little\nsalt.\u201d  Quoth Abbot Theodore: \u201cIt were more better for thee, brother, to\neat meat in thy cell than to hear thyself talked about in the presence of\nthy brethren.\u201d\n\nAgain: a brother came to Abbot Silvanus, in Mount Sinai, and found the\nbrethren working, and said, \u201cWhy labour you for the meat which perisheth?\nMary chose the good part.\u201d  The abbot said, \u201cGive him a book to read, and\nput him in an empty cell.\u201d  About the ninth hour the brother looked out,\nto see if he would be called to eat, and at last came to the abbot, and\nasked, \u201cDo not the brethren eat to-day, abbot?\u201d  \u201cYes.\u201d  \u201cThen why was\nnot I called?\u201d  Then quoth Abbot Silvanus: \u201cThou art a spiritual man: and\nneedest not their food.  We are carnal, and must eat, because we work:\nbut thou hast chosen the better part.\u201d  Whereat the monk was ashamed.\n\nAs was also John the dwarf, who wanted to be \u201cwithout care like the\nangels, doing nothing but praise God.\u201d  So he threw away his cloak, left\nhis brother the abbot, and went into the desert.  But after seven days he\ncame back, and knocked at the door.  \u201cWho is there?\u201d asked his brother.\n\u201cJohn.\u201d  \u201cNay, John is turned into an angel, and is no more among men.\u201d\nSo he left him outside all night; and in the morning gave him to\nunderstand that if he was a man he must work, but that if he was an\nangel, he had no need to live in a cell.\n\nConsider again the saying of the great Antony, when some brethren were\npraising another in his presence.  But Antony tried him, and found that\nhe could not bear an injury.  Then said the old man, \u201cBrother, thou art\nlike a house with an ornamented porch, while the thieves break into it by\nthe back door.\u201d\n\nOr this, of Abbot Isidore, when the devil tempted him to despair, and\ntold him that he would be lost after all: \u201cIf I do go into torment, I\nshall still find you below me there.\u201d\n\nOr this, of Zeno the Syrian, when some Egyptian monks came to him and\nbegan accusing themselves: \u201cThe Egyptians hide the virtues which they\nhave, and confess vices which they have not.  The Syrians and Greeks\nboast of virtues which they have not, and hide vices which they have.\u201d\n\nOr this: One old man said to another, \u201cI am dead to this world.\u201d  \u201cDo not\ntrust yourself,\u201d quoth the other, \u201ctill you are out of this world.  If\nyou are dead, the devil is not.\u201d\n\nTwo old men lived in the same cell, and had never disagreed.  Said one to\nthe other, \u201cLet us have just one quarrel, like other men.\u201d  Quoth the\nother: \u201cI do not know what a quarrel is like.\u201d  Quoth the first: \u201cHere\u2014I\nwill put a brick between us, and say that it is mine: and you shall say\nit is not mine; and over that let us have a contention and a squabble.\u201d\nBut when they put the brick between them, and one said, \u201cIt is mine,\u201d the\nother said, \u201cI hope it is mine.\u201d  And when the first said, \u201cIt is mine,\nit is not yours,\u201d he answered, \u201cIf it is yours, take it.\u201d  So they could\nnot find out how to have a quarrel.\n\nAnger, malice, revenge, were accursed things in the eyes of these men.\nThere was enough of them, and too much, among their monks; but far less,\ndoubt not, than in the world outside.  For within the monastery it was\npreached against, repressed, punished; and when repented of, forgiven,\nwith loving warnings and wise rules against future transgression.\n\nAbbot Agathon used to say, \u201cI never went to sleep with a quarrel against\nany man; nor did I, as far as lay in me, let one who had a quarrel\nagainst me sleep till he had made peace.\u201d\n\nAbbot Isaac was asked why the devils feared him so much.  \u201cSince I was\nmade a monk,\u201d he said, \u201cI settled with myself that no angry word should\ncome out of my mouth.\u201d\n\nAn old man said, \u201cAnger arises from these four things: from the lust of\navarice, in giving and receiving; from loving one\u2019s own opinion; from\nwishing to be honoured; and from fancying oneself a teacher and hoping to\nbe wiser than everybody.  And anger obscures human reason by these four\nways: if a man hate his neighbour; or if he envy him; or if he look on\nhim as nought; or if he speak evil of him.\u201d\n\nA brother being injured by another, came to Abbot Sidonius, told his\nstory, and said, \u201cI wish to avenge myself, father.\u201d  The abbot begged him\nto leave vengeance to God: but when he refused, said, \u201cThen let us pray.\u201d\nWhereon the old man rose, and said, \u201cGod, thou art not necessary to us\nany longer, that thou shouldest be careful of us: for we, as this brother\nsays, both will and can avenge ourselves.\u201d  At which that brother fell at\nhis feet, and begged pardon, promising never to strive with his enemy.\n\nAbbot P\u0153men said often, \u201cLet malice never overcome thee.  If any man do\nthee harm, repay him with good, that thou mayest conquer evil with good.\u201d\n\nIn a congregation at Scetis, when many men\u2019s lives and conversation had\nbeen talked over, Abbot Pior held his tongue.  After it was over, he went\nout, and filled a sack with sand, and put it on his back.  Then he took a\nlittle bag, filled it likewise with sand, and carried it before him.  And\nwhen the brethren asked him what he meant, he said, \u201cThe sack behind is\nmy own sins, which are very many: yet I have cast them behind my back,\nand will not see them, nor weep over them.  But I have put these few sins\nof my brother\u2019s before my eyes, and am tormenting myself over them, and\ncondemning my brother.\u201d\n\nA brother having committed a fault, went to Antony, and his brethren\nfollowed, upbraiding him, and wanting to bring him back; while he denied\nhaving done the wrong.  Abbot Paphnutius was there, and spoke a parable\nto them:\u2014\n\n\u201cI saw on the river bank a man sunk in the mud up to his knees.  And men\ncame to pull him out, and thrust him in up to the neck.\u201d\n\nThen said Antony of Paphnutius, \u201cBehold a man who can indeed save souls.\u201d\n\nAbbot Macarius was going up to the mountain of Nitria, and sent his\ndisciple on before.  The disciple met an idol-priest hurrying on, and\ncarrying a great beam: to whom he cried, \u201cWhere art thou running, devil?\u201d\nAt which he was wroth, and beat him so that he left him half dead, and\nthen ran on, and met Macarius, who said, \u201cSalvation to thee, labourer,\nsalvation!\u201d  He answered, wondering, \u201cWhat good hast thou seen in me that\nthou salutest me?\u201d  \u201cBecause I saw thee working and running, though\nignorantly.\u201d  To whom the priest said, \u201cTouched by thy salutation, I knew\nthee to be a great servant of God; for another\u2014I know not who\u2014miserable\nmonk met me and insulted me, and I gave him blows for his words.\u201d  Then\nlaying hold of Macarius\u2019s feet he said, \u201cUnless thou make me a monk I\nwill not leave hold of thee.\u201d\n\nAfter all, of the best of these men are told (with much honesty) many\nsayings which show that they felt in their minds and hearts that the\nspirit was above the letter: sayings which show that they had at least at\ntimes glimpses of a simpler and more possible virtue; foretastes of a\nperfection more human, and it may be more divine.\n\n\u201cBetter,\u201d said Abbot Hyperichius, \u201cto eat flesh and drink wine, than to\neat our brethren\u2019s flesh with bitter words.\u201d\n\nA brother asked an elder, \u201cGive me, father one thing which I may keep,\nand be saved thereby.\u201d  The elder answered, \u201cIf thou canst be injured and\ninsulted, and hear and be silent, that is a great thing, and above all\nthe other commandments.\u201d\n\nOne of the elders used to say, \u201cWhatever a man shrinks from let him not\ndo to another.  Dost thou shrink if any man detracts from thee?  Speak\nnot ill of another.  Dost thou shrink if any man slanders thee, or if any\nman takes aught from thee?  Do not that or the like to another man.  For\nhe that shall have kept this saying, will find it suffice for his\nsalvation.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe nearer,\u201d said Abbot Muthues, \u201ca man approaches God, the more he will\nsee himself to be a sinner.\u201d\n\nAbbot Sisois, when he lay dying, begged to live a little longer, that he\nmight repent; and when they wondered, he told them that he had not yet\neven begun repentance.  Whereby they saw that he was perfect in the fear\nof the Lord.\n\nBut the most startling confession of all must have been that wrung from\nthe famous Macarius the elder.  He had been asked once by a brother, to\ntell him a rule by which he might be saved; and his answer had been\nthis:\u2014to fly from men, to sit in his cell, and to lament for his sins\ncontinually; and, what was above all virtues, to keep his tongue in order\nas well as his appetite.\n\nBut (whether before or after that answer is not said) he gained a deeper\ninsight into true virtue, on the day when (like Antony when he was\nreproved by the example of the tanner in Alexandria) he heard a voice\ntelling him that he was inferior to two women who dwelt in the nearest\ntown.  Catching up his staff, like Antony, he went off to see the wonder.\nThe women, when questioned by him as to their works, were astonished.\nThey had been simply good wives for years past, married to two brothers,\nand living in the same house.  But when pressed by him, they confessed\nthat they had never said a foul word to each other, and never quarrelled.\nAt one time they had agreed together to retire into a nunnery, but could\nnot, for all their prayers, obtain the consent of their husbands.  On\nwhich they had both made an oath, that they would never, to their deaths,\nspeak one worldly word.\n\nWhich when the blessed Macarius had heard, he said, \u201cIn truth there is\nneither virgin, nor married woman, nor monk, nor secular; but God only\nrequires the intention, and ministers the spirit of life to all.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nARSENIUS\n\n\nI SHALL give one more figure, and that a truly tragical one, from these\n\u201cLives of the Egyptian Fathers,\u201d namely, that of the once great and\nfamous Arsenius, the Father (as he was at one time called) of the\nEmperors.  Theodosius, the great statesman and warrior, who for some\ntwenty years kept up by his single hand the falling empire of Rome, heard\nhow Arsenius was at once the most pious and the most learned of his\nsubjects; and wishing\u2014half barbarian as he was himself\u2014that his sons\nshould be brought up, not only as scholars, but as Christians, he sent\nfor Arsenius to his court, and made him tutor to his two young sons\nHonorius and Arcadius.  But the two lads had neither their father\u2019s\nstrength nor their father\u2019s nobleness.  Weak and profligate, they fretted\nArsenius\u2019s soul day by day; and, at last, so goes the story, provoked him\nso far that, according to the fashion of a Roman pedagogue, he took the\nferula and administered to one of the princes a caning, which he no doubt\ndeserved.  The young prince, in revenge, plotted against his life.  Among\nthe parasites of the Palace it was not difficult to find those who would\nuse steel and poison readily enough in the service of an heir-apparent,\nand Arsenius fled for his life: and fled, as men were wont in those days,\nto Egypt and the Thebaid.  Forty years old he was when he left the court,\nand forty years more he spent among the cells at Scetis, weeping day and\nnight.  He migrated afterwards to a place called Troe, and there died at\nthe age of ninety-five, having wept himself, say his admirers, almost\nblind.  He avoided, as far as possible, beholding the face of man; upon\nthe face of woman he would never look.  A noble lady, whom he had known\nprobably in the world, came all the way from Rome to see him; but he\nrefused himself to her sternly, almost roughly.  He had known too much of\nthe fine ladies of the Roman court; all he cared for was peace.  There is\na story of him that, changing once his dwelling-place, probably from\nScetis to Troe, he asked, somewhat peevishly, of the monks around him,\n\u201cWhat that noise was?\u201d  They told him it was only the wind among the\nreeds.  \u201cAlas!\u201d he said, \u201cI have fled everywhere in search of silence,\nand yet here the very reeds speak.\u201d  The simple and comparatively\nunlearned monks around him looked with a profound respect on the\nphilosopher, courtier, scholar, who had cast away the real pomps and\nvanities of this life, such as they had never known.  There is a story\ntold, plainly concerning Arsenius, though his name is not actually\nmentioned in it, how a certain old monk saw him lying upon a softer mat\nthan his fellows, and indulged with a few more comforts; and complained\nindignantly of his luxury, and the abbot\u2019s favouritism.  Then asked the\nabbot, \u201cWhat didst thou eat before thou becamest a monk?\u201d He confessed he\nhad been glad enough to fill his stomach with a few beans.  \u201cHow wert\nthou dressed?\u201d  He was glad enough, again he confessed, to have any\nclothes at all on his back.  \u201cWhere didst thou sleep?\u201d  \u201cOften enough on\nthe bare ground in the open air,\u201d was the answer.  \u201cThen,\u201d said the\nabbot, \u201cthou art, by thy own confession, better off as a monk than thou\nwast as a poor labouring man: and yet thou grudgest a little comfort to\none who has given up more luxury than thou hast ever beheld.  This man\nslept beneath silken canopies; he was carried in gilded litters, by\ntrains of slaves; he was clothed in purple and fine linen; he fed upon\nall the delicacies of the great city: and he has given up all for Christ.\nAnd what hast thou given up, that thou shouldst grudge him a softer mat,\nor a little more food each day?\u201d  And so the monk was abashed, and held\nhis peace.\n\nAs for Arsenius\u2019s tears, it is easy to call his grief exaggerated or\nsuperstitious: but those who look on them with human eyes will pardon\nthem, and watch with sacred pity the grief of a good man, who felt that\nhis life had been an utter failure.  He saw his two pupils, between whom,\nat their father\u2019s death, the Roman Empire was divided into Eastern and\nWestern, grow more and more incapable of governing.  He saw a young\nbarbarian, whom he must have often met at the court in Byzantium, as\nMaster of the Horse, come down from his native forests, and sack the\nEternal City of Rome.  He saw evil and woe unspeakable fall on that world\nwhich he had left behind him, till the earth was filled with blood, and\nAntichrist seemed ready to appear, and the day of judgment to be at hand.\nAnd he had been called to do what he could to stave off this ruin, to\nmake those young princes decree justice and rule in judgment by the fear\nof God.  But he had failed; and there was nothing left to him save\nself-accusation and regret, and dread lest some, at least, of the blood\nwhich had been shed might be required at his hands.  Therefore, sitting\nupon his palm-mat there in Troe, he wept his life away; happier,\nnevertheless, and more honourable in the sight of God and man than if,\nlike a Mazarin or a Talleyrand, and many another crafty politician, both\nin Church and State, he had hardened his heart against his own mistakes,\nand, by crafty intrigue and adroit changing of sides at the right moment,\nhad contrived to secure for himself, out of the general ruin, honour and\npower and wealth, and delicate food, and a luxurious home, and so been\none of those of whom the Psalmist says, with awful irony, \u201cSo long as\nthou doest well unto thyself, men will speak good of thee.\u201d\n\nOne good deed at least Arsenius had seen done\u2014a deed which has lasted to\nall time, and done, too, to the eternal honour of his order, by a\nmonk\u2014namely, the abolition of gladiator shows.  For centuries these\nwholesale murders had lasted through the Roman Republic and through the\nRoman Empire.  Human beings in the prime of youth and health, captives or\nslaves, condemned malefactors, and even free-born men, who hired\nthemselves out to death, had been trained to destroy each other in the\namphitheatre for the amusement, not merely of the Roman mob, but of the\nRoman ladies.  Thousands sometimes, in a single day, had been\n\n    \u201cButchered to make a Roman holiday.\u201d\n\nThe training of gladiators had become a science.  By their weapons and\ntheir armour, and their modes of fighting, they had been distinguished\ninto regular classes, of which the antiquaries count up full eighteen:\nAndabat\u00e6, who wore helmets without any opening for the eyes, so that they\nwere obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited the mirth of the\nspectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armour;\nMirmillones, who had the image of a fish upon their helmets, and fought\nin armour with a short sword, matched usually against the Retiarii, who\nfought without armour, and whose weapons were a casting-net and a\ntrident.  These, and other species of fighters, were drilled and fed in\n\u201cfamilies\u201d by Lanist\u00e6; or regular trainers, who let them out to persons\nwishing to exhibit a show.  Women, even high-born ladies, had been seized\nin former times with the madness of fighting, and, as shameless as cruel,\nhad gone down into the arena to delight with their own wounds and their\nown gore the eyes of the Roman people.\n\nAnd these things were done, and done too often, under the auspices of the\ngods, and at their most sacred festivals.  So deliberate and organized a\nsystem of wholesale butchery has never perhaps existed on this earth\nbefore or since, not even in the worship of those Mexican gods whose\nidols Cortez and his soldiers found fed with human hearts, and the walls\nof their temples crusted with human gore.  Gradually the spirit of the\nGospel had been triumphing over this abomination.  Ever since the time of\nTertullian, in the second century, Christian preachers and writers had\nlifted up their voice in the name of humanity.  Towards the end of the\nthird century, the Emperors themselves had so far yielded to the voice of\nreason, as to forbid by edicts the gladiatorial fights.  But the public\nopinion of the mob in most of the great cities had been too strong both\nfor saints and for emperors.  St. Augustine himself tells us of the\nhorrible joy which he, in his youth, had seen come over the vast ring of\nflushed faces at these horrid sights; and in Arsenius\u2019s own time, his\nmiserable pupil, the weak Honorius, bethought himself of celebrating once\nmore the heathen festival of the Secular Games, and formally to allow\ntherein an exhibition of gladiators.  But in the midst of that show\nsprang down into the arena of the Colosseum of Rome an unknown monk, some\nsaid from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and with his own hands parted the\ncombatants in the name of Christ and God.  The mob, baulked for a moment\nof their pleasure, sprang on him, and stoned him to death.  But the crime\nwas followed by a sudden revulsion of feeling.  By an edict of the\nEmperor the gladiatorial sports were forbidden for ever; and the\nColosseum, thenceforth useless, crumbled slowly away into that vast ruin\nwhich remains unto this day, purified, as men well said, from the blood\nof tens of thousands, by the blood of one true and noble martyr.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HERMITS OF ASIA\n\n\nTHE impulse which, given by Antony, had been propagated in Asia by his\ngreat pupil, Hilarion, spread rapidly far and wide.  Hermits took\npossession of the highest peaks of Sinai; and driven from thence, so\ntradition tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which still haunt its\ncliffs, settled at that sheltered spot where now stands the convent of\nSt. Catharine.  Massacred again and again by the wild Arab tribes, their\nplaces were filled up by fresh hermits, and their spiritual descendants\nhold the convent to this day.\n\nThrough the rich and luxuriant region of Syria, and especially round the\nrichest and most luxurious of its cities, Antioch, hermits settled, and\nbore, by the severity of their lives, a noble witness against the\nprofligacy of its inhabitants, who had half renounced the paganism of\ntheir forefathers without renouncing in the least, it seems, those sins\nwhich drew down of old the vengeance of a righteous God upon their\nforefathers, whether in Canaan or in Syria itself.\n\nAt Antioch, about the year 347, was born the famous Chrysostom, John of\nthe Golden Mouth; and near Antioch he became a hermit, and dwelt, so\nlegends say, several years alone in the wilderness: till, nerved by that\nhard training, he went forth again into the world to become, whether at\nAntioch or at Constantinople, the bravest as well as the most eloquent\npreacher of righteousness and rebuker of sin which the world had seen\nsince the times of St. Paul.  The labours of Chrysostom belong not so\nmuch to this book as to a general ecclesiastical history: but it must not\nbe forgotten that he, like all the great men of that age, had been a\nmonk, and kept up his monastic severity, even in the midst of the world,\nuntil his dying day.\n\nAt Nisibis, again, upon the very frontier of Persia, appeared another\nvery remarkable personage, known as the Great Jacob or Great St. James.\nTaking (says his admiring biographer, Theodoret of Cyra) to the peaks of\nthe loftiest mountains, he passed his life on them, in spring and summer\nhaunting the woods, with the sky for a roof, but sheltering himself in\nwinter in a cave.  His food was wild fruits and mountain herbs.  He never\nused a fire, and, clothed in a goats\u2019 hair garment, was perhaps the first\nof those Boscoi, or \u201cbrowsing hermits,\u201d who lived literally like the wild\nanimals in the flesh, while they tried to live like angels in the spirit.\n\nSome of the stories told of Jacob savour of that vindictiveness which\nGiraldus Cambrensis, in after years, attributed to the saints in Ireland.\nHe was walking one day over the Persian frontier, \u201cto visit the plants of\ntrue religion\u201d and \u201cbestow on them due care,\u201d when he passed at a\nfountain a troop of damsels washing clothes and treading them with their\nfeet.  They seem, according to the story, to have stared at the wild man,\ninstead of veiling their faces or letting down their garments.  No act or\nword of rudeness is reported of them: but Jacob\u2019s modesty or pride was so\nmuch scandalized that he cursed both the fountain and the girls.  The\nfountain of course dried up forthwith, and the damsels\u2019 hair turned grey.\nThey ran weeping into the town.  The townsfolk came out, and compelled\nJacob, by their prayers, to restore the water to their fountain; but the\ngrey hair he refused to restore to its original hue unless the damsels\nwould come and beg pardon publicly themselves.  The poor girls were\nashamed to come, and their hair remained grey ever after.\n\nA story like this may raise a smile in some of my readers, in others\nsomething like indignation or contempt.  But as long as such legends\nremain in these hermit lives, told with as much gravity as any other\nportion of the biography, and eloquently lauded, as this deed is, by\nBishop Theodoret, as proofs of the holiness and humanity of the saint, an\nhonest author is bound to notice some of them at least, and not to give\nan alluring and really dishonest account of these men and their times, by\ndetailing every anecdote which can elevate them in the mind of the\nreader, while he carefully omits all that may justly disgust him.\n\nYet, after all, we are not bound to believe this legend, any more than we\nare bound to believe that when Jacob saw a Persian judge give an unjust\nsentence, he forthwith cursed, not him, but a rock close by, which\ninstantly crumbled into innumerable fragments, so terrifying that judge\nthat he at once revoked his sentence, and gave a just decision.\n\nNeither, again, need we believe that it was by sending, as men said in\nhis own days, swarms of mosquitos against the Persian invaders, that he\nput to flight their elephants and horses: and yet it may be true that, in\nthe famous siege of Nisibis, Jacob played the patriot and the valiant\nman.  For when Sapor, the Persian king, came against Nisibis with all his\nforces, with troops of elephants, and huge machines of war, and towers\nfull of archers wheeled up to the walls, and at last, damming the river\nitself, turned its current against the fortifications of unburnt brick,\nuntil a vast breach was opened in the walls, then Jacob, standing in the\nbreach, encouraged by his prayers his fellow-townsmen to stop it with\nstone, brick, timber, and whatsoever came to hand; and Sapor, the Persian\nSultan, saw \u201cthat divine man,\u201d and his goats\u2019-hair tunic and cloak seemed\ntransformed into a purple robe and royal diadem.  And, whether he was\nseized with superstitious fear, or whether the hot sun or the marshy\nground had infected his troops with disease, or whether the mosquito\nswarms actually became intolerable, the great King of Persia turned and\nwent away.\n\nSo Nisibis was saved for a while; to be shamefully surrendered to the\nPersians a few years afterwards by the weak young Emperor Jovian.  Old\nAmmianus Marcellinus, brave soldier as he was, saw with disgust the whole\nbody of citizens ordered to quit the city within three days, and \u201cmen\nappointed to compel obedience to the order, with threats of death to\nevery one who delayed his departure; and the whole city was a scene of\nmourning and lamentation, and in every quarter nothing was heard but one\nuniversal wail, matrons tearing their hair, and about to be driven from\nthe homes in which they had been born and brought up; the mother who had\nlost her children, or the wife who had lost her husband, about to be torn\nfrom the place rendered sacred by their shades, clinging to their\ndoorposts, embracing their thresholds, and pouring forth floods of tears.\nEvery road was crowded, each person struggling away as he could.  Many,\ntoo, loaded themselves with as much of their property as they thought\nthey could carry, while leaving behind them abundant and costly\nfurniture, which they could not remove for want of beasts of burden.\u201d\n{159}\n\nOne treasure, however, they did remove, of which the old soldier Ammianus\nsays nothing, and which, had he seen it pass him on the road, he would\nhave treated with supreme contempt.  And that, says Theodoret, was the\nholy body of \u201ctheir prince and defender,\u201d St. James the mountain hermit,\nround which the emigrants chanted, says Theodoret, hymns of regret and\npraise, \u201cfor, had he been alive, that city would have never passed into\nbarbarian hands.\u201d\n\nThere stood with Jacob in the breach, during that siege of Nisibis, a man\nof gentler temperament, a disciple of his, who had received baptism at\nhis hands, and who was, like himself, a hermit\u2014Ephraim, or Ephrem, of\nEdessa, as he is commonly called, for, though born at Nisibis, his usual\nhome was at Edessa, the metropolis of a Syrian-speaking race.  Into the\nSyrian tongue Ephrem translated the doctrines of the Christian faith and\nthe Gospel history, and spread abroad, among the heathen round, a number\nof delicate and graceful hymns, which remain to this day, and of which\nsome have lately been translated into English. {160}  Soft, sad, and\ndreamy as they were, they had strength and beauty enough in them to\nsupersede the Gnostic hymns of Bardesanes and his son Harmonius, which\nhad been long popular among the Syrians; and for centuries afterwards,\ntill Christianity was swept away by the followers of Mahomet, the Syrian\nhusbandman beguiled his toil with the pious and plaintive melodies of St.\nEphrem.\n\nBut Ephrem was not only a hermit and a poet: he was a preacher and a\nmissionary.  If he wept, as it was said, day and night for his own sins\nand the sins of mankind, he did his best at least to cure those sins.  He\nwas a demagogue, or leader of the people, for good and not for evil, to\nwhom the simple Syrians looked up for many a year as their spiritual\nfather.  He died in peace, as he said himself, like the labourer who has\nfinished his day\u2019s work, like the wandering merchant who returns to his\nfatherland, leaving nothing behind him save prayers and counsels, for\n\u201cEphrem,\u201d he added, \u201chad neither wallet nor pilgrim\u2019s staff.\u201d\n\n\u201cHis last utterance\u201d (I owe this fact to M. de Montalembert\u2019s book,\n\u201cMoines d\u2019Occident\u201d) \u201cwas a protest on behalf of the dignity of man\nredeemed by the Son of God.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe young and pious daughter of the Governor of Edessa came weeping to\nreceive his latest breath.  He made her swear never again to be carried\nin a litter by slaves, \u2018The neck of man,\u2019 he said, \u2018should bear no yoke\nsave that of Christ.\u2019\u201d  This anecdote is one among many which go to prove\nthat from the time that St. Paul had declared the great truth that in\nChrist Jesus was neither bond nor free, and had proclaimed the spiritual\nbrotherhood of all men in Christ, slavery, as an institution, was doomed\nto slow but certain death.  But that death was accelerated by the\nmonastic movement, wherever it took root.  A class of men who came not to\nbe ministered unto, but to minister to others; who prided themselves upon\nneeding fewer luxuries than the meanest slaves; who took rank among each\nother and among men not on the ground of race, nor of official position,\nnor of wealth, nor even of intellect, but simply on the ground of virtue,\nwas a perpetual protest against slavery and tyranny of every kind; a\nperpetual witness to the world that, whether all men were equal or not in\nthe sight of God, the only rank among them of which God would take note,\nwould be their rank in goodness.\n\n\n\n\nBASIL\n\n\nON the south shore of the Black Sea, eastward of Sinope, there dwelt in\nthose days, at the mouth of the River Iris, a hermit as gentle and as\npure as Ephrem of Edessa.  Beside a roaring waterfall, amid deep glens\nand dark forests, with distant glimpses of the stormy sea beyond, there\nlived on bread and water a graceful gentleman, young and handsome; a\nscholar too, who had drunk deeply at the fountains of Pagan philosophy\nand poetry, and had been educated with care at Constantinople and at\nAthens, as well as at his native city of C\u00e6sar\u00e6a, in the heart of Asia\nMinor, now dwindled under Turkish misrule into a wretched village.  He\nwas heir to great estates; the glens and forests round him were his own:\nand that was the use which he made of them.  On the other side of the\ntorrent, his mother and his sister, a maiden of wonderful beauty, lived\nthe hermit life, on a footing of perfect equality with their female\nslaves, and the pious women who had joined them.\n\nBasil\u2019s austerities\u2014or rather the severe climate of the Black Sea\nforests\u2014brought him to an early grave.  But his short life was spent well\nenough.  He was a poet, with an eye for the beauty of Nature\u2014especially\nfor the beauty of the sea\u2014most rare in those times; and his works are\nfull of descriptions of scenery as healthy-minded as they are vivid and\ngraceful.\n\nIn his travels through Egypt, Palestine, and Syria, he had seen the\nhermits, and longed to emulate them; but (to do him justice) his ideal of\nthe so-called \u201creligious life\u201d was more practical than those of the\nsolitaries of Egypt, who had been his teachers.  \u201cIt was the life\u201d (says\nDean Milman {163}) \u201cof the industrious religious community, not of the\nindolent and solitary anchorite, which to Basil was the perfection of\nChristianity. . . .  The indiscriminate charity of these institutions was\nto receive orphans\u201d (of which there were but too many in those evil days)\n\u201cof all classes, for education and maintenance: but other children only\nwith the consent or at the request of parents, certified before\nwitnesses; and vows were by no means to be enforced upon these youthful\npupils.  Slaves who fled to the monasteries were to be admonished and\nsent back to their owners.  There is one reservation\u201d (and that one only\ntoo necessary then), \u201cthat slaves were not bound to obey their master, if\nhe should order what is contrary to the law of God.  Industry was to be\nthe animating principle of these settlements.  Prayer and psalmody were\nto have their stated hours, but by no means to intrude on those devoted\nto useful labour.  These labours were strictly defined; such as were of\nreal use to the community, not those which might contribute to vice or\nluxury.  Agriculture was especially recommended.  The life was in no\nrespect to be absorbed in a perpetual mystic communion with the Deity.\u201d\n\nThe ideal which Basil set before him was never fulfilled in the East.\nTransported to the West by St. Benedict, \u201cthe father of all monks,\u201d it\nbecame that conventual system which did so much during the early middle\nage, not only for the conversion and civilization, but for the arts and\nthe agriculture of Europe.\n\nBasil, like his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianzen, had to go forth from\nhis hermitage into the world, and be a bishop, and fight the battles of\nthe true faith.  But, as with Gregory, his hermit-training had\nstrengthened his soul, while it weakened his body.  The Emperor Valens,\nsupporting the Arians against the orthodox, sent to Basil his Prefect of\nthe Pr\u00e6torium, an officer of the highest rank.  The prefect argued,\nthreatened; Basil was firm.  \u201cI never met,\u201d said he at last, \u201csuch\nboldness.\u201d  \u201cBecause,\u201d said Basil, \u201cyou never met a bishop.\u201d  The prefect\nreturned to his Emperor.  \u201cMy lord, we are conquered; this bishop is\nabove threats.  We can do nothing but by force.\u201d  The Emperor shrank from\nthat crime, and Basil and the orthodoxy of his diocese were saved.  The\nrest of his life and of Gregory\u2019s belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to\ngeneral history, and we need pursue it no further here.\n\nI said that Basil\u2019s idea of what monks should be was never carried out in\nthe East, and it cannot be denied that, as the years went on, the hermit\nlife took a form less and less practical, and more and more repulsive\nalso.  Such men as Antony, Hilarion, Basil, had valued the ascetic\ntraining, not so much because it had, as they thought, a merit in itself,\nbut because it enabled the spirit to rise above the flesh; because it\ngave them strength to conquer their passions and appetites, and leave\ntheir soul free to think and act.\n\nBut their disciples, especially in Syria, seem to have attributed more\nand more merit to the mere act of inflicting want and suffering on\nthemselves.  Their souls were darkened, besides, more and more, by a\ndoctrine unknown to the Bible, unknown to the early Christians, and one\nwhich does not seem to have had any strong hold of the mind of Antony\nhimself\u2014namely, that sins committed after baptism could only be washed\naway by tears, and expiated by penance; that for them the merits of him\nwho died for the sins of the whole world were of little or of no avail.\n\nTherefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set their\nwhole minds to punish themselves on earth, always tortured by the dread\nthat they were not punishing themselves enough, till they crushed down\nalike body, mind, and soul into an abject superstition, the details of\nwhich are too repulsive to be written here.  Some of the instances of\nthis self-invented misery which are recorded, even as early as the time\nof Theodoret, bishop of Cyra, in the middle of the fifth century, make us\nwonder at the puzzling inconsistencies of the human mind.  Did these poor\ncreatures really believe that God could be propitiated by the torture of\nhis own creatures?  What sense could Theodoret (who was a good man\nhimself) have put upon the words, \u201cGod is good,\u201d or \u201cGod is love,\u201d while\nhe was looking with satisfaction, even with admiration and awe, on\npractices which were more fit for worshippers of Moloch?\n\nThose who think these words too strong, may judge for themselves how far\nthey apply to his story of Marana and Cyra.\n\nMarana, then, and Cyra were two young ladies of Berh\u0153a, who had given up\nall the pleasures of life to settle themselves in a roofless cottage\noutside the town.  They had stopped up the door with stones and clay, and\nallowed it only to be opened at the feast of Pentecost.  Around them\nlived certain female slaves who had voluntarily chosen the same life, and\nwho were taught and exhorted through a little window by their mistresses;\nor rather, it would seem, by Marana alone: for Cyra (who was bent double\nby her \u201ctraining\u201d) was never to speak.  Theodoret, as a priest, was\nallowed to enter the sacred enclosure, and found them shrouded from head\nto foot in long veils, so that neither their faces or hands could be\nseen; and underneath their veils, burdened on every limb, poor wretches,\nwith such a load of iron chains and rings that a strong man, he says,\ncould not have stood under the weight.  Thus had they endured for\ntwo-and-forty years, exposed to sun and wind, to frost and rain, taking\nno food at times for many days together.  I have no mind to finish the\npicture, and still less to record any of the phrases of rapturous\nadmiration with which Bishop Theodoret comments upon their pitiable\nsuperstition.\n\n\n\n\nSIMEON STYLITES\n\n\nOf all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable, perhaps, was\nthe once famous Simeon Stylites\u2014a name almost forgotten, save by\nantiquaries and ecclesiastics, till Mr. Tennyson made it once more\nnotorious in a poem as admirable for its savage grandness, as for its\ndeep knowledge of human nature.  He has comprehended thoroughly, as it\nseems to me, that struggle between self-abasement and self-conceit,\nbetween the exaggerated sense of sinfulness and the exaggerated ambition\nof saintly honour, which must have gone on in the minds of these\nascetics\u2014the temper which could cry out one moment with perfect honesty\u2014\n\n    \u201cAlthough I be the basest of mankind,\n    From scalp to sole one slough and crust of sin;\u201d\n\nat the next\u2014\n\n    \u201cI will not cease to grasp the hope I hold\n    Of saintdom; and to clamour, mourn, and sob,\n    Battering the gates of heaven with storms of prayer.\n    Have mercy, Lord, and take away my sin.\n    Let this avail, just, dreadful, mighty God,\n    This not be all in vain, that thrice ten years\n    Thrice multiplied by superhuman pangs,\n                      * * * * * *\n    A sign between the meadow and the cloud,\n    Patient on this tall pillar I have borne\n    Rain, wind, frost, heat, hail, damp, and sleet, and snow;\n    And I had hoped that ere this period closed\n    Thou wouldst have caught me up into thy rest,\n    Denying not these weather-beaten limbs\n    The meed of saints, the white robe and the palm.\n    O take the meaning, Lord: I do not breathe,\n    Not whisper any murmur of complaint.\n    Pain heaped ten hundred-fold to this, were still\n    Less burthen, by ten-hundred-fold, to bear\n    Than were those lead-like tons of sin, that crush\u2019d\n    My spirit flat before thee.\u201d\n\nAdmirably also has Mr. Tennyson conceived the hermit\u2019s secret doubt of\nthe truth of those miracles, which he is so often told that he has\nworked, that he at last begins to believe that he must have worked them;\nand the longing, at the same time, to justify himself to himself, by\npersuading himself that he has earned miraculous powers.  On this whole\nquestion of hermit miracles I shall speak at length hereafter.  I have\ngiven specimens enough of them already, and shall give as few as possible\nhenceforth.  There is a sameness about them which may become wearisome to\nthose who cannot be expected to believe them.  But what the hermits\nthemselves thought of them, is told (at least, so I suspect) only too\ntruly by Mr. Tennyson\u2014\n\n       \u201cO Lord, thou knowest what a man I am;\n    A sinful man, conceived and born in sin:\n    \u2019Tis their own doing; this is none of mine;\n    Lay it not to me.  Am I to blame for this,\n    That here come those who worship me?  Ha! ha!\n    The silly people take me for a saint,\n    And bring me offerings of fruit and flowers:\n    And I, in truth (thou wilt bear witness here),\n    Have all in all endured as much, and more\n    Than many just and holy men, whose names\n    Are register\u2019d and calendar\u2019d for saints.\n       Good people, you do ill to kneel to me.\n    What is it I can have done to merit this?\n    It may be I have wrought some miracles,\n    And cured some halt and maimed: but what of that?\n    It may be, no one, even among the saints,\n    Can match his pains with mine: but what of that?\n    Yet do not rise; for you may look on me,\n    And in your looking you may kneel to God.\n    Speak, is there any of you halt and maimed?\n    I think you know I have some power with heaven\n    From my long penance; let him speak his wish.\n       Yes, I can heal him.  Power goes forth from me.\n    They say that they are heal\u2019d.  Ah, hark! they shout,\n    \u2018St. Simeon Stylites!\u2019  Why, if so,\n    God reaps a harvest in me.  O my soul,\n    God reaps a harvest in thee.  If this be,\n    Can I work miracles, and not be saved?\n    This is not told of any.  They were saints.\n    It cannot be but that I shall be saved;\n    Yea, crowned a saint.\u201d . . .\n\nI shall not take the liberty of quoting more: but shall advise all who\nread these pages to study seriously Mr. Tennyson\u2019s poem if they wish to\nunderstand that darker side of the hermit life which became at last, in\nthe East, the only side of it.  For in the East the hermits seem to have\ndegenerated, by the time of the Mahomedan conquest, into mere\nself-torturing fakeers, like those who may be seen to this day in\nHindostan.  The salt lost its savour, and in due tune it was trampled\nunder foot; and the armies of the Moslem swept out of the East a\nsuperstition which had ended by enervating instead of ennobling humanity.\n\nBut in justice, not only to myself, but to Mr. Tennyson (whose details of\nSimeon\u2019s asceticism may seem to some exaggerated and impossible), I have\nthought fit to give his life at length, omitting only many of his\nmiracles, and certain stories of his penances, which can only excite\nhorror and disgust, without edifying the reader.\n\nThere were, then, three hermits of this name, often confounded; and all\nalike famous (as were Julian, Daniel, and other Stylites) for standing\nfor many years on pillars.  One of the Simeons is said by Moschus to have\nbeen struck by lightning, and his death to have been miraculously\nrevealed to Julian the Stylite, who lived twenty-four miles off.  More\nthan one Stylite, belonging to the Monophysite heresy of Severus\nAcephalus, was to be found, according to Moschus, in the East at the\nbeginning of the seventh century.  This biography is that of the elder\nSimeon, who died (according to Cedrenus) about 460, after passing some\nforty or fifty years upon pillars of different heights.  There is much\ndiscrepancy in the accounts, both of his date and of his age; but that\nsuch a person really existed, and had his imitators, there can be no\ndoubt.  He is honoured as a saint alike by the Latin and by the Greek\nChurches.\n\nHis life has been written by a disciple of his named Antony, who\nprofesses to have been with him when he died; and also by Theodoret, who\nknew him well in life.  Both are to be found in Rosweyde, and there seems\nno reason to doubt their authenticity.  I have therefore interwoven them\nboth, marking the paragraphs taken from each.\n\nTheodoret, who says that he was born in the village of Gesa, between\nAntioch and Cilicia, calls him that \u201cfamous Simeon\u2014that great miracle of\nthe whole world, whom all who obey the Roman rule know; whom the Persians\nalso know, and the Indians, and \u00c6thiopians; nay, his fame has even spread\nto the wandering Scythians, and taught them his love of toil and love of\nwisdom;\u201d and says that he might be compared with Jacob the patriarch,\nJoseph the temperate, Moses the legislator, David the king and prophet,\nMicaiah the prophet, and the divine men who were like them.  He tells how\nSimeon, as a boy, kept his father\u2019s sheep, and, being forced by heavy\nsnow to leave them in the fold, went with his parents to the church, and\nthere heard the Gospel which blesses those who mourn and weep, and calls\nthose miserable who laugh, and those enviable who have a pure heart.  And\nwhen he asked a bystander what he would gain who did each of these\nthings, the man propounded to him the solitary life, and pointed out to\nhim the highest philosophy.\n\nThis, Theodoret says, he heard from the saint\u2019s own tongue.  His disciple\nAntony gives the story of his conversion somewhat differently.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nSt. Simeon (says Antony) was chosen by God from his birth, and used to\nstudy how to obey and please him.  Now his father\u2019s name was Susocion,\nand he was brought up by his parents.\n\nWhen he was thirteen years old, he was feeding his father\u2019s sheep; and\nseeing a church he left the sheep and went in, and heard an epistle being\nread.  And when he asked an elder, \u201cMaster, what is that which is read?\u201d\nthe old man replied, \u201cFor the substance (or very being) of the soul, that\na man may learn to fear God with his whole heart, and his whole mind.\u201d\nQuoth the blessed Simeon, \u201cWhat is to fear God?\u201d  Quoth the elder,\n\u201cWherefore troublest thou me, my son?\u201d  Quoth he, \u201cI inquire of thee, as\nof God.  For I wish to learn what I hear from thee, because I am ignorant\nand a fool.\u201d  The elder answered, \u201cIf any man shall have fasted\ncontinually, and offered prayers every moment, and shall have humbled\nhimself to every man, and shall not have loved gold, nor parents, nor\ngarments, nor possessions, and if he honours his father and mother, and\nfollows the priests of God, he shall inherit the eternal kingdom: but he\nwho, on the contrary, does not keep those things, he shall inherit the\nouter darkness which God hath prepared for the devil and his angels.  All\nthese things, my son, are heaped together in a monastery.\u201d\n\nHearing this, the blessed Simeon fell at his feet, saying, \u201cThou art my\nfather and my mother, and my teacher of good works, and guide to the\nkingdom of heaven.  For thou hast gained my soul, which was already being\nsunk in perdition.  May the Lord repay thee again for it.  For these are\nthe things which edify.  I will now go into a monastery, where God shall\nchoose; and let his will be done on me.\u201d  The elder said, \u201cMy son, before\nthou enterest, hear me.  Thou shalt have tribulation; for thou must watch\nand serve in nakedness, and sustain ills without ceasing; and again thou\nshalt be comforted, thou vessel precious to God.\u201d\n\nAnd forthwith the blessed Simeon, going out of the church, went to the\nmonastery of the holy Timotheus, a wonder-working man; and falling down\nbefore the gate of the monastery, he lay five days, neither eating nor\ndrinking.  And on the fifth day, the abbot, coming out, asked him,\n\u201cWhence art thou, my son?  And what parents hast thou, that thou art so\nafflicted?  Or what is thy name, lest perchance thou hast done some\nwrong?  Or perchance thou art a slave, and fleest from thy master?\u201d  Then\nthe blessed Simeon said with tears, \u201cBy no means, master; but I long to\nbe a servant of God, if he so will, because I wish to save my lost soul.\nBid me, therefore, enter the monastery, and leave all; and send me away\nno more.\u201d  Then the Abbot, taking his hand, introduced him into the\nmonastery, saying to the brethren, \u201cMy sons, behold I deliver you this\nbrother; teach him the canons of the monastery.\u201d  Now he was in the\nmonastery about four months, serving all without complaint, in which he\nlearnt the whole Psalter by heart, receiving every day divine food.  But\nthe food which he took with his brethren he gave away secretly to the\npoor, not caring for the morrow.  So the brethren ate at even: but he\nonly on the seventh day.\n\nBut one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took the rope from\nthe bucket with which the brethren drew water, and wound it round his\nbody from his loins to his neck: and going in, said to the brethren, \u201cI\nwent out to draw water, and found no rope on the bucket.\u201d  And they said,\n\u201cHold thy peace, brother, lest the abbot know it; till the thing has\npassed over.\u201d  But his body was wounded by the tightness and roughness of\nthe rope, because it cut him to the bone, and sank into his flesh till it\nwas hardly seen.  But one day, some of the brethren going out, found him\ngiving his food to the poor; and when they returned, said to the abbot,\n\u201cWhence hast thou brought us that man?  We cannot abstain like him, for\nhe fasts from Lord\u2019s day to Lord\u2019s day, and gives away his food.\u201d . . .\nThen the abbot, going out, found as was told him, and said, \u201cSon, what is\nit which the brethren tell of thee?  Is it not enough for thee to fast as\nwe do?  Hast thou not heard the Gospel, saying of teachers, that the\ndisciple is not above his master?\u201d . . . The blessed Simeon stood and\nanswered nought.  And the abbot, being angry, bade strip him, and found\nthe rope round him, so that only its outside appeared; and cried with a\nloud voice, saying, \u201cWhence has this man come to us, wanting to destroy\nthe rule of the monastery?  I pray thee depart hence, and go whither thou\nwiliest.\u201d  And with great trouble they took off the rope, and his flesh\nwith it, and taking care of him, healed him.\n\nBut after he was healed he went out of the monastery, no man knowing of\nit, and entered a deserted tank, in which was no water, where unclean\nspirits dwelt.  And that very night it was revealed to the abbot, that a\nmultitude of people surrounded the monastery with clubs and swords,\nsaying, \u201cGive us Simeon the servant of God, Timotheus; else we will burn\nthee with thy monastery, because thou hast angered a just man.\u201d  And when\nhe woke, he told the brethren the vision, and how he was much disturbed\nthereby.  And another night he saw a multitude of strong men standing and\nsaying, \u201cGive us Simeon the servant of God; for he is beloved by God and\nthe angels: why hast thou vexed him?  He is greater than thou before God;\nfor all the angels are sorry on his behalf.  And God is minded to set him\non high in the world, that by him many signs may be done, such as no man\nhas done.\u201d  Then the abbot, rising, said with great fear to the brethren,\n\u201cSeek me that man, and bring him hither, lest perchance we all die on his\naccount.  He is truly a saint of God, for I have heard and seen great\nwonders of him.\u201d  Then all the monks went out and searched, but in vain,\nand told the abbot how they had sought him everywhere, save in the\ndeserted tank. . . .  Then the abbot went, with five brethren, to the\ntank.  And making a prayer, he went down into it with the brethren.  And\nthe blessed Simeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying, \u201cI beg you,\nservants of God, let me alone one hour, that I may render up my spirit;\nfor yet a little, and it will fail.  But my soul is very weary, because I\nhave angered the Lord.\u201d  But the abbot said to him, \u201cCome, servant of\nGod, that we may take thee to the monastery; for I know concerning thee\nthat thou art a servant of God.\u201d  But when he would not, they brought him\nby force to the monastery.  And all fell at his feet, weeping, and\nsaying, \u201cWe have sinned against thee, servant of God; forgive us.\u201d  But\nthe blessed Simeon groaned, saying, \u201cWherefore do ye burden an unhappy\nman and a sinner?  You are the servants of God, and my fathers.\u201d  And he\nstayed there about one year.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nAfter this (says Theodoret) he came to the Telanassus, under the peak of\nthe mountain on which he lived till his death; and having found there a\nlittle house, he remained in it shut up for three years.  But eager\nalways to increase the riches of virtue, he longed, in imitation of the\ndivine Moses and Elias, to fast forty days; and tried to persuade Bassus,\nwho was then set over the priests in the villages, to leave nothing\nwithin by him, but to close up the door with clay.  He spoke to him of\nthe difficulty, and warned him not to think that a violent death was a\nvirtue.  \u201cPut by me then, father,\u201d he said, \u201cten loaves, and a cruse of\nwater, and if I find my body need sustenance, I will partake of them.\u201d\nAt the end of the days, that wonderful man of God, Bassus, removed the\nclay, and going in, found the food and water untouched, and Simeon lying\nunable to speak or move.  Getting a sponge, he moistened and opened his\nlips and then gave him the symbols of the divine mysteries; and,\nstrengthened by them, he arose, and took some food, chewing little by\nlittle lettuces and succory, and such like.\n\nFrom that time, for twenty-eight years (says Theodoret), he had remained\nfasting continually for forty days at a time.  But custom had made it\nmore easy to him.  For on the first days he used to stand and praise God;\nafter that, when through emptiness he could stand no longer, he used to\nsit and perform the divine office; and on the last day, even lie down.\nFor when his strength failed slowly, he was forced to lie half dead.  But\nafter he stood on the column he could not bear to lie down, but invented\nanother way by which he could stand.  He fastened a beam to the column,\nand tied himself to it by ropes, and so passed the forty days.  But\nafterwards, when he had received greater grace from on high, he did not\nwant even that help: but stood for the forty days, taking no food, but\nstrengthened by alacrity of soul and divine grace.\n\nWhen he had passed three years in that little house, he took possession\nof the peak which has since been so famous; and when he had commanded a\nwall to be made round him, and procured an iron chain, twenty cubits\nlong, he fastened one end of it to a great stone, and the other to his\nright foot, so that he could not, if he wished, leave those bounds.\nThere he lived, continually picturing heaven to himself, and forcing\nhimself to contemplate things which are above the heavens; for the iron\nbond did not check the flight of his thoughts.  But when the wonderful\nMeletius, to whom the care of the episcopate of Antioch was then\ncommended (a man of sense and prudence, and adorned with shrewdness of\nintellect), told him that the iron was superfluous, since the will is\nable enough to impose on the body the chains of reason, he gave way, and\nobeyed his persuasion.  And having sent for a smith, he bade him strike\noff the chain.\n\n[Here follow some painful details unnecessary to be translated.]\n\nWhen, therefore, his fame was flying far and wide everywhere, all ran\ntogether, not only the neighbours, but those who were many days\u2019 journey\noff, some bringing the palsied, some begging health for the sick, some\nthat they might become fathers, and all wishing to receive from him what\nthey had not received from nature; and when they had received, and gained\ntheir request, they went back joyful, proclaiming the benefits they had\nobtained, and sending many more to beg the same.  So, as all are coming\nup from every quarter, and the road is like a river, one may see gathered\nin that place an ocean of men, which receives streams from every side;\nnot only of those who live in our region, but Ishmaelites, and Persians,\nand the Armenians who are subject to them, and Iberi, and Homerites, and\nthose who dwell beyond them.  Many have come also from the extreme west,\nSpaniards, and Britons, and Gauls who live between the two.  Of Italy it\nis superfluous to speak; for they say that at Rome the man has become so\ncelebrated that they have put little images of him in all the porches of\nthe shops, providing thereby for themselves a sort of safeguard and\nsecurity.\n\nWhen, therefore, they came innumerable (for all tried to touch him, and\nreceive some blessing from those skin garments of his), thinking it in\nthe first place absurd and unfit that such exceeding honour should be\npaid him, and next, disliking the labour of the business, devised that\nstation on the pillar, bidding one be built, first of six cubits, then of\ntwelve, next of twenty-two, and now of thirty-six.  For he longs to fly\nup to heaven, and be freed from this earthly conversation.\n\nBut I believe that this station was made not without divine counsel.\nWherefore I exhort fault-finders to bridle their tongue, and not let it\nrashly loose, but rather consider that the Lord has often devised such\nthings, that he might profit those who were too slothful.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nIn proof of which, Theodoret quotes the examples of Isaiah, Hosea, and\nEzekiel; and then goes on to say how God in like manner ordained this new\nand admirable spectacle, by the novelty of it drawing all to look, and\nexhibiting to those who came, a lesson which they could trust.  For the\nnovelty of the spectacle (he says) is a worthy warrant for the teaching;\nand he who came to see goes away instructed in divine things.  And as\nthose whose lot it is to rule over men, after a certain period of time,\nchange the impressions on their coins, sometimes stamping them with\nimages of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes of angels, and trying, by\na new mark, to make the gold more precious; so the King of all, adding to\npiety and true religion these new and manifold modes of living, as\ncertain stamps on coin, excites to praise the tongues not only of the\nchildren of faith, but of those who are diseased with unbelief.  And that\nso it is, not only words bear witness, but facts proclaim aloud.  For\nmany myriads of Ishmaelites, who were enslaved in the darkness of\nimpiety, have been illuminated by that station on the column.  For this\nmost shining lamp, set as it were upon a candlestick, sent forth all\nround its rays, like of the sun: and one may see (as I said) Iberi\ncoming, and Persians, and Armenians, and accepting divine baptism.  But\nthe Ishmaelites, coming by tribes, 200 and 300 at a time, and sometimes\neven 1,000, deny, with shouts, the error of their fathers; and breaking\nin pieces, before that great illuminator, the images which they had\nworshipped, and renouncing the orgies of Venus (for they had received\nfrom ancient times the worship of that d\u00e6mon), they receive the divine\nsacraments, and take laws from that holy tongue, bidding farewell to\ntheir ancestral rites, and renouncing the eating of wild asses and\ncamels.  And this I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard them\nrenouncing the impiety of their fathers, and assenting to the Evangelic\ndoctrine.\n\nBut once I was in the greatest danger: for he himself told them to go to\nme, and receive priestly benediction, saying that they would thence\nobtain great advantage.  But they, having run together in somewhat too\nbarbarous fashion, some dragged me before, some behind, some sideways;\nand those who were further off, scrambling over the others, and\nstretching out their hands, plucked my beard, or seized my clothes; and I\nshould have been stifled by their too warm onset, had not he, shouting\nout, dispersed them all.  Such usefulness has that column, which is\nmocked at by scornful men, poured forth; and so great a ray of the\nknowledge of God has it sent forth into the minds of barbarians.\n\nI know also of his having done another thing of this kind:\u2014One tribe was\nbeseeching the divine man, that he would send forth some prayer and\nblessing for their chief: but another tribe which was present retorted\nthat he ought not to bless that chief, but theirs; for the one was a most\nunjust man, but the other averse to injustice.  And when there had been a\ngreat contention and barbaric wrangling between them, they attacked each\nother.  But I, using many words, kept exhorting them to be quiet, seeing\nthat the divine man was able enough to give a blessing to both.  But the\none tribe kept saying, that the first chief ought not to have it; and the\nother tribe trying to deprive the second chief of it.  Then he, by\nthreatening them from above, and calling them dogs, hardly stilled the\nquarrel.  This I have told, wishing to show their great faith.  For they\nwould not have thus gone mad against each other, had they not believed\nthat the divine man\u2019s blessing possesses some very great power.\n\nI saw another miracle, which was very celebrated.  One coming up (he,\ntoo, was a chief of a Saracen tribe) besought the divine personage that\nhe would help a man whose limbs had given way in paralysis on the road;\nand he said the misfortune had fallen on him in Callinicus, which is a\nvery large camp.  When he was brought into the midst, the saint bade him\nrenounce the impiety of his forefathers; and when he willingly obeyed, he\nasked him if he believed in the Father, the only-begotten Son, and the\nHoly Spirit.  And when he confessed that he believed\u2014\u201cBelieving,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cin their names, Arise.\u201d  And when the man had risen, he bade him\ncarry away his chief (who was a very large man) on his shoulders to his\ntent.  He took him up, and went away forthwith; while those who were\npresent raised their voices in praise of God.  This he commanded,\nimitating the Lord, who bade the paralytic carry his bed.  Let no man\ncall this imitation tyranny.  For his saying is, \u201cHe who believeth in me,\nthe works which I do, he shall do also, and more than these shall he do.\u201d\nAnd, indeed, we have seen the fulfilment of this promise.  For though the\nshadow of the Lord never worked a miracle, the shadow of the great Peter\nboth loosed death, and drove out diseases, and put d\u00e6mons to flight.  But\nthe Lord it was who did also these miracles by his servants; and now\nlikewise, using his name, the divine Simeon works his innumerable\nwonders.\n\nIt befell also that another wonder was worked, by no means inferior to\nthe last.  For among those who had believed in the saving name of the\nLord Christ, an Ishmaelite, of no humble rank, had made a vow to God,\nwith Simeon as witness.  Now his promise was this, that he would\nhenceforth to the end abstain from animal food.  Transgressing this\npromise once, I know not how, he slew a bird, and dared to eat it.  But\nGod being minded to bring him by reproof to conversion, and to honour his\nservant, who was a witness to the broken vow, the flesh of the bird was\nchanged into the nature of a stone, so that, even if he wished, he could\nnot thenceforth eat it.  For how could he, when the body meant for food\nhad turned to stone?  The barbarian, stupified by this unexpected sight,\ncame with great haste to the holy man, bringing to the light the sin\nwhich he had hidden, and proclaimed his transgression to all, begging\npardon from God, and invoking the help of the saint, that by his\nall-powerful prayers he might loose him from the bonds of his sin.  Now\nmany saw that miracle, and felt that the part of the bird about the\nbreast consisted of bone and stone.\n\nBut I was not only an ear-witness of his wonders, but also an ear-witness\nof his prophecies concerning futurity.  For that drought which came, and\nthe great dearth of that year, and the famine and pestilence which\nfollowed together, he foretold two years before, saying that he saw a rod\nwhich was laid on man, stripes which would be inflicted by it.  Moreover,\nhe at another time foretold an invasion of locusts, and that it would\nbring no great harm, because the divine clemency soon follows punishment.\nBut when thirty days were past, an innumerable multitude of them hung\naloft, so that they even cut off the sun\u2019s rays and threw a shadow; and\nthat we all saw plainly: but it only damaged the cattle pastures, and in\nno wise hurt the food of man.  To me, too, who was attacked by a certain\nperson, he signified that the quarrel would end ere a fortnight was past;\nand I learned the truth of the prediction by experience.\n\nMoreover there were seen by him once two rods, which came down from the\nskies, and fell on the eastern and western lands.  Now the divine man\nsaid that they signified the rising of the Persian and Scythian nations\nagainst the Romans; and told the vision to those who were by, and with\nmany tears and assiduous prayers, warded that disaster, the threat\nwhereof hung over the earth.  Certainly the Persian nation, when already\narmed and prepared to invade the Romans, was kept back (the divine will\nbeing against them) from their attempt, and occupied at home with their\nown troubles.  But while I know many other cases of this kind, I shall\npass them over to avoid prolixity.  These are surely enough to show the\nspiritual contemplation of his mind.\n\nHis fame was great, also, with the King of the Persians; for as the\nambassadors told, who came to him, he diligently inquired what was his\nlife, and what his miracles.  But they say that the King\u2019s wife also\nbegged oil honoured by his blessing, and accepted it as the greatest of\ngifts.  Moreover, all the King\u2019s courtiers, being moved by his fame, and\nhaving heard many slanders against him from the Magi, inquired\ndiligently, and having learnt the truth, called him a divine man; while\nthe rest of the crowd, coming to the muleteers and servants and soldiers,\nboth offered money, and begged for a share in the oil of benediction.\nThe Queen, too, of the Ishmaelites, longing to have a child, sent first\nsome of her most noble subjects to the saint, beseeching him that she\nmight become a mother.  And when her prayer had been granted, and she had\nher heart\u2019s desire, she took the son who had been born, and went to the\ndivine old man; and (because women were not allowed to approach him) sent\nthe babe, entreating his blessing on it . . . [Here Theodoret puts into\nthe Queen\u2019s mouth words which it is unnecessary to quote.]\n\nBut how long do I strive to measure the depths of the Atlantic sea?  For\nas they are unfathomable by man, so do the things which he does daily\nsurpass narration.  I, however, admire above all these things his\nendurance; for night and day he stands, so as to be seen by all.  For as\nthe doors are taken away, and a large part of the wall around pulled\ndown, he is set forth as a new and wondrous spectacle to all; now\nstanding long, now bowing himself frequently, and offering adoration to\nGod.  Many of those who stand by count these adorations; and once a man\nwith me, when he had counted 1,244, and then missed, gave up counting:\nbut always, when he bows himself, he touches his feet with his forehead.\nFor as his stomach takes food only once in the week, and that very\nlittle\u2014no more than is received in the divine sacraments,\u2014his back admits\nof being easily bent. . . .  But nothing which happens to him overpowers\nhis philosophy; he bears nobly both voluntary and involuntary pains, and\nconquers both by readiness of will.\n\nThere came once from Arabena a certain good man, and honoured with the\nministry of Christ.  He, when he had come to that mountain peak,\u2014\u201cTell\nme,\u201d he cried, \u201cby the very truth which converts the human race to\nitself\u2014Art thou a man, or an incorporeal nature?\u201d  But when all there\nwere displeased with the question, the saint bade them all be silent, and\nsaid to him, \u201cWhy hast thou asked me this?\u201d  He answered, \u201cBecause I hear\nevery one saying publicly, that thou neither eatest nor sleepest; but\nboth are properties of man, and no one who has a human nature could have\nlived without food and sleep.\u201d  Then the saint bade them set a ladder to\nthe column, and him to come up; and first to look at his hands, and then\nfeel inside his cloak of skins; and to see not only his feet, but a\nsevere wound.  But when he saw that he was a man, and the size of that\nwound, and learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came down and told\nme all.\n\nAt the public festivals he showed an endurance of another kind.  For from\nthe setting of the sun till it had come again to the eastern horizon, he\nstood all night with hands uplift to heaven, neither soothed with sleep\nnor conquered by fatigue.  But in toils so great, and so great a\nmagnitude of deeds, and multitude of miracles, his self-esteem is as\nmoderate as if he were in dignity the least of all men.  Beside his\nmodesty, he is easy of access of speech, and gracious, and answers every\nman who speaks to him, whether he be handicraftsman, beggar, or rustic.\nAnd from the bounteous God he has received also the gift of teaching, and\nmaking his exhortations twice a day, he delights the ears of those who\nhear, discoursing much on grace, and setting forth the instructions of\nthe Divine Spirit to look up and fly toward heaven, and depart from the\nearth, and imagine the kingdom which is expected, and fear the threats of\nGehenna, and despise earthly things, and wait for things to come.  He may\nbe seen, too, acting as judge, and giving right and just decisions.\nThis, and the like, is done after the ninth hour.  For all night, and\nthrough the day to the ninth hour, he prays perpetually.  After that, he\nfirst sets forth the divine teaching to those who are present; then\nhaving heard each man\u2019s petition, after he has performed some cures, he\nsettles the quarrels of those between whom there is any dispute.  About\nsunset he begins the rest of his converse with God.  But though he is\nemployed in this way, and does all this, he does not give up the care of\nthe holy Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks,\nsometimes checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to flight\nthe bands of heretics, and sometimes sending messages concerning these\nlast to the Emperor; sometimes, too, stirring up rulers to zeal for God,\nand sometimes exhorting the pastors of the Churches to bestow more care\nupon their flocks.\n\nI have gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by one drop,\nand to give those who meet with my writing a taste on the finger of the\nsweetness of the honey.  But there remains (as is to be expected) much\nmore; and if he should live longer, he will probably add still greater\nwonders. . . .\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThus far Theodoret.  Antony gives some other details of Simeon\u2019s life\nupon the column.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nThe devil, he says, in envy transformed himself into the likeness of an\nangel, shining in splendour, with fiery horses, and a fiery chariot, and\nappeared close to the column on which the blessed Simeon stood, and shone\nwith glory like an angel.  And the devil said with bland speeches,\n\u201cSimeon, hear my words, which the Lord hath commanded thee.  He has sent\nme, his angel, with a chariot and horses of fire, that I may carry thee\naway, as I carried Elias.  For thy time is come.  Do thou, in like wise,\nascend now with me into the chariot, because the Lord of heaven and earth\nhas sent it down.  Let us ascend together into the heavens, that the\nangels and archangels may see thee, with Mary the mother of the Lord,\nwith the Apostles and martyrs, the confessors and prophets; because they\nrejoice to see thee, that thou mayest pray to the Lord, who hast made\nthee after his own image.  Verily I have spoken to thee: delay not to\nascend.\u201d  Simeon, having ended his prayer, said, \u201cLord, wilt thou carry\nme, a sinner, into heaven?\u201d  And lifting his right foot that he might\nstep into the chariot, he lifted also his right hand, and made the sign\nof Christ.  When he had made the sign of the cross, forthwith the devil\nappeared nowhere, but vanished with his device, as dust before the face\nof the wind.  Then understood Simeon that it was an art of the devil.\n\nHaving recovered himself, therefore, he said to his foot, \u201cThou shalt not\nreturn back hence, but stand here until my death, when the Lord shall\nsend for me a sinner.\u201d\n\n[Here follow more painful stories, which had best be omitted.]\n\nBut after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to see him,\nbut was forbidden, because no woman entered that place.  But when the\nblessed Simeon heard the voice of his mother, he said to her, \u201cBear up,\nmy mother, a little while, and we shall see each other, if God will.\u201d\nBut she, hearing this, began to weep, and tearing her hair, rebuked him,\nsaying, \u201cSon, why hast thou done this?  In return for the body in which I\nbore thee, thou hast filled me full of grief.  For the milk with which I\nnourished thee, thou hast given me tears.  For the kiss with which I\nkissed thee, thou hast given me bitter pangs of heart.  For the grief and\nlabour which I have suffered, thou hast laid on me cruel stripes.\u201d  And\nshe spoke so much that she made us all weep.  The blessed Simeon, hearing\nthe voice of her who bore him, put his face in his hands and wept\nbitterly; and commanded her, saying, \u201cLady mother, be still a little\ntime, and we shall see each other in eternal rest.\u201d  But she began to\nsay, \u201cBy Christ, who formed thee, if there is a probability of seeing\nthee, who hast been so long a stranger to me, let me see thee; or if not,\nlet me only hear thy voice and die at once; for thy father is dead in\nsorrow because of thee.  And now do not destroy me for very bitterness,\nmy son.\u201d  Saying this, for sorrow and weeping she fell asleep; for during\nthree days and three nights she had not ceased entreating him.  Then the\nblessed Simeon prayed the Lord for her, and she forthwith gave up the\nghost.\n\nBut they took up her body, and brought it where he could see it.  And he\nsaid, weeping, \u201cThe Lord receive thee in joy, because thou hast endured\ntribulation for me, and borne me, and nursed and nourished me with\nlabour.\u201d  And as he said that, his mother\u2019s countenance perspired, and\nher body was stirred in the sight of us all.  But he, lifting up his eyes\nto heaven, said, \u201cLord God of virtues, who sittest above the cherubim,\nand searchest the foundations of the abyss, who knewest Adam before he\nwas; who hast promised the riches of the kingdom of heaven to those who\nlove thee; who didst speak to Moses in the bush of fire; who blessedst\nAbraham our father; who bringest into Paradise the souls of the just, and\nsinkest the souls of the impious to perdition; who didst humble the\nlions, and mitigate for thy servants the strong fires of the Chaldees;\nwho didst nourish Elisha by the ravens which brought him food\u2014receive her\nsoul in peace, and put her in the place of the holy fathers, for thine is\nthe power for ever and ever.\u201d\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nAntony then goes on to relate the later years of the saint\u2019s life.\n\nHe tells how Simeon, some time after this, ascended the column of forty\ncubits; how a great dragon (serpent) crawled towards it, and coiled round\nit, entreating (so it seemed) to be freed from a spike of wood which had\nentered its eye; and how, St. Simeon took pity on it, he caused the spike\n(which was a cubit long) to come out.\n\nHe tells how a woman, drinking water from a jar at night, swallowed a\nsnake unawares, which grew within her, till she was brought to the\nblessed Simeon, who commanded some of the water of the monastery to be\ngiven her; on which the serpent crawled out of her mouth, three cubits\nlong, and burst immediately; and was hung up there seven days, as a\ntestimony to many.\n\nHe tells how, when there was great want of water, St. Simeon prayed till\nthe earth opened on the east of the monastery, and a cave full of water\nwas discovered, which had never failed them to that day.\n\nHe tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the saint, saw\na doe go by, and commanded her to stop, \u201cby the prayers of St. Simeon;\u201d\nwhich when she had done, they killed and ate her, and came to St. Simeon\nwith the skin.  But they were all struck dumb, and hardly cured after two\nyears.  And the skin of the doe they hung up, for a testimony to many.\n\nHe tells of a huge leopard, which slew men and cattle all around; and how\nSt. Simeon bade sprinkle in his haunts soil or water from the monastery;\nand when men went again, they found the leopard dead.\n\nHe tells how, when St. Simeon cured any one, he bade him go home, and\nhonour God who had healed him, and not dare to say that Simeon had cured\nhim, lest a worse thing should suddenly come to him; and not to presume\nto swear by the name of the Lord, for it was a grave sin; but to swear,\n\u201cwhether justly or unjustly, by him, lowly and a sinner.  Wherefore all\nthe Easterns, and barbarous tribes in those regions, swear by Simeon.\u201d\n\nHe tells how a robber from Antioch, Jonathan by name, fled to St. Simeon,\nand embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and saying how he had\ncommitted every crime, and had come thither to repent.  And how the saint\nsaid, \u201cOf such is the kingdom of heaven: but do not try to tempt me, lest\nthou be found again in the sins which thou hast cast away.\u201d  Then came\nthe officials from Antioch, demanding that he should be given up, to be\ncast to the wild beasts.  But Simeon answered, \u201cMy sons, I brought him\nnot hither, but One greater than I; for he helps such as this man, and of\nsuch is the kingdom of heaven.  But if you can enter, carry him hence; I\ncannot give him up, for I fear him who has sent the man to me.\u201d  And\nthey, struck with fear, went away.  Then Jonathan lay for seven days\nembracing the column, and then asked the saint leave to go.  The saint\nasked him if he were going back to sin?  \u201cNo, lord,\u201d he said; \u201cbut my\ntime is fulfilled,\u201d and straightway he gave up the ghost; and when\nofficials came again from Antioch, demanding him, Simeon replied: \u201cHe who\nbrought him came with a multitude of the heavenly host, and is able to\nsend into Tartarus your city, and all who dwell in it, who also has\nreconciled this man to himself; and I was afraid lest he should slay me\nsuddenly.  Therefore weary me no more, a humble man and poor.\u201d\n\nBut after a few years (says Antony) it befell one day that he bowed\nhimself in prayer, and remained so three days\u2014that is, the Friday, the\nSabbath, and the Lord\u2019s day.  Then I was terrified, and went up to him,\nand stood before his face, and said to him, \u201cMaster, arise: bless us; for\nthe people have been waiting three days and three nights for a blessing\nfrom thee.\u201d  And he answered me not; and I said again to him: \u201cWherefore\ndost thou grieve me, lord? or in what have I offended?  I beseech thee,\nput out thy hand to me; or, perchance, thou hast already departed from\nus?\u201d\n\nAnd seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one; for I feared\nto touch him: and, standing about half an hour, I bent down, and put my\near to listen; and there was no breathing: but a fragrance as of many\nscents rose from his body.  And so I understood that he rested in the\nLord; and, turning faint, I wept most bitterly; and, bending down, I\nkissed his eyes, and clasped his beard and hair, and reproaching him, I\nsaid: \u201cTo whom dost thou leave me, lord? or where shall I seek thy\nangelic doctrine?  What answer shall I make for thee? or whose soul will\nlook at this column, without thee, and not grieve?  What answer shall I\nmake to the sick, when they come here to seek thee, and find thee not?\nWhat shall I say, poor creature that I am?  To-day I see thee; to-morrow\nI shall look right and left, and not find thee.  And what covering shall\nI put upon thy column?  Woe to me, when folk shall come from afar,\nseeking thee, and shall not find thee!\u201d  And, for much sorrow, I fell\nasleep.\n\nAnd forthwith he appeared to me, and said: \u201cI will not leave this column,\nnor this place, and this blessed mountain, where I was illuminated.  But\ngo down, satisfy the people, and send word secretly to Antioch, lest a\ntumult arise.  For I have gone to rest, as the Lord willed: but do thou\nnot cease to minister in this place, and the Lord shall repay thee thy\nwages in heaven.\u201d\n\nBut, rising from sleep, I said, in terror, \u201cMaster, remember me in thy\nholy rest.\u201d  And, lifting up his garments, I fell at his feet, and kissed\nthem; and, holding his hands, I laid them on my eyes, saying, \u201cBless me,\nI beseech thee, my lord!\u201d  And again I wept, and said, \u201cWhat relics shall\nI carry away from thee as memorials?\u201d  And as I said that his body was\nmoved; therefore I was afraid to touch him.\n\nAnd, that no one might know, I came down quickly, and sent a faithful\nbrother to the Bishop at Antioch.  He came at once with three Bishops,\nand with them Ardaburius, the master of the soldiers, with his people,\nand stretched curtains round the column, and fastened their clothes\naround it.  For they were cloth of gold.\n\nAnd when they laid him down by the altar before the column, and gathered\nthemselves together, birds flew round the column, crying, and as it were\nlamenting, in all men\u2019s sight; and the wailing of the people and of the\ncattle resounded for seven miles away; yea, even the hills, and the\nfields, and the trees were sad around that place; for everywhere a dark\ncloud hung about it.  And I watched an angel coming to visit him; and,\nabout the seventh hour, seven old men talked with that angel, whose face\nwas like lightning, and his garments as snow.  And I watched his voice,\nin fear and trembling, as long as I could hear it; but what he said I\ncannot tell.\n\nBut when the holy Simeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of Antioch, wishing\nto take some of his beard for a blessing, stretched out his hand; and\nforthwith it was dried up; and prayers were made to God for him, and so\nhis hand was restored again.\n\nThen, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to Antioch, with psalms\nand hymns.  But all the people round that region wept, because the\nprotection of such mighty relics was taken from them, and because the\nBishop of Antioch had sworn that no man should touch his body.\n\nBut when they came to the fifth milestone from Antioch, to the village\nwhich is called Mero\u00eb, no one could move him.  Then a certain man, deaf\nand dumb for forty years, who had committed a very great crime, suddenly\nfell down before the bier, and began to cry, \u201cThou art well come, servant\nof God; for thy coming will save me: and if I shall obtain the grace to\nlive, I will serve thee all the days of my life.\u201d  And, rising, he caught\nhold of one of the mules which carried the bier, and forthwith moved\nhimself from that place.  And so the man was made whole from that hour.\n\nThen all going out of the city of Antioch received the body of the holy\nSimeon on gold and silver, with psalms and hymns, and with many lamps\nbrought it into the greater church, and thence to another church, which\nis called Penitence.  Moreover, many virtues are wrought at his tomb,\nmore than in his life; and the man who was made whole served there till\nthe day of his death.  But many offered treasures to the Bishop of\nAntioch for the faith, begging relics from the body: but, on account of\nhis oath, he never gave them.\n\nI, Antony, lowly and a sinner, have set forth briefly, as far as I could,\nthis lesson.  But blessed is he who has this writing in a book, and reads\nit in the church and house of God; and when he shall have brought it to\nhis memory, he shall receive a reward from the Most High; to whom is\nhonour, power, and virtue, for ever and ever.  Amen.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\nAfter such a fantastic story as this of Simeon, it is full time (some\nreaders may have thought that it was full time long since) to give my own\nopinion of the miracles, visions, d\u00e6mons, and other portents which occur\nin the lives of these saints.  I have refrained from doing so as yet,\nbecause I wished to begin by saying everything on behalf of these old\nhermits which could honestly be said, and to prejudice my readers\u2019 minds\nin their favour rather than against them; because I am certain that if we\nlook on them merely with scorn and ridicule,\u2014if we do not acknowledge and\nhonour all in them which was noble, virtuous, and honest,\u2014we shall never\nbe able to combat their errors, either in our own hearts or in those of\nour children: and that we may have need to do so is but too probable.  In\nthis age, as in every other age of materialism and practical atheism, a\nrevulsion in favour of superstition is at hand; I may say is taking place\nround us now.  Doctrines are tolerated as possibly true,\u2014persons are\nregarded with respect and admiration, who would have been looked on, even\nfifty years ago, if not with horror, yet with contempt, as beneath the\nserious notice of educated English people.  But it is this very contempt\nwhich has brought about the change of opinion concerning them.  It has\nbeen discovered that they were not altogether so absurd as they seemed;\nthat the public mind, in its ignorance, has been unjust to them; and, in\nhasty repentance for that injustice, too many are ready to listen to\nthose who will tell them that these things are not absurd at all\u2014that\nthere is no absurdity in believing that the leg-bone of St. Simon Stock\nmay possess miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the departed\ncommunicate with their friends by rapping on the table.  The ugly\nafter-crop of superstition which is growing up among us now is the just\nand natural punishment of our materialism\u2014I may say, of our practical\natheism.  For those who will not believe in the real spiritual world, in\nwhich each man\u2019s soul stands face to face all day long with Almighty God,\nthe Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, are sure at last to crave after\nsome false spiritual world, and seek, like the evil and profligate\ngeneration of the Jews, after visible signs and material wonders.  And\nthose who will not believe that the one true and living God is above\ntheir path and about their bed and spieth out all their ways, and that in\nhim they live and move and have their being, are but too likely at last\nto people with fancied saints and d\u00e6mons that void in the imagination and\nin the heart which their own unbelief has made.\n\nAre we then to suppose that these old hermits had lost faith in God?  On\nthe contrary, they were the only men in that day who had faith in God.\nAnd, if they had faith in any other things or persons beside God, they\nmerely shared in the general popular ignorance and mistakes of their own\nage; and we must not judge those who, born in an age of darkness, were\nstruggling earnestly toward the light, as we judge those who, born in an\nage of scientific light, are retiring of their own will back into the\ndarkness.\n\nBefore I enter upon the credibility of these alleged saints\u2019 miracles, I\nmust guard my readers carefully from supposing that I think miracles\nimpossible.  Heaven forbid.  He would be a very rash person who should do\nthat, in a world which swarms with greater wonders than those recorded in\nthe biography of a saint.  For, after all, which is more wonderful, that\nGod should be able to restore the dead to life, or that he should be able\nto give life at all?  Again, as for these miracles being contrary to our\nexperience, that is no very valid argument against them; for equally\ncontrary to our experience is every new discovery of science, every\nstrange phenomenon among plants and animals, every new experiment in a\nchemical lecture.\n\nThe more we know of science the more we must confess, that nothing is too\nstrange to be true: and therefore we must not blame or laugh at those who\nin old times believed in strange things which were not true.  They had an\nhonest and rational sense of the infinite and wonderful nature of the\nuniverse, and of their own ignorance about it; and they were ready to\nbelieve anything, as the truly wise man will be ready also.  Only, from\nignorance of the laws of the universe, they did not know what was likely\nto be true and what was not; and therefore they believed many things\nwhich experience has proved to be false; just as Seba or any of the early\nnaturalists were ready to believe in six-legged dragons, or in the fatal\npower of the basilisk\u2019s eye; fancies which, if they had been facts, would\nnot have been nearly as wonderful as the transformation of the commonest\ninsect, or the fertilization of the meanest weed: but which are rejected\nnow, not because they are too wonderful, but simply because experience\nhas proved them to be untrue.  And experience, it must be remembered, is\nthe only sound test of truth.  As long as men will settle beforehand for\nthemselves, without experience, what they ought to see, so long will they\nbe perpetually fancying that they or others have seen it; and their\nfaith, as it is falsely called, will delude not only their reason, but\ntheir very hearing, sight, and touch.\n\nIn this age we see no supernatural prodigies, because there are none to\nsee; and when we are told that the reason why we see no prodigies is\nbecause we have no faith, we answer (if we be sensible), Just so.  As\nlong as people had faith, in plain English believed, that they could be\nmagically cured of a disease, they thought that they or others were so\ncured.  As long as they believed that ghosts could be seen, every silly\nperson saw them.  As long as they believed that d\u00e6mons transformed\nthemselves into an animal\u2019s shape, they said, \u201cThe devil croaked at me\nthis morning in the shape of a raven; and therefore my horse fell with\nme.\u201d  As long as they believed that witches could curse them, they\nbelieved that an old woman in the next parish had overlooked them, their\ncattle, and their crops; and that therefore they were poor, diseased, and\nunfortunate.  These dreams, which were common among the peasants in\nremote districts five-and-twenty years ago, have vanished, simply from\nthe spread (by the grace of God, as I hold) of an inductive habit of\nmind; of the habit of looking coolly, boldly, carefully, at facts; till\nnow, even among the most ignorant peasantry, the woman who says that she\nhas seen a ghost is likely not to be complimented on her assertion.  But\nit does not follow that that woman\u2019s grandmother, when she said that she\nsaw a ghost, was a consciously dishonest person; on the contrary, so\ncomplex and contradictory is human nature, she would have been, probably,\na person of more than average intellect and earnestness; and her instinct\nof the invisible and the infinite (which is that which raises man above\nthe brutes) would have been, because misinformed, the honourable cause of\nher error.  And thus we may believe of the good hermits, of whom\nprodigies are recorded.\n\nAs to the truth of the prodigies themselves, there are several ways of\nlooking at them.\n\nFirst, we may neither believe nor disbelieve them; but talk of them as\n\u201cdevout fairy tales,\u201d religious romances, and allegories; and so save\nourselves the trouble of judging whether they were true.  That is at\nleast an easy and pleasant method; very fashionable in a careless,\nunbelieving age like this: but in following it we shall be somewhat\ncowardly; for there is hardly any matter a clear judgment on which is\nmore important just now than these same saints\u2019 miracles.\n\nNext, we may believe them utterly and all; and that is also an easy and\npleasant method.  But if we follow it, we shall be forced to believe,\namong other facts, that St. Paphnutius was carried miraculously across a\nriver, because he was too modest to undress himself and wade; that St.\nHelenus rode a savage crocodile across a river, and then commanded it to\ndie; and that it died accordingly upon the spot; and that St. Goar,\nentering the palace of the Archbishop of Tr\u00eaves, hung his cape on a\nsunbeam, mistaking it for a peg.  And many other like things we shall be\nforced to believe, with which this book has no concern.\n\nOr, again, we may believe as much as we can, because we should like, if\nwe could, to believe all.  But as we have not\u2014no man has as yet\u2014any\ncriterion by which we can judge how much of these stories we ought to\nbelieve and how much not, which actually happened and which did not,\ntherefore we shall end (as not only the most earnest and pious, but the\nmost clear and logical persons, who have taken up this view, have ended\nalready) by believing all: which is an end not to be desired.\n\nOr we may believe as few as possible of them, because we should like, if\nwe could, to believe none.  And this method, for the reason aforesaid\n(namely, that there is no criterion by which we can settle what to\nbelieve and what not), usually ends in believing none at all.\n\nThis, of believing none at all, is the last method; and this, I confess\nfairly, I am inclined to think is the right one; and that these good\nhermits worked no real miracles and saw no real visions whatsoever.\n\nI confess that this is a very serious assertion.  For there is as much\nevidence in favour of these hermits\u2019 miracles and visions as there is,\nwith most men, of the existence of China; and much more than there, with\nmost men, is of the earth\u2019s going round the sun.\n\nBut the truth is, that evidence, in most matters of importance, is worth\nvery little.  Very few people decide a question on its facts, but on\ntheir own prejudices as to what they would like to have happened.  Very\nfew people are judges of evidence; not even of their own eyes and ears.\nVery few persons, when they see a thing, know what they have seen, and\nwhat not.  They tell you quite honestly, not what they saw, but what they\nthink they ought to have seen, or should like to have seen.  It is a fact\ntoo often conveniently forgotten, that in every human crowd the majority\nwill be more or less bad, or at least foolish; the slaves of anger,\nspite, conceit, vanity, sordid hope, and sordid fear.  But let them be as\nhonest and as virtuous as they may, pleasure, terror, and the desire of\nseeming to have seen or heard more than their neighbours, and all about\nit, make them exaggerate.  If you take apart five honest men, who all\nstood by and saw the same man do anything strange, offensive, or even\nexciting, no two of them will give you quite the same account of it.  If\nyou leave them together, while excited, an hour before you question them,\nthey will have compared notes and made up one story, which will contain\nall their mistakes combined; and it will require the skill of a practised\nbarrister to pick the grain of wheat out of the chaff.\n\nMoreover, when people are crowded together under any excitement, there is\nnothing which they will not make each other believe.  They will make each\nother believe in spirit-rapping, table-turning, the mesmeric fluid,\nelectro-biology; that they saw the lion on Northumberland House wagging\nhis tail; {203} that witches have been seen riding in the air; that the\nJews had poisoned the wells; that\u2014but why go further into the sad\ncatalogue of human absurdities, and the crimes which have followed them?\nEvery one is ashamed of not seeing what every one else sees, and\npersuades himself against his own eye sight for fear of seeming stupid or\nill-conditioned; and therefore in all evidence, the fewer witnesses, the\nmore truth, because the evidence of ten men is worth more than that of a\nhundred together; and the evidence of a thousand men together is worth\nstill less.\n\nNow, if people are savage and ignorant, diseased and poverty-stricken;\neven if they are merely excited and credulous, and quite sure that\nsomething wonderful must happen, then they will be also quite certain\nthat something wonderful has happened; and their evidence will be worth\nnothing at all.\n\nMoreover, suppose that something really wonderful has happened; suppose,\nfor instance, that some nervous or paralytic person has been suddenly\nrestored to strength by the command of a saint or of some other\nremarkable man.  This is quite possible, I may say common; and it is\nowing neither to physical nor to so-called spiritual causes, but simply\nto the power which a strong mind has over a weak one, to make it exert\nitself, and cure itself by its own will, though but for a time.\n\nWhen this good news comes to be told, and to pass from mouth to mouth, it\nends of quite a different shape from that in which it began.  It has been\nadded to, taken from, twisted in every direction according to the fancy\nor the carelessness of each teller, till what really happened in the\nfirst case no one will be able to say; {204} and this is, therefore, what\nactually happened, in the case of these reported wonders.  Moreover (and\nthis is the most important consideration of all) for men to be fair\njudges of what really happens, they must have somewhat sound minds in\nsomewhat sound bodies; which no man can have (however honest and\nvirtuous) who gives himself up, as did these old hermits, to fasting and\nvigils.  That continued sleeplessness produces delusions, and at last\nactual madness, every physician knows; and they know also, as many a poor\nsailor has known when starving on a wreck, and many a poor soldier in\nsuch a retreat as that of Napoleon from Moscow, that extreme hunger and\nthirst produce delusions also, very similar to (and caused much in the\nsame way as) those produced by ardent spirits; so that many a wretched\ncreature ere now has been taken up for drunkenness, who has been simply\nstarving to death.\n\nWhence it follows that these good hermits, by continual fasts and vigils,\nmust have put themselves (and their histories prove that they did put\nthemselves) into a state of mental disease, in which their evidence was\nworth nothing; a state in which the mind cannot distinguish between facts\nand dreams; in which life itself is one dream; in which (as in the case\nof madness, or of a feverish child) the brain cannot distinguish between\nthe objects which are outside it and the imaginations which are inside\nit.  And it is plain, that the more earnest and pious, and therefore the\nmore ascetic, one of these good men was, the more utterly would his brain\nbe in a state of chronic disease.  God forbid that we should scorn them,\ntherefore, or think the worse of them in any way.  They were animated by\na truly noble purpose, the resolution to be good according to their\nlight; they carried out that purpose with heroical endurance, and they\nhave their reward: but this we must say, if we be rational people, that\non their method of holiness, the more holy any one of them was, the less\ntrustworthy was his account of any matter whatsoever; and that the\nhermit\u2019s peculiar temptations (quite unknown to the hundreds of unmarried\npersons who lead quiet and virtuous, because rational and healthy, lives)\nare to be attributed, not as they thought, to a d\u00e6mon, but to a more or\nless unhealthy nervous system.\n\nIt must be remembered, moreover, in justice to these old hermits, that\nthey did not invent the belief that the air was full of d\u00e6mons.  All the\nEastern nations had believed in Genii (Jinns), Fairies (Peris), and\nDevas, Divs, or devils.  The Devas of the early Hindus were beneficent\nbeings: to the eyes of the old Persians (in their hatred of idolatry and\npolytheism), they appeared evil beings, Divs, or Devils.  And even so the\ngenii and d\u00e6mons of the Roman Empire became, in the eyes of the early\nChristians, wicked and cruel spirits.\n\nAnd they had their reasons, and on the whole sound ones, for so regarding\nthem.  The educated classes had given up any honest and literal worship\nof the old gods.  They were trying to excuse themselves for their\nlingering half belief in them, by turning them into allegories, powers of\nnature, metaphysical abstractions, as did Porphyry and Iamblichus,\nPlotinus and Proclus, and the rest of the Neo-Platonist school of\naristocratic philosophers and fine ladies: but the lower classes still,\nin every region, kept up their own local beliefs and worships, generally\nof the most foul and brutal kind.  The animal worship of Egypt among the\nlower classes was sufficiently detestable in the time of Herodotus.  It\nhad certainly not improved in that of Juvenal and Persius; and was still\nless likely to have improved afterwards.  This is a subject so shocking\nthat it can be only hinted at.  But as a single instance\u2014what wonder if\nthe early hermits of Egypt looked on the crocodile as something diabolic,\nafter seeing it, for generations untold, petted and worshipped in many a\ncity, simply because it was the incarnate symbol of brute strength,\ncruelty, and cunning?  We must remember, also, that earlier generations\n(the old Norsemen and Germans just as much as the old Egyptians) were\nwont to look on animals as more miraculous than we do; as more akin, in\nmany cases, to human beings; as guided, not by a mere blind instinct, but\nby an intellect which was allied to, and often surpassed man\u2019s intellect.\n\u201cThe bear,\u201d said the old Norsemen, \u201chad ten men\u2019s strength, and eleven\nmen\u2019s wit;\u201d and in some such light must the old hermits have looked on\nthe hy\u00e6na, \u201cbellua,\u201d the monster _par excellence_; or on the crocodile,\nthe hippopotamus, and the poisonous snakes, which have been objects of\nterror and adoration in every country where they have been formidable.\nWhether the hy\u00e6nas were d\u00e6mons, or were merely sent by the d\u00e6mons, St.\nAntony and St. Athanasius do not clearly define, for they did not know.\nIt was enough for them that the beasts prowled at night in those desert\ncities, which were, according to the opinions, not only of the Easterns,\nbut of the Romans, the special haunt of ghouls, witches, and all uncanny\nthings.  Their fiendish laughter\u2014which, when heard even in a modern\nmenagerie, excites and shakes most person\u2019s nerves\u2014rang through hearts\nand brains which had no help or comfort, save in God alone.  The beast\ntore up the dead from their graves; devoured alike the belated child and\nthe foulest offal; and was in all things a type and incarnation of that\nwhich man ought not to be.  Why should not he, so like the worst of men,\nhave some bond or kindred with the evil beings who were not men?  Why\nshould not the graceful and deadly cobra, the horrid cerastes, the huge\nthrottling python, and even more, the loathly puff-adder,\nundistinguishable from the gravel among which he lay coiled, till he\nleaped furiously and unswerving, as if shot from a bow, upon his prey\u2014why\nshould not they too be kindred to that evil power who had been, in the\nholiest and most ancient books, personified by the name of the Serpent?\nBefore we have a right to say that the hermits\u2019 view of these deadly\nanimals was not the most rational, as well as the most natural, which\nthey could possibly have taken up, we must put ourselves in their places;\nand look at nature as they had learnt to look at it, not from Scripture\nand Christianity, so much as from the immemorial traditions of their\nheathen ancestors.\n\nIf it be argued, that they ought to have been well enough acquainted with\nthese beasts to be aware of their merely animal nature, the answer\nis\u2014that they were probably not well acquainted with the beasts of the\ndesert.  They had never, perhaps, before their \u201cconversion,\u201d left the\nnarrow valley, well tilled and well inhabited, which holds the Nile.  A\nclimb from it into the barren mountains and deserts east and west was a\njourney out of the world into chaos, and the region of the unknown and\nthe horrible, which demanded high courage from the unarmed and effeminate\nEgyptian, who knew not what monster he might meet ere sundown.  Moreover,\nit is very probable that during these centuries of decadence, in Egypt,\nas in other parts of the Roman Empire, \u201cthe wild beasts of the field had\nincreased\u201d on the population, and were reappearing in the more cultivated\ngrounds.\n\nBut these old hermits appear perpetually in another, and a more humane,\nif not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers of savage beasts.\nThose who wish to know all which can be alleged in favour of their having\npossessed such a power, should read M. de Montalembert\u2019s chapter, \u201cLes\nMoines et la Nature.\u201d {209}  All that learning and eloquence can say in\nfavour of the theory is said there; and with a candour which demands from\nno man full belief of many beautiful but impossible stories, \u201ctravesties\nof historic verity,\u201d which have probably grown up from ever-varying\ntradition in the course of ages.  M. de Montalembert himself points out a\nprobable explanation of many of them:\u2014An ingenious scholar of our\ntimes{210} (he says) has pointed out their true and legitimate origin\u2014at\nleast in Ancient Gaul.  According to him, after the gradual disappearance\nof the Gallo-Roman population, the oxen, the horses, the dogs had\nreturned to the wild state; and it was in the forest that the Breton\nmissionaries had to seek these animals, to employ them anew for domestic\nuse.  The miracle was, to restore to man the command and the enjoyment of\nthose creatures, which God had given him as instruments.\n\nThis theory is probable enough, and will explain, doubtless, many\nstories.  It may even explain those of tamed wolves, who may have been\nonly feral dogs, _i.e._ dogs run wild.  But it will not explain those in\nwhich (in Ireland as well as in Gaul) the stag appears as obeying the\nhermit\u2019s commands.  The twelve huge stags who come out of the forest to\ndraw the ploughs for St. Leonor and his monks, or those who drew to his\ngrave the corpse of the Irish hermit Kellac, or those who came out of the\nforest to supply the place of St. Colodoc\u2019s cattle, which the seigneur\nhad carried off in revenge for his having given sanctuary to a hunted\ndeer, must have been wild from the beginning; and many another tale must\nremain without any explanation whatsoever\u2014save the simplest of all.\nNeither can any such theory apply to the marvels vouched for by St.\nAthanasius, St. Jerome, and other contemporaries, which \u201cshow us (to\nquote M. de Montalembert) the most ferocious animals at the feet of such\nmen as Antony, Pachomius, Macarius, and Hilarion, and those who copied\nthem.  At every page one sees wild asses, crocodiles, hippopotami,\nhy\u00e6nas, and, above all, lions, transformed into respectful companions and\ndocile servants of these prodigies of sanctity; and one concludes thence,\nnot that these beasts had reasonable souls, but that God knew how to\nglorify those who devoted themselves to his glory, and thus show how all\nNature obeyed man before he was excluded from Paradise by his\ndisobedience.\u201d\n\nThis is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary biographers\nassign for these wonders.  The hermits were believed to have returned, by\ncelibacy and penitence, to \u201cthe life of angels;\u201d to that state of perfect\ninnocence which was attributed to our first parents in Eden: and\ntherefore of them our Lord\u2019s words were true: \u201cHe that believeth in me,\ngreater things than these (which I do) shall he do.\u201d\n\nBut those who are of a different opinion will seek for different causes.\nThey will, the more they know of these stories, admire often their\ngracefulness, often their pathos, often their deep moral significance;\nthey will feel the general truth of M. de Montalembert\u2019s words: \u201cThere is\nnot one of them which does not honour and profit human nature, and which\ndoes not express a victory of weakness over force, and of good over\nevil.\u201d  But if they look on physical facts as sacred things, as the voice\nof God revealed in the phenomena of matter, their first question will be,\n\u201cAre they true?\u201d\n\nSome of them must be denied utterly, like that of St. Helenus, riding and\nthen slaying the crocodile.  It did not happen.  Abbot Ammon {212a} did\nnot make two dragons guard his cell against robbers.  St. Gerasimus\n{212b} did not set the lion, out of whose foot he had taken a thorn, to\nguard his ass; and when the ass was stolen by an Arabian camel-driver, he\ndid not (fancying that the lion had eaten the ass) make him carry water\nin the ass\u2019s stead.  Neither did the lion, when next he met the thief and\nthe ass, bring them up, in his own justification, {212c} to St.\nGerasimus.  St. Costinian did not put a pack-saddle on a bear, and make\nhim carry a great stone.  A lioness did not bring her five blind whelps\nto a hermit, that he might give them sight. {212d}  And, though Sulpicius\nSeverus says that he saw it with his own eyes, {212e} it is hard to\nbelieve the latter part of the graceful story which he tells\u2014of an old\nhermit whom he found dwelling alone twelve miles from the Nile, by a well\nof vast depth.  One ox he had, whose whole work was to raise the water by\na wheel.  Around him was a garden of herbs, kept rich and green amid the\nburning sand, where neither seed nor root could live.  The old man and\nthe ox fed together on the produce of their common toil; but two miles\noff there was a single palm-tree, to which, after supper, the hermit\ntakes his guests.  Beneath the palm they find a lioness; but instead of\nattacking them, she moves \u201cmodestly\u201d away at the old man\u2019s command, and\nsits down to wait for her share of dates.  She feeds out of his hand,\nlike a household animal, and goes her way, leaving her guests trembling,\n\u201cand confessing how great was the virtue of the hermit\u2019s faith, and how\ngreat their own infirmity.\u201d\n\nThis last story, which one would gladly believe, were it possible, I have\ninserted as one of those which hang on the verge of credibility.  In the\nvery next page, Sulpicius Severus tells a story quite credible, of a\nshe-wolf, which he saw with his own eyes as tame as any dog.  There can\nbe no more reason to doubt that fact than to ascribe it to a miracle.  We\nmay even believe that the wolf, having gnawed to pieces the palm basket\nwhich the good old man was weaving, went off, knowing that she had done\nwrong, and after a week came back, begged pardon like a rational soul,\nand was caressed, and given a double share of bread.  Many of these\nstories which tell of the taming of wild beasts may be true, and yet\ncontain no miracle.  They are very few in number, after all, in\nproportion to the number of monks; they are to be counted at most by\ntens, while the monks are counted by tens of thousands.  And among many\ngreat companies of monks, there may have been one individual, as there\nis, for instance, in many a country parish a bee-taker or a horse-tamer,\nof quiet temper and strong nerve, and quick and sympathetic intellect,\nwhose power over animals is so extraordinary, as to be attributed by the\nsuperstitious and uneducated to some hereditary secret, or some fairy\ngift.  Very powerful to attract wild animals must have been the good\nhermits\u2019 habit of sitting motionless for hours, till (as with St.\nGuthlac) the swallows sat and sang upon his knee; and of moving slowly\nand gently at his work, till (as with St. Karilef, while he pruned his\nvines) the robin came and built in his hood as it hung upon a tree: very\npowerful his freedom from anger, and, yet more important, from fear,\nwhich always calls out rage in wild beasts, while a calm and bold front\nawes them: and most powerful of all, the kindliness of heart, the love of\ncompanionship, which brought the wild bison to feed by St. Karilef\u2019s side\nas he prayed upon the lawn; and the hind to nourish St. Giles with her\nmilk in the jungles of the Bouches du Rh\u00f4ne.  There was no miracle; save\nthe moral miracle that, in ages of cruelty and slaughter, these men had\nlearned (surely by the inspiration of God) how\u2014\n\n    \u201cHe prayeth well who loveth well\n    Both man and bird and beast;\n    He prayeth best who loveth best\n    All things, both great and small;\n    For the dear God who loveth us,\n    He made and loveth all.\u201d\n\nAfter all, let these old Lives of the Fathers tell their own tale.  By\ntheir own merits let them stand or fall; and stand they will in one\nsense: for whatsoever else they are not, this they are\u2014the histories of\ngood men.  Their physical science and their d\u00e6monology may have been on a\npar with those of the world around them: but they possessed what the\nworld did not possess, faith in the utterly good and self-sacrificing\nGod, and an ideal of virtue and purity such as had never been seen since\nthe first Whitsuntide.  And they set themselves to realize that ideal\nwith a simplicity, an energy, an endurance, which were altogether heroic.\nHow far they were right in \u201cgiving up the world\u201d depends entirely on what\nthe world was then like, and whether there was any hope of reforming it.\nIt was their opinion that there was no such hope; and those who know best\nthe facts which surrounded them, its utter frivolity, its utter\nviciousness, the deadness which had fallen on art, science, philosophy,\nhuman life, whether family, social, or political; the prevalence of\nslavery, in forms altogether hideous and unmentionable; the insecurity of\nlife and property, whether from military and fiscal tyranny, or from\nperpetual inroads of the so-called \u201cBarbarians:\u201d those, I say, who know\nthese facts best will be most inclined to believe that the old hermits\nwere wise in their generation; that the world was past salvation; that it\nwas not a wise or humane thing to marry and bring children into the\nworld; that in such a state of society, an honest and virtuous man could\nnot exist, and that those who wished to remain honest and virtuous must\nflee into the desert, and be alone with God and their fellows.\n\nThe question which had to be settled then and there, at that particular\ncrisis of the human race, was not\u2014Are certain wonders true or false?\nbut\u2014Is man a mere mortal animal, or an immortal soul?  Is his flesh meant\nto serve his spirit, or his spirit his flesh?  Is pleasure, or virtue,\nthe end and aim of his existence?\n\nThe hermits set themselves to answer that question, not by arguing or\nwriting about it, but by the only way in which any question can be\nsettled\u2014by experiment.  They resolved to try whether their immortal souls\ncould not grow better and better, while their mortal bodies were utterly\nneglected; to make their flesh serve their spirit; to make virtue their\nonly end and aim; and utterly to relinquish the very notion of pleasure.\nTo do this one thing, and nothing else, they devoted their lives; and\nthey succeeded.  From their time it has been a received opinion, not\nmerely among a few philosophers or a few Pharisees, but among the lowest,\nthe poorest, the most ignorant, who have known aught of Christianity,\nthat man is an immortal soul; that the spirit, and not the flesh, ought\nto be master and guide; that virtue is the highest good; and that purity\nis a virtue, impurity a sin.  These men were, it has been well said, the\nvery fathers of purity.  And if, in that and in other matters, they\npushed their purpose to an extreme\u2014if, by devoting themselves utterly to\nit alone, they suffered, not merely in wideness of mind or in power of\njudging evidence, but even in brain, till they became some of them at\ntimes insane from over-wrought nerves\u2014it is not for us to blame the\nsoldier for the wounds which have crippled him, or the physician for the\ndisease which he has caught himself while trying to heal others.  Let us\nnot speak ill of the bridge which carries us over, nor mock at those who\ndid the work for us as seemed to them best, and perhaps in the only way\nin which it could be done in those evil days.  As a matter of fact,\nthrough these men\u2019s teaching and example we have learnt what morality,\npurity, and Christianity we possess; and if any answer that we have\nlearnt them from the Scriptures, who but these men preserved the\nScriptures to us?  Who taught us to look on them as sacred and inspired?\nWho taught us to apply them to our own daily lives, and find comfort and\nteaching in every age, in words written ages ago by another race in a\nforeign land?  The Scriptures were the book, generally the only book,\nwhich they read and meditated, not merely from morn till night, but, as\nfar as fainting nature would allow, from night to morn again: and their\nmethod of interpreting them (as far as I can discover) differed in\nnothing from that common to all Christians now, save that they\ninterpreted literally certain precepts of our Lord and of St. Paul which\nwe consider to have applied only to the \u201ctemporary necessity\u201d of a\ndecayed, dying, and hopeless age such as that in which they lived.  And\ntherefore, because they knew the Scripture well, and learned in it\nlessons of true virtue and true philosophy, though unable to save\ncivilization in the East, they were able at least to save it in the West.\nThe European hermits, and the monastic communities which they originated,\nwere indeed a seed of life, not merely to the conquered Roman population\nof Gaul or Spain or Britain, but to the heathen and Arian barbarians who\nconquered them.  Among those fierce and armed savages, the unarmed\nhermits stood, strong only by justice, purity, and faith in God, defying\nthe oppressor, succouring the oppressed, and awing and softening the new\naristocracy of the middle age, which was founded on mere brute force and\npride of race; because the monk took his stand upon mere humanity;\nbecause he told the wild conqueror, Goth or Sueve, Frank or Burgund,\nSaxon or Norseman, that all men were equal in the sight of God; because\nhe told them (to quote Athanasius\u2019s own words concerning Antony) that\n\u201cvirtue is not beyond human nature;\u201d that the highest moral excellence\nwas possible to the most low-born and unlettered peasant whom they\ntrampled under their horses\u2019 hoofs, if he were only renewed and\nsanctified by the Spirit of God.  They accepted the lowest and commonest\nfacts of that peasant\u2019s wretched life; they outdid him in helplessness,\nloneliness, hunger, dirt, and slavery; and then said, \u201cAmong all these I\ncan yet be a man of God, wise, virtuous, pure, free, and noble in the\nsight of God, though not in the sight of C\u00e6sars, counts, and knights.\u201d\nThey went on, it is true, to glorify the means above the end; to\nconsecrate childlessness, self-torture, dirt, ignorance, as if they were\nthings pleasing to God and holy in themselves.  But in spite of those\nerrors they wrought throughout Europe a work which, as far as we can\njudge, could have been done in no other way; done only by men who gave up\nall that makes life worth having for the sake of being good themselves\nand making others good.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HERMITS OF EUROPE\n\n\nMOST readers will recollect what an important part in the old ballads and\nromances is played by the hermit.\n\nHe stands in strongest contrast to the knight.  He fills up, as it were,\nby his gentleness and self-sacrifice, what is wanting in the manhood of\nthe knight, the slave too often of his own fierceness and self-assertion.\nThe hermit rebukes him when he sins, heals him when he is wounded, stays\nhis hand in some mad murderous duel, such as was too common in days when\nany two armed horsemen meeting on road or lawn ran blindly at each other\nin the mere lust of fighting, as boars or stags might run.  Sometimes he\ninterferes to protect the oppressed serf; sometimes to rescue the hunted\ndeer which has taken sanctuary at his feet.  Sometimes, again, his\ninfluence is that of intellectual superiority; of worldly experience; of\nthe travelled man who has seen many lands and many nations.  Sometimes,\nagain, that of sympathy; for he has been a knight himself, and fought and\nsinned, and drank of the cup of vanity and vexation of spirit, like the\nfierce warrior who kneels at his feet.\n\nAll who have read (and all ought to have read) Spenser\u2019s Fairy Queen,\nmust recollect his charming description of the hermit with whom Prince\nArthur leaves Serena and the squire after they have been wounded by \u201cthe\nblatant beast\u201d of Slander; when\u2014\n\n             \u201cToward night they came unto a plain\n       By which a little hermitage there lay\n    Far from all neighbourhood, the which annoy it may.\n\n       \u201cAnd nigh thereto a little chapel stood,\n       Which being all with ivy overspread\n       Decked all the roof, and shadowing the rood,\n       Seemed like a grove fair branch\u00e8d overhead;\n       Therein the hermit which his here led\n       In straight observance of religious vow,\n       Was wont his hours and holy things to bed;\n       And therein he likewise was praying now,\n    When as these knights arrived, they wist not where nor how.\n\n       \u201cThey stayed not there, but straightway in did pass:\n       Who when the hermit present saw in place,\n       From his devotions straight he troubled was;\n       Which breaking off, he toward them did pace\n       With staid steps and grave beseeming grace:\n       For well it seemed that whilom he had been\n       Some goodly person, and of gentle race,\n       That could his good to all, and well did ween\n    How each to entertain with courtesy beseen.\n\n                                  * * * * *\n\n       \u201cHe thence them led into his hermitage,\n       Letting their steeds to graze upon the green:\n       Small was his house, and like a little cage,\n       For his own term, yet inly neat and clean,\n       Decked with green boughs, and flowers gay beseen\n       Therein he them full fair did entertain,\n       Not with such forg\u00e8d shews, as fitter been\n       For courting fools that courtesies would feign,\n    But with entire affection and appearance plain.\n\n                                  * * * * *\n\n       How be that careful hermit did his best\n       With many kinds of medicines meet to tame\n       The poisonous humour that did most infest\n    Their reakling wounds, and every day them duly dressed.\n\n       \u201cFor he right well in leech\u2019s craft was seen;\n       And through the long experience of his days,\n       Which had in many fortunes toss\u00e8d been,\n       And passed through many perilous assays:\n       He knew the divers want of mortal ways,\n       And in the minds of men had great insight;\n       Which with sage counsel, when they went astray,\n       He could inform and them reduce aright;\n    And all the passions heal which wound the weaker sprite.\n\n       \u201cFor whilome he had been a doughty knight,\n       As any one that liv\u00e8d in his days,\n       And prov\u00e8d oft in many a perilous fight,\n       In which he grace and glory won always,\n       And in all battles bore away the bays:\n       But being now attached with timely age,\n       And weary of this world\u2019s unquiet ways,\n       He took himself unto this hermitage,\n    In which he lived alone like careless bird in cage.\u201d\n\nThis picture is not poetry alone: it is history.  Such men actually\nlived, and such work they actually did, from the southernmost point of\nItaly to the northernmost point of Scotland, during centuries in which\nthere was no one else to do the work.  The regular clergy could not have\ndone it.  Bishops and priests were entangled in the affairs of this\nworld, striving to be statesmen, striving to be landowners, striving to\npass Church lands on from father to son, and to establish themselves as\nan hereditary caste of priests.  The chaplain or house-priest who was to\nbe found in every nobleman\u2019s, almost every knight\u2019s castle, was apt to\nbecome a mere upper servant, who said mass every morning in return for\nthe good cheer which he got every evening, and fetched and carried at the\nbidding of his master and mistress.  But the hermit who dwelt alone in\nthe forest glen, occupied, like an old Hebrew prophet, a superior and an\nindependent position.  He needed nought from any man save the scrap of\nland which the lord was only too glad to allow him in return for his\ncounsels and his prayers.  And to him, as to a mysterious and\nsupernatural personage, the lord went privately for advice in his\nquarrels with the neighbouring barons, or with his own kin.  To him the\nlady took her children when they were sick, to be healed, as she fancied,\nby his prayers and blessings; or poured into his ears a hundred secret\nsorrows and anxieties which she dare not tell to her fierce lord, who\nhunted and fought the livelong day, and drank too much liquor every\nnight.\n\nThis class of men sprang up rapidly, by natural causes, and yet by a\nDivine necessity, as soon as the Western Empire was conquered by the\nGerman tribes; and those two young officers whom we saw turning monks at\nTr\u00eaves, in the time of St. Augustine, may, if they lived to be old men,\nhave given sage counsel again and again to fierce German knights and\nkinglets, who had dispossessed the rich and effeminate landowners of\ntheir estates, and sold them, their wives, and children, in gangs by the\nside of their own slaves.  Only the Roman who had turned monk would\nprobably escape that fearful ruin; and he would remain behind, while the\nrest of his race was enslaved or swept away, as a seed of Christianity\nand of civilization, destined to grow and spread, and bring the wild\nconquerors in due time into the kingdom of God.\n\nFor the first century or two after the invasion of the barbarians, the\nnames of the hermits and saints are almost exclusively Latin.  Their\nbiographies represent them in almost every case as born of noble Roman\nparents.  As time goes on, German names appear, and at last entirely\nsupersede the Latin ones; showing that the conquering race had learned\nfrom the conquered to become hermits and monks like them.\n\n\n\n\nST. SEVERINUS, THE APOSTLE OF NORICUM\n\n\nOF all these saintly civilizers, St. Severinus of Vienna is perhaps the\nmost interesting, and his story the most historically instructive. {224}\n\nA common time, the middle of the fifth century, the province of Noricum\n(Austria, as we should now call it) was the very highway of invading\nbarbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom in which Huns, Alemanni,\nRugi, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled up and down and round the\nstarving and beleaguered towns of what had once been a happy and fertile\nprovince, each tribe striving to trample the other under foot, and to\nmarch southward over their corpses to plunder what was still left of the\nalready plundered wealth of Italy and Rome.  The difference of race, in\ntongue, and in manners, between the conquered and their conquerors, was\nmade more painful by difference in creed.  The conquering Germans and\nHuns were either Arians or heathens.  The conquered race (though probably\nof very mixed blood), who called themselves Romans, because they spoke\nLatin and lived under the Roman law, were orthodox Catholics; and the\nmiseries of religious persecution were too often added to the usual\nmiseries of invasion.\n\nIt was about the year 455\u201360.  Attila, the great King of the Huns, who\ncalled himself\u2014and who was\u2014\u201cthe Scourge of God,\u201d was just dead.  His\nempire had broken up.  The whole centre of Europe was in a state of\nanarchy and war; and the hapless Romans along the Danube were in the last\nextremity of terror, not knowing by what fresh invader their crops would\nbe swept off up to the very gates of the walled towers which were their\nonly defence: when there appeared among them, coming out of the East, a\nman of God.\n\nWho he was, he would not tell.  His speech showed him to be an African\nRoman\u2014a fellow-countryman of St. Augustine\u2014probably from the\nneighbourhood of Carthage.  He had certainly at one time gone to some\ndesert in the East, zealous to learn \u201cthe more perfect life.\u201d  Severinus,\nhe said, was his name; a name which indicated high rank, as did the\nmanners and the scholarship of him who bore it.  But more than his name\nhe would not tell.  \u201cIf you take me for a runaway slave,\u201d he said,\nsmiling, \u201cget ready money to redeem me with when my master demands me\nback.\u201d  For he believed that they would have need of him; that God had\nsent him into that land that he might be of use to its wretched people.\nAnd certainly he could have come into the neighbourhood of Vienna at that\nmoment for no other purpose than to do good, unless he came to deal in\nslaves.\n\nHe settled first at a town called by his biographer Casturis; and,\nlodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the hermit life.\nMeanwhile the German tribes were prowling round the town; and Severinus,\ngoing one day into the church, began to warn the priests and clergy and\nall the people that a destruction was coming on them which they could\nonly avert by prayer and fasting and the works of mercy.  They laughed\nhim to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman walls, which the\ninvaders\u2014wild horsemen, who had no military engines\u2014were unable either to\nscale or batter down.  Severinus left the town at once, prophesying, it\nwas said, the very day and hour of its fall.  He went on to the next\ntown, which was then closely garrisoned by a barbarian force, and\nrepeated his warning there: but while the people were listening to him,\nthere came an old man to the gate, and told them how Casturis had been\nalready sacked, as the man of God had foretold; and, going into the\nchurch, threw himself at the feet of St. Severinus, and said that he had\nbeen saved by his merits from being destroyed with his fellow-townsmen.\n\nThen the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and gave\nthemselves up to fasting and almsgiving and prayer for three whole days.\n\nAnd on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening sacrifice was\nfulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the barbarians, seized with\npanic fear, and probably hating and dreading\u2014like all those wild\ntribes\u2014confinement between four stone walls instead of the free open life\nof the tent and the stockade, forced the Romans to open their gates to\nthem, rushed out into the night, and in their madness slew each other.\n\nIn those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and they, as their\nsole remedy, thought good to send for the man of God from the\nneighbouring town.  He went, and preached to them, too, repentance and\nalmsgiving.  The rich, it seems, had hidden up their stores of corn, and\nleft the poor to starve.  At least St. Severinus discovered (by Divine\nrevelation, it was supposed), that a widow named Procula had done as\nmuch.  He called her out into the midst of the people, and asked her why\nshe, a noble woman and free-born, had made herself a slave to avarice,\nwhich is idolatry.  If she would not give her corn to Christ\u2019s poor, let\nher throw it into the Danube to feed the fish, for any gain from it she\nwould not have.  Procula was abashed, and served out her hoards thereupon\nwillingly to the poor; and a little while afterwards, to the astonishment\nof all, vessels came down the Danube, laden with every kind of\nmerchandise.  They had been frozen up for many days near Passau, in the\nthick ice of the river Enns: but the prayers of God\u2019s servant (so men\nbelieved) had opened the ice-gates, and let them down the stream before\nthe usual time.\n\nThen the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and carried off\nhuman beings and cattle, as many as they could find.  Severinus, like\nsome old Hebrew prophet, did not shrink from advising hard blows, where\nhard blows could avail.  Mamertinus, the tribune, or officer in command,\ntold him that he had so few soldiers, and those so ill-armed, that he\ndare not face the enemy.  Severinus answered, that they should get\nweapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would fight for them,\nand they should hold their peace: only if they took any captives they\nshould bring them safe to him.  At the second milestone from the city\nthey came upon the plunderers, who fled at once, leaving their arms\nbehind.  Thus was the prophecy of the man of God fulfilled.  The Romans\nbrought the captives back to him unharmed.  He loosed their bonds, gave\nthem food and drink, and let them go.  But they were to tell their\ncomrades that, if ever they came near that spot again, celestial\nvengeance would fall on them, for the God of the Christians fought from\nheaven in his servants\u2019 cause.\n\nSo the barbarians trembled, and went away.  And the fear of St. Severinus\nfell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though they were; and on the Rugii,\nwho held the north bank of the Danube in those evil days.  St. Severinus,\nmeanwhile, went out of Vienna, and built himself a cell at a place called\n\u201cAt the Vineyards.\u201d  But some benevolent impulse\u2014Divine revelation, his\nbiographer calls it\u2014prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a\nhill close to Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up, tenanted by\nhis disciples.  \u201cThere,\u201d says his biographer, \u201che longed to escape the\ncrowds of men who were wont to come to him, and cling closer to God in\ncontinual prayer: but the more he longed to dwell in solitude, the more\noften he was warned by revelations not to deny his presence to the\nafflicted people.\u201d  He fasted continually; he went barefoot even in the\nmidst of winter, which was so severe, the story continues, in those days\naround Vienna, that wagons crossed the Danube on the solid ice: and yet,\ninstead of being puffed-up by his own virtues, he set an example of\nhumility to all, and bade them with tears to pray for him, that the\nSaviour\u2019s gifts to him might not heap condemnation on his head.\n\nOver the wild Rugii St. Severinus seems to have acquired unbounded\ninfluence.  Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour out his sorrows to him,\nand tell him how the princes of the Goths would surely slay him; for when\nhe had asked leave of him to pass on into Italy, he would not let him go.\nBut St. Severinus prophesied to him that the Goths would do him no harm.\nOnly one warning he must take: \u201cLet it not grieve him to ask peace even\nfor the least of men.\u201d\n\nThe friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king and the\ncultivated saint was carried on by his son Feva: but his \u201cdeadly and\nnoxious wife\u201d Gisa, who appears to have been a fierce Arian, always, says\nhis biographer, kept him back from clemency.  One story of Gisa\u2019s\nmisdeeds is so characteristic both of the manners of the time and of the\nstyle in which the original biography is written, that I shall take leave\nto insert it at length.\n\n\u201cThe King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the aforementioned\nFlaccitheus, following his father\u2019s devotion, began, at the commencement\nof his reign, often to visit the holy man.  His deadly and noxious wife,\nnamed Gisa, always kept him back from the remedies of clemency.  For she,\namong the other plague-spots of her iniquity, even tried to have certain\nCatholics re-baptized: but when her husband did not consent, on account\nof his reverence for St. Severinus, she gave up immediately her\nsacrilegious intention, burdening the Romans, nevertheless, with hard\nconditions, and commanding some of them to be exiled to the Danube.  For\nwhen one day, she, having come to the village next to Vienna, had ordered\nsome of them to be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the most menial\noffices of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged that they\nmight be let go.  But she, blazing up in a flame of fury, ordered the\nharshest of answers to be returned.  \u2018I pray thee,\u2019 she said, \u2018servant of\nGod, hiding there within thy cell, allow us to settle what we choose\nabout our own slaves.\u2019  But the man of God hearing this, \u2018I trust,\u2019 he\nsaid, \u2018in my Lord Jesus Christ, that she will be forced by necessity to\nfulfil that which in her wicked will she has despised.\u2019  And forthwith a\nswift rebuke followed, and brought low the soul of the arrogant woman.\nFor she had confined in close custody certain barbarian goldsmiths, that\nthey might make regal ornaments.  To them the son of the aforesaid king,\nFrederic by name, still a little boy, had gone in, in childish levity, on\nthe very day on which the queen had despised the servant of God.  The\ngoldsmiths put a sword to the child\u2019s breast, saying, that if any one\nattempted to enter without giving them an oath that they should be\nprotected, he should die; and that they would slay the king\u2019s child\nfirst, and themselves afterwards, seeing that they had no hope of life\nleft, being worn out with long prison.  When she heard that, the cruel\nand impious queen, rending her garments for grief, cried out, \u2018O servant\nof God, Severinus, are the injuries which I did thee thus avenged?  Hast\nthou obtained by the earnest prayer thou hast poured out this punishment\nfor my contempt, that thou shouldst avenge it on my own flesh and blood?\u2019\nThen, running up and down with manifold contrition and miserable\nlamentation, she confessed that for the act of contempt which she had\ncommitted against the servant of God she was struck by the vengeance of\nthe present blow; and forthwith she sent knights to ask for forgiveness,\nand sent across the river the Romans his prayers for whom she had\ndespised.  The goldsmiths, having received immediately a promise of\nsafety, and giving up the child, were in like manner let go.\n\n\u201cThe most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave boundless thanks\nto the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of suppliants for this\nend, that as faith, hope, and charity grow, while lesser things are\nsought, He may concede greater things.  Lastly, this did the mercy of the\nOmnipotent Saviour work, that while it brought to slavery a woman free,\nbut cruel overmuch, she was forced to restore to liberty those who were\nenslaved.  This having been marvellously gained, the queen hastened with\nher husband to the servant of God, and showed him her son, who, she\nconfessed, had been freed from the verge of death by his prayers, and\npromised that she would never go against his commands.\u201d\n\nTo this period of Severinus\u2019s life belongs the once famous story of his\ninterview with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy, and brother of\nthe great Onulph or Wolf, who was the founder of the family of the\nGuelphs, Counts of Altorf, and the direct ancestors of Victoria, Queen of\nEngland.  Their father was \u00c6decon, secretary at one time of Attila, and\nchief of the little tribe of Turklings, who, though German, had clung\nfaithfully to Attila\u2019s sons, and came to ruin at the great battle of\nNetad, when the empire of the Huns broke up once and for ever.  Then\nOdoacer and his brother started over the Alps to seek their fortunes in\nItaly, and take service, after the fashion of young German adventurers,\nwith the Romans; and they came to St. Severinus\u2019s cell, and went in,\nheathens as they probably were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and\nOdoacer had to stoop and to stand stooping, so huge he was.  The saint\nsaw that he was no common lad, and said, \u201cGo to Italy, clothed though\nthou be in ragged sheepskins: thou shalt soon give greater gifts to thy\nfriends.\u201d  So Odoacer went on into Italy, deposed the last of the C\u00e6sars,\na paltry boy, Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his own\nastonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king of Italy;\nand, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered the prophecy\nof Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon he chose to ask.\nBut all that the saint asked was, that he should forgive some Romans whom\nhe had banished.  St. Severinus meanwhile foresaw that Odoacer\u2019s kingdom\nwould not last, as he seems to have foreseen many things, by no\nmiraculous revelation, but simply as a far-sighted man of the world.  For\nwhen certain German knights were boasting before him of the power and\nglory of Odoacer, he said that it would last some thirteen, or at most\nfourteen years; and the prophecy (so all men said in those days) came\nexactly true.\n\nThere is no need to follow the details of St. Severinus\u2019s labours through\nsome five-and-twenty years of perpetual self-sacrifice\u2014and, as far as\nthis world was concerned, perpetual disaster.  Eugippius\u2019s chapters are\nlittle save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the other, from Passau\nto Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the war seemed to have\nconcentrated themselves under St. Severinus\u2019s guardianship in the latter\ncity.  We find, too, tales of famine, of locust-swarms, of little\nvictories over the barbarians, which do not arrest wholesale defeat: but\nwe find through all St. Severinus labouring like a true man of God,\nconciliating the invading chiefs, redeeming captives, procuring for the\ncities which were still standing supplies of clothes for the fugitives,\npersuading the husbandmen, seemingly through large districts, to give\neven in time of dearth a tithe of their produce to the poor;\u2014a tale of\nnoble work which one regrets to see defaced by silly little prodigies,\nmore important seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius than the great\nevents which were passing round him.  But this is a fault too common with\nmonk chroniclers.  The only historians of the early middle age, they have\nleft us a miserably imperfect record of it, because they were looking\nalways rather for the preternatural than for the natural.  Many of the\nsaints\u2019 lives, as they have come down to us, are mere catalogues of\nwonders which never happened, from among which the antiquary must pick,\nout of passing hints and obscure allusions, the really important facts of\nthe time,\u2014changes political and social, geography, physical history, the\nmanners, speech, and look of nations now extinct, and even the characters\nand passions of the actors in the story.  How much can be found among\nsuch a list of wonders, by an antiquary who has not merely learning but\nintellectual insight, is proved by the admirable notes which Dr. Reeves\nhas appended to Adamnan\u2019s life of St. Columba: but one feels, while\nstudying his work, that, had Adamnan thought more of facts and less of\nprodigies, he might have saved Dr. Reeves the greater part of his labour,\nand preserved to us a mass of knowledge now lost for ever.\n\nAnd so with Eugippius\u2019s life of St. Severinus.  The reader finds how the\nman who had secretly celebrated a heathen sacrifice was discovered by St.\nSeverinus, because, while the tapers of the rest of the congregation were\nlighted miraculously from heaven, his taper alone would not light; and\npasses on impatiently, with regret that the biographer omits to mention\nwhat the heathen sacrifice was like.  He reads how the Danube dared not\nrise above the mark of the cross which St. Severinus had cut upon the\nposts of a timber chapel; how a poor man, going out to drive the locusts\noff his little patch of corn instead of staying in the church all day to\npray, found the next morning that his crop alone had been eaten, while\nall the fields around remained untouched.  Even the well-known story,\nwhich has a certain awfulness about it, how St. Severinus watched all\nnight by the bier of the dead priest Silvinus, and ere the morning dawned\nbade him in the name of God speak to his brethren; and how the dead man\nopened his eyes, and Severinus asked him whether he wished to return to\nlife, and he answered complainingly, \u201cKeep me no longer here; nor cheat\nme of that perpetual rest which I had already found,\u201d and so, closing his\neyes once more, was still for ever:\u2014even such a story as this, were it\ntrue, would be of little value in comparison with the wisdom, faith,\ncharity, sympathy, industry, utter self-sacrifice, which formed the true\ngreatness of such a man as Severinus.\n\nAt last the noble life wore itself out.  For two years Severinus had\nforetold that his end was near; and foretold, too, that the people for\nwhom he had spent himself should go forth in safety, as Israel out of\nEgypt, and find a refuge in some other Roman province, leaving behind\nthem so utter a solitude, that the barbarians, in their search for the\nhidden treasures of the civilization which they had exterminated, should\ndig up the very graves of the dead.  Only, when the Lord willed that\npeople to deliver them, they must carry away his bones with them, as the\nchildren of Israel carried the bones of Joseph.\n\nThen Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king, and Gisa, his cruel wife;\nand when he had warned them how they must render an account to God for\nthe people committed to their charge, he stretched his hand out to the\nbosom of the king.  \u201cGisa,\u201d he asked, \u201cdost thou love most the soul\nwithin that breast, or gold and silver?\u201d  She answered that she loved her\nhusband above all.  \u201cCease then,\u201d he said, \u201cto oppress the innocent: lest\ntheir affliction be the ruin of your power.\u201d\n\nSeverinus\u2019 presage was strangely fulfilled.  Feva had handed over the\ncity of Vienna to his brother Frederic,\u2014\u201cpoor and impious,\u201d says\nEugippius.  Severinus, who knew him well, sent for him, and warned him\nthat he himself was going to the Lord; and that if, after his death,\nFrederic dared touch aught of the substance of the poor and the captive,\nthe wrath of God would fall on him.  In vain the barbarian pretended\nindignant innocence; Severinus sent him away with fresh warnings.\n\n\u201cThen on the nones of January he was smitten slightly with a pain in the\nside.  And when that had continued for three days, at midnight he bade\nthe brethren come to him.\u201d  He renewed his talk about the coming\nemigration, and entreated again that his bones might not be left behind;\nand having bidden all in turn come near and kiss him, and having received\nthe sacrament of communion, he forbade them to weep for him, and\ncommanded them to sing a psalm.  They hesitated, weeping.  He himself\ngave out the psalm, \u201cPraise the Lord in his saints, and let all that hath\nbreath praise the Lord;\u201d and so went to rest in the Lord.\n\nNo sooner was he dead than Frederic seized on the garments kept in the\nmonastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded his men to carry\noff the vessels of the altar.  Then followed a scene characteristic of\nthe time.  The steward sent to do the deed shrank from the crime of\nsacrilege.  A knight, Anicianus by name, went in his stead, and took the\nvessels of the altar.  But his conscience was too strong for him.\nTrembling and delirium fell on him, and he fled away to a lonely island,\nand became a hermit there.  Frederic, impenitent, swept away all in the\nmonastery, leaving nought but the bare walls, \u201cwhich he could not carry\nover the Danube.\u201d  But on him, too, vengeance fell.  Within a month he\nwas slain by his own nephew.  Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii, and\ncarried off Feva and Gisa captive to Rome.  And then the long-promised\nemigration came.  Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to\nestablish a half-Roman kingdom in Italy), or for love of St. Severinus\nhimself, sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the miserable\nremnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed among the wasted\nand unpeopled farms of Italy.  And with them went forth the corpse of St.\nSeverinus, undecayed, though he had been six years dead, and giving forth\nexceeding fragrance, though (says Eugippius) no embalmer\u2019s hand had\ntouched it.  In a coffin, which had been long prepared for it, it was\nlaid on a wagon, and went over the Alps into Italy, working (according to\nEugippius) the usual miracles on the way, till it found a resting-place\nnear Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus at Misenum, to which Odoacer\nhad sent the last Emperor of Rome to dream his ignoble life away in\nhelpless luxury.\n\nSo ends this tragic story.  Of its substantial truth there can be no\ndoubt.  The miracles recorded in it are fewer and less strange than those\nof the average legends\u2014as is usually the case when an eye-witness writes.\nAnd that Eugippius was an eye-witness of much which he tells, no one\naccustomed to judge of the authenticity of documents can doubt, if he\nstudies the tale as it stands in Pez. {238}  As he studies, too, he will\nperhaps wish with me that some great dramatist may hereafter take\nEugippius\u2019s quaint and rough legend, and shape it into immortal verse.\nFor tragic, in the very nighest sense, the story is throughout.  M.\nOzanam has well said of that death-bed scene between the saint and the\nbarbarian king and queen\u2014\u201cThe history of invasions has many a pathetic\nscene: but I know none more instructive than the dying agony of that old\nRoman expiring between two barbarians, and less touched with the ruin of\nthe empire than with the peril of their souls.\u201d  But even more\ninstructive, and more tragic also, is the strange coincidence that the\nwonder-working corpse of the starved and barefooted hermit should rest\nbeside the last Emperor of Rome.  It is the symbol of a new era.  The\nkings of this world have been judged and cast out.  The empire of the\nflesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit to conquer thenceforth\nfor evermore.\n\nBut if St. Severinus\u2019s labours in Austria were in vain, there were other\nhermits, in Gaul and elsewhere, whose work endured and prospered, and\ndeveloped to a size of which they had never dreamed.  The stories of\nthese good men may be read at length in the Bollandists and Surius: in a\nmore accessible and more graceful form in M. de Montalembert\u2019s charming\npages.  I can only sketch, in a few words, the history of a few of the\nmore famous.  Pushing continually northward and westward from the shores\nof the Mediterranean, fresh hermits settled in the mountains and forests,\ncollected disciples round them, and founded monasteries, which, during\nthe sanguinary and savage era of the Merovingian kings, were the only\nretreats for learning, piety, and civilization.  St. Martin (the young\nsoldier who may be seen in old pictures cutting his cloak in two with a\nsword, to share it with a beggar) left, after twenty campaigns, the army\ninto which he had been enrolled against his will, a conscript of fifteen\nyears old, to become a hermit, monk, and missionary.  In the desert isle\nof Gallinaria, near Genoa, he lived on roots, to train himself for the\nmonastic life; and then went north-west, to Poitiers, to found Ligug\u00e9\n(said to be the most ancient monastery in France), to become Bishop of\nTours, and to overthrow throughout his diocese, often at the risk of his\nlife, the sacred oaks and Druid stones of the Gauls, and the temples and\nidols of the Romans.  But he\u2014like many more\u2014longed for the peace of the\nhermit\u2019s cell; and near Tours, between the river Loire and lofty cliffs,\nhe hid himself in a hut of branches, while his eighty disciples dwelt in\ncaves of the rocks above, clothed only in skins of camels.  He died in\nA.D. 397, at the age of eighty-one, leaving behind him, not merely that\nfamous monastery of Marmontier (Martini Monasterium), which endured till\nthe Revolution of 1793, but, what is infinitely more to his glory, his\nsolemn and indignant protest against the first persecution by the\nCatholic Church\u2014the torture and execution of those unhappy Priscillianist\nfanatics, whom the Spanish Bishops (the spiritual forefathers of the\nInquisition) had condemned in the name of the God of love.  Martin wept\nover the fate of the Priscillianists.  Happily he was no prophet, or his\nhead would have become (like Jeremiah\u2019s) a fount of tears, could he have\nforeseen that the isolated atrocity of those Spanish Bishops would have\nbecome the example and the rule, legalized and formulized and commanded\nby Pope after Pope, for every country in Christendom.\n\nSulpicius Severus, again (whose Lives of the Desert Fathers I have\nalready quoted), carried the example of these fathers into his own\nestates in Aquitaine.  Selling his lands, he dwelt among his now\nmanumitted slaves, sleeping on straw, and feeding on the coarsest bread\nand herbs; till the hapless neophytes found that life was not so easily\nsustained in France as in Egypt; and complained to him that it was in\nvain to try \u201cto make them live like angels, when they were only Gauls.\u201d\n\nAnother centre of piety and civilization was the rocky isle of Lerins,\noff the port of Toulon.  Covered with the ruins of an ancient Roman city,\nand swarming with serpents, it was colonized again, in A.D. 410, by a\nyoung man of rank named Honoratus, who gathered round him a crowd of\ndisciples, converted the desert isle into a garden of flowers and herbs,\nand made the sea-girt sanctuary of Lerins one of the most important spots\nof the then world.\n\n\u201cThe West,\u201d says M. de Montalembert, \u201chad thenceforth nothing to envy the\nEast; and soon that retreat, destined by its founder to renew on the\nshores of Provence the austerities of the Thebaid, became a celebrated\nschool of Christian theology and philosophy, a citadel inaccessible to\nthe waves of the barbarian invasion, an asylum for the letters and\nsciences which were fleeing from Italy, then overrun by the Goths; and,\nlastly, a nursery of bishops and saints, who spread through Gaul the\nknowledge of the Gospel and the glory of Lerins.  We shall soon see the\nrays of his light flash even into Ireland and England, by the blessed\nhands of Patrick and Augustine.\u201d\n\nIn the year 425, Romanus, a young monk from the neighbourhood of Lyons,\nhad gone up into the forests of the Jura, carrying with him the \u201cLives of\nthe Hermits,\u201d and a few seeds and tools; and had settled beneath an\nenormous pine; shut out from mankind by precipices, torrents, and the\ntangled trunks of prim\u00e6val trees, which had fallen and rotted on each\nother age after age.  His brother Lupicinus joined him; then crowds of\ndisciples; then his sister, and a multitude of women.  The forests were\ncleared, the slopes planted; a manufacture of box-wood articles\u2014chairs\namong the rest\u2014was begun; and within the next fifty years the Abbey of\nCondat, or St. Claude, as it was afterwards called, had become, not\nmerely an agricultural colony, or even merely a minster for the perpetual\nworship of God, but the first school of that part of Gaul; in which the\nworks of Greek as well as Latin orators were taught, not only to the\nyoung monks, but to young laymen likewise.\n\nMeanwhile the volcanic peaks of the Auvergne were hiding from their Arian\ninvaders the ruined gentry of Central France.  Effeminate and luxurious\nslave-holders, as they are painted by Sidonius Appolineris, bishop of\nClermont, in that same Auvergne, nothing was left for them when their\nwealth was gone but to become monks: and monks they became.  The lava\ngrottoes held hermits, who saw visions and d\u00e6mons, as St. Antony had seen\nthem in Egypt; while near Tr\u00eaves, on the Moselle, a young hermit named\nWolflaich tried to imitate St. Simeon Stylites\u2019 penance on the pillar;\ntill his bishop, foreseeing that in that severe climate he would only\nkill himself, wheedled him away from his station, pulled down the pillar\nin his absence, and bade him be a wiser man.  Another figure, and a more\ninteresting one, is the famous St. Goar; a Gaul, seemingly (from the\nrecorded names of his parents) of noble Roman blood, who took his station\non the Rhine, under the cliffs of that Lurlei so famous in legend and\nballad as haunted by some fair fiend, whose treacherous song lured the\nboatmen into the whirlpool at their foot.  To rescue the shipwrecked\nboatmen, to lodge, feed, and if need be clothe, the travellers along the\nRhine bank, was St. Goar\u2019s especial work; and Wandelbert, the monk of\nPrum, in the Eifel, who wrote his life at considerable length, tells us\nhow St. Goar was accused to the Archbishop of Tr\u00eaves as a hypocrite and a\nglutton, because he ate freely with his guests; and how his calumniators\ntook him through the forest to Tr\u00eaves; and how he performed divers\nmiracles, both on the road and in the palace of the Archbishop, notably\nthe famous one of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam, mistaking it for a\npeg.  And other miracles of his there are, some of them not altogether\nedifying: but no reader is bound to believe them, as Wandelbert is\nevidently writing in the interests of the Abbey of Prum as against those\nof the Prince-Bishops of Tr\u00eaves; and with a monk\u2019s or regular\u2019s usual\njealousy of the secular or parochial clergy and their bishops.\n\nA more important personage than any of these is the famous St. Benedict,\nfather of the Benedictine order, and \u201cfather of all monks,\u201d as he was\nafterwards called, who, beginning himself as a hermit, caused the hermit\nlife to fall, not into disrepute, but into comparative disuse; while the\nc\u0153nobitic life\u2014that is, life, not in separate cells, but in corporate\nbodies, with common property, and under one common rule\u2014was accepted as\nthe general form of the religious life in the West.  As the author of\nthis organization, and of the Benedictine order, to whose learning, as\nwell as to whose piety, the world has owed so much, his life belongs\nrather to a history of the monastic orders than to that of the early\nhermits.  But it must be always remembered that it was as a hermit that\nhis genius was trained; that in solitude he conceived his vast plans; in\nsolitude he elaborated the really wise and noble rules of his, which he\nafterwards carried out as far as he could during his lifetime in the busy\nworld; and which endured for centuries, a solid piece of practical good\nwork.  For the existence of monks was an admitted fact; even an admitted\nnecessity: St. Benedict\u2019s work was to tell them, if they chose to be\nmonks, what sort of persons they ought to be, and how they ought to live,\nin order to fulfil their own ideal.  In the solitude of the hills of\nSubiaco, above the ruined palace of Nero, above, too, the town of\nNurscia, of whose lords he was the last remaining scion, he fled to the\nmountain grotto, to live the outward life of a wild beast, and, as he\nconceived, the inward life of an angel.  How he founded twelve\nmonasteries; how he fled with some of his younger disciples, to withdraw\nthem from the disgusting persecutions and temptations of the neighbouring\nsecular clergy; how he settled himself on the still famous Monte Cassino,\nwhich looks down upon the Gulf of Gaeta, and founded there the\n\u201cArchi-Monasterium of Europe,\u201d whose abbot was in due time first premier\nbaron of the kingdom of Naples,\u2014which counted among its dependencies\n{245} four bishoprics, two principalities, twenty earldoms, two hundred\nand fifty castles, four hundred and forty towns or villages, three\nhundred and thirty-six manors, twenty-three seaports, three isles, two\nhundred mills, three hundred territories, sixteen hundred and sixty-two\nchurches, and at the end of the sixteenth century an annual revenue of\n1,500,000 ducats,\u2014are matters which hardly belong to this volume, which\ndeals merely with the lives of hermits.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CELTIC HERMITS\n\n\nIT is not necessary to enter into the vexed question whether any\nChristianity ever existed in these islands of an earlier and purer type\nthan that which was professed and practised by the saintly disciples of\nSt. Antony.  It is at least certain that the earliest historic figures\nwhich emerge from the haze of barbarous antiquity in both the Britains\nand in Ireland, are those of hermits, who, in celibacy and poverty,\ngather round them disciples, found a convent, convert and baptize the\nheathen, and often, like Antony and Hilarion, escape from the bustle and\ntoil of the world into their beloved desert.  They work the same\nmiracles, see the same visions, and live in the same intimacy with the\nwild animals, as the hermits of Egypt, or of Roman Gaul: but their\nhistory, owing to the wild imagination and (as the legends themselves\nprove) the gross barbarism of the tribes among whom they dwell, are so\ninvolved in fable and legend, that it is all but impossible to separate\nfact from fiction; all but impossible, often, to fix the time at which\nthey lived.\n\nTheir mode of life, it must always be remembered, is said to be copied\nfrom that of the Roman hermits of Gaul.  St. Patrick, the apostle of\nIreland, seems to have been of Roman or Roman British lineage.  In his\nfamous \u201cConfession\u201d (which many learned antiquaries consider as genuine)\nhe calls his father, Calphurnius a deacon; his grandfather, Potitus a\npriest\u2014both of these names being Roman.  He is said to have visited, at\nsome period of his life, the monastery of St. Martin at Tours; to have\nstudied with St. Germanus at Auxerre; and to have gone to one of the\nislands of the Tuscan sea, probably Lerins itself; and, whether or not we\nbelieve the story that he was consecrated bishop by Pope Celestine at\nRome, we can hardly doubt that he was a member of that great spiritual\nsuccession of ascetics who counted St. Antony as their father.\n\nSuch another must that Palladius have been, who was sent, says Prosper of\nAquitaine, by Pope Celestine to convert the Irish Scots, and who\n(according to another story) was cast on shore on the north-east coast of\nScotland, founded the church of Fordun, in Kincardineshire, and became a\ngreat saint among the Pictish folk.\n\nAnother prim\u00e6val figure, almost as shadowy as St. Patrick, is St. Ninian,\na monk of North Wales, who (according to Bede) first attempted the\nconversion of the Southern Picts, and built himself, at Whithorn in\nGalloway, the Candida Casa, or White House, a little church of stone,\u2014a\nwonder in those days of \u201ccreel houses\u201d and wooden stockades.  He too,\naccording to Bede, who lived some 250 years after his time, went to Rome;\nand he is said to have visited and corresponded with St. Martin of Tours.\n\nDubricius, again, whom legend makes the contemporary both of St. Patrick\nand of King Arthur, appears in Wales, as bishop and abbot of Llandaff.\nHe too is ordained by a Roman bishop, St. Germanus of Auxerre; and he too\nends his career, according to tradition, as a hermit, while his disciples\nspread away into Armorica (Brittany) and Ireland.\n\nWe need not, therefore, be surprised to find Ireland, Wales, Cornwall,\nScotland, and Brittany, during the next three centuries, swarming with\nsaints, who kept up, whether in company or alone, the old hermit-life of\nthe Thebaid; or to find them wandering, whether on missionary work, or in\nsearch of solitude, or escaping, like St. Cadoc the Wise, from the Saxon\ninvaders.  Their frequent journeys to Rome, and even to Jerusalem, may\nperhaps be set down as a fable, invented in after years by monks who were\nanxious to prove their complete dependence on the Holy See, and their\nperfect communion with the older and more civilized Christianity of the\nRoman Empire.\n\nIt is probable enough, also, that Romans from Gaul, as well as from\nBritain, often men of rank and education, who had fled before the\ninvading Goths and Franks, and had devoted themselves (as we have seen\nthat they often did) to the monastic life, should have escaped into those\nparts of these islands which had not already fallen into the hands of the\nSaxon invaders.  Ireland, as the most remote situation, would be\nespecially inviting to the fugitives; and we can thus understand the\nstory which is found in the Acts of St. Senanus, how fifty monks, \u201cRomans\nborn,\u201d sailed to Ireland to learn the Scriptures, and to lead a stricter\nlife; and were distributed between St. Senan, St. Finnian, St. Brendan,\nSt. Barry, and St. Kieran.  By such immigrations as this, it may be,\nIreland became\u2014as she certainly was for a while\u2014the refuge of what\necclesiastical civilization, learning, and art the barbarian invaders had\nspared; a sanctuary from whence, in after centuries, evangelists and\nteachers went forth once more, not only to Scotland and England, but to\nFrance and Germany.  Very fantastic, and often very beautiful, are the\nstories of these men; and sometimes tragical enough, like that of the\nWelsh St. Iltut, cousin of the mythic Arthur, and founder of the great\nmonastery of Bangor, on the banks of the Dee, which was said\u2014though we\nare not bound to believe the fact\u2014to have held more than two thousand\nmonks at the time of the Saxon invasion.  The wild warrior was converted,\nsays this legend, by seeing the earth open and swallow up his comrades,\nwho had extorted bread, beer, and a fat pig from St. Cadoc of Llancarvan,\na princely hermit and abbot, who had persuaded his father and mother to\nembrace the hermit life as the regular, if not the only, way of saving\ntheir souls.  In a paroxysm of terror he fled from his fair young wife\ninto the forest; would not allow her to share with him even his hut of\nbranches; and devoted himself to the labour of making an immense dyke of\nmud and stones to keep out the inundations of a neighbouring river.  His\npoor wife went in search of him once more, and found him in the bottom of\na dyke, no longer a gay knight, but poorly dressed, and covered with mud.\nShe went away, and never saw him more; \u201cfearing to displease God and one\nso beloved by God.\u201d  Iltut dwelt afterwards for four years in a cave,\nsleeping on the bare rock, and seems at last to have crossed over to\nBrittany, and died at Dol.\n\nWe must not forget\u2014though he is not strictly a hermit\u2014St. David, the\npopular saint of the Welsh, son of a nephew of the mythic Arthur, and\neducated by one Paulinus, a disciple, it is said, of St. Germanus of\nAuxerre.  He is at once monk and bishop: he gathers round him young monks\nin the wilderness, makes them till the ground, drawing the plough by\ntheir own strength, for he allows them not to own even an ox.  He does\nbattle against \u201csatraps\u201d and \u201cmagicians\u201d\u2014probably heathen chieftains and\nDruids; he goes to the Holy Land, and is made archbishop by the Patriarch\nof Jerusalem: he introduces, it would seem, into this island the right of\nsanctuary for criminals in any field consecrated to himself.  He restores\nthe church of Glastonbury over the tomb of his cousin, King Arthur, and\ndies at 100 years of age, \u201cthe head of the whole British nation, and\nhonour of his fatherland.\u201d  He is buried in one of his own monasteries at\nSt. David\u2019s, near the headland whence St. Patrick had seen, in a vision,\nall Ireland stretched out before him, waiting to be converted to Christ;\nand the Celtic people go on pilgrimage to his tomb, even from Brittany\nand Ireland: and, canonized in 1120, he becomes the patron saint of\nWales.\n\nFrom that same point, in what year is not said, an old monk of St.\nDavid\u2019s monastery, named Modonnoc, set sail for Ireland, after a long\nlife of labour and virtue.  A swarm of bees settled upon the bow of his\nboat, and would not be driven away.  He took them, whether he would or\nnot, with him into Ireland, and introduced there, says the legend, the\nculture of bees and the use of honey.\n\nIreland was then the \u201cIsle of Saints.\u201d  Three orders of them were counted\nby later historians: the bishops (who seem not to have had necessarily\nterritorial dioceses), with St. Patrick at their head, shining like the\nsun; the second, of priests, under St. Columba, shining like the moon;\nand the third, of bishops, priests, and hermits, under Colman and Aidan,\nshining like the stars.  Their legends, full of Irish poetry and\ntenderness, and not without touches here and there of genuine Irish\nhumour, lie buried now, to all save antiquaries, in the folios of the\nBollandists and Colgan: but the memory of their virtue and beneficence,\nas well as of their miracles, shadowy and distorted by the lapse of\ncenturies, is rooted in the heart and brain of the Irish peasantry; and\nwho shall say altogether for evil?  For with the tradition of their\nmiracles has been entwined the tradition of their virtues, as an enduring\nheirloom for the whole Irish race, through the sad centuries which part\nthe era of saints from the present time.  We see the Irish women kneeling\nbeside some well, whose waters were hallowed, ages since, by the fancied\nmiracle of some mythic saint, and hanging gaudy rags (just as do the half\nsavage Buddhists of the Himalayas) upon the bushes round.  We see them\nupon holy days crawling on bare and bleeding knees around St. Patrick\u2019s\ncell, on the top of Croagh Patrick, the grandest mountain, perhaps, with\nthe grandest outlook, in these British Isles, where stands still, I\nbelieve, an ancient wooden image, said to have belonged to St. Patrick\nhimself; and where, too, hung till late years (it is now preserved in\nDublin) an ancient bell; such a strange little oblong bell as the Irish\nsaints carried with them to keep off d\u00e6mons; one of those magic bells\nwhich appear, so far as I am aware, in no country save Ireland and\nScotland till we come to Tartary and the Buddhists: such a bell as came\ndown from heaven to St. Senan: such a bell as St. Fursey sent flying\nthrough the air to greet St. Cuandy at his devotions when he could not\ncome himself: such a bell as another saint, wandering in the woods, rang\ntill a stag came out of the covert, and carried it for him on his horns.\nOn that peak, so legends tell, St. Patrick stood once, in the spirit and\npower of Elias\u2014after whom the mountain was long named; fasting, like\nElias, forty days and forty nights, and wrestling with the d\u00e6mons of the\nstorm, and the snakes of the fen, and the Peishta-More, the gigantic\nmonster of the lakes, till he smote the evil things with the golden rod\nof Jesus, and they rolled over the cliff in hideous rout, and perished in\nthe Atlantic far below.  We know that these tales are but the dreams of\nchildren: but shall we sneer at the devotion of those poor Irish?  Not if\nwe remember (what is an undoubted fact) that the memory of these same\nsaints has kept up in their minds an ideal of nobleness and purity,\ndevotion and beneficence, which, down-trodden slaves as they have been,\nthey would otherwise have inevitably lost; that it has helped to preserve\nthem from mere brutality, and mere ferocity; and that the thought that\nthese men were of their own race and their own kin has given them a pride\nin their own race, a sense of national unity and of national dignity,\nwhich has endured\u2014and surely for their benefit, for reverence for\nancestors and the self-respect which springs from it is a benefit to\nevery human being\u2014through all the miseries, deserved or undeserved, which\nhave fallen upon the Irish since Pope Adrian IV. (the true author of all\nthe woes of Ireland), in the year 1155, commissioned Henry II. to conquer\nIreland and destroy its prim\u00e6val Church, on consideration of receiving\nhis share of the booty in the shape of Peter\u2019s Pence.\n\nAmong these Irish saints, two names stand out as especially interesting:\nthat of St. Brendan, and that of St. Columba\u2014the former as the\nrepresentative of the sailor monks of the early period, the other as the\ngreat missionary who, leaving his monastery at Durrow, in Ireland, for\nthe famous island of Hy, Iona, or Icolumbkill, off the western point of\nMull, became the apostle of Scotland and the north of England.  I shall\nfirst speak of St. Brendan, and at some length.  His name has become\nlately familiar to many, through the medium of two very beautiful poems,\none by Mr. Matthew Arnold, and the other by Mr. Sebastian Evans; and it\nmay interest those who have read their versions of the story to see the\noldest form in which the story now exists.\n\nThe Celts, it must be remembered, are not, in general, a sea-going folk.\nThey have always neglected the rich fisheries of their coasts; and in\nIreland every seaport owes its existence, not to the natives, but to\nNorse colonists.  Even now, the Irishman or Western Highlander, who\nemigrates to escape the \u201cSaxons,\u201d sails in a ship built and manned by\nthose very \u201cSaxons,\u201d to lands which the Saxons have discovered and\ncivilized.  But in the seventh and eighth centuries, and perhaps earlier,\nmany Celts were voyagers and emigrants, not to discover new worlds, but\nto flee from the old one.  There were deserts in the sea, as well as on\nland; in them they hoped to escape from men, and, yet more, from women.\n\nThey went against their carnal will.  They had no liking for the salt\nwater.  They were horribly frightened, and often wept bitterly, as they\nthemselves confess.  And they had reason for fear; for their vessels\nwere, for the most part, only \u201ccurachs\u201d (coracles) of wattled twigs,\ncovered with tanned hides.  They needed continual exhortation and comfort\nfrom the holy man who was their captain; and needed often miracles\nlikewise for their preservation.  Tempests had to be changed into calm,\nand contrary winds into fair ones, by the prayers of a saint; and the\nspirit of prophecy was needed, to predict that a whale would be met\nbetween Iona and Tiree, who appeared accordingly, to the extreme terror\nof St. Berach\u2019s crew, swimming with open jaws, and (intent on eating, not\nmonks, but herrings) nearly upsetting them by the swell which he raised.\nAnd when St. Baithenius met the same whale on the same day, it was\nnecessary for him to rise, and bless, with outspread hands, the sea and\nthe whale, in order to make him sink again, after having risen to\nbreathe.  But they sailed forth, nevertheless, not knowing whither they\nwent; true to their great principle, that the spirit must conquer the\nflesh: and so showed themselves actually braver men than the Norse\npirates, who sailed afterwards over the same seas without fear, and\nwithout the need of miracles, and who found everywhere on desert islands,\non sea-washed stacks and skerries, round Orkney, Shetland, and the\nFaro\u00ebs, even to Iceland, the cells of these \u201cPapas\u201d or Popes; and named\nthem after the old hermits, whose memory still lingers in the names of\nPapa Strona and Papa Westra, in the Orkneys, and in that of Papey, off\nthe coast of Iceland, where the first Norse settlers found Irish books,\nbells, and crosiers, the relics of old hermits who had long since fasted\nand prayed their last, and migrated to the Lord.\n\nAdanman, in his life of St. Columba, tells of more than one such voyage.\nHe tells how one Baitanus, with the saint\u2019s blessing, sailed forth to\nfind \u201ca desert\u201d in the sea; and how when he was gone, the saint\nprophesied that he should be buried, not in a desert isle, but where a\nwoman should drive sheep over his grave, the which came true in the\noak-wood of Calgaich, now Londonderry, whither he came back again.  He\ntells, again, of one Cormac, \u201ca knight of Christ,\u201d who three times sailed\nforth in a coracle to find some desert isle, and three times failed of\nhis purpose; and how, in his last voyage, he was driven northward by the\nwind fourteen days\u2019 sail, till he came where the summer sea was full of\nfoul little stinging creatures, of the size of frogs, which beat against\nthe sides of the frail boat, till all expected them to be stove in.  They\nclung, moreover, to the oar blades; {256} and Cormac was in some danger\nof never seeing land again, had not St. Columba, at home in Iona far\naway, seen him in a vision, him and his fellows, praying and \u201cwatering\ntheir cheeks with floods of tears,\u201d in the midst of \u201cperturbations\nmonstrous, horrific, never seen before, and almost unspeakable.\u201d  Calling\ntogether his monks, he bade them pray for a north wind, which came\naccordingly, and blew Cormac safe back to Iona, to tempt the waves no\nmore.  \u201cLet the reader therefore perpend how great and what manner of man\nthis same blessed personage was, who, having so great prophetic\nknowledge, could command, by invoking the name of Christ, the winds and\nocean.\u201d\n\nEven as late as the year 891, says the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: \u201cThree\nScots came to King Alfred, in a boat without any oars, from Ireland,\nwhence they had stolen away, because for the love of God they desired to\nbe on pilgrimage, they recked not where.  The boat in which they came was\nmade of two hides and a half; and they took with them provisions for\nseven days; and about the seventh day they came on shore in Cornwall, and\nsoon after went to King Alfred.  Thus they were named, Dubslane, and\nMacbeth, and Maelinmun.\u201d\n\nOut of such wild feats as these; out of dim reports of fairy islands in\nthe west; of the Canaries and Azores; of that Vinland, with its wild corn\nand wild grapes which Leif, the son of Eirek Rauda, had found beyond the\nocean a thousand years and one after the birth of Christ; of icebergs and\nfloes sailing in the far northern sea, upon the edge of the six-months\u2019\nnight; out of Edda stories of the Midgard snake, which is coiled round\nthe world; out of reports, it may be, of Indian fakirs and Buddhist\nshamans; out of scraps of Greek and Arab myth, from the Odyssey or the\nArabian Nights, brought home by \u201cJorsala Farar,\u201d vikings who had been for\npilgrimage and plunder up the Straits of Gibraltar into the far East;\u2014out\nof all these materials were made up, as years rolled on, the famous\nlegend of St. Brendan and his seven years\u2019 voyage in search of the \u201cland\npromised to the saints.\u201d\n\nThis tale was so popular in the middle age, that it appears, in different\nshapes, in almost every early European language. {257}  It was not only\nthe delight of monks, but it stirred up to wild voyages many a secular\nman in search of St. Brendan\u2019s Isle, \u201cwhich is not found when it is\nsought,\u201d but was said to be visible at times, from Palma in the Canaries.\nThe myth must have been well known to Columbus, and may have helped to\nsend him forth in search of \u201cCathay.\u201d  Thither (so the Spanish peasants\nbelieved) Don Roderic had retired from the Moorish invaders.  There (so\nthe Portuguese fancied) King Sebastian was hidden from men, after his\nreported death in the battle of Alcazar.  The West Indies, when they were\nfirst seen, were surely St. Brendan\u2019s Isle: and the Mississippi may have\nbeen, in the eyes of such old adventurers as Don Ferdinando da Soto, when\nhe sought for the Fountain of Perpetual Youth, the very river which St.\nBrendan found parting in two the Land of Promise.  From the year 1526\n(says M. Jubinal), till as late as 1721, armaments went forth from time\nto time into the Atlantic, and went forth in vain.\n\nFor the whole tale, from whatever dim reports of fact they may have\nsprung, is truly (as M. Jubinal calls it) a monkish Odyssey, and nothing\nmore.  It is a dream of the hermit\u2019s cell.  No woman, no city, nor\nnation, are ever seen during the seven years\u2019 voyage.  Ideal monasteries\nand ideal hermits people the \u201cdeserts of the ocean.\u201d  All beings therein\n(save d\u00e6mons and Cyclops) are Christians, even to the very birds, and\nkeep the festivals of the Church as eternal laws of nature.  The voyage\nsucceeds, not by seamanship, or geographic knowledge, nor even by chance:\nbut by the miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he meets;\nand the wanderings of Ulysses, or of Sinbad, are rational and human in\ncomparison with those of St. Brendan.\n\nYet there are in them, as was to be expected, elements in which the Greek\nor the Arab legends are altogether deficient; perfect innocence,\npatience, and justice; utter faith in a God who prospers the innocent and\npunishes the guilty; ennobling obedience to the saint, who stands out a\ntruly heroic figure above his trembling crew; and even more valuable\nstill, the belief in, the craving for, an ideal, even though that ideal\nbe that of a mere earthly Paradise; the \u201cdivine discontent,\u201d as it has\nbeen well called, which is the root of all true progress; which leaves\n(thank God) no man at peace save him who has said, \u201cLet us eat and drink,\nfor to-morrow we die.\u201d\n\nAnd therefore I have written at some length the story of St. Brendan;\nbecause, though it be but a monk-ideal, it is an ideal still: and\ntherefore profitable for all who are not content with this world, and its\npaltry ways.\n\nSaint Brendan, we read, the son of Finnloga, and great grandson of Alta,\nson of Ogaman, of the race of Ciar son of Fergus, was born at Tralee, and\nfounded, in 559, the Abbey of Clonfert, {260a} and was a man famous for\nhis great abstinence and virtues, and the father of nearly 3,000 monks.\n{260b}  And while he was \u201cin his warfare,\u201d there came to him one evening\na holy hermit named \u201cBarintus,\u201d of the royal race of Neill; and when he\nwas questioned, he did nought but cast himself on the ground, and weep\nand pray.  And when St. Brendan asked him to make better cheer for him\nand his monks, he told him a strange tale.  How a nephew of his had fled\naway to be a solitary, and found a delicious island, and established a\nmonastery therein; and how he himself had gone to see his nephew, and\nsailed with him to the eastward to an island, which was called \u201cthe land\nof promise of the saints,\u201d wide and grassy, and bearing all manner of\nfruits; wherein was no night, for the Lord Jesus Christ was the light\nthereof; and how they abode there for a long while without eating and\ndrinking; and when they returned to his nephew\u2019s monastery, the brethren\nknew well where they had been, for the fragrance of Paradise lingered on\ntheir garments for nearly forty days.\n\nSo Barintus told his story, and went back to his cell.  But St. Brendan\ncalled together his most loving fellow-warriors, as he called them, and\ntold them how he had set his heart on seeking that Promised Land.  And he\nwent up to the top of the hill in Kerry, which is still called Mount\nBrendan, with fourteen chosen monks; and there, at the utmost corner of\nthe world, he built him a coracle of wattle, and covered it with hides\ntanned in oak-bark and softened with butter, and set up in it a mast and\na sail, and took forty days\u2019 provision, and commanded his monks to enter\nthe boat, in the name of the Holy Trinity.  And as he stood alone,\npraying on the shore, three more monks from his monastery came up, and\nfell at his feet, and begged to go too, or they would die in that place\nof hunger and thirst; for they were determined to wander with him all the\ndays of their life.  So he gave them leave.  But two of them, he\nprophesied, would come to harm and to judgment.  So they sailed away\ntoward the summer solstice, with a fair wind, and had no need to row.\nBut after twelve days the wind fell to a calm, and they had only light\nairs at night, till forty days were past, and all their victual spent.\nThen they saw toward the north a lofty island, walled round with cliffs,\nand went about it three days ere they could find a harbour.  And when\nthey landed, a dog came fawning on them, and they followed it up to a\ngreat hall with beds and seats, and water to wash their feet.  But St.\nBrendan said, \u201cBeware, lest Satan bring you into temptation.  For I see\nhim busy with one of those three who followed us.\u201d  Now the hall was hung\nall round with vessels of divers metals, and bits and horns overlaid with\nsilver.  Then St. Brendan told his servant to bring the meal which God\nhad prepared; and at once a table was laid with napkins, and loaves\nwondrous white, and fishes.  Then they blessed God, and ate, and took\nlikewise drink as much as they would, and lay down to sleep.  Then St.\nBrendan saw the devil\u2019s work; namely, a little black boy holding a silver\nbit, and calling the brother aforementioned.  So they rested three days\nand three nights.  But when they went to the ship, St. Brendan charged\nthem with theft, and told what was stolen, and who had stolen it.  Then\nthe brother cast out of his bosom a silver bit, and prayed for mercy.\nAnd when he was forgiven and raised up from the ground, behold, a little\nblack boy flew out of his bosom, howling aloud, and crying, \u201cWhy, O man\nof God, dost thou drive me from my habitation, where I have dwelt for\nseven years?\u201d\n\nThen the brother received the Holy Eucharist, and died straightway, and\nwas buried in that isle, and the brethren saw the angels carry his soul\naloft, for St. Brendan had told him that so it should be: but that the\nbrother who came with him should have his sepulchre in hell.  And as they\nwent on board, a youth met them with a basket of loaves and a bottle of\nwater, and told them that it would not fail till Pentecost.\n\nThen they sailed again many days, till they came to an isle full of great\nstreams and fountains swarming with fish; and sheep there all white, as\nbig as oxen, so many that they hid the face of the earth.  And they\nstayed there till Easter Eve, and took one of the sheep (which followed\nthem as if it had been tame) to eat for the Paschal feast.  Then came a\nman with loaves baked in the ashes, and other victual, and fell down\nbefore St. Brendan and cried, \u201cHow have I merited this, O pearl of God,\nthat thou shouldest be fed at this holy tide from the labours of my\nhand?\u201d\n\nAnd they learned from that man that the sheep grew there so big because\nthey were never milked, nor pinched with winter, but they fed in those\npastures all the year round.  Moreover, he told them that they must keep\nEaster in an isle hard by, opposite a shore to the west, which some\ncalled the Paradise of Birds.\n\nSo to the nearest island they sailed.  It had no harbour, nor sandy\nshore, and there was no turf on it, and very little wood.  Now the Saint\nknew what manner of isle it was, but he would not tell the brethren, lest\nthey should be terrified.  So he bade them make the boat fast stem and\nstern, and when morning came he bade those who were priests to celebrate\neach a mass, and then to take the lamb\u2019s fleece on shore and cook it in\nthe caldron with salt, while St. Brendan remained in the boat.\n\nBut when the fire blazed up, and the pot began to boil, that island began\nto move like water.  Then the brethren ran to the boat imploring St.\nBrendan\u2019s aid; and he helped them each in by the hand, and cast off.\nAfter which the island sank in the ocean.  And when they could see their\nfire burning more than two miles off, St. Brendan told them how that God\nhad revealed to him that night the mystery; that this was no isle, but\nthe biggest of all fishes which swam in the ocean, always it tries to\nmake its head and its tail meet, but cannot, by reason of its length; and\nits name is Jasconius.\n\nThen, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, very grassy and\nwooded, and full of flowers.  And they found a little stream, and towed\nthe boat up it (for the stream was of the same width as the boat), with\nSt. Brendan sitting on board, till they came to the fountain thereof.\nThen said the holy father, \u201cSee, brethren, the Lord has given us a place\nwherein to celebrate his holy Resurrection.  And if we had nought else,\nthis fountain, I think, would serve for food as well as drink.\u201d  For the\nfountain was too admirable.  Over it was a huge tree of wonderful\nbreadth, but no great height, covered with snow-white birds, so that its\nleaves and boughs could scarce be seen.\n\nAnd when the man of God saw that, he was so desirous to know the cause of\nthat assemblage of birds, that he besought God upon his knees, with\ntears, saying, \u201cGod, who knowest the unknown, and revealest the hidden,\nthou knowest the anxiety of my heart. . . .  Deign of thy great mercy to\nreveal to me thy secret. . . .  But not for the merit of my own dignity,\nbut regarding thy clemency, do I presume to ask.\u201d\n\nThen one of those birds flew from off the tree, and his wings sounded\nlike bells over the boat.  And he sat on the prow, and spread his wings\njoyfully, and looked quietly on St. Brendan.  And when the man of God\nquestioned that bird, it told how they were of the spirits which fell in\nthe great ruin of the old enemy; not by sin or by consent, but\npredestined by the piety of God to fall with those with whom they were\ncreated.  But they suffered no punishment; only they could not, in part,\nbehold the presence of God.  They wandered about this world, like other\nspirits of the air, and firmament, and earth.  But on holy days they took\nthose shapes of birds, and praised their Creator in that place.\n\nThen the bird told him, how he and his monks had wandered one year\nalready, and should wander for six more; and every year should celebrate\ntheir Easter in that place, and after find the Land of Promise; and so\nflew back to its tree.\n\nAnd when the eventide was come, the birds began all with one voice to\nsing, and clap their wings, crying, \u201cThou, O God, art praised in Zion,\nand unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem.\u201d  And always they\nrepeated that verse for an hour, and their melody and the clapping of\ntheir wings was like music which drew tears by its sweetness.\n\nAnd when the man of God wakened his monks at the third watch of the night\nwith the verse, \u201cThou shalt open my lips, O Lord,\u201d all the birds\nanswered, \u201cPraise the Lord, all his angels; praise him, all his virtues.\u201d\nAnd when the dawn shone, they sang again, \u201cThe splendour of the Lord God\nis over us;\u201d and at the third hour, \u201cSing psalms to our God, sing; sing\nto our King, sing with wisdom.\u201d  And at the sixth, \u201cThe Lord hath lifted\nup the light of his countenance upon us, and had mercy on us.\u201d  And at\nthe ninth, \u201cBehold how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell in\nunity.\u201d  So day and night those birds gave praise to God.  St. Brendan,\ntherefore, seeing these things, gave thanks to God for all his marvels,\nand the brethren were refreshed with that spiritual food till the octave\nof Easter.\n\nAfter which, St. Brendan advised to take of the water of the fountain;\nfor till then they had only used it to wash their feet and hands.  But\nthere came to him the same man who had been with them three days before\nEaster, and with his boat full of meat and drink, and said, \u201cMy brothers,\nhere you have enough to last till Pentecost: but do not drink of that\nfountain.  For its nature is, that whosoever drinks will sleep for\nfour-and-twenty hours.\u201d  So they stayed till Pentecost, and rejoiced in\nthe song of the birds.  And after mass at Pentecost, the man brought them\nfood again, and bade them take of the water of the fountain and depart.\nThen the birds came again, and sat upon the prow, and told them how they\nmust, every year, celebrate Easter in the Isle of Birds, and Easter Eve\nupon the back of the fish Jasconius; and how, after eight months, they\nshould come to the isle called Ailbey, and keep their Christmas there.\n\nAfter which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of sight of\nland, and only eating after every two or three days, till they came to an\nisland, along which they sailed for forty days, and found no harbour.\nThen they wept and prayed, for they were almost worn out with weariness;\nand after they had fasted and prayed for three days, they saw a narrow\nharbour, and two fountains, one foul, one clear.  But when the brethren\nhurried to draw water, St. Brendan (as he had done once before) forbade\nthem, saying that they must take nought without leave from the elders who\nwere in that isle.\n\nAnd of the wonders which they saw in that isle it were too long to tell:\nhow there met them an exceeding old man, with snow-white hair, who fell\nat St. Brendan\u2019s feet three times, and led him in silence up to a\nmonastery of four-and-twenty silent monks, who washed their feet, and fed\nthem with bread and water, and roots of wonderful sweetness; and then at\nlast, opening his mouth, told them how that bread was sent them\nperpetually, they knew not from whence; and how they had been there\neighty years, since the times of St. Patrick, and how their father Ailbey\nand Christ had nourished them; and how they grew no older, nor ever fell\nsick, nor were overcome by cold or heat; and how brother never spoke to\nbrother, but all things were done by signs; and how he led them to a\nsquare chapel, with three candles before the mid-altar, and two before\neach of the side altars; and how they, and the chalices and patens, and\nall the other vessels, were of crystal; and how the candles were lighted\nalways by a fiery arrow, which came in through the window, and returned;\nand how St. Brendan kept his Christmas there, and then sailed away till\nLent, and came to a fruitful island where he found fish; and how when\ncertain brethren drank too much of the charmed water they slept, some\nthree days, and some one; and how they sailed north, and then east, till\nthey came back to the Isle of Sheep at Easter, and found on the shore\ntheir caldron, which they had lost on Jasconius\u2019s back; and how, sailing\naway, they were chased by a mighty fish which spouted foam, but was slain\nby another fish which spouted fire; and how they took enough of its flesh\nto last them three months; and how they came to an island flat as the\nsea, without trees, or aught that waved in the wind; and how on that\nisland were three troops of monks (as the holy man had foretold),\nstanding a stone\u2019s throw from each other: the first of boys, robed in\nsnow-white; the second of young men, dressed in hyacinthine; the third of\nold men, in purple dalmatics, singing alternately their psalms, all day\nand night: and how when they stopped singing, a cloud of wondrous\nbrightness overshadowed the isle; and how two of the young men, ere they\nsailed away, brought baskets of grapes, and asked that one of the monks\n(as had been prophesied) should remain with them, in the Isle of Strong\nMen; and how St. Brendan let him go, saying, \u201cIn a good hour did thy\nmother conceive thee, because thou hast merited to dwell with such a\ncongregation;\u201d and how those grapes were so big, that a pound of juice\nran out of each of them, and an ounce thereof fed each brother for a\nwhole day, and was as sweet as honey; and how a magnificent bird dropped\ninto the ship the bough of an unknown tree, with a bunch of grapes\nthereon; and how they came to a land where the trees were all bowed down\nwith vines, and their odour as the odour of a house full of pomegranates;\nand how they fed forty days on those grapes, and strange herbs and roots;\nand how they saw flying against them the bird which is called gryphon;\nand how that bird who had brought the bough tore out the gryphon\u2019s eyes,\nand slew him; and how they looked down into the clear sea, and saw all\nthe fishes sailing round and round, head to tail, innumerable as flocks\nin the pastures, and were terrified, and would have had the man of God\ncelebrate mass in silence, lest the fish should hear, and attack them;\nand how the man of God laughed at their folly; and how they came to a\ncolumn of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy round it of the colour\nof silver, harder than marble, and sailed in through an opening, and\nfound it all light within; {269} and how they found in that hall a\nchalice of the same stuff as the canopy, and a paten of that of the\ncolumn, and took them, that they might make many believe; and how they\nsailed out again, and past a treeless island, covered with slag and\nforges; and how a great hairy man, fiery and smutty, came down and\nshouted after them; and how when they made the sign of the Cross and\nsailed away, he and his fellows brought down huge lumps of burning slag\nin tongs, and hurled them after the ship; and how they went back, and\nblew their forges up, till the whole island flared, and the sea boiled,\nand the howling and stench followed them, even when they were out of\nsight of that evil isle; and how St. Brendan bade them strengthen\nthemselves in faith and spiritual arms, for they were now on the confines\nof hell, therefore they must watch, and play the man.  All this must\nneeds be hastened over, that we may come to the famous legend of Judas\nIscariot.\n\nThey saw a great and high mountain toward the north, with smoke about its\npeak.  And the wind blew them close under the cliffs, which were of\nimmense height, so that they could hardly see their top, upright as\nwalls, and black as coal. {270}  Then he who remained of the three\nbrethren who had followed St. Brendan sprang out of the ship, and waded\nto the cliff foot, groaning, and crying, \u201cWoe to me, father, for I am\ncarried away from you; and cannot turn back.\u201d  Then the brethren backed\nthe ship, and cried to the Lord for mercy.  But the blessed Father\nBrendan saw how that wretch was carried off by a multitude of devils, and\nall on fire among them.  Then a fair wind blew them away southward; and\nwhen they looked back they saw the peak of the isle uncovered, and flame\nspouting from it up to heaven, and sinking back again, till the whole\nmountain seemed one burning pile.\n\nAfter that terrible vision they sailed seven days to the south, till\nFather Brendan saw a dense cloud; when they neared it, a form as of a man\nsitting, and before him a veil, as big as a sack, hanging between two\niron tongs, and rocking on the waves like a boat in a whirlwind.  Which\nwhen the brethren saw some thought was a bird, and some a boat; but the\nman of God bade them give over arguing, and row thither.  And when they\ngot near, the waves were still, as if they had been frozen; and they\nfound a man sitting on a rough and shapeless rock, and the waves beating\nover his head; and when they fell back, the bare rock appeared on which\nthat wretch was sitting.  And the cloth which hung before him the wind\nmoved, and beat him with it on the eyes and brow.  But when the blessed\nman asked him who he was, and how he had earned that doom, he said, \u201cI am\nthat most wretched Judas, who made the worst of all bargains.  But I hold\nnot this place for any merit of my own, but for the ineffable mercy of\nChrist.  I expect no place of repentance: but for the indulgence and\nmercy of the Redeemer of the world, and for the honour of His holy\nresurrection, I have this refreshment; for it is the Lord\u2019s-day now, and\nas I sit here I seem to myself in a paradise of delight, by reason of the\npains which will be mine this evening; for when I am in my pains I burn\nday and night like lead melted in a pot.  But in the midst of that\nmountain which you saw, is Leviathan with his satellites, and I was there\nwhen he swallowed your brother; and therefore the king of hell rejoiced,\nand sent forth huge flames, as he doth always when he devours the souls\nof the impious.\u201d  Then he told them how he had his refreshings there\nevery Lord\u2019s-day from even to even, and from Christmas to Epiphany, and\nfrom Easter to Pentecost, and from the Purification of the Blessed Virgin\nto her Assumption: but the rest of his time he was tormented with Herod\nand Pilate, Annas and Caiaphas; and so adjured them to intercede for him\nwith the Lord that he might be there at least till sunrise in the morn.\nTo whom the man of God said, \u201cThe will of the Lord be done.  Thou shalt\nnot be carried off by the d\u00e6mons till to-morrow.\u201d  Then he asked him of\nthat clothing, and he told how he had given it to a leper when he was the\nLord\u2019s chamberlain; \u201cbut because it was no more mine than it was the\nLord\u2019s and the other brethren\u2019s, therefore it is of no comfort to me, but\nrather a hurt.  And these forks I gave to the priests to hang their\ncaldrons on.  And this stone on which I always sit I took off the road,\nand threw it into a ditch for a stepping-stone, before I was a disciple\nof the Lord.\u201d {272}\n\n\u201cBut when the evening hour had covered the face of Thetis,\u201d behold a\nmultitude of d\u00e6mons shouting in a ring, and bidding the man of God\ndepart, for else they could not approach; and they dared not behold their\nprince\u2019s face unless they brought back their prey.  But the man of God\nbade them depart.  And in the morning an infinite multitude of devils\ncovered the face of the abyss, and cursed the man of God for coming\nthither; for their prince had scourged them cruelly that night for not\nbringing back the captive.  But the man of God returned their curses on\ntheir own heads, saying that \u201ccursed was he whom they blest, and blessed\nhe whom they cursed;\u201d and when they threatened Judas with double torments\nbecause he had not come back, the man of God rebuked them.\n\n\u201cArt thou, then, Lord of all,\u201d they asked, \u201cthat we should obey thee?\u201d\n\u201cI am the servant,\u201d said he, \u201cof the Lord of all; and whatsoever I\ncommand in his name is done; and I have no ministry save what he concedes\nto me.\u201d\n\nSo they blasphemed him till he left Judas, and then returned, and carried\noff that wretched soul with great rushing and howling.\n\nAfter which they saw a little isle; and the holy man told them that now\nseven years were nigh past; and that in that isle they should soon see a\nhermit, named Paul the Spiritual, who had lived for sixty years without\nany corporeal food, but for thirty years before that he had received food\nfrom a certain beast.\n\nThe isle was very small, about a furlong round; a bare rock, so steep\nthat they could find no landing-place.  But at last they found a creek,\ninto which they thrust the boat\u2019s bow, and then discovered a very\ndifficult ascent.  Up that the man of God climbed, bidding them wait for\nhim, for they must not enter the isle without the hermit\u2019s leave; and\nwhen he came to the top he saw two caves, with their mouths opposite each\nother, and a very small round well before the cave mouth, whose waters,\nas fast as they ran out, were sucked in again by the rock. {274}  As he\nwent to one entrance, the old man came out of the other, saying, \u201cBehold\nhow good and pleasant it is, brethren, to dwell together in unity,\u201d and\nbade him call up the brethren from the boat; and when they came, he\nkissed them, and called them each by his name.  Whereat they marvelled,\nnot only at his spirit of prophecy, but also at his attire; for he was\nall covered with his locks and beard, and with the other hair of his\nbody, down to his feet.  His hair was white as snow for age, and none\nother covering had he.  When St. Brendan saw that, he sighed again and\nagain, and said within himself, \u201cWoe is me, sinner that I am, who wear a\nmonk\u2019s habit, and have many monks under me, when I see a man of angelic\ndignity sitting in a cell, still in the flesh, and unhurt by the vices of\nthe flesh.\u201d  To whom the man of God answered, \u201cVenerable father, what\ngreat and many wonders God hath showed thee, which he hath manifested to\nnone of the fathers, and thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not\nworthy to wear a monk\u2019s habit.  I tell thee, father, that thou art\ngreater than a monk; for a monk is fed and clothed by the work of his own\nhands: but God has fed and clothed thee and thy family for seven years\nwith his secret things, while wretched I sit here on this rock like a\nbird, naked save the hair of my body.\u201d\n\nThen St. Brendan asked him how and whence he came thither; and he told\nhow he was nourished in St. Patrick\u2019s monastery for fifty years, and took\ncare of the cemetery; and how when the dean had bidden him dig a grave,\nan old man, whom he knew not, appeared to him, and forbade him, for that\ngrave was another man\u2019s.  And how he revealed to him that he was St.\nPatrick, his own abbot, who had died the day before, and bade him bury\nthat brother elsewhere, and go down to the sea and find a boat, which\nwould take him to the place where he should wait for the day of his\ndeath; and how he landed on that rock, and thrust the boat off with his\nfoot, and it went swiftly back to its own land; and how, on the very\nfirst day, a beast came to him, walking on its hind paws, and between its\nfore paws a fish, and grass to make a fire, and laid them at his feet;\nand so every third day for twenty years; and every Lord\u2019s day a little\nwater came out of the rock, so that he could drink and wash his hands;\nand how after thirty years he had found these caves and that fountain,\nand had fed for the last sixty years on nought but the water thereof.\nFor all the years of his life were 150, and henceforth he awaited the day\nof his judgment in that his flesh.\n\nThen they took of that water, and received his blessing, and kissed each\nother in the peace of Christ, and sailed southward: but their food was\nthe water from the isle of the man of God.  Then (as Paul the Hermit had\nforetold) they came back on Easter Eve to the Isle of Sheep, and to him\nwho used to give them victuals; and then went on to the fish Jasconius,\nand sang praises on his back all night, and mass at morn.  After which\nthe fish carried them on his back to the Paradise of Birds, and there\nthey stayed till Pentecost.  Then the man who always tended them, bade\nthem fill their skins from the fountain, and he would lead them to the\nland promised to the saints.  And all the birds wished them a prosperous\nvoyage in God\u2019s name; and they sailed away, with forty days\u2019 provision,\nthe man being their guide, till after forty days they came at evening to\na great darkness which lay round the Promised Land.  But after they had\nsailed through it for an hour, a great light shone round them, and the\nboat stopped at a shore.  And when they landed they saw a spacious land,\nfull of trees bearing fruit as in autumn time.  And they walked about\nthat land for forty days, eating of the fruit and drinking of the\nfountains, and found no end thereof.  And there was no night there, but\nthe light shone like the light of the sun.  At last they came to a great\nriver, which they could not cross, so that they could not find out the\nextent of that land.  And as they were pondering over this, a youth, with\nshining face and fair to look upon, met them, and kissed them with great\njoy, calling them each by his name, and said, \u201cBrethren, peace be with\nyou, and with all that follow the peace of Christ.\u201d  And after that,\n\u201cBlessed are they who dwell in thy house, O Lord; they shall be for ever\npraising thee.\u201d\n\nThen he told St. Brendan that that was the land which he had been seeking\nfor seven years, and that he must now return to his own country, taking\nof the fruits of that land, and of its precious gems, as much as his ship\ncould carry; for the days of his departure were at hand, when he should\nsleep in peace with his holy brethren.  But after many days that land\nshould be revealed to his successors, and should be a refuge for\nChristians in persecution.  As for the river that they saw, it parted\nthat island; and the light shone there for ever, because Christ was the\nlight thereof.\n\nThen St. Brendan asked if that land would ever be revealed to men: and\nthe youth answered, that when the most high Creator should have put all\nnations under his feet, then that land should be manifested to all his\nelect.\n\nAfter which St. Brendan, when the youth had blessed him, took of the\nfruits and of the gems, and sailed back through the darkness, and\nreturned to his monastery; whom when the brethren saw, they glorified God\nfor the miracles which he had heard and seen.  After which he ended his\nlife in peace.  Amen.\n\nHere ends (says the French version) concerning St. Brendan, and the\nmarvels which he found in the sea of Ireland.\n\n\n\n\nST. MALO\n\n\nINTERMINGLED, fantastically and inconsistently, with the story of St.\nBrendan, is that of St. Maclovius or Machutus, who has given his name to\nthe seaport of St. Malo, in Brittany.  His life, written by Sigebert, a\nmonk of Gembloux, about the year 1100, tells us how he was a Breton, who\nsailed with St. Brendan in search of the fairest of all islands, in which\nthe citizens of heaven were said to dwell.  With St. Brendan St. Malo\ncelebrated Easter on the whale\u2019s back, and with St. Brendan he returned.\nBut another old hagiographer, Johannes \u00e0 Bosco, tells a different story,\nmaking St. Malo an Irishman brought up by St. Brendan, and preserved by\nhis prayers from a wave of the sea.  He gives, moreover, to the Isle of\nParadise the name of Inga, and says that St. Brendan and his companions\nnever reached it after all, but came home after sailing round the Orkneys\nand other Northern isles.  The fact is, that the same saints reappear so\noften on both sides of the British and the Irish Channels, that we must\ntake the existence of many of them as mere legend, which has been carried\nfrom land to land by monks in their migrations, and taken root upon each\nfresh soil which it has reached.  One incident in St. Malo\u2019s voyage is so\nfantastic, and so grand likewise, that it must not be omitted.  The monks\ncome to an island whereon they find the barrow of some giant of old time.\nSt. Malo, seized with pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the\nmound and raises the dead to life.  Then follows a strange conversation\nbetween the giant and the saint.  He was slain, he says, by his kinsmen,\nand ever since has been tormented in the other world.  In that nether pit\nthey know (he says) of the Holy Trinity: but that knowledge is rather\nharm than gain to them, because they did not choose to know it when alive\non earth.  Therefore he begs to be baptized, and so delivered from his\npain.  He is therefore instructed, catechised, and in due time baptized,\nand admitted to the Holy Communion.  For fifteen days more he remains\nalive: and then, dying once more, is again placed in his sepulchre, and\nleft in peace.\n\nFrom fragmentary recollections of such tales as these (it may be observed\nin passing) may have sprung the strange fancy of the modern Cornishmen,\nwhich identifies these very Celtic saints of their own race with the\ngiants who, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, inhabited the land before\nBrutus and his Trojans founded the Arthuric dynasty.  St. Just, for\ninstance, who is one of the guardian saints of the Land\u2019s End, and St.\nKevern, one of the guardian saints of the Lizard, are both giants; and\nCornishmen a few years since would tell how St. Just came from his\nhermitage by Cape Cornwall to visit St. Kevern in his cave on the east\nside of Goonhilly Downs; and how they took the Holy Communion together;\nand how St. Just, tempted by the beauty of St. Kevern\u2019s paten and\nchalice, arose in the night and fled away with the holy vessels, wading\nfirst the Looe Pool, and then Mount\u2019s Bay itself; and how St. Kevern\npursued him, and hurled after him three great boulders of porphyry, two\nof which lie on the slates and granites to this day; till St. Just,\nterrified at the might of his saintly brother, tossed the stolen vessels\nashore opposite St. Michael\u2019s Mount, and, fleeing back to his own\nhermitage, never appeared again in the neighbourhood of St. Kevern.\n\nBut to return.  St. Malo, coming home with St. Brendan, craves for peace,\nand solitude, and the hermit\u2019s cell, and goes down to the sea-shore, to\nfind a vessel which may carry him out once more into the infinite\nunknown.  Then there comes by a boat with no one in it but a little boy,\nwho takes him on board, and carries him to the isle of the hermit Aaron,\nnear the town of Aletha, which men call St. Malo now; and then the little\nboy vanishes away, and St. Malo knows that he was Christ himself.  There\nhe lives with Aaron, till the Bretons of the neighbourhood make him their\nbishop.  He converts the idolaters around, and performs the usual\nmiracles of hermit saints.  He changes water into wine, and restores to\nlife not only a dead man, but a dead sow likewise, over whose motherless\nlitter a wretched slave, who has by accident killed the sow with a stone,\nis weeping and wringing his hands in dread of his master\u2019s fury.  While\nSt. Malo is pruning vines, he lays his cape upon the ground, and a\nredbreast comes and lays an egg on it.  He leaves it there, for the\nbird\u2019s sake, till the young are hatched, knowing, says his biographer,\nthat without God the Father not a sparrow falls to the ground.  Hailoch,\nthe prince of Brittany, destroys his church, and is struck blind.\nRestored to sight by the saint, he bestows large lands on the Church.\n\u201cThe impious generation,\u201d who, with their children after them, have lost\ntheir property by Hailoch\u2019s gift, rise against St. Malo.  They steal his\nhorses, and in mockery leave him only a mare.  They beat his baker, tie\nhis feet under the horse\u2019s body, and leave him on the sand to be drowned\nby the rising tide.  The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, and the baker\nis saved.\n\nSt. Malo, weary of the wicked Bretons, flees to Saintonge in Aquitaine,\nwhere he performs yet more miracles.  Meanwhile, a dire famine falls on\nthe Bretons, and a thousand horrible diseases.  Penitent, they send for\nSt. Malo, who delivers them and their flocks.  But, at the command of an\nangel, he returns to Saintonge and dies there, and Saintonge has his\nrelics, and the innumerable miracles which they work, even to the days of\nSigebert, of Gembloux.\n\n\n\n\nST. COLUMBA\n\n\nTHE famous St. Columba cannot perhaps be numbered among the hermits: but\nas the spiritual father of many hermits, as well as many monks, and as\none whose influence upon the Christianity of these islands is notorious\nand extensive, he must needs have some notice in these pages.  Those who\nwish to study his life and works at length will of course read Dr.\nReeves\u2019s invaluable edition of Adamnan.  The more general reader will\nfind all that he need know in Mr. Hill Burton\u2019s excellent \u201cHistory of\nScotland,\u201d chapters vii. and viii.; and also in Mr. Maclear\u2019s \u201cHistory of\nChristian Missions during the Middle Ages\u201d\u2014a book which should be in\nevery Sunday library.\n\nSt. Columba, like St. David and St. Cadoc of Wales, and like many great\nIrish saints, is a prince and a statesman as well as a monk.  He is mixed\nup in quarrels between rival tribes.  He is concerned, according to\nantiquaries, in three great battles, one of which sprang, according to\nsome, from Columba\u2019s own misdeeds.  He copies by stealth the Psalter of\nSt. Finnian.  St. Finnian demands the copy, saying it was his as much as\nthe original.  The matter is referred to King Dermod, who pronounces, in\nhigh court at Tara, the famous decision which has become a proverb in\nIreland, that \u201cto every cow belongs her own calf.\u201d {283}  St. Columba,\nwho does not seem at this time to have possessed the dove-like temper\nwhich his name, according to his disciples, indicates, threatens to\navenge upon the king his unjust decision.  The son of the king\u2019s steward\nand the son of the King of Connaught, a hostage at Dermod\u2019s court, are\nplaying hurley on the green before Dermod\u2019s palace.  The young prince\nstrikes the other boy, kills him, and flies for protection to Columba.\nHe is nevertheless dragged away, and slain upon the spot.  Columba leaves\nthe palace in a rage, goes to his native mountains of Donegal, and\nreturns at the head of an army of northern and western Irish to fight the\ngreat battle of Cooldrevny in Sligo.  But after a while public opinion\nturns against him; and at the Synod of Teltown, in Meath, it is\nproclaimed that Columba, the man of blood, shall quit Ireland, and win\nfor Christ out of heathendom as many souls as have perished in that great\nfight.  Then Columba, with twelve comrades, sails in a coracle for the\ncoast of Argyleshire; and on the eve of Pentecost, A.D. 563, lands upon\nthat island which, it may be, will be famous to all times as Iona, Hy, or\nIcolumkill,\u2014Hy of Columb of the Cells.\n\nThus had Columba, if the tale be true, undertaken a noble penance; and he\nperformed it like a noble man.  If, according to the fashion of those\ntimes, he bewailed his sins with tears, he was no morbid or selfish\nrecluse, but a man of practical power, and of wide humanity.  Like one of\nHomer\u2019s old heroes, St. Columba could turn his hand to every kind of\nwork.  He could turn the hand-mill, work on the farm, heal the sick, and\ncommand as a practised sailor the little fleet of coracles which lay\nhauled up on the strand of Iona, ready to carry him and his monks on\ntheir missionary voyages to the mainland or the isles.  Tall, powerful,\nhandsome, with a face which, as Adamnan said, made all who saw him glad,\nand a voice so stentorian that it could be heard at times a full mile\noff, and coming too of royal race, it is no wonder if he was regarded as\na sort of demigod, not only by his own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs\nto whom he preached the Cross.  We hear of him at Craig Phadrick, near\nInverness; at Skye, at Tiree, and other islands; we hear of him receiving\nvisits from his old monks of Derry and Durrow; returning to Ireland to\ndecide between rival chiefs; and at last dying at the age of\nseventy-seven, kneeling before the altar in his little chapel of Iona\u2014a\ndeath as beautiful as had been the last thirty-four years of his life;\nand leaving behind him disciples destined to spread the light of\nChristianity over the whole of Scotland and the northern parts of\nEngland.\n\nSt. Columba, at one period or other of his life, is said to have visited\na missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in Scotland as St.\nKentigern, or more commonly St. Mungo, the patron saint of Glasgow.  The\ntwo men, it is said (but the story belongs to the twelfth century, and\ncan hardly be depended on), exchanged their crooked staves or crosiers in\ntoken of Christian brotherhood, and that which St. Columba is said to\nhave given to St. Kentigern was preserved in Ripon Cathedral to the\nbeginning of the fifteenth century.  But who St. Kentigern was, or what\nhe really did, is hard to say; for all his legends, like most of these\nearly ones, are as tangled as a dream.  He dies in the year 601: and yet\nhe is the disciple of the famous St. Servanus or St. Serf, who lived in\nthe times of St. Palladius and St. Patrick, 180 years before.  This St.\nSerf is a hermit of the true old type; and even if his story be, as Dr.\nReeves thinks, a fabrication throughout, it is at least a very early one,\nand true to the ideal which had originated with St. Antony.  He is\nbrought up in a monastery at Culross: he is tempted by the devil in a\ncave in the parish of Dysart (the Desert), in Fifeshire, which still\nretains that name.  The d\u00e6mon, fleeing from him, enters an unfortunate\nman, who is forthwith plagued with a wolfish appetite.  St. Serf cures\nhim by putting his thumb into his mouth.  A man is accused of stealing\nand eating a lamb, and denies the theft.  St. Serf, however, makes the\nlamb bleat in the robber\u2019s stomach, and so substantiates the charge\nbeyond all doubt.  He works other wonders; among them the slaying of a\ngreat dragon in the place called \u201cDunyne;\u201d sails for the Orkneys, and\nconverts the people there; and vanishes thenceforth into the dream-land\nfrom which he sprung.\n\nTwo great disciples he has, St. Ternan and St. Kentigern; mystery and\nmiracle hang round the boyhood of the latter.  His father is unknown.\nHis mother is condemned to be cast from the rock of \u201cDunpelder,\u201d but is\nsaved and absolved by a miracle.  Before the eyes of the astonished\nPicts, she floats gently down through the air, and arrives at the cliff\nfoot unhurt.  St. Kentigern is thenceforth believed to be virgin-born,\nand is reverenced as a miraculous being from his infancy.  He goes to\nschool to the mythic St. Serf, who calls him Mungo, or the Beloved; which\nname he bears in Glasgow until this day.  His fellow-scholars envy his\nvirtue and learning, and try to ruin him with their master.  St. Serf has\na pet robin, which is wont to sit and sing upon his shoulder.  The boys\npull off its head, and lay the blame upon Kentigern.  The saint comes in\nwrathful, tawse in hand, and Kentigern is for the moment in serious\ndanger; but, equal to the occasion then as afterwards, he puts the\nrobin\u2019s head on again, sets it singing, and amply vindicates his\ninnocence.  To this day the robin figures in the arms of the good city of\nGlasgow, with the tree which St. Kentigern, when his enemies had put out\nhis fire, brought in from the frozen forest and lighted with his breath,\nand the salmon in whose mouth a ring which had been cast into the Clyde\nhad been found again by St. Kentigern\u2019s prophetic spirit.\n\nThe envy of his fellow-scholars, however, is too much for St. Kentigern\u2019s\npeace of mind.  He wanders away to the spot where Glasgow city now\nstands, lives in a rock hollowed out into a tomb, is ordained by an Irish\nbishop (according to a Celtic custom, of which antiquaries have written\nlearnedly and dubiously likewise), and has ecclesiastical authority over\nall the Picts from the Frith of Forth to the Roman Wall.  But all these\nstories, as I said before, are tangled as a dream; for the twelfth\ncentury monks, in their loyal devotion to the see of Rome, are apt to\nintroduce again and again ecclesiastical customs which belonged to their\nown time, and try to represent these prim\u00e6val saints as regular and\nwell-disciplined servants of the Pope.\n\nIt may be remarked that St. Serf is said to have come into a \u201cdysart\u201d or\ndesert.  So did many monks of the school of St. Columba and his\ndisciples, who wished for a severer and a more meditative life than could\nbe found in the busy society of a convent.  \u201cThere was a \u2018disert,\u2019\u201d says\nDr. Reeves, \u201cfor such men to retire to, besides the monastery of Derry,\nand another at Iona itself, situate near the shore in the low ground,\nnorth of the Cathedral, as may be inferred from Portandisiart, the name\nof a little bay in this situation.\u201d  A similar \u201cdisert\u201d or collection of\nhermit cells was endowed at Cashel in 1101; and a \u201cdisert columkill,\u201d\nwith two townland mills and a vegetable garden, was endowed at Kells, at\na somewhat earlier period, for the use of \u201cdevout pilgrims,\u201d as those\nwere called who left the society of men to worship God in solitude.\n\nThe Venerable Bede speaks of as many as three personages, Saxons by their\nnames, who in the Isle of Ireland led the \u201cPilgrim\u201d or anchoritic life,\nto obtain a country in heaven; and tells of a Drycthelm of the monastery\nat Melrose, who went into a secret dwelling therein to give himself more\nutterly to prayer, and who used to stand for hours in the cold waters of\nthe Tweed, as St. Godric did centuries afterwards in those of the Wear.\nSolitaries, \u201crecluses,\u201d are met with again and again in these old\nrecords, who more than once became Abbots of Iona itself.  But there is\nno need to linger on over instances which are only quoted to show that\nsome of the noblest spirits of the Celtic Church kept up wherever they\ncould the hermit\u2019s ideal, the longing for solitude, for passive\ncontemplation, for silence and perpetual prayer, which they had inherited\nfrom St. Antony and the Fathers of the Egyptian Desert.\n\nThe same ideal was carried by them over the Border into England.  Off its\nextreme northern coast, for instance, nearly half-way between Berwick and\nBamborough Castle, lies, as travellers northward may have seen for\nthemselves, the \u201cHoly Island,\u201d called in old times Lindisfarne.  A monk\u2019s\nchapel on that island was the mother of all the churches between Tyne and\nTweed, as well as of many between Tyne and Humber.  The Northumbrians had\nbeen nominally converted, according to Bede, A.D. 627, under their King\nEdwin, by Paulinus, one of the Roman monks who had followed in the steps\nof St. Augustine, the apostle of Kent.  Evil times had fallen on them.\nPenda, at the head of the idolatrous Mercians (the people of\nMid-England), and Ceadwalla, at the head of the Western Britons, had\nravaged the country north of Tweed with savage cruelty, slain King Edwin,\nat Hatfield, near Doncaster, and exterminated Christianity; while\nPaulinus had fled to Kent, and become Bishop of Rochester.  The invaders\nhad been driven out, seemingly by Oswald, who knew enough of Christianity\nto set up, ere he engaged the enemy, a cross of wood on the\n\u201cHeavenfield,\u201d near Hexham.  That cross stood till the time of Bede, some\n150 years after; and had become, like Moses\u2019 brazen serpent, an object of\nveneration.  For if chips cut off from it were put into water, that water\ncured men or cattle of their diseases.\n\nOswald, believing that it was through the mercy of him whom that cross\nsymbolized he had conquered the Mercians and the Britons, would needs\nreconvert his people to the true faith.  He had been in exile during\nEdwin\u2019s lifetime among the Scots, and had learned from them something of\nChristianity.  So out of Iona a monk was sent to him, Aidan by name, to\nbe a bishop over the Northumbrians; and he settled himself upon the isle\nof Lindisfarne, and began to convert it into another Iona.  \u201cA man he\nwas,\u201d says Bede, \u201cof singular sweetness, piety, and moderation; zealous\nin the cause of God, though not altogether according to knowledge, for he\nwas wont to keep Easter after the fashion of his country;\u201d _i.e._ of the\nPicts and Northern Scots. . . . \u201cFrom that time forth many Scots came\ndaily into Britain, and with great devotion preached the word to these\nprovinces of the English over whom King Oswald reigned. . . .  Churches\nwere built, money and lands were given of the king\u2019s bounty to build\nmonasteries; the English, great and small, were by their Scottish masters\ninstructed in the rules and observance of regular discipline; for most of\nthose who came to preach were monks.\u201d {290}\n\nSo says the Venerable Bede, the monk of Jarrow, and the father (as he has\nbeen well called) of English history.  He tells us too, how Aidan,\nwishing, it may be supposed, for greater solitude, went away and lived on\nthe rocky isle of Farne, some two miles out at sea, off Bamborough\nCastle; and how, when he saw Penda and his Mercians, in a second invasion\nof Northumbria, trying to burn down the walls of Bamborough\u2014which were\nprobably mere stockades of timber\u2014he cried to God, from off his rock, to\n\u201cbehold the mischief:\u201d whereon the wind changed suddenly, and blew the\nflames back on the besiegers, discomfiting them, and saving the town.\n\nBede tells us, too, how Aidan wandered, preaching from place to place,\nhaunting King Oswald\u2019s court, but owning nothing of his own save his\nchurch, and a few fields about it; and how, when death came upon him,\nthey set up a tent for him close by the wall at the west end of the\nchurch, so that it befell that he gave up the ghost leaning against a\npost, which stood outside to strengthen the wall.\n\nA few years after, Penda came again and burned the village, with the\nchurch; and yet neither could that fire, nor one which happened soon\nafter, destroy that post.  Wherefore the post was put inside the church,\nas a holy thing, and chips of it, like those of the Cross of Heaven\nField, healed many folk of their distempers.\n\n. . . A tale at which we may look in two different humours.  We may pass\nit by with a sneer, and a hypothesis (which will be probably true) that\nthe post was of old heart-of-oak, which is burnt with extreme difficulty;\nor we may pause a moment in reverence before the noble figure of the good\nold man, ending a life of unselfish toil without a roof beneath which to\nlay his head; penniless and comfortless in this world: but sure of his\nreward in the world to come.\n\nA few years after Aidan\u2019s death another hermit betook him to the rocks of\nFarne, who rose to far higher glory; who became, in fact, the tutelar\nsaint of the fierce Northern men; who was to them, up to the time even of\nthe Tudor monarchs, what Pallas Athene was to Athens, or Diana to the\nEphesians.  St. Cuthbert\u2019s shrine, in Durham Cathedral (where his\nbiographer Bede also lay in honour), was their rallying point, not merely\nfor ecclesiastical jurisdiction or for miraculous cures, but for\npolitical movements.  Above his shrine rose the noble pile of Durham.\nThe bishop, who ruled in his name, was a Count Palatine, and an almost\nindependent prince.  His sacred banner went out to battle before the\nNorthern levies, or drove back again and again the flames which consumed\nthe wooden houses of Durham.  His relics wrought innumerable miracles;\nand often he himself appeared with long countenance, ripened by\nabstinence, his head sprinkled with grey hairs, his casule of cloth of\ngold, his mitre of glittering crystal, his face brighter than the sun,\nhis eyes mild as the stars of heaven, the gems upon his hand and robes\nrattling against his pastoral staff beset with pearls. {292}  Thus\nglorious the demigod of the Northern men appeared to his votaries, and\nsteered with his pastoral staff, as with a rudder, the sinking ship in\nsafety to Lindisfarne; received from the hands of St. Brendan, as from a\nsaint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman, laden with fetters, whom\nhe had delivered out of the dungeon of Brancepeth, and, smiting asunder\nthe massive Norman walls, led him into the forest, and bade him flee to\nsanctuary in Durham, and be safe; or visited the little timber vine-clad\nchapel of Lixtune, on the Cheshire shore, to heal the sick who watched\nall night before his altar, or to forgive the lad who had robbed the nest\nwhich his sacred raven had built upon the roof, and, falling with the\ndecayed timber, had broken his bones, and maimed his sacrilegious hand.\n\nOriginally, says Bede, a monk at Melrose, and afterward abbot of the same\nplace, he used to wander weeks together out of his monastery, seemingly\ninto Ettrick and the Lammermuirs, and preach in such villages as \u201cbeing\nseated high up among craggy, uncouth mountains, were frightful to others\neven to look at, and whose poverty and barbarity rendered them\ninaccessible to other teachers.\u201d  \u201cSo skilful an orator was he, so fond\nof enforcing his subject, and such a brightness appeared in his angelic\nface, that no man presumed to conceal from him the most hidden secrets of\ntheir hearts, but all openly confessed what they had done.\u201d\n\nSo he laboured for many years, till his old abbot Eata, who had become\nbishop and abbot at Lindisfarne, sent for him thither, and made him prior\nof the monks for several years.  But at last he longed, like so many\nbefore him, for solitude.  He considered (so he said afterwards to the\nbrethren) that the life of the disciplined and obedient monk was higher\nthan that of the lonely and independent hermit: but yet he longed to be\nalone; longed, it may be, to recall at least upon some sea-girt rock\nthoughts which had come to him in those long wanderings on the heather\nmoors, with no sound to distract him save the hum of the bee and the wail\nof the curlew; and so he went away to that same rock of Farne, where\nAidan had taken refuge some ten or fifteen years before, and there, with\nthe deep sea rolling at his feet and the gulls wailing about his head, he\nbuilt himself one of those \u201cPicts\u2019 Houses,\u201d the walls of which remain\nstill in many parts of Scotland\u2014a circular hut of turf and rough\nstone\u2014and dug out the interior to a depth of some feet, and thatched it\nwith sticks and grass; and made, it seems, two rooms within; one for an\noratory, one for a dwelling-place: and so lived alone, and worshipped\nGod.  He grew his scanty crops of barley on the rock (men said, of\ncourse, by miracle): he had tried wheat, but, as was to be expected, it\nfailed.  He found (men said, of course, by miracle) a spring upon the\nrock.  Now and then brethren came to visit him.  And what did man need\nmore, save a clear conscience and the presence of his Creator?  Certainly\nnot Cuthbert.  When he asked the brethren to bring him a beam that he\nmight prop up his cabin where the sea had eaten out the floor, and when\nthey forgot the commission, the sea itself washed one up in the very cove\nwhere it was needed: when the choughs from the cliff stole his barley and\nthe straw from the roof of his little hospice, he had only to reprove\nthem, and they never offended again; on one occasion, indeed, they atoned\nfor their offence by bringing him a lump of suet, wherewith he greased\nhis shoes for many a day.  We are not bound to believe this story; it is\none of many which hang about the memory of St. Cuthbert, and which have\nsprung out of that love of the wild birds which may have grown up in the\ngood man during his long wanderings through woods and over moors.  He\nbequeathed (so it was believed) as a sacred legacy to the wild-fowl of\nthe Farne islands, \u201cSt. Cuthbert\u2019s peace;\u201d above all to the eider-ducks,\nwhich swarmed there in his days, but are now, alas! growing rarer and\nrarer, from the intrusion of vulgar sportsmen who never heard St.\nCuthbert\u2019s name, or learnt from him to spare God\u2019s creatures when they\nneed them not.  On Farne, in Reginald\u2019s time, they bred under your very\nbed, got out of your way if you made a sign to them, let you take up them\nor their young ones, and nestled silently in your bosom, and croaked\njoyfully with fluttering wings when stroked.  \u201cNot to nature, but to\ngrace; not to hereditary tendency, but only to the piety and compassion\nof the blessed St. Cuthbert,\u201d says Reginald, \u201cis so great a miracle to be\nascribed.  For the Lord who made all things in heaven and earth has\nsubjected them to the nod of his saints, and prostrated them under the\nfeet of obedience.\u201d  Insufficient induction (the cause of endless\nmistakes, and therefore of endless follies and crimes) kept Reginald\nunaware of the now notorious fact that the female eider, during the\nbreeding season, is just as tame, allowing for a little exaggeration, as\nSt. Cuthbert\u2019s own ducks are, while the male eider is just as wild and\nwary as any other sea-bird: a mistake altogether excusable in one who had\nprobably never seen or heard of eider-ducks in any other spot.  It may\nbe, nevertheless, that St. Cuthbert\u2019s special affection for the eider may\nhave been called out by another strange and well-known fact about them of\nwhich Reginald oddly enough takes no note\u2014namely, that they line their\nnests with down plucked from their own bosom; thus realizing the fable\nwhich has made the pelican for so many centuries the type of the Church.\nIt is a question, indeed, whether the pelican, which is always\nrepresented in medi\u00e6val paintings and sculptures with a short bill,\ninstead of the enormous bill and pouch which is the especial mark of the\n\u201cOnocrotalus\u201d of the ancients, now miscalled pelican, be not actually the\neider-duck itself, confounded with the true _pelecanus_, which was the\nmedi\u00e6val, and is still the scientific, name of the cormorant.  Be that as\nit may, ill befell any one who dare touch one of St. Cuthbert\u2019s birds, as\nwas proved in the case of Liveing, servant to \u00c6lric, who was a hermit in\nFarne after the time of St. Cuthbert.  For he, tired it may be of barley\nand dried fish, killed and ate an eider-duck in his master\u2019s absence,\nscattering the bones and feathers over the cliffs.  But when the hermit\ncame back, what should he find but those same bones and feathers rolled\ninto a lump and laid inside the door of the little chapel; the very sea,\nsays Reginald, not having dared to swallow them up.  Whereby the hapless\nLiveing being betrayed, was soundly flogged, and put on bread and water\nfor many a day; the which story Liveing himself told to Reginald.\n\nNot only the eider, but all birds in Farne, were protected by St.\nCuthbert\u2019s peace.  Bartholomew, who was a famous hermit there in after\nyears, had a tame bird, says the chronicler, who ate from his hand, and\nhopped about the table among him and his guests, till some thought it a\nmiracle; and some, finding, no doubt, the rocks of Farne weary enough,\nderived continual amusement from the bird.  But when he one day went off\nto another island, and left his bird to keep the house, a hawk came in\nand ate it up.  Cuthbert, who could not save the bird, at least could\npunish the murderer.  The hawk flew round and round the island,\nimprisoned, so it was thought, by some mysterious power, till, terrified\nand worn out, it flew into the chapel, and lay, cowering and half dead,\nin a corner by the altar.  Bartholomew came back, found his bird\u2019s\nfeathers, and the tired hawk.  But even the hawk must profit by St.\nCuthbert\u2019s peace.  He took it up, carried it to the harbour, and there\nbade it depart in St. Cuthbert\u2019s name, whereon it flew off free, and was\nno more seen.  Such tales as these may be explained, even to their most\nminute details, by simply natural causes: and yet, in this age of wanton\ndestruction of wild birds, one is tempted at moments to wish for the\nreturn of some such graceful and humane superstition which could keep\ndown, at least in the name of mercy and humanity, the needless cruelty of\nman.\n\nBut to return.  After St. Cuthbert, says Bede, had served God in the\nsolitude of Farne for many years, the mound which encompassed his\nhabitation being so high that he could see nothing from thence but\nheaven, to which he so ardently aspired, he was compelled by tears and\nentreaties\u2014King Egfrid himself coming to the island, with bishops and\nreligious and great men\u2014to become himself bishop in Holy Island.  There,\nas elsewhere, he did his duty.  But after two years he went again to\nFarne, knowing that his end was near.  For when, in his episcopal\nlabours, he had gone across to Lugubalia\u2014old Penrith, in Cumberland\u2014there\ncame across to him a holy hermit, Herebert by name, who dwelt upon an\nisland in Derwentwater, and talked with him a long while on heavenly\nthings; and Cuthbert bade him ask him then all the questions which he\nwished to have resolved, for they should see each other no more in this\nworld.  Herebert, who seems to have been one of his old friends, fell at\nCuthbert\u2019s feet, and bade him remember that whenever he had done wrong he\nhad submitted himself to him utterly, and always tried to live according\nto his rules; and all he wished for now was that, as they had served God\ntogether upon earth, they might depart for ever to see his bliss in\nheaven: the which befell; for a few months afterwards, that is, on the\n20th of March, their souls quitted their mortal bodies on the same day,\nand they were re-united in spirit.\n\nSt. Cuthbert wished to have been buried on his rock in Farne: but the\nbrethren had persuaded him to allow his corpse to be removed to Holy\nIsland.  He begged them, said Bede, should they be forced to leave that\nplace, to carry his bones along with them; and so they were forced to do\nat last; for in the year 875; whilst the Danes were struggling with\nAlfred in Wessex, an army of them, with Halfdene at their head, went up\ninto Northumbria, burning towns, destroying churches, tossing children on\ntheir pike-points, and committing all those horrors which made the\nNorsemen terrible and infamous for so many years.  Then the monks fled\nfrom the monastery, bearing the shrine of St. Cuthbert, and all their\ntreasures, and followed by their retainers, men, women, and children, and\ntheir sheep and oxen: and behold! the hour of their flight was that of an\nexceedingly high spring tide.  The Danes were landing from their ships in\ntheir rear; in their front was some two miles of sea.  Escape seemed\nhopeless; when, says the legend, the water retreated before the holy\nrelics as they advanced; and became, as to the children of Israel of old,\na wall on their right hand and on their left; and so St. Cuthbert came\nsafe to shore, and wandered in the woods, borne upon his servants\u2019\nshoulders, and dwelling in tents for seven years, and found rest at last\nin Durham, till at the Reformation his shrine, and that of the Venerable\nBede, were robbed of their gold and jewels; and no trace of them (as far\nas I know) is left, save that huge slab, whereon is written the monkish\nrhyme:\u2014\n\n    Hic jacet in foss\u00e2\n    Bed\u00e6 Venerabilis ossa. {299}\n\n\n\n\nST. GUTHLAC\n\n\nHERMITS dwelling in the wilderness, as far as I am aware, were to be seen\nonly in the northern and western parts of the island, where not only did\nthe forest afford concealment, but the crags and caves shelter.  The\nsouthern and eastern English seldom possess the vivid imagination of the\nBriton, the Northumbrian, and the Scot; while the rich lowlands of\ncentral, southern, and eastern England, well peopled and well tilled,\noffered few spots lonely enough for the hermit\u2019s cell.\n\nOne district only was desolate enough to attract those who wished to be\nfree from the world,\u2014namely, the great fens north of Cambridge; and\nthere, accordingly, as early as the seventh century, hermits settled in\nmorasses now so utterly transformed that it is difficult to restore in\none\u2019s imagination the original scenery.\n\nThe fens in the seventh century were probably very like the forests at\nthe mouth of the Mississippi, or the swampy shores of the Carolinas.\nTheir vast plain is now, in summer, one sea of golden corn; in winter, a\nblack dreary fallow, cut into squares by stagnant dykes, and broken only\nby unsightly pumping mills and doleful lines of poplar-trees.  Of old it\nwas a labyrinth of black wandering streams; broad lagoons; morasses\nsubmerged every spring-tide; vast beds of reed and sedge and fern; vast\ncopses of willow, alder, and grey poplar, rooted in the floating peat,\nwhich was swallowing up slowly, all-devouring, yet all-preserving, the\nforests of fir and oak, ash and poplar, hazel and yew, which had once\ngrown on that low, rank soil, sinking slowly (so geologists assure us)\nbeneath the sea from age to age.  Trees, torn down by flood and storm,\nfloated and lodged in rafts, damming the waters back upon the land.\nStreams, bewildered in the flats, changed their channels, mingling silt\nand sand with the peat moss.  Nature, left to herself, ran into wild riot\nand chaos more and more, till the whole fen became one \u201cDismal Swamp,\u201d in\nwhich, at the time of the Norman Conquest, the \u201cLast of the English,\u201d\nlike Dred in Mrs. Stowe\u2019s tale, took refuge from their tyrants, and\nlived, like him, a free and joyous life awhile.\n\nFor there are islands in the sea which have escaped the destroying deluge\nof peat-moss,\u2014outcrops of firm and fertile land, which in the early\nMiddle Age were so many natural parks, covered with richest grass and\nstateliest trees, swarming with deer and roe, goat and boar, as the\nstreams around swarmed with otter and beaver, and with fowl of every\nfeather, and fish of every scale.\n\nBeautiful after their kind were those far isles in the eyes of the monks\nwho were the first settlers in the wilderness.  The author of the\n\u201cHistory of Ramsey\u201d grows enthusiastic, and somewhat bombastic also, as\nhe describes the lovely isle, which got its name from the solitary ram\nwho had wandered thither, either in extreme drought or over the winter\nice, and, never able to return, was found feeding among the wild deer,\nfat beyond the wont of rams.  He tells of the stately ashes, most of them\ncut in his time, to furnish mighty beams for the church roof; of the rich\npastures painted with all gay flowers in spring; of the \u201cgreen crown\u201d of\nreed and alder which encircled the isle; of the fair wide mere (now\ndrained) with its \u201csandy beach\u201d along the forest side; \u201ca delight,\u201d he\nsays, \u201cto all who look thereon.\u201d\n\nIn like humour William of Malmesbury, writing in the first half of the\ntwelfth century, speaks of Thorney Abbey and its isle.  \u201cIt represents,\u201d\nsays he, \u201ca very paradise; for that in pleasure and delight it resembles\nheaven itself.  These marshes abound in trees, whose length, without a\nknot, doth emulate the stars.  The plain there is as level as the sea,\nalluring the eye with its green grass, and so smooth that there is nought\nto trip the foot of him who runs through it.  Neither is there any waste\nplace; for in some parts are apples, in others vines, which are either\nspread on the ground, or raised on poles.  A mutual strife there is\nbetween Nature and Art; so that what one produces not the other supplies.\nWhat shall I say of those fair buildings, which \u2019tis so wonderful to see\nthe ground among those fens upbear?\u201d\n\nSo wrote William of Malmesbury, after the industry and wisdom of the\nmonks, for more than four centuries, had been at work to civilize and\ncultivate the wilderness.  Yet even then there was another side to the\npicture; and Thorney, Ramsey, or Crowland would have seemed, for nine\nmonths every year, sad places enough to us comfortable folk of the\nnineteenth century.  But men lived hard in those days, even the most\nhigh-born and luxurious nobles and ladies; under dark skies, in houses\nwhich we should think, from darkness, draught, and want of space, unfit\nfor felons\u2019 cells.  Hardly they lived; and easily were they pleased; and\nthanked God for the least gleam of sunshine, the least patch of green,\nafter the terrible and long winters of the Middle Ages.  And ugly enough\nthose winters must have been, what with snow and darkness, flood and ice,\nague and rheumatism; while through the dreary winter\u2019s night the whistle\nof the wind and the wild cries of the waterfowl were translated into the\nhowls of witches and d\u00e6mons; and (as in St. Guthlac\u2019s case), the\ndelirious fancies of marsh fever made those fiends take hideous shapes\nbefore the inner eye, and act fantastic horrors round the fen-man\u2019s bed\nof sedge.\n\nConcerning this St. Guthlac full details remain, both in Latin and\nAnglo-Saxon; the author of the original document professing to be one\nFelix, a monk of Ramsey near by, who wrote possibly as early as the\neighth century. {303}\n\nThere we may read how the young warrior-noble Guthlac (\u201cThe Battle-Play,\u201d\nthe \u201cSport of War\u201d), tired of slaying and sinning, bethought him to\nfulfil the prodigies seen at his birth; how he wandered into the fen,\nwhere one Tatwin (who after became a saint likewise) took him in his\ncanoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost unknown, buried in reeds and\nalders, and how he found among the trees nought but an old \u201claw,\u201d as the\nScots still call a mound, which men of old had broken into seeking for\ntreasure, and a little pond; and how he built himself a hermit\u2019s cell\nthereon, and saw visions and wrought miracles; and how men came to him,\nas to a fakir or shaman of the East; notably one Beccel, who acted as his\nservant; and how as Beccel was shaving the saint one day there fell on\nhim a great temptation: Why should he not cut St. Guthlac\u2019s throat, and\ninstal himself in his cell, that he might have the honour and glory of\nsainthood?  But St. Guthlac perceived the inward temptation (which is\ntold with the na\u00efve honesty of those half-savage times), and rebuked the\noffender into confession, and all went well to the end.\n\nThere we may read, too, a detailed account of the Fauna now happily\nextinct in the fens; of the creatures who used to hale St. Guthlac out of\nhis hut, drag him through the bogs, carry him aloft through frost and\nfire\u2014\u201cDevelen and luther gostes\u201d\u2014such as tormented in like wise St.\nBotolph (from whom Botulfston = Boston, has its name), and who were\nsupposed to haunt the meres and fens, and to have an especial fondness\nfor old heathen barrows with their fancied treasure-hoards: how they\n\u201cfilled the house with their coming, and poured in on every side, from\nabove, and from beneath, and everywhere.  They were in countenance\nhorrible, and they had great heads, and a long neck, and a lean visage;\nthey were filthy and squalid in their beards, and they had rough ears,\nand crooked \u2018nebs,\u2019 and fierce eyes, and foul mouths; and their teeth\nwere like horses\u2019 tusks; and their throats were filled with flame, and\nthey were grating in their voice; they had crooked shanks, and knees big\nand great behind, and distorted toes, and cried hoarsely with their\nvoices; and they came with immoderate noise and immense horror, that he\nthought that all between, heaven and earth resounded with their voices. . . .\nAnd they tugged and led him out of the cot, and led him to the swart\nfen, and threw and sunk him in the muddy waters.  After that they brought\nhim into the wild places of the wilderness, among the thick beds of\nbrambles, that all his body was torn. . . .  After that they took him and\nbeat him with iron whips, and after that they brought him on their\ncreaking wings between the cold regions of the air.\u201d\n\nBut there are gentler and more human touches in that old legend.  You may\nread in it how all the wild birds of the fen came to St. Guthlac, and he\nfed them after their kind; how the ravens tormented him, stealing\nletters, gloves, and what not, from his visitors; and then, seized with\ncompunction at his reproofs, brought them back, or hanged them on the\nreeds; and how, as Wilfrid, a holy visitant, was sitting with him,\ndiscoursing of the contemplative life, two swallows came flying in, and\nlifted up their song, sitting now on the saint\u2019s hand, now on his\nshoulder, now on his knee; and how, when Wilfrid wondered thereat,\nGuthlac made answer, \u201cKnow you not that he who hath led his life\naccording to God\u2019s will, to him the wild beasts and the wild birds draw\nthe more near?\u201d\n\nAfter fifteen years of such a life, in fever, ague, and starvation, no\nwonder if St. Guthlac died.  They buried him in a leaden coffin (a grand\nand expensive luxury in the seventh century) which had been sent to him\nduring his life by a Saxon princess; and then, over his sacred and\nwonder-working corpse, as over that of a Buddhist saint, there arose a\nchapel, with a community of monks, companies of pilgrims who came to\nworship, sick who came to be healed; till at last, founded on great piles\ndriven into the bog, arose the lofty wooden Abbey of Crowland; in\n\u201csanctuary of the four rivers,\u201d with its dykes, parks, vineyards,\norchards, rich ploughlands, from which, in time of famine, the monks of\nCrowland fed all people of the neighbouring fens; with its tower with\nseven bells, which had not their like in England; its twelve altars rich\nwith the gifts of Danish vikings and princes, and even with twelve white\nbear-skins, the gift of Canute\u2019s self; while all around were the cottages\nof the corrodiers, or folk who, for a corrody, or life pittance from the\nabbey, had given away their lands, to the wrong and detriment of their\nheirs.\n\nBut within those four rivers, at least, were neither tyranny nor slavery.\nThose who took refuge in St. Guthlac\u2019s place from cruel lords must keep\nhis peace toward each other, and earn their living like honest men, safe\nwhile they so did: for between those four rivers St. Guthlac and his\nabbot were the only lords; and neither summoner, nor sheriff of the king,\nnor armed force of knight or earl, could enter\u2014\u201cthe inheritance of the\nLord, the soil of St. Mary and St. Bartholomew, the most holy sanctuary\nof St. Guthlac and his monks; the minister free from worldly servitude;\nthe special almshouse of most illustrious kings; the sole refuge of any\none in worldly tribulation; the perpetual abode of the saints; the\npossession of religious men, specially set apart by the common council of\nthe realm; by reason of the frequent miracles of the holy confessor St.\nGuthlac, an ever-fruitful mother of camphire in the vineyards of Engedi;\nand, by reason of the privileges granted by the kings, a city of grace\nand safety to all who repent.\u201d\n\nDoes not all this sound like a voice from another planet?  It is all\ngone; and it was good and right that it should go when it had done its\nwork, and that the civilization of the fen should be taken up and carried\nout by men like the good knight, Richard of Rulos, who, two generations\nafter the Conquest, marrying Hereward\u2019s grand-daughter, and becoming Lord\nof Deeping (the deep meadow), thought that he could do the same work from\nthe hall of Bourne as the monks did from their cloisters; got permission\nfrom the Crowland monks, for twenty marks of silver, to drain as much as\nhe could of the common marshes; and then shut out the Welland by strong\ndykes, built cottages, marked out gardens, and tilled fields, till \u201cout\nof slough and bogs accursed he made a garden of pleasure.\u201d\n\nYet one lasting work those monks of Crowland seem to have done, besides\nthose firm dykes and rich corn-lands of the Porsand, which endure unto\nthis day.  For within two generations of the Norman conquest, while the\nold wooden abbey, destroyed by fire, was being replaced by that noble\npile of stone whose ruins are still standing, the French abbot of\nCrowland (so runs the legend) sent French monks to open a school under\nthe new French donjon, in the little Roman town of Grante-brigge;\nwhereby\u2014so does all earnest work, however mistaken, grow and spread in\nthis world, infinitely and for ever\u2014St. Guthlac, by his canoe-voyage into\nCrowland Island, became the spiritual father of the University of\nCambridge in the old world; and therefore of her noble daughter, the\nUniversity of Cambridge, in the new world which fen-men sailing from\nBoston deeps colonized and Christianized 800 years after St. Guthlac\u2019s\ndeath.\n\n\n\n\nST. GODRIC OF FINCHALE\n\n\nA PERSONAGE quite as interesting, though not as famous, as Cuthbert or\nGuthlac, is St. Godric; the hermit around whose cell rose the Priory of\nFinchale.  In a loop of the river Wear, near Durham, there settled in the\ndays of Bishop Flambard, between 1099 and 1128, a man whose parentage and\nhistory was for many years unknown to the good folks of the\nneighbourhood.  He had come, it seems, from a hermitage in Eskdale, in\nthe parish of Whitby, whence he had been driven by the Percys, lords of\nthe soil.  He had gone to Durham, become the doorkeeper of St. Giles\u2019s\nchurch, and gradually learnt by heart (he was no scholar) the whole\nPsalter.  Then he had gone to St. Mary\u2019s church, where (as was the\nfashion of the times) there was a children\u2019s school; and, listening to\nthe little ones at their lessons, picked up such hymns and prayers as he\nthought would suffice his spiritual wants.  And then, by leave of the\nbishop, he had gone away into the woods, and devoted himself to the\nsolitary life in Finchale.  Buried in the woods and crags of the \u201cRoyal\nPark,\u201d as it was then called, which swarmed with every kind of game,\nthere was a little flat meadow, rough with sweet-gale and bramble and\nwillow, beside a teeming salmon-pool.  Great wolves haunted the woods;\nbut Godric cared nought for them; and the shingles swarmed with\nsnakes,\u2014probably only the harmless collared snakes of wet meadows, but\nreputed, as all snakes are by the vulgar, venomous: but he did not object\nto become \u201cthe companion of serpents and poisonous asps.\u201d  He handled\nthem, caressed them, let them lie by the fire in swarms on winter nights,\nin the little cave which he had hollowed in the ground and thatched with\nturf.  Men told soon how the snakes obeyed him; how two especially huge\nones used to lie twined about his legs; till after many years, annoyed by\ntheir importunity, he turned them all gently out of doors, with solemn\nadjurations never to return, and they, of course, obeyed.\n\nHis austerities knew no bounds.  He lived on roots and berries, flowers\nand leaves; and when the good folk found him out, and put gifts of food\nnear his cell, he carried them up to the crags above, and, offering them\nsolemnly up to the God who feeds the ravens when they call on him, left\nthem there for the wild birds.  He watched, fasted, and scourged himself,\nand wore always a hair shirt and an iron cuirass.  He sat, night after\nnight, even in mid-winter, in the cold Wear, the waters of which had\nhollowed out a rock near by into a natural bath, and afterwards in a\nbarrel sunk in the floor of a little chapel of wattle, which he built and\ndedicated to the blessed Virgin Mary.  He tilled a scrap of ground, and\nate the grain from it, mingled with ashes.  He kept his food till it was\ndecayed before he tasted it; and led a life the records of which fill the\nreader with astonishment, not only at the man\u2019s iron strength of will,\nbut at the iron strength of the constitution which could support such\nhardships, in such a climate, for a single year.\n\nA strong and healthy man must Godric have been, to judge from the\naccounts (there are two, both written by eye-witnesses) of his personal\nappearance\u2014a man of great breadth of chest and strength of arm;\nblack-haired, hook-nosed, deep-browed, with flashing grey eyes;\naltogether a personable and able man, who might have done much work and\nmade his way in many lands.  But what his former life had been he would\nnot tell.  Mother-wit he had in plenty, and showed insight into men and\nthings which the monks of Durham were ready enough to call the spirit of\nprophecy.  After awhile it was whispered that he wrought miraculous\ncures: that even a bit of the bread which he was wont to eat had healed a\nsick woman; that he fought with d\u00e6mons in visible shape; that he had seen\n(just as one of the old Egyptian hermits had seen) a little black boy\nrunning about between two monks who had quarrelled and come to hard blows\nand bleeding faces because one of them had made mistakes in the evening\nservice: and, in short, there were attributed to him, during his\nlifetime, and by those who knew him well, a host of wonders which would\nbe startling and important were they not exactly the same as those which\nappear in the life of every hermit since St. Antony.  It is impossible to\nread the pages of Reginald of Durham (for he, the biographer of St.\nCuthbert, is also the biographer of St. Godric) without feeling how\ndifficult it is to obtain anything like the truth, even from\neye-witnesses, if only men are (as they were in those days) in a state of\nreligious excitement, at a period of spiritual revivals.  The ignorant\npopulace were ready to believe, and to report, anything of the Fakeer of\nFinchale.  The monks of Durham were glad enough to have a wonder-working\nman belonging to them; for Ralph Flambard, in honour of Godric, had made\nover to them the hermitage of Finchale, with its fields and fisheries.\nThe lad who, in after years, waited on the hermit, would have been ready\nenough to testify that his master saw d\u00e6mons and other spiritual beings;\nfor he began to see them on his own account; {312} fell asleep in the\nforest coming home from Durham with some bottles; was led in a vision by\nSt. John the Baptist to the top of a hill, and shown by him wonders\nunspeakable; saw, on another occasion, a d\u00e6mon in St. Godric\u2019s cell, hung\nall over with bottles of different liquors, offering them to the saint,\nwho bade the lad drive him out of the little chapel, with a holy water\nsprinkle, but not go outside it himself.  But the lad, in the fury of\nsuccessful pursuit, overstepped the threshold; whereon the d\u00e6mon, turning\nin self-defence, threw a single drop of one of his liquors into the lad\u2019s\nmouth, and vanished with a laugh of scorn.  The boy\u2019s face and throat\nswelled horribly for three days; and he took care thenceforth to obey the\nholy man more strictly: a story which I have repeated, like the one\nbefore it, only to show the real worth of the evidence on which Reginald\nhas composed his book.  Ailred, Abbot of Rievaux (for Reginald\u2019s book,\nthough dedicated to Hugh Pudsey, his bishop, was prompted by Ailred) was\ncapable (as his horrible story of the nun of Watton proves) of believing\nanything and everything which fell in with his fanatical, though pious\nand gentle, temper.\n\nAnd here a few words must be said to persons with whose difficulties I\ndeeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions I differ utterly: those,\nnamely, who say that if we reject the miracles of these saints\u2019 lives, we\nmust reject also the miracles of the New Testament.  The answer is, as I\nbelieve, that the Apostles and Evangelists were sane men: men in their\nright minds, wise, calm; conducting themselves (save in the matter of\ncommitting sins) like other human beings, as befitted the disciples of\nthat Son of Man who came eating and drinking, and was therefore called by\nthe ascetics of his time a gluttonous man, and a wine-bibber: whereas\nthese monks were not (as I have said elsewhere) in their right minds at\nall.\n\nThis is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare the style of\nthe Apostles and Evangelists with that of the monkish hagiologists.  The\ncalm, the simplicity, the brevity, the true grandeur of the former is\nsufficient evidence of their healthy-mindedness and their\ntrustworthiness.  The affectation, the self-consciousness, the bombast,\nthe false grandeur of the latter is sufficient evidence that they are\nneither healthy-minded or trustworthy.  Let students compare any passage\nof St. Luke or St. John, however surprising the miracle which it relates,\nwith St. Jerome\u2019s life of Paul the First Hermit, or with that famous\nletter of his to Eustochium, which (although historically important) is\nunfit for the eyes of pure-minded readers and does not appear in this\nvolume; and let them judge for themselves.  Let them compare, again, the\nopening sentences of the Four Gospels, or of the Acts of the Apostles,\nwith the words with which Reginald begins this life of St. Godric.  \u201cBy\nthe touch of the Holy Spirit\u2019s finger the chord of the harmonic human\nheart resounds melodiously.  For when the vein of the heart is touched by\nthe grace of the Holy Spirit, forthwith, by the permirific sweetness of\nthe harmony, an exceeding operation of sacred virtue is perceived more\nmanifestly to spring forth.  With this sweetness of spirit, Godric, the\nman of God, was filled from the very time of his boyhood, and grew famous\nfor many admirable works of holy work (_sic_), because the harmonic\nteaching of the Holy Spirit fired the secrets of his very bosom with a\nwondrous contact of spiritual grace:\u201d\u2014and let them say, after the\ncomparison, if the difference between the two styles is not that which\nexists between one of God\u2019s lilies, fresh from the field, and a tawdry\nbunch of artificial flowers?\n\nBut to return.  Godric himself took part in the history of his own\nmiracles and life.  It may be that he so overworked his brain that he\nbelieved that he was visited by St. Peter, and taught a hymn by the\nblessed Virgin Mary, and that he had taken part in a hundred other\nprodigies; but the Prologue to the Harleian manuscript (which the learned\nEditor, Mr. Stevenson, believes to be an early edition of Reginald\u2019s own\ncomposition) confesses that Reginald, compelled by Ailred of Rievaux,\ntried in vain for a long while to get the hermit\u2019s story from him.\n\n\u201cYou wish to write my life?\u201d he said.  \u201cKnow then that Godric\u2019s life is\nsuch as this:\u2014Godric, at first a gross rustic, an unclean liver, an\nusurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a flatterer, a wanderer, pilfering and\ngreedy; now a dead flea, a decayed dog, a vile worm, not a hermit, but a\nhypocrite; not a solitary, but a gad-about in mind; a devourer of alms,\ndainty over good things, greedy and negligent, lazy and snoring,\nambitious and prodigal, one who is not worthy to serve others, and yet\nevery day beats and scolds those who serve him: this, and worse than\nthis, you may write of Godric.\u201d  \u201cThen he was silent as one indignant,\u201d\nsays Reginald, \u201cand I went off in some confusion,\u201d and the grand old man\nwas left to himself and to his God.\n\nThe ecclesiastical Boswell dared not mention the subject again to his\nhero for several years, though he came after from Durham to visit him,\nand celebrate mass for him in his little chapel.  After some years,\nhowever, he approached the matter again; and whether a pardonable vanity\nhad crept over Godric, or whether he had begun at last to believe in his\nmiracles, or whether the old man had that upon his mind of which he\nlonged to unburthen himself, he began to answer questions, and Reginald\ndelighted to listen and note down till he had finished, he says, that\nbook of his life and miracles; {316} and after a while brought it to the\nsaint, and falling on his knees, begged him to bless, in the name of God,\nand for the benefit of the faithful, the deeds of a certain religious\nman, who had suffered much for God in this life which he (Reginald) had\ncomposed accurately.  The old man perceived that he himself was the\nsubject, blessed the book with solemn words (what was written therein he\ndoes not seem to have read), and bade Reginald conceal it till his death,\nwarning him that a time would come when he should suffer rough and bitter\nthings on account of that book, from those who envied him.  That\nprophecy, says Reginald, came to pass; but how, or why, he does not tell.\nThere may have been, among those shrewd Northumbrian heads, even then,\nincredulous men, who used their common sense.\n\nBut the story which Godric told was wild and beautiful; and though we\nmust not depend too much on the accuracy of the old man\u2019s recollections,\nor on the honesty of Reginald\u2019s report, who would naturally omit all\nincidents which made against his hero\u2019s perfection, it is worth listening\nto, as a vivid sketch of the doings of a real human being, in that misty\ndistance of the Early Middle Age.\n\nHe was born, he said, at Walpole, in Norfolk, on the old Roman sea-bank,\nbetween the Wash and the deep Fens.  His father\u2019s name was \u00c6ilward; his\nmother\u2019s, \u00c6dwen\u2014\u201cthe Keeper of Blessedness,\u201d and \u201cthe Friend of\nBlessedness,\u201d as Reginald translates them\u2014poor and pious folk; and, being\na sharp boy, he did not take to field-work, but preferred wandering the\nfens as a pedlar, first round the villages, then, as he grew older, to\ncastles and to towns, buying and selling\u2014what, Reginald does not tell us:\nbut we should be glad to know.\n\nOne day he had a great deliverance, which Reginald thinks a miracle.\nWandering along the great tide-flats near Spalding and the old\nWell-stream, in search of waifs, and strays, of wreck or eatables, he saw\nthree porpoises stranded far out upon the banks.  Two were alive, and the\nboy took pity on them (so he said) and let them be: but one was dead, and\noff it (in those days poor folks ate anything) he cut as much flesh and\nblubber as he could carry, and toiled back towards the high-tide mark.\nBut whether he lost his way among the banks, or whether he delayed too\nlong, the tide came in on him up to his knees, his waist, his chin, and\nat last, at times, over his head.  The boy made the sign of the cross (as\nall men in danger did then) and struggled on valiantly a full mile\nthrough the sea, like a brave lad never loosening his hold of his\nprecious porpoise-meat till he reached the shore at the very spot from\nwhich he had set out.\n\nAs he grew, his pedlar journeys became longer.  Repeating to himself, as\nhe walked, the Creeds and the Lord\u2019s Prayer\u2014his only lore\u2014he walked for\nfour years through Lindsey; then went to St. Andrew\u2019s in Scotland; after\nthat, for the first time, to Rome.  Then the love of a wandering sea life\ncame on him, and he sailed with his wares round the east coasts; not\nmerely as a pedlar, but as a sailor himself, he went to Denmark and to\nFlanders, buying and selling, till he owned (in what port we are not\ntold, but probably in Lynn or Wisbeach) half one merchant ship and the\nquarter of another.  A crafty steersman he was, a wise weather-prophet, a\nshipman stout in body and in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells\nus of 350 years after:\u2014\n\n    \u201c\u2014A dagger hanging by a las hadde hee\n    About his nekke under his arm adoun.\n    The hote summer hadde made his hewe al broun.\n    And certainly he was a good felaw;\n    Full many a draught of wine he hadde draw,\n    From Burdeaux ward, while that the chapmen slepe,\n    Of nice conscience took he no kepe.\n    If that he fought, and hadde the higher hand,\n    By water he sent hem home to every land.\n    But of his craft to recken wel his tides,\n    His stremes and his strandes him besides,\n    His herberwe, his mone, and his lode manage,\n    There was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage.\n    Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:\n    With many a tempest hadde his berd be shake.\n    He knew wel alle the havens, as they were,\n    From Gotland to the Cape de Finisterre,\n    And every creke in Bretagne and in Spain.\u201d\n\nBut gradually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought that there\nwas something more to be done in the world than making money.  He became\na pious man after the fashion of those days.  He worshipped at the famous\nshrine of St. Andrew.  He worshipped, too, at St. Cuthbert\u2019s hermitage at\nFarne, and there, he said afterwards, he longed for the first time for\nthe rest and solitude of the hermitage.  He had been sixteen years a\nseaman now, with a seaman\u2019s temptations\u2014it may be (as he told Reginald\nplainly) with some of a seaman\u2019s vices.  He may have done things which\nlay heavy on his conscience.  But it was getting time to think about his\nsoul.  He took the cross, and went off to Jerusalem, as many a man did\nthen, under difficulties incredible, dying, too often, on the way.  But\nGodric not only got safe thither, but went out of his way home by Spain\nto visit the sanctuary of St. James of Compostella, a see which Pope\nCalixtus II. had just raised to metropolitan dignity.\n\nThen he appears as steward to a rich man in the Fens, whose sons and\nyoung retainers, after the lawless fashion of those Anglo-Norman times,\nrode out into the country round to steal the peasants\u2019 sheep and cattle,\nskin them on the spot, and pass them off to the master of the house as\nvenison taken in hunting.  They ate and drank, roystered and rioted, like\nmost other young Normans; and vexed the staid soul of Godric, whose nose\ntold him plainly enough, whenever he entered the kitchen, that what was\nroasting had never come off a deer.  In vain he protested and warned\nthem, getting only insults for his pains.  At last he told his lord.  The\nlord, as was to be expected, cared nought about the matter.  Let the lads\nrob the English villains: for what other end had their grandfathers\nconquered the land?  Godric punished himself, as he could not punish\nthem, for the unwilling share which he had had in the wrong.  It may be\nthat he, too, had eaten of that stolen food.  So away he went into\nFrance, and down the Rhone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of St. Giles,\nthe patron saint of the wild deer; and then on to Rome a second time, and\nback to his poor parents in the Fens.\n\nAnd now follows a strange and beautiful story.  All love of seafaring and\nmerchandise had left the deep-hearted sailor.  The heavenly and the\neternal, the salvation of his sinful soul, had become all in all to him;\nand yet he could not rest in the little dreary village on the Roman bank.\nHe would go on pilgrimage again.  Then his mother would go likewise, and\nsee St. Peter\u2019s church, and the Pope, and all the wonders of Rome, and\nhave her share in all the spiritual blessings which were to be obtained\n(so men thought then) at Rome alone.  So off they set on foot; and when\nthey came to ford or ditch, Godric carried his mother on his back, until\nthey came to London town.  And there \u00c6dwen took off her shoes, and vowed\nout of devotion to the holy apostles Peter and Paul (who, so she thought,\nwould be well pleased at such an act) to walk barefoot to Rome and\nbarefoot back again.\n\nNow just as they went out of London, on the Dover Road, there met them in\nthe way the loveliest maiden they had ever seen, and asked to bear them\ncompany in their pilgrimage.  And when they agreed, she walked with them,\nsat with them, and talked with them with superhuman courtesy and grace;\nand when they turned into an inn, she ministered to them herself, and\nwashed and kissed their feet, and then lay down with them to sleep, after\nthe simple fashion of those days.  But a holy awe of her, as of some\nsaint and goddess, fell on the wild seafarer; and he never, so he used to\naver, treated her for a moment save as a sister.  Never did either ask\nthe other who they were, and whence they came; and Godric reported (but\nthis was long after the event) that no one of the company of pilgrims\ncould see that fair maid, save he and his mother alone.  So they came\nsafe to Rome, and back to London town; and when they were at the place\noutside Southwark, where the fair maid had met them first, she asked\npermission to leave them, for she \u201cmust go to her own land, where she had\na tabernacle of rest, and dwelt in the house of her God.\u201d  And then,\nbidding them bless God, who had brought them safe over the Alps, and\nacross the sea, and all along that weary road, she went on her way, and\nthey saw her no more.\n\nThen with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory, and it may be\nnever leaving it, Godric took his mother safe home, and delivered her to\nhis father, and bade them both after awhile farewell, and wandered across\nEngland to Penrith, and hung about the churches there, till some kinsmen\nof his recognised him, and gave him a psalter (he must have taught\nhimself to read upon his travels), which he learnt by heart.  Then,\nwandering ever in search of solitude, he went into the woods and found a\ncave, and passed his time therein in prayer, living on green herbs and\nwild honey, acorns and crabs; and when he went about to gather food, he\nfell down on his knees every few yards and said a prayer, and rose and\nwent on.\n\nAfter awhile he wandered on again, until at Wolsingham, in Durham, he met\nwith another holy hermit, who had been a monk at Durham, living in a cave\nin forests in which no man dare dwell, so did they swarm with packs of\nwolves; and there the two good men dwelt together till the old hermit\nfell sick, and was like to die.  Godric nursed him, and sat by him, to\nwatch for his last breath.  For the same longing had come over him which\ncame over Marguerite d\u2019Angoul\u00eame when she sat by the dying bed of her\nfavourite maid of honour\u2014to see if the spirit, when it left the body,\nwere visible, and what kind of thing it was: whether, for instance, it\nwas really like the little naked babe which is seen in medi\u00e6val\nilluminations flying out of the mouths of dying men.  But, worn out with\nwatching, Godric could not keep from sleep.  All but despairing of his\ndesire, he turned to the dying man, and spoke, says Reginald, some such\nwords as these:\u2014\u201cO spirit! who art diffused in that body in the likeness\nof God, and art still inside that breast, I adjure thee by the Highest,\nthat thou leave not the prison of this thine habitation while I am\novercome by sleep, and know not of it.\u201d  And so he fell asleep: but when\nhe woke, the old hermit lay motionless and breathless.  Poor Godric wept,\ncalled on the dead man, called on God; his simple heart was set on seeing\nthis one thing.  And, behold, he was consoled in a wondrous fashion.  For\nabout the third hour of the day the breath returned.  Godric hung over\nhim, watching his lips.  Three heavy sighs he drew, then a shudder,\nanother sigh: {323} and then (so Godric was believed to have said in\nafter years) he saw the spirit flit.\n\nWhat it was like, he did not like to say, for the most obvious\nreason\u2014that he saw nothing, and was an honest man.  A monk teased him\nmuch to impart to him this great discovery, which seemed to the simple\nuntaught sailor a great spiritual mystery, and which was, like some other\nmedi\u00e6val mysteries which were miscalled spiritual (transubstantiation\nabove all), altogether material and gross imaginations.  Godric answered\nwisely enough, that \u201cno man could perceive the substance of the spiritual\nsoul.\u201d\n\nBut the monk insisting, and giving him no rest, he answered,\u2014whether he\nwished to answer a fool according to his folly, or whether he tried to\nfancy (as men will who are somewhat vain\u2014and if a saint was not vain, it\nwas no fault of the monks who beset him) that he had really seen\nsomething.  He told how it was like a dry, hot wind rolled into a sphere,\nand shining like the clearest glass, but that what it was really like no\none could express.  Thus much, at least, may be gathered from the\ninvolved bombast of Reginald.\n\nAnother pilgrimage to the Holy Sepulchre did Godric make before he went\nto the hermitage in Eskdale, and settled finally at Finchale.  And there\nabout the hills of Jud\u00e6a he found, says Reginald, hermits dwelling in\nrock-caves, as they had dwelt since the time of St. Jerome.  He washed\nhimself, and his hair shirt and little cross, in the sacred waters of the\nJordan, and returned, after incredible suffering, to become the saint of\nFinchale.\n\nHis hermitage became, in due time, a stately priory, with its community\nof monks, who looked up to the memory of their holy father Godric as to\nthat of a demigod.  The place is all ruinate now; the memory of St.\nGodric gone; and not one in ten thousand, perhaps, who visit those\ncrumbling walls beside the rushing Wear, has heard of the sailor-saint,\nand his mother, and that fair maid who tended them on their pilgrimage.\n\nMeanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same hermitage in\nEskdale, from which a Percy expelled St. Godric, possibly because he\ninterfered with the prior claim of some _prot\u00e9g\u00e9_ of their own; for they\nhad, a few years before Godric\u2019s time, granted that hermitage to the\nmonks of Whitby, who were not likely to allow a stranger to establish\nhimself on their ground.\n\nAbout that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in the Middle\nAges, in which the hermit appears as the protector of the hunted wild\nbeast; a story, too, which was probably authentic, as the curious custom\nwhich was said to perpetuate its memory lasted at least till the year\n1753.  I quote it at length from Burton\u2019s \u201cMonasticon Eboracense,\u201d p. 78,\nknowing no other authority.\n\n\u201cIn the fifth year of the reign of King Henry II. after the conquest of\nEngland by William, duke of Normandy, the Lord of Uglebardby, then called\nWilliam de Bruce, and the Lord of Sneton, called Ralph de Perci, with a\ngentleman and a freeholder called Allatson, did on the 16th day of\nOctober appoint to meet and hunt the wild boar, in a certain wood or\ndesert place belonging to the abbot of the monastery of Whitby; the\nplace\u2019s name is Eskdale-side; the abbot\u2019s name was Sedman.  Then these\ngentlemen being met, with their hounds and boar-staves, in the place\nbefore-named, and there having found a great wild boar, the hounds ran\nhim well near about the chapel and hermitage of Eskdale-side, where was a\nmonk of Whitby, who was a hermit.  The boar being very sore, and very\nhotly pursued, and dead run, took in at the chapel door, and there died:\nwhereupon the hermit shut the hounds out of the chapel, and kept himself\nwithin at his meditations and prayers, the hounds standing at bay\nwithout.  The gentlemen in the thick of the wood, being put behind their\ngame, followed the cry of their hounds, and so came to the hermitage,\ncalling on the hermit, who opened the door and came forth, and within\nthey found the boar lying dead, for which the gentlemen in very great\nfury (because their hounds were put from their game) did most violently\nand cruelly run at the hermit with their boar-staves, whereby he died\nsoon after: thereupon the gentlemen, perceiving and knowing that they\nwere in peril of death, took sanctuary at Scarborough.  But at that time\nthe abbot, being in very great favour with King Henry, removed them out\nof the sanctuary, whereby they came in danger of the law, and not to be\nprivileged, but likely to have the severity of the law, which was death.\nBut the hermit, being a holy and devout man, at the point of death sent\nfor the abbot, and desired him to send for the gentlemen who had wounded\nhim: the abbot so doing, the gentlemen came, and the hermit, being very\nsick and weak, said unto them, \u2018I am sure to die of those wounds you have\ngiven me.\u2019  The abbot answered, \u2018They shall as surely die for the same;\u2019\nbut the hermit answered, \u2018Not so, for I will freely forgive them my\ndeath, if they will be contented to be enjoined this penance for the\nsafeguard of their souls.\u2019  The gentlemen being present, and terrified\nwith the fear of death, bade him enjoin what penance he would, so that he\nwould but save their lives.  Then said the hermit, \u2018You and yours shall\nhold your lands of the Abbot of Whitby and his successors in this manner:\nThat upon Ascension Eve, you or some of you shall come to the woods of\nthe Strag Heads, which is in Eskdale-side, the same day at sun-rising,\nand there shall the abbot\u2019s officer blow his horn, to the intent that you\nmay know how to find him; and he shall deliver unto you, William de\nBruce, ten stakes, eleven strut-towers, and eleven yethers, to be cut by\nyou or some for you, with a knife of one penny price; and you, Ralph de\nPerci, shall take twenty and one of each sort, to be cut in the same\nmanner; and you, Allatson, shall take nine of each sort, to be cut as\naforesaid, and to be taken on your backs, and carried to the town of\nWhitby, and to be there before nine of the clock the same day\nbefore-mentioned; at the same hour of nine of the clock (if it be full\nsea) your labour or service shall cease; but if it be not full sea, each\nof you shall set your stakes at the brim, each stake one yard from the\nother, and so yether them on each side of your yethers, and so stake on\neach side with your strut-towers, that they may stand three tides without\nremoving by the force thereof: each of you shall do, make, and execute\nthe said service at that very hour every year, except it shall be full\nsea at that hour: but when it shall so fall out, this service shall\ncease.  You shall faithfully do this in remembrance that you did most\ncruelly slay me; and that you may the better call to God for mercy,\nrepent unfeignedly for your sins, and do good works, the officers of\nEskdale-side shall blow, _Out on you_, _out on you_, _out on you_, for\nthis heinous crime.  If you or your successors shall refuse this service,\nso long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesaid hour, you or yours\nshall forfeit your lands to the Abbot of Whitby, or his successors.  This\nI intreat, and earnestly beg that you may have lives and goods preserved\nfor this service; and I request of you to promise by your parts in heaven\nthat it shall be done by you and your successors, as it is aforesaid\nrequested, and I will confirm it by the faith of an honest man.\u2019  Then\nthe hermit said: \u2018My soul longeth for the Lord, and I do as freely\nforgive these men my death as Christ forgave the thieves upon the cross;\u2019\nand in the presence of the abbot and the rest he said, moreover, these\nwords: \u2018Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit, for from the bonds\nof death Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord of truth.  Amen.\u2019  So he yielded\nup the ghost the eighth day of December, A.D. 1160, upon whose soul God\nhave mercy.  Amen.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nANCHORITES, STRICTLY SO CALLED\n\n\nTHE fertile and peaceable lowlands of England, as I have just said,\noffered few spots sufficiently wild and lonely for the habitation of a\nhermit; those, therefore, who wished to retire from the world into a more\nstrict and solitary life than that which the monastery afforded were in\nthe habit of immuring themselves, as anchorites, or in old English\n\u201cAnkers,\u201d in little cells of stone, built usually against the wall of a\nchurch.  There is nothing new under the sun; and similar anchorites might\nhave been seen in Egypt, 500 years before the time of St. Antony, immured\nin cells in the temples of Isis or Serapis.  It is only recently that\nantiquaries have discovered how common this practice was in England, and\nhow frequently the traces of these cells are to be found about our parish\nchurches.  They were so common in the Diocese of Lincoln in the\nthirteenth century, that in 1233 the archdeacon is ordered to inquire\nwhether any Anchorites\u2019 cells had been built without the Bishop\u2019s leave;\nand in many of our parish churches may be seen, either on the north or\nthe south side of the chancel, a narrow slit in the wall, or one of the\nlights of a window prolonged downwards, the prolongation, if not now\nwalled up, being closed with a shutter.  Through these apertures the\n\u201cincluse,\u201d or anker, watched the celebration of mass, and partook of the\nHoly Communion.  Similar cells were to be found in Ireland, at least in\nthe diocese of Ossory; and doubtless in Scotland also.  Ducange, in his\nGlossary, on the word \u201cinclusi,\u201d lays down rules for the size of the\nanker\u2019s cell, which must be twelve feet square, with three windows, one\nopening into the church, one for taking in his food, and one for light;\nand the \u201cSalisbury Manual\u201d as well as the \u201cPontifical\u201d of Lacy, bishop of\nExeter, in the first half of the fifteenth century, contains a regular\n\u201cservice\u201d for the walling in of an anchorite. {330}  There exists too a\nmost singular and painful book, well known to antiquaries, but to them\nalone, \u201cThe Ancren Riwle,\u201d addressed to three young ladies who had\nimmured themselves (seemingly about the beginning of the thirteenth\ncentury) at Kingston Tarrant, in Dorsetshire.\n\nFor women as well as men entered these living tombs; and there spent\ntheir days in dirt and starvation, and such prayer and meditation\ndoubtless as the stupified and worn-out intellect could compass; their\nonly recreation being the gossip of the neighbouring women, who came to\npeep in through the little window\u2014a recreation in which (if we are to\nbelieve the author of \u201cThe Ancren Riwle\u201d) they were tempted to indulge\nonly too freely; till the window of the recluse\u2019s cell, he says, became\nwhat the smith\u2019s forge or the alehouse has become since\u2014the place where\nall the gossip and scandal of the village passed from one ear to another.\nBut we must not believe such scandals of all.  Only too much in earnest\nmust those seven young maidens have been, whom St. Gilbert of Sempringham\npersuaded to immure themselves, as a sacrifice acceptable to God, in a\nden along the north wall of his church; or that St. Hutta, or Huetta, in\nthe beginning of the thirteenth century, who after ministering to lepers,\nand longing and even trying to become a leper herself, immured herself\nfor life in a cell against the church of Huy near Li\u00e8ge.\n\nFearful must have been the fate of these incluses if any evil had\nbefallen the building of which (one may say) they had become a part.\nMore than one in the stormy Middle Age may have suffered the fate of the\npoor women immured beside St. Mary\u2019s church at Mantes, who, when town and\nchurch were burnt by William the Conqueror, unable to escape (or,\naccording to William of Malmesbury, thinking it unlawful to quit their\ncells even in that extremity), perished in the flames; and so consummated\nonce and for all their long martyrdom.\n\nHow long the practice of the hermit life was common in these islands is\nmore than my learning enables me to say.  Hermits seem, from the old\nChartularies, {331} to have been not unfrequent in Scotland and the North\nof England during the whole Middle Age.  We have seen that they were\nfrequent in the times of Malcolm Canmore and the old Celtic Church; and\nthe Latin Church, which was introduced by St. Margaret, seems to have\nkept up the fashion.  In the middle of the thirteenth century, David de\nHaigh conveyed to the monks of Cupar the hermitage which Gilmichael the\nHermit once held, with three acres of land.  In 1329 the Convent of\nDurham made a grant of a hermitage to Roger Eller at Norham on the Tweed,\nin order that he might have a \u201cfit place to fight with the old enemy and\nbewail his sins, apart from the turmoil of men.\u201d  In 1445 James the\nSecond, king of Scots, granted to John Smith the hermitage in the forest\nof Kilgur, \u201cwhich formerly belonged in heritage to Hugh Cominch the\nHermit, and was resigned by him, with the croft and the green belonging\nto it, and three acres of arable land.\u201d\n\nI have quoted these few instances, to show how long the custom lingered;\nand doubtless hermits were to be found in the remoter parts of these\nrealms when the sudden tempest of the Reformation swept away alike the\npalace of the rich abbot and the cell of the poor recluse, and\nexterminated throughout England the ascetic life.  The two last hermits\nwhom I have come across in history are both figures which exemplify very\nwell those times of corruption and of change.  At Loretto (not in Italy,\nbut in Musselburgh, near Edinburgh) there lived a hermit who pretended to\nwork miracles, and who it seems had charge of some image of \u201cOur Lady of\nLoretto.\u201d  The scandals which ensued from the visits of young folks to\nthis hermit roused the wrath of that terrible scourge of monks, Sir David\nLindsay of the Mount: yet as late as 1536, James the Fifth of Scotland\nmade a pilgrimage from Stirling to the shrine, in order to procure a\npropitious passage to France in search of a wife.  But in 1543, Lord\nHertford, during his destructive voyage to the Forth, destroyed, with\nother objects of greater consequence, the chapel of the \u201cLady of Lorett,\u201d\nwhich was not likely in those days to be rebuilt; and so the hermit of\nMusselburgh vanishes from history.\n\nA few years before, in 1537, says Mr. Froude, {333} while the harbours,\npiers, and fortresses were rising in Dover, \u201can ancient hermit tottered\nnight after night from his cell to a chapel on the cliff, and the tapers\non the altar before which he knelt in his lonely orisons made a familiar\nbeacon far over the rolling waters.  The men of the rising world cared\nlittle for the sentiment of the past.  The anchorite was told sternly by\nthe workmen that his light was a signal to the King\u2019s enemies\u201d (a Spanish\ninvasion from Flanders was expected), \u201cand must burn no more; and, when\nit was next seen, three of them waylaid the old man on his way home,\nthrew him down and beat him cruelly.\u201d\n\nSo ended, in an undignified way, as worn-out institutions are wont to\nend, the hermit life in the British Isles.  Will it ever reappear?  Who\ncan tell?  To an age of luxury and unbelief has succeeded, more than once\nin history, an age of remorse and superstition.  Gay gentlemen and gay\nladies may renounce the world, as they did in the time of St. Jerome,\nwhen the world is ready to renounce them.  We have already our nunneries,\nour monasteries, of more creeds than one; and the mountains of Kerry, or\nthe pine forests of the Highlands, may some day once more hold hermits,\npersuading themselves to believe, and at last succeeding in believing,\nthe teaching of St. Antony, instead of that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and\nof that Father of the spirits of all flesh, who made love, and marriage,\nand little children, sunshine and flowers, the wings of butterflies and\nthe song of birds; who rejoices in his own works, and bids all who truly\nreverence him rejoice in them with him.  The fancy may seem impossible.\nIt is not more impossible than many religious phenomena seemed forty\nyears ago, which are now no fancies, but powerful facts.\n\nThe following books should be consulted by those who wish to follow out\nthis curious subject in detail:\u2014\n\nThe \u201cVit\u00e6 Patrum Eremiticorum.\u201d\n\nThe \u201cActa Sanctorum.\u201d  The Bollandists are, of course, almost exhaustive\nof any subject on which they treat.  But as they are difficult to find,\nsave in a few public libraries, the \u201cActa Sanctorum\u201d of Surius, or of\nAloysius Lipommasius, may be profitably consulted.  Butler\u2019s \u201cLives of\nthe Saints\u201d is a book common enough, but of no great value.\n\nM. de Montalembert\u2019s \u201cMoines d\u2019Occident,\u201d and Ozanam\u2019s \u201cEtudes\nGermaniques,\u201d may be read with much profit.\n\nDr. Reeves\u2019 edition of Adamnan\u2019s \u201cLife of St. Columba,\u201d published by the\nIrish Arch\u00e6ological and Celtic Society, is a treasury of learning, which\nneeds no praise of mine.\n\nThe lives of St. Cuthbert and St. Godric may be found among the\npublications of the Surtees Society.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES\n\n\n{12}  About A.D. 368.  See the details in Ammianus Marcellinus, lib.\nxxviii.\n\n{15}  In the Celtic Irish Church, there seems to have been no other\npattern.  The hermits who became abbots, with their monks, were the only\nteachers of the people\u2014one had almost said, the only Christians.  Whence,\nas early as the sixth century, if not the fifth, they, and their\ndisciples of Iona and Scotland, derived their peculiar tonsure, their use\nof bells, their Eastern mode of keeping the Paschal feast, and other\npeculiarities, seemingly without the intervention of Rome, is a mystery\nstill unsolved.\n\n{17a}  A book which, from its bearing on present problems, well deserves\ntranslation.\n\n{17b}  \u201cVit\u00e6 Patrum.\u201d  Published at Antwerp, 1628.\n\n{23}  He is addressing our Lord.\n\n{24}  \u201cAgentes in rebus.\u201d  On the Emperor\u2019s staff?\n\n{27}  St. Augustine says, that Potitianus\u2019s adventure at Tr\u00eaves happened\n\u201cI know not when.\u201d  His own conversation with Potitianus must have\nhappened about A.D. 385, for he was baptized April 25, A.D. 387.  He does\nnot mention the name of Potitianus\u2019s emperor: but as Gratian was Augustus\nfrom A.D. 367 to A.D. 375, and actual Emperor of the West till A.D. 383,\nand as Tr\u00eaves was his usual residence, he is most probably the person\nmeant: but if not, then his father Valentinian.\n\n{29}  See the excellent article on Gratian in Smith\u2019s Dictionary, by Mr.\nMeans.\n\n{30}  I cannot explain this fact: but I have seen it with my own eyes.\n\n{32}  I use throughout the text published by Heschelius, in 1611.\n\n{33}  He is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle\nEgypt, A.D. 251.\n\n{34}  Seemingly the Greek language and literature.\n\n{35}  I have thought it more honest to translate \u03b1\u03c3\u03ba\u03ae\u03c3\u03b9\u03c2 by \u201ctraining,\u201d\nwhich is now, as then, its true equivalent; being a metaphor drawn from\nthe Greek games by St. Paul, 1 Tim. iv. 8.\n\n{41}  I give this passage as it stands in the Greek version.  In the\nLatin, attributed to Evagrius, it is even more extravagant and\nrhetorical.\n\n{42}  Surely the imagery painted on the inner walls of Egyptian tombs,\nand probably believed by Antony and his compeers to be connected with\ndevil-worship, explain these visions.  In the \u201cWords of the Elders\u201d a\nmonk complains of being troubled with \u201cpictures, old and new.\u201d  Probably,\nagain, the pain which Antony felt was the agony of a fever; and the\nvisions which he saw, its delirium.\n\n{44}  Here is an instance of the original use of the word \u201cmonastery,\u201d\nviz. a cell in which a single person dwelt.\n\n{45}  An allusion to the heathen mysteries.\n\n{49}  A.D. 311.  Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had\nbeen a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius\nMaximianus; and rose, like him, through the various grades of the army to\nbe co-Emperor of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious\npersecutor of the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant.  Such\nwere the \u201ckings of the world\u201d from whom those old monks fled.\n\n{52a}  The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile.  \u201cBelow the\ncliffs, beside the sea,\u201d as one describes them.\n\n{52b}  Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah,\nbetween the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony\u2019s monks endure to this\nday.\n\n{60}  This most famous monastery, _i.e._ collection of monks\u2019 cells, in\nEgypt is situate forty miles from Alexandria, on a hill where nitre was\ngathered.  The hospitality and virtue of its inmates are much praised by\nRuffinus and Palladius.  They were, nevertheless, the chief agents in the\nfanatical murder of Hypatia.\n\n{65}  It appears from this and many other passages, that extempore prayer\nwas usual among these monks, as it was afterwards among the Puritans (who\nhave copied them in so many other things), whenever a godly man visited\nthem.\n\n{66a}  Meletius, bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism\ncalling itself the \u201cChurch of the Martyrs,\u201d which refused to communicate\nwith the rest of the Eastern Church.  See Smith\u2019s \u201cDictionary,\u201d on the\nword \u201cMeletius.\u201d\n\n{66b}  Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was Athanasius,\nthe writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of God was not\nco-equal and co-eternal with the Father, but created by Him out of\nnothing, and before the world.  His opinions were condemned in the famous\nCouncil of Nic\u00e6a, A.D. 325.\n\n{67}  If St. Antony could use so extreme an argument against the Arians,\nwhat would he have said to the Mariolatry which sprang up after his\ndeath?\n\n{68a}  _I.e._ those who were still heathens.\n\n{68b}  \u1f30\u03b5\u03c1\u03b5\u03cd\u03c2.  The Christian priest is always called in this work simply\n\u03c0\u03c1\u03b5\u03c3\u03b8\u03cd\u03c4\u03b5\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2, or elder.\n\n{72a}  Probably that of A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, nominated\nby the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of Antioch,\nexpelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great violence was\ncommitted by his followers and by Philagrius the Prefect.  Athanasius\nmeanwhile fled to Rome.\n\n{72b}  _I.e._ celebrated there their own Communion.\n\n{77}  Evidently the prim\u00e6val custom of embalming the dead, and keeping\nmummies in the house, still lingered among the Egyptians.\n\n{108}  These sounds, like those which St. Guthlac heard in the English\nfens, are plainly those of wild-fowl.\n\n{115}  The Brucheion, with its palaces and museum, the residence of the\nkings and philosophers of Egypt, had been destroyed is the days of\nClaudius and Valerian, during the senseless civil wars which devastated\nAlexandria for twelve years; and monks had probably taken up their abode\nin the ruins.  It was in this quarter, at the beginning of the next\ncentury, that Hypatia was murdered by the monks.\n\n{116}  Probably the Northern, or Lesser Oasis, Ouah el Baharieh, about\neighty miles west of the Nile.\n\n{117a}  Jerome (who sailed that sea several times) uses the word here, as\nit is used in Acts xxvii. 27, for the sea about Malta, \u201cdriven up and\ndown in Adria.\u201d\n\n{117b}  The southern point of Sicily, now Cape Passaro.\n\n{118}  In the Morea, near the modern Navarino.\n\n{119a}  At the mouth of the Bay of Cattaro.\n\n{119b}  This story\u2014whatever belief we may give to its details\u2014is one of\nmany which make it tolerably certain that a large snake (Python) still\nlingered in Eastern Europe.  Huge tame snakes were kept as sacred by the\nMacedonian women; and one of them (according to Lucian) Peregrinus\nProteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitted with a linen mask, and made\nit personate the god \u00c6sculapius.  In the \u201cHistoria Lausiaca,\u201d cap. lii.\nis an account by an eye-witness of a large snake in the Thebaid, whose\ntrack was \u201cas if a beam had been dragged along the sand.\u201d  It terrifies\nthe Syrian monks: but the Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying\nthat he had seen much larger\u2014even up to fifteen cubits.\n\n{121}  Now Capo St. Angelo and the island of Cerigo, at the southern\npoint of Greece.\n\n{123a}  See p. 52.\n\n{123b}  Probably dedicated to the Paphian Venus.\n\n{130}  The lives of these two hermits and that of St. Cuthbert will be\ngiven in a future number.\n\n{131}  Sihor, the black river, was the ancient name of the Nile, derived\nfrom the dark hue of its waters.\n\n{159}  Ammianus Marcellinus, Book xxv. cap. 9.\n\n{160}  By Dr. Burgess.\n\n{163}  History of Christianity, vol. iii. p. 109.\n\n{203}  An authentic fact.\n\n{204}  If any one doubts this, let him try the game called \u201cRussian\nscandal,\u201d where a story, passed secretly from mouth to mouth, ends\nutterly transformed, the original point being lost, a new point\nsubstituted, original names and facts omitted, and utterly new ones\ninserted, &c. &c.; an experiment which is ludicrous, or saddening,\naccording to the temper of the experimenter.\n\n{209}  Les Moines d\u2019Occident, vol. ii. pp. 332\u2013467.\n\n{210}  M. La Borderie, \u201cDiscours sur les Saints Bretons;\u201d a work which I\nhave unfortunately not been able to consult.\n\n{212a}  Vit\u00e6 Patrum, p. 753.\n\n{212b}  Ibid. p. 893.\n\n{212c}  Ibid. p. 539.\n\n{212d}  Ibid. p. 540.\n\n{212e}  Ibid. p. 532.\n\n{224}  It has been handed down, in most crabbed Latin, by his disciple,\nEugippius; it may be read at length in Pez, Scriptores Austriacarum\nRerum.\n\n{238}  Scriptores Austriacarum Rerum.\n\n{245}  H\u00e6ften, quoted by Montalembert, vol. ii. p. 22, in note.\n\n{256}  Dr. Reeves supposes these to have been \u201ccrustacea:\u201d but their\nstinging and clinging prove them surely to have been jelly-fish\u2014medus\u00e6.\n\n{257}  I have followed the Latin prose version of it, which M. Achille\nJubinal attributes to the eleventh century.  Here and there I have taken\nthe liberty of using the French prose version, which he attributes to the\nlatter part of the twelfth.  I have often condensed the story, where it\nwas prolix or repeated itself: but I have tried to follow faithfully both\nmatter and style, and to give, word for word, as nearly as I could, any\nnotable passages.  Those who wish to know more of St. Brendan should\nconsult the learned _brochure_ of M. Jubinal, \u201cLa L\u00e9gende Latine de St.\nBrandaines,\u201d and the two English versions of the Legend, edited by Mr.\nThomas Wright for the Percy Society, vol. xiv.  One is in verse, and of\nthe earlier part of the fourteenth century, and spirited enough: the\nother, a prose version, was printed by Wynkyn de Worde, in his edition of\nthe \u201cGolden Legend;\u201d 1527.\n\n{260a}  In the Barony of Longford, County Galway.\n\n{260b}  3,000, like 300, seems to be, I am informed, only an Irish\nexpression for any large number.\n\n{269}  Some dim legend concerning icebergs, and caves therein.\n\n{270}  Probably from reports of the volcanic coast of Iceland.\n\n{272}  This part of the legend has been changed and humanized as time ran\non.  In the Latin and French versions it has little or no point or moral.\nIn the English, Judas accounts for the presence of the cloth thus:\u2014\n\n    \u201cHere I may see what it is to give other men\u2019s (goods) with harm.\n    As will many rich men with unright all day take,\n    Of poor men here and there, and almisse (alms) sithhe (afterwards)\n    make.\u201d\n\nFor the tongs and the stone he accounts by saying that, as he used them\nfor \u201cgood ends, each thing should surely find him which he did for God\u2019s\nlove.\u201d\n\nBut in the prose version of Wynkyn de Worde, the tongs have been changed\ninto \u201cox-tongues,\u201d \u201cwhich I gave some tyme to two preestes to praye for\nme.  I bought them with myne owne money, and therefore they ease me,\nbycause the fysshes of the sea gnaw on them, and spare me.\u201d\n\nThis latter story of the ox-tongues has been followed by Mr. Sebastian\nEvans, in his poem on St. Brendan.  Both he and Mr. Matthew Arnold have\nrendered the moral of the English version very beautifully.\n\n{274}  Copied, surely, from the life of Paul the first hermit.\n\n{283}  The famous Cathach, now in the museum of the Royal Irish Academy,\nwas long popularly believed to be the very Psalter in question.  As a\nrelic of St. Columba it was carried to battle by the O\u2019Donnels, even as\nlate as 1497, to insure victory for the clan.\n\n{290}  Bede, book iii. cap. 3.\n\n{292}  These details, and countless stories of St. Cuthbert\u2019s miracles,\nare to be found in Reginald of Durham, \u201cDe Admirandis Beati Cuthberti,\u201d\npublished by the Surtees Society.  This curious book is admirably edited\nby Mr. J. Raine; with an English synopsis at the end, which enables the\nreader for whom the Latin is too difficult to enjoy those pictures of\nlife under Stephen and Henry II., whether moral, religious, or social, of\nwhich the book is a rich museum.\n\n{299}  \u201cIn this hole lie the bones of the Venerable Bede.\u201d\n\n{303}  An English translation of the Anglo-Saxon life has been published\nby Mr. Godwin, of Cambridge, and is well worth perusal.\n\n{312}  Vita S. Godrici, pp. 332, 333.\n\n{316}  The earlier one; that of the Harleian MSS. which (Mr. Stevenson\nthinks) was twice afterwards expanded and decorated by him.\n\n{323}  Reginald wants to make \u201ca wonder incredible in our own times,\u201d of\na very common form (thank God) of peaceful death.  He makes miracles in\nthe same way of the catching of salmon and of otters, simple enough to\none who, like Godric, knew the river, and every wild thing which haunted\nit.\n\n{330}  That of the Salisbury Manual is published in the \u201cEcclesiologist\u201d\nfor August 1848, by the Rev. Sir W. H. Cope, to whom I am indebted for\nthe greater number of these curious facts.\n\n{331}  I owe these facts to the courtesy of Mr. John Stuart, of the\nGeneral Register Office, Edinburgh.\n\n{333}  \u201cHistory of England,\u201d vol. iii. p. 256, note.","title":"The Hermits","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":91696}