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-t" Paphnutius use! to tell a story which may ser e as a fit intro!uction to this book" %t contains a miniature sketch, not only of the social state of Egypt, but of the whole ,oman Empire, an! of the causes which le! to the famous monastic mo ement in the beginning of the fifth century after Christ"

Aow Paphnutius was a wise an! holy hermit, the )ather, 3bba, or 3bbot of many monksE an! after he ha! traine! himself in the !esert with all se erity for many years, he besought Go! to show him which of His saints he was like" 3n! it was sai! to him, $Thou art like a certain flute>player in the city"$ Then Paphnutius took his staff, an! went into the city, an! foun! that flute>player" But he confesse! that he was a !runkar! an! a profligate, an! ha! till lately got his li ing by robbery, an! recollecte! not ha ing e er !one one goo! !ee!" Ae ertheless, when Paphnutius Fuestione! him more closely, he sai! that he recollecte! once ha ing foun! a holy mai!en beset by robbers, an! ha ing !eli ere! her, an! brought her safe to town" 3n! when Paphnutius Fuestione! him more closely still, he sai! he recollecte! ha ing !one another !ee!" (hen he was a robber, he met once in the !esert a beautiful womanE an! she praye! him to !o her no harm, but to take her away with him as a sla e, whither he woul!E for, sai! she, $% am fleeing from the apparitors an! the Go ernorGs curials for the last two years" By husban! has been imprisone! for :55 pieces of gol!, which he owes as arrears of ta+esE an! has been often hung up, an! often scourge!E an! my three !ear boys ha e been taken from meE an! % am wan!ering from place to place, an! ha e been often caught myself an! continually scourge!E an! now % ha e been in the !esert three !ays without foo!"$ 3n! when the robber hear! that, he took pity on her, an! took her to his ca e, an! ga e her :55 pieces of gol!, an! went with her to the city, an! set her husban! an! her boys free" Then Paphnutius sai!, $% ne er !i! a !ee! like that2 an! yet % ha e not passe! my life in ease an! i!leness" But now, my son, since Go! hath ha! such care of thee, ha e a care for thine own self"$ 3n! when the musician hear! that, he threw away the flutes which he hel! in his han!, an! went with Paphnutius into the !esert, an! passe! his life in hymns an! prayer, changing his earthly music into hea enlyE an! after three years he went to hea en, an! was at rest among the choirs of angels, an! the ranks of the just" This story, as % sai!, is a miniature sketch of the state of the whole ,oman Empire, an! of the causes why men fle! from it into the !esert" Christianity ha! reforme! the morals of in!i i!ualsE it ha! not reforme! the Empire itself" That ha! sunk into a state only to be compare! with the worst !espotisms of the East" The Emperors, whether or not they calle! themsel es Christian, like Constantine, knew no law sa e the basest ma+ims of the heathen worl!" -e eral of them were barbarians who ha! risen from the lowest rank merely by military prowessE an! who, half ma!!ene! by their su!!en ele ation, a!!e! to their nati e ignorance an! brutality the pri!e, cunning, an! cruelty of an Eastern -ultan" ,i al Emperors, or Generals who aspire! to be Emperors, !e astate! the worl! from Egypt to Britain by sanguinary ci il wars" The go ernment of the pro inces ha! become altogether military" Torture was employe!, not merely, as of ol!, against sla es, but against all ranks, without !istinction" The people were e+hauste! by compulsory ta+es, to be spent in wars which !i! not concern them, or in Court lu+ury in which they ha! no share" %n the municipal towns, liberty an! justice were !ea!" The curials, who answere! somewhat to our al!ermen, an! who were

responsible for the payment of the public moneys, trie! their best to escape the unpopular office, an!, when compelle! to ser e, wrung the money in self>!efence out of the poorer inhabitants by e ery kin! of tyranny" The lan! was tille! either by oppresse! an! miserable peasants, or by gangs of sla es, in comparison with whose lot that e en of the 3merican negro was light" The great were ser e! in their own househol!s by crow!s of sla es, better fe!, !oubtless, but e en more miserable an! !egra!e!, than those who tille! the estates" Pri ate profligacy among all ranks was such as cannot be !escribe! in these or in any mo!ern pages" The regular clergy of the cities, though not of profligate li es, an! for the most part, in accor!ance with public opinion, unmarrie!, were able to make no stan! against the general corruption of the age, because> >at least if we are to trust such writers as @erome an! Chrysostom>> they were gi ing themsel es up to ambition an! a arice, anity an! lu+ury, intrigue an! party spirit, an! ha! become the flatterers of fine la!ies, $silly women la!en with sins, e er learning, an! ne er coming to the knowle!ge of the truth"$ -uch a state of things not only !ro e poor creatures into the !esert, like that fair woman whom the robber met, but it raise! up ban!s of robbers o er the whole of Europe, 3frica, an! the East,>>men who, like ,obin Hoo! an! the outlaws of the Bi!!le 3ge, getting no justice from man, broke loose from society, an! while they plun!ere! their oppressors, kept up some sort of ru!e justice an! humanity among themsel es" Bany, too, fle!, an! became robbers, to escape the merciless conscription which carrie! off from e ery pro ince the flower of the young men, to she! their bloo! on foreign battle>fiel!s" %n time, too, many of these conscripts became monks, an! the great monasteries of -cetis an! Aitria were hunte! o er again an! again by officers an! sol!iers from the neighbouring city of 3le+an!ria in search of young men who ha! entere! the $spiritual warfare$ to escape the earthly one" 3n! as a backgroun! to all this seething heap of !ecay, misrule, an! misery, hung the black clou! of the barbarians, the Teutonic tribes from whom we !eri e the best part of our bloo!, e er coming nearer an! nearer, wa+ing stronger an! stronger, learning !iscipline an! ci iliHation by ser ing in the ,oman armies, alternately the allies an! the enemies of the Emperors, rising, some of them, to the highest offices of -tate, an! !estine!, so the wisest ,omans saw all the more clearly as the years rolle! on, to be soon the conFuerors of the Caesars, an! the masters of the (estern worl!" Ao won!er if that, in such a state of things, there arose such iolent contrasts to the general weakness, such eccentric protests against the general wicke!ness, as may be seen in the figure of 3bbot Paphnutius, when compare! either with the poor man torture! in prison for his arrears of ta+es, or with the Go ernor an! the officials who torture! him" Ao won!er if, in such a state of things, the min!s of men were stirre! by a passion akin to !espair, which en!e! in a new an! gran! form of suici!e" %t woul! ha e en!e! often, but for Christianity, in such an actual !espair as that which ha! le! in past ages more than one noble ,oman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for the ,epublic" Christianity taught those who !espaire! of society, of the worl!>>in one wor!, of the ,oman Empire, an! all that it ha! !one for men>>to hope at least for a king!om of Go! after !eath" %t taught those who, ha! they been heathens an! bra e enough, woul! ha e slain themsel es to escape out of a worl! which was no place for honest men, that the bo!y must be kept ali e, if for no other reason, at least for the sake of the immortal soul, !oome!, accor!ing to its works, to en!less bliss or en!less torment"

But that the worl!>>such, at least, as they saw it then>>was !oome!, -cripture an! their own reason taught them" They !i! not merely belie e, but see, in the misery an! confusion, the !esolation an! !egra!ation aroun! them, that all that was in the worl!, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, an! the pri!e of life, was not of the )ather, but of the worl!E that the worl! was passing away, an! the lust thereof, an! that only he who !i! the will of Go! coul! abi!e for e er" They !i! not merely belie e, but saw, that the wrath of Go! was re eale! from hea en against all unrighteousness of menE an! that the worl! in general>>abo e all, its kings an! rulers, the rich an! lu+urious>>were treasuring up for themsel es wrath, tribulation, an! anguish, against a !ay of wrath an! re elation of the righteous ju!gment of Go!, who woul! ren!er to e ery man accor!ing to his works" That they were correct in their ju!gment of the worl! about them, contemporary history pro es abun!antly" That they were correct, likewise, in belie ing that some fearful ju!gment was about to fall on man, is pro e! by the fact that it !i! fallE that the first half of the fifth century saw, not only the sack of ,ome, but the conFuest an! !esolation of the greater part of the ci iliHe! worl!, ami! bloo!she!, misery, an! misrule, which seeme! to turn Europe into a chaos,>>which woul! ha e turne! it into a chaos, ha! there not been a few men left who still felt it possible an! necessary to belie e in Go! an! to work righteousness" =n!er these terrible forebo!ings, men began to flee from a !oome! worl!, an! try to be alone with Go!, if by any means they might sa e each man his own soul in that !rea! !ay" ?thers, not Christians, ha! !one the same before them" 3mong all the Eastern nations men ha! appeare!, from time to time, to whom the things seen were but a passing phantom, the things unseen the only true an! eternal realitiesE who, tormente! alike by the awfulness of the infinite unknown, an! by the petty cares an! low passions of the finite mortal life which they knew but too well, ha! !etermine! to renounce the latter, that they might gi e themsel es up to sol ing the ri!!le of the formerE an! be at peaceE an! free, at least, from the tyranny of their own sel es" Eight hun!re! years before -t" 3ntony fle! into the !esert, that young Hin!oo rajah, whom men call Bu!!ha now, ha! fle! into the forest, lea ing wi es an! king!om, to fin! rest for his soul" He !enounce! casteE he preache! po erty, asceticism, self>annihilation" He foun!e! a religion, like that of the ol! hermits, !emocratic an! ascetic, with its con ents, saint> worships, pilgrimages, miraculous relics, rosaries, an! much more, which strangely anticipates the monastic religionE an! his followers, to this !ay, are more numerous than those of any other cree!" Brahmins, too, ha! gi en themsel es up to penance an! mortification till they belie e! themsel es able, like Kehama, to ha e gaine! by self>torture the right to comman!, not nature merely, but the go!s themsel es" 3mong the @ews the Essenes by the #ea! -ea, an! the Therapeutae in Egypt, ha! forme! ascetic communities, the former more $practical,$ the latter more $contemplati e2$ but both alike agree! in the purpose of escaping from the worl! into a life of po erty an! simplicity, piety an! irtueE an! among the countless philosophic sects of 3sia, known to ecclesiastical writers as $heretics,$ more than one ha! professe!, an! !oubtless often practise!, the same abstraction from the worl!, the same contempt of the flesh" The ery Aeo>Platonists of 3le+an!ria, while they

!eri!e! the Christian asceticism, foun! themsel es force! to affect, like the hapless Hypatia, a sentimental an! pharisaic asceticism of their own" This phase of sight an! feeling, so strange to us now, was common, nay, primae al, among the Easterns" The !ay was come when it shoul! pass from the East into the (est" 3n! Egypt, $the mother of won!ersE$ the parent of so much ci iliHation an! philosophy both Greek an! ,omanE the half>way resting>place through which not merely the merchan!ise, but the wis!om of the East ha! for centuries passe! into the ,oman EmpireE a lan! more ill>go erne!, too, an! more miserable, in spite of its fertility, because more !efenceless an! effeminate, than most other ,oman possessions>>was the country in which naturally, an! as it were of here!itary right, such a mo ement woul! first appear" 3ccor!ingly it was !isco ere!, about the en! of the fourth century, that the mountains an! !eserts of Egypt were full of Christian men who ha! fle! out of the !ying worl!, in the hope of attaining e erlasting life" (on!erful things were tol! of their courage, their abstinence, their miracles2 an! of their irtues alsoE of their purity, their humility, their helpfulness, an! charity to each other an! to all" They calle! each other, it was sai!, brothersE an! they li e! up to that sacre! name, forgotten, if e er known, by the rest of the ,oman Empire" <ike the 3postolic Christians in the first fer our of their con ersion, they ha! all things in commonE they li e! at peace with each other, un!er a mil! an! charitable ruleE an! kept literally those comman!s of Christ which all the rest of the worl! e+plaine! away to nothing" The news sprea!" %t chime! in with all that was best, as well as with much that was Fuestionable, in the public min!" That men coul! be brothersE that they coul! li e without the taw!ry lu+ury, the tasteless an! often brutal amusements, the low sensuality, the base intrigue, the bloo!y warfare, which was the accepte! lot of the manyE that they coul! fin! time to look ste!fastly at hea en an! hell as awful realities, which must be face! some !ay, which ha! best be face! at onceE this, just as much as curiosity about their allege! miracles, an! the selfish longing to ri al them in superhuman powers, le! many of the most irtuous an! the most learne! men of the time to isit them, an! ascertain the truth" @erome, ,uffinus, E agrius, -ulpicius -e erus, went to see them, un!ergoing on the way the se erest toils an! !angers, an! brought back reports of mingle! truth an! falsehoo!, specimens of which will be seen in these pages" Tra elling in those !ays was a labour, if not of necessity, then surely of lo e" Palla!ius, for instance, foun! it impossible to isit the =pper Thebai!, an! -yene, an! that $infinite multitu!e of monks, whose fashions of life no one woul! belie e, for they surpass human lifeE who to this !ay raise the !ea!, an! walk upon the waters, like PeterE an! whatsoe er the -a iour !i! by the holy 3postles, He !oes now by them" But because it woul! be ery !angerous if we went beyon! <yco$ I<ycopolisJK, on account of the inroa! of robbers, he $coul! not see those saints"$ The holy men an! women of whom he wrote, he says, he !i! not see without e+treme toilE an! se en times he an! his companions were nearly lost" ?nce they walke! through the !esert fi e !ays an! nights, an! were almost worn out by hunger an! thirst" 3gain, they fell on rough marshes, where the se!ge pierce! their feet, an! cause! intolerable pain, while they were almost kille! with the col!" 3nother time, they stuck in the mu! up to their waists, an! crie! with #a i!, $% am come into !eep mire, where no groun! is"$ 3nother time, they wa!e! for four !ays through the floo! of the Aile

by paths almost swept away" 3nother time they met robbers on the seashore, coming to #iolcos, an! were chase! by them for ten miles" 3nother time they were all but upset an! !rowne! in crossing the Aile" 3nother time, in the marshes of Bareotis, $where paper grows,$ they were cast on a little !esert islan!, an! remaine! three !ays an! nights in the open air, ami! great col! an! showers, for it was the season of Epiphany" The eighth peril, he says, is har!ly worth mentioning>>but once, when they went to Aitria, they came on a great hollow, in which many croco!iles ha! remaine!, when the waters retire! from the fiel!s" Three of them lay along the bankE an! the monks went up to them, thinking them !ea!, whereon the croco!iles rushe! at them" But when they calle! lou!ly on the <or!, $the monsters, as if turne! away by an angel,$ shot themsel es into the waterE while they ran on to Aitria, me!itating on the wor!s of @ob, $-e en times shall He !eli er thee from troubleE an! in the eighth there shall no e il touch thee"$ The great -t" 3thanasius, fleeing from persecution, ha! taken refuge among these monks" He carrie! the report of their irtues to Tre es in Gaul, an! wrote a life of -t" 3ntony, the perusal of which was a main agent in the con ersion of -t" 3ugustine" Hilarion Ia remarkable personage, whose history will be tol! hereafterK carrie! their report an! their e+ample likewise into PalestineE an! from that time @u!aea, !esolate an! seemingly accurse! by the sin of the @ewish people, became once more the Holy <an!E the place of pilgrimageE whose ruins, whose ery soil, were kept sacre! by hermits, the guar!ians of the footsteps of Christ" %n ,ome itself the news pro!uce! an effect which, to the thoughtful min!, is altogether tragical in its nobleness" The ,oman aristocracy was !epri e! of all political powerE it ha! been !ecimate!, too, with horrible cruelty only one generation before, L.4M by *alentinian an! his satellites, on the charges of profligacy, treason, an! magic" Bere rich men, they still lingere! on, in i!leness an! lu+ury, without art, science, true ci iliHation of any kin!E followe! by long trains of sla esE punishing a ser ant with three hun!re! stripes if he were too long in bringing hot waterE weighing the fish, or bir!s, or !ormice put on their tables, while secretaries stoo! by, with tablets to recor! allE hating learning as they hate! poisonE in!ulging at the baths in con!uct which ha! best be left un!escribe!E an! $complaining that they were not born among the Cimmerians, if ami! their gol!en fans a fly shoul! perch upon the silken fringes, or a slen!er ray of the sun shoul! pierce through the awningE$ while, if they $go any !istance to see their estates in the country, or to hunt at a meeting collecte! for their amusement by others, they think that they ha e eFualle! the marches of 3le+an!er or of Caesar"$ ?n the wi es, wi!ows, an! !aughters of men of this stamp>>an! not half their effeminacy an! baseness, as the honest rough ol! sol!ier 3mmianus Barcellinus !escribes it, has been tol! here>>the news brought from Egypt worke! with won!rous potency" (omen of the highest rank awoke su!!enly to the !isco ery that life was gi en them for nobler purposes than that of fri olous enjoyment an! taw!ry anity" #espising themsel esE !espising the husban!s to whom they ha! been we!!e! in lo eless marriages !e con enance, whose infi!elities they ha! too often to en!ure2 they, too, fle! from a worl! which ha! sate! an! sickene! them" They free! their sla esE they ga e away their wealth to foun! hospitals an! to fee! the poorE an! in oluntary po erty an! mean garments they followe! such men as

@erome an! ,uffinus across the seas, to isit the new foun! saints of the Egyptian !esert, an! to en! their !ays, in some cases, in !oleful monasteries in Palestine" The li es of such women as those of the 3nician houseE the li es of Barcella an! )uria, of Paula, of the Belanias, an! the rest, it is not my task to write" They must be tol! by a woman, not by a man" (e may blame those la!ies, if we will, for neglecting their !uties" (e may sneer, if we will, at the weaknesses>>the aristocratic pri!e, the spiritual anity>>which we fancy that we !isco er" (e may lament>>an! in that we shall not be wrong>>the influence which such men as @erome obtaine! o er them>> the e+ample an! precursor of so much which has since then been ruinous to family an! social life2 but we must confess that the fault lay not with the themsel es, but with their fathers, husban!s, an! brothersE we must confess that in these women the spirit of the ol! ,oman matrons, which seeme! to ha e been so long !ea!, flashe! up for one splen!i! moment, ere it sunk into the !arkness of the Bi!!le 3geE that in them woman asserte! Ihowe er strangely an! fantasticallyK her moral eFuality with manE an! that at the ery moment when monasticism was consigning her to contempt, almost to abhorrence, as $the no+ious animal,$ the $fragile essel,$ the cause of manGs fall at first, an! of his sin an! misery e er since, woman showe! the monk Ito his nai ely>confesse! surpriseK, that she coul! !are, an! suffer, an! a!ore as well as he" But the mo ement, ha ing once seiHe! the ,oman Empire, grew an! sprea! irresistibly" %t was accepte!, supporte!, preache!, practise!, by e ery great man of the time" 3thanasius, Basil, Chrysostom, Gregory of AaHianHen in the East, @erome, 3ugustine, ,uffinus, E agrius, )ulgentius, -ulpicius -e erus, *incent of <erins, @ohn Cassian, Bartin of Tours, -al ian, Caesarius of 3rles, were all monks, or as much of monks as their !uties woul! allow them to be" 3mbrose of Bilan, though no monk himself, was the fer ent preacher of, the careful legislator for, monasticism male an! female" Throughout the whole ,oman Empire, in the course of a century, ha! sprea! hermits Ior !wellers in the !esertK, anchorites Iretire! from the worl!K, or monks I!wellers aloneK" The three names grew afterwar!s to !esignate three !ifferent or!ers of ascetics" The hermits remaine! through the Bi!!le 3ges those who !welt in !esertsE the anchorites, or $ankers$ of the English Bi!!le 3ge, seem generally to ha e inhabite! cells built in, or near, the church wallsE the name of $monks$ was transferre! from those who !welt alone to those who !welt in regular communities, un!er a fi+e! go ernment" But the three names at first were interchangeableE the three mo!es of life alternate!, often in the same man" The life of all three was the same,>>celibacy, po erty, goo! !ee!s towar!s their fellow>menE self>restraint, an! sometimes self>torture of e ery kin!, to atone Ias far as might beK for the sins committe! after baptism2 an! the mental foo! of all three was the same likewiseE continue! me!itation upon the anity of the worl!, the sinfulness of the flesh, the glories of hea en, an! the horrors of hell2 but with these the ol! hermits combine!>>to !o them justice>>a personal faith in Go!, an! a personal lo e for Christ, which those who sneer at them woul! !o well to copy" ? er all Europe, e en to %relan!, L.6M the same pattern of Christian e+cellence repeate! itself with strange regularity, till it became the only recei e! patternE an! to $enter religion,$ or $be con erte!,$ meant simply to become a monk" ?f the authentic biographies of certain of these men, a few specimens are gi en in this olume" %f they shall seem to any

rea!er uncouth, or e en absur!, he must remember that they are the only e+isting an! the generally contemporaneous histories of men who e+ercise! for .,:55 years an enormous influence o er the whole of Christen!omE who e+ercise a ast influence o er the greater part of it to this !ay" They are the biographies of men who were regar!e!, !uring their li es an! after their !eaths, as !i ine an! inspire! prophetsE an! who were worshippe! with boun!less trust an! a!miration by millions of human beings" Their fame an! power were not create! by the priesthoo!" The priesthoo! rather leant on them, than they on it" They occupie! a post analogous to that of the ol! @ewish prophetsE always in!epen!ent of, sometimes oppose! to, the regular clergyE an! !epen!ent altogether on public opinion an! the suffrage of the multitu!e" (hen Christianity, after three centuries of repression an! persecution, emerge! triumphant as the cree! of the whole ci iliHe! worl!, it ha! become what their li es !escribe" The mo!el of religious life for the fifth century, it remaine! a mo!el for succee!ing centuriesE on the li es of -t" 3ntony an! his compeers were foun!e! the whole literature of saintly biographiesE the whole popular conception of the uni erse, an! of manGs relation to itE the whole science of !aemonology, with its peculiar literature, its peculiar system of criminal jurispru!ence" 3n! their influence !i! not cease at the ,eformation among Protestant !i ines" The influence of these <i es of the Hermit )athers is as much traceable, e en to style an! language, in $The PilgrimGs Progress$ as in the last Papal 3llocution" The great hermits of Egypt were not merely the foun!ers of that ast monastic system which influence! the whole politics, an! wars, an! social life, as well as the whole religion, of the Bi!!le 3geE they were a school of philosophers Ias they rightly calle! themsel esK who altere! the whole current of human thought" Those who wish for a general notion of the men, an! of their time, will fin! all that they reFuire Iset forth from !ifferent points of iew, though with the same honesty an! learningK in GibbonE in B" !e BontalembertGs $Boines !G?cci!ent,$ in #ean BilmanGs $History of Christianity$ an! $<atin Christianity,$ an! in ?HanamGs $Etu!es GermaniFues"$ L.0aM But the truest notion of the men is to be got, after all, from the original !ocumentsE an! especially from that curious collection of them by the @esuit ,oswey!e, commonly known as the $<i es of the Hermit )athers"$ L.0bM 3fter an acFuaintance of now fi e>an!>twenty years with this won!erful treasury of early Christian mythology, to which all fairy tales are !ull an! meagre, % am almost incline! to sympathise with B" !e BontalembertGs Fuestions,>>$(ho is so ignorant, or so unfortunate, as not to ha e !e oure! these tales of the heroic age of monachismJ (ho has not contemplate!, if not with the eyes of faith, at least with the a!miration inspire! by an incontrollable greatness of soul, the struggles of these athletes of penitenceJ " " " " E erything is to be foun! there>> ariety, pathos, the sublime an! simple epic of a race of men, naifs as chil!ren, an! strong as giants"$ %n whate er else one may !iffer from B" !e Bontalembert>> an! it is always painful to !iffer from one whose pen has been always the faithful ser ant of irtue an! piety, purity an! chi alry, loyalty an! liberty, an! whose generous appreciation of Englan! an! the English is the more honourable to him, by reason of an utter !i ergence in opinion, which in less wi!e an! noble spirits pro!uces only antipathy>>one must at least agree with him in his estimate of the importance of these $<i es of the )athers,$ not only to the ecclesiologist, but to the psychologist an! the historian" Their influence, subtle, often transforme! an! mo!ifie! again an!

again, but still potent from its ery subtleness, is being felt aroun! us in many a puHHle>>e!ucational, social, politicalE an! promises to be felt still more !uring the coming generationE an! to ha e stu!ie! thoroughly one of them>>say the life of -t" 3ntony by -t" 3thanasius>>is to ha e ha! in our han!s Iwhether we knew it or notK the key to many a lock, which just now refuses either to be tampere! with or burst open" % ha e !etermine!, therefore, to gi e a few of these li es, translate! as literally as possible" Thus the rea!er will then ha e no reason to fear a garble! or partial account of personages so !ifficult to concei e or un!erstan!" He will be able to see the men as wholesE to ju!ge Iaccor!ing to his lightK of their merits an! their !efects" The ery style of their biographers Iwhich is copie! as literally as is compatible with the English tongueK will teach him, if he be wise, somewhat of the temper an! habits of thought of the age in which they li e!E an! one of these original !ocuments, with its honesty, its i i! touches of contemporary manners, its intense earnestness, will gi e, perhaps, a more true picture of the whole hermit mo ement than Iwith all respect, be it sai!K the most brilliant general panorama" %t is impossible to gi e in this series all the li es of the early hermits>>e en of those containe! in ,oswey!e" This olume will contain, therefore, only the most important an! most famous li es of the Egyptian, -yrian, an! Persian hermits, followe!, perhaps, by a few later biographies from (estern Europe, as proofs that the hermit>type, as it sprea! towar! the 3tlantic, remaine! still the same as in the Egyptian !esert" 3gainst one mo!ern mistake the rea!er must be warne!E the theory, namely, that these biographies were written as religious romancesE e!ifying, but not historicalE to be a!mire!, but not belie e!" There is not the slightest e i!ence that such was the case" The li es of these, an! most other saints Icertainly those in this olumeK, were written by men who belie e! the stories themsel es, after such inFuiry into the facts as they !eeme! necessaryE who knew that others woul! belie e themE an! who inten!e! that they shoul! !o soE an! the stones were belie e! accor!ingly, an! taken as matter of fact for the most practical purposes by the whole of Christen!om" The forging of miracles, like the forging of charters, for the honour of a particular shrine, or the a! antage of a particular monastery, belongs to a much later an! much worse ageE an!, whatsoe er we may think of the taste of the authors of these li es, or of their faculty for ju!ging of e i!ence, we must at least gi e them cre!it for being earnest men, incapable of what woul! ha e been in their eyes, an! ought to be in ours, not merely falsehoo!, but impiety" <et the rea!er be sure of this>>that these !ocuments woul! not ha e e+ercise! their enormous influence on the human min!, ha! there not been in them, un!er whate er acci!ents of cre!ulity, an! e en absur!ity, an element of sincerity, irtue, an! nobility"

-3%AT 3AT?A&

The life of 3ntony, by 3thanasius, is perhaps the most important of all these biographiesE because first, 3ntony was generally hel! to be the first great e+ample an! preacher of the hermit lifeE because

ne+t, 3thanasius, his biographer, ha ing by his contro ersial writings establishe! the ortho!o+ faith as it is now hel! alike by ,omanists, Greeks, an! Protestants, !i!, by his publication of the life of 3ntony, establish the hermit life as the i!eal Iin his opinionK of Christian e+cellenceE an! lastly, because that biography e+ercise! a most potent influence on the con ersion of -t" 3ugustine, the greatest thinker Ialways e+cepting -t" PaulK whom the worl! ha! seen since Plato, whom the worl! was to see again till <or! BaconE the theologian an! philosopher Ifor he was the latter, as well as the former, in the strictest senseK to whom the worl! owes, not only the formuliHing of the whole scheme of the uni erse for a thousan! years after his !eath, but Cal inism Iwrongly so calle!K in all its forms, whether hel! by the 3ugustinian party in the Church of ,ome, or the $,eforme!$ Churches of Gene a, )rance, an! -cotlan!" (hether we ha e the e+act te+t of the !ocument as 3thanasius wrote it to the $)oreign Brethren$>>probably the religious folk of Tre es> >in the Greek ersion publishe! by Heschelius in .N.., an! in certain earlier Greek te+tsE whether the <atin translation attribute! to E agrius, which has been well known for centuries past in the <atin Church, be actually hisE whether it be e+actly that of which -t" @erome speaks, an! whether it be e+actly that which -t" 3ugustine saw, are Fuestions which it is now impossible to !eci!e" But of the genuineness of the life in its entirety we ha e no right to !oubt, contrary to the er!icts of the most !istinguishe! scholars, whether Protestant or CatholicE an! there is fair reason to suppose that the !ocument Iallowing for errors an! ariations of transcribersK which % ha e trie! to translate, is that of which the great -t" 3ugustine speaks in the eighth book of his Confessions" He tells us that he was reclaime! at last from a profligate life Ithe thought of honourable marriage seems ne er to ha e entere! his min!K, by meeting, while practising as a rhetorician at Tre es, an ol! 3frican acFuaintance, name! Potitanius, an officer of rank" (hat followe! no wor!s can e+press so well as those of the great genius himself" $(hen % tol! him that % was gi ing much attention to those writings Ithe Epistles of PaulK, we began to talk, an! he to tell, of 3ntony, the monk of Egypt, whose name was then ery famous among thy ser ants2 L4:M but was unknown to us till that moment" (hen he !isco ere! that, he spent some time o er the subject, !etailing his irtues, an! won!ering at our ignorance" (e were astoun!e! at hearing such well>atteste! mar els of him, so recent an! almost contemporaneous, wrought in the right faith of the Catholic Church" (e all won!ere!2 we, that they were so greatE an! he, that we ha! not hear! of them" Thence his !iscourse ran on to those flocks of hermit>cells, an! the morals of thy sweetness, an! the fruitful !eserts of the wil!erness, of which we knew nought" There was a monastery, too, at Bilan, full of goo! brethren, outsi!e the city walls, un!er the tutelage of 3mbrosius, an! we knew nothing of it" He went on still speaking, an! we listene! intentlyE an! it befell that he tol! us how, % know not when, he an! three of his mess companions at Tre es, while the emperor was engage! in an afternoon spectacle in the circus, went out for a walk in the gar!ens roun! the wallsE an! as they walke! there in pairs, one with him alone, an! the two others by themsel es, they parte!" 3n! those two, straying about, burst into a cottage, where !welt certain ser ants of thine, poor in spirit, of such as is the king!om of hea enE an! there foun! a book, in which was written the life of 3ntony" ?ne of

them began to rea! it, an! to won!er, an! to be warne!E an!, as he rea!, to think of taking up such a life, an! lea ing the warfare of this worl! to ser e thee" Aow, he was one of those whom they call Banagers of 3ffairs" L4CM Then, su!!enly fille! with holy lo e an! sober shame, angere! at himself, he cast his eyes on his frien!, an! sai!, GTell me, prithee, with all these labours of ours, whither are we trying to getJ (hat are we seekingJ )or what are we sol!ieringJ Can we ha e a higher hope in the palace, than to become frien!s of the emperorJ 3n! when there, what is not frail an! full of !angersJ 3n! through how many !angers we !o not arri e at a greater !anger stillJ 3n! how long will that lastJ But if % choose to become a frien! of Go!, % can !o it here an! now"G He spoke thus, an!, swelling in the labour>pangs of a new life, he fi+e! his eyes again on the pages an! rea!, an! was change! inwar!ly as thou looke!st on him, an! his min! was strippe! of the worl!, as soon appeare!" )or while he rea!, an! rolle! o er the billows of his soul, he shu!!ere! an! hesitate! from time to time, an! resol e! better thingsE an! alrea!y thine, he sai! to his frien!, G% ha e alrea!y torn myself from that hope of ours, an! ha e settle! to ser e Go!E an! this % begin from this hour, in this ery place" %f you !o not like to imitate me, !o not oppose me"G He replie! that he woul! cling to his companion in such a great ser ice an! so great a warfare" 3n! both, now thine, began buil!ing, at their own cost, the tower of lea ing all things an! following thee" Then Potitianus, an! the man who was talking with him elsewhere in the gar!en, seeking them, came to the same place, an! warne! them to return, as the sun was getting low" They, howe er, tol! their resolution, an! how it ha! sprung up an! taken strong hol! in them, an! entreate! the others not to gi e them pain" They, not altere! from their former mo!e of life, yet wept Ias he tol! usK for themsel esE an! congratulate! them piously, an! commen!e! themsel es to their prayersE an! then !ragging their hearts along the earth, went back to the palace" But the others, fi+ing their hearts on hea en, remaine! in the cottage" 3n! both of them ha! affiance! bri!es, who, when they hear! this, !e!icate! their irginity to thee"$ The part which this inci!ent playe! in -t" 3ugustineGs own con ersion must be tol! hereafter in his life" But the scene which his master>han! has !rawn is not merely the !rama of his own soul or of these two young officers, but of a whole empire" %t is, as % sai! at first, the trage!y an! suici!e of the ol! empireE an! the birth>agony of which he speaks was not that of an in!i i!ual soul here or there, but of a whole new worl!, for goo! an! e il" The ol! ,oman soul was !ea! within, the bo!y of it !ea! without" Patriotism, !uty, purpose of life, sa e pleasure, money, an! intrigue, ha! perishe!" The young ,oman officer ha! nothing left for which to fightE the young ,oman gentleman nothing left for which to be a citiHen an! an owner of lan!s" E en the ol! ,oman longing Iwhich was also a sacre! !utyK of lea ing an heir to perpetuate his name, an! ser e the state as his fathers ha! before him>>e en that was gone" Aothing was left, with the many, but selfishness, which coul! rise at best into the !esire of sa ing e ery man his own soul, an! so transform worl!liness into other>worl!liness" The ol! empire coul! !o nothing more for manE an! knew that it coul! !o nothingE an! lay !own in the hermitGs cell to !ie" Tre es was then $the secon! metropolis of the empire,$ boasting, perhaps, e en then, as it boasts still, that it was stan!ing thirteen hun!re! years before ,ome was built" 3mi! the low hills, pierce! by rocky !ells, an! on a strath of richest soil, it ha! grown, from the mu!>hut town of the Tre iri, into a noble city of

palaces, theatres, baths, triumphal>arches, on either si!e the broa! an! clear Boselle" The bri!ge which 3ugustus ha! thrown across the ri er, four hun!re! years before the times of hermits an! of saints, stoo! like a cliff through all barbarian in asions, through all the battles an! sieges of the Bi!!le 3ge, till it was blown up by the )rench in the wars of <ouis O%*", an! nought remains sa e the huge piers of black la a stemming the blue streamE while up an! !own the !win!le! city, the colossal fragments of ,oman work>>the Black Gate, the Hei!enthurm, the baths, the Basilica or Hall of @ustice, now a <utheran church>>stan! out half ruine!, like the fossil bones of giants ami! the works of weaker, though of happier timesE while the amphitheatre was till late years plante! thick with ines, fattening in soil !renche! with the bloo! of thousan!s" Tre es ha! been the haunt of emperor after emperor, men wise an! strong, cruel an! terribleE>>of Constantius, Constantine the Great, @ulian, *alentinian, *alensE an! lastly, when PotitianusGs frien!s foun! those poor monks in the gar!en L40M of Gratian, the gentle hunter who thought !ay an! night on sport, till his arrows were sai! to be instinct with life, was hol!ing his military court within the walls of Tre es, or at that hunting palace on the northern !owns, where still on the bath>floors lie the mosaics of hare an! !eer, an! boar an! houn!, on which the feet of Emperors tro! full fifteen hun!re! years ago" -till glorious outwar!ly, like the ,oman empire itself, was that great city of Tre esE but inwar!ly it was full of rottenness an! weakness" The ,oman empire ha! been, in spite of all its crimes, for four hun!re! years the salt of the earth2 but now the salt ha! lost its sa ourE an! in one generation more it woul! be tro!!en un!er foot an! cast upon the !unghill, an! another empire woul! take its place,>>the empire, not of brute strength an! self>in!ulgence, but of sympathy an! self>!enial,>>an empire, not of Caesars, but of hermits" 3lrea!y was Gratian the frien! an! pupil of -t" 3mbrose of BilanE alrea!y, too, was he persecuting, though not to the !eath, heretics an! heathens" Aay, some fifty years before Iif the legen! can be in the least truste!K ha! -t" Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, returne! from Palestine, bearing with her>>so men belie e!>>not only the miraculously !isco ere! cross of Christ, but the seamless coat which he ha! wornE an!, turning her palace into a church, !eposite! the holy coat therein2 where>>so some belie e>>it remains until this !ay" Ben felt that a change was coming, but whence it woul! come, or how terrible it woul! be, they coul! not tell" %t was to be, as the prophet says, $like the bulging out of a great wall, which bursteth su!!enly in an instant"$ %n the ery amphitheatre where Gratian sat that afternoon, with all the folk of Tre es about him, watching, it may be, lions an! antelopes from 3frica slaughtere!>>it may be criminals torture! to !eath>>another an! an uglier sight ha! been twice seen some se enty years before" Constantine, so>calle! the Great, ha! there e+hibite! his $)rankish sports,$ the $magnificent spectacle,$ the $famous punishments,$ as his flattering court>historians calle! them2 thousan!s of )rank prisoners, many of them of noble, an! e en of royal bloo!, torn to pieces by wil! beasts, while they stoo! fearless, smiling with fol!e! armsE an! when the wil! beasts were gorge!, an! slew no more, weapons were put into the han!s of the sur i ors, an! they were bi!!en to fight to the !eath for the amusement of their ,oman lor!s" But fight they woul! not against their own flesh an! bloo!2 an! as for life, all chance of that was long gone by" -o e ery man fell joyfully upon his brotherGs swor!, an!, !ying like a German man, spoilt the sport of the goo! folk of Tre es" 3n! it seeme! for a while as if there were no Go! in hea en

who care! to a enge such !ee!s of bloo!" )or the kinsmen, it may be the ery sons, of those )ranks were now in GratianGs payE an! the )rank Berobau!es was his $Count of the #omestics,$ an! one of his most successful an! truste! generalsE an! all seeme! to go well, an! brute force an! craft to triumph on the earth" 3n! yet those two young staff officers, when they left the imperial court for the hermitGs cell, ju!ge!, on the whole, pru!ently an! well, an! chose the better part when they fle! from the worl! to escape the $!angers$ of ambition, an! the $greater !anger still$ of success" )or they escape!, not merely from ice an! worl!liness, but, as the e ent pro e!, from imminent !anger of !eath if they kept the loyalty which they ha! sworn to their emperorE or the worse e il of baseness if they turne! traitors to him to sa e their li es" )or little thought Gratian, as he sat in that amphitheatre, that the !ay was coming when he, the hunter of game>>an! of heretics>>woul! be hunte! in his turnE when, !eserte! by his army, betraye! by Berobau!es>>whose el!er kinsfolk were not likely to ha e kept him ignorant of $the )rankish sports $>>he shoul! flee pitiably towar!s %taly, an! !ie by a German han!E some say near <yons, some say near Belgra!e, calling on 3mbrose with his latest breath" L4/M <ittle thought, too, the goo! folk of Tre es, as they sat beneath the ast awning that afternoon, that within the ne+t half century a !ay of engeance was coming for them, which shoul! teach them that there was a Go! who $maketh inFuisition for bloo!E$ a !ay when Tre es shoul! be sacke! in bloo! an! flame by those ery $barbarian$ Germans whom they fancie! their allies>>or their sla es" 3n! least of all !i! they fancy that, when that great !estruction fell upon their city, the only element in it which woul! pass safely through the fire an! rise again, an! raise their city to new glory an! power, was that which was represente! by those poor hermits in the gar!en>hut outsi!e" <ittle thought they that abo e the awful arches of the Black Gate>>as if in mockery of the ,oman Power>>a lean anchorite woul! take his stan!, -imeon of -yracuse by name, a monk of Bount -inai, an! there imitate, in the far (est, the austerities of -t" -imeon -tylites in the East, an! be enrolle! in the new Pantheon, not of Caesars, but of -aints" =n!er the suppose! patronage of those -aints, Tre es rose again out of its ruins" %t gaine! its four great abbeys of -t" Ba+imus Ion the site of ConstantineGs palaceKE -t" Batthias, in the crypt whereof the bo!ies of the monks ne er !ecayE L:5M -t" BartinE an! -t" Bary of the )our Bartyrs, where four sol!iers of the famous Theban legion are sai! to ha e suffere! martyr!om by the house of the ,oman prefect" %t ha! its cathe!ral of -t" Peter an! -t" Helena, suppose! to be built out of -t" HelenaGs palaceE its e+Fuisite <iebfrauenkircheE its palace of the ol! 3rchbishops, mighty potentates of this worl!, as well as of the king!om of hea en" )or they were princes, arch>chancellors, electors of the empire, owning many a league of fertile lan!, go erning, an! that kin!ly an! justly, towns an! illages of Christian men, an! now an! then going out to war, at the hea! of their own knights an! yeomen, in !efence of their lan!s, an! of the saints whose ser ants an! trustees they wereE an! so became, accor!ing to their light an! their means, the salt of that lan! for many generations" 3n! after a while that salt, too, lost its sa our, an! was, in its turn, tro!!en un!er foot" The )rench republican wars swept away the ecclesiastical constitution an! the wealth of the ancient city" The cathe!ral an! churches were strippe! of relics, of jewels, of

treasures of early art" The Prince>bishopGs palace is a barrackE so was lately -t" Ba+imusGs shrineE -t" BartinGs a china manufactory, an! -t" BatthiasGs a school" Tre es belongs to Prussia, an! not to $Holy ChurchE$ an! all the ol! splen!ours of the $empire of the saints$ are almost as much ruinate as those of the $empire of the ,omans"$ -o goes the worl!, because there is a li ing Go!" $The ol! or!er changeth, gi ing place to the newE 3n! Go! fulfils himself in many ways, <est one goo! custom shoul! corrupt the worl!"$ But though palaces an! amphitheatres be gone, the gar!ens outsi!e still bloom on as when Potitianus his frien!s wan!ere! through them, perpetual as AatureGs selfE an! perpetual as Aature, too, en!ures whate er is goo! an! true of that afternoonGs work, an! of that fin!ing of the legen! of -t" 3ntony in the monkGs cabin, which fi+e! the !estiny of the great genius of the <atin Church" The story of -t" 3ntony, as it has been han!e! !own to us, L:4M runs thus2>> The life an! con ersation of our holy )ather 3ntony, written an! sent to the monks in foreign parts by our )ather among the saints, 3thanasius, 3rchbishop of 3le+an!ria" &ou ha e begun a noble ri alry with the monks of Egypt, ha ing !etermine! either to eFual or e en to surpass them in your training towar!s irtueE for there are monasteries alrea!y among you, an! the monastic life is practise!" This purpose of yours one may justly praiseE an! if you pray, Go! will bring it to perfection" But since you ha e also aske! me about the con ersation of the holy 3ntony, wishing to learn how he began his training, an! who he was before it, an! what sort of an en! he ma!e to his life, an! whether what is sai! of him is true, in or!er that you may bring yoursel es to emulate him, with great rea!iness % recei e! your comman!" )or to me, too, it is a great gain an! benefit only to remember 3ntonyE an! % know that you, when you hear of him, after you ha e won!ere! at the man, will wish also to emulate his purpose" )or the life of 3ntony is for monks a perfect pattern of ascetic training" (hat, then, you ha e hear! about him from other informants !o not !isbelie e, but rather think that you ha e hear! from them a small part of the facts" )or in any case, they coul! har!ly relate fully such great matters, when e en %, at your reFuest, howsoe er much % may tell you in my letter, can only sen! you a little which % remember about him" But !o not cease to inFuire of those who sail from henceE for perhaps, if each tells what he knows, at last his history may be worthily compile!" % ha! wishe!, in!ee!, when % recei e! your letter, to sen! for some of the monks who were wont to be most freFuently in his company, that % might learn something more, an! sen! you a fuller account" But since both the season of na igation limite! me, an! the letter>carrier was in haste, % hastene! to write to your piety what % myself know Ifor % ha e often seen himK, an! what % was able to learn from one who followe! him for no short time, an! poure! water upon his han!sE always taking care of the truth, in or!er that no one when he hears too much may !isbelie e, nor again, if he learns less than is nee!ful, !espise the man"

3ntony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents, L::M who ha! a sufficient property of their own2 an! as they were Christians, he too was Christianly brought up, an! when a boy was nourishe! in the house of his parents, besi!es whom an! his home he knew nought" But when he grew ol!er, he woul! not be taught letters, L:CM not wishing to mi+ with other boysE but all his longing was Iaccor!ing to what is written of @acobK to !well simply in his own house" But when his parents took him into the <or!Gs house, he was not saucy, like a boy, nor inattenti e as he grew ol!erE but was subject to his parents, an! attenti e to what was rea!, turning it to his own account" Aor again Ias a boy who was mo!erately well offK !i! he trouble his parents for arious an! e+pensi e !ainties, nor !i! he run after the pleasures of this lifeE but was content with what he foun!, an! aske! for nothing more" (hen his parents !ie!, he was left alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or twenty years of age, an! took care both of his house an! of her" But not si+ months after their !eath, as he was going as usual to the <or!Gs house, an! collecting his thoughts, he me!itate! as he walke! how the 3postles ha! left all an! followe! the -a iourE an! how those in the 3cts brought the price of what they ha! sol!, an! lai! it at the 3postlesG feet, to be gi en away to the poorE an! what an! how great a hope was lai! up for them in hea en" (ith this in his min!, he entere! the church" 3n! it befell then that the Gospel was being rea!E an! he hear! how the <or! ha! sai! to the rich man, $%f thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all thou hast, an! gi e to the poorE an! come, follow me, an! thou shalt ha e treasure in hea en"$ 3ntony, therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints ha! come to him from Go!, an! as if the lesson ha! been rea! on his account, went forth at once from the <or!Gs house, an! ga e away to those of his own illage the possessions he ha! inherite! from his ancestors Ithree hun!re! plough>lan!s, fertile an! ery fairK, that they might gi e no trouble either to him or his sister" 3ll his mo eables he sol!, an! a consi!erable sum which he recei e! for them he ga e to the poor" But ha ing kept back a little for his sister, when he went again into the <or!Gs house he hear! the <or! saying in the Gospel, $Take no thought for the morrow,$ an!, unable to en!ure any more !elay, he went out an! !istribute! that too to the nee!y" 3n! ha ing committe! his sister to known an! faithful irgins, an! gi en to her wherewith to be e!ucate! in a nunnery, he himself thenceforth !e ote! himself, outsi!e his house, to trainingE L:6M taking hee! to himself, an! using himself se erely" )or monasteries were not then common in Egypt, nor !i! any monks at all know the wi!e !esertE but each who wishe! to take hee! to himself e+ercise! himself alone, not far from his own illage" There was then in the ne+t illage an ol! man, who ha! traine! himself in a solitary life from his youth" (hen 3ntony saw him, he emulate! him in that which is noble" 3n! first he began to stay outsi!e the illageE an! then, if he hear! of any earnest man, he went to seek him, like a wise beeE an! !i! not return till he ha! seen him, an! ha ing got from him Ias it wereK pro ision for his journey towar! irtue, went his way" -o !welling there at first, he settle! his min! neither to look back towar!s his parentsG wealth nor to recollect his relationsE but he put all his longing an! all his earnestness on training himself more intensely" )or the rest he worke! with his han!s, because he ha! hear!, $%f any man will not work, neither let him eatE$ an! of his earnings he spent some on himself an! some on the nee!y" He praye! continually, because he knew that one ought to pray secretly, without ceasing" He atten!e!, also, so much to what was rea!, that, with him, none of the -criptures fell to the groun!, but he retaine! them all, an! for the future his memory ser e! him instea! of books" Beha ing thus, 3ntony was belo e! by allE an!

submitte! truly to the earnest men to whom he use! to go" 3n! from each of them he learnt some impro ement in his earnestness an! his training2 he contemplate! the courtesy of one, an! anotherGs assi!uity in prayerE anotherGs free!om from angerE anotherGs lo e of mankin!2 he took hee! to one as he watche!E to another as he stu!ie!2 one he a!mire! for his en!urance, another for his fasting an! sleeping on the groun!E he lai! to heart the meekness of one, an! the long>suffering of anotherE an! stampe! upon his memory the !e otion to Christ an! the mutual lo e which all in common possesse!" 3n! thus fille! full, he returne! to his own place of training, gathering to himself what he ha! got from each, an! stri ing to show all their Fualities in himself" He ne er emulate! those of his own age, sa e in what is bestE an! !i! that so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice o er him" 3n! all in the illage who lo e! goo!, seeing him thus, calle! him the frien! of Go!E an! some embrace! him as a son, some as a brother" But the !e il, who hates an! en ies what is noble, woul! not en!ure such a purpose in a youth2 but attempte! against him all that he is wont to !oE suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care for his sister, relation to his kin!re!, lo e of money, lo e of glory, the arious pleasures of lu+ury, an! the other solaces of lifeE an! then the harshness of irtue, an! its great toilE an! the weakness of his bo!y, an! the length of timeE an! altogether raise! a great !ust>clou! of arguments in his min!, trying to turn him back from his righteous choice" But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for 3ntonyGs !etermination, but rather baffle! by his stoutness, an! o erthrown by his great faith, an! falling before his continual prayers, then he attacke! him with the temptations which he is wont to use against young menE " " " " but he protecte! his bo!y with faith, prayers, an! fastings, " " " setting his thoughts on Christ, an! on his own nobility through Christ, an! on the rational faculties of his soul, " " " an! again on the terrors of the fire, an! the torment of the worm, " " " an! thus escape! unhurt" 3n! thus was the enemy brought to shame" )or he who thought himself to be eFual with Go! was now mocke! by a youthE an! he who boaste! against flesh an! bloo! was !efeate! by a man clothe! in flesh" )or the <or! worke! with him, who bore flesh on our account, an! ga e to the bo!y ictory o er the !e il, that each man in his battle may say, $Aot %, but the grace of Go! which is with me"$ 3t last, when the !ragon coul! not o erthrow 3ntony e en thus, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then gnashing his teeth Ias is writtenK, an! as if besi!e himself, he appeare! to the sight, as he is to the reason, as a black chil!, an! as it were falling !own before him, no longer attempte! to argue Ifor the !ecei er was cast outK, but using a human oice, sai!, $% ha e !ecei e! manyE % ha e cast !own many" But now, as in the case of many, so in thine, % ha e been worste! in the battle"$ Then when 3ntony aske! him, $(ho art thou who speakest thus to meJ$ he forthwith replie! in a pitiable oice, $% am the spirit of impurity"$" " " Then 3ntony ga e thanks to Go!, an! gaining courage, sai!, $Thou art utterly !espicableE for thou art black of soul, an! weak as a chil!E nor shall % henceforth cast one thought on thee" )or the <or! is my helper, an! % shall !espise my enemies"$ That black being, hearing this, fle! forthwith, cowering at his wor!s, an! afrai! thenceforth of coming near the man" This was 3ntonyGs first struggle against the !e il2 or rather this mighty !ee! in him was the -a iourGs, who con!emne! sin in the flesh that the righteousness of the <or! shoul! be fulfille! in us, who

walk not after the flesh, but after the -pirit" But neither !i! 3ntony, because the !aemon ha! fallen, grow careless an! !espise himE neither !i! the enemy, when worste! by him, cease from lying in ambush against him" )or he came roun! again as a lion, seeking a pretence against him" But 3ntony ha! learnt from -cripture that many are the !e ices of the enemyE an! continually kept up his training, consi!ering that, though he ha! not !ecei e! his heart by pleasure, he woul! try some other snares" )or the !aemon !elights in sin" Therefore he chastise! his bo!y more an! more, an! brought it into sla ery, lest, ha ing conFuere! in one case, he shoul! be trippe! up in others" He !etermine!, therefore, to accustom himself to a still more se ere lifeE an! many won!ere! at him2 but the labour was to him easy to bear" )or the rea!iness of the spirit, through long usage, ha! create! a goo! habit in him, so that, taking a ery slight hint from others, he showe! great earnestness in it" )or he watche! so much, that he often passe! the whole night without sleepE an! that not once, but often, to the astonishment of men" He ate once a !ay, after the setting of the sun, an! sometimes only once in two !ays, often e en in fourE his foo! was brea! with salt, his !rink nothing but water" To speak of flesh an! wine there is no nee!, for such a thing is not foun! among other earnest men" (hen he slept he was content with a rush>mat2 but mostly he lay on the bare groun!" He woul! not anoint himself with oil, saying that it was more fit for young men to be earnest in training, than to seek things which softene! the bo!yE an! that they must accustom themsel es to labour, accor!ing to the 3postleGs saying, $(hen % am weak, then % am strongE$ for that the min! was strengthene! as bo!ily pleasure was weakene!" 3n! this argument of his was truly won!erful" )or he !i! not measure the path of irtue, nor his going away into retirement on account of it, by timeE but by his own !esire an! will" -o forgetting the past, he !aily, as if beginning afresh, took more pains to impro e, saying o er to himself continually the 3postleGs wor!s, $)orgetting what is behin!, stretching forwar! to what is beforeE$ an! min!ful, too, of EliasG speech, $The <or! li eth, before whom % stan! this !ay"$ )or he hel!, that by mentioning to>!ay, he took no account of past time2 but, as if he were laying !own a beginning, he trie! earnestly to make himself !ay by !ay fit to appear before Go!, pure in heart, an! rea!y to obey his will, an! no other" 3n! he sai! in himself that the ascetic ought for e er to be learning his own life from the manners of the great Elias, as from a mirror" 3ntony, ha ing thus, as it were, boun! himself, went to the tombs, which happene! to be some way from the illageE an! ha ing bi!!en one of his acFuaintances to bring him brea! at inter als of many !ays, he entere! one of the tombs, an!, shutting the !oor upon himself, remaine! there alone" But the enemy, not en!uring that, but rather terrifie! lest in a little while he shoul! fill the !esert with his training, coming one night with a multitu!e of !aemons, beat him so much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture" )or he asserte! that the pain was so great that no blows gi en by men coul! cause such agony" But by the pro i!ence of Go! Ifor the <or! !oes not o erlook those who hope in himK, the ne+t !ay his acFuaintance came, bringing him the loa es" 3n! ha ing opene! the !oor, an! seeing him lying on the groun! for !ea!, he carrie! him to the <or!Gs house in the illage, an! lai! him on the groun!E an! many of his kinsfolk an! the illagers sat roun! him, as roun! a corpse" But about mi!night, 3ntony coming to himself, an! waking up, saw them all sleeping, an! only his acFuaintance awake, an!, no!!ing to him to approach, begge! him to carry him back to the tombs, without waking any one" (hen that was !one, the !oors were shut, an! he remaine! as before, alone insi!e" 3n!, because he coul! not stan!

on account of the !aemonsG blows, he praye! prostrate" 3n! after his prayer, he sai! with a shout, $Here am %, 3ntony2 % !o not fly from your stripesE yea, if you !o yet more, nothing shall separate me from the lo e of Christ"$ 3n! then he sang, $%f an host be lai! against me, yet shall not my heart be afrai!"$ Thus thought an! spoke the man who was training himself" But the enemy, hater of what is noble, an! en ious, won!ering that he !are! to return after the stripes, calle! together his !ogs, an! bursting with rage,>>$&e see,$ he sai!, $that we ha e not stoppe! this man by the spirit of impurityE nor by blows2 but he is e en growing bol!er against us" <et us attack him some other way"$ LC.M )or it is easy for the !e il to in ent schemes of mischief" -o then in the night they ma!e such a crash, that the whole place seeme! shaken, an! the !aemons, as if breaking in the four walls of the room, seeme! to enter through them, changing themsel es into the shapes of beasts an! creeping thingsE LC4M an! the place was forthwith fille! with shapes of lions, bears, leopar!s, bulls, an! snakes, asps, scorpions, an! wol es, an! each of them mo e! accor!ing to his own fashion" The lion roare!, longing to attackE the bull seeme! to tossE the serpent !i! not cease creeping, an! the wolf rushe! upon himE an! altogether the noises of all the apparitions were !rea!ful, an! their tempers cruel" But 3ntony, scourge! an! pierce! by them, felt a more !rea!ful bo!ily pain than before2 but he lay unshaken an! awake in spirit" He groane! at the pain of his bo!y2 but clear in intellect, an! as it were mocking, he sai!, $%f there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you shoul! come onE but since the <or! has ma!e you weak, therefore you try to frighten me by mere numbers" 3n! a proof of your weakness is, that you imitate the shapes of brute animals"$ 3n! taking courage, he sai! again, $%f ye can, an! ha e recei e! power against me, !elay not, but attackE but if ye cannot, why !o ye !isturb me in ainJ )or a seal to us an! a wall of safety is our faith in the <or!"$ The !aemons, ha ing ma!e many efforts, gnashe! their teeth at him, because he rather mocke! at them, than they at him" But neither then !i! the <or! forget 3ntonyGs wrestling, but appeare! to help him" )or, looking up, he saw the roof as it were opene! an! a ray of light coming !own towar!s him" The !aemons su!!enly became in isible, an! the pain of his bo!y forthwith cease!, an! the buil!ing became Fuite whole" But 3ntony, feeling the succour, an! getting his breath again, an! free! from pain, Fuestione! the ision which appeare!, saying, $(here wert thouJ (hy !i!st thou not appear to me from the first, to stop my pangsJ$ 3n! a oice came to him, $3ntony, % was here, but % waite! to see thy fight" Therefore, since thou hast withstoo!, an! not been worste!, % will be to thee always a succour, an! will make thee become famous e erywhere"$ Hearing this, he rose an! praye!, an! was so strong, that he felt that he ha! more power in his bo!y than he ha! before" He was then about thirty>an!>fi e years ol!" 3n! on the morrow he went out, an! was yet more eager for !e otion to Go!E an!, going to that ol! man aforesai!, he aske! him to !well with him in the !esert" But when he !ecline!, because of his age, an! because no such custom ha! yet arisen, he himself straightway set off to the mountain" But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness, an! wishing to hin!er it, cast in his way the phantom of a great sil er plate" But 3ntony, percei ing the trick of him who hates what is noble, stoppe!" 3n! he ju!ge! the plate worthless, seeing the !e il in itE an! sai!, $(hence comes a plate in the !esertJ This is no beaten way, nor is there here the footstep of any tra eller" Ha! it fallen, it coul! not ha e been unpercei e!, from its great siHeE an! besi!es, he who lost it woul! ha e turne! back an! foun! it, because the place is !esert" This is a trick of the !e il" Thou shalt not hin!er, !e il, my !etermination by this2 let

it go with thee into per!ition"$ 3n! as 3ntony sai! that, it anishe!, as smoke from before the face of the fire" Then again he saw, not this time a phantom, but real gol! lying in the way as he came up" But whether the enemy showe! it him, or whether some better power, which was trying the athlete, an! showing the !e il that he !i! not care for real wealthE neither !i! he tell, nor !o we know, sa e that it was real gol!" 3ntony, won!ering at the abun!ance of it, so steppe! o er it as o er fire, an! so passe! it by, that he ne er turne!, but ran on in haste, until he ha! lost sight of the place" 3n! growing e en more an! more intense in his !etermination, he rushe! up the mountain, an! fin!ing an empty inclosure full of creeping things on account of its age, he betook himself across the ri er, an! !welt in it" The creeping things, as if pursue! by some one, straightway left the place2 but he blocke! up the entry, ha ing taken with him loa es for si+ months Ifor the Thebans !o this, an! they often remain a whole year freshK, an! ha ing water with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that monastery, LCCM he remaine! alone, ne er going forth, an! ne er looking at any one who came" Thus he passe! a long time there training himself, an! only twice a year recei e! loa es, let !own from abo e through the roof" But those of his acFuaintance who came to him, as they often remaine! !ays an! nights outsi!e Ifor he !i! not allow any one to enterK, use! to hear as it were crow!s insi!e clamouring, thun!ering, lamenting, crying>>$#epart from our groun!" (hat !ost thou e en in the !esertJ Thou canst not abi!e our onset"$ 3t first those without thought that there were some men fighting with him, an! that they ha! got in by la!!ers2 but when, peeping in through a crack, they saw no one, then they took for grante! that they were !aemons, an! being terrifie!, calle! themsel es on 3ntony" But he rather listene! to them than care! for the others" )or his acFuaintances came up continually, e+pecting to fin! him !ea!, an! hear! him singing, $<et the <or! arise, an! his enemies shall be scattere!E an! let them who hate him flee before him" 3s wa+ melts from before the face of the fire, so shall sinners perish from before the face of Go!"$ 3n! again, $3ll nations compasse! me roun! about, an! in the name of the <or! % repelle! them"$ He en!ure! then for twenty years, thus training himself aloneE neither going forth, nor seen by any one for long perio!s of time" But after this, when many longe! for him, an! wishe! to imitate his training, an! others who knew him came, an! were bursting in the !oor by force, 3ntony came forth as from some inner shrine, initiate! into the mysteries, an! bearing the Go!" LC6M 3n! then first he appeare! out of the inclosure to those who were coming to him" 3n! when they saw him they won!ere!E for his bo!y ha! kept the same habit, an! ha! neither grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by fighting with the !aemons" )or he was just such as they ha! known him before his retirement" They won!ere! again at the purity of his soul, because it was neither contracte! as if by grief, nor rela+e! by pleasure, nor possesse! by laughter or by !epressionE for he was neither trouble! at behol!ing the crow!, nor o er>joyful at being salute! by too manyE but was altogether eFual, as being go erne! by reason, an! stan!ing on that which is accor!ing to nature" Bany sufferers in bo!y who were present !i! the <or! heal by himE an! others he purge! from !aemons" 3n! he ga e to 3ntony grace in speaking, so that he comforte! many who grie e!, an! reconcile! others who were at ariance, e+horting all to prefer nothing in the worl! to the lo e of Christ, an! persua!ing an! e+horting them to be min!ful of the goo! things to come, an! of the lo e of Go! towar!s us, who spare! not his own son, but !eli ere! him up for us all" He persua!e! many to choose the solitary lifeE an! so thenceforth cells sprang up in the mountains, an! the !esert was coloniHe! by monks, who went forth

from their own, an! registere! themsel es in the city which is in hea en" 3n! when he ha! nee! to cross the 3rsenoite Canal Ian! the nee! was the superinten!ence of the brethrenK, the canal was full of croco!iles" 3n! ha ing only praye!, he entere! itE an! both he an! all who were with him went through it unharme!" But when he returne! to the cell, he persiste! in the noble labours of his youthE an! by continue! e+hortations he increase! the willingness of those who were alrea!y monks, an! stirre! to lo e of training the greater number of the restE an! Fuickly, as his speech !rew men on, the cells became more numerousE an! he go erne! them all as a father" 3n! when he ha! gone forth one !ay, an! all the monks ha! come to him !esiring to hear some wor! from him, he spake to them in the Egyptian tongue, thus>>$That the -criptures were sufficient for instruction, but that it was goo! for us to e+hort each other in the faith"$ " " " 7Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the earliest Christian attempt to re!uce to a science !aemonology an! the temptation of !aemons2 but its in ol e! an! rhetorical form pro es sufficiently that it coul! not ha e been !eli ere! by an unlettere! man like 3ntony" Aeither is it, probably, e en compose! by -t" 3thanasiusE it seems rather, like se eral other passages in this biography, the interpolation of some later scribe" %t has been, therefore, omitte!"; 3n! when 3ntony ha! spoken thus, all rejoice!E an! in one the lo e of irtue was increase!, in another negligence stirre! up, an! in others conceit stoppe!, while all were persua!e! to !espise the plots of the !e il, won!ering at the grace which ha! been gi en to 3ntony by the <or! for the !iscernment of spirits" -o the cells in the mountains were like tents fille! with !i ine choirs, singing, !iscoursing, fasting, praying, rejoicing o er the hope of the future, working that they might gi e alms thereof, an! ha ing lo e an! concor! with each other" 3n! there was really to be seen, as it were, a lan! by itself, of piety an! justiceE for there was none there who !i! wrong, or suffere! wrong2 no blame from any talebearer2 but a multitu!e of men training themsel es, an! in all of them a min! set on irtue" -o that any one seeing the cells, an! such an array of monks, woul! ha e crie! out, an! sai!, $How fair are thy !wellings, ? @acob, an! thy tents, ? %sraelE like sha!y gro es an! like parks besi!e a ri er, an! like tents which the <or! hath pitche!, an! like ce!ars by the waters"$ He himself, meanwhile, with!rawing, accor!ing to his custom, alone to his own cell, increase! the se erity of his training" 3n! he groane! !aily, consi!ering the mansions in hea en, an! setting his longing on them, an! looking at the ephemeral life of man" )or e en when he was going to eat or sleep, he was ashame!, when he consi!ere! the rational element of his soulE so that often, when he was about to eat with many other monks, he remembere! the spiritual foo!, an! !ecline!, an! went far away from themE thinking that he shoul! blush if he was seen by others eating" He ate, ne ertheless, by himself, on account of the necessities of the bo!yE an! often, too, with the brethren, being bashful with regar! to them, but plucking up heart for the sake of saying something that might be usefulE an! use! to tell them that they ought to gi e all their leisure rather to the soul than to the bo!yE an! that they shoul! grant a ery little time to the bo!y, for mere necessityGs sake2 but that their whole leisure shoul! be rather gi en to the soul, an! shoul! seek her profit, that she may not be !rawn !own by the pleasures of the bo!y,

but rather the bo!y be le! capti e by her" )or this Ihe sai!K was what was spoken by the -a iour, $Be not an+ious for your soul, what ye shall eatE nor for your bo!y, what ye shall put on" 3n! seek not what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall !rink, neither let your min!s be in suspense2 for after all these things the nations of the worl! seek2 but your )ather knoweth that ye nee! all these things" ,ather seek first his king!omE an! all these things shall be a!!e! unto you"$ 3fter these things, the persecution which happene! un!er the Ba+iminus of that time, LC/M lai! hol! of the ChurchE an! when the holy martyrs were brought to 3le+an!ria, 3ntony too followe!, lea ing his cell, an! saying, $<et us !epart too, that we may wrestle if we be calle!, or see them wrestling"$ 3n! he longe! to be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to gi e himself up, he ministere! to the confessors in the mines, an! in the prisons" 3n! he was ery earnest in the ju!gment>hall to e+cite the rea!iness of those who were calle! upon to wrestleE an! to recei e an! bring on their way, till they were perfecte!, those of them who went to martyr!om" 3t last the ju!ge, seeing the fearlessness an! earnestness of him an! those who were with him, comman!e! that none of the monks shoul! appear in the ju!gment>hall, or haunt at all in the city" -o all the rest thought goo! to hi!e themsel es that !ayE but 3ntony care! so much for the or!er, that he all the rather washe! his cloak, an! stoo! ne+t !ay upon a high place, an! appeare! to the General in shining white" Therefore, when all the rest won!ere!, an! the General saw him, an! passe! by with his array, he stoo! fearless, showing forth the rea!iness of us Christians" )or he himself praye! to be a martyr, as % ha e sai!, an! was like one grie e!, because he ha! not borne his witness" But the <or! was preser ing him for our benefit, an! that of the rest, that he might become a teacher to many in the training which he ha! learnt from -cripture" )or many, when they only saw his manner of life, were eager to emulate it" -o he again ministere! continually to the confessorsE an!, as if boun! with them, wearie! himself in his ser ices" 3n! when at last the persecution cease!, an! the blesse! Bishop Peter ha! been martyre!, he left the city, an! went back to his cell" 3n! he was there, !ay by !ay, a martyr in his conscience, an! wrestling in the conflict of faithE for he impose! on himself a much more se ere training than beforeE an! his garment was within of hair, without of skin, which he kept till his en!" He neither washe! his bo!y with water, nor e er cleanse! his feet, nor actually en!ure! putting them into water unless it were necessary" 3n! no one e er saw him unclothe! till he was !ea! an! about to be burie!" (hen, then, he retire!, an! ha! resol e! neither to go forth himself, nor to recei e any one, one Bartinianus, a captain of sol!iers, came an! ga e trouble to 3ntony" )or he ha! with him his !aughter, who was tormente! by a !aemon" 3n! while he remaine! a long time knocking at the !oor, an! e+pecting him to come to pray to Go! for the chil!, 3ntony coul! not bear to open, but leaning from abo e, sai!, $Ban, why criest thou to meJ %, too, am a man, as thou art" But if thou belie est, pray to Go!, an! it comes to pass"$ )orthwith, therefore, he belie e!, an! calle! on ChristE an! went away, with his !aughter cleanse! from the !aemon" 3n! many other things the <or! !i! by him, saying, $3sk, an! it shall be gi en you"$ )or most of the sufferers, when he !i! not open the !oor, only sat !own outsi!e the cell, an! belie ing, an! praying honestly, were cleanse!" But when he saw himself trouble! by many, an! not being permitte! to retire, as he wishe!, being afrai! lest he himself shoul! be puffe! up by what the <or! was !oing by him, or

lest others shoul! count of him abo e what he was, he resol e! to go to the =pper Thebai!, to those who knew him not" 3n!, in fact, ha ing taken loa es from the brethren, he sat !own on the bank of the ri er, watching for a boat to pass, that he might embark an! go up in it" 3n! as he watche!, a oice came to him2 $3ntony, whither art thou going, an! whyJ$ 3n! he, not terrifie!, but as one accustome! to be often calle! thus, answere! when he hear! it, $Because the crow!s will not let me be at restE therefore am % min!e! to go up to the =pper Thebai!, on account of the many annoyances which befall meE an!, abo e all, because they ask of me things beyon! my strength"$ 3n! the oice sai! to him, $E en if thou goest up to the Thebai!, e en if, as thou art min!e! to !o, thou goest !own the cattle pastures, L64aM thou wilt ha e to en!ure more, an! !ouble troubleE but if thou wilt really be at rest, go now into the inner !esert"$ 3n! when 3ntony sai!, $(ho will show me the way, for % ha e not trie! itJ$ forthwith it showe! him -aracens who were going to journey that roa!" -o, going to them, an! !rawing near them, 3ntony aske! lea e to !epart with them into the !esert" But they, as if by an or!inance of Pro i!ence, willingly recei e! himE an!, journeying three !ays an! three nights with them, he came to a ery high mountainE L64bM an! there was water un!er the mountain, clear, sweet, an! ery col!E an! a plain outsi!eE an! a few neglecte! !ate>palms" Then 3ntony, as if stirre! by Go!, lo e! the spotE for this it was what he ha! pointe! out who spoke to him besi!e the ri er bank" 3t first, then, ha ing recei e! brea! from those who journeye! with him, he remaine! alone in the mount, no one else being with him" )or he recognise! that place as his own home, an! kept it thenceforth" 3n! the -aracens themsel es, seeing 3ntonyGs rea!iness, came that way on purpose, an! joyfully brought him loa esE an! he ha!, too, the solace of the !ates, which was then little an! paltry" But after this, the brethren, ha ing foun! out the spot, like chil!ren remembering their father, were an+ious to sen! things to himE but 3ntony saw that, in bringing him brea!, some there were put to trouble an! fatigueE an!, sparing the monks e en in that, took counsel with himself, an! aske! some who came to him to bring him a hoe an! a hatchet, an! a little cornE an! when these were brought, ha ing gone o er the lan! roun! the mountain, he foun! a ery narrow place which was suitable, an! tille! itE an!, ha ing plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowe!E an!, !oing this year by year, he got his brea! from thence, rejoicing that he shoul! be troublesome to no one on that account, an! that he was keeping himself free from obligation in all things" But after this, seeing again some people coming, he plante! also a ery few pot>herbs, that he who came might ha e some small solace after the labour of that har! journey" 3t first, howe er, the wil! beasts in the !esert, coming on account of the water, often hurt his crops an! his tillageE but he, gently laying hol! of one of them, sai! to them all, $(hy !o you hurt me, who ha e not hurt youJ #epart, an!, in the name of the <or!, ne er come near this place"$ 3n! from that time forwar!, as if they were afrai! of his comman!, they ne er came near the place" -o he was there alone in the inner mountain, ha ing leisure for prayer an! for training" But the brethren who ministere! to him aske! him that, coming e ery month, they might bring him oli es, an! pulse, an! oilE for, after all, he was ol!" 3n! while he ha! his con ersation there, what great wrestlings he en!ure!, accor!ing to that which is written, $Aot against flesh an! bloo!, but against the !aemons who are our a! ersaries,$ we ha e known from those who went in to him" )or there also they hear! tumults, an! many oices, an! clashing as of armsE an! they behel! the mount by night full of wil! beasts, an! they looke! on him, too, fighting, as it were, with beings whom he saw, an! praying against

them" 3n! those who came to him he ba!e be of goo! courage, but he himself wrestle!, ben!ing his knees, an! praying to the <or!" 3n! it was truly worthy of won!er that, alone in such a !esert, he was neither cowe! by the !aemons who beset him, nor, while there were there so many four>foote! an! creeping beasts, was at all afrai! of their fierceness2 but, as is written, truste! in the <or! like the Bount Pion, ha ing his reason unshaken an! untostE so that the !aemons rather fle!, an! the wil! beasts, as is written, were at peace with him" Ae ertheless, the !e il Ias #a i! singsK watche! 3ntony, an! gnashe! upon him with his teeth" But 3ntony was comforte! by the -a iour, remaining unhurt by his craft an! manifol! artifices" )or on him, when he was awake at night, he let loose wil! beastsE an! almost all the hyaenas in that !esert, coming out of their burrows, beset him roun!, an! he was in the mi!st" 3n! when each gape! on him an! threatene! to bite him, percei ing the art of the enemy, he sai! to them all, $%f ye ha e recei e! power against me, % am rea!y to be !e oure! by you2 but if ye ha e been set on by !aemons, !elay not, but with!raw, for % am a ser ant of Christ"$ (hen 3ntony sai! this, they fle!, pursue! by his wor!s as by a whip" Ae+t after a few !ays, as he was working>>for he took care, too, to labour>>some one stan!ing at the !oor pulle! the plait that he was working" )or he was wea ing baskets, which he use! to gi e to those who came, in return for what they brought him" 3n! rising up, he saw a beast, like a man !own to his thighs, but ha ing legs an! feet like an assE an! 3ntony only crosse! himself an! sai!, $% am a ser ant of Christ" %f thou hast been sent against me, behol!, here % am"$ 3n! the beast with its !aemons fle! away, so that in its haste it fell an! !ie!" Aow the !eath of the beast was the fall of the !aemons" )or they were eager to !o e erything to bring him back out of the !esert, but coul! not pre ail" 3n! being once aske! by the monks to come !own to them, an! to isit awhile them an! their places, he journeye! with the monks who came to meet him" 3n! a camel carrie! their loa es an! their waterE for that !esert is all !ry, an! there is no !rinkable water unless in that mountain alone whence they !rew their water, an! where his cell is" But when the water faile! on the journey, an! the heat was most intense, they all began to be in !angerE for going roun! to arious places, an! fin!ing no water, they coul! walk no more, but lay !own on the groun!, an! they let the camel go, an! ga e themsel es up" But the ol! man, seeing them all in !anger, was utterly grie e!, an! groane!E an! !eparting a little way from them, an! ben!ing his knees an! stretching out his han!s, he praye!, an! forthwith the <or! cause! water to come out where he ha! stoppe! an! praye!" 3n! thus all of them !rinking took breath againE an! ha ing fille! their skins, they sought the camel, an! foun! herE for it befell that the halter ha! been twiste! roun! a stone, an! thus she ha! been stoppe!" -o, ha ing brought her back, an! gi en her to !rink, they put the skins on her, an! went through their journey unharme!" 3n! when they came to the outer cells all embrace! him, looking on him as a father" 3n! he, as if he brought them guest>gifts from the mountain, ga e them away to them in his wor!s, an! share! his benefits among them" 3n! there was joy again in the mountains, an! Heal for impro ement, an! comfort through their faith in each other" 3n! he too rejoice!, seeing the willingness of the monks, an! his sister grown ol! in mai!enhoo!, an! herself the lea!er of other irgins" 3n! so after certain !ays he went back again to the mountain"

3n! after that many came to himE an! others who suffere! !are! also to come" Aow to all the monks who came to him he ga e continually this comman!2 To trust in the <or! an! lo e him, an! to keep themsel es from foul thoughts an! fleshly pleasuresE an!, as is written in the Parables, not to be !ecei e! by fulness of brea!E an! to a oi! aingloryE an! to pray continuallyE an! to sing before sleep an! after sleepE an! to lay by in their hearts the comman!ment of -criptureE an! to remember the works of the saints, in or!er to ha e their souls attune! to emulate them" But especially he counselle! them to me!itate continually on the 3postleGs saying, $<et not the sun go !own upon your wrathE$ an! this he sai! was spoken of all comman!ments in common, in or!er that not on wrath alone, but on e ery other sin, the sun shoul! ne er go !ownE for it was noble an! necessary that the sun shoul! ne er con!emn us for a baseness by !ay, nor the moon for a sin or e en a thought by nightE therefore, in or!er that that which is noble may be preser e! in us, it was goo! to hear an! to keep what the 3postle comman!e!2 for he sai!2 $@u!ge yoursel es, an! pro e yoursel es"$ <et each then take account with himself, !ay by !ay, of his !aily an! nightly !ee!sE an! if he has not sinne!, let him not boast, but let him en!ure in what is goo! an! not be negligent, neither con!emn his neighbour, neither justify himself, as sai! the blesse! 3postle Paul, until the <or! comes who searches secret things" )or we often !ecei e oursel es in what we !o, an! we in!ee! know not2 but the <or! comprehen!s all" Gi ing therefore the ju!gment to Him, let us sympathise with each otherE an! let us bear each otherGs bur!ens, an! e+amine oursel esE an! what we are behin! in, let us be eager to fill up" 3n! let this, too, be my counsel for safety against sinning" <et us each note an! write !own the !ee!s an! motions of the soul as if he were about to relate them to each otherE an! be confi!ent that, as we shall be utterly ashame! that they shoul! be known, we shall cease from sinning, an! e en from !esiring anything mean" )or who when he sins wishes to be harme! therebyJ ?r who, ha ing sinne!, !oes not rather lie, wishing to hi!e itJ 3s therefore when in each otherGs sight we !are not commit a crime, so if we write !own our thoughts, an! tell them to each other, we shall keep oursel es the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they shoul! be known" " " " 3n! thus forming oursel es we shall be able to bring the bo!y into sla ery, an! please the <or! on the one han!, an! on the other trample on the snares of the enemy"$ This was his e+hortation to those who met him2 but with those who suffere! he suffere!, an! praye! with them" 3n! often an! in many things the <or! hear! himE an! neither when he was hear! !i! he boastE nor when he was not hear! !i! he murmur2 but, remaining always the same, ga e thanks to the <or!" 3n! those who suffere! he e+horte! to keep up heart, an! to know that the power of cure was none of his, nor of any manGsE but only belonge! to Go!, who works when an! whatsoe er he chooses" -o the sufferers recei e! this as a reme!y, learning not to !espise the ol! manGs wor!s, but rather to keep up heartE an! those who were cure! learne! not to bless 3ntony, but Go! alone" )or instance, one calle! )ronto, who belonge! to the palace, an! ha! a grie ous !isease Ifor he gnawe! his own tongue, an! trie! to injure his eyesK, came to the mountain an! aske! 3ntony to pray for him" 3n! when he ha! praye! he sai! to )ronto, $#epart, an! be heale!"$ 3n! when he resiste!, an! remaine! within some !ays, 3ntony continue! saying, $Thou canst not be heale! if thou remainest hereE go forth, an! as soon as thou enterest Egypt, thou shalt see the sign which shall befall thee"$ He, belie ing, went forthE an! as soon as he only saw Egypt he was free! from his !isease, an! became soun! accor!ing to the wor! of 3ntony, which he ha! learnt by

prayer from the -a iour " " " 7Here follows a story of a girl cure! of a painful complaint2 nee! not be translate!"; which

But when two brethren were coming to him, an! water faile! them on the journey, one of them !ie!, an! the other was about to !ie" %n fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the groun! e+pecting !eath" But 3ntony, as he sat on the mountain, calle! two monks who happene! to be there, an! hastene! them, saying, $Take a pitcher of water, an! run on the roa! towar!s EgyptE for of two who are coming hither one has just e+pire!, an! the other will !o so if you !o not hasten" )or this has been showe! to me as % praye!"$ -o the monks going foun! the one lying !ea!, an! burie! himE an! the other they reco ere! with the water, an! brought him to the ol! man" Aow the !istance was a !ayGs journey" But if any one shoul! ask why he !i! not speak before one of them e+pire!, he !oes not Fuestion rightlyE for the ju!gment of that !eath !i! not belong to 3ntony, but to Go!, who both ju!ge! concerning the oneE an! re eale! concerning the other" But this alone in 3ntony was won!erful, that sitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, an! the <or! showe! him things afar off" )or once again, as he sat on the mountain an! looke! up, he saw some one carrie! aloft, an! a great rejoicing among some who met him" Then won!ering, an! blessing such a choir, he praye! to be taught what that might beE an! straightway a oice came to him that this was the soul of 3mmon, the monk in Aitria, LN5M who ha! perse ere! as an ascetic to his ol! ageE an! the !istance from Aitria to the mountain where 3ntony was, is thirteen !aysG journey" Those then who were with 3ntony, seeing the ol! man won!ering, aske! the reason, an! hear! that 3mmon ha! just e+pire!, for he was known to them on account of his ha ing freFuently come thither, an! many signs ha ing been worke! by him, of which this is one" " " " 7Here follows the story Iprobably an interpolationK of 3mmonGs being miraculously carrie! across the ri er <ycus, because he was ashame! to un!ress himself"; But the monks to whom 3ntony spoke about 3mmonGs !eath note! !own the !ayE an! when brethren came from Aitria after thirty !ays, they inFuire! an! learnt that 3mmon ha! fallen asleep at the !ay an! hour in which the ol! man saw his soul carrie! aloft" 3n! all on both si!es won!ere! at the purity of 3ntonyGs soulE how he ha! learnt an! seen instantly what ha! happene! thirteen !aysG journey off" Boreo er, 3rcheleas the Count, fin!ing him once in the outer mountain praying alone, aske! him concerning Polycratia, that won!erful an! Christ>bearing mai!en in <ao!iceaE for she suffere! !rea!ful internal pain from her e+treme training, an! was altogether weak in bo!y" 3ntony, therefore, praye!E an! the Count note! !own the !ay on which the prayer was offere!" 3n! going back to <ao!icea, he foun! the mai!en cure!E an! asking when an! on what !ay her mala!y ha! cease!, he brought out the paper on which he ha! written !own the !ate of the prayer" 3n! when she tol! him, he showe! at once the writing on the paper" 3n! all foun! that the <or! ha! stoppe! her sufferings while 3ntony was still praying an! calling for her on the goo!ness of the -a iour" 3n! concerning those who came to him, he often pre!icte! some !ays, or e en a month, beforehan!, an! the cause why they were coming"

)or some came only to see him, an! others on account of sickness, an! others because they suffere! from !aemons, an! all thought the labour of the journey no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware that he ha! been benefite!" 3n! when he spoke an! looke! thus, he aske! no one to mar el at him on that account, but to mar el rather at the <or!, because he ha! gi en us, who are but men, grace to know him accor!ing to our powers" 3n! as he was going !own again to the outer cells, an! was min!e! to enter a boat an! pray with the monks, he alone percei e! a !rea!fully e il o!our, an! when those in the boat tol! him that they ha! fish an! brine on boar!, an! that it was they which smelt, he sai! that it was a !ifferent smellE an! while he was yet speaking, a youth, who ha! an e il spirit, ha! gone before them an! hi!!en in the boat, su!!enly crie! out" But the !aemon, being rebuke! in the name of our <or! @esus Christ, went out of him, an! the man became whole, an! all knew that the smell ha! come from the e il spirit" 3n! there was another man of high rank who came to him, ha ing a !aemon, an! one so terrible, that the possesse! man !i! not know that he was going to 3ntony, but 7showe! the common symptoms of mania;" Those who brought him entreate! 3ntony to pray o er him, which he !i!, feeling for the young man, an! he watche! besi!e him all night" But about !awn, the young man, su!!enly rushing on 3ntony, assaulte! him" (hen those who came with him were in!ignant, 3ntony sai!, $Be not har! upon the youth, for it is not he, but the !aemon in himE an! because he has been rebuke!, an! comman!e! to go forth into !ry places, he has become furious, an! !one this" Glorify, therefore, the <or! for his ha ing thus rushe! upon me, as a sign to you that the !aemon is going out"$ 3n! as 3ntony sai! this, the youth su!!enly became soun!, an!, reco ering his reason, knew where he was, an! embrace! the ol! man, gi ing thanks to Go!" 3n! most of the monks agree unanimously that many like things were !one by him2 yet are they not so won!erful as what follows" )or once, when he was going to eat, an! rose up to pray about the ninth hour, he felt himself rapt in spiritE an! Iwon!erful to relateK as he stoo! he saw himself as it were taken out of himself, an! le! into the air by some personsE an! then others, bitter an! terrible, stan!ing in the air, an! trying to pre ent his passing upwar!s" 3n! when those who le! him fought against them, they !eman!e! whether he was not accountable to them" 3n! when they began to take account of his !ee!s from his birth, his gui!es stoppe! them, saying, $(hat happene! from his birth upwar!s, the <or! hath wipe! out2 but of what has happene! since he became a monk, an! ma!e a promise to Go!, of that you may !eman! an account"$ Then, when they brought accusations against him, an! coul! not pro e them, the roa! was opene! freely to him" 3n! straightway he saw himself as if coming back an! stan!ing before himself, an! was 3ntony once more" Then, forgetting that he ha! not eaten, he remaine! the rest of the !ay an! all night groaning an! praying, for he won!ere! when he saw against how many enemies we must wrestle, an! through how many labours a man must tra erse the airE an! he remembere! that it is this which the 3postle means with regar! to the Prince of the power of the airE for it is in the air that the enemy has his power, fighting against those who pass through it, an! trying to hin!er them" (herefore, also he especially e+horts us2 $Take the whole armour of Go!, that the enemy, ha ing no e il to say about us, may be ashame!"$ But when we hear! this, we remembere! the 3postleGs saying, $(hether in the bo!y % cannot tell, or out of the bo!y % cannot tell2 Go! knoweth"$ But Paul was caught up into the thir! hea en, an!, ha ing hear! unspeakable wor!s, !escen!e! againE but 3ntony saw himself rapt in the air, an! wrestling till he seeme! to be free"

3gain, he ha! this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the mountain, if at any time he was puHHle! in himself, the thing was re eale! to him by Pro i!ence as he praye!E an! the blesse! man was, as -cripture says, taught of Go!" 3fter this, at all e ents, when he ha! been talking with some who came to him concerning the !eparture of the soul, an! what woul! be its place after this life, the ne+t night some one calle! him from without, an! sai!, $,ise up, 3ntonyE come out an! see"$ -o coming out Ifor he knew whom he ought to obeyK, he behel! a tall being, shapeless an! terrible, stan!ing an! reaching to the clou!s, an! as it were winge! beings ascen!ingE an! him stretching out his han!sE an! some of them hin!ere! by him, an! others flying abo e him, an! when they ha! once passe! him, borne upwar!s without trouble" But against them that tall being gnashe! his teeth, while o er those who fell, he rejoice!" 3n! there came a oice to 3ntony, $Consi!er what thou seest"$ 3n! when his un!erstan!ing was opene!, he percei e! that it was the enemy who en ies the faithful, an! that those who were in his power he mastere! an! hin!ere! from passingE but that those who ha! not obeye! him, o er them, as o er conFuerors, he ha! no power" Ha ing seen this, an! as it were ma!e min!ful by it, he struggle! more an! more !aily to impro e" Aow these things he !i! not tell of his own accor!E but when he was long in prayer, an! astonishe! in himself, those who were with him Fuestione! him an! urge! himE an! he was force! to tellE unable, as a father, to hi!e anything from his chil!renE an! consi!ering, too, that his own conscience was clear, an! the story woul! be profitable for them, when they learne! that the life of training bore goo! fruit, an! that isions often came as a solace of their toils" But how tolerant was his temper, an! how humble his spiritE for though he was so great, he both honoure! e+cee!ingly the canon of the Church, an! wishe! to put e ery ecclesiastic before himself in honour" )or to the bishops an! presbyters he was not ashame! to bow his hea!E an! if a !eacon e er came to him for the sake of profit, he !iscourse! with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he ga e place to him, not being ashame! e en himself to learn from him" LN6M )or he often aske! Fuestions, an! !eigne! to listen to all present, confessing that he was profite! if any one sai! aught that was useful" Boreo er, his countenance ha! great an! won!erful graceE an! this gift too he ha! from the -a iour" )or if he was present among the multitu!e of monks, an! any one who !i! not pre iously know him wishe! to see him, as soon as he came he passe! by all the rest, an! ran to 3ntony himself, as if attracte! by his eyes" He !i! not !iffer from the rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the stea!iness of his temper, an! purity of his soulE for as his soul was un!isturbe!, his outwar! senses were un!isturbe! likewise, so that the cheerfulness of his soul ma!e his face cheerful, an! from the mo ements of his bo!y the ste!fastness of his soul coul! be percei e!, accor!ing to the -cripture, $(hen the heart is cheerful the countenance is gla!E but when sorrow comes it scowleth"$ " " " 3n! he was altogether won!erful in faith, an! pious, for he ne er communicate! with the Beletian LNNaM schismatics, knowing their malice an! apostasy from the beginningE nor !i! he con erse amicably with Banichaeans or any other heretics, sa e only to e+hort them to be con erte! to piety" )or he hel! that their frien!ship an! con erse was injury an! ruin to the soul" -o also he !eteste! the heresy of the 3rians, an! e+horte! all not to approach them, nor hol! their misbelief" LNNbM %n fact, when certain of the 3riomanites came to him, ha ing !iscerne! them an! foun! them impious, he chase! them out of the mountain, saying that their wor!s were worse than serpentGs poisonE an! when the 3rians once preten!e!

that he was of the same opinion as they, he was in!ignant an! fierce against them" Then being sent for by the bishops an! all the brethren, he went !own from the mountain, an! entering 3le+an!ria he !enounce! the 3rians, saying, that that was the last heresy, an! the forerunner of 3ntichristE an! he taught the people that the -on of Go! was not a create! thing, neither ma!e from nought, but that he is the Eternal (or! an! (is!om of the Essence of the )atherE wherefore also it is impious to say there was a time when he was not, for he was always the (or! co>e+istent with the )ather" (herefore he sai!, $#o not ha e any communication with these most impious 3riansE for there is no communion between light an! !arkness" )or you are pious Christians2 but they, when they say that the -on of Go! an! the (or!, who is from the )ather, is a create! being, !iffer nought from the heathen, because they worship the creature instea! of Go! the Creator" LN0M Belie e rather that the whole creation itself is in!ignant against them, because they number the Creator an! <or! of all, in whom all things are ma!e, among create! things"$ 3ll the people therefore rejoice! at hearing that Christ>opposing heresy anathematiHe! by such a manE an! all those in the city ran together to see 3ntony an! the Greeks, LN9aM an! those who are calle! their priests LN9bM came into the church, wishing to see the man of Go!E for all calle! him by that name, because there the <or! cleanse! many by him from !aemons, an! heale! those who were out of their min!" 3n! many heathens wishe! only to touch the ol! man, belie ing that it woul! be of use to themE an! in fact as many became Christians in those few !ays, as woul! ha e been usually con erte! in a year" 3n! when some thought that the crow! trouble! him, an! therefore turne! all away from him, he Fuietly sai! that they were not more numerous than the fien!s with whom he wrestle! on the mountain" But when he left the city, an! we were setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate a certain woman calle! to him2 $(ait, man of Go!, my !aughter is grie ously e+e! with a !e ilE wait, % beseech thee, lest % too harm myself with running after thee"$ The ol! man hearing it, an! being aske! by us, waite! willingly" But when the woman !rew near, the chil! !ashe! itself on the groun!E an! when 3ntony praye! an! calle! on the name of Christ, it rose up soun!, the unclean spirit ha ing gone outE an! the mother blesse! Go!, an! we all ga e thanks2 an! he himself rejoice! at lea ing the city for the mountain, as for his own home" Aow he was ery pru!entE an! what was won!erful, though he ha! ne er learnt letters, he was a shrew! an! un!erstan!ing man" ?nce, for e+ample, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they coul! tempt 3ntony" 3n! he was in the outer mountainE an! when he went out to them, un!erstan!ing the men from their countenances, he sai! through an interpreter, $(hy ha e you trouble! yoursel es so much, philosophers, to come to a foolish manJ$ 3n! when they answere! that he was not foolish, but rather ery wise, he sai!, $%f you ha e come to a fool, your labour is superfluous, but if ye think me to be wise, become as % amE for we ought to copy what is goo!, an! if % ha! come to you, % shoul! ha e copie! youE but if you come to me, copy me, for % am a Christian"$ 3n! they won!ering went their way, for they saw that e en !aemons were afrai! of 3ntony" 3n! again when others of the same class met him in the outer mountain, an! thought to mock him, because he ha! not learnt letters, 3ntony answere!, $But what !o you sayJ which is first, the sense or the lettersJ 3n! which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the letters of the senseJ$ 3n! when they sai! that the sense came first, an! in ente! the letters, 3ntony replie!, $%f then the sense be soun!, the letters are not nee!e!"$

(hich struck them, an! those present, with astonishment" -o they went away won!ering, when they saw so much un!erstan!ing in an unlearne! man" )or though he ha! li e! an! grown ol! in the mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful an! urbaneE an! his speech was seasone! with the !i ine salt, so that no man gru!ge! at him, but rather rejoice! o er him, as many as came" " " " 7Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attribute! to -t" 3ntony, but of ery Fuestionable authenticity2 the only point about it which is worthy of note is that 3ntony confutes the philosophers by challenging them to cure some possesse! persons, an!, when they are unable to !o so, casts out the !aemons himself by the sign of the cross"; The fame of 3ntony reache! e en the kings, for Constantinus the 3ugustus, an! his sons, Constantius an! Constans, the 3ugusti, hearing of these things, wrote to him as to a father, an! begge! to recei e an answer from him" But he !i! not make much of the letters, nor was puffe! up by their messagesE an! he was just the same as he was before the kings wrote to him" 3n! he calle! his monks an! sai!, $(on!er not if a king writes to us, for he is but a man2 but won!er rather that Go! has written his law to man, an! spoken to us by his own -on"$ -o he !ecline! to recei e their letters, saying he !i! not know how to write an answer to such thingsE but being a!monishe! by the monks that the kings were Christians, an! that they must not be scan!aliHe! by being !espise!, he permitte! the letters to be rea!, an! wrote an answerE accepting them because they worshippe! Christ, an! counselling them, for their sal ation, not to think the present life great, but rather to remember ju!gment to comeE an! to know that Christ was the only true an! eternal kingE an! he begge! them to be merciful to men, an! to think of justice an! the poor" 3n! they, when they recei e! the answer, rejoice!" Thus was he kin!ly towar!s all, an! all looke! on him as their father" He then betook himself again into the inner mountain, an! continue! his accustome! training" But often, when he was sitting an! walking with those who came unto him, he was astoun!e!, as is written in #aniel" 3n! after the space of an hour, he tol! what ha! befallen to the brethren who were with him, an! they percei e! that he ha! seen some ision" ?ften he saw in the mountain what was happening in Egypt, an! tol! it to -erapion the bishop, who saw him occupie! with a ision" ?nce, for instance, as he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, an! groane! much at what he saw" Then, after an hour, turning to those who were with him, he groane! an! fell into a trembling, an! rose up an! praye!, an! ben!ing his knees, remaine! so a long whileE an! then the ol! man rose up an! wept" The bystan!ers, therefore, trembling an! altogether terrifie!, aske! him to tell them what ha! happene!, an! tormente! him much, that he was force! to speak" 3n! he groaning greatly>>$3h1 my chil!ren,$ he sai!, $it were better to be !ea! before what % ha e seen shall come to pass"$ 3n! when they aske! him again, he sai! with tears, that $(rath will seiHe on the Church, an! she will be gi en o er to men like unto brutes, which ha e no un!erstan!ingE for % saw the table of the <or!Gs house, an! mules stan!ing all aroun! it in a ring an! kicking inwar!s, as a her! !oes when it leaps in confusionE an! ye all percei e! how % groane!, for % hear! a oice saying, GBy sanctuary shall be !efile!"G$ This the ol! man saw, an! after two years there befell the present inroa! of the 3rians, L04aM an! the plun!er of the churches, when they carrie! off the holy essels by iolence, an! ma!e the heathen carry them2 an! when too they force! the heathens from the prisons

to join them, an! in their presence !i! on the holy table what they woul!" L04bM Then we all percei e! that the kicks of those mules presignifie! to 3ntony what the 3rians are now !oing without un!erstan!ing, like the brutes" But when 3ntony saw this sight, he e+horte! those about him, saying, $<ose not heart, chil!renE for as the <or! has been angry, so will he again be appease!, an! the Church shall soon recei e again her own or!er an! shine forth as she is wontE an! ye shall see the persecute! restore! to their place, an! impiety retreating again into its own !ens, an! the pious faith speaking bol!ly e erywhere with all free!om" ?nly !efile not yoursel es with the 3rians, for this teaching is not of the 3postle but of the !aemons, an! of their father the !e il2 barren an! irrational an! of an unsoun! min!, like the irrational !ee!s of those mules"$ Thus spoke 3ntony" But we must not !oubt whether so great won!ers ha e been !one by a manE for the -a iourGs promise is, $%f ye ha e faith as a grain of mustar!>see!, ye shall say to this mountain, Pass o er from hence, it shall pass o er, an! nothing shall be impossible to youE$ an! again, $*erily, erily, % say unto you, if ye shall ask my )ather in my name, he shall gi e it you" 3sk, an! ye shall recei e"$ 3n! he himself it is who sai! to his !isciples an! to all who belie e in him, $Heal the sick, cast out !e ilsE freely ye ha e recei e!, freely gi e"$ 3n! certainly 3ntony !i! not heal by his own authority, but by praying an! calling on ChristE so that it was plain to all that it was not he who !i! it, but the <or!, who through 3ntony showe! lo e to men, an! heale! the sufferers" But 3ntonyGs part was only the prayer an! the training, for the sake whereof, sitting in the mountain, he rejoice! in the sight of !i ine things, an! grie e! when he was tormente! by many, an! !ragge! to the outer mountain" )or all the magistrates aske! him to come !own from the mountain, because it was impossible for them to go in thither to him on account of the litigants who followe! himE so they begge! him to come, that they might only behol! him" 3n! when he !ecline! they insiste!, an! e en sent in to him prisoners un!er the charge of sol!iers, that at least on their account he might come !own" -o being force! by necessity, an! seeing them lamenting, he came to the outer mountain" 3n! his labour this time too was profitable to many, an! his coming for their goo!" To the magistrates, too, he was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to all things, an! to fear Go!, an! to know that with what ju!gment they ju!ge! they shoul! be ju!ge! in turn" But he lo e! best of all his life in the mountain" ?nce again, when he was compelle! in the same way to lea e it, by those who were in want, an! by the general of the sol!iers, who entreate! him earnestly, he came !own, an! ha ing spoken to them somewhat of the things which con!uce! to sal ation, he was presse! also by those who were in nee!" But being aske! by the general to lengthen his stay, he refuse!, an! persua!e! him by a graceful parable, saying, $)ishes, if they lie long on the !ry lan!, !ieE so monks who stay with you lose their strength" 3s the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must we to the mountain, lest if we !elay we shoul! forget what is within"$ The general, hearing this an! much more from him, sai! with surprise that he was truly a ser ant of Go!, for whence coul! an unlearne! man ha e so great sense if he were not lo e! by Go!J 3nother general, name! Balacius, bitterly persecute! us Christians on account of his affection for those abominable 3rians" His cruelty was so great that he e en beat nuns, an! strippe! an!

scourge! monks" 3ntony sent him a letter to this effect2>>$% see wrath coming upon thee" Cease, therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay hol! upon thee, for it is near at han!"$ But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the groun! an! spat on itE an! insulte! those who brought it, bi!!ing them tell 3ntony, $-ince thou carest for monks, % will soon come after thee likewise"$ 3n! not fi e !ays ha! passe!, when the wrath lai! hol! on him" )or Balacius himself, an! Aestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to the first station from 3le+an!ria, which is calle! ChaereasGs" Both of them were ri!ing on horses belonging to Balacius, an! the most gentle in all his stu!2 but before they ha! got to the place, the horses began playing with each other, as is their wont, an! su!!enly the more gentle of the two, on which Aestorius was ri!ing, attacke! Balacius an! pulle! him off with his teeth, an! so tore his thigh that he was carrie! back to the city, an! !ie! in three !ays" 3n! all won!ere! that what 3ntony ha! so won!erfully foretol! was so Fuickly fulfille!" These were his warnings to the more cruel" But the rest who came to him he so instructe! that they ga e up at once their lawsuits, an! blesse! those who ha! retire! from this life" 3n! those who ha! been unjustly use! he so protecte! that you woul! think he an! not they was the sufferer" 3n! he was so able to be of use to allE so that many who were ser ing in the army, an! many wealthy men, lai! asi!e the bur!ens of life an! became thenceforth monksE an! altogether he was like a physician gi en by Go! to Egypt" )or who met him grie ing, an! !i! not go away rejoicingJ (ho came mourning o er his !ea!, an! !i! not forthwith lay asi!e his griefJ (ho came wrathful, an! was not con erte! to frien!shipJ (hat poor man came wearie! out, an! when he saw an! hear! him !i! not !espise wealth an! comfort himself in his po ertyJ (hat monk who ha! grown remiss, was not strengthene! by coming to himJ (hat young man coming to the mountain an! looking upon 3ntony, !i! not forthwith renounce pleasure an! lo e temperanceJ (ho came to him tempte! by !e ils, an! !i! not get restJ (ho came trouble! by !oubts, an! !i! not get peace of min!J )or this was the great thing in 3ntonyGs asceticism, that Ias % ha e sai! beforeK, ha ing the gift of !iscerning spirits, he un!erstoo! their mo ements, an! knew in what !irection each of them turne! his en!ea ours an! his attacks" 3n! not only he was not !ecei e! by them himself, but he taught those who were trouble! in min! how they might turn asi!e the plots of !aemons, teaching them the weakness an! the craft of their enemies" How many mai!ens, too, who ha! been alrea!y betrothe!, an! only saw 3ntony from afar, remaine! unmarrie! for ChristGs sake1 -ome, too, came from foreign parts to him, an! all, ha ing gaine! some benefit, went back from him as from a father" 3n! now he has fallen asleep, all are as orphans who ha e lost a parent, consoling themsel es with his memory alone, keeping his instructions an! e+hortations" But what the en! of his life was like, it is fit that % shoul! relate, an! you hear eagerly" )or it too is worthy of emulation" He was isiting, accor!ing to his wont, the monks in the outer mountain, an! ha ing learne! from Pro i!ence concerning his own en!, he sai! to the brethren, $This isit to you is my last, an! % won!er if we shall see each other again in this life" %t is time for me to set sail, for % am near a hun!re! an! fi e years ol!"$ 3n! when they hear! that they wept, an! embrace! an! kisse! the ol! man" 3n! he, as if he was setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke joyfully, an! e+horte! them not to grow i!le in their labours or cowar!ly in their training, but to li e as those who !ie! !aily, an! Ias % sai! beforeK to be earnest in keeping their souls from foul thoughts, an! to emulate the saints, an! not to !raw near the Beletian schismatics, for $ye know their e il an! profane !eterminations, nor

to ha e any communion with the 3rians, for their impiety also is manifest to all" Aeither if ye shall see the magistrates patronising them, be trouble!, for their phantasy shall ha e an en!, an! is mortal an! only for a little while" Keep yoursel es therefore rather clean from them, an! hol! that which has been han!e! !own to you by the fathers, an! especially the faith in our <or! @esus Christ which ye ha e learne! from -cripture, an! of which ye ha e often been remin!e! by me"$ 3n! when the brethren trie! to force him to stay with them an! make his en! there, he woul! not en!ure it, on many accounts, as he showe! by his silenceE an! especially on this2>>The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of goo! persons, an! especially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them un!ergroun!, but to lay them upon benches an! keep them in their housesE L00M thinking that by this they honour the !eparte!" Aow 3ntony ha! often aske! the bishops to e+hort the people about this, an! in like manner he himself rebuke! the laity an! terrifie! the womenE saying that it was a thing neither lawful nor in any way holyE for that the bo!ies of the patriarchs an! prophets are to this !ay preser e! in sepulchres, an! that the ery bo!y of our <or! was lai! in a sepulchre, an! a stone place! o er it to hi!e it, till he rose the thir! !ay" 3n! thus saying he showe! that those broke the law who !i! not bury the corpses of the !ea!, e en if they were holyE for what is greater or more holy than the <or!Gs bo!yJ Bany, then, when they hear! him, burie! thenceforth un!ergroun!E an! blesse! the <or! that they ha! been taught rightly" Being then aware of this, an! afrai! lest they shoul! !o the same by his bo!y, he hurrie! himself, an! ba!e farewell to the monks in the outer mountainE an! coming to the inner mountain, where he was wont to abi!e, after a few months he grew sick, an! calling those who were by>>an! there were two of them who ha! remaine! there within fifteen years, e+ercising themsel es an! ministering to him on account of his ol! age>>he sai! to them, $% in!ee! go the way of the fathers, as it is written, for % percei e that % am calle! by the <or!"$ " " " 7Then follows a general e+hortation to the monk, almost i!entical with much that has gone before, an! en!ing by a comman! that his bo!y shoul! be burie! in the groun!"; $3n! let this wor! of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall know the place, sa e you alone, for % shall recei e it Imy bo!yK incorruptible from my -a iour in the resurrection of the !ea!" 3n! !istribute my garments thus" To 3thanasius the bishop gi e one of my sheepskins, an! the cloak un!er me, which was new when he ga e it me, an! has grown ol! by meE an! to -erapion the bishop gi e the other sheepskinE an! !o you ha e the hair>cloth garment" 3n! for the rest, chil!ren, farewell, for 3ntony is going, an! is with you no more"$ -aying thus, when they ha! embrace! him, he stretche! out his feet, an!, as if he saw frien!s coming to him, an! grew joyful on their account Ifor, as he lay, his countenance was brightK, he !eparte! an! was gathere! to his fathers" 3n! they forthwith, as he ha! comman!e! them, preparing the bo!y an! wrapping it up, hi! it un!er groun!2 an! no one knows to this !ay where it is hi!!en, sa e those two ser ants only" 3n! each Ii"e" 3thanasius an! -erapionK ha ing recei e! the sheepskin of the blesse! 3ntony, an! the cloak which he ha! worn out, keeps them as a great possession" )or he who looks on them, as it were, sees 3ntonyE an! he who puts them on, wears them with joy, as he !oes 3ntonyGs counsels"

-uch was the en! of 3ntony in the bo!y, an! such the beginning of his training" 3n! if these things are small in comparison with his irtue, yet reckon up from these things how great was 3ntony, the man of Go!, who kept unchange!, from his youth up to so great an age, the earnestness of his trainingE an! was neither worste! in his ol! age by the !esire of more !elicate foo!, nor on account of the weakness of his bo!y altere! the Fuality of his garment, nor e en washe! his feet with waterE an! yet remaine! uninjure! in all his limbs2 for his eyes were un!imme! an! whole, so that he saw wellE an! not one of his teeth ha! fallen out, but they were only worn !own to his gums on account of his great ageE an! he remaine! soun! in han! an! footE an!, in a wor!, appeare! ru!!ier an! more rea!y for e+ertion than all who use arious meats an! baths, an! !ifferent !resses" But that this man shoul! be celebrate! e erywhere an! won!ere! at by all, an! regrette! e en by those who ne er saw him, is a proof of his irtue, an! that his soul was !ear to Go!" )or 3ntony became known not by writings, not from the wis!om that is from without, not by any art, but by piety aloneE an! that this was the gift of Go!, none can !eny" )or how as far as -pain, as Gaul, as ,ome, as 3frica, coul! he ha e been hear!, hi!!en as he was in a mountain, if it ha! not been for Go!, who makes known his own men e erywhere, an! who ha! promise! 3ntony this from the beginningJ )or e en if they !o their !ee!s in secret, an! wish to be conceale!, yet the <or! shows them as lights to all, that so those who hear of them may know that the comman!ments suffice to put men in the right way, an! may grow Healous of the path of irtue" ,ea! then these things to the other brethren, that they may learn what the life of monks shoul! be, an! may belie e that the <or! @esus Christ our -a iour will glorify those who glorify him, an! that those who ser e him to the en! he will not only bring to the king!om of hea en, but that e en if on earth they hi!e themsel es an! stri e to get out of the way, he will make them manifest an! celebrate! e erywhere, for the sake of their own irtue, an! for the benefit of others" But if nee! be, rea! this also to the heathens, that e en thus they may learn that our <or! @esus Christ is not only <or! an! the -on of Go!, but that those who truly ser e him, an! belie e piously on him, not only pro e that those !aemons whom the Greeks think are go!s to be no go!s, but e en trea! them un!er foot, an! chase them out as !ecei ers an! corrupters of men, through @esus Christ our <or!, to whom be glory an! honour for e er an! e er" 3men" Thus en!s this strange story" (hat we are to think of the miracles an! won!ers containe! in it, will be !iscusse! at a later point in this book" Beanwhile there is a stranger story still connecte! with the life of -t" 3ntony" %t professes to ha e been tol! by him himself to his monksE an! whate er groun!work of fact there may be in it is !oubtless his" The form in which we ha e it was gi en it by the famous -t" @erome, who sen!s the tale as a letter to 3sella, one of the many noble ,oman la!ies whom he persua!e! to embrace the monastic life" The style is as well worth preser ing as the matter" %ts rugge!ness an! awkwar!ness, its ambition an! affectation, contraste! with the graceful simplicity of 3thanasiusGs $<ife of 3ntony,$ mark well the !ifference between the culti ate! Greek an! the ungraceful an! half>barbarous ,oman of the later Empire" % ha e, therefore, gi en it as literally as possible, that rea!ers may ju!ge for themsel es how some of the Great )athers of the fifth century wrote, an! what they belie e!"

THE <%)E ?) -3%AT P3=<, THE )%,-T HE,B%T

B& THE #%*%AE H%E,?A&B=- THE P,%E-T" P,?<?G=E

I-T"

@E,?BE"K

Bany ha e often !oubte! by which of the monks the !esert was first inhabite!" )or some, looking for the beginnings of Bonachism in earlier ages, ha e !e!uce! it from the blesse! Elias an! @ohnE of whom Elias seems to us to ha e been rather a prophet than a monkE an! @ohn to ha e begun to prophesy before he was born" But others Ian opinion in which all the common people are agree!K assert that 3ntony was the hea! of this rule of life, which is partly true" )or he was not so much himself the first of all, as the man who e+cite! the earnestness of all" But 3mathas an! Bacarius, 3ntonyGs !isciples Ithe former of whom burie! his masterGs bo!yK, e en now affirm that a certain Paul, a Theban, was the beginner of the matterE which Inot so much in name as in opinionK we also hol! to be true" -ome scatter about, as the fancy takes them, both this an! other storiesE in enting incre!ible tales of a man in a subterranean ca e, hairy !own to his heels, an! many other things, which it is te!ious to follow out" )or, as their lie is shameless, their opinion !oes not seem worth refuting" Therefore, because careful accounts of 3ntony, both in Greek an! ,oman style, ha e been han!e! !own, % ha e !etermine! to write a little about the beginning an! en! of PaulGs lifeE more because the matter has been omitte!, than trusting to my own wit" But how he li e! !uring mi!!le life, or what stratagems of -atan he en!ure!, is known to none" THE <%)E ?) P3=< =n!er #ecius an! *alerius, the persecutors, at the time when Cornelius at ,ome, an! Cyprian at Carthage, were con!emne! in blesse! bloo!, a cruel tempest swept o er many Churches in Egypt an! the Thebai!" Christian subjects in those !ays longe! to be smitten with the swor! for the name of Christ" But the crafty enemy, seeking out punishments which !elaye! !eath, longe! to slay souls, not bo!ies" 3n! as Cyprian himself Iwho suffere! by himK says2 $(hen they longe! to !ie, they were not allowe! to be slain"$ %n or!er to make his cruelty better known, we ha e set !own two e+amples for remembrance" 3 martyr, perse ering in the faith, an! conFueror ami! racks an! re!>hot irons, he comman!e! to be anointe! with honey an! lai! on his back un!er a burning sun, with his han!s tie! behin! himE in or!er, forsooth, that he who ha! alrea!y conFuere! the fiery gri!iron, might yiel! to the stings of flies" ' ' '

%n those both his marrie!E Egyptian storm of

!ays, in the <ower Thebai!, was Paul left at the !eath of parents, in a rich inheritance, with a sister alrea!y being about fifteen years ol!, well taught in Greek an! letters, gentle tempere!, lo ing Go! muchE an!, when the persecution burst, he with!rew into a !istant city" But

$To what !ost thou not urge the human breast Curst hunger after gol!J$ His sisterGs husban! was rea!y to betray him whom he shoul! ha e conceale!" Aeither the tears of his wife, the tie of bloo!, or Go! who looks on all things from on high, coul! call him back from his crime" He was at han!, rea!y to seiHe him, making piety a prete+t for cruelty" The boy !isco ere! it, an! fle! into the !esert hills" ?nce there he change! nee! into pleasure, an! going on, an! then stopping awhile, again an! again, reache! at last a stony cliff, at the foot whereof was, nigh at han!, a great ca e, its mouth close! with a stone" Ha ing mo e! which away Ias manGs longing is to know the hi!!enK, e+ploring more gree!ily, he sees within a great hall, open to the sky abo e, but sha!e! by the sprea!ing boughs of an ancient palmE an! in it a clear spring, the rill from which, flowing a short space forth, was sucke! up again by the same soil which ha! gi en it birth" There were besi!es in that ca ernous mountain not a few !wellings, in which he saw rusty an ils an! hammers, with which coin ha! been stampe! of ol!" )or this place Iso books sayK was the workshop for base coin in the !ays when 3ntony li e! with Cleopatra" Therefore, in this belo e! !welling, offere! him as it were by Go!, he spent all his life in prayer an! solitu!e, while the palm>tree ga e him foo! an! clothesE which lest it shoul! seem impossible to some, % call @esus an! his holy angels to witness that % ha e seen monks one of whom, shut up for thirty years, li e! on barley brea! an! mu!!y waterE another in an ol! cistern, which in the country speech they call the -yrianGs be!, was kept ali e on fi e figs each !ay" These things, therefore, will seem incre!ible to those who !o not belie eE for to those who !o belie e all things are possible" But to return thither whence % !igresse!" (hen the blesse! Paul ha! been lea!ing the hea enly life on earth for ..: years, an! 3ntony, ninety years ol!, was !welling in another solitu!e, this thought Iso 3ntony was wont to assertK entere! his min!>>that no monk more perfect than he ha! settle! in the !esert" But as he lay still by night, it was re eale! to him that there was another monk beyon! him far better than he, to isit whom he must set out" -o when the light broke, the enerable ol! man, supporting his weak limbs on a staff, began to will to go, he knew not whither" 3n! now the mi! !ay, with the sun roasting abo e, grew fierceE an! yet he was not turne! from the journey he ha! begun, saying, $% trust in my Go!, that he will show his ser ant that which he has promise!"$ 3n! as he spake, he sees a man half horse, to whom the poets ha e gi en the name of Hippocentaur" -eeing whom, he crosses his forehea! with the salutary impression of the Cross, an!, $Here1$ he says, $in what part here !oes a ser ant of Go! !wellJ$ But he, growling % know not what barbarous soun!, an! grin!ing rather than uttering, the wor!s, attempte! a courteous speech from lips rough with bristles, an!, stretching out his right han!, pointe! to the wayE then, fleeing swiftly across the open plains, anishe! from the eyes of the won!ering 3ntony" But whether the !e il took this form to terrify

himE or whether the !esert, fertile Ias is its wontK in monstrous animals, begets that beast likewise, we hol! as uncertain" -o 3ntony, astonishe!, an! thinking o er what he ha! seen, goes forwar!" -oon afterwar!s, he sees in a stony alley a short manikin, with crooke! nose an! brow rough with horns, whose lower parts en!e! in goatGs feet" =n!ismaye! by this spectacle likewise, 3ntony seiHe!, like a goo! warrior, the shiel! of faith an! habergeon of hopeE the animal, howe er, was bringing him !ates, as foo! for his journey, an! a ple!ge of peace" (hen he saw that, 3ntony pushe! on, an!, asking him who he was, was answere!, $% am a mortal, an! one of the inhabitants of the !esert, whom the Gentiles, !elu!e! by arious errors, worship by the name of )auns, -atyrs, an! %ncubi" % come as ambassa!or from our her!, that thou mayest pray for us to the common Go!, who, we know, has come for the sal ation of the worl!, an! his soun! is gone out into all lan!s"$ 3s he spoke thus, the age! wayfarer be!ewe! his face plenteously with tears, which the greatness of his joy ha! poure! forth as signs of his heart" )or he rejoice! at the glory of Christ, an! the !estruction of -atanE an!, won!ering at the same time that he coul! un!erstan! the creatureGs speech, he smote on the groun! with his staff, an! sai!, $(oe to thee, 3le+an!ria, who worshippest portents instea! of Go!1 (oe to thee, harlot city, into which all the !emons of the worl! ha e flowe! together1 (hat wilt thou say nowJ Beasts talk of Christ, an! thou worshippest portents instea! of Go!"$ He ha! har!ly finishe! his wor!s, when the swift beast fle! away as upon wings" <est this shoul! mo e a scruple in any one on account of its incre!ibility, it was corroborate!, in the reign of Constantine, by the testimony of the whole worl!" )or a man of that kin!, being le! ali e to 3le+an!ria, affor!e! a great spectacle to the peopleE an! afterwar!s the lifeless carcase, being salte! lest it shoul! !ecay in the summer heat, was brought to 3ntioch, to be seen by the Emperor" But>>to go on with my tale>>3ntony went on through that region, seeing only the tracks of wil! beasts, an! the wi!e waste of the !esert" (hat he shoul! !o, or whither turn, he knew not" 3 secon! !ay ha! now run by" ?ne thing remaine!, to be confi!ent that he coul! not be !eserte! by Christ" 3ll night through he spent a secon! !arkness in prayer, an! while the light was still !im, he sees afar a she>wolf, panting with heat an! thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain" )ollowing her with his eyes, an! !rawing nigh to the ca e when the beast was gone, he began to look in2 but in ainE for the !arkness stoppe! his iew" Howe er, as the -cripture saith, perfect lo e casteth out fearE with gentle step an! bate! breath the cunning e+plorer entere!, an! going forwar! slowly, an! stopping often, watche! for a soun!" 3t length he saw afar off a light through the horror of the !arknessE hastene! on more gree!ilyE struck his foot against a stoneE an! ma!e a noise, at which the blesse! Paul shut an! barre! his !oor, which ha! stoo! open" Then 3ntony, casting himself !own before the entrance, praye! there till the si+th hour, an! more, to be let in, saying, $(ho % am, an! whence, an! why % am come, thou knowest" % know that % !eser e not to see thy faceE yet, unless % see thee, % will not return" Thou who recei est beasts, why repellest thou a manJ % ha e sought, an! % ha e foun!" % knock, that it may be opene! to me2 which if % win not, here will % !ie before thy gate" -urely thou shalt at least bury my corpse"$

$Persisting thus he spoke, an! stoo! there fi+e!2 To whom the hero shortly thus replie!"$ $Ao one begs thus to threaten" Ao one !oes injury with tears" 3n! !ost thou won!er why % !o not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal guestJ$ Then Paul, smiling, opene! the !oor" They mingle! mutual embraces, an! salute! each other by their names, an! committe! themsel es in common to the grace of Go!" 3n! after the holy kiss, Paul sitting !own with 3ntony thus began>> $Behol! him, whom thou hast sought with such labourE with limbs !ecaye! by age, an! co ere! with unkempt white hair" Behol!, thou seest but a mortal, soon to become !ust" But, because charity bears all things, tell me, % pray thee, how fares the human raceJ whether new houses are rising in the ancient citiesJ by what emperor is the worl! go erne!J whether there are any left who are le! capti e by the !eceits of the !e ilJ$ 3s they spoke thus, they saw a ra en settle on a boughE who, flying gently !own, lai!, to their won!er, a whole loaf before them" (hen he was gone, $3h,$ sai! Paul, $the <or!, truly lo ing, truly merciful, hath sent us a meal" )or si+ty years past % ha e recei e! !aily half a loaf, but at thy coming Christ hath !ouble! his sol!iersG allowance"$ Then, ha ing thanke! Go!, they sat !own on the brink of the glassy spring" But here a contention arising as to which of them shoul! break the loaf, occupie! the !ay till well>nigh e ening" Paul insiste!, as the hostE 3ntony !ecline!, as the younger man" 3t last it was agree! that they shoul! take hol! of the loaf at opposite en!s, an! each pull towar!s himself, an! keep what was left in his han!" Ae+t they stoope! !own, an! !rank a little water from the springE then, immolating to Go! the sacrifice of praise, passe! the night watching" 3n! when !ay !awne! again, the blesse! Paul sai! to 3ntony, $% knew long since, brother, that thou wert !welling in these lan!sE long since Go! ha! promise! thee to me as a fellow ser ant2 but because the time of my falling asleep is now come, an! Ibecause % always longe! to !epart, an! to be with ChristK there is lai! up for me when % ha e finishe! my course a crown of righteousnessE therefore thou art sent from the <or! to co er my corpse with moul!, an! gi e back !ust to !ust"$ 3ntony, hearing this, praye! him with tears an! groans not to !esert him, but take him as his companion on such a journey" But he sai!, $Thou must not seek the things which are thine own, but the things of others" %t is e+pe!ient for thee, in!ee!, to cast off the bur!en of the flesh, an! to follow the <amb2 but it is e+pe!ient for the rest of the brethren that they shoul! be still traine! by thine e+ample" (herefore go, unless it !isplease thee, an! bring the cloak which 3thanasius the bishop ga e thee, to wrap up my corpse"$ But this the blesse! Paul aske!, not because he care! greatly whether his bo!y !ecaye! co ere! or bare Ias one who for so long a time was use! to clothe himself with wo en palm lea esK, but that 3ntonyGs grief at his !eath might be lightene! when he left him" 3ntony astoun!e! that he ha! hear! of 3thanasius an! his own cloak, seeing as it were Christ in Paul, an! enerating the Go! within his breast, !are! answer nothing2 but keeping in silence, an! kissing

his eyes an! han!s, returne! to the monastery, which afterwar!s was occupie! by the -aracens" His steps coul! not follow his spiritE but, although his bo!y was empty with fastings, an! broken with ol! age, yet his courage conFuere! his years" 3t last, tire! an! breathless, he arri e! at home" There two !isciples met him, who ha! been long sent to minister to him, an! aske! him, $(here hast thou tarrie! so long, fatherJ$ He answere!, $(oe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of a monk" % ha e seen EliasE % ha e seen @ohn in the !esertE % ha e truly seen Paul in Para!iseE$ an! so, closing his lips, an! beating his breast, he took the cloak from his cell, an! when his !isciples aske! him to e+plain more fully what ha! befallen, he sai!, $There is a time to be silent, an! a time to speak"$ Then going out, an! not taking e en a morsel of foo!, he returne! by the way he ha! come" )or he feare!>>what actually happene!>>lest Paul in his absence shoul! ren!er up the soul he owe! to Christ" 3n! when the secon! !ay ha! shone, an! he ha! retrace! his steps for three hours, he saw ami! hosts of angels, ami! the choirs of prophets an! apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascen!ing up on highE an! forthwith falling on his face, he cast san! on his hea!, an! weeping an! wailing, sai!, $(hy !ost thou !ismiss me, PaulJ (hy !ost thou !epart without a farewellJ -o late known, !ost thou anish so soonJ$ The blesse! 3ntony use! to tell afterwar!s, how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly that he flew like a bir!" Aor without cause" )or entering the ca e he saw, with ben!e! knees, erect neck, an! han!s sprea! out on high, a lifeless corpse" 3n! at first, thinking that it still li e!, he praye! in like wise" But when he hear! no sighs Ias usualK come from the worshipperGs breast, he fell to a tearful kiss, un!erstan!ing how the ery corpse of the saint was praying, in seemly attitu!e, to that Go! to whom all li e" -o, ha ing wrappe! up an! carrie! forth the corpse, an! chanting hymns of the Christian tra!ition, 3ntony grew sa!, because he ha! no spa!e, wherewith to !ig the groun!E an! thinking o er many plans in his min!, sai!, $%f % go back to the monastery, it is a three !aysG journey" %f % stay here, % shall be of no more use" % will !ie, then, as it is fitE an!, falling besi!e thy warrior, Christ, breathe my last breath"$ 3s he was thinking thus to himself, lo1 two lions came running from the inner part of the !esert, their manes tossing on their necksE seeing whom he shu!!ere! at firstE an! then, turning his min! to Go!, remaine! fearless, as though he were looking upon !o es" They came straight to the corpse of the blesse! ol! man, an! crouche! at his feet, wagging their tails, an! roaring with mighty growls, so that 3ntony un!erstoo! them to lament, as best they coul!" Then not far off they began to claw the groun! with their paws, an!, carrying out the san! eagerly, !ug a place large enough to hol! a man2 then at once, as if begging a rewar! for their work, they came to 3ntony, !rooping their necks, an! licking his han!s an! feet" But he percei e! that they praye! a blessing from himE an! at once, bursting into praise of Christ, because e en !umb animals felt that he was Go!, he saith, $<or!, without whose wor! not a leaf of the tree !rops, nor one sparrow falls to the groun!, gi e to them as thou knowest how to gi e"$ 3n!, signing to them with his han!, he ba!e them go" 3n! when they ha! !eparte!, he bent his age! shoul!ers to the weight of the holy corpseE an! laying it in the gra e, heape! earth on it, an! raise! a moun! as is the wont" 3n! when another !awn shone,

lest the pious heir shoul! not possess aught of the goo!s of the intestate !ea!, he kept for himself the tunic which Paul ha! wo en, as baskets are ma!e, out of the lea es of the palmE an! returning to the monastery, tol! his !isciples all throughoutE an!, on the solemn !ays of Easter an! Pentecost, always clothe! himself in PaulGs tunic" % am incline!, at the en! of my treatise, to ask those who know not the e+tent of their patrimoniesE who co er their houses with marblesE who sew the price of whole farms into their garments with a single threa!>>(hat was e er wanting to this nake! ol! manJ &e !rink from a gemE he satisfie! nature from the hollow of his han!s" &e wea e gol! into your tunicsE he ha! not e en the ilest garment of your bon!>sla e" But, on the other han!, to that poor man Para!ise is openE you, gil!e! as you are, Gehenna will recei e" He, though nake!, kept the garment of ChristE you, clothe! in silk, ha e lost ChristGs robe" Paul lies co ere! with the meanest !ust, to rise in gloryE you are crushe! by wrought sepulchres of stone, to burn with all your works" -pare, % beseech you, yoursel esE spare, at least, the riches which you lo e" (hy !o you wrap e en your !ea! in gol!en estmentsJ (hy !oes not ambition stop ami! grief an! tearsJ Cannot the corpses of the rich !ecay, sa e in silkJ % beseech thee, whosoe er thou art that rea!est this, to remember Hieronymus the sinner, who, if the <or! ga e him choice, woul! much sooner choose PaulGs tunic with his merits, than the purple of kings with their punishments" This is the story of Paul an! 3ntony, as tol! by @erome" But, in justice to 3ntony himself, it must be sai! that the sayings recor!e! of him seem to show that he was not the mere isionary ascetic which his biographers ha e ma!e him" -ome twenty sermons are attribute! to him, se en of which only are consi!ere! to be genuine" 3 rule for monks, too, is calle! his2 but, as it is almost certain that he coul! neither rea! nor write, we ha e no proof that any of these !ocuments con ey his actual language" %f the se en sermons attribute! to him be really his, it must be sai! for them that they are full of soun! !octrine an! ital religion, an! worthy, as wholes, to be preache! in any English church, if we only substitute for the wor! $monk,$ the wor! $man"$ But there are recor!s of 3ntony which represent him as a far more genial an! human personageE full of a knowle!ge of human nature, an! of a ten!erness an! sympathy, which account for his un!oubte! power o er the min!s of menE an! showing, too, at times, a certain co ert an! $pawky$ humour which puts us in min!, as !oes the humour of many of the Egyptian hermits, of the ol!>fashione! -cotch" These reminiscences are containe! in the $(or!s of the El!ers,$ a series of anec!otes of the !esert fathers collecte! by arious han!sE which are, after all, the most interesting an! probably the most trustworthy accounts of them an! their ways" % shall ha e occasion to Fuote them later" % insert here some among them which relate to 3ntony" -3&%AG- ?) 3AT?A&, ),?B THE $(?,#- ?) THE E<#E,-"$ 3 monk ga e away his wealth to the poor, but kept back some for himself" 3ntony sai! to him, $Go to the illage an! buy meat, an! bring it to me on thy bare back"$ He !i! so2 an! the !ogs an!

bir!s attacke! him, an! tore him as well as the meat" Quoth 3ntony, $-o are those who renounce the worl!, an! yet must nee!s ha e money, torn by !aemons"$ 3ntony hear! high praise of a certain brotherE but, when he teste! him, he foun! that he was impatient un!er injury" Quoth 3ntony, $Thou art like a house which has a gay porch, but is broken into by thie es through the back !oor"$ 3ntony, as he sat in the !esert, was weary in heart, an! sai!, $<or!, % long to be sa e!, but my wan!ering thoughts will not let me" -how me what % shall !o"$ 3n! looking up, he saw one like himself twisting ropes, an! rising up to pray" 3n! the angel Ifor it was oneK sai! to him, $(ork like me, 3ntony, an! you shall be sa e!"$ ?ne aske! him how he coul! please Go!" Quoth 3ntony, $Ha e Go! always before thine eyesE whate er work thou !oest, take e+ample for it out of Holy -cripture2 where er thou stoppest, !o not mo e thence in a hurry, but abi!e there in patience" %f thou keepest these three things, thou shalt be sa e!"$ Quoth 3ntony, $%f the baker !i! not co er the mill>horseGs eyes he woul! eat the corn, an! take his own wages" -o Go! co ers our eyes, by lea ing us to sor!i! thoughts, lest we shoul! think of our own goo! works, an! be puffe! up in spirit"$ Quoth 3ntony, $% saw all the snares of the enemy sprea! o er the whole earth" 3n! % sighe!, an! sai!, G(ho can pass through theseJG 3n! a oice came to me, saying, GHumility alone can pass through, 3ntony, where the prou! can in no wise go"G$ 3ntony was sitting in his cell, an! a oice sai! to him, $Thou hast not yet come to the stature of a currier, who li es in 3le+an!ria"$ Then he took his staff, an! went !own to 3le+an!riaE an! the currier, when he foun! him, was astonishe! at seeing so great a man" -ai! 3ntony, $Tell me thy worksE for on thy account ha e % come out of the !esert"$ 3n! he answere!, $% know not that % e er !i! any goo!E an!, therefore, when % rise in the morning, % say that this whole city, from the greatest to the least, will enter into the king!om of Go! for their righteousness2 while %, for my sins, shall go to eternal pain" 3n! this % say o er again, from the bottom of my heart, when % lie !own at night"$ (hen 3ntony hear! that, he sai!, $<ike a goo! gol!smith, thou hast gaine! the king!om of Go! sitting still in thy houseE while %, as one without !iscretion, ha e been haunting the !esert all my time, an! yet not arri e! at the measure of thy saying"$ Quoth 3ntony, $%f a monk coul! tell his el!ers how many steps he walks, or how many cups of water he !rinks, in his cell, he ought to tell them, for fear of going wrong therein"$ 3t 3le+an!ria, 3ntony met one #i!ymus, most learne! in the -criptures, witty, an! wise2 but he was blin!" 3ntony aske! him, $3rt thou not grie e! at thy blin!nessJ$ He was silent2 but being presse! by 3ntony, he confesse! that he was sa! thereat" Quoth 3ntony, $% won!er that a pru!ent man grie es o er the loss of a thing which ants, an! flies, an! gnats ha e, instea! of rejoicing in that possession which the holy 3postles earne!" )or it is better to see with the spirit than with the flesh"$

3 )ather aske! 3ntony, $(hat shall % !oJ$ Quoth the ol! man, $Trust not in thine own righteousnessE regret not the thing which is pastE bri!le thy tongue an! thy stomach"$ Quoth 3ntony, $He who sits still in the !esert is safe from three enemies2 from hearing, from speech, from sight2 an! has to fight against only one, his own heart"$ 3 young monk came an! tol! 3ntony how he ha! seen some ol! men weary on their journey, an! ha! bi!!en the wil! asses to come an! carry him, an! they came" Quoth 3ntony, $That monk looks to me like a ship la!en with a precious cargoE but whether it will get into port is uncertain"$ 3n! after some !ays he began to tear his hair an! weepE an! when they aske! him why, he sai!, $3 great pillar of the Church has just fallenE$ an! he sent brothers to see the young man, an! foun! him sitting on his mat, weeping o er a great sin which he ha! !oneE an! he sai!, $Tell 3ntony to gi e me ten !aysG truce, an! % hope % shall satisfy himE$ an! in fi e !ays he was !ea!" 3bbot Elias fell into temptation, an! the brethren !ro e him out" Then he went to the mountain to 3ntony" 3fter awhile, 3ntony sent him home to his brethrenE but they woul! not recei e him" Then the ol! man sent to them, an! saying, $3 ship has been wrecke! at sea, an! lost all its cargoE an!, with much toil, the ship is come empty to lan!" (ill you sink it again in the seaJ$ -o they took Elias back" Quoth 3ntony, $There are some who keep their bo!ies in abstinence2 but, because they ha e no !iscretion, they are far from Go!"$ 3 hunter came by, an! saw 3ntony rejoicing with the brethren, an! it !isplease! him" Quoth 3ntony, $Put an arrow in thy bow, an! !rawE$ an! he !i!" Quoth 3ntony, $#raw higherE$ an! again, $#raw higher still"$ 3n! he sai!, $%f % o er!raw, % shall break my bow"$ Quoth 3ntony, $-o it is in the work of Go!" %f we stretch the brethren beyon! measure, they fail"$ 3 brother sai! to 3ntony, $Pray for me"$ Quoth he, $% cannot pity thee, nor Go! either, unless thou pitiest thyself, an! prayest to Go!"$ Quoth 3ntony, $The <or! !oes not permit wars to arise in this generation, because he knows that men are weak, an! cannot bear them"$ 3ntony, as he consi!ere! the !epths of the ju!gments of Go!, faile!E an! sai!, $<or!, why !o some !ie so early, an! some li e on to a !ecrepit ageJ (hy are some nee!y, an! others richJ (hy are the unjust wealthy, an! the just poorJ$ 3n! a oice came to him, $3ntony, look to thyself" These are the ju!gments of Go!, which are not fit for thee to know"$ Quoth 3ntony to 3bbot Pastor, $This is a manGs great business>>to lay each man his own fault on himself before the <or!, an! to e+pect temptation to the last !ay of his life"$ Quoth 3ntony, $%f a man works a few !ays, an! then is i!le, an! works again an! is i!le again, he !oes nothing, an! will not possess the perse erance of patience"$ Quoth 3ntony to his !isciples, $%f you try to keep silence, !o not

think that you are e+ercising a speak"$

irtue, but that you are unworthy to

Certain ol! men came once to 3ntonyE an! he wishe! to pro e them, an! began to talk of holy -cripture, an! to ask them, beginning at the youngest, what this an! that te+t meant" 3n! each answere! as best they coul!" But he kept on saying, $&ou ha e not yet foun! it out"$ 3n! at last he aske! 3bbot @oseph, $3n! what !ost thou think this te+t meansJ$ Quoth 3bbot @oseph, $% !o not know"$ Quoth 3ntony, $3bbot @oseph alone has foun! out the way, for he says he !oes not know it"$ Quoth 3ntony, $% !o not now fear Go!, but lo e Him, for lo e !ri es out fear"$ He sai! again, $<ife an! !eath are ery near usE for if we gain our brother, we gain Go!2 but if we cause our brother to offen!, we sin against Christ"$ 3 philosopher aske! 3ntony, $How art thou content, father, since thou hast not the comfort of booksJ$ Quoth 3ntony, $By book is the nature of create! things" %n it, when % choose, % can rea! the wor!s of Go!"$ Brethren came to 3ntony, an! aske! of him a saying by which they might be sa e!" Quoth he, $&e ha e hear! the -criptures, an! know what Christ reFuires of you"$ But they begge! that he woul! tell them something of his own" Quoth he, $The Gospel says, G%f a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other"G$ But they sai! that they coul! not !o that" Quoth he, $&ou cannot turn the other cheek to himJ Then let him smite you again on the same one"$ But they sai! they coul! not !o that either" Then sai! he, $%f you cannot, at least !o not return e il for e il"$ 3n! when they sai! that neither coul! they !o that, Fuoth 3ntony to his !isciples, $Go, get them something to eat, for they are ery weak"$ 3n! he sai! to them, $%f you cannot !o the one, an! will not ha e the other, what !o you wantJ 3s % see, what you want is prayer" That will heal your weakness"$ Quoth 3ntony, $He who woul! be free from his sins must be so by weeping an! mourningE an! he who woul! be built up in irtue must be built up by tears"$ Quoth 3ntony, $(hen the stomach is full of meat, forthwith the great ices bubble out, accor!ing to that which the -a iour says2 GThat which entereth into the mouth !efileth not a manE but that which cometh out of the heart sinks a man in !estruction"G$ 7This may be a somewhat para!o+ical application of the te+t2 but the last anec!ote of 3ntony which % shall Fuote is full of wis!om an! humanity"; 3 monk came from 3le+an!ria, Eulogius by name, bringing with him a man afflicte! with elephantiasis" Aow Eulogius ha! been a scholar, learne!, an! rich, an! ha! gi en away all he ha! sa e a ery little, which he kept because he coul! not work with his own han!s" 3n! he tol! 3ntony how he ha! foun! that wretche! man lying in the street fifteen years before, ha ing lost then nearly e ery member sa e his tongue, an! how he ha! taken him home to his cell, nurse! him, bathe! him, physicke! him, fe! himE an! how the man ha!

returne! him nothing sa e slan!ers, curses, an! insultsE how he ha! insiste! on ha ing meat, an! ha! ha! itE an! on going out in public, an! ha! company brought to himE an! how he ha! at last !eman!e! to be put !own again whence he ha! been taken, always cursing an! slan!ering" 3n! now Eulogius coul! bear the man no longer, an! was min!e! to take him at his wor!" Then sai! 3ntony with an angry oice, $(ilt thou cast him out, EulogiusJ He who remembers that he ma!e him, will not cast him out" %f thou cast him out, he will fin! a better frien! than thee" Go! will choose some one who will take him up when he is cast away"$ Eulogius was terrifie! at these wor!s, an! hel! his peace" Then went 3ntony to the sick man, an! shoute! at him, $Thou elephantiac, foul with mu! an! !irt, not worthy of the thir! hea en, wilt thou not stop shouting blasphemies against Go!J #ost thou not know that he who ministers to thee is ChristJ How !arest thou say such things against ChristJ$ 3n! he ba!e Eulogius an! the sick man go back to their cell, an! li e in peace, an! ne er part more" Both went back, an!, after forty !ays, Eulogius !ie!, an! the sick man shortly after, $altogether whole in spirit"$

H%<3,%?A

% woul! gla!ly, !i! space allow, gi e more biographies from among those of the Egyptian hermits2 but it seems best, ha ing shown the rea!er 3ntony as the father of Egyptian monachism, to go on to his great pupil Hilarion, the father of monachism in Palestine" His life stan!s written at length by -t" @erome, who himself !ie! a monk at BethlehemE an! is compose! happily in a less ambitious an! less rugge! style than that of Paul, not without elements of beauty, e en of trage!y" P,?<?G=E ,emember me in thy holy prayers, glory an! honour of irgins, nun 3sella" Before beginning to write the life of the blesse! Hilarion, % in oke the Holy -pirit which !welt in him, that, as he largely bestowe! irtues on Hilarion, he may gi e to me speech wherewith to relate themE so that his !ee!s may be eFualle! by my language" )or those who Ias Crispus saysK $ha e wrought irtues$ are hel! to ha e been worthily praise! in proportion to the wor!s in which famous intellects ha e been able to e+tol them" 3le+an!er the Great, the Bace!onian Iwhom #aniel calls either the brass, or the leopar!, or the he>goatK, on coming to the tomb of 3chilles, $Happy art thou, youth,$ he sai!, $who hast been blest with a great heral! of thy worth$>>meaning Homer" But % ha e to tell the con ersation an! life of such an! so great a man, that e en Homer, were he here, woul! either en y my matter, or succumb un!er it" )or although -t" Epiphanius, bishop of -alamina in Cyprus, who ha! much intercourse with Hilarion, has written his praise in a short epistle, which is commonly rea!, yet it is one thing to praise the !ea! in general phrases, another to relate his special irtues" (e therefore set to work rather to his a! antage than to his injuryE

an! !espise those e il>speakers who lately carpe! at Paul, an! will perhaps now carp at my Hilarion, unjustly blaming the former for his solitary life, an! the latter for his intercourse with menE in or!er that the one, who was ne er seen, may be suppose! not to ha e e+iste!E the other, who was seen by many, may be hel! cheap" This was the way of their ancestors likewise, the Pharisees, who were neither satisfie! with @ohnGs !esert life an! fasting, nor with the <or! -a iourGs public life, eating an! !rinking" But % shall lay my han! to the work which % ha e !etermine!, an! pass by, with stoppe! ears, the houn!s of -cylla" % pray that thou mayest perse ere in Christ, an! be min!ful of me in thy prayers, most sacre! irgin" THE <%)E Hilarion was born in the illage of Thabatha, which lies about fi e miles to the south of GaHa, in Palestine" He ha! parents gi en to the worship of i!ols, an! blossome! Ias the saying isK a rose among the thorns" -ent by them to 3le+an!ria, he was entruste! to a grammarian, an! there, as far as his years allowe!, ga e proof of great intellect an! goo! morals" He was soon !ear to all, an! skille! in the art of speaking" 3n!, what is more than all, he belie e! in the <or! @esus, an! !elighte! neither in the ma!ness of the circus, in the bloo! of the arena, or in the lu+ury of the theatre2 but all his heart was in the congregation of the Church" But hearing the then famous name of 3ntony, which was carrie! throughout all Egypt, he was fire! with a longing to isit him, an! went to the !esert" 3s soon as he saw him he change! his !ress, an! staye! with him about two months, watching the or!er of his life, an! the purity of his mannerE how freFuent he was in prayers, how humble in recei ing brethren, se ere in repro ing them, eager in e+horting themE an! how no infirmity e er broke through his continence, an! the coarseness of his foo!" But, unable to bear longer the crow! which assemble! roun! 3ntony, for arious !iseases an! attacks of !e ils, he sai! that it was not consistent to en!ure in the !esert the crow!s of cities, but that he must rather begin where 3ntony ha! begun" 3ntony, as a aliant man, was recei ing the rewar! of ictory2 he ha! not yet begun to ser e as a sol!ier" He returne!, therefore, with certain monks to his own countryE an!, fin!ing his parents !ea!, ga e away part of his substance to the brethren, part to the poor, an! kept nothing at all for himself, fearing what is tol! in the 3cts of the 3postles, the e+ample or punishment, of 3nanias an! -apphiraE an! especially min!ful of the <or!Gs saying>>$He that lea eth not all that he hath, he cannot be my !isciple"$ He was then fifteen years ol!" -o, nake!, but arme! in Christ, he entere! the !esert, which, se en miles from Baiuma, the port of GaHa, turns away to the left of those who go along the shore towar!s Egypt" 3n! though the place was bloo!>staine! by robbers, an! his relations an! frien!s warne! him of the imminent !anger, he !espise! !eath, in or!er to escape !eath" 3ll won!ere! at his spirit, won!ere! at his youth" -a e that a certain fire of the bosom an! spark of faith glittere! in his eyes, his cheeks were smooth, his bo!y !elicate an! thin, unable to bear any injury, an! liable to be o ercome by e en a light chill or heat" -o, co ering his limbs only with a sackcloth, an! ha ing a cloak of skin, which the blesse! 3ntony ha! gi en him at starting, an! a

rustic cloak, between the sea an! the swamp, he enjoye! the ast an! terrible solitu!e, fee!ing on only fifteen figs after the setting of the sunE an! because the region was, as has been sai! abo e, of ill> repute from robberies, no man ha! e er staye! before in that place" The !e il, seeing what he was !oing an! whither he ha! gone, was tormente!" 3n! though he, who of ol! boaste!, saying, $% shall ascen! into hea en, % shall sit abo e the stars of hea en, an! shall be like unto the Bost High,$ now saw that he ha! been conFuere! by a boy, an! trample! un!er foot by him, ere, on account of his youth, he coul! commit sin" He therefore began to tempt his sensesE but he, enrage! with himself, an! beating his breast with his fist, as if he coul! !ri e out thoughts by blows, $% will force thee, mine ass,$ sai! he, $not to kickE an! fee! thee with straw, not barley" % will wear thee out with hunger an! thirstE % will bur!en thee with hea y loa!sE % will hunt thee through heat an! col!, till thou thinkest more of foo! than of play"$ He therefore sustaine! his fainting spirit with the juice of herbs an! a few figs, after each three or four !ays, praying freFuently, an! singing psalms, an! !igging the groun! with a mattock, to !ouble the labour of fasting by that of work" 3t the same time, by wea ing baskets of rushes, he imitate! the !iscipline of the Egyptian monks, an! the 3postleGs saying>>$He that will not work, neither let him eat$>>till he was so attenuate!, an! his bo!y so e+hauste!, that it scarce clung to his bones" ?ne night he began to hear the crying L.59M of infants, the bleating of sheep, the wailing of women, the roaring of lions, the murmur of an army, an! utterly portentous an! barbarous oicesE so that he shrank frightene! by the soun! ere he saw aught" He un!erstoo! these to be the insults of !e ilsE an!, falling on his knees, he signe! the cross of Christ on his forehea!, an! arme! with that helmet, an! girt with the breastplate of faith, he fought more aliantly as he lay, longing somehow to see what he shu!!ere! to hear, an! looking roun! him with an+ious eyes2 when, without warning, by the bright moonshine he saw a chariot with fiery horses rushing upon him" But when he ha! calle! on @esus, the earth opene! su!!enly, an! the whole pomp was swallowe! up before his eyes" Then sai! he, $The horse an! his ri!er he hath !rowne! in the seaE$ an! $-ome glory themsel es in chariots, an! some in horses2 but we in the name of the <or! our Go!"$ Bany were his temptations, an! arious, by !ay an! night, the snares of the !e ils" %f we were to tell them all, they woul! make the olume too long" How often !i! women appear to himE how often plenteous banFuets when he was hungry" -ometimes as he praye!, a howling wolf ran past him, or a barking fo+E or as he sang, a fight of gla!iators ma!e a show for him2 an! one of them, as if slain, falling at his feet, praye! for sepulture" He praye! once with his hea! bowe! to the groun!, an!>> as is the nature of man>>his min! wan!ere! from his prayer, an! thought of % know not what, when a mocking ri!er leape! on his back, an! spurring his si!es, an! whipping his neck, $Come,$ he cries, $come, run1 why !o you sleepJ$ an!, laughing lou!ly o er him, aske! him if he were tire!, or woul! ha e a fee! of barley" -o from his si+teenth to his twentieth year, he was sheltere! from the heat an! rain in a tiny cabin, which he ha! wo en of rush an! se!ge" 3fterwar!s he built a little cell, which remains to this !ay, four feet wi!e an! fi e feet high>>that is, lower than his own stature>>an! somewhat longer than his small bo!y nee!e!, so that you woul! belie e it to be a tomb rather than a !welling" He cut his hair only once a year, on Easter>!ay, an! lay till his !eath on the bare groun! an! a layer of rushes, ne er washing the sack in which

he was clothe!, an! saying that it was superfluous to seek for cleanliness in haircloth" Aor !i! he change his tunic, till the first was utterly in rags" He knew the -criptures by heart, an! recite! them after his prayers an! psalms as if Go! were present" 3n!, because it woul! take up too much time to tell his great !ee!s one by one, % will gi e a short account of them" 7Then follows a series of miracles, similar to those attribute! to -t" 3ntony, an!, in!ee!, to all these great Hermit )athers" But it is unnecessary to relate more won!ers which the rea!er cannot be e+pecte! to belie e" These miracles, howe er, accor!ing to -t" @erome, were the foun!ations of HilarionGs fame an! public career" )or he says, $(hen they were noise! abroa!, people flowe! to him eagerly from -yria to Egypt, so that many belie e! in Christ, an! professe! themsel es to be monks>>for no one ha! known of a monk in -yria before the holy Hilarion" He was the first foun!er an! teacher of this con ersation an! stu!y in the pro ince" The <or! @esus ha! in Egypt the ol! man 3ntonyE he ha! in Palestine the young Hilarion " " " He was raise!, in!ee!, by the <or! to such a glory, that the blesse! 3ntony, hearing of his con ersation, wrote to him, an! willingly recei e! his lettersE an! if rich people came to him from the parts of -yria, he sai! to them, G(hy ha e you chosen to trouble yoursel es by coming so far, when you ha e at home my son HilarionJG -o by his e+ample innumerable monasteries arose throughout all Palestine, an! all monks came eagerly to him " " " But what a care he ha!, not to pass by any brother, howe er humble or howe er poor, may be shown by thisE that once going into the #esert of Ka!esh, to isit one of his !isciples, he came, with an infinite crow! of monks, to Elusa, on the ery !ay, as it chance!, on which a yearly solemnity ha! gathere! all the people of the town to the Temple of *enusE for they honour her on account of the morning star, to the worship of which the nation of the -aracens is !e ote!" The town itself too is sai! to be in great part semi> barbarous, on account of its remote situation" Hearing, then, that the holy Hilarion was passing by>>for he ha! often cure! -aracens possesse! with !aemons>>they came out to meet him in crow!s, with their wi es an! chil!ren, bowing their necks, an! crying in the -yrian tongue, GBarech1G that is, GBless1G He recei e! them courteously an! humbly, entreating them to worship Go! rather than stones, an! wept abun!antly, looking up to hea en, an! promising them that, if they woul! belie e in Christ, he woul! come oftener to them" (on!erful was the grace of the <or!" They woul! not let him !epart till he ha! lai! the foun!ations of a future church, an! their priest, crowne! as he was, ha! been consecrate! with the sign of Christ" ''''''' He was now si+ty>three years ol!" He saw about him a great monastery, a multitu!e of brethren, an! crow!s who came to be heale! of !iseases an! unclean spirits, filling the solitu!e aroun!E but he wept !aily, an! remembere! with incre!ible regret his ancient life" $% ha e returne! to the worl!,$ he sai!, $an! recei e! my rewar! in this life" 3ll Palestine an! the neighbouring pro inces think me to be worth somewhatE while % possess a farm an! househol! goo!s, un!er the prete+t of the brethrenGs a! antage"$ ?n which the brethren, an! especially Hesychius, who bore him a won!rous lo e, watche! him narrowly" (hen he ha! li e! thus sa!ly for two years, 3ristaeneta, the PrefectGs wife, came to him, wishing him to go with her to 3ntony,

$% woul! go,$ he sai!, weeping, $if % were not hel! in the prison of this monastery, an! if it were of any use" )or two !ays since, the whole worl! was robbe! of such a father"$ -he belie e! him, an! stoppe!" 3n! 3ntonyGs !eath was confirme! a few !ays after" ?thers may won!er at the signs an! portents which he !i!, at his incre!ible abstinence, his silence, his miracles2 % am astonishe! at nothing so much as that he was able to trample un!er foot that glory an! honour" Bishops an! clergy, monks an! Christian matrons Ia great temptationK, people of the common sort, great men, too, an! ju!ges crow!e! to him, to recei e from him blesse! brea! or oil" But he was thinking of nothing but the !esert, till one !ay he !etermine! to set out, an! taking an ass Ifor he was so shrunk with fasting that he coul! har!ly walkK, he trie! to go his way" The news got win!E the !esolation an! !estruction of Palestine woul! ensueE ten thousan! souls, men an! women, trie! to stop his wayE but he woul! not hear them" -miting on the groun! with his staff, he sai!, $% will not make my Go! a liar" % cannot bear to see churches ruine!, the altars of Christ trample! !own, the bloo! of my sons spilt"$ 3ll who hear! thought that some secret re elation ha! been ma!e to him2 but yet they woul! not let him go" (hereon he woul! neither eat nor !rink, an! for se en !ays he perse ere! fasting, till he ha! his wish, an! set out for Bethulia, with forty monks, who coul! march without foo! till sun!own" ?n the fifth !ay he came to Pelusium, then to the camp Thebatrum, to see #racontiusE an! then to Babylon to see Philo" These two were bishops an! confessors e+ile! by Constantius, who fa oure! the 3rian heresy" Then he came to 3phro!iton, where he met Barsanes the !eacon, who use! to carry water to 3ntony on !rome!aries, an! hear! from him that the anni ersary 3ntonyGs !eath was near, an! woul! be celebrate! by a igil at his tomb" Then through a ast an! horrible wil!erness, he went for three !ays to a ery high mountain, an! foun! there two monks, %saac an! Pelusianus, of whom %saac ha! been 3ntonyGs interpreter" 3 high an! rocky hill it was, with fountains gushing out at its foot" -ome of them the san! sucke! upE some forme! a little rill, with palms without number on its banks" There you might ha e seen the ol! man wan!ering to an! fro with 3ntonyGs !isciples" $Here,$ they sai!, $he use! to sing, here to pray, here to work, here to sit when tire!" These ines, these shrubs, he plante! himselfE that plot he lai! out with his own han!s" This pon! to water the gar!en he ma!e with hea y toilE that hoe he kept for many years"$ Hilarion lay on his be!, an! kisse! the couch, as if it were still warm" 3ntonyGs cell was only large enough to let a man lie !own in itE an! on the mountain top, reache! by a !ifficult an! win!ing stair, were two other cells of the same siHe, cut in the stony rock, to which he use! to retire from the isitors an! !isciples, when they came to the gar!en" $&ou see,$ sai! %saac, $this orchar!, with shrubs an! egetables" Three years since a troop of wil! asses lai! it waste" He ba!e one of their lea!ers stopE an! beat it with his staff" G(hy !o you eat,G he aske! it, Gwhat you !i! not sowJG 3n! after that the asses, though they came to !rink the waters, ne er touche! his plants"$ Then Hilarion aske! them to show him 3ntonyGs gra e" They le! him apartE but whether they showe! it to him, no man knows" They hi! it, they sai!, by 3ntonyGs comman!, lest one Pergamius, who was the richest man of those parts, shoul! take the corpse to his illa, an! buil! a chapel o er it"

Then he went back to 3phro!iton, an! with only two brothers, !welt in the !esert, in such abstinence an! silence that Iso he sai!K he then first began to ser e Christ" Aow it was then three years since the hea en ha! been shut, an! the earth !rie! up2 so that they sai! commonly, the ery elements mourne! the !eath of 3ntony" But HilarionGs fame sprea! to themE an! a great multitu!e, brown an! shrunken with famine, crie! to him for rain, as to the blesse! 3ntonyGs successor" He saw them, an! grie e! o er themE an! lifting up his han! to hea en, obtaine! rain at once" But the thirsty an! san!y lan!, as soon as it was watere! by showers, sent forth such a crow! of serpents an! enomous animals that people without number were stung, an! woul! ha e !ie!, ha! they not run together to Hilarion" (ith oil blesse! by him, the husban!men an! shepher!s touche! their woun!s, an! all were surely heale!" But when he saw that he was mar ellously honoure!, he went to 3le+an!ria, meaning to cross the !esert to the further oasis" 3n! because since he was a monk he ha! ne er staye! in a city, he turne! asi!e to some brethren known to him in the Brucheion L..6M not far from 3le+an!ria" They recei e! him with joy2 but, when night came on, they su!!enly hear! him bi! his !isciples sa!!le the ass" %n ain they entreate!, threw themsel es across the threshol!" His only answer was, that he was hastening away, lest he shoul! bring them into troubleE they woul! soon know that he ha! not !eparte! without goo! reason" The ne+t !ay, men of GaHa came with the PrefectGs lictors, burst into the monastery, an! when they foun! him not>>$%s it not true,$ they sai!, $what we hear!J He is a sorcerer, an! knows the future"$ )or the citiHens of GaHa, after Hilarion was gone, an! @ulian ha! succee!e! to the empire, ha! !estroye! his monastery, an! begge! from the Emperor the !eath of Hilarion an! Hesychius" -o letters ha! been sent forth, to seek them throughout the worl!" -o Hilarion went by the pathless wil!erness into the ?asisE L..NM an! after a year, more or less>>because his fame ha! gone before him e en there, an! he coul! not lie hi! in the East>>he was min!e! to sail away to lonely islan!s, that the sea at least might hi!e what the lan! woul! not" But just then Ha!rian, his !isciple, came from Palestine, telling him that @ulian was slain, an! that a Christian emperor was reigningE so that he ought to return to the relics of his monastery" But he abhorre! the thoughtE an!, hiring a camel, went o er the ast !esert to Paraetonia, a sea town of <ibya" Then the wretche! Ha!rian, wishing to go back to Palestine an! get himself glory un!er his masterGs name, packe! up all that the brethren ha! sent by him to his master, an! went secretly away" But>>as a terror to those who !espise their masters>>he shortly after !ie! of jaun!ice" Then, with Pananas alone, Hilarion went on boar! ship to sail for -icily" 3n! when, almost in the mi!!le of 3!ria, L..0aM he was going to sell the Gospels which he ha! written out with his own han! when young, to pay his fare withal, then the captainGs son was possesse! with a !e il, an! crie! out, $Hilarion, ser ant of Go!, why can we not be safe from thee e en at seaJ Gi e me a little respite till % come to the shore, lest, if % be cast out here, % fall hea!long into the abyss"$ Then sai! he, $%f my Go! lets thee stay, stay" But if he cast thee out, why !ost thou lay the blame on me, a sinner an! a beggarJ$ Then he ma!e the captain an! the crew promise not to betray him2 an! the !e il was cast out" But the

captain woul! take no fare when he saw that they ha! nought but those Gospels, an! the clothes on their backs" 3n! so Hilarion came to Pachynum, a cape of -icily, L..0bM an! fle! twenty miles inlan! into a !eserte! farmE an! there e ery !ay gathere! a bun!le of firewoo!, an! put it on PananasGs back, who took it to the town, an! bought a little brea! thereby" But it happene!, accor!ing to that which is written, $3 city set on an hill cannot be hi!,$ one -cutarius was tormente! by a !e il in the Basilica of -t" Peter at ,omeE an! the unclean spirit crie! out in him, $3 few !ays since Hilarion, the ser ant of Christ, lan!e! in -icily, an! no man knows him, an! he thinks himself hi!" % will go an! betray him"$ 3n! forthwith he took ship with his sla es, an! came to Pachynum, an!, by the lea!ing of the !e il, threw himself !own before the ol! manGs hut, an! was cure!" The freFuency of his signs in -icily !rew to him sick people an! religious men in multitu!esE an! one of the chief men was cure! of !ropsy the same !ay that he came, an! offere! Hilarion boun!less gifts2 but he obeye! the -a iourGs saying, $)reely ye ha e recei e!E freely gi e"$ (hile this was happening in -icily, Hesychius, his !isciple, was seeking the ol! man through the worl!, searching the shores, penetrating the !esert, an! only certain that, where er he was, he coul! not long be hi!" -o, after three years were past, he hear! at Bethone L..9M from a @ew, who was selling ol! clothes, that a prophet of the Christians ha! appeare! in -icily, working such won!ers that he was thought to be one of the ol! saints" But he coul! gi e no !escription of him, ha ing only hear! common report" He saile! for Pachynum, an! there, in a cottage on the shore, hear! of HilarionGs fame>>that which most surprise! all being that, after so many signs an! miracles, he ha! not accepte! e en a bit of brea! from any man" -o, $not to make the story too long,$ as says -t" @erome, Hesychius fell at his masterGs knees, an! watere! his feet with tears, till at last he raise! him up" But two or three !ays after he hear! from Pananas, how the ol! man coul! !well no longer in these regions, but was min!e! to go to some barbarous nation, where both his name an! his speech shoul! be unknown" -o he took him to Epi!aurus, L../aM a city of #almatia, where he lay a few !ays in a little farm, an! yet coul! not be hi!E for a !ragon of won!rous siHe>>one of those which, in the country speech, they call boas, because they are so huge that they can swallow an o+>>lai! waste the pro ince, an! !e oure! not only her!s an! flocks, but husban!men an! shepher!s, which he !rew to him by the force of his breath" L../bM Hilarion comman!e! a pile of woo! to be prepare!, an! ha ing praye! to Christ, an! calle! the beast forth, comman!e! him to ascen! the pile, an! ha ing put fire un!er, burnt him before all the people" Then fretting o er what he shoul! !o, or whither he shoul! turn, he went alone o er the worl! in imagination, an! mourne! that, when his tongue was silent, his miracles still spoke" %n those !ays, at the earthFuake o er the whole worl!, which befell after @ulianGs !eath, the sea broke its boun!sE an!, as if Go! was threatening another floo!, or all was returning to the primae al chaos, ships were carrie! up steep rocks, an! hung there" But when the Epi!auritans saw roaring wa es an! mountains of water borne towar!s the shore, fearing lest the town shoul! be utterly o erthrown, they went out to the ol! man, an!, as if they were

lea!ing him out to battle, statione! him on the shore" 3n! when he ha! marke! three signs of the Cross upon the san!, an! stretche! out his han!s against the wa es, it is past belief to what a height the sea swelle!, an! stoo! up before him, an! then, raging long as if in!ignant at the barrier, fell back little by little into itself" 3ll Epi!aurus, an! all that region, talk of this to this !ayE an! mothers teach it their chil!ren, that they may han! it !own to posterity" Truly, that which was sai! to the 3postles, $%f ye belie e, ye shall say to this mountain, Be remo e!, an! cast into the seaE an! it shall be !one,$ can be fulfille! e en to the letter, if we ha e the faith of the 3postles, an! such as the <or! comman!e! them to ha e" )or which is more strange, that a mountain shoul! !escen! into the seaE or that mountains of water shoul! stiffen of a su!!en, an!, firm as a rock only at an ol! manGs feet, shoul! flow softly e erywhere elseJ 3ll the city won!ere!E an! the greatness of the sign was bruite! abroa! e en at -alo" (hen the ol! man !isco ere! that, he fle! secretly by night in a little boat, an! fin!ing a merchantman after two !ays, saile! for Cyprus" Between Baleae an! Cythera L.4.M they were met by pirates, who ha! left their essels un!er the shore, an! came up in two large galleys, worke! not with sails, but oars" 3s the rowers swept the billows, all on boar! began to tremble, weep, run about, get han!spikes rea!y, an!, as if one messenger was not enough, ie with each other in telling the ol! man that pirates were at han!" He looke! out at them an! smile!" Then turning to his !isciples, $? ye of little faith,$ he sai!E $wherefore !o ye !oubtJ 3re these more in number than PharaohGs armyJ &et they were all !rowne! when Go! so wille!"$ (hile he spoke, the hostile keels, with foaming beaks, were but a short stoneGs throw off" He then stoo! on the shipGs bow, an! stretching out his han! against them, $<et it be enough,$ he sai!, $to ha e come thus far"$ ? won!rous faith1 The boats instantly sprang back, an! ma!e stern> way, although the oars impelle! them in the opposite !irection" The pirates were astonishe!, ha ing no wish to return back>foremost, an! struggle! with all their might to reach the shipE but were carrie! to the shore again, much faster than they ha! come" % pass o er the rest, lest by telling e ery story % make the olume too long" This only % will say, that, while he saile! prosperously through the Cycla!es, he hear! the oices of foul spirits, calling here an! there out of the towns an! illages, an! running together on the beaches" -o he came to Paphos, the city of Cyprus, famous once in poetsG songs, which now, shaken !own by freFuent earthFuakes, only shows what it has been of yore by the foun!ations of its ruins" There he !welt meanly near the secon! milestone out of the city, rejoicing much that he was li ing Fuietly for a few !ays" But not three weeks were past, ere throughout the whole islan! whosoe er ha! unclean spirits began to cry that Hilarion the ser ant of Christ was come, an! that they must hasten to him" -alonica, Curium, <apetha, an! the other towns, all crie! this together, most saying that they knew Hilarion, an! that he was truly a ser ant of Go!E but where he was they knew not" (ithin a month, nearly 455 men an! women were gathere! together to him" (hom when he saw, grie ing that they woul! not suffer him to rest, raging, as it were to re enge himself, he scourge! them with such an instancy of prayer, that some were cure! at once, some after two or three !ays, an! all within a week"

-o staying there two years, an! always me!itating flight, he sent Hesychius to Palestine, to salute the brethren, isit the ashes of the monastery, an! return in the spring" (hen he returne!, an! Hilarion was longing to sail again to Egypt,>>that is, to the cattle pastures, L.4:aM because there is no Christian there, but only a fierce an! barbarous folk,>>he persua!e! the ol! man rather to with!raw into some more secret spot in the islan! itself" 3n! looking roun! it long till he ha! e+amine! it all o er, he le! him away twel e miles from the sea, among lonely an! rough mountains, where they coul! har!ly climb up, creeping on han!s an! knees" (hen they were within, they behel! a spot terrible an! ery lonely, surroun!e! with trees, which ha!, too, waters falling from the brow of a cliff, an! a most pleasant little gar!en, an! many fruit>trees> >the fruit of which, howe er, Hilarion ne er ate>>an! near it the ruin of a ery ancient temple, L.4:bM out of which Iso he an! his !isciples a erre!K the oices of so many !aemons resoun!e! !ay an! night, that you woul! ha e fancie! an army there" (ith which he was e+cee!ingly !elighte!, because he ha! his foes close to himE an! !welt therein fi e yearsE an! Iwhile Hesychius often isite! himK he was much cheere! up in this last perio! of his life, because owing to the roughness an! !ifficulty of the groun!, an! the multitu!e of ghosts Ias was commonly reporte!K, few, or none, e er !are climb up to him" But one !ay, going out of the little gar!en, he saw a man paralytic in all his limbs, lying before the gateE an! ha ing aske! Hesychius who he was, an! how he ha! come, he was tol! that the man was the stewar! of a small estate, an! that to him the gar!en, in which they were, belonge!" Hilarion, weeping o er him, an! stretching a han! to him as he lay, sai!, $% say to thee, in the name of @esus Christ our <or!, arise an! walk"$ (on!erful was the rapi!ity of the effect" The wor!s were yet in his mouth, when the limbs, strengthene!, raise! the man upon his feet" 3s soon as it was known, the nee!s of many conFuere! the !ifficulty of the groun!, an! the want of a path, while all in the neighbourhoo! watche! nothing so carefully, as that he shoul! not by some plan slip away from them" )or the report ha! been sprea! about him, that he coul! not remain long in the same placeE which ne ertheless he !i! not !o from any caprice, or chil!ishness, but to escape honour an! importunityE for he always longe! after silence, an! an ignoble life" -o, in the eightieth year of his age, while Hesychius was absent, he wrote a short letter, by way of testament, with his own han!, lea ing to Hesychius all his richesE namely, his Gospel>book, an! a sackcloth>shirt, hoo!, an! mantle" )or his ser ant ha! !ie! a few !ays before" Bany religious men came to him from Paphos while he was sick, especially because they ha! hear! that he ha! sai! that now he was going to migrate to the <or!, an! be free! from the chains of the bo!y" There came also Constantia, a high>born la!y, whose son>in>law an! !aughter he ha! !eli ere! from !eath by anointing them with oil" 3n! he ma!e them all swear, that he shoul! not be kept an hour after his !eath, but co ere! up with earth in that same gar!en, clothe!, as he was, in his haircloth shirt, hoo!, an! rustic cloak" 3n! now little heat was left in his bo!y, an! nothing of a li ing man was left, e+cept his reason2 an! yet, with open eyes, he went on saying, $Go forth, what fearest thouJ Go forth, my soul, what !oubtest thouJ Aigh se enty years hast thou ser e! Christ, an! !ost thou fear !eathJ$ (ith these wor!s, he breathe! out his soul" They co ere! him forthwith in earth, an! tol! them in the city that he was burie!, before it was known that he was !ea!"

The holy man Hesychius hear! this in PalestineE reache! CyprusE an! preten!ing, in or!er to pre ent suspicion on the part of the neighbours, who guar!e! the spot !iligently, that he wishe! to !well in that same gar!en, he, after some ten months, with e+treme peril of his life, stole the corpse" He carrie! it to Baiuma, followe! by whole crow!s of monks an! townsfolk, an! place! it in the ol! monastery, with the shirt, hoo!, an! cloak unhurtE the whole bo!y perfect, as if ali e, an! fragrant with such strong o!our, that it seeme! to ha e ha! unguents poure! o er it" % think that % ought not, in the en! of my book, to be silent about the !e otion of that most holy woman Constantia, who, hearing that the bo!y of Hilarion, the ser ant of Go!, was gone to Palestine, straightway ga e up the ghost, pro ing by her ery !eath her true lo e for the ser ant of Go!" )or she was wont to pass nights in watching his sepulchre, an! to con erse with him as if he were present, in or!er to assist her prayers" &ou may see, e en to this !ay, a won!erful contention between the folk of Palestine an! the Cypriots, the former saying that they ha e the bo!y, the latter that they ha e the soul, of Hilarion" 3n! yet, in both places, great signs are worke! !ailyE but most in the little gar!en in CyprusE perhaps because he lo e! that place the best" -uch is the story of Hilarion" His name still lingers in $the place he lo e! the best"$ $To this !ay,$ % Fuote this fact from B" !e BontalembertGs work, $the Cypriots, confoun!ing in their memories legen!s of goo! an! of e il, the ictories of the soul an! the triumph of the senses, gi e to the ruins of one of those strong castles built by the <usignans, which comman! their isle, the !ouble name of the Castle of -t" Hilarion, an! the Castle of the Go! of <o e"$ But how intense must ha e been the longing for solitu!e which !ro e the ol! man to tra el on foot from -yria to the Egyptian !esert, across the pathless westwar! waste, e en to the ?asis an! the utmost limits of the Egyptian pro inceE an! then to -icily, to the 3!riatic, an! at last to a !istant isle of Greece" 3n! shall we blame him for that longingJ He seems to ha e !one his !uty earnestly, accor!ing to his own light, towar!s his fellow>creatures whene er he met them" But he seems to ha e foun! that noise an! crow!, !isplay an! honour, were not altogether wholesome for his own soulE an! in or!er that he might be a better man he !esire! again an! again to flee, that he might collect himself, an! be alone with Aature an! with Go!" (e, here in Englan!, like the ol! Greeks an! ,omans, !wellers in the busy mart of ci iliHe! life, ha e got to regar! mere bustle as so integral an element of human life, that we consi!er a lo e of solitu!e a mark of eccentricity, an!, if we meet any one who lo es to be alone, are afrai! that he must nee!s be going ma!2 an! that with too great solitu!e comes the !anger of too great self>consciousness, an! e en at last of insanity, none can !oubt" But still we must remember, on the other han!, that without solitu!e, without contemplation, without habitual collection an! re> collection of our own sel es from time to time, no great purpose is carrie! out, an! no great work can be !oneE an! that it is the bustle an! hurry of our mo!ern life which causes shallow thought, unstable purpose, an! waste! energy, in too many who woul! be better an! wiser, stronger an! happier, if they woul! !e ote more time to silence an! me!itationE if they woul! commune with their own heart in their chamber, an! be still" E en in art an! in mechanical science, those who ha e !one great work upon the earth ha e been men gi en to solitary me!itation" (hen Brin!ley, the engineer, it is

sai!, ha! a !ifficult problem to sol e, he use! to go to be!, an! stay there till he ha! worke! it out" Turner, the greatest nature> painter of this or any other age, spent hours upon hours in mere contemplation of nature, without using his pencil at all" %t is sai! of him that he was seen to spen! a whole !ay, sitting upon a rock, an! throwing pebbles into a lakeE an! when at e ening his fellow painters showe! their !ayGs sketches, an! rallie! him upon ha ing !one nothing, he answere! them, $% ha e !one this at least2 % ha e learnt how a lake looks when pebbles are thrown into it"$ 3n! if this silent labour, this stea!fast thought are reFuire! e en for outwar! arts an! sciences, how much more for the highest of all arts, the !eepest of all sciences, that which in ol es the Fuestions>>who are weJ an! where are weJ who is Go!J an! what are we to Go!, an! He to usJ>>namely, the science of being goo!, which !eals not with time merely, but with eternity" Ao retirement, no loneliness, no perio! of earnest an! solemn me!itation, can be misspent which helps us towar!s that goal" 3n! therefore it was that Hilarion longe! to be aloneE alone with Go!E an! with Aature, which spoke to him of Go!" )or these ol! hermits, though they neither talke! nor wrote concerning scenery, nor painte! pictures of it as we !o now, ha! many of them a clear an! intense instinct of the beauty an! the meaning of outwar! AatureE as 3ntony surely ha! when he sai! that the worl! aroun! was his book, wherein he rea! the mysteries of Go!" Hilarion seems, from his story, to ha e ha! a special cra ing for the sea" Perhaps his early sojourn on the low san!hills of the Philistine shore, as he watche! the ti!eless Be!iterranean, rolling an! breaking for e er upon the same beach, ha! taught him to say with the ol! prophet as he thought of the wicke! an! still half i!olatrous cities of the Philistine shore, $)ear ye notJ saith the <or!E (ill ye not tremble at my presence who ha e place! the san! for the boun! of the sea, for a perpetual !ecree, that it cannot pass itJ 3n! though the wa es thereof toss themsel es, yet can they not pre ailE though they roar, yet can they not pass o er" But this people has a re olte! an! rebellious heart, they are re olte! an! gone"$ Perhaps again, looking !own from the sunny -icilian cliffs of Taormino, or through the pine>cla! gulfs an! gullies of the Cypriote hills upon the blue Be!iterranean below, $3n! watching from his mountain wall The wrinkle! sea beneath him crawl,$ he ha! enjoye! an! profite! by all those images which that sight has calle! up in so many min!s before an! since" To him it may be, as to the Psalmist, the storm>swept sea picture! the instability of mortal things, while secure upon his cliff he sai! with the Psalmist, $The <or! hath set my feet upon a rock, an! or!ere! my goingsE$ an! again, $The wicke! are like a trouble! sea, casting up mire an! !irt"$ ?ften, again, looking upon that far horiHon, must his soul ha e been !rawn, as many a soul has been !rawn since, to it, an! beyon! it, as it were into a region of boun!less free!om an! perfect peace, while he sai! again with #a i!, $?h that % ha! wings like a !o eE then woul! % flee away an! be at rest1$ an! so ha e foun!, in the contemplation of the wi!e ocean, a substitute at least for the contemplation of those Eastern !eserts which seeme! the proper home for the solitary an! me!itati e philosopher" )or in!ee! in no northern country can such situations be foun! for

the monastic cell as can be foun! in those great !eserts which stretch from -yria to 3rabia, from 3rabia to Egypt, from Egypt to 3frica properly so calle!" Here an! there a northern hermit foun!, as Hilarion foun!, a fitting home by the seasi!e, on some lonely islan! or storm>beat rock, like -t" Cuthbert, off the coast of Aorthumberlan!E like -t" ,ule, on his rock at -t" 3n!rewGsE an! -t" Columba, with his e er> enerable company of missionaries, on %ona" But inlan!, the fens an! the forests were foul, unwholesome, !epressing, the haunts of fe er, ague, !elirium, as -t" Guthlac foun! at Crowlan!, an! -t" Go!ric at )inkhale" L.:5M The ast pine> woo!s which clothe the 3lpine slopes, the ast forests of beech an! oak which then sprea! o er )rance an! Germany, ga e in time shelter to many a holy hermit" But their gloom, their unwholesomeness, an! the se erity of the climate, pro!uce! in them, as in most northern ascetics, a temper of min! more melancholy, an! often more fierceE more gi en to passionate !e otion, but more gi en also to !ark superstition an! cruel self>torture, than the genial climate of the !esert pro!uce! in ol! monks of the East" (hen we think of -t" 3ntony upon his mountain, we must not picture to oursel es, unless we, too, ha e been in the East, such a mountain as we ha e e er seen" (e must not think of a brown northern moorlan!, sa!, sa age, storm>swept, snow>burie!, sa e in the brief an! uncertain summer months" (e must not picture to oursel es an 3lp, with thun!ering a alanches, roaring torrents, fierce alternations of heat an! col!, uninhabitable by mortal man, sa e !uring that short perio! of the year when the mai!ens in the sennhutt watch the cattle upon the uplan! pastures" (e must picture to oursel es mountains blaHing !ay after !ay, month after month, beneath the glorious sun an! clou!less sky, in an air so in igorating that the 3rabs can still support life there upon a few !ates each !ayE an! where, as has been sai!,>>$Ban nee!s there har!ly to eat, !rink, or sleep, for the act of breathing will gi e life enoughE$ an atmosphere of such telescopic clearness as to e+plain many of the strange stories which ha e been lately tol! of 3ntonyGs seemingly preternatural powers of isionE a colouring, which, when painters !are to put it on can as, seems to our eyes, accustome! to the Fuiet greys an! greens of Englan!, e+aggerate! an! impossible>>!istant mountains, pink an! lilac, Fui ering in pale blue haHe>> ast sheets of yellow san!, across which the lonely rock or a troop of wil! asses or gaHelles throw intense blue>black sha!ows>>rocks an! cliffs not shrou!e!, as here, in soil, much less in grass an! trees, or spotte! with lichens an! staine! with einsE but keeping each stone its natural colour, as it wastes>>if, in!ee!, it wastes at all>>un!er the action of the all but rainless air, which has left the paintings on the ol! Egyptian temples fresh an! clear for thousan!s of yearsE rocks, orange an! purple, black, white, an! yellowE an! again an! again beyon! them L.:.M glimpses, it may be, of the black Aile, an! of the long green gar!en of Egypt, an! of the !ark blue sea" The eastwar! iew from 3ntonyGs ol! home must be one of the most glorious in the worl!, sa e for its want of er!ure an! of life" )or 3ntony, as he looke! across the blue waters of the Gulf of 3kaba, across which, far abo e, the %sraelites ha! passe! in ol! times, coul! see the sacre! goal of their pilgrimage, the re! granite peaks of -inai, flaming against the blue sky with that intensity of hue which is scarcely e+aggerate!, it is sai!, by the bright scarlet colour in which -inai is always painte! in me!iae al illuminations" But the gorgeousness of colouring, though it may interest us, was not, of course, what pro!uce! the !eepest effect upon the min!s of those ol! hermits" They enjoye! Aature, not so much for her beauty, as for her perfect peace" #ay by !ay the rocks remaine! the same"

-ilently out of the Eastern !esert, !ay by !ay, the rising sun threw aloft those arrows of light, which the ol! Greeks ha! name! $the rosy fingers of the !awn"$ -ilently he passe! in full blaHe almost abo e their hea!s throughout the !ayE an! silently he !ippe! behin! the western !esert in a glory of crimson an! orange, green an! purpleE an! without an inter al of twilight, in a moment, all the lan! was !ark, an! the stars leapt out, not twinkling as in our !amper climate here, but hanging like balls of white fire in that purple southern night, through which one seems to look beyon! the stars into the infinite abyss, an! towar!s the throne of Go! himself" #ay after !ay, night after night, that gorgeous pageant passe! o er the poor hermitGs hea! without a soun!E an! though sun an! moon an! planet might change their places as the year rolle! roun!, the earth beneath his feet seeme! not to change" E ery morning he saw the same peaks in the !istance, the same rocks, the same san!>heaps aroun! his feet" He ne er hear! the tinkle of a running stream" )or weeks together he !i! not e en hear the rushing of the win!" Aow an! then a storm might sweep up the pass, whirling the san! in e!!ies, an! making the !esert for a while literally a $howling wil!ernessE$ an! when that was passe! all was as it ha! been before" The ery change of seasons must ha e been little marke! to him, sa e by the motions, if he care! to watch them, of the stars abo eE for egetation there was none to mark the !ifference between summer an! winter" %n spring of course the solitary !ate>palm here an! there threw out its spathe of young green lea es, to a!! to the number of those which, grey or brown, hung !rooping !own the stem, withering but not !ecaying for many a year in that !ry atmosphereE or perhaps the accacia bushes looke! somewhat gayer for a few weeks, an! the ,etama broom, from which as well as from the palm lea es he plaite! his baskets, threw out its yearly crop of twigsE but any greenness there might be in the egetation of spring, turne! grey in a few weeks beneath that burning sunE an! be rest of the year was one perpetual summer of !ust an! glare an! rest" 3mi! such scenes they ha! full time for thought" Aature an! man alike left it in peaceE while the labour reFuire! for sustaining life Ian! the monk wishe! for nothing more than to sustain mere lifeK was ery light" (here er water coul! be foun!, the hot sun an! the fertile soil woul! repay by abun!ant crops, perhaps twice in the year, the toil of scratching the groun! an! putting in the see!" Boreo er, the labour of the husban!man, so far from being a! erse to the contemplati e life, is of all occupations, it may be, that which promotes most Fuiet an! wholesome me!itation in the min! which cares to me!itate" The life of the !esert, when once the passions of youth were conFuere!, seems to ha e been not only a happy, but a healthy one" 3n! when we remember that the monk, clothe! from hea! to foot in woollen, an! sheltere!, too, by his sheepskin cape, escape! those iolent changes of temperature which pro!uce in the East so many fatal !iseases, an! which were so !ea!ly to the linen>clothe! inhabitants of the green lowlan!s of the Aile, we nee! not be surprise! when we rea! of the ast longe ity of many of the ol! abbotsE an! of their !eath, not by !isease, but by gentle, an! as it were wholesome natural !ecay" But if their life was easy, it was surely not ill>spent" %f ha ing few wants, an! those soon supplie!, they foun! too much time for the lu+ury of Fuiet thought, those nee! not blame them, who ha ing many wants, an! those also easily supplie!, are wont to spen! their superfluous leisure in any lu+ury sa e that of thought, abo e all sa e that of thought concerning Go!" )or it was upon Go! that these men, whate er their !efects or ignorances may ha e been, ha! set their min!s" That man was sent into the worl! to know an! to lo e,

to obey an! thereby to glorify, the Baker of his being, was the car!inal point of their cree!, as it has been of e ery cree! which e er e+ercise! any beneficial influence on the min!s of men" #ean Bilman in his $History of Christianity,$ ol" iii" page 4/C, has, while justly se ere upon the failings an! mistakes of the Eastern monks, pointe! out with eFual justice that the great !esire of knowing Go! was the prime moti e in the min! of all their best men2> > $%n some regions of the East, the sultry an! oppressi e heat, the general rela+ation of the physical system, !ispose constitutions of a certain temperament to a !reamy inertness" The in!olence an! prostration of the bo!y pro!uce a kin! of acti ity in the min!, if that may properly be calle! acti ity which is merely gi ing loose to the imagination an! the emotions as they follow out the wil! train of incoherent thought, or are agitate! by impulses of spontaneous an! ungo erne! feeling" 3scetic Christianity ministere! new aliment to this common propensity" %t ga e an object, both ague an! !eterminate enough to stimulate, yet ne er to satisfy or e+haust" The regularity of state! hours of prayer, an! of a kin! of i!le in!ustry, wea ing mats or plaiting baskets, alternate! with perio!s of morbi! reflection on the moral state of the soul, an! of mystic communion with the #eity" %t cannot in!ee! be won!ere! that this new re elation, as it were, of the #eity, this profoun! an! rational certainty of his e+istence, this infelt consciousness of his perpetual presence, these as yet unknown impressions of his infinity, his power, an! his lo e, shoul! gi e a higher character to this eremitical enthusiasm, an! attract men of loftier an! more igorous min!s within its sphere" %t was not merely the pusillanimous !rea! of encountering the trials of life which urge! the humbler spirits to seek a safe retirementE or the natural lo e of peace, an! the weariness an! satiety of life, which commen!e! this seclusion to those who were too gentle to mingle in, or who were e+hauste! with, the unprofitable turmoil of the worl!E nor was it always the an+iety to mortify the rebellious an! refractory bo!y with more a! antage" The one absorbing i!ea of the Bajesty of the Go!hea! almost seeme! to swallow up all other consi!erations" The transcen!ent nature of the Triune #eity, the relation of the !ifferent persons of the Go!hea! to each other, seeme! the only worthy object of menGs contemplati e faculties"$ 3n! surely the contemplation of the Go!hea! is no unworthy occupation for the immortal soul of any human being" But it woul! be unjust to these hermits !i! we fancy that their religion consiste! merely e en in thisE much less that it consiste! merely in !reams an! isions, or in mere state! hours of prayer" That all !i! not fulfil the i!eal of their profession is to be e+pecte!, an! is frankly confesse! by the writers of the <i es of the )athersE that there were serious faults, e en great crimes, among them is not !enie!" Those who wrote concerning them were so sure that they were on the whole goo! men, that they were not at all afrai! of saying that some of them were ba!,>>not afrai!, e en, of recor!ing, though only in !ark hints, the reason why the 3rab tribes aroun! once rose an! lai! waste si+ churches with their monasteries in the neighbourhoo! of -cetis" -t" @erome in like manner !oes not hesitate to pour out bitter complaints against many of the monks in the neighbourhoo! of Bethlehem" %t is notorious, too, that many became monks merely to escape sla ery, hunger, or conscription into the army2 =nruly an! fanatical spirits, too, grew fon! of wan!ering" Ban!s of monks on the great roa!s an! public places of the empire, Bassalians or Gyro agi, as they were calle!, wan!ere!

from pro ince to pro ince, an! cell to cell, li ing on the alms which they e+torte! from the pious, an! making up too often for protracte! fasts by outbursts of gluttony an! !runkenness" 3n! !oubtless the a erage monk, e en when well>con!ucte! himself an! in a well>con!ucte! monastery, was, like a erage men of e ery cree!, rank, or occupation, a ery common>place person, acting from ery mi+e! an! often ery Fuestionable moti esE an! aluing his sha en crown an! his sheepskin cloak, his regular hours of prayer an! his implicit obe!ience to his abbot, more highly than he alue! the fear an! the lo e of Go!" %t is so in e ery cree!" (ith some, e en now, the strict obser ance of the -abbathE with others, outwar! re erence at the Holy CommunionE with others, the freFuent hearing of sermons which suit heir own iewsE with others, continual rea!ing of pious books Ion the lessons of which they !o not actK, co ers, instea! of charity, a multitu!e of sins" But the saint, abbot, or father among these hermits was essentially the man who was not a common>place personE who was more than an ascetic, an! more than a formalistE who coul! pierce beyon! the letter to the spirit, an! see, beyon! all forms of !octrine or mo!es of life, that irtue was the one thing nee!ful" The Historia <ausiaca an! the Pratum -pirituale ha e many a story an! many a saying as weighty, beautiful, an! instructi e now as they were fifteen hun!re! years agoE stories which show that graces an! irtues such as the worl! ha! ne er seen before, sa e in the persecute! an! half>unknown Christians of the first three centuries, were culti ate! to noble fruitfulness by the monks of the East" )or their humility, obe!ience, an! re erence for their superiors it is not wise to praise them just nowE for those are Fualities which are not at present consi!ere! irtues, but rather Isa e by the sol!ierK somewhat abject icesE an! in!ee! they often carrie! them, as they !i! their abstinence, to an e+tra agant pitch" But it must be remembere!, in fairness, that if they obeye! their suppose! superiors, they ha! first chosen their superiors themsel esE that as the becoming a monk at all was an assertion of self>will an! in!epen!ence, whether for goo! or e il, so their re erence for their abbots was a oluntary loyalty to one who they fancie! ha! a right to rule them, because he was wiser an! better than theyE a feeling which some ha e foun! not !egra!ing, but ennoblingE an! the parent, not of ser ility, but of true free!om" 3n! as for the obsolete irtue of humility, that still remains true which a oice sai! to 3ntony, when he saw the snares which were sprea! o er the whole earth, an! aske!, sighing, $(ho can pass safely o er theseJ$ an! the oice answere!, $Humility alone"$ )or the rest, if the -ermon on the Bount mean anything, as a practical rule of life for Christian men, then these monks were surely justifie! in trying to obey it, for to obey it they surely trie!" The (or!s of the El!ers, to which % ha e alrea!y allu!e!, an! the <ausiaca of Palla!ius likewise, are full of precious scraps of moral wis!om, sayings, an! anec!otes, full of nobleness, purity, pathos, insight into character, an! often instinct with a Fuiet humour, which seems to ha e been, in the ?l! worl!, peculiar to the Egyptians, as it is, in the Aew, almost peculiar to the ol!> fashione! Go!>fearing -cotsman" Take these e+amples, chosen almost at ran!om"

-erapion the -in!onite was so calle! because he wore nothing but a sin!on, or linen shirt" Though he coul! not rea!, he coul! say all the -criptures by heart" He coul! not Isays Palla!iusK sit Fuiet in his cell, but wan!ere! o er the worl! in utter po erty, so that he $attaine! to perfect impassibility, for with that nature he was bornE for there are !ifferences of natures, not of substances"$ -o says Palla!ius, an! goes on to tell how -erapion sol! himself to certain play>actors for twenty gol! pieces, an! laboure! for them as a sla e till he ha! won them to Christ, an! ma!e them renounce the theatreE after which he ma!e his con erts gi e the money to the poor, an! went his way" ?n one of his journeys he came to 3thens, an!, ha ing neither money nor goo!s, star e! there for three !ays" But on the fourth he went up, seemingly to the 3reopagus, an! crie!, $Ben of 3thens, help1$ 3n! when the crow! Fuestione! him, he tol! them that he ha!, since he left Egypt, fallen into the han!s of three usurers, two of whom he ha! satisfie!, but the thir! woul! not lea e him" ?n being promise! assistance, he tol! them that his three usurers were a arice, sensuality, an! hunger" ?f the two first he was ri!, ha ing neither money nor passions2 but, as he ha! eaten nothing for three !ays, the thir! was beginning to be troublesome, an! !eman!e! its usual !ebt, without paying which he coul! not well li eE whereon certain philosophers, seemly amuse! by his apologue, ga e him a gol! coin" He went to a bakerGs shop, lai! !own the coin, took up a loaf, an! went out of 3thens for e er" Then the philosophers knew that he was en!owe! with true irtueE an! when they ha! pai! the baker the price of the loaf, got back their gol!" (hen he went into <ace!aemon, he hear! that a great man there was a Banichaean, with all his family, though otherwise a goo! man" To him -erapion sol! himself as a sla e, an! within two years con erte! him an! his wife, who thenceforth treate! him not as a sla e, but as their own brother" 3fter awhile, this $-piritual a!amant,$ as Palla!ius calls him, bought his free!om of them, an! saile! for ,ome" 3t sun!own first the sailors, an! then the passengers, brought out each man his pro isions, an! ate" -erapion sat still" The crew fancie! that he was sea>sickE but when he ha! passe! a secon!, thir!, an! fourth !ay fasting, they aske!, $Ban, why !o you not eatJ$ $Because % ha e nothing to eat"$ They thought that some one ha! stolen his baggage2 but when they foun! that the man ha! absolutely nothing, they began to ask him not only how he woul! keep ali e, but how he woul! pay his fare" He only answere!, $That he ha! nothingE that they might cast him out of the ship where they ha! foun! him"$ But they answere!, $Aot for a hun!re! gol! pieces, so fa ourable was the win!,$ an! fe! him all the way to ,ome, where we lose sight of him an! his humour" To go on with almost chance Fuotations2>> -ome monks were eating at a festi al, an! one sai! to the ser ing man, $% eat nothing cooke!E tell them to bring me salt"$ The ser ing man began to talk lou!ly2 $That brother eats no cooke! meatE bring him a little salt"$ Quoth 3bbot Theo!ore2 $%t were more better for thee, brother, to eat meat in thy cell than to hear thyself talke! about in the presence of thy brethren"$

3gain2 a brother came to 3bbot -il anus, in Bount -inai, an! foun! the brethren working, an! sai!, $(hy labour you for the meat which perishethJ Bary chose the goo! part"$ The abbot sai!, $Gi e him a book to rea!, an! put him in an empty cell"$ 3bout the ninth hour the brother looke! out, to see if he woul! be calle! to eat, an! at last came to the abbot, an! aske!, $#o not the brethren eat to>!ay, abbotJ$ $&es"$ $Then why was not % calle!J$ Then Fuoth 3bbot -il anus2 $Thou art a spiritual man2 an! nee!est not their foo!" (e are carnal, an! must eat, because we work2 but thou hast chosen the better part"$ (hereat the monk was ashame!" 3s was also @ohn the !warf, who wante! to be $without care like the angels, !oing nothing but praise Go!"$ -o he threw away his cloak, left his brother the abbot, an! went into the !esert" But after se en !ays he came back, an! knocke! at the !oor" $(ho is thereJ$ aske! his brother" $@ohn"$ $Aay, @ohn is turne! into an angel, an! is no more among men"$ -o he left him outsi!e all nightE an! in the morning ga e him to un!erstan! that if he was a man he must work, but that if he was an angel, he ha! no nee! to li e in a cell" Consi!er again the saying of the great 3ntony, when some brethren were praising another in his presence" But 3ntony trie! him, an! foun! that he coul! not bear an injury" Then sai! the ol! man, $Brother, thou art like a house with an ornamente! porch, while the thie es break into it by the back !oor"$ ?r this, of 3bbot %si!ore, when the !e il tempte! him to !espair, an! tol! him that he woul! be lost after all2 $%f % !o go into torment, % shall still fin! you below me there"$ ?r this, of Peno the -yrian, when some Egyptian monks came to him an! began accusing themsel es2 $The Egyptians hi!e the irtues which they ha e, an! confess ices which they ha e not" The -yrians an! Greeks boast of irtues which they ha e not, an! hi!e ices which they ha e"$ ?r this2 ?ne ol! man sai! to another, $% am !ea! to this worl!"$ $#o not trust yourself,$ Fuoth the other, $till you are out of this worl!" %f you are !ea!, the !e il is not"$ Two ol! men li e! in the same cell, an! ha! ne er !isagree!" -ai! one to the other, $<et us ha e just one Fuarrel, like other men"$ Quoth the other2 $% !o not know what a Fuarrel is like"$ Quoth the first2 $Here>>% will put a brick between us, an! say that it is mine2 an! you shall say it is not mineE an! o er that let us ha e a contention an! a sFuabble"$ But when they put the brick between them, an! one sai!, $%t is mine,$ the other sai!, $% hope it is mine"$ 3n! when the first sai!, $%t is mine, it is not yours,$ he answere!, $%f it is yours, take it"$ -o they coul! not fin! out how to ha e a Fuarrel" 3nger, malice, re enge, were accurse! things in the eyes of these men" There was enough of them, an! too much, among their monksE but far less, !oubt not, than in the worl! outsi!e" )or within the monastery it was preache! against, represse!, punishe!E an! when repente! of, forgi en, with lo ing warnings an! wise rules against future transgression" 3bbot 3gathon use! to say, $% ne er went to sleep with a Fuarrel against any manE nor !i! %, as far as lay in me, let one who ha! a

Fuarrel against me sleep till he ha! ma!e peace"$ 3bbot %saac was aske! why the !e ils feare! him so much" $-ince % was ma!e a monk,$ he sai!, $% settle! with myself that no angry wor! shoul! come out of my mouth"$ 3n ol! man sai!, $3nger arises from these four things2 from the lust of a arice, in gi ing an! recei ingE from lo ing oneGs own opinionE from wishing to be honoure!E an! from fancying oneself a teacher an! hoping to be wiser than e erybo!y" 3n! anger obscures human reason by these four ways2 if a man hate his neighbourE or if he en y himE or if he look on him as noughtE or if he speak e il of him"$ 3 brother being injure! by another, came to 3bbot -i!onius, tol! his story, an! sai!, $% wish to a enge myself, father"$ The abbot begge! him to lea e engeance to Go!2 but when he refuse!, sai!, $Then let us pray"$ (hereon the ol! man rose, an! sai!, $Go!, thou art not necessary to us any longer, that thou shoul!est be careful of us2 for we, as this brother says, both will an! can a enge oursel es"$ 3t which that brother fell at his feet, an! begge! par!on, promising ne er to stri e with his enemy" 3bbot Poemen sai! often, $<et malice ne er o ercome thee" %f any man !o thee harm, repay him with goo!, that thou mayest conFuer e il with goo!"$ %n a congregation at -cetis, when many menGs li es an! con ersation ha! been talke! o er, 3bbot Pior hel! his tongue" 3fter it was o er, he went out, an! fille! a sack with san!, an! put it on his back" Then he took a little bag, fille! it likewise with san!, an! carrie! it before him" 3n! when the brethren aske! him what he meant, he sai!, $The sack behin! is my own sins, which are ery many2 yet % ha e cast them behin! my back, an! will not see them, nor weep o er them" But % ha e put these few sins of my brotherGs before my eyes, an! am tormenting myself o er them, an! con!emning my brother"$ 3 brother followe!, !enie! ha a parable ha ing committe! a fault, went to 3ntony, an! his brethren upbrai!ing him, an! wanting to bring him backE while he ing !one the wrong" 3bbot Paphnutius was there, an! spoke to them2>> 3n!

$% saw on the ri er bank a man sunk in the mu! up to his knees" men came to pull him out, an! thrust him in up to the neck"$ Then sai! 3ntony of Paphnutius, $Behol! a man who can in!ee! sa e souls"$

3bbot Bacarius was going up to the mountain of Aitria, an! sent his !isciple on before" The !isciple met an i!ol>priest hurrying on, an! carrying a great beam2 to whom he crie!, $(here art thou running, !e ilJ$ 3t which he was wroth, an! beat him so that he left him half !ea!, an! then ran on, an! met Bacarius, who sai!, $-al ation to thee, labourer, sal ation1$ He answere!, won!ering, $(hat goo! hast thou seen in me that thou salutest meJ$ $Because % saw thee working an! running, though ignorantly"$ To whom the priest sai!, $Touche! by thy salutation, % knew thee to be a great ser ant of Go!E for another>>% know not who>>miserable monk met me an! insulte! me, an! % ga e him blows for his wor!s"$ Then laying hol! of BacariusGs feet he sai!, $=nless thou make me a monk % will

not lea e hol! of thee"$ 3fter all, of the best of these men are tol! Iwith much honestyK many sayings which show that they felt in their min!s an! hearts that the spirit was abo e the letter2 sayings which show that they ha! at least at times glimpses of a simpler an! more possible irtueE foretastes of a perfection more human, an! it may be more !i ine" $Better,$ sai! 3bbot Hyperichius, $to eat flesh an! !rink wine, than to eat our brethrenGs flesh with bitter wor!s"$ 3 brother aske! an el!er, $Gi e me, father one thing which % may keep, an! be sa e! thereby"$ The el!er answere!, $%f thou canst be injure! an! insulte!, an! hear an! be silent, that is a great thing, an! abo e all the other comman!ments"$ ?ne of the el!ers use! to say, $(hate er a man shrinks from let him not !o to another" #ost thou shrink if any man !etracts from theeJ -peak not ill of another" #ost thou shrink if any man slan!ers thee, or if any man takes aught from theeJ #o not that or the like to another man" )or he that shall ha e kept this saying, will fin! it suffice for his sal ation"$ $The nearer,$ sai! 3bbot Buthues, $a man approaches Go!, the more he will see himself to be a sinner"$ 3bbot -isois, when he lay !ying, begge! to li e a little longer, that he might repentE an! when they won!ere!, he tol! them that he ha! not yet e en begun repentance" (hereby they saw that he was perfect in the fear of the <or!" But the most startling confession of all must ha e been that wrung from the famous Bacarius the el!er" He ha! been aske! once by a brother, to tell him a rule by which he might be sa e!E an! his answer ha! been this2>>to fly from men, to sit in his cell, an! to lament for his sins continuallyE an!, what was abo e all irtues, to keep his tongue in or!er as well as his appetite" But Iwhether before or after that answer is not sai!K he gaine! a !eeper insight into true irtue, on the !ay when Ilike 3ntony when he was repro e! by the e+ample of the tanner in 3le+an!riaK he hear! a oice telling him that he was inferior to two women who !welt in the nearest town" Catching up his staff, like 3ntony, he went off to see the won!er" The women, when Fuestione! by him as to their works, were astonishe!" They ha! been simply goo! wi es for years past, marrie! to two brothers, an! li ing in the same house" But when presse! by him, they confesse! that they ha! ne er sai! a foul wor! to each other, an! ne er Fuarrelle!" 3t one time they ha! agree! together to retire into a nunnery, but coul! not, for all their prayers, obtain the consent of their husban!s" ?n which they ha! both ma!e an oath, that they woul! ne er, to their !eaths, speak one worl!ly wor!" (hich when the blesse! Bacarius ha! hear!, he sai!, $%n truth there is neither irgin, nor marrie! woman, nor monk, nor secularE but Go! only reFuires the intention, an! ministers the spirit of life to all"$

3,-EA%=-

% shall gi e one more figure, an! that a truly tragical one, from these $<i es of the Egyptian )athers,$ namely, that of the once great an! famous 3rsenius, the )ather Ias he was at one time calle!K of the Emperors" Theo!osius, the great statesman an! warrior, who for some twenty years kept up by his single han! the falling empire of ,ome, hear! how 3rsenius was at once the most pious an! the most learne! of his subjectsE an! wishing>>half barbarian as he was himself>>that his sons shoul! be brought up, not only as scholars, but as Christians, he sent for 3rsenius to his court, an! ma!e him tutor to his two young sons Honorius an! 3rca!ius" But the two la!s ha! neither their fatherGs strength nor their fatherGs nobleness" (eak an! profligate, they frette! 3rseniusGs soul !ay by !ayE an!, at last, so goes the story, pro oke! him so far that, accor!ing to the fashion of a ,oman pe!agogue, he took the ferula an! a!ministere! to one of the princes a caning, which he no !oubt !eser e!" The young prince, in re enge, plotte! against his life" 3mong the parasites of the Palace it was not !ifficult to fin! those who woul! use steel an! poison rea!ily enough in the ser ice of an heir>apparent, an! 3rsenius fle! for his life2 an! fle!, as men were wont in those !ays, to Egypt an! the Thebai!" )orty years ol! he was when he left the court, an! forty years more he spent among the cells at -cetis, weeping !ay an! night" He migrate! afterwar!s to a place calle! Troe, an! there !ie! at the age of ninety>fi e, ha ing wept himself, say his a!mirers, almost blin!" He a oi!e!, as far as possible, behol!ing the face of manE upon the face of woman he woul! ne er look" 3 noble la!y, whom he ha! known probably in the worl!, came all the way from ,ome to see himE but he refuse! himself to her sternly, almost roughly" He ha! known too much of the fine la!ies of the ,oman courtE all he care! for was peace" There is a story of him that, changing once his !welling>place, probably from -cetis to Troe, he aske!, somewhat pee ishly, of the monks aroun! him, $(hat that noise wasJ$ They tol! him it was only the win! among the ree!s" $3las1$ he sai!, $% ha e fle! e erywhere in search of silence, an! yet here the ery ree!s speak"$ The simple an! comparati ely unlearne! monks aroun! him looke! with a profoun! respect on the philosopher, courtier, scholar, who ha! cast away the real pomps an! anities of this life, such as they ha! ne er known" There is a story tol!, plainly concerning 3rsenius, though his name is not actually mentione! in it, how a certain ol! monk saw him lying upon a softer mat than his fellows, an! in!ulge! with a few more comfortsE an! complaine! in!ignantly of his lu+ury, an! the abbotGs fa ouritism" Then aske! the abbot, $(hat !i!st thou eat before thou becamest a monkJ$ He confesse! he ha! been gla! enough to fill his stomach with a few beans" $How wert thou !resse!J$ He was gla! enough, again he confesse!, to ha e any clothes at all on his back" $(here !i!st thou sleepJ$ $?ften enough on the bare groun! in the open air,$ was the answer" $Then,$ sai! the abbot, $thou art, by thy own confession, better off as a monk than thou wast as a poor labouring man2 an! yet thou gru!gest a little comfort to one who has gi en up more lu+ury than thou hast e er behel!" This man slept beneath silken canopiesE he was carrie! in gil!e! litters, by trains of sla esE he was clothe! in purple an! fine linenE he fe! upon all the !elicacies of the great city2 an! he has gi en up all for Christ" 3n! what hast thou gi en up, that thou shoul!st gru!ge him a softer mat, or a little more foo! each !ayJ$ 3n! so the monk was abashe!, an! hel! his peace"

3s for 3rseniusGs tears, it is easy to call his grief e+aggerate! or superstitious2 but those who look on them with human eyes will par!on them, an! watch with sacre! pity the grief of a goo! man, who felt that his life ha! been an utter failure" He saw his two pupils, between whom, at their fatherGs !eath, the ,oman Empire was !i i!e! into Eastern an! (estern, grow more an! more incapable of go erning" He saw a young barbarian, whom he must ha e often met at the court in ByHantium, as Baster of the Horse, come !own from his nati e forests, an! sack the Eternal City of ,ome" He saw e il an! woe unspeakable fall on that worl! which he ha! left behin! him, till the earth was fille! with bloo!, an! 3ntichrist seeme! rea!y to appear, an! the !ay of ju!gment to be at han!" 3n! he ha! been calle! to !o what he coul! to sta e off this ruin, to make those young princes !ecree justice an! rule in ju!gment by the fear of Go!" But he ha! faile!E an! there was nothing left to him sa e self>accusation an! regret, an! !rea! lest some, at least, of the bloo! which ha! been she! might be reFuire! at his han!s" Therefore, sitting upon his palm>mat there in Troe, he wept his life awayE happier, ne ertheless, an! more honourable in the sight of Go! an! man than if, like a BaHarin or a Talleyran!, an! many another crafty politician, both in Church an! -tate, he ha! har!ene! his heart against his own mistakes, an!, by crafty intrigue an! a!roit changing of si!es at the right moment, ha! contri e! to secure for himself, out of the general ruin, honour an! power an! wealth, an! !elicate foo!, an! a lu+urious home, an! so been one of those of whom the Psalmist says, with awful irony, $-o long as thou !oest well unto thyself, men will speak goo! of thee"$ ?ne goo! !ee! at least 3rsenius ha! seen !one>>a !ee! which has laste! to all time, an! !one, too, to the eternal honour of his or!er, by a monk>>namely, the abolition of gla!iator shows" )or centuries these wholesale mur!ers ha! laste! through the ,oman ,epublic an! through the ,oman Empire" Human beings in the prime of youth an! health, capti es or sla es, con!emne! malefactors, an! e en free>born men, who hire! themsel es out to !eath, ha! been traine! to !estroy each other in the amphitheatre for the amusement, not merely of the ,oman mob, but of the ,oman la!ies" Thousan!s sometimes, in a single !ay, ha! been $Butchere! to make a ,oman holi!ay"$ The training of gla!iators ha! become a science" By their weapons an! their armour, an! their mo!es of fighting, they ha! been !istinguishe! into regular classes, of which the antiFuaries count up full eighteen2 3n!abatae, who wore helmets without any opening for the eyes, so that they were oblige! to fight blin!fol!, an! thus e+cite! the mirth of the spectatorsE Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armourE Birmillones, who ha! the image of a fish upon their helmets, an! fought in armour with a short swor!, matche! usually against the ,etiarii, who fought without armour, an! whose weapons were a casting>net an! a tri!ent" These, an! other species of fighters, were !rille! an! fe! in $families$ by <anistaeE or regular trainers, who let them out to persons wishing to e+hibit a show" (omen, e en high>born la!ies, ha! been seiHe! in former times with the ma!ness of fighting, an!, as shameless as cruel, ha! gone !own into the arena to !elight with their own woun!s an! their own gore the eyes of the ,oman people" 3n! these things were !one, an! !one too often, un!er the auspices

of the go!s, an! at their most sacre! festi als" -o !eliberate an! organiHe! a system of wholesale butchery has ne er perhaps e+iste! on this earth before or since, not e en in the worship of those Be+ican go!s whose i!ols CorteH an! his sol!iers foun! fe! with human hearts, an! the walls of their temples cruste! with human gore" Gra!ually the spirit of the Gospel ha! been triumphing o er this abomination" E er since the time of Tertullian, in the secon! century, Christian preachers an! writers ha! lifte! up their oice in the name of humanity" Towar!s the en! of the thir! century, the Emperors themsel es ha! so far yiel!e! to the oice of reason, as to forbi! by e!icts the gla!iatorial fights" But the public opinion of the mob in most of the great cities ha! been too strong both for saints an! for emperors" -t" 3ugustine himself tells us of the horrible joy which he, in his youth, ha! seen come o er the ast ring of flushe! faces at these horri! sightsE an! in 3rseniusGs own time, his miserable pupil, the weak Honorius, bethought himself of celebrating once more the heathen festi al of the -ecular Games, an! formally to allow therein an e+hibition of gla!iators" But in the mi!st of that show sprang !own into the arena of the Colosseum of ,ome an unknown monk, some sai! from Aitria, some from Phrygia, an! with his own han!s parte! the combatants in the name of Christ an! Go!" The mob, baulke! for a moment of their pleasure, sprang on him, an! stone! him to !eath" But the crime was followe! by a su!!en re ulsion of feeling" By an e!ict of the Emperor the gla!iatorial sports were forbi!!en for e erE an! the Colosseum, thenceforth useless, crumble! slowly away into that ast ruin which remains unto this !ay, purifie!, as men well sai!, from the bloo! of tens of thousan!s, by the bloo! of one true an! noble martyr"

THE HE,B%T- ?) 3-%3

The impulse which, gi en by 3ntony, ha! been propagate! in 3sia by his great pupil, Hilarion, sprea! rapi!ly far an! wi!e" Hermits took possession of the highest peaks of -inaiE an! !ri en from thence, so tra!ition tells, by fear of those mysterious noises which still haunt its cliffs, settle! at that sheltere! spot where now stan!s the con ent of -t" Catharine" Bassacre! again an! again by the wil! 3rab tribes, their places were fille! up by fresh hermits, an! their spiritual !escen!ants hol! the con ent to this !ay" Through the rich an! lu+uriant region of -yria, an! especially roun! the richest an! most lu+urious of its cities, 3ntioch, hermits settle!, an! bore, by the se erity of their li es, a noble witness against the profligacy of its inhabitants, who ha! half renounce! the paganism of their forefathers without renouncing in the least, it seems, those sins which !rew !own of ol! the engeance of a righteous Go! upon their forefathers, whether in Canaan or in -yria itself" 3t 3ntioch, about the year :C0, was born the famous Chrysostom, @ohn of the Gol!en BouthE an! near 3ntioch he became a hermit, an! !welt, so legen!s say, se eral years alone in the wil!erness2 till, ner e! by that har! training, he went forth again into the worl! to become, whether at 3ntioch or at Constantinople, the bra est as well as the most eloFuent preacher of righteousness an! rebuker of sin which the worl! ha! seen since the times of -t" Paul" The labours of Chrysostom belong not so much to this book as to a general

ecclesiastical history2 but it must not be forgotten that he, like all the great men of that age, ha! been a monk, an! kept up his monastic se erity, e en in the mi!st of the worl!, until his !ying !ay" 3t Aisibis, again, upon the ery frontier of Persia, appeare! another ery remarkable personage, known as the Great @acob or Great -t" @ames" Taking Isays his a!miring biographer, Theo!oret of CyraK to the peaks of the loftiest mountains", he passe! his life on them, in spring an! summer haunting the woo!s, with the sky for a roof, but sheltering himself in winter in a ca e" His foo! was wil! fruits an! mountain herbs" He ne er use! a fire, an!, clothe! in a goatsG hair garment, was perhaps the first of those Boscoi, or $browsing hermits,$ who li e! literally like the wil! animals in the flesh, while they trie! to li e like angels in the spirit" -ome of the stories tol! of @acob sa our of that in!icti eness which Giral!us Cambrensis, in after years, attribute! to the saints in %relan!" He was walking one !ay o er the Persian frontier, $to isit the plants of true religion$ an! $bestow on them !ue care,$ when he passe! at a fountain a troop of !amsels washing clothes an! trea!ing them with their feet" They seem, accor!ing to the story, to ha e stare! at the wil! man, instea! of eiling their faces or letting !own their garments" Ao act or wor! of ru!eness is reporte! of them2 but @acobGs mo!esty or pri!e was so much scan!aliHe! that he curse! both the fountain an! the girls" The fountain of course !rie! up forthwith, an! the !amselsG hair turne! grey" They ran weeping into the town" The townsfolk came out, an! compelle! @acob, by their prayers, to restore the water to their fountainE but the grey hair he refuse! to restore to its original hue unless the !amsels woul! come an! beg par!on publicly themsel es" The poor girls were ashame! to come, an! their hair remaine! grey e er after" 3 story like this may raise a smile in some of my rea!ers, in others something like in!ignation or contempt" But as long as such legen!s remain in these hermit li es, tol! with as much gra ity as any other portion of the biography, an! eloFuently lau!e!, as this !ee! is, by Bishop Theo!oret, as proofs of the holiness an! humanity of the saint, an honest author is boun! to notice some of them at least, an! not to gi e an alluring an! really !ishonest account of these men an! their times, by !etailing e ery anec!ote which can ele ate them in the min! of the rea!er, while he carefully omits all that may justly !isgust him" &et, after all, we are not boun! to belie e this legen!, any more than we are boun! to belie e that when @acob saw a Persian ju!ge gi e an unjust sentence, he forthwith curse!, not him, but a rock close by, which instantly crumble! into innumerable fragments, so terrifying that ju!ge that he at once re oke! his sentence, an! ga e a just !ecision" Aeither, again, nee! we belie e that it was by sen!ing, as men sai! in his own !ays, swarms of mosFuitos against the Persian in a!ers, that he put to flight their elephants an! horses2 an! yet it may be true that, in the famous siege of Aisibis, @acob playe! the patriot an! the aliant man" )or when -apor, the Persian king, came against Aisibis with all his forces, with troops of elephants, an! huge machines of war, an! towers full of archers wheele! up to the walls, an! at last, !amming the ri er itself, turne! its current against the fortifications of unburnt brick, until a ast breach was opene! in the walls, then @acob, stan!ing in the breach, encourage! by his

prayers his fellow>townsmen to stop it with stone, brick, timber, an! whatsoe er came to han!E an! -apor, the Persian -ultan, saw $that !i ine man,$ an! his goatsG>hair tunic an! cloak seeme! transforme! into a purple robe an! royal !ia!em" 3n!, whether he was seiHe! with superstitious fear, or whether the hot sun or the marshy groun! ha! infecte! his troops with !isease, or whether the mosFuito swarms actually became intolerable, the great King of Persia turne! an! went away" -o Aisibis was sa e! for a whileE to be shamefully surren!ere! to the Persians a few years afterwar!s by the weak young Emperor @o ian" ?l! 3mmianus Barcellinus, bra e sol!ier as he was, saw with !isgust the whole bo!y of citiHens or!ere! to Fuit the city within three !ays, an! $men appointe! to compel obe!ience to the or!er, with threats of !eath to e ery one who !elaye! his !epartureE an! the whole city was a scene of mourning an! lamentation, an! in e ery Fuarter nothing was hear! but one uni ersal wail, matrons tearing their hair, an! about to be !ri en from the homes in which they ha! been born an! brought upE the mother who ha! lost her chil!ren, or the wife who ha! lost her husban!, about to be torn from the place ren!ere! sacre! by their sha!es, clinging to their !oorposts, embracing their threshol!s, an! pouring forth floo!s of tears" E ery roa! was crow!e!, each person struggling away as he coul!" Bany, too, loa!e! themsel es with as much of their property as they thought they coul! carry, while lea ing behin! them abun!ant an! costly furniture, which they coul! not remo e for want of beasts of bur!en"$ L.6/M ?ne treasure, howe er, they !i! remo e, of which the ol! sol!ier 3mmianus says nothing, an! which, ha! he seen it pass him on the roa!, he woul! ha e treate! with supreme contempt" 3n! that, says Theo!oret, was the holy bo!y of $their prince an! !efen!er,$ -t" @ames the mountain hermit, roun! which the emigrants chante!, says Theo!oret, hymns of regret an! praise, $for, ha! he been ali e, that city woul! ha e ne er passe! into barbarian han!s"$ There stoo! with @acob in the breach, !uring that siege of Aisibis, a man of gentler temperament, a !isciple of his, who ha! recei e! baptism at his han!s, an! who was, like himself, a hermit>>Ephraim, or Ephrem, of E!essa, as he is commonly calle!, for, though born at Aisibis, his usual home was at E!essa, the metropolis of a -yrian> speaking race" %nto the -yrian tongue Ephrem translate! the !octrines of the Christian faith an! the Gospel history, an! sprea! abroa!, among the heathen roun!, a number of !elicate an! graceful hymns, which remain to this !ay, an! of which some ha e lately been translate! into English" L.N5M -oft, sa!, an! !reamy as they were, they ha! strength an! beauty enough in them to superse!e the Gnostic hymns of Bar!esanes an! his son Harmonius, which ha! been long popular among the -yriansE an! for centuries afterwar!s, till Christianity was swept away by the followers of Bahomet, the -yrian husban!man beguile! his toil with the pious an! plainti e melo!ies of -t" Ephrem" But Ephrem was not only a hermit an! a poet2 he was a preacher an! a missionary" %f he wept, as it was sai!, !ay an! night for his own sins an! the sins of mankin!, he !i! his best at least to cure those sins" He was a !emagogue, or lea!er of the people, for goo! an! not for e il, to whom the simple -yrians looke! up for many a year as their spiritual father" He !ie! in peace, as he sai! himself, like the labourer who has finishe! his !ayGs work, like the wan!ering merchant who returns to his fatherlan!, lea ing nothing behin! him

sa e prayers an! counsels, for $Ephrem,$ he a!!e!, $ha! neither wallet nor pilgrimGs staff"$ $His last utterance$ I% owe this fact to B" !e BontalembertGs book, $Boines !G?cci!ent$K $was a protest on behalf of the !ignity of man re!eeme! by the -on of Go!"$ $The young an! pious !aughter of the Go ernor of E!essa came weeping to recei e his latest breath" He ma!e her swear ne er again to be carrie! in a litter by sla es, GThe neck of man,G he sai!, Gshoul! bear no yoke sa e that of Christ"G$ This anec!ote is one among many which go to pro e that from the time that -t" Paul ha! !eclare! the great truth that in Christ @esus was neither bon! nor free, an! ha! proclaime! the spiritual brotherhoo! of all men in Christ, sla ery, as an institution, was !oome! to slow but certain !eath" But that !eath was accelerate! by the monastic mo ement, where er it took root" 3 class of men who came not to be ministere! unto, but to minister to othersE who pri!e! themsel es upon nee!ing fewer lu+uries than the meanest sla esE who took rank among each other an! among men not on the groun! of race, nor of official position, nor of wealth, nor e en of intellect, but simply on the groun! of irtue, was a perpetual protest against sla ery an! tyranny of e ery kin!E a perpetual witness to the worl! that, whether all men were eFual or not in the sight of Go!, the only rank among them of which Go! woul! take note, woul! be their rank in goo!ness"

B3-%<

?n the south shore of the Black -ea, eastwar! of -inope, there !welt in those !ays, at the mouth of the ,i er %ris, a hermit as gentle an! as pure as Ephrem of E!essa" Besi!e a roaring waterfall, ami! !eep glens an! !ark forests, with !istant glimpses of the stormy sea beyon!, there li e! on brea! an! water a graceful gentleman, young an! han!someE a scholar too, who ha! !runk !eeply at the fountains of Pagan philosophy an! poetry, an! ha! been e!ucate! with care at Constantinople an! at 3thens, as well as at his nati e city of Caesaraea, in the heart of 3sia Binor, now !win!le! un!er Turkish misrule into a wretche! illage" He was heir to great estatesE the glens an! forests roun! him were his own2 an! that was the use which he ma!e of them" ?n the other si!e of the torrent, his mother an! his sister, a mai!en of won!erful beauty, li e! the hermit life, on a footing of perfect eFuality with their female sla es, an! the pious women who ha! joine! them" BasilGs austerities>>or rather the se ere climate of the Black -ea forests>>brought him to an early gra e" But his short life was spent well enough" He was a poet, with an eye for the beauty of Aature>>especially for the beauty of the sea>>most rare in those timesE an! his works are full of !escriptions of scenery as healthy> min!e! as they are i i! an! graceful" %n his tra els through Egypt, Palestine, an! -yria, he ha! seen the hermits, an! longe! to emulate themE but Ito !o him justiceK his i!eal of the so>calle! $religious life$ was more practical than those of the solitaries of Egypt, who ha! been his teachers" $%t was the life$ Isays #ean Bilman L.N:MK $of the in!ustrious religious community, not of the in!olent an! solitary anchorite, which to

Basil was the perfection of Christianity" " " " The in!iscriminate charity of these institutions was to recei e orphans$ Iof which there were but too many in those e il !aysK $of all classes, for e!ucation an! maintenance2 but other chil!ren only with the consent or at the reFuest of parents, certifie! before witnessesE an! ows were by no means to be enforce! upon these youthful pupils" -la es who fle! to the monasteries were to be a!monishe! an! sent back to their owners" There is one reser ation$ Ian! that one only too necessary thenK, $that sla es were not boun! to obey their master, if he shoul! or!er what is contrary to the law of Go!" %n!ustry was to be the animating principle of these settlements" Prayer an! psalmo!y were to ha e their state! hours, but by no means to intru!e on those !e ote! to useful labour" These labours were strictly !efine!E such as were of real use to the community, not those which might contribute to ice or lu+ury" 3griculture was especially recommen!e!" The life was in no respect to be absorbe! in a perpetual mystic communion with the #eity"$ The i!eal which Basil set before him was ne er fulfille! in the East" Transporte! to the (est by -t" Bene!ict, $the father of all monks,$ it became that con entual system which !i! so much !uring the early mi!!le age, not only for the con ersion an! ci iliHation, but for the arts an! the agriculture of Europe" Basil, like his bosom frien!, Gregory of AaHianHen, ha! to go forth from his hermitage into the worl!, an! be a bishop, an! fight the battles of the true faith" But, as with Gregory, his hermit> training ha! strengthene! his soul, while it weakene! his bo!y" The Emperor *alens, supporting the 3rians against the ortho!o+, sent to Basil his Prefect of the Praetorium, an officer of the highest rank" The prefect argue!, threatene!E Basil was firm" $% ne er met,$ sai! he at last, $such bol!ness"$ $Because,$ sai! Basil, $you ne er met a bishop"$ The prefect returne! to his Emperor" $By lor!, we are conFuere!E this bishop is abo e threats" (e can !o nothing but by force"$ The Emperor shrank from that crime, an! Basil an! the ortho!o+y of his !iocese were sa e!" The rest of his life an! of GregoryGs belongs, like that of Chrysostom, to general history, an! we nee! pursue it no further here" % sai! that BasilGs i!ea of what monks shoul! be was ne er carrie! out in the East, an! it cannot be !enie! that, as the years went on, the hermit life took a form less an! less practical, an! more an! more repulsi e also" -uch men as 3ntony, Hilarion, Basil, ha! alue! the ascetic training, not so much because it ha!, as they thought, a merit in itself, but because it enable! the spirit to rise abo e the fleshE because it ga e them strength to conFuer their passions an! appetites, an! lea e their soul free to think an! act" But their !isciples, especially in -yria, seem to ha e attribute! more an! more merit to the mere act of inflicting want an! suffering on themsel es" Their souls were !arkene!, besi!es, more an! more, by a !octrine unknown to the Bible, unknown to the early Christians, an! one which !oes not seem to ha e ha! any strong hol! of the min! of 3ntony himself>>namely, that sins committe! after baptism coul! only be washe! away by tears, an! e+piate! by penanceE that for them the merits of him who !ie! for the sins of the whole worl! were of little or of no a ail" Therefore, in perpetual fear of punishment hereafter, they set their whole min!s to punish themsel es on earth, always torture! by the !rea! that they were not punishing themsel es enough, till they

crushe! !own alike bo!y, min!, an! soul into an abject superstition, the !etails of which are too repulsi e to be written here" -ome of the instances of this self>in ente! misery which are recor!e!, e en as early as the time of Theo!oret, bishop of Cyra, in the mi!!le of the fifth century, make us won!er at the puHHling inconsistencies of the human min!" #i! these poor creatures really belie e that Go! coul! be propitiate! by the torture of his own creaturesJ (hat sense coul! Theo!oret Iwho was a goo! man himselfK ha e put upon the wor!s, $Go! is goo!,$ or $Go! is lo e,$ while he was looking with satisfaction, e en with a!miration an! awe, on practices which were more fit for worshippers of BolochJ Those who think these wor!s too strong, may ju!ge for themsel es how far they apply to his story of Barana an! Cyra" Barana, then, an! Cyra were two young la!ies of Berhoea, who ha! gi en up all the pleasures of life to settle themsel es in a roofless cottage outsi!e the town" They ha! stoppe! up the !oor with stones an! clay, an! allowe! it only to be opene! at the feast of Pentecost" 3roun! them li e! certain female sla es who ha! oluntarily chosen the same life, an! who were taught an! e+horte! through a little win!ow by their mistressesE or rather, it woul! seem, by Barana alone2 for Cyra Iwho was bent !ouble by her $training$K was ne er to speak" Theo!oret, as a priest, was allowe! to enter the sacre! enclosure, an! foun! them shrou!e! from hea! to foot in long eils, so that neither their faces or han!s coul! be seenE an! un!erneath their eils, bur!ene! on e ery limb, poor wretches, with such a loa! of iron chains an! rings that a strong man, he says, coul! not ha e stoo! un!er the weight" Thus ha! they en!ure! for two>an!>forty years, e+pose! to sun an! win!, to frost an! rain, taking no foo! at times for many !ays together" % ha e no min! to finish the picture, an! still less to recor! any of the phrases of rapturous a!miration with which Bishop Theo!oret comments upon their pitiable superstition"

-%BE?A -T&<%TE-

?f all such anchorites of the far East, the most remarkable, perhaps, was the once famous -imeon -tylites>>a name almost forgotten, sa e by antiFuaries an! ecclesiastics, till Br" Tennyson ma!e it once more notorious in a poem as a!mirable for its sa age gran!ness, as for its !eep knowle!ge of human nature" He has comprehen!e! thoroughly, as it seems to me, that struggle between self>abasement an! self>conceit, between the e+aggerate! sense of sinfulness an! the e+aggerate! ambition of saintly honour, which must ha e gone on in the min!s of these ascetics>>the temper which coul! cry out one moment with perfect honesty>> $3lthough % be the basest of mankin!, )rom scalp to sole one slough an! crust of sinE$ at the ne+t>> $% will not cease to grasp the hope % hol!

?f saint!omE an! to clamour, mourn, an! sob, Battering the gates of hea en with storms of prayer" Ha e mercy, <or!, an! take away my sin" <et this a ail, just, !rea!ful, mighty Go!, This not be all in ain, that thrice ten years Thrice multiplie! by superhuman pangs, ' ' ' ' ' ' 3 sign between the mea!ow an! the clou!, Patient on this tall pillar % ha e borne ,ain, win!, frost, heat, hail, !amp, an! sleet, an! snowE 3n! % ha! hope! that ere this perio! close! Thou woul!st ha e caught me up into thy rest, #enying not these weather>beaten limbs The mee! of saints, the white robe an! the palm" ? take the meaning, <or!2 % !o not breathe, Aot whisper any murmur of complaint" Pain heape! ten hun!re!>fol! to this, were still <ess burthen, by ten>hun!re!>fol!, to bear Than were those lea!>like tons of sin, that crushG! By spirit flat before thee"$ 3!mirably also has Br" Tennyson concei e! the hermitGs secret !oubt of the truth of those miracles, which he is so often tol! that he has worke!, that he at last begins to belie e that he must ha e worke! themE an! the longing, at the same time, to justify himself to himself, by persua!ing himself that he has earne! miraculous powers" ?n this whole Fuestion of hermit miracles % shall speak at length hereafter" % ha e gi en specimens enough of them alrea!y, an! shall gi e as few as possible henceforth" There is a sameness about them which may become wearisome to those who cannot be e+pecte! to belie e them" But what the hermits themsel es thought of them, is tol! Iat least, so % suspectK only too truly by Br" Tennyson>> $? <or!, thou knowest what a man % amE 3 sinful man, concei e! an! born in sin2 GTis their own !oingE this is none of mineE <ay it not to me" 3m % to blame for this, That here come those who worship meJ Ha1 ha1 The silly people take me for a saint, 3n! bring me offerings of fruit an! flowers2 3n! %, in truth Ithou wilt bear witness hereK, Ha e all in all en!ure! as much, an! more Than many just an! holy men, whose names 3re registerG! an! calen!arG! for saints" Goo! people, you !o ill to kneel to me" (hat is it % can ha e !one to merit thisJ %t may be % ha e wrought some miracles, 3n! cure! some halt an! maime!2 but what of thatJ %t may be, no one, e en among the saints, Can match his pains with mine2 but what of thatJ &et !o not riseE for you may look on me, 3n! in your looking you may kneel to Go!" -peak, is there any of you halt an! maime!J % think you know % ha e some power with hea en )rom my long penanceE let him speak his wish" &es, % can heal him" Power goes forth from me" They say that they are healG!" 3h, hark1 they shout, G-t" -imeon -tylites1G (hy, if so,

Go! reaps a har est in me" ? my soul, Go! reaps a har est in thee" %f this be, Can % work miracles, an! not be sa e!J This is not tol! of any" They were saints" %t cannot be but that % shall be sa e!E &ea, crowne! a saint"$ " " " % shall not take the liberty of Fuoting more2 but shall a! ise all who rea! these pages to stu!y seriously Br" TennysonGs poem if they wish to un!erstan! that !arker si!e of the hermit life which became at last, in the East, the only si!e of it" )or in the East the hermits seem to ha e !egenerate!, by the time of the Bahome!an conFuest, into mere self>torturing fakeers, like those who may be seen to this !ay in Hin!ostan" The salt lost its sa our, an! in !ue tune it was trample! un!er footE an! the armies of the Boslem swept out of the East a superstition which ha! en!e! by ener ating instea! of ennobling humanity" But in justice, not only to myself, but to Br" Tennyson Iwhose !etails of -imeonGs asceticism may seem to some e+aggerate! an! impossibleK, % ha e thought fit to gi e his life at length, omitting only many of his miracles, an! certain stories of his penances, which can only e+cite horror an! !isgust, without e!ifying the rea!er" There were, then, three hermits of this name, often confoun!e!E an! all alike famous Ias were @ulian, #aniel, an! other -tylitesK for stan!ing for many years on pillars" ?ne of the -imeons is sai! by Boschus to ha e been struck by lightning, an! his !eath to ha e been miraculously re eale! to @ulian the -tylite, who li e! twenty>four miles off" Bore than one -tylite, belonging to the Bonophysite heresy of -e erus 3cephalus, was to be foun!, accor!ing to Boschus, in the East at the beginning of the se enth century" This biography is that of the el!er -imeon, who !ie! Iaccor!ing to Ce!renusK about CN5, after passing some forty or fifty years upon pillars of !ifferent heights" There is much !iscrepancy in the accounts, both of his !ate an! of his ageE but that such a person really e+iste!, an! ha! his imitators, there can be no !oubt" He is honoure! as a saint alike by the <atin an! by the Greek Churches" His life has been written by a !isciple of his name! 3ntony, who professes to ha e been with him when he !ie!E an! also by Theo!oret, who knew him well in life" Both are to be foun! in ,oswey!e, an! there seems no reason to !oubt their authenticity" % ha e therefore interwo en them both, marking the paragraphs taken from each" Theo!oret, who says that he was born in the illage of Gesa, between 3ntioch an! Cilicia, calls him that $famous -imeon>>that great miracle of the whole worl!, whom all who obey the ,oman rule knowE whom the Persians also know, an! the %n!ians, an! 3EthiopiansE nay, his fame has e en sprea! to the wan!ering -cythians, an! taught them his lo e of toil an! lo e of wis!omE$ an! says that he might be compare! with @acob the patriarch, @oseph the temperate, Boses the legislator, #a i! the king an! prophet, Bicaiah the prophet, an! the !i ine men who were like them" He tells how -imeon, as a boy, kept his fatherGs sheep, an!, being force! by hea y snow to lea e them in the fol!, went with his parents to the church, an! there hear! the Gospel which blesses those who mourn an! weep, an! calls those miserable who laugh, an! those en iable who ha e a pure heart" 3n! when he aske! a bystan!er what he woul! gain who !i! each of these

things, the man propoun!e! to him the solitary life, an! pointe! out to him the highest philosophy" This, Theo!oret says, he hear! from the saintGs own tongue" !isciple 3ntony gi es the story of his con ersion somewhat !ifferently" His

-t" -imeon Isays 3ntonyK was chosen by Go! from his birth, an! use! to stu!y how to obey an! please him" Aow his fatherGs name was -usocion, an! he was brought up by his parents" (hen he was thirteen years ol!, he was fee!ing his fatherGs sheepE an! seeing a church he left the sheep an! went in, an! hear! an epistle being rea!" 3n! when he aske! an el!er, $Baster, what is that which is rea!J$ the ol! man replie!, $)or the substance Ior ery beingK of the soul, that a man may learn to fear Go! with his whole heart, an! his whole min!"$ Quoth the blesse! -imeon, $(hat is to fear Go!J$ Quoth the el!er, $(herefore troublest thou me, my sonJ$ Quoth he, $% inFuire of thee, as of Go!" )or % wish to learn what % hear from thee, because % am ignorant an! a fool"$ The el!er answere!, $%f any man shall ha e faste! continually, an! offere! prayers e ery moment, an! shall ha e humble! himself to e ery man, an! shall not ha e lo e! gol!, nor parents, nor garments, nor possessions, an! if he honours his father an! mother, an! follows the priests of Go!, he shall inherit the eternal king!om2 but he who, on the contrary, !oes not keep those things, he shall inherit the outer !arkness which Go! hath prepare! for the !e il an! his angels" 3ll these things, my son, are heape! together in a monastery"$ Hearing this, the blesse! -imeon fell at his feet, saying, $Thou art my father an! my mother, an! my teacher of goo! works, an! gui!e to the king!om of hea en" )or thou hast gaine! my soul, which was alrea!y being sunk in per!ition" Bay the <or! repay thee again for it" )or these are the things which e!ify" % will now go into a monastery, where Go! shall chooseE an! let his will be !one on me"$ The el!er sai!, $By son, before thou enterest, hear me" Thou shalt ha e tribulationE for thou must watch an! ser e in nake!ness, an! sustain ills without ceasingE an! again thou shalt be comforte!, thou essel precious to Go!"$ 3n! forthwith the blesse! -imeon, going out of the church, went to the monastery of the holy Timotheus, a won!er>working manE an! falling !own before the gate of the monastery, he lay fi e !ays, neither eating nor !rinking" 3n! on the fifth !ay, the abbot, coming out, aske! him, $(hence art thou, my sonJ 3n! what parents hast thou, that thou art so afflicte!J ?r what is thy name, lest perchance thou hast !one some wrongJ ?r perchance thou art a sla e, an! fleest from thy masterJ$ Then the blesse! -imeon sai! with tears, $By no means, masterE but % long to be a ser ant of Go!, if he so will, because % wish to sa e my lost soul" Bi! me, therefore, enter the monastery, an! lea e allE an! sen! me away no more"$ Then the 3bbot, taking his han!, intro!uce! him into the monastery, saying to the brethren, $By sons, behol! % !eli er you this brotherE teach him the canons of the monastery"$ Aow he was in the monastery about four months, ser ing all without complaint, in which he learnt the whole Psalter by heart, recei ing e ery !ay !i ine foo!" But the foo! which he took with his brethren he ga e away secretly to the poor, not caring for the morrow" -o the brethren ate at e en2 but he only on the se enth !ay"

But one !ay, ha ing gone to the well to !raw water, he took the rope from the bucket with which the brethren !rew water, an! woun! it roun! his bo!y from his loins to his neck2 an! going in, sai! to the brethren, $% went out to !raw water, an! foun! no rope on the bucket"$ 3n! they sai!, $Hol! thy peace, brother, lest the abbot know itE till the thing has passe! o er"$ But his bo!y was woun!e! by the tightness an! roughness of the rope, because it cut him to the bone, an! sank into his flesh till it was har!ly seen" But one !ay, some of the brethren going out, foun! him gi ing his foo! to the poorE an! when they returne!, sai! to the abbot, $(hence hast thou brought us that manJ (e cannot abstain like him, for he fasts from <or!Gs !ay to <or!Gs !ay, an! gi es away his foo!"$ " " " Then the abbot, going out, foun! as was tol! him, an! sai!, $-on, what is it which the brethren tell of theeJ %s it not enough for thee to fast as we !oJ Hast thou not hear! the Gospel, saying of teachers, that the !isciple is not abo e his masterJ$ " " " The blesse! -imeon stoo! an! answere! nought" 3n! the abbot, being angry, ba!e strip him, an! foun! the rope roun! him, so that only its outsi!e appeare!E an! crie! with a lou! oice, saying, $(hence has this man come to us, wanting to !estroy the rule of the monasteryJ % pray thee !epart hence, an! go whither thou wiliest"$ 3n! with great trouble they took off the rope, an! his flesh with it, an! taking care of him, heale! him" But after he was heale! he went out of the monastery, no man knowing of it, an! entere! a !eserte! tank, in which was no water, where unclean spirits !welt" 3n! that ery night it was re eale! to the abbot, that a multitu!e of people surroun!e! the monastery with clubs an! swor!s, saying, $Gi e us -imeon the ser ant of Go!, TimotheusE else we will burn thee with thy monastery, because thou hast angere! a just man"$ 3n! when he woke, he tol! the brethren the ision, an! how he was much !isturbe! thereby" 3n! another night he saw a multitu!e of strong men stan!ing an! saying, $Gi e us -imeon the ser ant of Go!E for he is belo e! by Go! an! the angels2 why hast thou e+e! himJ He is greater than thou before Go!E for all the angels are sorry on his behalf" 3n! Go! is min!e! to set him on high in the worl!, that by him many signs may be !one, such as no man has !one"$ Then the abbot, rising, sai! with great fear to the brethren, $-eek me that man, an! bring him hither, lest perchance we all !ie on his account" He is truly a saint of Go!, for % ha e hear! an! seen great won!ers of him"$ Then all the monks went out an! searche!, but in ain, an! tol! the abbot how they ha! sought him e erywhere, sa e in the !eserte! tank" " " " Then the abbot went, with fi e brethren, to the tank" 3n! making a prayer, he went !own into it with the brethren" 3n! the blesse! -imeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying, $% beg you, ser ants of Go!, let me alone one hour, that % may ren!er up my spiritE for yet a little, an! it will fail" But my soul is ery weary, because % ha e angere! the <or!"$ But the abbot sai! to him, $Come, ser ant of Go!, that we may take thee to the monasteryE for % know concerning thee that thou art a ser ant of Go!"$ But when he woul! not, they brought him by force to the monastery" 3n! all fell at his feet, weeping, an! saying, $(e ha e sinne! against thee, ser ant of Go!E forgi e us"$ But the blesse! -imeon groane!, saying, $(herefore !o ye bur!en an unhappy man an! a sinnerJ &ou are the ser ants of Go!, an! my fathers"$ 3n! he staye! there about one year" 3fter this Isays Theo!oretK he came to the Telanassus, un!er the peak of the mountain on which he li e! till his !eathE an! ha ing

foun! there a little house, he remaine! in it shut up for three years" But eager always to increase the riches of irtue, he longe!, in imitation of the !i ine Boses an! Elias, to fast forty !aysE an! trie! to persua!e Bassus, who was then set o er the priests in the illages, to lea e nothing within by him, but to close up the !oor with clay" He spoke to him of the !ifficulty, an! warne! him not to think that a iolent !eath was a irtue" $Put by me then, father,$ he sai!, $ten loa es, an! a cruse of water, an! if % fin! my bo!y nee! sustenance, % will partake of them"$ 3t the en! of the !ays, that won!erful man of Go!, Bassus, remo e! the clay, an! going in, foun! the foo! an! water untouche!, an! -imeon lying unable to speak or mo e" Getting a sponge, he moistene! an! opene! his lips an! then ga e him the symbols of the !i ine mysteriesE an!, strengthene! by them, he arose, an! took some foo!, chewing little by little lettuces an! succory, an! such like" )rom that time, for twenty>eight years Isays Theo!oretK, he ha! remaine! fasting continually for forty !ays at a time" But custom ha! ma!e it more easy to him" )or on the first !ays he use! to stan! an! praise Go!E after that, when through emptiness he coul! stan! no longer, he use! to sit an! perform the !i ine officeE an! on the last !ay, e en lie !own" )or when his strength faile! slowly, he was force! to lie half !ea!" But after he stoo! on the column he coul! not bear to lie !own, but in ente! another way by which he coul! stan!" He fastene! a beam to the column, an! tie! himself to it by ropes, an! so passe! the forty !ays" But afterwar!s, when he ha! recei e! greater grace from on high, he !i! not want e en that help2 but stoo! for the forty !ays, taking no foo!, but strengthene! by alacrity of soul an! !i ine grace" (hen he ha! passe! three years in that little house, he took possession of the peak which has since been so famousE an! when he ha! comman!e! a wall to be ma!e roun! him, an! procure! an iron chain, twenty cubits long, he fastene! one en! of it to a great stone, an! the other to his right foot, so that he coul! not, if he wishe!, lea e those boun!s" There he li e!, continually picturing hea en to himself, an! forcing himself to contemplate things which are abo e the hea ensE for the iron bon! !i! not check the flight of his thoughts" But when the won!erful Beletius, to whom the care of the episcopate of 3ntioch was then commen!e! Ia man of sense an! pru!ence, an! a!orne! with shrew!ness of intellectK, tol! him that the iron was superfluous, since the will is able enough to impose on the bo!y the chains of reason, he ga e way, an! obeye! his persuasion" 3n! ha ing sent for a smith, he ba!e him strike off the chain" 7Here follow some painful !etails unnecessary to be translate!"; (hen, therefore, his fame was flying far an! wi!e e erywhere, all ran together, not only the neighbours, but those who were many !aysG journey off, some bringing the palsie!, some begging health for the sick, some that they might become fathers, an! all wishing to recei e from him what they ha! not recei e! from natureE an! when they ha! recei e!, an! gaine! their reFuest, they went back joyful, proclaiming the benefits they ha! obtaine!, an! sen!ing many more to beg the same" -o, as all are coming up from e ery Fuarter, an! the roa! is like a ri er, one may see gathere! in that place an ocean of men, which recei es streams from e ery si!eE not only of those who li e in our region, but %shmaelites, an! Persians, an! the 3rmenians who are subject to them, an! %beri, an! Homerites, an! those who !well beyon! them" Bany ha e come also from the e+treme west,

-paniar!s, an! Britons, an! Gauls who li e between the two" ?f %taly it is superfluous to speakE for they say that at ,ome the man has become so celebrate! that they ha e put little images of him in all the porches of the shops, pro i!ing thereby for themsel es a sort of safeguar! an! security" (hen, therefore, they came innumerable Ifor all trie! to touch him, an! recei e some blessing from those skin garments of hisK, thinking it in the first place absur! an! unfit that such e+cee!ing honour shoul! be pai! him, an! ne+t, !isliking the labour of the business, !e ise! that station on the pillar, bi!!ing one be built, first of si+ cubits, then of twel e, ne+t of twenty>two, an! now of thirty> si+" )or he longs to fly up to hea en, an! be free! from this earthly con ersation" But % belie e that this station was ma!e not without !i ine counsel" (herefore % e+hort fault>fin!ers to bri!le their tongue, an! not let it rashly loose, but rather consi!er that the <or! has often !e ise! such things, that he might profit those who were too slothful" %n proof of which, Theo!oret Fuotes the e+amples of %saiah, Hosea, an! EHekielE an! then goes on to say how Go! in like manner or!aine! this new an! a!mirable spectacle, by the no elty of it !rawing all to look, an! e+hibiting to those who came, a lesson which they coul! trust" )or the no elty of the spectacle Ihe saysK is a worthy warrant for the teachingE an! he who came to see goes away instructe! in !i ine things" 3n! as those whose lot it is to rule o er men, after a certain perio! of time, change the impressions on their coins, sometimes stamping them with images of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes of angels, an! trying, by a new mark, to make the gol! more preciousE so the King of all, a!!ing to piety an! true religion these new an! manifol! mo!es of li ing, as certain stamps on coin, e+cites to praise the tongues not only of the chil!ren of faith, but of those who are !isease! with unbelief" 3n! that so it is, not only wor!s bear witness, but facts proclaim alou!" )or many myria!s of %shmaelites, who were ensla e! in the !arkness of impiety, ha e been illuminate! by that station on the column" )or this most shining lamp, set as it were upon a can!lestick, sent forth all roun! its rays, like of the sun2 an! one may see Ias % sai!K %beri coming, an! Persians, an! 3rmenians, an! accepting !i ine baptism" But the %shmaelites, coming by tribes, 455 an! :55 at a time, an! sometimes e en .,555, !eny, with shouts, the error of their fathersE an! breaking in pieces, before that great illuminator, the images which they ha! worshippe!, an! renouncing the orgies of *enus Ifor they ha! recei e! from ancient times the worship of that !aemonK, they recei e the !i ine sacraments, an! take laws from that holy tongue, bi!!ing farewell to their ancestral rites, an! renouncing the eating of wil! asses an! camels" 3n! this % ha e seen with my own eyes, an! ha e hear! them renouncing the impiety of their fathers, an! assenting to the E angelic !octrine" But once % was in the greatest !anger2 for he himself tol! them to go to me, an! recei e priestly bene!iction, saying that they woul! thence obtain great a! antage" But they, ha ing run together in somewhat too barbarous fashion, some !ragge! me before, some behin!, some si!ewaysE an! those who were further off, scrambling o er the others, an! stretching out their han!s, plucke! my bear!, or seiHe! my clothesE an! % shoul! ha e been stifle! by their too warm onset, ha! not he, shouting out, !isperse! them all" -uch usefulness has that column, which is mocke! at by scornful men, poure! forthE an!

so great a ray of the knowle!ge of Go! has it sent forth into the min!s of barbarians" % know also of his ha ing !one another thing of this kin!2>>?ne tribe was beseeching the !i ine man, that he woul! sen! forth some prayer an! blessing for their chief2 but another tribe which was present retorte! that he ought not to bless that chief, but theirsE for the one was a most unjust man, but the other a erse to injustice" 3n! when there ha! been a great contention an! barbaric wrangling between them, they attacke! each other" But %, using many wor!s, kept e+horting them to be Fuiet, seeing that the !i ine man was able enough to gi e a blessing to both" But the one tribe kept saying, that the first chief ought not to ha e itE an! the other tribe trying to !epri e the secon! chief of it" Then he, by threatening them from abo e, an! calling them !ogs, har!ly stille! the Fuarrel" This % ha e tol!, wishing to show their great faith" )or they woul! not ha e thus gone ma! against each other, ha! they not belie e! that the !i ine manGs blessing possesses some ery great power" % saw another miracle, which was ery celebrate!" ?ne coming up Ihe, too, was a chief of a -aracen tribeK besought the !i ine personage that he woul! help a man whose limbs ha! gi en way in paralysis on the roa!E an! he sai! the misfortune ha! fallen on him in Callinicus, which is a ery large camp" (hen he was brought into the mi!st, the saint ba!e him renounce the impiety of his forefathersE an! when he willingly obeye!, he aske! him if he belie e! in the )ather, the only>begotten -on, an! the Holy -pirit" 3n! when he confesse! that he belie e!>>$Belie ing,$ sai! he, $in their names, 3rise"$ 3n! when the man ha! risen, he ba!e him carry away his chief Iwho was a ery large manK on his shoul!ers to his tent" He took him up, an! went away forthwithE while those who were present raise! their oices in praise of Go!" This he comman!e!, imitating the <or!, who ba!e the paralytic carry his be!" <et no man call this imitation tyranny" )or his saying is, $He who belie eth in me, the works which % !o, he shall !o also, an! more than these shall he !o"$ 3n!, in!ee!, we ha e seen the fulfilment of this promise" )or though the sha!ow of the <or! ne er worke! a miracle, the sha!ow of the great Peter both loose! !eath, an! !ro e out !iseases, an! put !aemons to flight" But the <or! it was who !i! also these miracles by his ser antsE an! now likewise, using his name, the !i ine -imeon works his innumerable won!ers" %t befell also that another won!er was worke!, by no means inferior to the last" )or among those who ha! belie e! in the sa ing name of the <or! Christ, an %shmaelite, of no humble rank, ha! ma!e a ow to Go!, with -imeon as witness" Aow his promise was this, that he woul! henceforth to the en! abstain from animal foo!" Transgressing this promise once, % know not how, he slew a bir!, an! !are! to eat it" But Go! being min!e! to bring him by reproof to con ersion, an! to honour his ser ant, who was a witness to the broken ow, the flesh of the bir! was change! into the nature of a stone, so that, e en if he wishe!, he coul! not thenceforth eat it" )or how coul! he, when the bo!y meant for foo! ha! turne! to stoneJ The barbarian, stupifie! by this une+pecte! sight, came with great haste to the holy man, bringing to the light the sin which he ha! hi!!en, an! proclaime! his transgression to all, begging par!on from Go!, an! in oking the help of the saint, that by his all>powerful prayers he might loose him from the bon!s of his sin" Aow many saw that miracle, an! felt that the part of the bir! about the breast consiste! of bone an! stone"

But % was not only an ear>witness of his won!ers, but also an ear> witness of his prophecies concerning futurity" )or that !rought which came, an! the great !earth of that year, an! the famine an! pestilence which followe! together, he foretol! two years before, saying that he saw a ro! which was lai! on man, stripes which woul! be inflicte! by it" Boreo er, he at another time foretol! an in asion of locusts, an! that it woul! bring no great harm, because the !i ine clemency soon follows punishment" But when thirty !ays were past, an innumerable multitu!e of them hung aloft, so that they e en cut off the sunGs rays an! threw a sha!owE an! that we all saw plainly2 but it only !amage! the cattle pastures, an! in no wise hurt the foo! of man" To me, too, who was attacke! by a certain person, he signifie! that the Fuarrel woul! en! ere a fortnight was pastE an! % learne! the truth of the pre!iction by e+perience" Boreo er there were seen by him once two ro!s, which came !own from the skies, an! fell on the eastern an! western lan!s" Aow the !i ine man sai! that they signifie! the rising of the Persian an! -cythian nations against the ,omansE an! tol! the ision to those who were by, an! with many tears an! assi!uous prayers, war!e! that !isaster, the threat whereof hung o er the earth" Certainly the Persian nation, when alrea!y arme! an! prepare! to in a!e the ,omans, was kept back Ithe !i ine will being against themK from their attempt, an! occupie! at home with their own troubles" But while % know many other cases of this kin!, % shall pass them o er to a oi! proli+ity" These are surely enough to show the spiritual contemplation of his min!" His fame was great, also, with the King of the PersiansE for as the ambassa!ors tol!, who came to him, he !iligently inFuire! what was his life, an! what his miracles" But they say that the KingGs wife also begge! oil honoure! by his blessing, an! accepte! it as the greatest of gifts" Boreo er, all the KingGs courtiers, being mo e! by his fame, an! ha ing hear! many slan!ers against him from the Bagi, inFuire! !iligently, an! ha ing learnt the truth, calle! him a !i ine manE while the rest of the crow!, coming to the muleteers an! ser ants an! sol!iers, both offere! money, an! begge! for a share in the oil of bene!iction" The Queen, too, of the %shmaelites, longing to ha e a chil!, sent first some of her most noble subjects to the saint, beseeching him that she might become a mother" 3n! when her prayer ha! been grante!, an! she ha! her heartGs !esire, she took the son who ha! been born, an! went to the !i ine ol! manE an! Ibecause women were not allowe! to approach himK sent the babe, entreating his blessing on it " " " 7Here Theo!oret puts into the QueenGs mouth wor!s which it is unnecessary to Fuote"; But how long !o % stri e to measure the !epths of the 3tlantic seaJ )or as they are unfathomable by man, so !o the things which he !oes !aily surpass narration" %, howe er, a!mire abo e all these things his en!uranceE for night an! !ay he stan!s, so as to be seen by all" )or as the !oors are taken away, an! a large part of the wall aroun! pulle! !own, he is set forth as a new an! won!rous spectacle to allE now stan!ing long, now bowing himself freFuently, an! offering a!oration to Go!" Bany of those who stan! by count these a!orationsE an! once a man with me, when he ha! counte! .,4CC, an! then misse!, ga e up counting2 but always, when he bows himself, he touches his feet with his forehea!" )or as his stomach takes foo! only once in the week, an! that ery little>>no more than is recei e! in the !i ine sacraments,>>his back a!mits of being easily bent" " " " But nothing which happens to him o erpowers his

philosophyE he bears nobly both oluntary an! in oluntary pains, an! conFuers both by rea!iness of will" There came once from 3rabena a certain goo! man, an! honoure! with the ministry of Christ" He, when he ha! come to that mountain peak,>>$Tell me,$ he crie!, $by the ery truth which con erts the human race to itself>>3rt thou a man, or an incorporeal natureJ$ But when all there were !isplease! with the Fuestion, the saint ba!e them all be silent, an! sai! to him, $(hy hast thou aske! me thisJ$ He answere!, $Because % hear e ery one saying publicly, that thou neither eatest nor sleepestE but both are properties of man, an! no one who has a human nature coul! ha e li e! without foo! an! sleep"$ Then the saint ba!e them set a la!!er to the column, an! him to come upE an! first to look at his han!s, an! then feel insi!e his cloak of skinsE an! to see not only his feet, but a se ere woun!" But when he saw that he was a man, an! the siHe of that woun!, an! learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came !own an! tol! me all" 3t the public festi als he showe! an en!urance of another kin!" )or from the setting of the sun till it ha! come again to the eastern horiHon, he stoo! all night with han!s uplift to hea en, neither soothe! with sleep nor conFuere! by fatigue" But in toils so great, an! so great a magnitu!e of !ee!s, an! multitu!e of miracles, his self>esteem is as mo!erate as if he were in !ignity the least of all men" Besi!e his mo!esty, he is easy of access of speech, an! gracious, an! answers e ery man who speaks to him, whether he be han!icraftsman, beggar, or rustic" 3n! from the bounteous Go! he has recei e! also the gift of teaching, an! making his e+hortations twice a !ay, he !elights the ears of those who hear, !iscoursing much on grace, an! setting forth the instructions of the #i ine -pirit to look up an! fly towar! hea en, an! !epart from the earth, an! imagine the king!om which is e+pecte!, an! fear the threats of Gehenna, an! !espise earthly things, an! wait for things to come" He may be seen, too, acting as ju!ge, an! gi ing right an! just !ecisions" This, an! the like, is !one after the ninth hour" )or all night, an! through the !ay to the ninth hour, he prays perpetually" 3fter that, he first sets forth the !i ine teaching to those who are presentE then ha ing hear! each manGs petition, after he has performe! some cures, he settles the Fuarrels of those between whom there is any !ispute" 3bout sunset he begins the rest of his con erse with Go!" But though he is employe! in this way, an! !oes all this, he !oes not gi e up the care of the holy Churches, sometimes fighting with the impiety of the Greeks, sometimes checking the au!acity of the @ews, sometimes putting to flight the ban!s of heretics, an! sometimes sen!ing messages concerning these last to the EmperorE sometimes, too, stirring up rulers to Heal for Go!, an! sometimes e+horting the pastors of the Churches to bestow more care upon their flocks" % ha e gone through these facts, trying to show the shower by one !rop, an! to gi e those who meet with my writing a taste on the finger of the sweetness of the honey" But there remains Ias is to be e+pecte!K much moreE an! if he shoul! li e longer, he will probably a!! still greater won!ers" " " " Thus far Theo!oret" 3ntony gi es some other !etails of -imeonGs life upon the column"

The !e il, he says, in en y transforme! himself into the likeness of an angel, shining in splen!our, with fiery horses, an! a fiery chariot, an! appeare! close to the column on which the blesse! -imeon stoo!, an! shone with glory like an angel" 3n! the !e il sai! with blan! speeches, $-imeon, hear my wor!s, which the <or! hath comman!e! thee" He has sent me, his angel, with a chariot an! horses of fire, that % may carry thee away, as % carrie! Elias" )or thy time is come" #o thou, in like wise, ascen! now with me into the chariot, because the <or! of hea en an! earth has sent it !own" <et us ascen! together into the hea ens, that the angels an! archangels may see thee, with Bary the mother of the <or!, with the 3postles an! martyrs, the confessors an! prophetsE because they rejoice to see thee, that thou mayest pray to the <or!, who hast ma!e thee after his own image" *erily % ha e spoken to thee2 !elay not to ascen!"$ -imeon, ha ing en!e! his prayer, sai!, $<or!, wilt thou carry me, a sinner, into hea enJ$ 3n! lifting his right foot that he might step into the chariot, he lifte! also his right han!, an! ma!e the sign of Christ" (hen he ha! ma!e the sign of the cross, forthwith the !e il appeare! nowhere, but anishe! with his !e ice, as !ust before the face of the win!" Then un!erstoo! -imeon that it was an art of the !e il" Ha ing reco ere! himself, therefore, he sai! to his foot, $Thou shalt not return back hence, but stan! here until my !eath, when the <or! shall sen! for me a sinner"$ 7Here follow more painful stories, which ha! best be omitte!"; But after much time, his mother, hearing of his fame, came to see him, but was forbi!!en, because no woman entere! that place" But when the blesse! -imeon hear! the oice of his mother, he sai! to her, $Bear up, my mother, a little while, an! we shall see each other, if Go! will"$ But she, hearing this, began to weep, an! tearing her hair, rebuke! him, saying, $-on, why hast thou !one thisJ %n return for the bo!y in which % bore thee, thou hast fille! me full of grief" )or the milk with which % nourishe! thee, thou hast gi en me tears" )or the kiss with which % kisse! thee, thou hast gi en me bitter pangs of heart" )or the grief an! labour which % ha e suffere!, thou hast lai! on me cruel stripes"$ 3n! she spoke so much that she ma!e us all weep" The blesse! -imeon, hearing the oice of her who bore him, put his face in his han!s an! wept bitterlyE an! comman!e! her, saying, $<a!y mother, be still a little time, an! we shall see each other in eternal rest"$ But she began to say, $By Christ, who forme! thee, if there is a probability of seeing thee, who hast been so long a stranger to me, let me see theeE or if not, let me only hear thy oice an! !ie at onceE for thy father is !ea! in sorrow because of thee" 3n! now !o not !estroy me for ery bitterness, my son"$ -aying this, for sorrow an! weeping she fell asleepE for !uring three !ays an! three nights she ha! not cease! entreating him" Then the blesse! -imeon praye! the <or! for her, an! she forthwith ga e up the ghost" But they took up her bo!y, an! brought it where he coul! see it" 3n! he sai!, weeping, $The <or! recei e thee in joy, because thou hast en!ure! tribulation for me, an! borne me, an! nurse! an! nourishe! me with labour"$ 3n! as he sai! that, his motherGs countenance perspire!, an! her bo!y was stirre! in the sight of us all" But he, lifting up his eyes to hea en, sai!, $<or! Go! of irtues, who sittest abo e the cherubim, an! searchest the foun!ations of the abyss, who knewest 3!am before he wasE who hast promise! the riches of the king!om of hea en to those who lo e theeE

who !i!st speak to Boses in the bush of fireE who blesse!st 3braham our fatherE who bringest into Para!ise the souls of the just, an! sinkest the souls of the impious to per!itionE who !i!st humble the lions, an! mitigate for thy ser ants the strong fires of the Chal!eesE who !i!st nourish Elisha by the ra ens which brought him foo!>>recei e her soul in peace, an! put her in the place of the holy fathers, for thine is the power for e er an! e er"$ 3ntony then goes on to relate the later years of the saintGs life" He tells how -imeon, some time after this, ascen!e! the column of forty cubitsE how a great !ragon IserpentK crawle! towar!s it, an! coile! roun! it, entreating Iso it seeme!K to be free! from a spike of woo! which ha! entere! its eyeE an! how, -t" -imeon took pity on it, he cause! the spike Iwhich was a cubit longK to come out" He tells how a woman, !rinking water from a jar at night, swallowe! a snake unawares, which grew within her, till she was brought to the blesse! -imeon, who comman!e! some of the water of the monastery to be gi en herE on which the serpent crawle! out of her mouth, three cubits long, an! burst imme!iatelyE an! was hung up there se en !ays, as a testimony to many" He tells how, when there was great want of water, -t" -imeon praye! till the earth opene! on the east of the monastery, an! a ca e full of water was !isco ere!, which ha! ne er faile! them to that !ay" He tells how men, sitting beneath a tree, on their way to the saint, saw a !oe go by, an! comman!e! her to stop, $by the prayers of -t" -imeonE$ which when she ha! !one, they kille! an! ate her, an! came to -t" -imeon with the skin" But they were all struck !umb, an! har!ly cure! after two years" 3n! the skin of the !oe they hung up, for a testimony to many" He tells of a huge leopar!, which slew men an! cattle all aroun!E an! how -t" -imeon ba!e sprinkle in his haunts soil or water from the monasteryE an! when men went again, they foun! the leopar! !ea!" He tells how, when -t" -imeon cure! any one, he ba!e him go home, an! honour Go! who ha! heale! him, an! not !are to say that -imeon ha! cure! him, lest a worse thing shoul! su!!enly come to himE an! not to presume to swear by the name of the <or!, for it was a gra e sinE but to swear, $whether justly or unjustly, by him, lowly an! a sinner" (herefore all the Easterns, an! barbarous tribes in those regions, swear by -imeon"$ He tells how a robber from 3ntioch, @onathan by name, fle! to -t" -imeon, an! embrace! the column, weeping bitterly, an! saying how he ha! committe! e ery crime, an! ha! come thither to repent" 3n! how the saint sai!, $?f such is the king!om of hea en2 but !o not try to tempt me, lest thou be foun! again in the sins which thou hast cast away"$ Then came the officials from 3ntioch, !eman!ing that he shoul! be gi en up, to be cast to the wil! beasts" But -imeon answere!, $By sons, % brought him not hither, but ?ne greater than %E for he helps such as this man, an! of such is the king!om of hea en" But if you can enter, carry him henceE % cannot gi e him up, for % fear him who has sent the man to me"$ 3n! they, struck with fear, went away" Then @onathan lay for se en !ays embracing the column, an! then aske! the saint lea e to go" The saint aske! him if he were going back to sinJ $Ao, lor!,$ he sai!E $but my time

is fulfille!,$ an! straightway he ga e up the ghostE an! when officials came again from 3ntioch, !eman!ing him, -imeon replie!2 $He who brought him came with a multitu!e of the hea enly host, an! is able to sen! into Tartarus your city, an! all who !well in it, who also has reconcile! this man to himselfE an! % was afrai! lest he shoul! slay me su!!enly" Therefore weary me no more, a humble man an! poor"$ But after a few years Isays 3ntonyK it befell one !ay that he bowe! himself in prayer, an! remaine! so three !ays>>that is, the )ri!ay, the -abbath, an! the <or!Gs !ay" Then % was terrifie!, an! went up to him, an! stoo! before his face, an! sai! to him, $Baster, arise2 bless usE for the people ha e been waiting three !ays an! three nights for a blessing from thee"$ 3n! he answere! me notE an! % sai! again to him2 $(herefore !ost thou grie e me, lor!J or in what ha e % offen!e!J % beseech thee, put out thy han! to meE or, perchance, thou hast alrea!y !eparte! from usJ$ 3n! seeing that he !i! not answer, % thought to tell no oneE for % feare! to touch him2 an!, stan!ing about half an hour, % bent !own, an! put my ear to listenE an! there was no breathing2 but a fragrance as of many scents rose from his bo!y" 3n! so % un!erstoo! that he reste! in the <or!E an!, turning faint, % wept most bitterlyE an!, ben!ing !own, % kisse! his eyes, an! claspe! his bear! an! hair, an! reproaching him, % sai!2 $To whom !ost thou lea e me, lor!J or where shall % seek thy angelic !octrineJ (hat answer shall % make for theeJ or whose soul will look at this column, without thee, an! not grie eJ (hat answer shall % make to the sick, when they come here to seek thee, an! fin! thee notJ (hat shall % say, poor creature that % amJ To>!ay % see theeE to>morrow % shall look right an! left, an! not fin! thee" 3n! what co ering shall % put upon thy columnJ (oe to me, when folk shall come from afar, seeking thee, an! shall not fin! thee1$ 3n!, for much sorrow, % fell asleep" 3n! forthwith he appeare! to me, an! sai!2 $% will not lea e this column, nor this place, an! this blesse! mountain, where % was illuminate!" But go !own, satisfy the people, an! sen! wor! secretly to 3ntioch, lest a tumult arise" )or % ha e gone to rest, as the <or! wille!2 but !o thou not cease to minister in this place, an! the <or! shall repay thee thy wages in hea en"$ But, rising from sleep, % sai!, in terror, $Baster, remember me in thy holy rest"$ 3n!, lifting up his garments, % fell at his feet, an! kisse! themE an!, hol!ing his han!s, % lai! them on my eyes, saying, $Bless me, % beseech thee, my lor!1$ 3n! again % wept, an! sai!, $(hat relics shall % carry away from thee as memorialsJ$ 3n! as % sai! that his bo!y was mo e!E therefore % was afrai! to touch him" 3n!, that no one might know, % came !own Fuickly, an! sent a faithful brother to the Bishop at 3ntioch" He came at once with three Bishops, an! with them 3r!aburius, the master of the sol!iers, with his people, an! stretche! curtains roun! the column, an! fastene! their clothes aroun! it" )or they were cloth of gol!" 3n! when they lai! him !own by the altar before the column, an! gathere! themsel es together, bir!s flew roun! the column, crying, an! as it were lamenting, in all menGs sightE an! the wailing of the people an! of the cattle resoun!e! for se en miles awayE yea, e en the hills, an! the fiel!s, an! the trees were sa! aroun! that placeE

for e erywhere a !ark clou! hung about it" 3n! % watche! an angel coming to isit himE an!, about the se enth hour, se en ol! men talke! with that angel, whose face was like lightning, an! his garments as snow" 3n! % watche! his oice, in fear an! trembling, as long as % coul! hear itE but what he sai! % cannot tell" But when the holy -imeon lay upon the bier, the Pope of 3ntioch, wishing to take some of his bear! for a blessing, stretche! out his han!E an! forthwith it was !rie! upE an! prayers were ma!e to Go! for him, an! so his han! was restore! again" Then, laying the corpse on the bier, they took it to 3ntioch, with psalms an! hymns" But all the people roun! that region wept, because the protection of such mighty relics was taken from them, an! because the Bishop of 3ntioch ha! sworn that no man shoul! touch his bo!y" But when they came to the fifth milestone from 3ntioch, to the illage which is calle! Beroe, no one coul! mo e him" Then a certain man, !eaf an! !umb for forty years, who ha! committe! a ery great crime, su!!enly fell !own before the bier, an! began to cry, $Thou art well come, ser ant of Go!E for thy coming will sa e me2 an! if % shall obtain the grace to li e, % will ser e thee all the !ays of my life"$ 3n!, rising, he caught hol! of one of the mules which carrie! the bier, an! forthwith mo e! himself from that place" 3n! so the man was ma!e whole from that hour" Then all going out of the city of 3ntioch recei e! the bo!y of the holy -imeon on gol! an! sil er, with psalms an! hymns, an! with many lamps brought it into the greater church, an! thence to another church, which is calle! Penitence" Boreo er, many irtues are wrought at his tomb, more than in his lifeE an! the man who was ma!e whole ser e! there till the !ay of his !eath" But many offere! treasures to the Bishop of 3ntioch for the faith, begging relics from the bo!y2 but, on account of his oath, he ne er ga e them" %, 3ntony, lowly an! a sinner, ha e set forth briefly, as far as % coul!, this lesson" But blesse! is he who has this writing in a book, an! rea!s it in the church an! house of Go!E an! when he shall ha e brought it to his memory, he shall recei e a rewar! from the Bost HighE to whom is honour, power, an! irtue, for e er an! e er" 3men" 3fter such a fantastic story as this of -imeon, it is full time Isome rea!ers may ha e thought that it was full time long sinceK to gi e my own opinion of the miracles, isions, !aemons, an! other portents which occur in the li es of these saints" % ha e refraine! from !oing so as yet, because % wishe! to begin by saying e erything on behalf of these ol! hermits which coul! honestly be sai!, an! to preju!ice my rea!ersG min!s in their fa our rather than against themE because % am certain that if we look on them merely with scorn an! ri!icule,>>if we !o not acknowle!ge an! honour all in them which was noble, irtuous, an! honest,>>we shall ne er be able to combat their errors, either in our own hearts or in those of our chil!ren2 an! that we may ha e nee! to !o so is but too probable" %n this age, as in e ery other age of materialism an! practical atheism, a re ulsion in fa our of superstition is at han!E % may say is taking place roun! us now" #octrines are tolerate! as possibly true,>> persons are regar!e! with respect an! a!miration, who woul! ha e been looke! on, e en fifty years ago, if not with horror, yet with

contempt, as beneath the serious notice of e!ucate! English people" But it is this ery contempt which has brought about the change of opinion concerning them" %t has been !isco ere! that they were not altogether so absur! as they seeme!E that the public min!, in its ignorance, has been unjust to themE an!, in hasty repentance for that injustice, too many are rea!y to listen to those who will tell them that these things are not absur! at all>>that there is no absur!ity in belie ing that the leg>bone of -t" -imon -tock may possess miraculous powers, or that the spirits of the !eparte! communicate with their frien!s by rapping on the table" The ugly after>crop of superstition which is growing up among us now is the just an! natural punishment of our materialism>>% may say, of our practical atheism" )or those who will not belie e in the real spiritual worl!, in which each manGs soul stan!s face to face all !ay long with 3lmighty Go!, the )ather, the -on, an! the Holy Ghost, are sure at last to cra e after some false spiritual worl!, an! seek, like the e il an! profligate generation of the @ews, after isible signs an! material won!ers" 3n! those who will not belie e that the one true an! li ing Go! is abo e their path an! about their be! an! spieth out all their ways, an! that in him they li e an! mo e an! ha e their being, are but too likely at last to people with fancie! saints an! !aemons that oi! in the imagination an! in the heart which their own unbelief has ma!e" 3re we then to suppose that these ol! hermits ha! lost faith in Go!J ?n the contrary, they were the only men in that !ay who ha! faith in Go!" 3n!, if they ha! faith in any other things or persons besi!e Go!, they merely share! in the general popular ignorance an! mistakes of their own ageE an! we must not ju!ge those who, born in an age of !arkness, were struggling earnestly towar! the light, as we ju!ge those who, born in an age of scientific light, are retiring of their own will back into the !arkness" Before % enter upon the cre!ibility of these allege! saintsG miracles, % must guar! my rea!ers carefully from supposing that % think miracles impossible" Hea en forbi!" He woul! be a ery rash person who shoul! !o that, in a worl! which swarms with greater won!ers than those recor!e! in the biography of a saint" )or, after all, which is more won!erful, that Go! shoul! be able to restore the !ea! to life, or that he shoul! be able to gi e life at allJ 3gain, as for these miracles being contrary to our e+perience, that is no ery ali! argument against themE for eFually contrary to our e+perience is e ery new !isco ery of science, e ery strange phenomenon among plants an! animals, e ery new e+periment in a chemical lecture" The more we know of science the more we must confess, that nothing is too strange to be true2 an! therefore we must not blame or laugh at those who in ol! times belie e! in strange things which were not true" They ha! an honest an! rational sense of the infinite an! won!erful nature of the uni erse, an! of their own ignorance about itE an! they were rea!y to belie e anything, as the truly wise man will be rea!y also" ?nly, from ignorance of the laws of the uni erse, they !i! not know what was likely to be true an! what was notE an! therefore they belie e! many things which e+perience has pro e! to be falseE just as -eba or any of the early naturalists were rea!y to belie e in si+>legge! !ragons, or in the fatal power of the basiliskGs eyeE fancies which, if they ha! been facts, woul! not ha e been nearly as won!erful as the transformation of the commonest insect, or the fertiliHation of the meanest wee!2 but which are rejecte! now, not because they are too won!erful, but

simply because e+perience has pro e! them to be untrue" 3n! e+perience, it must be remembere!, is the only soun! test of truth" 3s long as men will settle beforehan! for themsel es, without e+perience, what they ought to see, so long will they be perpetually fancying that they or others ha e seen itE an! their faith, as it is falsely calle!, will !elu!e not only their reason, but their ery hearing, sight, an! touch" %n this age we see no supernatural pro!igies, because there are none to seeE an! when we are tol! that the reason why we see no pro!igies is because we ha e no faith, we answer Iif we be sensibleK, @ust so" 3s long as people ha! faith, in plain English belie e!, that they coul! be magically cure! of a !isease, they thought that they or others were so cure!" 3s long as they belie e! that ghosts coul! be seen, e ery silly person saw them" 3s long as they belie e! that !aemons transforme! themsel es into an animalGs shape, they sai!, $The !e il croake! at me this morning in the shape of a ra enE an! therefore my horse fell with me"$ 3s long as they belie e! that witches coul! curse them, they belie e! that an ol! woman in the ne+t parish ha! o erlooke! them, their cattle, an! their cropsE an! that therefore they were poor, !isease!, an! unfortunate" These !reams, which were common among the peasants in remote !istricts fi e>an!>twenty years ago, ha e anishe!, simply from the sprea! Iby the grace of Go!, as % hol!K of an in!ucti e habit of min!E of the habit of looking coolly, bol!ly, carefully, at factsE till now, e en among the most ignorant peasantry, the woman who says that she has seen a ghost is likely not to be complimente! on her assertion" But it !oes not follow that that womanGs gran!mother, when she sai! that she saw a ghost, was a consciously !ishonest personE on the contrary, so comple+ an! contra!ictory is human nature, she woul! ha e been, probably, a person of more than a erage intellect an! earnestnessE an! her instinct of the in isible an! the infinite Iwhich is that which raises man abo e the brutesK woul! ha e been, because misinforme!, the honourable cause of her error" 3n! thus we may belie e of the goo! hermits, of whom pro!igies are recor!e!" 3s to the truth of the pro!igies themsel es, there are se eral ways of looking at them" )irst, we may neither belie e nor !isbelie e themE but talk of them as $!e out fairy tales,$ religious romances, an! allegoriesE an! so sa e oursel es the trouble of ju!ging whether they were true" That is at least an easy an! pleasant metho!E ery fashionable in a careless, unbelie ing age like this2 but in following it we shall be somewhat cowar!lyE for there is har!ly any matter a clear ju!gment on which is more important just now than these same saintsG miracles" Ae+t, we may belie e them utterly an! allE an! that is also an easy an! pleasant metho!" But if we follow it, we shall be force! to belie e, among other facts, that -t" Paphnutius was carrie! miraculously across a ri er, because he was too mo!est to un!ress himself an! wa!eE that -t" Helenus ro!e a sa age croco!ile across a ri er, an! then comman!e! it to !ieE an! that it !ie! accor!ingly upon the spotE an! that -t" Goar, entering the palace of the 3rchbishop of Tre es, hung his cape on a sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg" 3n! many other like things we shall be force! to belie e, with which this book has no concern" ?r, again, we may belie e as much as we can, because we shoul! like, if we coul!, to belie e all" But as we ha e not>>no man has as yet>

>any criterion by which we can ju!ge how much of these stories we ought to belie e an! how much not, which actually happene! an! which !i! not, therefore we shall en! Ias not only the most earnest an! pious, but the most clear an! logical persons, who ha e taken up this iew, ha e en!e! alrea!yK by belie ing all2 which is an en! not to be !esire!" ?r we may belie e as few as possible of them, because we shoul! like, if we coul!, to belie e none" 3n! this metho!, for the reason aforesai! Inamely, that there is no criterion by which we can settle what to belie e an! what notK, usually en!s in belie ing none at all" This, of belie ing none at all, is the last metho!E an! this, % confess fairly, % am incline! to think is the right oneE an! that these goo! hermits worke! no real miracles an! saw no real isions whatsoe er" % confess that this is a ery serious assertion" )or there is as much e i!ence in fa our of these hermitsG miracles an! isions as there is, with most men, of the e+istence of ChinaE an! much more than there, with most men, is of the earthGs going roun! the sun" But the truth is, that e i!ence, in most matters of importance, is worth ery little" *ery few people !eci!e a Fuestion on its facts, but on their own preju!ices as to what they woul! like to ha e happene!" *ery few people are ju!ges of e i!enceE not e en of their own eyes an! ears" *ery few persons, when they see a thing, know what they ha e seen, an! what not" They tell you Fuite honestly, not what they saw, but what they think they ought to ha e seen, or shoul! like to ha e seen" %t is a fact too often con eniently forgotten, that in e ery human crow! the majority will be more or less ba!, or at least foolishE the sla es of anger, spite, conceit, anity, sor!i! hope, an! sor!i! fear" But let them be as honest an! as irtuous as they may, pleasure, terror, an! the !esire of seeming to ha e seen or hear! more than their neighbours, an! all about it, make them e+aggerate" %f you take apart fi e honest men, who all stoo! by an! saw the same man !o anything strange, offensi e, or e en e+citing, no two of them will gi e you Fuite the same account of it" %f you lea e them together, while e+cite!, an hour before you Fuestion them, they will ha e compare! notes an! ma!e up one story, which will contain all their mistakes combine!E an! it will reFuire the skill of a practise! barrister to pick the grain of wheat out of the chaff" Boreo er, when people are crow!e! together un!er any e+citement, there is nothing which they will not make each other belie e" They will make each other belie e in spirit>rapping, table>turning, the mesmeric flui!, electro>biologyE that they saw the lion on Aorthumberlan! House wagging his tailE L45:M that witches ha e been seen ri!ing in the airE that the @ews ha! poisone! the wellsE that>> but why go further into the sa! catalogue of human absur!ities, an! the crimes which ha e followe! themJ E ery one is ashame! of not seeing what e ery one else sees, an! persua!es himself against his own eye sight for fear of seeming stupi! or ill>con!itione!E an! therefore in all e i!ence, the fewer witnesses, the more truth, because the e i!ence of ten men is worth more than that of a hun!re! togetherE an! the e i!ence of a thousan! men together is worth still less" Aow, if people are sa age an! ignorant, !isease! an! po erty>

strickenE e en if they are merely e+cite! an! cre!ulous, an! Fuite sure that something won!erful must happen, then they will be also Fuite certain that something won!erful has happene!E an! their e i!ence will be worth nothing at all" Boreo er, suppose that something really won!erful has happene!E suppose, for instance, that some ner ous or paralytic person has been su!!enly restore! to strength by the comman! of a saint or of some other remarkable man" This is Fuite possible, % may say commonE an! it is owing neither to physical nor to so>calle! spiritual causes, but simply to the power which a strong min! has o er a weak one, to make it e+ert itself, an! cure itself by its own will, though but for a time" (hen this goo! news comes to be tol!, an! to pass from mouth to mouth, it en!s of Fuite a !ifferent shape from that in which it began" %t has been a!!e! to, taken from, twiste! in e ery !irection accor!ing to the fancy or the carelessness of each teller, till what really happene! in the first case no one will be able to sayE L45CM an! this is, therefore, what actually happene!, in the case of these reporte! won!ers" Boreo er Ian! this is the most important consi!eration of allK for men to be fair ju!ges of what really happens, they must ha e somewhat soun! min!s in somewhat soun! bo!iesE which no man can ha e Ihowe er honest an! irtuousK who gi es himself up, as !i! these ol! hermits, to fasting an! igils" That continue! sleeplessness pro!uces !elusions, an! at last actual ma!ness, e ery physician knowsE an! they know also, as many a poor sailor has known when star ing on a wreck, an! many a poor sol!ier in such a retreat as that of Aapoleon from Boscow, that e+treme hunger an! thirst pro!uce !elusions also, ery similar to Ian! cause! much in the same way asK those pro!uce! by ar!ent spiritsE so that many a wretche! creature ere now has been taken up for !runkenness, who has been simply star ing to !eath" (hence it follows that these goo! hermits, by continual fasts an! igils, must ha e put themsel es Ian! their histories pro e that they !i! put themsel esK into a state of mental !isease, in which their e i!ence was worth nothingE a state in which the min! cannot !istinguish between facts an! !reamsE in which life itself is one !reamE in which Ias in the case of ma!ness, or of a fe erish chil!K the brain cannot !istinguish between the objects which are outsi!e it an! the imaginations which are insi!e it" 3n! it is plain, that the more earnest an! pious, an! therefore the more ascetic, one of these goo! men was, the more utterly woul! his brain be in a state of chronic !isease" Go! forbi! that we shoul! scorn them, therefore, or think the worse of them in any way" They were animate! by a truly noble purpose, the resolution to be goo! accor!ing to their lightE they carrie! out that purpose with heroical en!urance, an! they ha e their rewar!2 but this we must say, if we be rational people, that on their metho! of holiness, the more holy any one of them was, the less trustworthy was his account of any matter whatsoe erE an! that the hermitGs peculiar temptations IFuite unknown to the hun!re!s of unmarrie! persons who lea! Fuiet an! irtuous, because rational an! healthy, li esK are to be attribute!, not as they thought, to a !aemon, but to a more or less unhealthy ner ous system" %t must be remembere!, moreo er, in justice to these ol! hermits, that they !i! not in ent the belief that the air was full of !aemons" 3ll the Eastern nations ha! belie e! in Genii I@innsK, )airies IPerisK, an! #e as, #i s, or !e ils" The #e as of the early

Hin!us were beneficent beings2 to the eyes of the ol! Persians Iin their hatre! of i!olatry an! polytheismK, they appeare! e il beings, #i s, or #e ils" 3n! e en so the genii an! !aemons of the ,oman Empire became, in the eyes of the early Christians, wicke! an! cruel spirits" 3n! they ha! their reasons, an! on the whole soun! ones, for so regar!ing them" The e!ucate! classes ha! gi en up any honest an! literal worship of the ol! go!s" They were trying to e+cuse themsel es for their lingering half belief in them, by turning them into allegories, powers of nature, metaphysical abstractions, as !i! Porphyry an! %amblichus, Plotinus an! Proclus, an! the rest of the Aeo>Platonist school of aristocratic philosophers an! fine la!ies2 but the lower classes still, in e ery region, kept up their own local beliefs an! worships, generally of the most foul an! brutal kin!" The animal worship of Egypt among the lower classes was sufficiently !etestable in the time of Hero!otus" %t ha! certainly not impro e! in that of @u enal an! PersiusE an! was still less likely to ha e impro e! afterwar!s" This is a subject so shocking that it can be only hinte! at" But as a single instance>>what won!er if the early hermits of Egypt looke! on the croco!ile as something !iabolic, after seeing it, for generations untol!, pette! an! worshippe! in many a city, simply because it was the incarnate symbol of brute strength, cruelty, an! cunningJ (e must remember, also, that earlier generations Ithe ol! Aorsemen an! Germans just as much as the ol! EgyptiansK were wont to look on animals as more miraculous than we !oE as more akin, in many cases, to human beingsE as gui!e!, not by a mere blin! instinct, but by an intellect which was allie! to, an! often surpasse! manGs intellect" $The bear,$ sai! the ol! Aorsemen, $ha! ten menGs strength, an! ele en menGs witE $an! in some such light must the ol! hermits ha e looke! on the hyaena, $bellua,$ the monster par e+cellenceE or on the croco!ile, the hippopotamus, an! the poisonous snakes, which ha e been objects of terror an! a!oration in e ery country where they ha e been formi!able" (hether the hyaenas were !aemons, or were merely sent by the !aemons, -t" 3ntony an! -t" 3thanasius !o not clearly !efine, for they !i! not know" %t was enough for them that the beasts prowle! at night in those !esert cities, which were, accor!ing to the opinions, not only of the Easterns, but of the ,omans, the special haunt of ghouls, witches, an! all uncanny things" Their fien!ish laughter>>which, when hear! e en in a mo!ern menagerie, e+cites an! shakes most personGs ner es>>rang through hearts an! brains which ha! no help or comfort, sa e in Go! alone" The beast tore up the !ea! from their gra esE !e oure! alike the belate! chil! an! the foulest offalE an! was in all things a type an! incarnation of that which man ought not to be" (hy shoul! not he, so like the worst of men, ha e some bon! or kin!re! with the e il beings who were not menJ (hy shoul! not the graceful an! !ea!ly cobra, the horri! cerastes, the huge throttling python, an! e en more, the loathly puff>a!!er, un!istinguishable from the gra el among which he lay coile!, till he leape! furiously an! unswer ing, as if shot from a bow, upon his prey>>why shoul! not they too be kin!re! to that e il power who ha! been, in the holiest an! most ancient books, personifie! by the name of the -erpentJ Before we ha e a right to say that the hermitsG iew of these !ea!ly animals was not the most rational, as well as the most natural, which they coul! possibly ha e taken up, we must put oursel es in their placesE an! look at nature as they ha! learnt to look at it, not from -cripture an! Christianity, so much as from the immemorial tra!itions of their heathen ancestors"

%f it be argue!, that they ought to ha e been well enough acFuainte! with these beasts to be aware of their merely animal nature, the answer is>>that they were probably not well acFuainte! with the beasts of the !esert" They ha! ne er, perhaps, before their $con ersion,$ left the narrow alley, well tille! an! well inhabite!, which hol!s the Aile" 3 climb from it into the barren mountains an! !eserts east an! west was a journey out of the worl! into chaos, an! the region of the unknown an! the horrible, which !eman!e! high courage from the unarme! an! effeminate Egyptian, who knew not what monster he might meet ere sun!own" Boreo er, it is ery probable that !uring these centuries of !eca!ence, in Egypt, as in other parts of the ,oman Empire, $the wil! beasts of the fiel! ha! increase!$ on the population, an! were reappearing in the more culti ate! groun!s" But these ol! hermits appear perpetually in another, an! a more humane, if not more human aspect, as the miraculous tamers of sa age beasts" Those who wish to know all which can be allege! in fa our of their ha ing possesse! such a power, shoul! rea! B" !e BontalembertGs chapter, $<es Boines et la Aature"$ L45/M 3ll that learning an! eloFuence can say in fa our of the theory is sai! thereE an! with a can!our which !eman!s from no man full belief of many beautiful but impossible stories, $tra esties of historic erity,$ which ha e probably grown up from e er> arying tra!ition in the course of ages" B" !e Bontalembert himself points out a probable e+planation of many of them2>>3n ingenious scholar of our timesL4.5M Ihe saysK has pointe! out their true an! legitimate origin>>at least in 3ncient Gaul" 3ccor!ing to him, after the gra!ual !isappearance of the Gallo>,oman population, the o+en, the horses, the !ogs ha! returne! to the wil! stateE an! it was in the forest that the Breton missionaries ha! to seek these animals, to employ them anew for !omestic use" The miracle was, to restore to man the comman! an! the enjoyment of those creatures, which Go! ha! gi en him as instruments" This theory is probable enough, an! will e+plain, !oubtless, many stories" %t may e en e+plain those of tame! wol es, who may ha e been only feral !ogs, i"e" !ogs run wil!" But it will not e+plain those in which Iin %relan! as well as in GaulK the stag appears as obeying the hermitGs comman!s" The twel e huge stags who come out of the forest to !raw the ploughs for -t" <eonor an! his monks, or those who !rew to his gra e the corpse of the %rish hermit Kellac, or those who came out of the forest to supply the place of -t" Colo!ocGs cattle, which the seigneur ha! carrie! off in re enge for his ha ing gi en sanctuary to a hunte! !eer, must ha e been wil! from the beginningE an! many another tale must remain without any e+planation whatsoe er>>sa e the simplest of all" Aeither can any such theory apply to the mar els ouche! for by -t" 3thanasius, -t" @erome, an! other contemporaries, which $show us Ito Fuote B" !e BontalembertK the most ferocious animals at the feet of such men as 3ntony, Pachomius, Bacarius, an! Hilarion, an! those who copie! them" 3t e ery page one sees wil! asses, croco!iles, hippopotami, hyaenas, an!, abo e all, lions, transforme! into respectful companions an! !ocile ser ants of these pro!igies of sanctityE an! one conclu!es thence, not that these beasts ha! reasonable souls, but that Go! knew how to glorify those who !e ote! themsel es to his glory, an! thus show how all Aature obeye! man before he was e+clu!e! from Para!ise by his !isobe!ience"$ This is, on the whole, the cause which the contemporary biographers assign for these won!ers" The hermits were belie e! to ha e

returne!, by celibacy that state of perfect parents in E!en2 an! $He that belie eth in shall he !o"$

an! penitence, to $the life of angelsE$ to innocence which was attribute! to our first therefore of them our <or!Gs wor!s were true2 me, greater things than these Iwhich % !oK

But those who are of a !ifferent opinion will seek for !ifferent causes" They will, the more they know of these stories, a!mire often their gracefulness, often their pathos, often their !eep moral significanceE they will feel the general truth of B" !e BontalembertGs wor!s2 $There is not one of them which !oes not honour an! profit human nature, an! which !oes not e+press a ictory of weakness o er force, an! of goo! o er e il"$ But if they look on physical facts as sacre! things, as the oice of Go! re eale! in the phenomena of matter, their first Fuestion will be, $3re they trueJ$ -ome of them must be !enie! utterly, like that of -t" Helenus, ri!ing an! then slaying the croco!ile" %t !i! not happen" 3bbot 3mmon L4.4aM !i! not make two !ragons guar! his cell against robbers" -t" Gerasimus L4.4bM !i! not set the lion, out of whose foot he ha! taken a thorn, to guar! his assE an! when the ass was stolen by an 3rabian camel>!ri er, he !i! not Ifancying that the lion ha! eaten the assK make him carry water in the assGs stea!" Aeither !i! the lion, when ne+t he met the thief an! the ass, bring them up, in his own justification, L4.4cM to -t" Gerasimus" -t" Costinian !i! not put a pack>sa!!le on a bear, an! make him carry a great stone" 3 lioness !i! not bring her fi e blin! whelps to a hermit, that he might gi e them sight" L4.4!M 3n!, though -ulpicius -e erus says that he saw it with his own eyes, L4.4eM it is har! to belie e the latter part of the graceful story which he tells>>of an ol! hermit whom he foun! !welling alone twel e miles from the Aile, by a well of ast !epth" ?ne o+ he ha!, whose whole work was to raise the water by a wheel" 3roun! him was a gar!en of herbs, kept rich an! green ami! the burning san!, where neither see! nor root coul! li e" The ol! man an! the o+ fe! together on the pro!uce of their common toilE but two miles off there was a single palm>tree, to which, after supper, the hermit takes his guests" Beneath the palm they fin! a lionessE but instea! of attacking them, she mo es $mo!estly$ away at the ol! manGs comman!, an! sits !own to wait for her share of !ates" -he fee!s out of his han!, like a househol! animal, an! goes her way, lea ing her guests trembling, $an! confessing how great was the irtue of the hermitGs faith, an! how great their own infirmity"$ This last story, which one woul! gla!ly belie e, were it possible, % ha e inserte! as one of those which hang on the erge of cre!ibility" %n the ery ne+t page, -ulpicius -e erus tells a story Fuite cre!ible, of a she>wolf, which he saw with his own eyes as tame as any !og" There can be no more reason to !oubt that fact than to ascribe it to a miracle" (e may e en belie e that the wolf, ha ing gnawe! to pieces the palm basket which the goo! ol! man was wea ing, went off, knowing that she ha! !one wrong, an! after a week came back, begge! par!on like a rational soul, an! was caresse!, an! gi en a !ouble share of brea!" Bany of these stories which tell of the taming of wil! beasts may be true, an! yet contain no miracle" They are ery few in number, after all, in proportion to the number of monksE they are to be counte! at most by tens, while the monks are counte! by tens of thousan!s" 3n! among many great companies of monks, there may ha e been one in!i i!ual, as there is, for instance, in many a country parish a bee>taker or a horse>tamer, of Fuiet temper an! strong ner e, an! Fuick an! sympathetic intellect,

whose power o er animals is so e+traor!inary, as to be attribute! by the superstitious an! une!ucate! to some here!itary secret, or some fairy gift" *ery powerful to attract wil! animals must ha e been the goo! hermitsG habit of sitting motionless for hours, till Ias with -t" GuthlacK the swallows sat an! sang upon his kneeE an! of mo ing slowly an! gently at his work, till Ias with -t" Karilef, while he prune! his inesK the robin came an! built in his hoo! as it hung upon a tree2 ery powerful his free!om from anger, an!, yet more important, from fear, which always calls out rage in wil! beasts, while a calm an! bol! front awes them2 an! most powerful of all, the kin!liness of heart, the lo e of companionship, which brought the wil! bison to fee! by -t" KarilefGs si!e as he praye! upon the lawnE an! the hin! to nourish -t" Giles with her milk in the jungles of the Bouches !u ,hone" There was no miracleE sa e the moral miracle that, in ages of cruelty an! slaughter, these men ha! learne! Isurely by the inspiration of Go!K how>> $He prayeth well who lo eth well Both man an! bir! an! beastE He prayeth best who lo eth best 3ll things, both great an! smallE )or the !ear Go! who lo eth us, He ma!e an! lo eth all"$ 3fter all, let these ol! <i es of the )athers tell their own tale" By their own merits let them stan! or fallE an! stan! they will in one sense2 for whatsoe er else they are not, this they are>>the histories of goo! men" Their physical science an! their !aemonology may ha e been on a par with those of the worl! aroun! them2 but they possesse! what the worl! !i! not possess, faith in the utterly goo! an! self>sacrificing Go!, an! an i!eal of irtue an! purity such as ha! ne er been seen since the first (hitsunti!e" 3n! they set themsel es to realiHe that i!eal with a simplicity, an energy, an en!urance, which were altogether heroic" How far they were right in $gi ing up the worl!$ !epen!s entirely on what the worl! was then like, an! whether there was any hope of reforming it" %t was their opinion that there was no such hopeE an! those who know best the facts which surroun!e! them, its utter fri olity, its utter iciousness, the !ea!ness which ha! fallen on art, science, philosophy, human life, whether family, social, or politicalE the pre alence of sla ery, in forms altogether hi!eous an! unmentionableE the insecurity of life an! property, whether from military an! fiscal tyranny, or from perpetual inroa!s of the so> calle! $Barbarians2$ those, % say, who know these facts best will be most incline! to belie e that the ol! hermits were wise in their generationE that the worl! was past sal ationE that it was not a wise or humane thing to marry an! bring chil!ren into the worl!E that in such a state of society, an honest an! irtuous man coul! not e+ist, an! that those who wishe! to remain honest an! irtuous must flee into the !esert, an! be alone with Go! an! their fellows" The Fuestion which ha! to be settle! then an! there, at that particular crisis of the human race, was not>>3re certain won!ers true or falseJ but>>%s man a mere mortal animal, or an immortal soulJ %s his flesh meant to ser e his spirit, or his spirit his fleshJ %s pleasure, or irtue, the en! an! aim of his e+istenceJ The hermits set themsel es to answer that Fuestion, not by arguing or writing about it, but by the only way in which any Fuestion can

be settle!>>by e+periment" They resol e! to try whether their immortal souls coul! not grow better an! better, while their mortal bo!ies were utterly neglecte!E to make their flesh ser e their spiritE to make irtue their only en! an! aimE an! utterly to relinFuish the ery notion of pleasure" To !o this one thing, an! nothing else, they !e ote! their li esE an! they succee!e!" )rom their time it has been a recei e! opinion, not merely among a few philosophers or a few Pharisees, but among the lowest, the poorest, the most ignorant, who ha e known aught of Christianity, that man is an immortal soulE that the spirit, an! not the flesh, ought to be master an! gui!eE that irtue is the highest goo!E an! that purity is a irtue, impurity a sin" These men were, it has been well sai!, the ery fathers of purity" 3n! if, in that an! in other matters, they pushe! their purpose to an e+treme>>if, by !e oting themsel es utterly to it alone, they suffere!, not merely in wi!eness of min! or in power of ju!ging e i!ence, but e en in brain, till they became some of them at times insane from o er>wrought ner es>>it is not for us to blame the sol!ier for the woun!s which ha e cripple! him, or the physician for the !isease which he has caught himself while trying to heal others" <et us not speak ill of the bri!ge which carries us o er, nor mock at those who !i! the work for us as seeme! to them best, an! perhaps in the only way in which it coul! be !one in those e il !ays" 3s a matter of fact, through these menGs teaching an! e+ample we ha e learnt what morality, purity, an! Christianity we possessE an! if any answer that we ha e learnt them from the -criptures, who but these men preser e! the -criptures to usJ (ho taught us to look on them as sacre! an! inspire!J (ho taught us to apply them to our own !aily li es, an! fin! comfort an! teaching in e ery age, in wor!s written ages ago by another race in a foreign lan!J The -criptures were the book, generally the only book, which they rea! an! me!itate!, not merely from morn till night, but, as far as fainting nature woul! allow, from night to morn again2 an! their metho! of interpreting them Ias far as % can !isco erK !iffere! in nothing from that common to all Christians now, sa e that they interprete! literally certain precepts of our <or! an! of -t" Paul which we consi!er to ha e applie! only to the $temporary necessity$ of a !ecaye!, !ying, an! hopeless age such as that in which they li e!" 3n! therefore, because they knew the -cripture well, an! learne! in it lessons of true irtue an! true philosophy, though unable to sa e ci iliHation in the East, they were able at least to sa e it in the (est" The European hermits, an! the monastic communities which they originate!, were in!ee! a see! of life, not merely to the conFuere! ,oman population of Gaul or -pain or Britain, but to the heathen an! 3rian barbarians who conFuere! them" 3mong those fierce an! arme! sa ages, the unarme! hermits stoo!, strong only by justice, purity, an! faith in Go!, !efying the oppressor, succouring the oppresse!, an! awing an! softening the new aristocracy of the mi!!le age, which was foun!e! on mere brute force an! pri!e of raceE because the monk took his stan! upon mere humanityE because he tol! the wil! conFueror, Goth or -ue e, )rank or Burgun!, -a+on or Aorseman, that all men were eFual in the sight of Go!E because he tol! them Ito Fuote 3thanasiusGs own wor!s concerning 3ntonyK that $ irtue is not beyon! human natureE$ that the highest moral e+cellence was possible to the most low>born an! unlettere! peasant whom they trample! un!er their horsesG hoofs, if he were only renewe! an! sanctifie! by the -pirit of Go!" They accepte! the lowest an! commonest facts of that peasantGs wretche! lifeE they out!i! him in helplessness, loneliness, hunger, !irt, an! sla eryE an! then sai!, $3mong all these % can yet be a man of Go!, wise, irtuous, pure, free, an! noble in the sight of Go!, though not in the sight of Caesars,

counts, an! knights"$ They went on, it is true, to glorify the means abo e the en!E to consecrate chil!lessness, self>torture, !irt, ignorance, as if they were things pleasing to Go! an! holy in themsel es" But in spite of those errors they wrought throughout Europe a work which, as far as we can ju!ge, coul! ha e been !one in no other wayE !one only by men who ga e up all that makes life worth ha ing for the sake of being goo! themsel es an! making others goo!"

THE HE,B%T- ?) E=,?PE

Bost rea!ers will recollect what an important part in the ol! balla!s an! romances is playe! by the hermit" He stan!s in strongest contrast to the knight" He fills up, as it were, by his gentleness an! self>sacrifice, what is wanting in the manhoo! of the knight, the sla e too often of his own fierceness an! self>assertion" The hermit rebukes him when he sins, heals him when he is woun!e!, stays his han! in some ma! mur!erous !uel, such as was too common in !ays when any two arme! horsemen meeting on roa! or lawn ran blin!ly at each other in the mere lust of fighting, as boars or stags might run" -ometimes he interferes to protect the oppresse! serfE sometimes to rescue the hunte! !eer which has taken sanctuary at his feet" -ometimes, again, his influence is that of intellectual superiorityE of worl!ly e+perienceE of the tra elle! man who has seen many lan!s an! many nations" -ometimes, again, that of sympathyE for he has been a knight himself, an! fought an! sinne!, an! !rank of the cup of anity an! e+ation of spirit, like the fierce warrior who kneels at his feet" 3ll who ha e rea! Ian! all ought to ha e rea!K -penserGs )airy Queen, must recollect his charming !escription of the hermit with whom Prince 3rthur lea es -erena an! the sFuire after they ha e been woun!e! by $the blatant beast$ of -lan!erE when>> $Towar! night they came unto a plain By which a little hermitage there lay )ar from all neighbourhoo!, the which annoy it may" $3n! nigh thereto a little chapel stoo!, (hich being all with i y o ersprea! #ecke! all the roof, an! sha!owing the roo!, -eeme! like a gro e fair branche! o erhea!E Therein the hermit which his here le! %n straight obser ance of religious ow, (as wont his hours an! holy things to be!E 3n! therein he likewise was praying now, (hen as these knights arri e!, they wist not where nor how" $They staye! not there, but straightway in !i! pass2 (ho when the hermit present saw in place, )rom his !e otions straight he trouble! wasE (hich breaking off, he towar! them !i! pace (ith stai! steps an! gra e beseeming grace2 )or well it seeme! that whilom he ha! been -ome goo!ly person, an! of gentle race, That coul! his goo! to all, an! well !i! ween

How each to entertain with courtesy beseen" ' ' ' ' ' $He thence them le! into his hermitage, <etting their stee!s to graHe upon the green2 -mall was his house, an! like a little cage, )or his own term, yet inly neat an! clean, #ecke! with green boughs, an! flowers gay beseen Therein he them full fair !i! entertain, Aot with such forge! shews, as fitter been )or courting fools that courtesies woul! feign, But with entire affection an! appearance plain" ' ' ' ' ' How be that careful hermit !i! his best (ith many kin!s of me!icines meet to tame The poisonous humour that !i! most infest Their reakling woun!s, an! e ery !ay them !uly !resse!" $)or he right well in leechGs craft was seenE 3n! through the long e+perience of his !ays, (hich ha! in many fortunes tosse! been, 3n! passe! through many perilous assays2 He knew the !i ers want of mortal ways, 3n! in the min!s of men ha! great insightE (hich with sage counsel, when they went astray, He coul! inform an! them re!uce arightE 3n! all the passions heal which woun! the weaker sprite" $)or whilome he ha! been a !oughty knight, 3s any one that li e! in his !ays, 3n! pro e! oft in many a perilous fight, %n which he grace an! glory won always, 3n! in all battles bore away the bays2 But being now attache! with timely age, 3n! weary of this worl!Gs unFuiet ways, He took himself unto this hermitage, %n which he li e! alone like careless bir! in cage"$ This picture is not poetry alone2 it is history" -uch men actually li e!, an! such work they actually !i!, from the southernmost point of %taly to the northernmost point of -cotlan!, !uring centuries in which there was no one else to !o the work" The regular clergy coul! not ha e !one it" Bishops an! priests were entangle! in the affairs of this worl!, stri ing to be statesmen, stri ing to be lan!owners, stri ing to pass Church lan!s on from father to son, an! to establish themsel es as an here!itary caste of priests" The chaplain or house>priest who was to be foun! in e ery noblemanGs, almost e ery knightGs castle, was apt to become a mere upper ser ant, who sai! mass e ery morning in return for the goo! cheer which he got e ery e ening, an! fetche! an! carrie! at the bi!!ing of his master an! mistress" But the hermit who !welt alone in the forest glen, occupie!, like an ol! Hebrew prophet, a superior an! an in!epen!ent position" He nee!e! nought from any man sa e the scrap of lan! which the lor! was only too gla! to allow him in return for his counsels an! his prayers" 3n! to him, as to a mysterious an! supernatural personage, the lor! went pri ately for a! ice in his Fuarrels with the neighbouring barons, or with his own kin" To him

the la!y took her chil!ren when they were sick, to be heale!, as she fancie!, by his prayers an! blessingsE or poure! into his ears a hun!re! secret sorrows an! an+ieties which she !are not tell to her fierce lor!, who hunte! an! fought the li elong !ay, an! !rank too much liFuor e ery night" This class of men sprang up rapi!ly, by natural causes, an! yet by a #i ine necessity, as soon as the (estern Empire was conFuere! by the German tribesE an! those two young officers whom we saw turning monks at Tre es, in the time of -t" 3ugustine, may, if they li e! to be ol! men, ha e gi en sage counsel again an! again to fierce German knights an! kinglets, who ha! !ispossesse! the rich an! effeminate lan!owners of their estates, an! sol! them, their wi es, an! chil!ren, in gangs by the si!e of their own sla es" ?nly the ,oman who ha! turne! monk woul! probably escape that fearful ruinE an! he woul! remain behin!, while the rest of his race was ensla e! or swept away, as a see! of Christianity an! of ci iliHation, !estine! to grow an! sprea!, an! bring the wil! conFuerors in !ue time into the king!om of Go!" )or the first century or two after the in asion of the barbarians, the names of the hermits an! saints are almost e+clusi ely <atin" Their biographies represent them in almost e ery case as born of noble ,oman parents" 3s time goes on, German names appear, an! at last entirely superse!e the <atin onesE showing that the conFuering race ha! learne! from the conFuere! to become hermits an! monks like them"

-T" -E*E,%A=-, THE 3P?-T<E ?) A?,%C=B

?f all these saintly ci iliHers, -t" -e erinus of *ienna is perhaps the most interesting, an! his story the most historically instructi e" L44CM 3 common time, the mi!!le of the fifth century, the pro ince of Aoricum I3ustria, as we shoul! now call itK was the ery highway of in a!ing barbarians, the centre of the human Baelstrom in which Huns, 3lemanni, ,ugi, an! a !oHen wil! tribes more, wrestle! up an! !own an! roun! the star ing an! beleaguere! towns of what ha! once been a happy an! fertile pro ince, each tribe stri ing to trample the other un!er foot, an! to march southwar! o er their corpses to plun!er what was still left of the alrea!y plun!ere! wealth of %taly an! ,ome" The !ifference of race, in tongue, an! in manners, between the conFuere! an! their conFuerors, was ma!e more painful by !ifference in cree!" The conFuering Germans an! Huns were either 3rians or heathens" The conFuere! race Ithough probably of ery mi+e! bloo!K, who calle! themsel es ,omans, because they spoke <atin an! li e! un!er the ,oman law, were ortho!o+ CatholicsE an! the miseries of religious persecution were too often a!!e! to the usual miseries of in asion" %t was about the year C66>N5" 3ttila, the great King of the Huns, who calle! himself>>an! who was>>$the -courge of Go!,$ was just !ea!" His empire ha! broken up" The whole centre of Europe was in a state of anarchy an! warE an! the hapless ,omans along the #anube were in the last e+tremity of terror, not knowing by what fresh in a!er their crops woul! be swept off up to the ery gates of the

walle! towers which were their only !efence2 when there appeare! among them, coming out of the East, a man of Go!" (ho he was, he woul! not tell" His speech showe! him to be an 3frican ,oman>>a fellow>countryman of -t" 3ugustine>>probably from the neighbourhoo! of Carthage" He ha! certainly at one time gone to some !esert in the East, Healous to learn $the more perfect life"$ -e erinus, he sai!, was his nameE a name which in!icate! high rank, as !i! the manners an! the scholarship of him who bore it" But more than his name he woul! not tell" $%f you take me for a runaway sla e,$ he sai!, smiling, $get rea!y money to re!eem me with when my master !eman!s me back"$ )or he belie e! that they woul! ha e nee! of himE that Go! ha! sent him into that lan! that he might be of use to its wretche! people" 3n! certainly he coul! ha e come into the neighbourhoo! of *ienna at that moment for no other purpose than to !o goo!, unless he came to !eal in sla es" He settle! first at a town calle! by his biographer CasturisE an!, lo!ging with the war!en of the church, li e! Fuietly the hermit life" Beanwhile the German tribes were prowling roun! the townE an! -e erinus, going one !ay into the church, began to warn the priests an! clergy an! all the people that a !estruction was coming on them which they coul! only a ert by prayer an! fasting an! the works of mercy" They laughe! him to scorn, confi!ing in their lofty ,oman walls, which the in a!ers>>wil! horsemen, who ha! no military engines>>were unable either to scale or batter !own" -e erinus left the town at once, prophesying, it was sai!, the ery !ay an! hour of its fall" He went on to the ne+t town, which was then closely garrisone! by a barbarian force, an! repeate! his warning there2 but while the people were listening to him, there came an ol! man to the gate, an! tol! them how Casturis ha! been alrea!y sacke!, as the man of Go! ha! foretol!E an!, going into the church, threw himself at the feet of -t" -e erinus, an! sai! that he ha! been sa e! by his merits from being !estroye! with his fellow>townsmen" Then the !wellers in the town hearkene! to the man of Go!, an! ga e themsel es up to fasting an! almsgi ing an! prayer for three whole !ays" 3n! on the thir! !ay, when the solemnity of the e ening sacrifice was fulfille!, a su!!en earthFuake happene!, an! the barbarians, seiHe! with panic fear, an! probably hating an! !rea!ing>>like all those wil! tribes>>confinement between four stone walls instea! of the free open life of the tent an! the stocka!e, force! the ,omans to open their gates to them, rushe! out into the night, an! in their ma!ness slew each other" %n those !ays a famine fell upon the people of *iennaE an! they, as their sole reme!y, thought goo! to sen! for the man of Go! from the neighbouring town" He went, an! preache! to them, too, repentance an! almsgi ing" The rich, it seems, ha! hi!!en up their stores of corn, an! left the poor to star e" 3t least -t" -e erinus !isco ere! Iby #i ine re elation, it was suppose!K, that a wi!ow name! Procula ha! !one as much" He calle! her out into the mi!st of the people, an! aske! her why she, a noble woman an! free>born, ha! ma!e herself a sla e to a arice, which is i!olatry" %f she woul! not gi e her corn to ChristGs poor, let her throw it into the #anube to fee! the fish, for any gain from it she woul! not ha e" Procula was abashe!, an! ser e! out her hoar!s thereupon willingly to the poorE an! a little while afterwar!s, to the astonishment of all, essels came !own the #anube, la!en with e ery kin! of merchan!ise"

They ha! been froHen up for many !ays near Passau, in the thick ice of the ri er Enns2 but the prayers of Go!Gs ser ant Iso men belie e!K ha! opene! the ice>gates, an! let them !own the stream before the usual time" Then the wil! German horsemen swept aroun! the walls, an! carrie! off human beings an! cattle, as many as they coul! fin!" -e erinus, like some ol! Hebrew prophet, !i! not shrink from a! ising har! blows, where har! blows coul! a ail" Bamertinus, the tribune, or officer in comman!, tol! him that he ha! so few sol!iers, an! those so ill>arme!, that he !are not face the enemy" -e erinus answere!, that they shoul! get weapons from the barbarians themsel esE the <or! woul! fight for them, an! they shoul! hol! their peace2 only if they took any capti es they shoul! bring them safe to him" 3t the secon! milestone from the city they came upon the plun!erers, who fle! at once, lea ing their arms behin!" Thus was the prophecy of the man of Go! fulfille!" The ,omans brought the capti es back to him unharme!" He loose! their bon!s, ga e them foo! an! !rink, an! let them go" But they were to tell their comra!es that, if e er they came near that spot again, celestial engeance woul! fall on them, for the Go! of the Christians fought from hea en in his ser antsG cause" -o the barbarians tremble!, an! went away" 3n! the fear of -t" -e erinus fell on all the Goths, heretic 3rians though they wereE an! on the ,ugii, who hel! the north bank of the #anube in those e il !ays" -t" -e erinus, meanwhile, went out of *ienna, an! built himself a cell at a place calle! $3t the *ineyar!s"$ But some bene olent impulse>>#i ine re elation, his biographer calls it>> prompte! him to return, an! buil! himself a cell on a hill close to *ienna, roun! which other cells soon grew up, tenante! by his !isciples" $There,$ says his biographer, $he longe! to escape the crow!s of men who were wont to come to him, an! cling closer to Go! in continual prayer2 but the more he longe! to !well in solitu!e, the more often he was warne! by re elations not to !eny his presence to the afflicte! people"$ He faste! continuallyE he went barefoot e en in the mi!st of winter, which was so se ere, the story continues, in those !ays aroun! *ienna, that wagons crosse! the #anube on the soli! ice2 an! yet, instea! of being puffe!>up by his own irtues, he set an e+ample of humility to all, an! ba!e them with tears to pray for him, that the -a iourGs gifts to him might not heap con!emnation on his hea!" ? er the wil! ,ugii -t" -e erinus seems to ha e acFuire! unboun!e! influence" Their king, )laccitheus, use! to pour out his sorrows to him, an! tell him how the princes of the Goths woul! surely slay himE for when he ha! aske! lea e of him to pass on into %taly, he woul! not let him go" But -t" -e erinus prophesie! to him that the Goths woul! !o him no harm" ?nly one warning he must take2 $<et it not grie e him to ask peace e en for the least of men"$ The frien!ship which ha! thus begun between the barbarian king an! the culti ate! saint was carrie! on by his son )e a2 but his $!ea!ly an! no+ious wife$ Gisa, who appears to ha e been a fierce 3rian, always, says his biographer, kept him back from clemency" ?ne story of GisaGs mis!ee!s is so characteristic both of the manners of the time an! of the style in which the original biography is written, that % shall take lea e to insert it at length" $The King )eletheus Iwho is also )e aK, the son of the aforementione! )laccitheus, following his fatherGs !e otion, began,

at the commencement of his reign, often to isit the holy man" His !ea!ly an! no+ious wife, name! Gisa, always kept him back from the reme!ies of clemency" )or she, among the other plague>spots of her iniFuity, e en trie! to ha e certain Catholics re>baptiHe!2 but when her husban! !i! not consent, on account of his re erence for -t" -e erinus, she ga e up imme!iately her sacrilegious intention, bur!ening the ,omans, ne ertheless, with har! con!itions, an! comman!ing some of them to be e+ile! to the #anube" )or when one !ay, she, ha ing come to the illage ne+t to *ienna, ha! or!ere! some of them to be sent o er the #anube, an! con!emne! to the most menial offices of sla ery, the man of Go! sent to her, an! begge! that they might be let go" But she, blaHing up in a flame of fury, or!ere! the harshest of answers to be returne!" G% pray thee,G she sai!, Gser ant of Go!, hi!ing there within thy cell, allow us to settle what we choose about our own sla es"G But the man of Go! hearing this, G% trust,G he sai!, Gin my <or! @esus Christ, that she will be force! by necessity to fulfil that which in her wicke! will she has !espise!"G 3n! forthwith a swift rebuke followe!, an! brought low the soul of the arrogant woman" )or she ha! confine! in close custo!y certain barbarian gol!smiths, that they might make regal ornaments" To them the son of the aforesai! king, )re!eric by name, still a little boy, ha! gone in, in chil!ish le ity, on the ery !ay on which the Fueen ha! !espise! the ser ant of Go!" The gol!smiths put a swor! to the chil!Gs breast, saying, that if any one attempte! to enter without gi ing them an oath that they shoul! be protecte!, he shoul! !ieE an! that they woul! slay the kingGs chil! first, an! themsel es afterwar!s, seeing that they ha! no hope of life left, being worn out with long prison" (hen she hear! that, the cruel an! impious Fueen, ren!ing her garments for grief, crie! out, G? ser ant of Go!, -e erinus, are the injuries which % !i! thee thus a enge!J Hast thou obtaine! by the earnest prayer thou hast poure! out this punishment for my contempt, that thou shoul!st a enge it on my own flesh an! bloo!JG Then, running up an! !own with manifol! contrition an! miserable lamentation, she confesse! that for the act of contempt which she ha! committe! against the ser ant of Go! she was struck by the engeance of the present blowE an! forthwith she sent knights to ask for forgi eness, an! sent across the ri er the ,omans his prayers for whom she ha! !espise!" The gol!smiths, ha ing recei e! imme!iately a promise of safety, an! gi ing up the chil!, were in like manner let go" $The most re eren! -e erinus, when he hear! this, ga e boun!less thanks to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of suppliants for this en!, that as faith, hope, an! charity grow, while lesser things are sought, He may conce!e greater things" <astly, this !i! the mercy of the ?mnipotent -a iour work, that while it brought to sla ery a woman free, but cruel o ermuch, she was force! to restore to liberty those who were ensla e!" This ha ing been mar ellously gaine!, the Fueen hastene! with her husban! to the ser ant of Go!, an! showe! him her son, who, she confesse!, ha! been free! from the erge of !eath by his prayers, an! promise! that she woul! ne er go against his comman!s"$ To this perio! of -e erinusGs life belongs the once famous story of his inter iew with ?!oacer, the first barbarian king of %taly, an! brother of the great ?nulph or (olf, who was the foun!er of the family of the Guelphs, Counts of 3ltorf, an! the !irect ancestors of *ictoria, Queen of Englan!" Their father was 3E!econ, secretary at one time of 3ttila, an! chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who, though German, ha! clung faithfully to 3ttilaGs sons, an! came to ruin at the great battle of Aeta!, when the empire of the Huns broke

up once an! for e er" Then ?!oacer an! his brother starte! o er the 3lps to seek their fortunes in %taly, an! take ser ice, after the fashion of young German a! enturers, with the ,omansE an! they came to -t" -e erinusGs cell, an! went in, heathens as they probably were, to ask a blessing of the holy manE an! ?!oacer ha! to stoop an! to stan! stooping, so huge he was" The saint saw that he was no common la!, an! sai!, $Go to %taly, clothe! though thou be in ragge! sheepskins2 thou shalt soon gi e greater gifts to thy frien!s"$ -o ?!oacer went on into %taly, !epose! the last of the Caesars, a paltry boy, ,omulus 3ugustulus by name, an! foun! himself, to his own astonishment, an! that of all the worl!, the first German king of %talyE an!, when he was at the height of his power, he remembere! the prophecy of -e erinus, an! sent to him, offering him any boon he chose to ask" But all that the saint aske! was, that he shoul! forgi e some ,omans whom he ha! banishe!" -t" -e erinus meanwhile foresaw that ?!oacerGs king!om woul! not last, as he seems to ha e foreseen many things, by no miraculous re elation, but simply as a far>sighte! man of the worl!" )or when certain German knights were boasting before him of the power an! glory of ?!oacer, he sai! that it woul! last some thirteen, or at most fourteen yearsE an! the prophecy Iso all men sai! in those !aysK came e+actly true" There is no nee! to follow the !etails of -t" -e erinusGs labours through some fi e>an!>twenty years of perpetual self>sacrifice>>an!, as far as this worl! was concerne!, perpetual !isaster" EugippiusGs chapters are little sa e a catalogue of towns sacke! one after the other, from Passau to *ienna, till the miserable sur i ors of the war seeme! to ha e concentrate! themsel es un!er -t" -e erinusGs guar!ianship in the latter city" (e fin!, too, tales of famine, of locust>swarms, of little ictories o er the barbarians, which !o not arrest wholesale !efeat2 but we fin! through all -t" -e erinus labouring like a true man of Go!, conciliating the in a!ing chiefs, re!eeming capti es, procuring for the cities which were still stan!ing supplies of clothes for the fugiti es, persua!ing the husban!men, seemingly through large !istricts, to gi e e en in time of !earth a tithe of their pro!uce to the poorE>>a tale of noble work which one regrets to see !eface! by silly little pro!igies, more important seemingly in the eyes of the monk Eugippius than the great e ents which were passing roun! him" But this is a fault too common with monk chroniclers" The only historians of the early mi!!le age, they ha e left us a miserably imperfect recor! of it, because they were looking always rather for the preternatural than for the natural" Bany of the saintsG li es, as they ha e come !own to us, are mere catalogues of won!ers which ne er happene!, from among which the antiFuary must pick, out of passing hints an! obscure allusions, the really important facts of the time,>>changes political an! social, geography, physical history, the manners, speech, an! look of nations now e+tinct, an! e en the characters an! passions of the actors in the story" How much can be foun! among such a list of won!ers, by an antiFuary who has not merely learning but intellectual insight, is pro e! by the a!mirable notes which #r" ,ee es has appen!e! to 3!amnanGs life of -t" Columba2 but one feels, while stu!ying his work, that, ha! 3!amnan thought more of facts an! less of pro!igies, he might ha e sa e! #r" ,ee es the greater part of his labour, an! preser e! to us a mass of knowle!ge now lost for e er" 3n! so with EugippiusGs life of -t" -e erinus" The rea!er fin!s how the man who ha! secretly celebrate! a heathen sacrifice was !isco ere! by -t" -e erinus, because, while the tapers of the rest of the congregation were lighte! miraculously from hea en, his taper

alone woul! not lightE an! passes on impatiently, with regret that the biographer omits to mention what the heathen sacrifice was like" He rea!s how the #anube !are! not rise abo e the mark of the cross which -t" -e erinus ha! cut upon the posts of a timber chapelE how a poor man, going out to !ri e the locusts off his little patch of corn instea! of staying in the church all !ay to pray, foun! the ne+t morning that his crop alone ha! been eaten, while all the fiel!s aroun! remaine! untouche!" E en the well>known story, which has a certain awfulness about it, how -t" -e erinus watche! all night by the bier of the !ea! priest -il inus, an! ere the morning !awne! ba!e him in the name of Go! speak to his brethrenE an! how the !ea! man opene! his eyes, an! -e erinus aske! him whether he wishe! to return to life, an! he answere! complainingly, $Keep me no longer hereE nor cheat me of that perpetual rest which % ha! alrea!y foun!,$ an! so, closing his eyes once more, was still for e er2>> e en such a story as this, were it true, woul! be of little alue in comparison with the wis!om, faith, charity, sympathy, in!ustry, utter self>sacrifice, which forme! the true greatness of such a man as -e erinus" 3t last the noble life wore itself out" )or two years -e erinus ha! foretol! that his en! was nearE an! foretol!, too, that the people for whom he ha! spent himself shoul! go forth in safety, as %srael out of Egypt, an! fin! a refuge in some other ,oman pro ince, lea ing behin! them so utter a solitu!e, that the barbarians, in their search for the hi!!en treasures of the ci iliHation which they ha! e+terminate!, shoul! !ig up the ery gra es of the !ea!" ?nly, when the <or! wille! that people to !eli er them, they must carry away his bones with them, as the chil!ren of %srael carrie! the bones of @oseph" Then -e erinus sent for )e a, the ,ugian king, an! Gisa, his cruel wifeE an! when he ha! warne! them how they must ren!er an account to Go! for the people committe! to their charge, he stretche! his han! out to the bosom of the king" $Gisa,$ he aske!, $!ost thou lo e most the soul within that breast, or gol! an! sil erJ$ -he answere! that she lo e! her husban! abo e all" $Cease then,$ he sai!, $to oppress the innocent2 lest their affliction be the ruin of your power"$ -e erinusG presage was strangely fulfille!" )e a ha! han!e! o er the city of *ienna to his brother )re!eric,>>$poor an! impious,$ says Eugippius" -e erinus, who knew him well, sent for him, an! warne! him that he himself was going to the <or!E an! that if, after his !eath, )re!eric !are! touch aught of the substance of the poor an! the capti e, the wrath of Go! woul! fall on him" %n ain the barbarian preten!e! in!ignant innocenceE -e erinus sent him away with fresh warnings" $Then on the nones of @anuary he was smitten slightly with a pain in the si!e" 3n! when that ha! continue! for three !ays, at mi!night he ba!e the brethren come to him"$ He renewe! his talk about the coming emigration, an! entreate! again that his bones might not be left behin!E an! ha ing bi!!en all in turn come near an! kiss him, an! ha ing recei e! the sacrament of communion, he forba!e them to weep for him, an! comman!e! them to sing a psalm" They hesitate!, weeping" He himself ga e out the psalm, $Praise the <or! in his saints, an! let all that hath breath praise the <or!E$ an! so went to rest in the <or!" Ao sooner was he !ea! than )re!eric seiHe! on the garments kept in

the monastery for the use of the poor, an! e en comman!e! his men to carry off the essels of the altar" Then followe! a scene characteristic of the time" The stewar! sent to !o the !ee! shrank from the crime of sacrilege" 3 knight, 3nicianus by name, went in his stea!, an! took the essels of the altar" But his conscience was too strong for him" Trembling an! !elirium fell on him, an! he fle! away to a lonely islan!, an! became a hermit there" )re!eric, impenitent, swept away all in the monastery, lea ing nought but the bare walls, $which he coul! not carry o er the #anube"$ But on him, too, engeance fell" (ithin a month he was slain by his own nephew" Then ?!oacer attacke! the ,ugii, an! carrie! off )e a an! Gisa capti e to ,ome" 3n! then the long>promise! emigration came" ?!oacer, whether from mere policy Ifor he was trying to establish a half>,oman king!om in %talyK, or for lo e of -t" -e erinus himself, sent his brother ?nulf to fetch away into %taly the miserable remnant of the #anubian pro incials, to be !istribute! among the waste! an! unpeople! farms of %taly" 3n! with them went forth the corpse of -t" -e erinus, un!ecaye!, though he ha! been si+ years !ea!, an! gi ing forth e+cee!ing fragrance, though Isays EugippiusK no embalmerGs han! ha! touche! it" %n a coffin, which ha! been long prepare! for it, it was lai! on a wagon, an! went o er the 3lps into %taly, working Iaccor!ing to EugippiusK the usual miracles on the way, till it foun! a resting>place near Aaples, in that ery illa of <ucullus at Bisenum, to which ?!oacer ha! sent the last Emperor of ,ome to !ream his ignoble life away in helpless lu+ury" -o en!s this tragic story" ?f its substantial truth there can be no !oubt" The miracles recor!e! in it are fewer an! less strange than those of the a erage legen!s>>as is usually the case when an eye> witness writes" 3n! that Eugippius was an eye>witness of much which he tells, no one accustome! to ju!ge of the authenticity of !ocuments can !oubt, if he stu!ies the tale as it stan!s in PeH" L4:9M 3s he stu!ies, too, he will perhaps wish with me that some great !ramatist may hereafter take EugippiusGs Fuaint an! rough legen!, an! shape it into immortal erse" )or tragic, in the ery nighest sense, the story is throughout" B" ?Hanam has well sai! of that !eath>be! scene between the saint an! the barbarian king an! Fueen>>$The history of in asions has many a pathetic scene2 but % know none more instructi e than the !ying agony of that ol! ,oman e+piring between two barbarians, an! less touche! with the ruin of the empire than with the peril of their souls"$ But e en more instructi e, an! more tragic also, is the strange coinci!ence that the won!er>working corpse of the star e! an! barefoote! hermit shoul! rest besi!e the last Emperor of ,ome" %t is the symbol of a new era" The kings of this worl! ha e been ju!ge! an! cast out" The empire of the flesh is to perish, an! the empire of the spirit to conFuer thenceforth for e ermore" But if -t" -e erinusGs labours in 3ustria were in ain, there were other hermits, in Gaul an! elsewhere, whose work en!ure! an! prospere!, an! !e elope! to a siHe of which they ha! ne er !reame!" The stories of these goo! men may be rea! at length in the Bollan!ists an! -urius2 in a more accessible an! more graceful form in B" !e BontalembertGs charming pages" % can only sketch, in a few wor!s, the history of a few of the more famous" Pushing continually northwar! an! westwar! from the shores of the Be!iterranean, fresh hermits settle! in the mountains an! forests, collecte! !isciples roun! them, an! foun!e! monasteries, which, !uring the sanguinary an! sa age era of the Bero ingian kings, were the only retreats for learning, piety, an! ci iliHation" -t" Bartin Ithe young sol!ier who may be seen in ol! pictures cutting his cloak in two with a

swor!, to share it with a beggarK left, after twenty campaigns, the army into which he ha! been enrolle! against his will, a conscript of fifteen years ol!, to become a hermit, monk, an! missionary" %n the !esert isle of Gallinaria, near Genoa, he li e! on roots, to train himself for the monastic lifeE an! then went north>west, to Poitiers, to foun! <iguge Isai! to be the most ancient monastery in )ranceK, to become Bishop of Tours, an! to o erthrow throughout his !iocese, often at the risk of his life, the sacre! oaks an! #rui! stones of the Gauls, an! the temples an! i!ols of the ,omans" But he>>like many more>>longe! for the peace of the hermitGs cellE an! near Tours, between the ri er <oire an! lofty cliffs, he hi! himself in a hut of branches, while his eighty !isciples !welt in ca es of the rocks abo e, clothe! only in skins of camels" He !ie! in 3"#" :/0, at the age of eighty>one, lea ing behin! him, not merely that famous monastery of Barmontier IBartini BonasteriumK, which en!ure! till the ,e olution of .0/:, but, what is infinitely more to his glory, his solemn an! in!ignant protest against the first persecution by the Catholic Church>>the torture an! e+ecution of those unhappy Priscillianist fanatics, whom the -panish Bishops Ithe spiritual forefathers of the %nFuisitionK ha! con!emne! in the name of the Go! of lo e" Bartin wept o er the fate of the Priscillianists" Happily he was no prophet, or his hea! woul! ha e become Ilike @eremiahGsK a fount of tears, coul! he ha e foreseen that the isolate! atrocity of those -panish Bishops woul! ha e become the e+ample an! the rule, legaliHe! an! formuliHe! an! comman!e! by Pope after Pope, for e ery country in Christen!om" -ulpicius -e erus, again Iwhose <i es of the #esert )athers % ha e alrea!y Fuote!K, carrie! the e+ample of these fathers into his own estates in 3Fuitaine" -elling his lan!s, he !welt among his now manumitte! sla es, sleeping on straw, an! fee!ing on the coarsest brea! an! herbsE till the hapless neophytes foun! that life was not so easily sustaine! in )rance as in EgyptE an! complaine! to him that it was in ain to try $to make them li e like angels, when they were only Gauls"$ 3nother centre of piety an! ci iliHation was the rocky isle of <erins, off the port of Toulon" Co ere! with the ruins of an ancient ,oman city, an! swarming with serpents, it was coloniHe! again, in 3"#" C.5, by a young man of rank name! Honoratus, who gathere! roun! him a crow! of !isciples, con erte! the !esert isle into a gar!en of flowers an! herbs, an! ma!e the sea>girt sanctuary of <erins one of the most important spots of the then worl!" $The (est,$ says B" !e Bontalembert, $ha! thenceforth nothing to en y the EastE an! soon that retreat, !estine! by its foun!er to renew on the shores of Pro ence the austerities of the Thebai!, became a celebrate! school of Christian theology an! philosophy, a cita!el inaccessible to the wa es of the barbarian in asion, an asylum for the letters an! sciences which were fleeing from %taly, then o errun by the GothsE an!, lastly, a nursery of bishops an! saints, who sprea! through Gaul the knowle!ge of the Gospel an! the glory of <erins" (e shall soon see the rays of his light flash e en into %relan! an! Englan!, by the blesse! han!s of Patrick an! 3ugustine"$ %n the year C46, ,omanus, a young monk from the neighbourhoo! of <yons, ha! gone up into the forests of the @ura, carrying with him the $<i es of the Hermits,$ an! a few see!s an! toolsE an! ha! settle! beneath an enormous pineE shut out from mankin! by precipices, torrents, an! the tangle! trunks of primae al trees,

which ha! fallen an! rotte! on each other age after age" His brother <upicinus joine! himE then crow!s of !isciplesE then his sister, an! a multitu!e of women" The forests were cleare!, the slopes plante!E a manufacture of bo+>woo! articles>>chairs among the rest>>was begunE an! within the ne+t fifty years the 3bbey of Con!at, or -t" Clau!e, as it was afterwar!s calle!, ha! become, not merely an agricultural colony, or e en merely a minster for the perpetual worship of Go!, but the first school of that part of GaulE in which the works of Greek as well as <atin orators were taught, not only to the young monks, but to young laymen likewise" Beanwhile the olcanic peaks of the 3u ergne were hi!ing from their 3rian in a!ers the ruine! gentry of Central )rance" Effeminate an! lu+urious sla e>hol!ers, as they are painte! by -i!onius 3ppolineris, bishop of Clermont, in that same 3u ergne, nothing was left for them when their wealth was gone but to become monks2 an! monks they became" The la a grottoes hel! hermits, who saw isions an! !aemons, as -t" 3ntony ha! seen them in EgyptE while near Tre es, on the Boselle, a young hermit name! (olflaich trie! to imitate -t" -imeon -tylitesG penance on the pillarE till his bishop, foreseeing that in that se ere climate he woul! only kill himself, whee!le! him away from his station, pulle! !own the pillar in his absence, an! ba!e him be a wiser man" 3nother figure, an! a more interesting one, is the famous -t" GoarE a Gaul, seemingly Ifrom the recor!e! names of his parentsK of noble ,oman bloo!, who took his station on the ,hine, un!er the cliffs of that <urlei so famous in legen! an! balla! as haunte! by some fair fien!, whose treacherous song lure! the boatmen into the whirlpool at their foot" To rescue the shipwrecke! boatmen, to lo!ge, fee!, an! if nee! be clothe, the tra ellers along the ,hine bank, was -t" GoarGs especial workE an! (an!elbert, the monk of Prum, in the Eifel, who wrote his life at consi!erable length, tells us how -t" Goar was accuse! to the 3rchbishop of Tre es as a hypocrite an! a glutton, because he ate freely with his guestsE an! how his calumniators took him through the forest to Tre esE an! how he performe! !i ers miracles, both on the roa! an! in the palace of the 3rchbishop, notably the famous one of hanging his cape upon a sunbeam, mistaking it for a peg" 3n! other miracles of his there are, some of them not altogether e!ifying2 but no rea!er is boun! to belie e them, as (an!elbert is e i!ently writing in the interests of the 3bbey of Prum as against those of the Prince>Bishops of Tre esE an! with a monkGs or regularGs usual jealousy of the secular or parochial clergy an! their bishops" 3 more important personage than any of these is the famous -t" Bene!ict, father of the Bene!ictine or!er, an! $father of all monks,$ as he was afterwar!s calle!, who, beginning himself as a hermit, cause! the hermit life to fall, not into !isrepute, but into comparati e !isuseE while the coenobitic life>>that is, life, not in separate cells, but in corporate bo!ies, with common property, an! un!er one common rule>>was accepte! as the general form of the religious life in the (est" 3s the author of this organiHation, an! of the Bene!ictine or!er, to whose learning, as well as to whose piety, the worl! has owe! so much, his life belongs rather to a history of the monastic or!ers than to that of the early hermits" But it must be always remembere! that it was as a hermit that his genius was traine!E that in solitu!e he concei e! his ast plansE in solitu!e he elaborate! the really wise an! noble rules of his, which he afterwar!s carrie! out as far as he coul! !uring his lifetime in the busy worl!E an! which en!ure! for centuries, a soli! piece of practical goo! work" )or the e+istence of monks was an a!mitte!

factE e en an a!mitte! necessity2 -t" Bene!ictGs work was to tell them, if they chose to be monks, what sort of persons they ought to be, an! how they ought to li e, in or!er to fulfil their own i!eal" %n the solitu!e of the hills of -ubiaco, abo e the ruine! palace of Aero, abo e, too, the town of Aurscia, of whose lor!s he was the last remaining scion, he fle! to the mountain grotto, to li e the outwar! life of a wil! beast, an!, as he concei e!, the inwar! life of an angel" How he foun!e! twel e monasteriesE how he fle! with some of his younger !isciples, to with!raw them from the !isgusting persecutions an! temptations of the neighbouring secular clergyE how he settle! himself on the still famous Bonte Cassino, which looks !own upon the Gulf of Gaeta, an! foun!e! there the $3rchi> Bonasterium of Europe,$ whose abbot was in !ue time first premier baron of the king!om of Aaples,>>which counte! among its !epen!encies L4C6M four bishoprics, two principalities, twenty earl!oms, two hun!re! an! fifty castles, four hun!re! an! forty towns or illages, three hun!re! an! thirty>si+ manors, twenty>three seaports, three isles, two hun!re! mills, three hun!re! territories, si+teen hun!re! an! si+ty>two churches, an! at the en! of the si+teenth century an annual re enue of .,655,555 !ucats,>>are matters which har!ly belong to this olume, which !eals merely with the li es of hermits"

THE CE<T%C HE,B%T-

%t is not necessary to enter into the e+e! Fuestion whether any Christianity e er e+iste! in these islan!s of an earlier an! purer type than that which was professe! an! practise! by the saintly !isciples of -t" 3ntony" %t is at least certain that the earliest historic figures which emerge from the haHe of barbarous antiFuity in both the Britains an! in %relan!, are those of hermits, who, in celibacy an! po erty, gather roun! them !isciples, foun! a con ent, con ert an! baptiHe the heathen, an! often, like 3ntony an! Hilarion, escape from the bustle an! toil of the worl! into their belo e! !esert" They work the same miracles, see the same isions, an! li e in the same intimacy with the wil! animals, as the hermits of Egypt, or of ,oman Gaul2 but their history, owing to the wil! imagination an! Ias the legen!s themsel es pro eK the gross barbarism of the tribes among whom they !well, are so in ol e! in fable an! legen!, that it is all but impossible to separate fact from fictionE all but impossible, often, to fi+ the time at which they li e!" Their mo!e of life, it must always be remembere!, is sai! to be copie! from that of the ,oman hermits of Gaul" -t" Patrick, the apostle of %relan!, seems to ha e been of ,oman or ,oman British lineage" %n his famous $Confession$ Iwhich many learne! antiFuaries consi!er as genuineK he calls his father, Calphurnius a !eaconE his gran!father, Potitus a priest>>both of these names being ,oman" He is sai! to ha e isite!, at some perio! of his life, the monastery of -t" Bartin at ToursE to ha e stu!ie! with -t" Germanus at 3u+erreE an! to ha e gone to one of the islan!s of the Tuscan sea, probably <erins itselfE an!, whether or not we belie e the story that he was consecrate! bishop by Pope Celestine at ,ome, we can har!ly !oubt that he was a member of that great spiritual succession of ascetics who counte! -t" 3ntony as their father"

-uch another must that Palla!ius ha e been, who was sent, says Prosper of 3Fuitaine, by Pope Celestine to con ert the %rish -cots, an! who Iaccor!ing to another storyK was cast on shore on the north> east coast of -cotlan!, foun!e! the church of )or!un, in Kincar!ineshire, an! became a great saint among the Pictish folk" 3nother primae al figure, almost as sha!owy as -t" Patrick, is -t" Ainian, a monk of Aorth (ales, who Iaccor!ing to Be!eK first attempte! the con ersion of the -outhern Picts, an! built himself, at (hithorn in Galloway, the Can!i!a Casa, or (hite House, a little church of stone,>>a won!er in those !ays of $creel houses$ an! woo!en stocka!es" He too, accor!ing to Be!e, who li e! some 465 years after his time, went to ,omeE an! he is sai! to ha e isite! an! correspon!e! with -t" Bartin of Tours" #ubricius, again, whom legen! makes the contemporary both of -t" Patrick an! of King 3rthur, appears in (ales, as bishop an! abbot of <lan!aff" He too is or!aine! by a ,oman bishop, -t" Germanus of 3u+erreE an! he too en!s his career, accor!ing to tra!ition, as a hermit, while his !isciples sprea! away into 3rmorica IBrittanyK an! %relan!" (e nee! not, therefore, be surprise! to fin! %relan!, (ales, Cornwall, -cotlan!, an! Brittany, !uring the ne+t three centuries, swarming with saints, who kept up, whether in company or alone, the ol! hermit>life of the Thebai!E or to fin! them wan!ering, whether on missionary work, or in search of solitu!e, or escaping, like -t" Ca!oc the (ise, from the -a+on in a!ers" Their freFuent journeys to ,ome, an! e en to @erusalem, may perhaps be set !own as a fable, in ente! in after years by monks who were an+ious to pro e their complete !epen!ence on the Holy -ee, an! their perfect communion with the ol!er an! more ci iliHe! Christianity of the ,oman Empire" %t is probable enough, also, that ,omans from Gaul, as well as from Britain, often men of rank an! e!ucation, who ha! fle! before the in a!ing Goths an! )ranks, an! ha! !e ote! themsel es Ias we ha e seen that they often !i!K to the monastic life, shoul! ha e escape! into those parts of these islan!s which ha! not alrea!y fallen into the han!s of the -a+on in a!ers" %relan!, as the most remote situation, woul! be especially in iting to the fugiti esE an! we can thus un!erstan! the story which is foun! in the 3cts of -t" -enanus, how fifty monks, $,omans born,$ saile! to %relan! to learn the -criptures, an! to lea! a stricter lifeE an! were !istribute! between -t" -enan, -t" )innian, -t" Bren!an, -t" Barry, an! -t" Kieran" By such immigrations as this, it may be, %relan! became>>as she certainly was for a while>>the refuge of what ecclesiastical ci iliHation, learning, an! art the barbarian in a!ers ha! spare!E a sanctuary from whence, in after centuries, e angelists an! teachers went forth once more, not only to -cotlan! an! Englan!, but to )rance an! Germany" *ery fantastic, an! often ery beautiful, are the stories of these menE an! sometimes tragical enough, like that of the (elsh -t" %ltut, cousin of the mythic 3rthur, an! foun!er of the great monastery of Bangor, on the banks of the #ee, which was sai!>>though we are not boun! to belie e the fact>>to ha e hel! more than two thousan! monks at the time of the -a+on in asion" The wil! warrior was con erte!, says this legen!, by seeing the earth open an! swallow up his comra!es, who ha! e+torte! brea!, beer, an! a fat pig from -t" Ca!oc of <lancar an, a princely hermit an! abbot, who ha! persua!e! his father an! mother to embrace the hermit life as the regular, if not the only, way of sa ing their souls" %n a paro+ysm of terror he fle! from his fair young wife into the forestE

woul! not allow her to share with him e en his hut of branchesE an! !e ote! himself to the labour of making an immense !yke of mu! an! stones to keep out the inun!ations of a neighbouring ri er" His poor wife went in search of him once more, an! foun! him in the bottom of a !yke, no longer a gay knight, but poorly !resse!, an! co ere! with mu!" -he went away, an! ne er saw him moreE $fearing to !isplease Go! an! one so belo e! by Go!"$ %ltut !welt afterwar!s for four years in a ca e, sleeping on the bare rock, an! seems at last to ha e crosse! o er to Brittany, an! !ie! at #ol" (e must not forget>>though he is not strictly a hermit>>-t" #a i!, the popular saint of the (elsh, son of a nephew of the mythic 3rthur, an! e!ucate! by one Paulinus, a !isciple, it is sai!, of -t" Germanus of 3u+erre" He is at once monk an! bishop2 he gathers roun! him young monks in the wil!erness, makes them till the groun!, !rawing the plough by their own strength, for he allows them not to own e en an o+" He !oes battle against $satraps$ an! $magicians$>> probably heathen chieftains an! #rui!sE he goes to the Holy <an!, an! is ma!e archbishop by the Patriarch of @erusalem2 he intro!uces, it woul! seem, into this islan! the right of sanctuary for criminals in any fiel! consecrate! to himself" He restores the church of Glastonbury o er the tomb of his cousin, King 3rthur, an! !ies at .55 years of age, $the hea! of the whole British nation, an! honour of his fatherlan!"$ He is burie! in one of his own monasteries at -t" #a i!Gs, near the hea!lan! whence -t" Patrick ha! seen, in a ision, all %relan! stretche! out before him, waiting to be con erte! to ChristE an! the Celtic people go on pilgrimage to his tomb, e en from Brittany an! %relan!2 an!, canoniHe! in ..45, he becomes the patron saint of (ales" )rom that same point, in what year is not sai!, an ol! monk of -t" #a i!Gs monastery, name! Bo!onnoc, set sail for %relan!, after a long life of labour an! irtue" 3 swarm of bees settle! upon the bow of his boat, an! woul! not be !ri en away" He took them, whether he woul! or not, with him into %relan!, an! intro!uce! there, says the legen!, the culture of bees an! the use of honey" %relan! was then the $%sle of -aints"$ Three or!ers of them were counte! by later historians2 the bishops Iwho seem not to ha e ha! necessarily territorial !iocesesK, with -t" Patrick at their hea!, shining like the sunE the secon!, of priests, un!er -t" Columba, shining like the moonE an! the thir!, of bishops, priests, an! hermits, un!er Colman an! 3i!an, shining like the stars" Their legen!s, full of %rish poetry an! ten!erness, an! not without touches here an! there of genuine %rish humour, lie burie! now, to all sa e antiFuaries, in the folios of the Bollan!ists an! Colgan2 but the memory of their irtue an! beneficence, as well as of their miracles, sha!owy an! !istorte! by the lapse of centuries, is roote! in the heart an! brain of the %rish peasantryE an! who shall say altogether for e ilJ )or with the tra!ition of their miracles has been entwine! the tra!ition of their irtues, as an en!uring heirloom for the whole %rish race, through the sa! centuries which part the era of saints from the present time" (e see the %rish women kneeling besi!e some well, whose waters were hallowe!, ages since, by the fancie! miracle of some mythic saint, an! hanging gau!y rags Ijust as !o the half sa age Bu!!hists of the HimalayasK upon the bushes roun!" (e see them upon holy !ays crawling on bare an! blee!ing knees aroun! -t" PatrickGs cell, on the top of Croagh Patrick, the gran!est mountain, perhaps, with the gran!est outlook, in these British %sles, where stan!s still, % belie e, an ancient woo!en image, sai! to ha e belonge! to -t" Patrick himselfE an!

where, too, hung till late years Iit is now preser e! in #ublinK an ancient bellE such a strange little oblong bell as the %rish saints carrie! with them to keep off !aemonsE one of those magic bells which appear, so far as % am aware, in no country sa e %relan! an! -cotlan! till we come to Tartary an! the Bu!!hists2 such a bell as came !own from hea en to -t" -enan2 such a bell as -t" )ursey sent flying through the air to greet -t" Cuan!y at his !e otions when he coul! not come himself2 such a bell as another saint, wan!ering in the woo!s, rang till a stag came out of the co ert, an! carrie! it for him on his horns" ?n that peak, so legen!s tell, -t" Patrick stoo! once, in the spirit an! power of Elias>>after whom the mountain was long name!E fasting, like Elias, forty !ays an! forty nights, an! wrestling with the !aemons of the storm, an! the snakes of the fen, an! the Peishta>Bore, the gigantic monster of the lakes, till he smote the e il things with the gol!en ro! of @esus, an! they rolle! o er the cliff in hi!eous rout, an! perishe! in the 3tlantic far below" (e know that these tales are but the !reams of chil!ren2 but shall we sneer at the !e otion of those poor %rishJ Aot if we remember Iwhat is an un!oubte! factK that the memory of these same saints has kept up in their min!s an i!eal of nobleness an! purity, !e otion an! beneficence, which, !own>tro!!en sla es as they ha e been, they woul! otherwise ha e ine itably lostE that it has helpe! to preser e them from mere brutality, an! mere ferocityE an! that the thought that these men were of their own race an! their own kin has gi en them a pri!e in their own race, a sense of national unity an! of national !ignity, which has en!ure!>>an! surely for their benefit, for re erence for ancestors an! the self>respect which springs from it is a benefit to e ery human being>>through all the miseries, !eser e! or un!eser e!, which ha e fallen upon the %rish since Pope 3!rian %*" Ithe true author of all the woes of %relan!K, in the year ..66, commissione! Henry %%" to conFuer %relan! an! !estroy its primae al Church, on consi!eration of recei ing his share of the booty in the shape of PeterGs Pence" 3mong these %rish saints, two names stan! out as especially interesting2 that of -t" Bren!an, an! that of -t" Columba>>the former as the representati e of the sailor monks of the early perio!, the other as the great missionary who, lea ing his monastery at #urrow, in %relan!, for the famous islan! of Hy, %ona, or %columbkill, off the western point of Bull, became the apostle of -cotlan! an! the north of Englan!" % shall first speak of -t" Bren!an, an! at some length" His name has become lately familiar to many, through the me!ium of two ery beautiful poems, one by Br" Batthew 3rnol!, an! the other by Br" -ebastian E ansE an! it may interest those who ha e rea! their ersions of the story to see the ol!est form in which the story now e+ists" The Celts, it must be remembere!, are not, in general, a sea>going folk" They ha e always neglecte! the rich fisheries of their coastsE an! in %relan! e ery seaport owes its e+istence, not to the nati es, but to Aorse colonists" E en now, the %rishman or (estern Highlan!er, who emigrates to escape the $-a+ons,$ sails in a ship built an! manne! by those ery $-a+ons,$ to lan!s which the -a+ons ha e !isco ere! an! ci iliHe!" But in the se enth an! eighth centuries, an! perhaps earlier, many Celts were oyagers an! emigrants, not to !isco er new worl!s, but to flee from the ol! one" There were !eserts in the sea, as well as on lan!E in them they hope! to escape from men, an!, yet more, from women" They went against their carnal will" They ha! no liking for the salt water" They were horribly frightene!, an! often wept bitterly,

as they themsel es confess" 3n! they ha! reason for fearE for their essels were, for the most part, only $curachs$ IcoraclesK of wattle! twigs, co ere! with tanne! hi!es" They nee!e! continual e+hortation an! comfort from the holy man who was their captainE an! nee!e! often miracles likewise for their preser ation" Tempests ha! to be change! into calm, an! contrary win!s into fair ones, by the prayers of a saintE an! the spirit of prophecy was nee!e!, to pre!ict that a whale woul! be met between %ona an! Tiree, who appeare! accor!ingly, to the e+treme terror of -t" BerachGs crew, swimming with open jaws, an! Iintent on eating, not monks, but herringsK nearly upsetting them by the swell which he raise!" 3n! when -t" Baithenius met the same whale on the same !ay, it was necessary for him to rise, an! bless, with outsprea! han!s, the sea an! the whale, in or!er to make him sink again, after ha ing risen to breathe" But they saile! forth, ne ertheless, not knowing whither they wentE true to their great principle, that the spirit must conFuer the flesh2 an! so showe! themsel es actually bra er men than the Aorse pirates, who saile! afterwar!s o er the same seas without fear, an! without the nee! of miracles, an! who foun! e erywhere on !esert islan!s, on sea>washe! stacks an! skerries, roun! ?rkney, -hetlan!, an! the )aroes, e en to %celan!, the cells of these $Papas$ or PopesE an! name! them after the ol! hermits, whose memory still lingers in the names of Papa -trona an! Papa (estra, in the ?rkneys, an! in that of Papey, off the coast of %celan!, where the first Aorse settlers foun! %rish books, bells, an! crosiers, the relics of ol! hermits who ha! long since faste! an! praye! their last, an! migrate! to the <or!" 3!anman, in his life of -t" Columba, tells of more than one such oyage" He tells how one Baitanus, with the saintGs blessing, saile! forth to fin! $a !esert$ in the seaE an! how when he was gone, the saint prophesie! that he shoul! be burie!, not in a !esert isle, but where a woman shoul! !ri e sheep o er his gra e, the which came true in the oak>woo! of Calgaich, now <on!on!erry, whither he came back again" He tells, again, of one Cormac, $a knight of Christ,$ who three times saile! forth in a coracle to fin! some !esert isle, an! three times faile! of his purposeE an! how, in his last oyage, he was !ri en northwar! by the win! fourteen !aysG sail, till he came where the summer sea was full of foul little stinging creatures, of the siHe of frogs, which beat against the si!es of the frail boat, till all e+pecte! them to be sto e in" They clung, moreo er, to the oar bla!esE L46NM an! Cormac was in some !anger of ne er seeing lan! again, ha! not -t" Columba, at home in %ona far away, seen him in a ision, him an! his fellows, praying an! $watering their cheeks with floo!s of tears,$ in the mi!st of $perturbations monstrous, horrific, ne er seen before, an! almost unspeakable"$ Calling together his monks, he ba!e them pray for a north win!, which came accor!ingly, an! blew Cormac safe back to %ona, to tempt the wa es no more" $<et the rea!er therefore perpen! how great an! what manner of man this same blesse! personage was, who, ha ing so great prophetic knowle!ge, coul! comman!, by in oking the name of Christ, the win!s an! ocean"$ E en as late as the year 9/., says the 3nglo>-a+on Chronicle2 $Three -cots came to King 3lfre!, in a boat without any oars, from %relan!, whence they ha! stolen away, because for the lo e of Go! they !esire! to be on pilgrimage, they recke! not where" The boat in which they came was ma!e of two hi!es an! a halfE an! they took with them pro isions for se en !aysE an! about the se enth !ay they came on shore in Cornwall, an! soon after went to King 3lfre!" Thus they were name!, #ubslane, an! Bacbeth, an! Baelinmun"$

?ut of such wil! feats as theseE out of !im reports of fairy islan!s in the westE of the Canaries an! 3HoresE of that *inlan!, with its wil! corn an! wil! grapes which <eif, the son of Eirek ,au!a, ha! foun! beyon! the ocean a thousan! years an! one after the birth of ChristE of icebergs an! floes sailing in the far northern sea, upon the e!ge of the si+>monthsG nightE out of E!!a stories of the Bi!gar! snake, which is coile! roun! the worl!E out of reports, it may be, of %n!ian fakirs an! Bu!!hist shamansE out of scraps of Greek an! 3rab myth, from the ?!yssey or the 3rabian Aights, brought home by $@orsala )arar,$ ikings who ha! been for pilgrimage an! plun!er up the -traits of Gibraltar into the far EastE>>out of all these materials were ma!e up, as years rolle! on, the famous legen! of -t" Bren!an an! his se en yearsG oyage in search of the $lan! promise! to the saints"$ This tale was so popular in the mi!!le age, that it appears, in !ifferent shapes, in almost e ery early European language" L460M %t was not only the !elight of monks, but it stirre! up to wil! oyages many a secular man in search of -t" Bren!anGs %sle, $which is not foun! when it is sought,$ but was sai! to be isible at times, from Palma in the Canaries" The myth must ha e been well known to Columbus, an! may ha e helpe! to sen! him forth in search of $Cathay"$ Thither Iso the -panish peasants belie e!K #on ,o!eric ha! retire! from the Boorish in a!ers" There Iso the Portuguese fancie!K King -ebastian was hi!!en from men, after his reporte! !eath in the battle of 3lcaHar" The (est %n!ies, when they were first seen, were surely -t" Bren!anGs %sle2 an! the Bississippi may ha e been, in the eyes of such ol! a! enturers as #on )er!inan!o !a -oto, when he sought for the )ountain of Perpetual &outh, the ery ri er which -t" Bren!an foun! parting in two the <an! of Promise" )rom the year .64N Isays B" @ubinalK, till as late as .04., armaments went forth from time to time into the 3tlantic, an! went forth in ain" )or the whole tale, from whate er !im reports of fact they may ha e sprung, is truly Ias B" @ubinal calls itK a monkish ?!yssey, an! nothing more" %t is a !ream of the hermitGs cell" Ao woman, no city, nor nation, are e er seen !uring the se en yearsG oyage" %!eal monasteries an! i!eal hermits people the $!eserts of the ocean"$ 3ll beings therein Isa e !aemons an! CyclopsK are Christians, e en to the ery bir!s, an! keep the festi als of the Church as eternal laws of nature" The oyage succee!s, not by seamanship, or geographic knowle!ge, nor e en by chance2 but by the miraculous prescience of the saint, or of those whom he meetsE an! the wan!erings of =lysses, or of -inba!, are rational an! human in comparison with those of -t" Bren!an" &et there are in them, as was to be e+pecte!, elements in which the Greek or the 3rab legen!s are altogether !eficientE perfect innocence, patience, an! justiceE utter faith in a Go! who prospers the innocent an! punishes the guiltyE ennobling obe!ience to the saint, who stan!s out a truly heroic figure abo e his trembling crewE an! e en more aluable still, the belief in, the cra ing for, an i!eal, e en though that i!eal be that of a mere earthly Para!iseE the $!i ine !iscontent,$ as it has been well calle!, which is the root of all true progressE which lea es Ithank Go!K no man at peace sa e him who has sai!, $<et us eat an! !rink, for to>morrow we !ie"$ 3n! therefore % ha e written at some length the story of -t" Bren!anE because, though it be but a monk>i!eal, it is an i!eal

still2 an! therefore profitable for all who are not content with this worl!, an! its paltry ways" -aint Bren!an, we rea!, the son of )innloga, an! great gran!son of 3lta, son of ?gaman, of the race of Ciar son of )ergus, was born at Tralee, an! foun!e!, in 66/, the 3bbey of Clonfert, L4N5aM an! was a man famous for his great abstinence an! irtues, an! the father of nearly :,555 monks" L4N5bM 3n! while he was $in his warfare,$ there came to him one e ening a holy hermit name! $Barintus,$ of the royal race of AeillE an! when he was Fuestione!, he !i! nought but cast himself on the groun!, an! weep an! pray" 3n! when -t" Bren!an aske! him to make better cheer for him an! his monks, he tol! him a strange tale" How a nephew of his ha! fle! away to be a solitary, an! foun! a !elicious islan!, an! establishe! a monastery thereinE an! how he himself ha! gone to see his nephew, an! saile! with him to the eastwar! to an islan!, which was calle! $the lan! of promise of the saints,$ wi!e an! grassy, an! bearing all manner of fruitsE wherein was no night, for the <or! @esus Christ was the light thereofE an! how they abo!e there for a long while without eating an! !rinkingE an! when they returne! to his nephewGs monastery, the brethren knew well where they ha! been, for the fragrance of Para!ise lingere! on their garments for nearly forty !ays" -o Barintus tol! his story, an! went back to his cell" But -t" Bren!an calle! together his most lo ing fellow>warriors, as he calle! them, an! tol! them how he ha! set his heart on seeking that Promise! <an!" 3n! he went up to the top of the hill in Kerry, which is still calle! Bount Bren!an, with fourteen chosen monksE an! there, at the utmost corner of the worl!, he built him a coracle of wattle, an! co ere! it with hi!es tanne! in oak>bark an! softene! with butter, an! set up in it a mast an! a sail, an! took forty !aysG pro ision, an! comman!e! his monks to enter the boat, in the name of the Holy Trinity" 3n! as he stoo! alone, praying on the shore, three more monks from his monastery came up, an! fell at his feet, an! begge! to go too, or they woul! !ie in that place of hunger an! thirstE for they were !etermine! to wan!er with him all the !ays of their life" -o he ga e them lea e" But two of them, he prophesie!, woul! come to harm an! to ju!gment" -o they saile! away towar! the summer solstice, with a fair win!, an! ha! no nee! to row" But after twel e !ays the win! fell to a calm, an! they ha! only light airs at night, till forty !ays were past, an! all their ictual spent" Then they saw towar! the north a lofty islan!, walle! roun! with cliffs, an! went about it three !ays ere they coul! fin! a harbour" 3n! when they lan!e!, a !og came fawning on them, an! they followe! it up to a great hall with be!s an! seats, an! water to wash their feet" But -t" Bren!an sai!, $Beware, lest -atan bring you into temptation" )or % see him busy with one of those three who followe! us"$ Aow the hall was hung all roun! with essels of !i ers metals, an! bits an! horns o erlai! with sil er" Then -t" Bren!an tol! his ser ant to bring the meal which Go! ha! prepare!E an! at once a table was lai! with napkins, an! loa es won!rous white, an! fishes" Then they blesse! Go!, an! ate, an! took likewise !rink as much as they woul!, an! lay !own to sleep" Then -t" Bren!an saw the !e ilGs workE namely, a little black boy hol!ing a sil er bit, an! calling the brother aforementione!" -o they reste! three !ays an! three nights" But when they went to the ship, -t" Bren!an charge! them with theft, an! tol! what was stolen, an! who ha! stolen it" Then the brother cast out of his bosom a sil er bit, an! praye! for mercy" 3n! when he was forgi en an! raise! up from the groun!, behol!, a little black boy flew out of his bosom, howling alou!, an! crying, $(hy, ? man of Go!, !ost thou

!ri e me from my habitation, where % ha e !welt for se en yearsJ$ Then the brother recei e! the Holy Eucharist, an! !ie! straightway, an! was burie! in that isle, an! the brethren saw the angels carry his soul aloft, for -t" Bren!an ha! tol! him that so it shoul! be2 but that the brother who came with him shoul! ha e his sepulchre in hell" 3n! as they went on boar!, a youth met them with a basket of loa es an! a bottle of water, an! tol! them that it woul! not fail till Pentecost" Then they saile! again many !ays, till they came to an isle full of great streams an! fountains swarming with fishE an! sheep there all white, as big as o+en, so many that they hi! the face of the earth" 3n! they staye! there till Easter E e, an! took one of the sheep Iwhich followe! them as if it ha! been tameK to eat for the Paschal feast" Then came a man with loa es bake! in the ashes, an! other ictual, an! fell !own before -t" Bren!an an! crie!, $How ha e % merite! this, ? pearl of Go!, that thou shoul!est be fe! at this holy ti!e from the labours of my han!J$ 3n! they learne! from that man that the sheep grew there so big because they were ne er milke!, nor pinche! with winter, but they fe! in those pastures all the year roun!" Boreo er, he tol! them that they must keep Easter in an isle har! by, opposite a shore to the west, which some calle! the Para!ise of Bir!s" -o to the nearest islan! they saile!" %t ha! no harbour, nor san!y shore, an! there was no turf on it, an! ery little woo!" Aow the -aint knew what manner of isle it was, but he woul! not tell the brethren, lest they shoul! be terrifie!" -o he ba!e them make the boat fast stem an! stern, an! when morning came he ba!e those who were priests to celebrate each a mass, an! then to take the lambGs fleece on shore an! cook it in the cal!ron with salt, while -t" Bren!an remaine! in the boat" But when the fire blaHe! up, an! the pot began to boil, that islan! began to mo e like water" Then the brethren ran to the boat imploring -t" Bren!anGs ai!E an! he helpe! them each in by the han!, an! cast off" 3fter which the islan! sank in the ocean" 3n! when they coul! see their fire burning more than two miles off, -t" Bren!an tol! them how that Go! ha! re eale! to him that night the mysteryE that this was no isle, but the biggest of all fishes which swam in the ocean, always it tries to make its hea! an! its tail meet, but cannot, by reason of its lengthE an! its name is @asconius" Then, across a narrow strait, they saw another isle, ery grassy an! woo!e!, an! full of flowers" 3n! they foun! a little stream, an! towe! the boat up it Ifor the stream was of the same wi!th as the boatK, with -t" Bren!an sitting on boar!, till they came to the fountain thereof" Then sai! the holy father, $-ee, brethren, the <or! has gi en us a place wherein to celebrate his holy ,esurrection" 3n! if we ha! nought else, this fountain, % think, woul! ser e for foo! as well as !rink"$ )or the fountain was too a!mirable" ? er it was a huge tree of won!erful brea!th, but no great height, co ere! with snow>white bir!s, so that its lea es an! boughs coul! scarce be seen" 3n! when the man of Go! saw that, he was so !esirous to know the cause of that assemblage of bir!s, that he besought Go! upon his knees, with tears, saying, $Go!, who knowest the unknown, an!

re ealest the hi!!en, thou knowest the an+iety of my heart" " " " #eign of thy great mercy to re eal to me thy secret" " " " But not for the merit of my own !ignity, but regar!ing thy clemency, !o % presume to ask"$ Then one of those bir!s flew from off the tree, an! his wings soun!e! like bells o er the boat" 3n! he sat on the prow, an! sprea! his wings joyfully, an! looke! Fuietly on -t" Bren!an" 3n! when the man of Go! Fuestione! that bir!, it tol! how they were of the spirits which fell in the great ruin of the ol! enemyE not by sin or by consent, but pre!estine! by the piety of Go! to fall with those with whom they were create!" But they suffere! no punishmentE only they coul! not, in part, behol! the presence of Go!" They wan!ere! about this worl!, like other spirits of the air, an! firmament, an! earth" But on holy !ays they took those shapes of bir!s, an! praise! their Creator in that place" Then the bir! tol! him, how he an! his monks ha! wan!ere! one year alrea!y, an! shoul! wan!er for si+ moreE an! e ery year shoul! celebrate their Easter in that place, an! after fin! the <an! of PromiseE an! so flew back to its tree" 3n! when the e enti!e was come, the bir!s began all with one oice to sing, an! clap their wings, crying, $Thou, ? Go!, art praise! in Pion, an! unto Thee shall the ow be performe! in @erusalem"$ 3n! always they repeate! that erse for an hour, an! their melo!y an! the clapping of their wings was like music which !rew tears by its sweetness" 3n! when the man of Go! wakene! his monks at the thir! watch of the night with the erse, $Thou shalt open my lips, ? <or!,$ all the bir!s answere!, $Praise the <or!, all his angelsE praise him, all his irtues"$ 3n! when the !awn shone, they sang again, $The splen!our of the <or! Go! is o er usE$ an! at the thir! hour, $-ing psalms to our Go!, singE sing to our King, sing with wis!om"$ 3n! at the si+th, $The <or! hath lifte! up the light of his countenance upon us, an! ha! mercy on us"$ 3n! at the ninth, $Behol! how goo! an! pleasant it is for brethren to !well in unity"$ -o !ay an! night those bir!s ga e praise to Go!" -t" Bren!an, therefore, seeing these things, ga e thanks to Go! for all his mar els, an! the brethren were refreshe! with that spiritual foo! till the octa e of Easter" 3fter which, -t" Bren!an a! ise! to take of the water of the fountainE for till then they ha! only use! it to wash their feet an! han!s" But there came to him the same man who ha! been with them three !ays before Easter, an! with his boat full of meat an! !rink, an! sai!, $By brothers, here you ha e enough to last till Pentecost2 but !o not !rink of that fountain" )or its nature is, that whosoe er !rinks will sleep for four>an!>twenty hours"$ -o they staye! till Pentecost, an! rejoice! in the song of the bir!s" 3n! after mass at Pentecost, the man brought them foo! again, an! ba!e them take of the water of the fountain an! !epart" Then the bir!s came again, an! sat upon the prow, an! tol! them how they must, e ery year, celebrate Easter in the %sle of Bir!s, an! Easter E e upon the back of the fish @asconiusE an! how, after eight months, they shoul! come to the isle calle! 3ilbey, an! keep their Christmas there" 3fter which they were on the ocean for eight months, out of sight of lan!, an! only eating after e ery two or three !ays, till they came

to an islan!, along which they saile! for forty !ays, an! foun! no harbour" Then they wept an! praye!, for they were almost worn out with wearinessE an! after they ha! faste! an! praye! for three !ays, they saw a narrow harbour, an! two fountains, one foul, one clear" But when the brethren hurrie! to !raw water, -t" Bren!an Ias he ha! !one once beforeK forba!e them, saying that they must take nought without lea e from the el!ers who were in that isle" 3n! of the won!ers which they saw in that isle it were too long to tell2 how there met them an e+cee!ing ol! man, with snow>white hair, who fell at -t" Bren!anGs feet three times, an! le! him in silence up to a monastery of four>an!>twenty silent monks, who washe! their feet, an! fe! them with brea! an! water, an! roots of won!erful sweetnessE an! then at last, opening his mouth, tol! them how that brea! was sent them perpetually, they knew not from whenceE an! how they ha! been there eighty years, since the times of -t" Patrick, an! how their father 3ilbey an! Christ ha! nourishe! themE an! how they grew no ol!er, nor e er fell sick, nor were o ercome by col! or heatE an! how brother ne er spoke to brother, but all things were !one by signsE an! how he le! them to a sFuare chapel, with three can!les before the mi!>altar, an! two before each of the si!e altarsE an! how they, an! the chalices an! patens, an! all the other essels, were of crystalE an! how the can!les were lighte! always by a fiery arrow, which came in through the win!ow, an! returne!E an! how -t" Bren!an kept his Christmas there, an! then saile! away till <ent, an! came to a fruitful islan! where he foun! fishE an! how when certain brethren !rank too much of the charme! water they slept, some three !ays, an! some oneE an! how they saile! north, an! then east, till they came back to the %sle of -heep at Easter, an! foun! on the shore their cal!ron, which they ha! lost on @asconiusGs backE an! how, sailing away, they were chase! by a mighty fish which spoute! foam, but was slain by another fish which spoute! fireE an! how they took enough of its flesh to last them three monthsE an! how they came to an islan! flat as the sea, without trees, or aught that wa e! in the win!E an! how on that islan! were three troops of monks Ias the holy man ha! foretol!K, stan!ing a stoneGs throw from each other2 the first of boys, robe! in snow>whiteE the secon! of young men, !resse! in hyacinthineE the thir! of ol! men, in purple !almatics, singing alternately their psalms, all !ay an! night2 an! how when they stoppe! singing, a clou! of won!rous brightness o ersha!owe! the isleE an! how two of the young men, ere they saile! away, brought baskets of grapes, an! aske! that one of the monks Ias ha! been prophesie!K shoul! remain with them, in the %sle of -trong BenE an! how -t" Bren!an let him go, saying, $%n a goo! hour !i! thy mother concei e thee, because thou hast merite! to !well with such a congregationE$ an! how those grapes were so big, that a poun! of juice ran out of each of them, an! an ounce thereof fe! each brother for a whole !ay, an! was as sweet as honeyE an! how a magnificent bir! !roppe! into the ship the bough of an unknown tree, with a bunch of grapes thereonE an! how they came to a lan! where the trees were all bowe! !own with ines, an! their o!our as the o!our of a house full of pomegranatesE an! how they fe! forty !ays on those grapes, an! strange herbs an! rootsE an! how they saw flying against them the bir! which is calle! gryphonE an! how that bir! who ha! brought the bough tore out the gryphonGs eyes, an! slew himE an! how they looke! !own into the clear sea, an! saw all the fishes sailing roun! an! roun!, hea! to tail, innumerable as flocks in the pastures, an! were terrifie!, an! woul! ha e ha! the man of Go! celebrate mass in silence, lest the fish shoul! hear, an! attack themE an! how the man of Go! laughe! at their follyE an! how they came to a column of clear crystal in the sea, with a canopy roun! it

of the colour of sil er, har!er than marble, an! saile! in through an opening, an! foun! it all light withinE L4N/M an! how they foun! in that hall a chalice of the same stuff as the canopy, an! a paten of that of the column, an! took them, that they might make many belie eE an! how they saile! out again, an! past a treeless islan!, co ere! with slag an! forgesE an! how a great hairy man, fiery an! smutty, came !own an! shoute! after themE an! how when they ma!e the sign of the Cross an! saile! away, he an! his fellows brought !own huge lumps of burning slag in tongs, an! hurle! them after the shipE an! how they went back, an! blew their forges up, till the whole islan! flare!, an! the sea boile!, an! the howling an! stench followe! them, e en when they were out of sight of that e il isleE an! how -t" Bren!an ba!e them strengthen themsel es in faith an! spiritual arms, for they were now on the confines of hell, therefore they must watch, an! play the man" 3ll this must nee!s be hastene! o er, that we may come to the famous legen! of @u!as %scariot" They saw a great an! high mountain towar! the north, with smoke about its peak" 3n! the win! blew them close un!er the cliffs, which were of immense height, so that they coul! har!ly see their top, upright as walls, an! black as coal" L405M Then he who remaine! of the three brethren who ha! followe! -t" Bren!an sprang out of the ship, an! wa!e! to the cliff foot, groaning, an! crying, $(oe to me, father, for % am carrie! away from youE an! cannot turn back"$ Then the brethren backe! the ship, an! crie! to the <or! for mercy" But the blesse! )ather Bren!an saw how that wretch was carrie! off by a multitu!e of !e ils, an! all on fire among them" Then a fair win! blew them away southwar!E an! when they looke! back they saw the peak of the isle unco ere!, an! flame spouting from it up to hea en, an! sinking back again, till the whole mountain seeme! one burning pile" 3fter that terrible ision they saile! se en !ays to the south, till )ather Bren!an saw a !ense clou!E when they neare! it, a form as of a man sitting, an! before him a eil, as big as a sack, hanging between two iron tongs, an! rocking on the wa es like a boat in a whirlwin!" (hich when the brethren saw some thought was a bir!, an! some a boatE but the man of Go! ba!e them gi e o er arguing, an! row thither" 3n! when they got near, the wa es were still, as if they ha! been froHenE an! they foun! a man sitting on a rough an! shapeless rock, an! the wa es beating o er his hea!E an! when they fell back, the bare rock appeare! on which that wretch was sitting" 3n! the cloth which hung before him the win! mo e!, an! beat him with it on the eyes an! brow" But when the blesse! man aske! him who he was, an! how he ha! earne! that !oom, he sai!, $% am that most wretche! @u!as, who ma!e the worst of all bargains" But % hol! not this place for any merit of my own, but for the ineffable mercy of Christ" % e+pect no place of repentance2 but for the in!ulgence an! mercy of the ,e!eemer of the worl!, an! for the honour of His holy resurrection, % ha e this refreshmentE for it is the <or!Gs>!ay now, an! as % sit here % seem to myself in a para!ise of !elight, by reason of the pains which will be mine this e eningE for when % am in my pains % burn !ay an! night like lea! melte! in a pot" But in the mi!st of that mountain which you saw, is <e iathan with his satellites, an! % was there when he swallowe! your brotherE an! therefore the king of hell rejoice!, an! sent forth huge flames, as he !oth always when he !e ours the souls of the impious"$ Then he tol! them how he ha! his refreshings there e ery <or!Gs>!ay from e en to e en, an! from Christmas to Epiphany, an! from Easter to Pentecost, an! from the Purification of the Blesse! *irgin to her 3ssumption2 but the rest of his time he was tormente! with Hero!

an! Pilate, 3nnas an! CaiaphasE an! so a!jure! them to interce!e for him with the <or! that he might be there at least till sunrise in the morn" To whom the man of Go! sai!, $The will of the <or! be !one" Thou shalt not be carrie! off by the !aemons till to>morrow"$ Then he aske! him of that clothing, an! he tol! how he ha! gi en it to a leper when he was the <or!Gs chamberlainE $but because it was no more mine than it was the <or!Gs an! the other brethrenGs, therefore it is of no comfort to me, but rather a hurt" 3n! these forks % ga e to the priests to hang their cal!rons on" 3n! this stone on which % always sit % took off the roa!, an! threw it into a !itch for a stepping>stone, before % was a !isciple of the <or!"$ L404M But when the e ening hour ha! co ere! the face of Thetis,$ behol! a multitu!e of !aemons shouting in a ring, an! bi!!ing the man of Go! !epart, for else they coul! not approachE an! they !are! not behol! their princeGs face unless they brought back their prey" But the man of Go! ba!e them !epart" 3n! in the morning an infinite multitu!e of !e ils co ere! the face of the abyss, an! curse! the man of Go! for coming thitherE for their prince ha! scourge! them cruelly that night for not bringing back the capti e" But the man of Go! returne! their curses on their own hea!s, saying that $curse! was he whom they blest, an! blesse! he whom they curse!E$ an! when they threatene! @u!as with !ouble torments because he ha! not come back, the man of Go! rebuke! them" $3rt thou, then, <or! of all,$ they aske!, $that we shoul! obey theeJ$ $% am the ser ant,$ sai! he, $of the <or! of allE an! whatsoe er % comman! in his name is !oneE an! % ha e no ministry sa e what he conce!es to me"$ -o they blaspheme! him till he left @u!as, an! then returne!, an! carrie! off that wretche! soul with great rushing an! howling" 3fter which they saw a little isleE an! the holy now se en years were nigh pastE an! that in that soon see a hermit, name! Paul the -piritual, who years without any corporeal foo!, but for thirty he ha! recei e! foo! from a certain beast" man tol! them that isle they shoul! ha! li e! for si+ty years before that

The isle was ery small, about a furlong roun!E a bare rock, so steep that they coul! fin! no lan!ing>place" But at last they foun! a creek, into which they thrust the boatGs bow, an! then !isco ere! a ery !ifficult ascent" =p that the man of Go! climbe!, bi!!ing them wait for him, for they must not enter the isle without the hermitGs lea eE an! when he came to the top he saw two ca es, with their mouths opposite each other, an! a ery small roun! well before the ca e mouth, whose waters, as fast as they ran out, were sucke! in again by the rock" L40CM 3s he went to one entrance, the ol! man came out of the other, saying, $Behol! how goo! an! pleasant it is, brethren, to !well together in unity,$ an! ba!e him call up the brethren from the boatE an! when they came, he kisse! them, an! calle! them each by his name" (hereat they mar elle!, not only at his spirit of prophecy, but also at his attireE for he was all co ere! with his locks an! bear!, an! with the other hair of his bo!y, !own to his feet" His hair was white as snow for age, an! none other co ering ha! he" (hen -t" Bren!an saw that, he sighe! again an! again, an! sai! within himself, $(oe is me, sinner that % am, who wear a monkGs habit, an! ha e many monks un!er me, when % see a man of angelic !ignity sitting in a cell, still in the flesh, an! unhurt by the ices of the flesh"$ To whom the man of Go!

answere!, $*enerable father, what great an! many won!ers Go! hath showe! thee, which he hath manifeste! to none of the fathers, an! thou sayest in thy heart that thou art not worthy to wear a monkGs habit" % tell thee, father, that thou art greater than a monkE for a monk is fe! an! clothe! by the work of his own han!s2 but Go! has fe! an! clothe! thee an! thy family for se en years with his secret things, while wretche! % sit here on this rock like a bir!, nake! sa e the hair of my bo!y"$ Then -t" Bren!an aske! him how an! whence he came thitherE an! he tol! how he was nourishe! in -t" PatrickGs monastery for fifty years, an! took care of the cemeteryE an! how when the !ean ha! bi!!en him !ig a gra e, an ol! man, whom he knew not, appeare! to him, an! forba!e him, for that gra e was another manGs" 3n! how he re eale! to him that he was -t" Patrick, his own abbot, who ha! !ie! the !ay before, an! ba!e him bury that brother elsewhere, an! go !own to the sea an! fin! a boat, which woul! take him to the place where he shoul! wait for the !ay of his !eathE an! how he lan!e! on that rock, an! thrust the boat off with his foot, an! it went swiftly back to its own lan!E an! how, on the ery first !ay, a beast came to him, walking on its hin! paws, an! between its fore paws a fish, an! grass to make a fire, an! lai! them at his feetE an! so e ery thir! !ay for twenty yearsE an! e ery <or!Gs !ay a little water came out of the rock, so that he coul! !rink an! wash his han!sE an! how after thirty years he ha! foun! these ca es an! that fountain, an! ha! fe! for the last si+ty years on nought but the water thereof" )or all the years of his life were .65, an! henceforth he awaite! the !ay of his ju!gment in that his flesh" Then they took of that water, an! recei e! his blessing, an! kisse! each other in the peace of Christ, an! saile! southwar!2 but their foo! was the water from the isle of the man of Go!" Then Ias Paul the Hermit ha! foretol!K they came back on Easter E e to the %sle of -heep, an! to him who use! to gi e them ictualsE an! then went on to the fish @asconius, an! sang praises on his back all night, an! mass at morn" 3fter which the fish carrie! them on his back to the Para!ise of Bir!s, an! there they staye! till Pentecost" Then the man who always ten!e! them, ba!e them fill their skins from the fountain, an! he woul! lea! them to the lan! promise! to the saints" 3n! all the bir!s wishe! them a prosperous oyage in Go!Gs nameE an! they saile! away, with forty !aysG pro ision, the man being their gui!e, till after forty !ays they came at e ening to a great !arkness which lay roun! the Promise! <an!" But after they ha! saile! through it for an hour, a great light shone roun! them, an! the boat stoppe! at a shore" 3n! when they lan!e! they saw a spacious lan!, full of trees bearing fruit as in autumn time" 3n! they walke! about that lan! for forty !ays, eating of the fruit an! !rinking of the fountains, an! foun! no en! thereof" 3n! there was no night there, but the light shone like the light of the sun" 3t last they came to a great ri er, which they coul! not cross, so that they coul! not fin! out the e+tent of that lan!" 3n! as they were pon!ering o er this, a youth, with shining face an! fair to look upon, met them, an! kisse! them with great joy, calling them each by his name, an! sai!, $Brethren, peace be with you, an! with all that follow the peace of Christ"$ 3n! after that, $Blesse! are they who !well in thy house, ? <or!E they shall be for e er praising thee"$ Then he tol! -t" Bren!an that that was the lan! which he ha! been seeking for se en years, an! that he must now return to his own country, taking of the fruits of that lan!, an! of its precious gems, as much as his ship coul! carryE for the !ays of his !eparture

were at han!, when he shoul! sleep in peace with his holy brethren" But after many !ays that lan! shoul! be re eale! to his successors, an! shoul! be a refuge for Christians in persecution" 3s for the ri er that they saw, it parte! that islan!E an! the light shone there for e er, because Christ was the light thereof" Then -t" Bren!an aske! if that lan! woul! e er be re eale! to men2 an! the youth answere!, that when the most high Creator shoul! ha e put all nations un!er his feet, then that lan! shoul! be manifeste! to all his elect" 3fter which -t" Bren!an, when the youth ha! blesse! him, took of the fruits an! of the gems, an! saile! back through the !arkness, an! returne! to his monasteryE whom when the brethren saw, they glorifie! Go! for the miracles which he ha! hear! an! seen" 3fter which he en!e! his life in peace" 3men" Here en!s Isays the )rench ersionK concerning -t" Bren!an, an! the mar els which he foun! in the sea of %relan!"

-T" B3<?

%ntermingle!, fantastically an! inconsistently, with the story of -t" Bren!an, is that of -t" Baclo ius or Bachutus, who has gi en his name to the seaport of -t" Balo, in Brittany" His life, written by -igebert, a monk of Gemblou+, about the year ..55, tells us how he was a Breton, who saile! with -t" Bren!an in search of the fairest of all islan!s, in which the citiHens of hea en were sai! to !well" (ith -t" Bren!an -t" Balo celebrate! Easter on the whaleGs back, an! with -t" Bren!an he returne!" But another ol! hagiographer, @ohannes a Bosco, tells a !ifferent story, making -t" Balo an %rishman brought up by -t" Bren!an, an! preser e! by his prayers from a wa e of the sea" He gi es, moreo er, to the %sle of Para!ise the name of %nga, an! says that -t" Bren!an an! his companions ne er reache! it after all, but came home after sailing roun! the ?rkneys an! other Aorthern isles" The fact is, that the same saints reappear so often on both si!es of the British an! the %rish Channels, that we must take the e+istence of many of them as mere legen!, which has been carrie! from lan! to lan! by monks in their migrations, an! taken root upon each fresh soil which it has reache!" ?ne inci!ent in -t" BaloGs oyage is so fantastic, an! so gran! likewise, that it must not be omitte!" The monks come to an islan! whereon they fin! the barrow of some giant of ol! time" -t" Balo, seiHe! with pity for the lost soul of the heathen, opens the moun! an! raises the !ea! to life" Then follows a strange con ersation between the giant an! the saint" He was slain, he says, by his kinsmen, an! e er since has been tormente! in the other worl!" %n that nether pit they know Ihe saysK of the Holy Trinity2 but that knowle!ge is rather harm than gain to them, because they !i! not choose to know it when ali e on earth" Therefore he begs to be baptiHe!, an! so !eli ere! from his pain" He is therefore instructe!, catechise!, an! in !ue time baptiHe!, an! a!mitte! to the Holy Communion" )or fifteen !ays more he remains ali e2 an! then, !ying once more, is again place! in his sepulchre, an! left in peace" )rom fragmentary recollections of such tales as these Iit may be

obser e! in passingK may ha e sprung the strange fancy of the mo!ern Cornishmen, which i!entifies these ery Celtic saints of their own race with the giants who, accor!ing to Geoffrey of Bonmouth, inhabite! the lan! before Brutus an! his Trojans foun!e! the 3rthuric !ynasty" -t" @ust, for instance, who is one of the guar!ian saints of the <an!Gs En!, an! -t" Ke ern, one of the guar!ian saints of the <iHar!, are both giantsE an! Cornishmen a few years since woul! tell how -t" @ust came from his hermitage by Cape Cornwall to isit -t" Ke ern in his ca e on the east si!e of Goonhilly #ownsE an! how they took the Holy Communion togetherE an! how -t" @ust, tempte! by the beauty of -t" Ke ernGs paten an! chalice, arose in the night an! fle! away with the holy essels, wa!ing first the <ooe Pool, an! then BountGs Bay itselfE an! how -t" Ke ern pursue! him, an! hurle! after him three great boul!ers of porphyry, two of which lie on the slates an! granites to this !ayE till -t" @ust, terrifie! at the might of his saintly brother, tosse! the stolen essels ashore opposite -t" BichaelGs Bount, an!, fleeing back to his own hermitage, ne er appeare! again in the neighbourhoo! of -t" Ke ern" But to return" -t" Balo, coming home with -t" Bren!an, cra es for peace, an! solitu!e, an! the hermitGs cell, an! goes !own to the sea>shore, to fin! a essel which may carry him out once more into the infinite unknown" Then there comes by a boat with no one in it but a little boy, who takes him on boar!, an! carries him to the isle of the hermit 3aron, near the town of 3letha, which men call -t" Balo nowE an! then the little boy anishes away, an! -t" Balo knows that he was Christ himself" There he li es with 3aron, till the Bretons of the neighbourhoo! make him their bishop" He con erts the i!olaters aroun!, an! performs the usual miracles of hermit saints" He changes water into wine, an! restores to life not only a !ea! man, but a !ea! sow likewise, o er whose motherless litter a wretche! sla e, who has by acci!ent kille! the sow with a stone, is weeping an! wringing his han!s in !rea! of his masterGs fury" (hile -t" Balo is pruning ines, he lays his cape upon the groun!, an! a re!breast comes an! lays an egg on it" He lea es it there, for the bir!Gs sake, till the young are hatche!, knowing, says his biographer, that without Go! the )ather not a sparrow falls to the groun!" Hailoch, the prince of Brittany, !estroys his church, an! is struck blin!" ,estore! to sight by the saint, he bestows large lan!s on the Church" $The impious generation,$ who, with their chil!ren after them, ha e lost their property by HailochGs gift, rise against -t" Balo" They steal his horses, an! in mockery lea e him only a mare" They beat his baker, tie his feet un!er the horseGs bo!y, an! lea e him on the san! to be !rowne! by the rising ti!e" The sea by a miracle stops a mile off, an! the baker is sa e!" -t" Balo, weary of the wicke! Bretons, flees to -aintonge in 3Fuitaine, where he performs yet more miracles" Beanwhile, a !ire famine falls on the Bretons, an! a thousan! horrible !iseases" Penitent, they sen! for -t" Balo, who !eli ers them an! their flocks" But, at the comman! of an angel, he returns to -aintonge an! !ies there, an! -aintonge has his relics, an! the innumerable miracles which they work, e en to the !ays of -igebert, of Gemblou+" -T" C?<=BB3

The famous -t" Columba cannot perhaps be numbere! among the hermits2 but as the spiritual father of many hermits, as well as many monks, an! as one whose influence upon the Christianity of these islan!s is notorious an! e+tensi e, he must nee!s ha e some notice in these pages" Those who wish to stu!y his life an! works at length will of course rea! #r" ,ee esGs in aluable e!ition of 3!amnan" The more general rea!er will fin! all that he nee! know in Br" Hill BurtonGs e+cellent $History of -cotlan!,$ chapters ii" an! iii"E an! also in Br" BaclearGs $History of Christian Bissions !uring the Bi!!le 3ges$>>a book which shoul! be in e ery -un!ay library" -t" Columba, like -t" #a i! an! -t" Ca!oc of (ales, an! like many great %rish saints, is a prince an! a statesman as well as a monk" He is mi+e! up in Fuarrels between ri al tribes" He is concerne!, accor!ing to antiFuaries, in three great battles, one of which sprang, accor!ing to some, from ColumbaGs own mis!ee!s" He copies by stealth the Psalter of -t" )innian" -t" )innian !eman!s the copy, saying it was his as much as the original" The matter is referre! to King #ermo!, who pronounces, in high court at Tara, the famous !ecision which has become a pro erb in %relan!, that $to e ery cow belongs her own calf"$ L49:M -t" Columba, who !oes not seem at this time to ha e possesse! the !o e>like temper which his name, accor!ing to his !isciples, in!icates, threatens to a enge upon the king his unjust !ecision" The son of the kingGs stewar! an! the son of the King of Connaught, a hostage at #ermo!Gs court, are playing hurley on the green before #ermo!Gs palace" The young prince strikes the other boy, kills him, an! flies for protection to Columba" He is ne ertheless !ragge! away, an! slain upon the spot" Columba lea es the palace in a rage, goes to his nati e mountains of #onegal, an! returns at the hea! of an army of northern an! western %rish to fight the great battle of Cool!re ny in -ligo" But after a while public opinion turns against himE an! at the -yno! of Teltown, in Beath, it is proclaime! that Columba, the man of bloo!, shall Fuit %relan!, an! win for Christ out of heathen!om as many souls as ha e perishe! in that great fight" Then Columba, with twel e comra!es, sails in a coracle for the coast of 3rgyleshireE an! on the e e of Pentecost, 3"#" 6N:, lan!s upon that islan! which, it may be, will be famous to all times as %ona, Hy, or %columkill,>>Hy of Columb of the Cells" Thus ha! Columba, if the tale be true, un!ertaken a noble penanceE an! he performe! it like a noble man" %f, accor!ing to the fashion of those times, he bewaile! his sins with tears, he was no morbi! or selfish recluse, but a man of practical power, an! of wi!e humanity" <ike one of HomerGs ol! heroes, -t" Columba coul! turn his han! to e ery kin! of work" He coul! turn the han!>mill, work on the farm, heal the sick, an! comman! as a practise! sailor the little fleet of coracles which lay haule! up on the stran! of %ona, rea!y to carry him an! his monks on their missionary oyages to the mainlan! or the isles" Tall, powerful, han!some, with a face which, as 3!amnan sai!, ma!e all who saw him gla!, an! a oice so stentorian that it coul! be hear! at times a full mile off, an! coming too of royal race, it is no won!er if he was regar!e! as a sort of !emigo!, not only by his own monks, but by the Pictish chiefs to whom he preache! the Cross" (e hear of him at Craig Pha!rick, near %n ernessE at -kye, at Tiree, an! other islan!sE we hear of him recei ing isits from his ol! monks of #erry an! #urrowE returning to %relan! to !eci!e between ri al chiefsE an! at last !ying at the age of se enty>se en, kneeling before the altar in his little chapel of %ona>>a !eath as beautiful as ha! been the last thirty>four years of his lifeE an! lea ing behin! him !isciples !estine! to sprea! the

light of Christianity o er the whole of -cotlan! an! the northern parts of Englan!" -t" Columba, at one perio! or other of his life, is sai! to ha e isite! a missionary hermit, whose name still lingers in -cotlan! as -t" Kentigern, or more commonly -t" Bungo, the patron saint of Glasgow" The two men, it is sai! Ibut the story belongs to the twelfth century, an! can har!ly be !epen!e! onK, e+change! their crooke! sta es or crosiers in token of Christian brotherhoo!, an! that which -t" Columba is sai! to ha e gi en to -t" Kentigern was preser e! in ,ipon Cathe!ral to the beginning of the fifteenth century" But who -t" Kentigern was, or what he really !i!, is har! to sayE for all his legen!s, like most of these early ones, are as tangle! as a !ream" He !ies in the year N5.2 an! yet he is the !isciple of the famous -t" -er anus or -t" -erf, who li e! in the times of -t" Palla!ius an! -t" Patrick, .95 years before" This -t" -erf is a hermit of the true ol! typeE an! e en if his story be, as #r" ,ee es thinks, a fabrication throughout, it is at least a ery early one, an! true to the i!eal which ha! originate! with -t" 3ntony" He is brought up in a monastery at Culross2 he is tempte! by the !e il in a ca e in the parish of #ysart Ithe #esertK, in )ifeshire, which still retains that name" The !aemon, fleeing from him, enters an unfortunate man, who is forthwith plague! with a wolfish appetite" -t" -erf cures him by putting his thumb into his mouth" 3 man is accuse! of stealing an! eating a lamb, an! !enies the theft" -t" -erf, howe er, makes the lamb bleat in the robberGs stomach, an! so substantiates the charge beyon! all !oubt" He works other won!ersE among them the slaying of a great !ragon in the place calle! $#unyneE$ sails for the ?rkneys, an! con erts the people thereE an! anishes thenceforth into the !ream>lan! from which he sprung" Two great !isciples he has, -t" Ternan an! -t" KentigernE mystery an! miracle hang roun! the boyhoo! of the latter" His father is unknown" His mother is con!emne! to be cast from the rock of $#unpel!er,$ but is sa e! an! absol e! by a miracle" Before the eyes of the astonishe! Picts, she floats gently !own through the air, an! arri es at the cliff foot unhurt" -t" Kentigern is thenceforth belie e! to be irgin>born, an! is re erence! as a miraculous being from his infancy" He goes to school to the mythic -t" -erf, who calls him Bungo, or the Belo e!E which name he bears in Glasgow until this !ay" His fellow>scholars en y his irtue an! learning, an! try to ruin him with their master" -t" -erf has a pet robin, which is wont to sit an! sing upon his shoul!er" The boys pull off its hea!, an! lay the blame upon Kentigern" The saint comes in wrathful, tawse in han!, an! Kentigern is for the moment in serious !angerE but, eFual to the occasion then as afterwar!s, he puts the robinGs hea! on again, sets it singing, an! amply in!icates his innocence" To this !ay the robin figures in the arms of the goo! city of Glasgow, with the tree which -t" Kentigern, when his enemies ha! put out his fire, brought in from the froHen forest an! lighte! with his breath, an! the salmon in whose mouth a ring which ha! been cast into the Cly!e ha! been foun! again by -t" KentigernGs prophetic spirit" The en y of his fellow>scholars, howe er, is too much for -t" KentigernGs peace of min!" He wan!ers away to the spot where Glasgow city now stan!s, li es in a rock hollowe! out into a tomb, is or!aine! by an %rish bishop Iaccor!ing to a Celtic custom, of which antiFuaries ha e written learne!ly an! !ubiously likewiseK, an! has ecclesiastical authority o er all the Picts from the )rith

of )orth to the ,oman (all" But all these stories, as % sai! before, are tangle! as a !reamE for the twelfth century monks, in their loyal !e otion to the see of ,ome, are apt to intro!uce again an! again ecclesiastical customs which belonge! to their own time, an! try to represent these primae al saints as regular an! well> !iscipline! ser ants of the Pope" %t may be remarke! that -t" -erf is sai! to ha e come into a $!ysart$ or !esert" -o !i! many monks of the school of -t" Columba an! his !isciples, who wishe! for a se erer an! a more me!itati e life than coul! be foun! in the busy society of a con ent" $There was a G!isert,G$ says #r" ,ee es, $for such men to retire to, besi!es the monastery of #erry, an! another at %ona itself, situate near the shore in the low groun!, north of the Cathe!ral, as may be inferre! from Portan!isiart, the name of a little bay in this situation"$ 3 similar $!isert$ or collection of hermit cells was en!owe! at Cashel in ..5.E an! a $!isert columkill,$ with two townlan! mills an! a egetable gar!en, was en!owe! at Kells, at a somewhat earlier perio!, for the use of $!e out pilgrims,$ as those were calle! who left the society of men to worship Go! in solitu!e" The *enerable Be!e speaks of as many as three personages, -a+ons by their names, who in the %sle of %relan! le! the $Pilgrim$ or anchoritic life, to obtain a country in hea enE an! tells of a #rycthelm of the monastery at Belrose, who went into a secret !welling therein to gi e himself more utterly to prayer, an! who use! to stan! for hours in the col! waters of the Twee!, as -t" Go!ric !i! centuries afterwar!s in those of the (ear" -olitaries, $recluses,$ are met with again an! again in these ol! recor!s, who more than once became 3bbots of %ona itself" But there is no nee! to linger on o er instances which are only Fuote! to show that some of the noblest spirits of the Celtic Church kept up where er they coul! the hermitGs i!eal, the longing for solitu!e, for passi e contemplation, for silence an! perpetual prayer, which they ha! inherite! from -t" 3ntony an! the )athers of the Egyptian #esert" The same i!eal was carrie! by them o er the Bor!er into Englan!" ?ff its e+treme northern coast, for instance, nearly half>way between Berwick an! Bamborough Castle, lies, as tra ellers northwar! may ha e seen for themsel es, the $Holy %slan!,$ calle! in ol! times <in!isfarne" 3 monkGs chapel on that islan! was the mother of all the churches between Tyne an! Twee!, as well as of many between Tyne an! Humber" The Aorthumbrians ha! been nominally con erte!, accor!ing to Be!e, 3"#" N40, un!er their King E!win, by Paulinus, one of the ,oman monks who ha! followe! in the steps of -t" 3ugustine, the apostle of Kent" E il times ha! fallen on them" Pen!a, at the hea! of the i!olatrous Bercians Ithe people of Bi!> Englan!K, an! Cea!walla, at the hea! of the (estern Britons, ha! ra age! the country north of Twee! with sa age cruelty, slain King E!win, at Hatfiel!, near #oncaster, an! e+terminate! ChristianityE while Paulinus ha! fle! to Kent, an! become Bishop of ,ochester" The in a!ers ha! been !ri en out, seemingly by ?swal!, who knew enough of Christianity to set up, ere he engage! the enemy, a cross of woo! on the $Hea enfiel!,$ near He+ham" That cross stoo! till the time of Be!e, some .65 years afterE an! ha! become, like BosesG braHen serpent, an object of eneration" )or if chips cut off from it were put into water, that water cure! men or cattle of their !iseases" ?swal!, belie ing that it was through the mercy of him whom that cross symboliHe! he ha! conFuere! the Bercians an! the Britons,

woul! nee!s recon ert his people to the true faith" He ha! been in e+ile !uring E!winGs lifetime among the -cots, an! ha! learne! from them something of Christianity" -o out of %ona a monk was sent to him, 3i!an by name, to be a bishop o er the AorthumbriansE an! he settle! himself upon the isle of <in!isfarne, an! began to con ert it into another %ona" $3 man he was,$ says Be!e, $of singular sweetness, piety, an! mo!erationE Healous in the cause of Go!, though not altogether accor!ing to knowle!ge, for he was wont to keep Easter after the fashion of his countryE$ i"e" of the Picts an! Aorthern -cots" " " " $)rom that time forth many -cots came !aily into Britain, an! with great !e otion preache! the wor! to these pro inces of the English o er whom King ?swal! reigne!" " " " Churches were built, money an! lan!s were gi en of the kingGs bounty to buil! monasteriesE the English, great an! small, were by their -cottish masters instructe! in the rules an! obser ance of regular !isciplineE for most of those who came to preach were monks"$ L4/5M -o says the *enerable Be!e, the monk of @arrow, an! the father Ias he has been well calle!K of English history" He tells us too, how 3i!an, wishing, it may be suppose!, for greater solitu!e, went away an! li e! on the rocky isle of )arne, some two miles out at sea, off Bamborough CastleE an! how, when he saw Pen!a an! his Bercians, in a secon! in asion of Aorthumbria, trying to burn !own the walls of Bamborough>>which were probably mere stocka!es of timber>>he crie! to Go!, from off his rock, to $behol! the mischief2$ whereon the win! change! su!!enly, an! blew the flames back on the besiegers, !iscomfiting them, an! sa ing the town" Be!e tells us, too, how 3i!an wan!ere!, preaching from place to place, haunting King ?swal!Gs court, but owning nothing of his own sa e his church, an! a few fiel!s about itE an! how, when !eath came upon him, they set up a tent for him close by the wall at the west en! of the church, so that it befell that he ga e up the ghost leaning against a post, which stoo! outsi!e to strengthen the wall" 3 few years after, Pen!a came again an! burne! the illage, with the churchE an! yet neither coul! that fire, nor one which happene! soon after, !estroy that post" (herefore the post was put insi!e the church, as a holy thing, an! chips of it, like those of the Cross of Hea en )iel!, heale! many folk of their !istempers" " " " 3 tale at which we may look in two !ifferent humours" (e may pass it by with a sneer, an! a hypothesis Iwhich will be probably trueK that the post was of ol! heart>of>oak, which is burnt with e+treme !ifficultyE or we may pause a moment in re erence before the noble figure of the goo! ol! man, en!ing a life of unselfish toil without a roof beneath which to lay his hea!E penniless an! comfortless in this worl!2 but sure of his rewar! in the worl! to come" 3 few years after 3i!anGs !eath another hermit betook him to the rocks of )arne, who rose to far higher gloryE who became, in fact, the tutelar saint of the fierce Aorthern menE who was to them, up to the time e en of the Tu!or monarchs, what Pallas 3thene was to 3thens, or #iana to the Ephesians" -t" CuthbertGs shrine, in #urham Cathe!ral Iwhere his biographer Be!e also lay in honourK, was their rallying point, not merely for ecclesiastical juris!iction or for miraculous cures, but for political mo ements" 3bo e his shrine rose the noble pile of #urham" The bishop, who rule! in his name, was a Count Palatine, an! an almost in!epen!ent prince" His sacre! banner went out to battle before the Aorthern le ies, or !ro e back

again an! again the flames which consume! the woo!en houses of #urham" His relics wrought innumerable miraclesE an! often he himself appeare! with long countenance, ripene! by abstinence, his hea! sprinkle! with grey hairs, his casule of cloth of gol!, his mitre of glittering crystal, his face brighter than the sun, his eyes mil! as the stars of hea en, the gems upon his han! an! robes rattling against his pastoral staff beset with pearls" L4/4M Thus glorious the !emigo! of the Aorthern men appeare! to his otaries, an! steere! with his pastoral staff, as with a ru!!er, the sinking ship in safety to <in!isfarneE recei e! from the han!s of -t" Bren!an, as from a saint of inferior powers, the innocent yeoman, la!en with fetters, whom he ha! !eli ere! out of the !ungeon of Brancepeth, an!, smiting asun!er the massi e Aorman walls, le! him into the forest, an! ba!e him flee to sanctuary in #urham, an! be safeE or isite! the little timber ine>cla! chapel of <i+tune, on the Cheshire shore, to heal the sick who watche! all night before his altar, or to forgi e the la! who ha! robbe! the nest which his sacre! ra en ha! built upon the roof, an!, falling with the !ecaye! timber, ha! broken his bones, an! maime! his sacrilegious han!" ?riginally, says Be!e, a monk at Belrose, an! afterwar! abbot of the same place, he use! to wan!er weeks together out of his monastery, seemingly into Ettrick an! the <ammermuirs, an! preach in such illages as $being seate! high up among craggy, uncouth mountains, were frightful to others e en to look at, an! whose po erty an! barbarity ren!ere! them inaccessible to other teachers"$ $-o skilful an orator was he, so fon! of enforcing his subject, an! such a brightness appeare! in his angelic face, that no man presume! to conceal from him the most hi!!en secrets of their hearts, but all openly confesse! what they ha! !one"$ -o he laboure! for many years, till his ol! abbot Eata, who ha! become bishop an! abbot at <in!isfarne, sent for him thither, an! ma!e him prior of the monks for se eral years" But at last he longe!, like so many before him, for solitu!e" He consi!ere! Iso he sai! afterwar!s to the brethrenK that the life of the !iscipline! an! obe!ient monk was higher than that of the lonely an! in!epen!ent hermit2 but yet he longe! to be aloneE longe!, it may be, to recall at least upon some sea>girt rock thoughts which ha! come to him in those long wan!erings on the heather moors, with no soun! to !istract him sa e the hum of the bee an! the wail of the curlewE an! so he went away to that same rock of )arne, where 3i!an ha! taken refuge some ten or fifteen years before, an! there, with the !eep sea rolling at his feet an! the gulls wailing about his hea!, he built himself one of those $PictsG Houses,$ the walls of which remain still in many parts of -cotlan!>>a circular hut of turf an! rough stone>>an! !ug out the interior to a !epth of some feet, an! thatche! it with sticks an! grassE an! ma!e, it seems, two rooms withinE one for an oratory, one for a !welling>place2 an! so li e! alone, an! worshippe! Go!" He grew his scanty crops of barley on the rock Imen sai!, of course, by miracleK2 he ha! trie! wheat, but, as was to be e+pecte!, it faile!" He foun! Imen sai!, of course, by miracleK a spring upon the rock" Aow an! then brethren came to isit him" 3n! what !i! man nee! more, sa e a clear conscience an! the presence of his CreatorJ Certainly not Cuthbert" (hen he aske! the brethren to bring him a beam that he might prop up his cabin where the sea ha! eaten out the floor, an! when they forgot the commission, the sea itself washe! one up in the ery co e where it was nee!e!2 when the choughs from the cliff stole his barley an! the straw from the roof of his little hospice, he ha! only to repro e them, an! they ne er offen!e! againE on one

occasion, in!ee!, they atone! for their offence by bringing him a lump of suet, wherewith he grease! his shoes for many a !ay" (e are not boun! to belie e this storyE it is one of many which hang about the memory of -t" Cuthbert, an! which ha e sprung out of that lo e of the wil! bir!s which may ha e grown up in the goo! man !uring his long wan!erings through woo!s an! o er moors" He beFueathe! Iso it was belie e!K as a sacre! legacy to the wil!>fowl of the )arne islan!s, $-t" CuthbertGs peaceE$ abo e all to the ei!er>!ucks, which swarme! there in his !ays, but are now, alas1 growing rarer an! rarer, from the intrusion of ulgar sportsmen who ne er hear! -t" CuthbertGs name, or learnt from him to spare Go!Gs creatures when they nee! them not" ?n )arne, in ,eginal!Gs time, they bre! un!er your ery be!, got out of your way if you ma!e a sign to them, let you take up them or their young ones, an! nestle! silently in your bosom, an! croake! joyfully with fluttering wings when stroke!" $Aot to nature, but to graceE not to here!itary ten!ency, but only to the piety an! compassion of the blesse! -t" Cuthbert,$ says ,eginal!, $is so great a miracle to be ascribe!" )or the <or! who ma!e all things in hea en an! earth has subjecte! them to the no! of his saints, an! prostrate! them un!er the feet of obe!ience"$ %nsufficient in!uction Ithe cause of en!less mistakes, an! therefore of en!less follies an! crimesK kept ,eginal! unaware of the now notorious fact that the female ei!er, !uring the bree!ing season, is just as tame, allowing for a little e+aggeration, as -t" CuthbertGs own !ucks are, while the male ei!er is just as wil! an! wary as any other sea>bir!2 a mistake altogether e+cusable in one who ha! probably ne er seen or hear! of ei!er>!ucks in any other spot" %t may be, ne ertheless, that -t" CuthbertGs special affection for the ei!er may ha e been calle! out by another strange an! well>known fact about them of which ,eginal! o!!ly enough takes no note>> namely, that they line their nests with !own plucke! from their own bosomE thus realiHing the fable which has ma!e the pelican for so many centuries the type of the Church" %t is a Fuestion, in!ee!, whether the pelican, which is always represente! in me!iae al paintings an! sculptures with a short bill, instea! of the enormous bill an! pouch which is the especial mark of the $?nocrotalus$ of the ancients, now miscalle! pelican, be not actually the ei!er>!uck itself, confoun!e! with the true pelecanus, which was the me!iae al, an! is still the scientific, name of the cormorant" Be that as it may, ill befell any one who !are touch one of -t" CuthbertGs bir!s, as was pro e! in the case of <i eing, ser ant to 3Elric, who was a hermit in )arne after the time of -t" Cuthbert" )or he, tire! it may be of barley an! !rie! fish, kille! an! ate an ei!er>!uck in his masterGs absence, scattering the bones an! feathers o er the cliffs" But when the hermit came back, what shoul! he fin! but those same bones an! feathers rolle! into a lump an! lai! insi!e the !oor of the little chapelE the ery sea, says ,eginal!, not ha ing !are! to swallow them up" (hereby the hapless <i eing being betraye!, was soun!ly flogge!, an! put on brea! an! water for many a !ayE the which story <i eing himself tol! to ,eginal!" Aot only the ei!er, but all bir!s in )arne, were protecte! by -t" CuthbertGs peace" Bartholomew, who was a famous hermit there in after years, ha! a tame bir!, says the chronicler, who ate from his han!, an! hoppe! about the table among him an! his guests, till some thought it a miracleE an! some, fin!ing, no !oubt, the rocks of )arne weary enough, !eri e! continual amusement from the bir!" But when he one !ay went off to another islan!, an! left his bir! to keep the house, a hawk came in an! ate it up" Cuthbert, who coul! not sa e the bir!, at least coul! punish the mur!erer" The hawk flew roun! an! roun! the islan!, imprisone!, so it was thought, by

some mysterious power, till, terrifie! an! worn out, it flew into the chapel, an! lay, cowering an! half !ea!, in a corner by the altar" Bartholomew came back, foun! his bir!Gs feathers, an! the tire! hawk" But e en the hawk must profit by -t" CuthbertGs peace" He took it up, carrie! it to the harbour, an! there ba!e it !epart in -t" CuthbertGs name, whereon it flew off free, an! was no more seen" -uch tales as these may be e+plaine!, e en to their most minute !etails, by simply natural causes2 an! yet, in this age of wanton !estruction of wil! bir!s, one is tempte! at moments to wish for the return of some such graceful an! humane superstition which coul! keep !own, at least in the name of mercy an! humanity, the nee!less cruelty of man" But to return" 3fter -t" Cuthbert, says Be!e, ha! ser e! Go! in the solitu!e of )arne for many years, the moun! which encompasse! his habitation being so high that he coul! see nothing from thence but hea en, to which he so ar!ently aspire!, he was compelle! by tears an! entreaties>>King Egfri! himself coming to the islan!, with bishops an! religious an! great men>>to become himself bishop in Holy %slan!" There, as elsewhere, he !i! his !uty" But after two years he went again to )arne, knowing that his en! was near" )or when, in his episcopal labours, he ha! gone across to <ugubalia>>ol! Penrith, in Cumberlan!>>there came across to him a holy hermit, Herebert by name, who !welt upon an islan! in #erwentwater, an! talke! with him a long while on hea enly thingsE an! Cuthbert ba!e him ask him then all the Fuestions which he wishe! to ha e resol e!, for they shoul! see each other no more in this worl!" Herebert, who seems to ha e been one of his ol! frien!s, fell at CuthbertGs feet, an! ba!e him remember that whene er he ha! !one wrong he ha! submitte! himself to him utterly, an! always trie! to li e accor!ing to his rulesE an! all he wishe! for now was that, as they ha! ser e! Go! together upon earth, they might !epart for e er to see his bliss in hea en2 the which befellE for a few months afterwar!s, that is, on the 45th of Barch, their souls Fuitte! their mortal bo!ies on the same !ay, an! they were re>unite! in spirit" -t" Cuthbert wishe! to ha e been burie! on his rock in )arne2 but the brethren ha! persua!e! him to allow his corpse to be remo e! to Holy %slan!" He begge! them, sai! Be!e, shoul! they be force! to lea e that place, to carry his bones along with themE an! so they were force! to !o at lastE for in the year 906E whilst the #anes were struggling with 3lfre! in (esse+, an army of them, with Half!ene at their hea!, went up into Aorthumbria, burning towns, !estroying churches, tossing chil!ren on their pike>points, an! committing all those horrors which ma!e the Aorsemen terrible an! infamous for so many years" Then the monks fle! from the monastery, bearing the shrine of -t" Cuthbert, an! all their treasures, an! followe! by their retainers, men, women, an! chil!ren, an! their sheep an! o+en2 an! behol!1 the hour of their flight was that of an e+cee!ingly high spring ti!e" The #anes were lan!ing from their ships in their rearE in their front was some two miles of sea" Escape seeme! hopelessE when, says the legen!, the water retreate! before the holy relics as they a! ance!E an! became, as to the chil!ren of %srael of ol!, a wall on their right han! an! on their leftE an! so -t" Cuthbert came safe to shore, an! wan!ere! in the woo!s, borne upon his ser antsG shoul!ers, an! !welling in tents for se en years, an! foun! rest at last in #urham, till at the ,eformation his shrine, an! that of the *enerable Be!e, were robbe! of their gol! an! jewelsE an! no trace of them Ias far as % knowK is left, sa e that huge slab, whereon is written the monkish rhyme2>>

Hic jacet in fossa Be!ae *enerabilis ossa" L4//M

-T" G=TH<3C

Hermits !welling in the wil!erness, as far as % am aware, were to be seen only in the northern an! western parts of the islan!, where not only !i! the forest affor! concealment, but the crags an! ca es shelter" The southern an! eastern English sel!om possess the i i! imagination of the Briton, the Aorthumbrian, an! the -cotE while the rich lowlan!s of central, southern, an! eastern Englan!, well people! an! well tille!, offere! few spots lonely enough for the hermitGs cell" ?ne !istrict only was !esolate enough to attract those who wishe! to be free from the worl!,>>namely, the great fens north of Cambri!geE an! there, accor!ingly, as early as the se enth century, hermits settle! in morasses now so utterly transforme! that it is !ifficult to restore in oneGs imagination the original scenery" The fens in the se enth century were probably ery like the forests at the mouth of the Bississippi, or the swampy shores of the Carolinas" Their ast plain is now, in summer, one sea of gol!en cornE in winter, a black !reary fallow, cut into sFuares by stagnant !ykes, an! broken only by unsightly pumping mills an! !oleful lines of poplar>trees" ?f ol! it was a labyrinth of black wan!ering streamsE broa! lagoonsE morasses submerge! e ery spring>ti!eE ast be!s of ree! an! se!ge an! fernE ast copses of willow, al!er, an! grey poplar, roote! in the floating peat, which was swallowing up slowly, all>!e ouring, yet all>preser ing, the forests of fir an! oak, ash an! poplar, haHel an! yew, which ha! once grown on that low, rank soil, sinking slowly Iso geologists assure usK beneath the sea from age to age" Trees, torn !own by floo! an! storm, floate! an! lo!ge! in rafts, !amming the waters back upon the lan!" -treams, bewil!ere! in the flats, change! their channels, mingling silt an! san! with the peat moss" Aature, left to herself, ran into wil! riot an! chaos more an! more, till the whole fen became one $#ismal -wamp,$ in which, at the time of the Aorman ConFuest, the $<ast of the English,$ like #re! in Brs" -toweGs tale, took refuge from their tyrants, an! li e!, like him, a free an! joyous life awhile" )or there are islan!s in the sea which ha e escape! the !estroying !eluge of peat>moss,>>outcrops of firm an! fertile lan!, which in the early Bi!!le 3ge were so many natural parks, co ere! with richest grass an! stateliest trees, swarming with !eer an! roe, goat an! boar, as the streams aroun! swarme! with otter an! bea er, an! with fowl of e ery feather, an! fish of e ery scale" Beautiful after their kin! were those far isles in the eyes of the monks who were the first settlers in the wil!erness" The author of the $History of ,amsey$ grows enthusiastic, an! somewhat bombastic also, as he !escribes the lo ely isle, which got its name from the solitary ram who ha! wan!ere! thither, either in e+treme !rought or o er the winter ice, an!, ne er able to return, was foun! fee!ing among the wil! !eer, fat beyon! the wont of rams" He tells of the

stately ashes, most of them cut in his time, to furnish mighty beams for the church roofE of the rich pastures painte! with all gay flowers in springE of the $green crown$ of ree! an! al!er which encircle! the isleE of the fair wi!e mere Inow !raine!K with its $san!y beach$ along the forest si!eE $a !elight,$ he says, $to all who look thereon"$ %n like humour (illiam of Balmesbury, writing in the first half of the twelfth century, speaks of Thorney 3bbey an! its isle" $%t represents,$ says he, $a ery para!iseE for that in pleasure an! !elight it resembles hea en itself" These marshes aboun! in trees, whose length, without a knot, !oth emulate the stars" The plain there is as le el as the sea, alluring the eye with its green grass, an! so smooth that there is nought to trip the foot of him who runs through it" Aeither is there any waste placeE for in some parts are apples, in others ines, which are either sprea! on the groun!, or raise! on poles" 3 mutual strife there is between Aature an! 3rtE so that what one pro!uces not the other supplies" (hat shall % say of those fair buil!ings, which Gtis so won!erful to see the groun! among those fens upbearJ$ -o wrote (illiam of Balmesbury, after the in!ustry an! wis!om of the monks, for more than four centuries, ha! been at work to ci iliHe an! culti ate the wil!erness" &et e en then there was another si!e to the pictureE an! Thorney, ,amsey, or Crowlan! woul! ha e seeme!, for nine months e ery year, sa! places enough to us comfortable folk of the nineteenth century" But men li e! har! in those !ays, e en the most high>born an! lu+urious nobles an! la!iesE un!er !ark skies, in houses which we shoul! think, from !arkness, !raught, an! want of space, unfit for felonsG cells" Har!ly they li e!E an! easily were they please!E an! thanke! Go! for the least gleam of sunshine, the least patch of green, after the terrible an! long winters of the Bi!!le 3ges" 3n! ugly enough those winters must ha e been, what with snow an! !arkness, floo! an! ice, ague an! rheumatismE while through the !reary winterGs night the whistle of the win! an! the wil! cries of the waterfowl were translate! into the howls of witches an! !aemonsE an! Ias in -t" GuthlacGs caseK, the !elirious fancies of marsh fe er ma!e those fien!s take hi!eous shapes before the inner eye, an! act fantastic horrors roun! the fen>manGs be! of se!ge" Concerning this -t" Guthlac full !etails remain, both in <atin an! 3nglo>-a+onE the author of the original !ocument professing to be one )eli+, a monk of ,amsey near by, who wrote possibly as early as the eighth century" L:5:M There we may rea! how the young warrior>noble Guthlac I$The Battle> Play,$ the $-port of (ar$K, tire! of slaying an! sinning, bethought him to fulfil the pro!igies seen at his birthE how he wan!ere! into the fen, where one Tatwin Iwho after became a saint likewiseK took him in his canoe to a spot so lonely as to be almost unknown, burie! in ree!s an! al!ers, an! how he foun! among the trees nought but an ol! $law,$ as the -cots still call a moun!, which men of ol! ha! broken into seeking for treasure, an! a little pon!E an! how he built himself a hermitGs cell thereon, an! saw isions an! wrought miraclesE an! how men came to him, as to a fakir or shaman of the EastE notably one Beccel, who acte! as his ser antE an! how as Beccel was sha ing the saint one !ay there fell on him a great temptation2 (hy shoul! he not cut -t" GuthlacGs throat, an! instal himself in his cell, that he might ha e the honour an! glory of sainthoo!J But -t" Guthlac percei e! the inwar! temptation Iwhich

is tol! with the nai e honesty of those half>sa age timesK, an! rebuke! the offen!er into confession, an! all went well to the en!" There we may rea!, too, a !etaile! account of the )auna now happily e+tinct in the fensE of the creatures who use! to hale -t" Guthlac out of his hut, !rag him through the bogs, carry him aloft through frost an! fire>>$#e elen an! luther gostes$>>such as tormente! in like wise -t" Botolph Ifrom whom Botulfston R Boston, has its nameK, an! who were suppose! to haunt the meres an! fens, an! to ha e an especial fon!ness for ol! heathen barrows with their fancie! treasure>hoar!s2 how they $fille! the house with their coming, an! poure! in on e ery si!e, from abo e, an! from beneath, an! e erywhere" They were in countenance horrible, an! they ha! great hea!s, an! a long neck, an! a lean isageE they were filthy an! sFuali! in their bear!s, an! they ha! rough ears, an! crooke! Gnebs,G an! fierce eyes, an! foul mouthsE an! their teeth were like horsesG tusksE an! their throats were fille! with flame, an! they were grating in their oiceE they ha! crooke! shanks, an! knees big an! great behin!, an! !istorte! toes, an! crie! hoarsely with their oicesE an! they came with immo!erate noise an! immense horror, that he thought that all between, hea en an! earth resoun!e! with their oices" " " " 3n! they tugge! an! le! him out of the cot, an! le! him to the swart fen, an! threw an! sunk him in the mu!!y waters" 3fter that they brought him into the wil! places of the wil!erness, among the thick be!s of brambles, that all his bo!y was torn" " " " 3fter that they took him an! beat him with iron whips, an! after that they brought him on their creaking wings between the col! regions of the air"$ But there are gentler an! more human touches in that ol! legen!" &ou may rea! in it how all the wil! bir!s of the fen came to -t" Guthlac, an! he fe! them after their kin!E how the ra ens tormente! him, stealing letters, glo es, an! what not, from his isitorsE an! then, seiHe! with compunction at his reproofs, brought them back, or hange! them on the ree!sE an! how, as (ilfri!, a holy isitant, was sitting with him, !iscoursing of the contemplati e life, two swallows came flying in, an! lifte! up their song, sitting now on the saintGs han!, now on his shoul!er, now on his kneeE an! how, when (ilfri! won!ere! thereat, Guthlac ma!e answer, $Know you not that he who hath le! his life accor!ing to Go!Gs will, to him the wil! beasts an! the wil! bir!s !raw the more nearJ$ 3fter fifteen years of such a life, in fe er, ague, an! star ation, no won!er if -t" Guthlac !ie!" They burie! him in a lea!en coffin Ia gran! an! e+pensi e lu+ury in the se enth centuryK which ha! been sent to him !uring his life by a -a+on princessE an! then, o er his sacre! an! won!er>working corpse, as o er that of a Bu!!hist saint, there arose a chapel, with a community of monks, companies of pilgrims who came to worship, sick who came to be heale!E till at last, foun!e! on great piles !ri en into the bog, arose the lofty woo!en 3bbey of Crowlan!E in $sanctuary of the four ri ers,$ with its !ykes, parks, ineyar!s, orchar!s, rich ploughlan!s, from which, in time of famine, the monks of Crowlan! fe! all people of the neighbouring fensE with its tower with se en bells, which ha! not their like in Englan!E its twel e altars rich with the gifts of #anish ikings an! princes, an! e en with twel e white bear>skins, the gift of CanuteGs selfE while all aroun! were the cottages of the corro!iers, or folk who, for a corro!y, or life pittance from the abbey, ha! gi en away their lan!s, to the wrong an! !etriment of their heirs"

But within those four ri ers, at least, were neither tyranny nor sla ery" Those who took refuge in -t GuthlacGs place from cruel lor!s must keep his peace towar! each other, an! earn their li ing like honest men, safe while they so !i!2 for between those four ri ers -t" Guthlac an! his abbot were the only lor!sE an! neither summoner, nor sheriff of the king, nor arme! force of knight or earl, coul! enter>>$the inheritance of the <or!, the soil of -t" Bary an! -t" Bartholomew, the most holy sanctuary of -t" Guthlac an! his monksE the minister free from worl!ly ser itu!eE the special almshouse of most illustrious kingsE the sole refuge of any one in worl!ly tribulationE the perpetual abo!e of the saintsE the possession of religious men, specially set apart by the common council of the realmE by reason of the freFuent miracles of the holy confessor -t" Guthlac, an e er>fruitful mother of camphire in the ineyar!s of Enge!iE an!, by reason of the pri ileges grante! by the kings, a city of grace an! safety to all who repent"$ #oes not all this soun! like a oice from another planetJ %t is all goneE an! it was goo! an! right that it shoul! go when it ha! !one its work, an! that the ci iliHation of the fen shoul! be taken up an! carrie! out by men like the goo! knight, ,ichar! of ,ulos, who, two generations after the ConFuest, marrying Herewar!Gs gran!> !aughter, an! becoming <or! of #eeping Ithe !eep mea!owK, thought that he coul! !o the same work from the hall of Bourne as the monks !i! from their cloistersE got permission from the Crowlan! monks, for twenty marks of sil er, to !rain as much as he coul! of the common marshesE an! then shut out the (ellan! by strong !ykes, built cottages, marke! out gar!ens, an! tille! fiel!s, till $out of slough an! bogs accurse! he ma!e a gar!en of pleasure"$ &et one lasting work those monks of Crowlan! seem to ha e !one, besi!es those firm !ykes an! rich corn>lan!s of the Porsan!, which en!ure unto this !ay" )or within two generations of the Aorman conFuest, while the ol! woo!en abbey, !estroye! by fire, was being replace! by that noble pile of stone whose ruins are still stan!ing, the )rench abbot of Crowlan! Iso runs the legen!K sent )rench monks to open a school un!er the new )rench !onjon, in the little ,oman town of Grante>briggeE whereby>>so !oes all earnest work, howe er mistaken, grow an! sprea! in this worl!, infinitely an! for e er>> -t" Guthlac, by his canoe> oyage into Crowlan! %slan!, became the spiritual father of the =ni ersity of Cambri!ge in the ol! worl!E an! therefore of her noble !aughter, the =ni ersity of Cambri!ge, in the new worl! which fen>men sailing from Boston !eeps coloniHe! an! ChristianiHe! 955 years after -t" GuthlacGs !eath"

-T" G?#,%C ?) )%ACH3<E

3 personage Fuite as interesting, though not as famous, as Cuthbert or Guthlac, is -t" Go!ricE the hermit aroun! whose cell rose the Priory of )inchale" %n a loop of the ri er (ear, near #urham, there settle! in the !ays of Bishop )lambar!, between .5// an! ..49, a man whose parentage an! history was for many years unknown to the goo! folks of the neighbourhoo!" He ha! come, it seems, from a hermitage in Esk!ale, in the parish of (hitby, whence he ha! been !ri en by the Percys, lor!s of the soil" He ha! gone to #urham, become the !oorkeeper of -t" GilesGs church, an! gra!ually learnt by heart Ihe was no scholarK the whole Psalter" Then he ha! gone to -t" BaryGs

church, where Ias was the fashion of the timesK there was a chil!renGs schoolE an!, listening to the little ones at their lessons, picke! up such hymns an! prayers as he thought woul! suffice his spiritual wants" 3n! then, by lea e of the bishop, he ha! gone away into the woo!s, an! !e ote! himself to the solitary life in )inchale" Burie! in the woo!s an! crags of the $,oyal Park,$ as it was then calle!, which swarme! with e ery kin! of game, there was a little flat mea!ow, rough with sweet>gale an! bramble an! willow, besi!e a teeming salmon>pool" Great wol es haunte! the woo!sE but Go!ric care! nought for themE an! the shingles swarme! with snakes,>>probably only the harmless collare! snakes of wet mea!ows, but repute!, as all snakes are by the ulgar, enomous2 but he !i! not object to become $the companion of serpents an! poisonous asps"$ He han!le! them, caresse! them, let them lie by the fire in swarms on winter nights, in the little ca e which he ha! hollowe! in the groun! an! thatche! with turf" Ben tol! soon how the snakes obeye! himE how two especially huge ones use! to lie twine! about his legsE till after many years, annoye! by their importunity, he turne! them all gently out of !oors, with solemn a!jurations ne er to return, an! they, of course, obeye!" His austerities knew no boun!s" He li e! on roots an! berries, flowers an! lea esE an! when the goo! folk foun! him out, an! put gifts of foo! near his cell, he carrie! them up to the crags abo e, an!, offering them solemnly up to the Go! who fee!s the ra ens when they call on him, left them there for the wil! bir!s" He watche!, faste!, an! scourge! himself, an! wore always a hair shirt an! an iron cuirass" He sat, night after night, e en in mi!>winter, in the col! (ear, the waters of which ha! hollowe! out a rock near by into a natural bath, an! afterwar!s in a barrel sunk in the floor of a little chapel of wattle, which he built an! !e!icate! to the blesse! *irgin Bary" He tille! a scrap of groun!, an! ate the grain from it, mingle! with ashes" He kept his foo! till it was !ecaye! before he taste! itE an! le! a life the recor!s of which fill the rea!er with astonishment, not only at the manGs iron strength of will, but at the iron strength of the constitution which coul! support such har!ships, in such a climate, for a single year" 3 strong an! healthy man must Go!ric ha e been, to ju!ge from the accounts Ithere are two, both written by eye>witnessesK of his personal appearance>>a man of great brea!th of chest an! strength of armE black>haire!, hook>nose!, !eep>browe!, with flashing grey eyesE altogether a personable an! able man, who might ha e !one much work an! ma!e his way in many lan!s" But what his former life ha! been he woul! not tell" Bother>wit he ha! in plenty, an! showe! insight into men an! things which the monks of #urham were rea!y enough to call the spirit of prophecy" 3fter awhile it was whispere! that he wrought miraculous cures2 that e en a bit of the brea! which he was wont to eat ha! heale! a sick womanE that he fought with !aemons in isible shapeE that he ha! seen Ijust as one of the ol! Egyptian hermits ha! seenK a little black boy running about between two monks who ha! Fuarrelle! an! come to har! blows an! blee!ing faces because one of them ha! ma!e mistakes in the e ening ser ice2 an!, in short, there were attribute! to him, !uring his lifetime, an! by those who knew him well, a host of won!ers which woul! be startling an! important were they not e+actly the same as those which appear in the life of e ery hermit since -t" 3ntony" %t is impossible to rea! the pages of ,eginal! of #urham Ifor he, the biographer of -t" Cuthbert, is also the biographer of -t" Go!ricK without feeling how !ifficult it is to obtain anything like the truth, e en from eye> witnesses, if only men are Ias they were in those !aysK in a state

of religious e+citement, at a perio! of spiritual re i als" The ignorant populace were rea!y to belie e, an! to report, anything of the )akeer of )inchale" The monks of #urham were gla! enough to ha e a won!er>working man belonging to themE for ,alph )lambar!, in honour of Go!ric, ha! ma!e o er to them the hermitage of )inchale, with its fiel!s an! fisheries" The la! who, in after years, waite! on the hermit, woul! ha e been rea!y enough to testify that his master saw !aemons an! other spiritual beingsE for he began to see them on his own accountE L:.4M fell asleep in the forest coming home from #urham with some bottlesE was le! in a ision by -t" @ohn the Baptist to the top of a hill, an! shown by him won!ers unspeakableE saw, on another occasion, a !aemon in -t" Go!ricGs cell, hung all o er with bottles of !ifferent liFuors, offering them to the saint, who ba!e the la! !ri e him out of the little chapel, with a holy water sprinkle, but not go outsi!e it himself" But the la!, in the fury of successful pursuit, o ersteppe! the threshol!E whereon the !aemon, turning in self>!efence, threw a single !rop of one of his liFuors into the la!Gs mouth, an! anishe! with a laugh of scorn" The boyGs face an! throat swelle! horribly for three !aysE an! he took care thenceforth to obey the holy man more strictly2 a story which % ha e repeate!, like the one before it, only to show the real worth of the e i!ence on which ,eginal! has compose! his book" 3ilre!, 3bbot of ,ie au+ Ifor ,eginal!Gs book, though !e!icate! to Hugh Pu!sey, his bishop, was prompte! by 3ilre!K was capable Ias his horrible story of the nun of (atton pro esK of belie ing anything an! e erything which fell in with his fanatical, though pious an! gentle, temper" 3n! here a few wor!s must be sai! to persons with whose !ifficulties % !eeply sympathise, but from whose conclusions % !iffer utterly2 those, namely, who say that if we reject the miracles of these saintsG li es, we must reject also the miracles of the Aew Testament" The answer is, as % belie e, that the 3postles an! E angelists were sane men2 men in their right min!s, wise, calmE con!ucting themsel es Isa e in the matter of committing sinsK like other human beings, as befitte! the !isciples of that -on of Ban who came eating an! !rinking, an! was therefore calle! by the ascetics of his time a gluttonous man, an! a wine>bibber2 whereas these monks were not Ias % ha e sai! elsewhereK in their right min!s at all" This is, or ought to be, patent to any one who will compare the style of the 3postles an! E angelists with that of the monkish hagiologists" The calm, the simplicity, the bre ity, the true gran!eur of the former is sufficient e i!ence of their healthy> min!e!ness an! their trustworthiness" The affectation, the self> consciousness, the bombast, the false gran!eur of the latter is sufficient e i!ence that they are neither healthy>min!e! or trustworthy" <et stu!ents compare any passage of -t" <uke or -t" @ohn, howe er surprising the miracle which it relates, with -t" @eromeGs life of Paul the )irst Hermit, or with that famous letter of his to Eustochium, which Ialthough historically importantK is unfit for the eyes of pure>min!e! rea!ers an! !oes not appear in this olumeE an! let them ju!ge for themsel es" <et them compare, again, the opening sentences of the )our Gospels, or of the 3cts of the 3postles, with the wor!s with which ,eginal! begins this life of -t" Go!ric" $By the touch of the Holy -piritGs finger the chor! of the harmonic human heart resoun!s melo!iously" )or when the ein of the heart is touche! by the grace of the Holy -pirit, forthwith, by the permirific sweetness of the harmony, an e+cee!ing operation of sacre! irtue is percei e! more manifestly to spring forth" (ith

this sweetness of spirit, Go!ric, the man of Go!, was fille! from the ery time of his boyhoo!, an! grew famous for many a!mirable works of holy work IsicK, because the harmonic teaching of the Holy -pirit fire! the secrets of his ery bosom with a won!rous contact of spiritual grace2$>>an! let them say, after the comparison, if the !ifference between the two styles is not that which e+ists between one of Go!Gs lilies, fresh from the fiel!, an! a taw!ry bunch of artificial flowersJ But to return" Go!ric himself took part in the history of his own miracles an! life" %t may be that he so o erworke! his brain that he belie e! that he was isite! by -t" Peter, an! taught a hymn by the blesse! *irgin Bary, an! that he ha! taken part in a hun!re! other pro!igiesE but the Prologue to the Harleian manuscript Iwhich the learne! E!itor, Br" -te enson, belie es to be an early e!ition of ,eginal!Gs own compositionK confesses that ,eginal!, compelle! by 3ilre! of ,ie au+, trie! in ain for a long while to get the hermitGs story from him" $&ou wish to write my lifeJ$ he sai!" $Know then that Go!ricGs life is such as this2>>Go!ric, at first a gross rustic, an unclean li er, an usurer, a cheat, a perjurer, a flatterer, a wan!erer, pilfering an! gree!yE now a !ea! flea, a !ecaye! !og, a ile worm, not a hermit, but a hypocriteE not a solitary, but a ga!>about in min!E a !e ourer of alms, !ainty o er goo! things, gree!y an! negligent, laHy an! snoring, ambitious an! pro!igal, one who is not worthy to ser e others, an! yet e ery !ay beats an! scol!s those who ser e him2 this, an! worse than this, you may write of Go!ric"$ $Then he was silent as one in!ignant,$ says ,eginal!, $an! % went off in some confusion,$ an! the gran! ol! man was left to himself an! to his Go!" The ecclesiastical Boswell !are! not mention the subject again to his hero for se eral years, though he came after from #urham to isit him, an! celebrate mass for him in his little chapel" 3fter some years, howe er, he approache! the matter againE an! whether a par!onable anity ha! crept o er Go!ric, or whether he ha! begun at last to belie e in his miracles, or whether the ol! man ha! that upon his min! of which he longe! to unburthen himself, he began to answer Fuestions, an! ,eginal! !elighte! to listen an! note !own till he ha! finishe!, he says, that book of his life an! miraclesE L:.NM an! after a while brought it to the saint, an! falling on his knees, begge! him to bless, in the name of Go!, an! for the benefit of the faithful, the !ee!s of a certain religious man, who ha! suffere! much for Go! in this life which he I,eginal!K ha! compose! accurately" The ol! man percei e! that he himself was the subject, blesse! the book with solemn wor!s Iwhat was written therein he !oes not seem to ha e rea!K, an! ba!e ,eginal! conceal it till his !eath, warning him that a time woul! come when he shoul! suffer rough an! bitter things on account of that book, from those who en ie! him" That prophecy, says ,eginal!, came to passE but how, or why, he !oes not tell" There may ha e been, among those shrew! Aorthumbrian hea!s, e en then, incre!ulous men, who use! their common sense" But the story which Go!ric tol! was wil! an! beautifulE an! though we must not !epen! too much on the accuracy of the ol! manGs recollections, or on the honesty of ,eginal!Gs report, who woul! naturally omit all inci!ents which ma!e against his heroGs perfection, it is worth listening to, as a i i! sketch of the !oings of a real human being, in that misty !istance of the Early Bi!!le 3ge"

He was born, he sai!, at (alpole, in Aorfolk, on the ol! ,oman sea> bank, between the (ash an! the !eep )ens" His fatherGs name was 3Eilwar!E his motherGs, 3E!wen>>$the Keeper of Blesse!ness,$ an! $the )rien! of Blesse!ness,$ as ,eginal! translates them>>poor an! pious folkE an!, being a sharp boy, he !i! not take to fiel!>work, but preferre! wan!ering the fens as a pe!lar, first roun! the illages, then, as he grew ol!er, to castles an! to towns, buying an! selling>>what, ,eginal! !oes not tell us2 but we shoul! be gla! to know" ?ne !ay he ha! a great !eli erance, which ,eginal! thinks a miracle" (an!ering along the great ti!e>flats near -pal!ing an! the ol! (ell> stream, in search of waifs, an! strays, of wreck or eatables, he saw three porpoises stran!e! far out upon the banks" Two were ali e, an! the boy took pity on them Iso he sai!K an! let them be2 but one was !ea!, an! off it Iin those !ays poor folks ate anythingK he cut as much flesh an! blubber as he coul! carry, an! toile! back towar!s the high>ti!e mark" But whether he lost his way among the banks, or whether he !elaye! too long, the ti!e came in on him up to his knees, his waist, his chin, an! at last, at times, o er his hea!" The boy ma!e the sign of the cross Ias all men in !anger !i! thenK an! struggle! on aliantly a full mile through the sea, like a bra e la! ne er loosening his hol! of his precious porpoise>meat till he reache! the shore at the ery spot from which he ha! set out" 3s he grew, his pe!lar journeys became longer" ,epeating to himself, as he walke!, the Cree!s an! the <or!Gs Prayer>>his only lore>>he walke! for four years through <in!seyE then went to -t" 3n!rewGs in -cotlan!E after that, for the first time, to ,ome" Then the lo e of a wan!ering sea life came on him, an! he saile! with his wares roun! the east coastsE not merely as a pe!lar, but as a sailor himself, he went to #enmark an! to )lan!ers, buying an! selling, till he owne! Iin what port we are not tol!, but probably in <ynn or (isbeachK half one merchant ship an! the Fuarter of another" 3 crafty steersman he was, a wise weather>prophet, a shipman stout in bo!y an! in heart, probably such a one as Chaucer tells us of :65 years after2>> $>>3 !agger hanging by a las ha!!e hee 3bout his nekke un!er his arm a!oun" The hote summer ha!!e ma!e his hewe al broun" 3n! certainly he was a goo! felawE )ull many a !raught of wine he ha!!e !raw, )rom Bur!eau+ war!, while that the chapmen slepe, ?f nice conscience took he no kepe" %f that he fought, an! ha!!e the higher han!, By water he sent hem home to e ery lan!" But of his craft to recken wel his ti!es, His stremes an! his stran!es him besi!es, His herberwe, his mone, an! his lo!e manage, There was none swiche, from Hull unto Carthage" Har!y he was, an! wise, % un!ertake2 (ith many a tempest ha!!e his ber! be shake" He knew wel alle the ha ens, as they were, )rom Gotlan! to the Cape !e )inisterre, 3n! e ery creke in Bretagne an! in -pain"$ But gra!ually there grew on the stout merchantman the thought that

there was something more to be !one in the worl! than making money" He became a pious man after the fashion of those !ays" He worshippe! at the famous shrine of -t" 3n!rew" He worshippe!, too, at -t" CuthbertGs hermitage at )arne, an! there, he sai! afterwar!s, he longe! for the first time for the rest an! solitu!e of the hermitage" He ha! been si+teen years a seaman now, with a seamanGs temptations>>it may be Ias he tol! ,eginal! plainlyK with some of a seamanGs ices" He may ha e !one things which lay hea y on his conscience" But it was getting time to think about his soul" He took the cross, an! went off to @erusalem, as many a man !i! then, un!er !ifficulties incre!ible, !ying, too often, on the way" But Go!ric not only got safe thither, but went out of his way home by -pain to isit the sanctuary of -t" @ames of Compostella, a see which Pope Cali+tus %%" ha! just raise! to metropolitan !ignity" Then he appears as stewar! to a rich man in the )ens, whose sons an! young retainers, after the lawless fashion of those 3nglo>Aorman times, ro!e out into the country roun! to steal the peasantsG sheep an! cattle, skin them on the spot, an! pass them off to the master of the house as enison taken in hunting" They ate an! !rank, roystere! an! riote!, like most other young AormansE an! e+e! the stai! soul of Go!ric, whose nose tol! him plainly enough, whene er he entere! the kitchen, that what was roasting ha! ne er come off a !eer" %n ain he proteste! an! warne! them, getting only insults for his pains" 3t last he tol! his lor!" The lor!, as was to be e+pecte!, care! nought about the matter" <et the la!s rob the English illains2 for what other en! ha! their gran!fathers conFuere! the lan!J Go!ric punishe! himself, as he coul! not punish them, for the unwilling share which he ha! ha! in the wrong" %t may be that he, too, ha! eaten of that stolen foo!" -o away he went into )rance, an! !own the ,hone, on pilgrimage to the hermitage of -t" Giles, the patron saint of the wil! !eerE an! then on to ,ome a secon! time, an! back to his poor parents in the )ens" 3n! now follows a strange an! beautiful story" 3ll lo e of seafaring an! merchan!ise ha! left the !eep>hearte! sailor" The hea enly an! the eternal, the sal ation of his sinful soul, ha! become all in all to himE an! yet he coul! not rest in the little !reary illage on the ,oman bank" He woul! go on pilgrimage again" Then his mother woul! go likewise, an! see -t" PeterGs church, an! the Pope, an! all the won!ers of ,ome, an! ha e her share in all the spiritual blessings which were to be obtaine! Iso men thought thenK at ,ome alone" -o off they set on footE an! when they came to for! or !itch, Go!ric carrie! his mother on his back, until they came to <on!on town" 3n! there 3E!wen took off her shoes, an! owe! out of !e otion to the holy apostles Peter an! Paul Iwho, so she thought, woul! be well please! at such an actK to walk barefoot to ,ome an! barefoot back again" Aow just as they went out of <on!on, on the #o er ,oa!, there met them in the way the lo eliest mai!en they ha! e er seen, an! aske! to bear them company in their pilgrimage" 3n! when they agree!, she walke! with them, sat with them, an! talke! with them with superhuman courtesy an! graceE an! when they turne! into an inn, she ministere! to them herself, an! washe! an! kisse! their feet, an! then lay !own with them to sleep, after the simple fashion of those !ays" But a holy awe of her, as of some saint an! go!!ess, fell on the wil! seafarerE an! he ne er, so he use! to a er, treate! her for a moment sa e as a sister" Ae er !i! either ask the other who they were, an! whence they cameE an! Go!ric reporte! Ibut this was long after the e entK that no one of the company of pilgrims coul! see

that fair mai!, sa e he an! his mother alone" -o they came safe to ,ome, an! back to <on!on townE an! when they were at the place outsi!e -outhwark, where the fair mai! ha! met them first, she aske! permission to lea e them, for she $must go to her own lan!, where she ha! a tabernacle of rest, an! !welt in the house of her Go!"$ 3n! then, bi!!ing them bless Go!, who ha! brought them safe o er the 3lps, an! across the sea, an! all along that weary roa!, she went on her way, an! they saw her no more" Then with this fair mysterious face clinging to his memory, an! it may be ne er lea ing it, Go!ric took his mother safe home, an! !eli ere! her to his father, an! ba!e them both after awhile farewell, an! wan!ere! across Englan! to Penrith, an! hung about the churches there, till some kinsmen of his recognise! him, an! ga e him a psalter Ihe must ha e taught himself to rea! upon his tra elsK, which he learnt by heart" Then, wan!ering e er in search of solitu!e, he went into the woo!s an! foun! a ca e, an! passe! his time therein in prayer, li ing on green herbs an! wil! honey, acorns an! crabsE an! when he went about to gather foo!, he fell !own on his knees e ery few yar!s an! sai! a prayer, an! rose an! went on" 3fter awhile he wan!ere! on again, until at (olsingham, in #urham, he met with another holy hermit, who ha! been a monk at #urham, li ing in a ca e in forests in which no man !are !well, so !i! they swarm with packs of wol esE an! there the two goo! men !welt together till the ol! hermit fell sick, an! was like to !ie" Go!ric nurse! him, an! sat by him, to watch for his last breath" )or the same longing ha! come o er him which came o er Barguerite !G3ngouleme when she sat by the !ying be! of her fa ourite mai! of honour>>to see if the spirit, when it left the bo!y, were isible, an! what kin! of thing it was2 whether, for instance, it was really like the little nake! babe which is seen in me!iae al illuminations flying out of the mouths of !ying men" But, worn out with watching, Go!ric coul! not keep from sleep" 3ll but !espairing of his !esire, he turne! to the !ying man, an! spoke, says ,eginal!, some such wor!s as these2>>$? spirit1 who art !iffuse! in that bo!y in the likeness of Go!, an! art still insi!e that breast, % a!jure thee by the Highest, that thou lea e not the prison of this thine habitation while % am o ercome by sleep, an! know not of it"$ 3n! so he fell asleep2 but when he woke, the ol! hermit lay motionless an! breathless" Poor Go!ric wept, calle! on the !ea! man, calle! on Go!E his simple heart was set on seeing this one thing" 3n!, behol!, he was console! in a won!rous fashion" )or about the thir! hour of the !ay the breath returne!" Go!ric hung o er him, watching his lips" Three hea y sighs he !rew, then a shu!!er, another sigh2 L:4:M an! then Iso Go!ric was belie e! to ha e sai! in after yearsK he saw the spirit flit" (hat it was like, he !i! not like to say, for the most ob ious reason>>that he saw nothing, an! was an honest man" 3 monk tease! him much to impart to him this great !isco ery, which seeme! to the simple untaught sailor a great spiritual mystery, an! which was, like some other me!iae al mysteries which were miscalle! spiritual Itransubstantiation abo e allK, altogether material an! gross imaginations" Go!ric answere! wisely enough, that $no man coul! percei e the substance of the spiritual soul"$ But the whether whether a saint monk insisting, an! gi ing him no rest, he answere!,>> he wishe! to answer a fool accor!ing to his folly, or he trie! to fancy Ias men will who are somewhat ain>>an! if was not ain, it was no fault of the monks who beset himK

that he ha! really seen something" He tol! how it was like a !ry, hot win! rolle! into a sphere, an! shining like the clearest glass, but that what it was really like no one coul! e+press" Thus much, at least, may be gathere! from the in ol e! bombast of ,eginal!" 3nother pilgrimage to the Holy -epulchre !i! Go!ric make before he went to the hermitage in Esk!ale, an! settle! finally at )inchale" 3n! there about the hills of @u!aea he foun!, says ,eginal!, hermits !welling in rock>ca es, as they ha! !welt since the time of -t" @erome" He washe! himself, an! his hair shirt an! little cross, in the sacre! waters of the @or!an, an! returne!, after incre!ible suffering, to become the saint of )inchale" His hermitage became, in !ue time, a stately priory, with its community of monks, who looke! up to the memory of their holy father Go!ric as to that of a !emigo!" The place is all ruinate nowE the memory of -t" Go!ric goneE an! not one in ten thousan!, perhaps, who isit those crumbling walls besi!e the rushing (ear, has hear! of the sailor>saint, an! his mother, an! that fair mai! who ten!e! them on their pilgrimage" Beanwhile there were hermits for many years in that same hermitage in Esk!ale, from which a Percy e+pelle! -t" Go!ric, possibly because he interfere! with the prior claim of some protege of their ownE for they ha!, a few years before Go!ricGs time, grante! that hermitage to the monks of (hitby, who were not likely to allow a stranger to establish himself on their groun!" 3bout that hermitage hung one of those stories so common in the Bi!!le 3ges, in which the hermit appears as the protector of the hunte! wil! beastE a story, too, which was probably authentic, as the curious custom which was sai! to perpetuate its memory laste! at least till the year .06:" % Fuote it at length from BurtonGs $Bonasticon Eboracense,$ p" 09, knowing no other authority" $%n the fifth year of the reign of King Henry %%" after the conFuest of Englan! by (illiam, !uke of Aorman!y, the <or! of =glebar!by, then calle! (illiam !e Bruce, an! the <or! of -neton, calle! ,alph !e Perci, with a gentleman an! a freehol!er calle! 3llatson, !i! on the .Nth !ay of ?ctober appoint to meet an! hunt the wil! boar, in a certain woo! or !esert place belonging to the abbot of the monastery of (hitbyE the placeGs name is Esk!ale>si!eE the abbotGs name was -e!man" Then these gentlemen being met, with their houn!s an! boar> sta es, in the place before>name!, an! there ha ing foun! a great wil! boar, the houn!s ran him well near about the chapel an! hermitage of Esk!ale>si!e, where was a monk of (hitby, who was a hermit" The boar being ery sore, an! ery hotly pursue!, an! !ea! run, took in at the chapel !oor, an! there !ie!2 whereupon the hermit shut the houn!s out of the chapel, an! kept himself within at his me!itations an! prayers, the houn!s stan!ing at bay without" The gentlemen in the thick of the woo!, being put behin! their game, followe! the cry of their houn!s, an! so came to the hermitage, calling on the hermit, who opene! the !oor an! came forth, an! within they foun! the boar lying !ea!, for which the gentlemen in ery great fury Ibecause their houn!s were put from their gameK !i! most iolently an! cruelly run at the hermit with their boar>sta es, whereby he !ie! soon after2 thereupon the gentlemen, percei ing an! knowing that they were in peril of !eath, took sanctuary at -carborough" But at that time the abbot, being in ery great fa our with King Henry, remo e! them out of the sanctuary, whereby they came in !anger of the law, an! not to be pri ilege!, but likely to

ha e the se erity of the law, which was !eath" But the hermit, being a holy an! !e out man, at the point of !eath sent for the abbot, an! !esire! him to sen! for the gentlemen who ha! woun!e! him2 the abbot so !oing, the gentlemen came, an! the hermit, being ery sick an! weak, sai! unto them, G% am sure to !ie of those woun!s you ha e gi en me"G The abbot answere!, GThey shall as surely !ie for the sameEG but the hermit answere!, GAot so, for % will freely forgi e them my !eath, if they will be contente! to be enjoine! this penance for the safeguar! of their souls"G The gentlemen being present, an! terrifie! with the fear of !eath, ba!e him enjoin what penance he woul!, so that he woul! but sa e their li es" Then sai! the hermit, G&ou an! yours shall hol! your lan!s of the 3bbot of (hitby an! his successors in this manner2 That upon 3scension E e, you or some of you shall come to the woo!s of the -trag Hea!s, which is in Esk!ale>si!e, the same !ay at sun>rising, an! there shall the abbotGs officer blow his horn, to the intent that you may know how to fin! himE an! he shall !eli er unto you, (illiam !e Bruce, ten stakes, ele en strut>towers, an! ele en yethers, to be cut by you or some for you, with a knife of one penny priceE an! you, ,alph !e Perci, shall take twenty an! one of each sort, to be cut in the same mannerE an! you, 3llatson, shall take nine of each sort, to be cut as aforesai!, an! to be taken on your backs, an! carrie! to the town of (hitby, an! to be there before nine of the clock the same !ay before>mentione!E at the same hour of nine of the clock Iif it be full seaK your labour or ser ice shall ceaseE but if it be not full sea, each of you shall set your stakes at the brim, each stake one yar! from the other, an! so yether them on each si!e of your yethers, an! so stake on each si!e with your strut>towers, that they may stan! three ti!es without remo ing by the force thereof2 each of you shall !o, make, an! e+ecute the sai! ser ice at that ery hour e ery year, e+cept it shall be full sea at that hour2 but when it shall so fall out, this ser ice shall cease" &ou shall faithfully !o this in remembrance that you !i! most cruelly slay meE an! that you may the better call to Go! for mercy, repent unfeigne!ly for your sins, an! !o goo! works, the officers of Esk!ale>si!e shall blow, ?ut on you, out on you, out on you, for this heinous crime" %f you or your successors shall refuse this ser ice, so long as it shall not be full sea at the aforesai! hour, you or yours shall forfeit your lan!s to the 3bbot of (hitby, or his successors" This % intreat, an! earnestly beg that you may ha e li es an! goo!s preser e! for this ser iceE an! % reFuest of you to promise by your parts in hea en that it shall be !one by you an! your successors, as it is aforesai! reFueste!, an! % will confirm it by the faith of an honest man"G Then the hermit sai!2 GBy soul longeth for the <or!, an! % !o as freely forgi e these men my !eath as Christ forga e the thie es upon the crossEG an! in the presence of the abbot an! the rest he sai!, moreo er, these wor!s2 G%nto thy han!s, ? <or!, % commen! my spirit, for from the bon!s of !eath Thou hast re!eeme! me, ? <or! of truth" 3men"G -o he yiel!e! up the ghost the eighth !ay of #ecember, 3"#" ..N5, upon whose soul Go! ha e mercy" 3men"$

3ACH?,%TE-, -T,%CT<& -? C3<<E#

The fertile an! peaceable lowlan!s of Englan!, as % ha e just sai!, offere! few spots sufficiently wil! an! lonely for the habitation of a hermitE those, therefore, who wishe! to retire from the worl! into

a more strict an! solitary life than that which the monastery affor!e! were in the habit of immuring themsel es, as anchorites, or in ol! English $3nkers,$ in little cells of stone, built usually against the wall of a church" There is nothing new un!er the sunE an! similar anchorites might ha e been seen in Egypt, 655 years before the time of -t" 3ntony, immure! in cells in the temples of %sis or -erapis" %t is only recently that antiFuaries ha e !isco ere! how common this practice was in Englan!, an! how freFuently the traces of these cells are to be foun! about our parish churches" They were so common in the #iocese of <incoln in the thirteenth century, that in .4:: the arch!eacon is or!ere! to inFuire whether any 3nchoritesG cells ha! been built without the BishopGs lea eE an! in many of our parish churches may be seen, either on the north or the south si!e of the chancel, a narrow slit in the wall, or one of the lights of a win!ow prolonge! !ownwar!s, the prolongation, if not now walle! up, being close! with a shutter" Through these apertures the $incluse,$ or anker, watche! the celebration of mass, an! partook of the Holy Communion" -imilar cells were to be foun! in %relan!, at least in the !iocese of ?ssoryE an! !oubtless in -cotlan! also" #ucange, in his Glossary, on the wor! $inclusi,$ lays !own rules for the siHe of the ankerGs cell, which must be twel e feet sFuare, with three win!ows, one opening into the church, one for taking in his foo!, an! one for lightE an! the $-alisbury Banual$ as well as the $Pontifical$ of <acy, bishop of E+eter, in the first half of the fifteenth century, contains a regular $ser ice$ for the walling in of an anchorite" L::5M There e+ists too a most singular an! painful book, well known to antiFuaries, but to them alone, $The 3ncren ,iwle,$ a!!resse! to three young la!ies who ha! immure! themsel es Iseemingly about the beginning of the thirteenth centuryK at Kingston Tarrant, in #orsetshire" )or women as well as men entere! these li ing tombsE an! there spent their !ays in !irt an! star ation, an! such prayer an! me!itation !oubtless as the stupifie! an! worn>out intellect coul! compassE their only recreation being the gossip of the neighbouring women, who came to peep in through the little win!ow>>a recreation in which Iif we are to belie e the author of $The 3ncren ,iwle$K they were tempte! to in!ulge only too freelyE till the win!ow of the recluseGs cell, he says, became what the smithGs forge or the alehouse has become since>>the place where all the gossip an! scan!al of the illage passe! from one ear to another" But we must not belie e such scan!als of all" ?nly too much in earnest must those se en young mai!ens ha e been, whom -t" Gilbert of -empringham persua!e! to immure themsel es, as a sacrifice acceptable to Go!, in a !en along the north wall of his churchE or that -t" Hutta, or Huetta, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, who after ministering to lepers, an! longing an! e en trying to become a leper herself, immure! herself for life in a cell against the church of Huy near <iege" )earful must ha e been the fate of these incluses if any e il ha! befallen the buil!ing of which Ione may sayK they ha! become a part" Bore than one in the stormy Bi!!le 3ge may ha e suffere! the fate of the poor women immure! besi!e -t" BaryGs church at Bantes, who, when town an! church were burnt by (illiam the ConFueror, unable to escape Ior, accor!ing to (illiam of Balmesbury, thinking it unlawful to Fuit their cells e en in that e+tremityK, perishe! in the flamesE an! so consummate! once an! for all their long martyr!om" How long the practice of the hermit life was common in these islan!s

is more than my learning enables me to say" Hermits seem, from the ol! Chartularies, L::.M to ha e been not unfreFuent in -cotlan! an! the Aorth of Englan! !uring the whole Bi!!le 3ge" (e ha e seen that they were freFuent in the times of Balcolm Canmore an! the ol! Celtic ChurchE an! the <atin Church, which was intro!uce! by -t" Bargaret, seems to ha e kept up the fashion" %n the mi!!le of the thirteenth century, #a i! !e Haigh con eye! to the monks of Cupar the hermitage which Gilmichael the Hermit once hel!, with three acres of lan!" %n .:4/ the Con ent of #urham ma!e a grant of a hermitage to ,oger Eller at Aorham on the Twee!, in or!er that he might ha e a $fit place to fight with the ol! enemy an! bewail his sins, apart from the turmoil of men"$ %n .CC6 @ames the -econ!, king of -cots, grante! to @ohn -mith the hermitage in the forest of Kilgur, $which formerly belonge! in heritage to Hugh Cominch the Hermit, an! was resigne! by him, with the croft an! the green belonging to it, an! three acres of arable lan!"$ % ha e Fuote! these few instances, to show how long the custom lingere!E an! !oubtless hermits were to be foun! in the remoter parts of these realms when the su!!en tempest of the ,eformation swept away alike the palace of the rich abbot an! the cell of the poor recluse, an! e+terminate! throughout Englan! the ascetic life" The two last hermits whom % ha e come across in history are both figures which e+emplify ery well those times of corruption an! of change" 3t <oretto Inot in %taly, but in Busselburgh, near E!inburghK there li e! a hermit who preten!e! to work miracles, an! who it seems ha! charge of some image of $?ur <a!y of <oretto"$ The scan!als which ensue! from the isits of young folks to this hermit rouse! the wrath of that terrible scourge of monks, -ir #a i! <in!say of the Bount2 yet as late as .6:N, @ames the )ifth of -cotlan! ma!e a pilgrimage from -tirling to the shrine, in or!er to procure a propitious passage to )rance in search of a wife" But in .6C:, <or! Hertfor!, !uring his !estructi e oyage to the )orth, !estroye!, with other objects of greater conseFuence, the chapel of the $<a!y of <orett,$ which was not likely in those !ays to be rebuiltE an! so the hermit of Busselburgh anishes from history" 3 few years before, in .6:0, says Br" )rou!e, L:::M while the harbours, piers, an! fortresses were rising in #o er, $an ancient hermit tottere! night after night from his cell to a chapel on the cliff, an! the tapers on the altar before which he knelt in his lonely orisons ma!e a familiar beacon far o er the rolling waters" The men of the rising worl! care! little for the sentiment of the past" The anchorite was tol! sternly by the workmen that his light was a signal to the KingGs enemies$ Ia -panish in asion from )lan!ers was e+pecte!K, $an! must burn no moreE an!, when it was ne+t seen, three of them waylai! the ol! man on his way home, threw him !own an! beat him cruelly"$ -o en!e!, in an un!ignifie! way, as worn>out institutions are wont to en!, the hermit life in the British %sles" (ill it e er reappearJ (ho can tellJ To an age of lu+ury an! unbelief has succee!e!, more than once in history, an age of remorse an! superstition" Gay gentlemen an! gay la!ies may renounce the worl!, as they !i! in the time of -t @erome, when the worl! is rea!y to renounce them" (e ha e alrea!y our nunneries, our monasteries, of more cree!s than oneE an! the mountains of Kerry, or the pine forests of the Highlan!s, may some !ay once more hol! hermits, persua!ing themsel es to belie e, an! at last succee!ing in belie ing, the teaching of -t" 3ntony, instea! of that of our <or! @esus Christ, an! of that )ather of the spirits of all flesh, who

ma!e lo e, an! marriage, an! little chil!ren, sunshine an! flowers, the wings of butterflies an! the song of bir!sE who rejoices in his own works, an! bi!s all who truly re erence him rejoice in them with him" The fancy may seem impossible" %t is not more impossible than many religious phenomena seeme! forty years ago, which are now no fancies, but powerful facts" The following books shoul! be consulte! by those who wish to follow out this curious subject in !etail2>> The $*itae Patrum Eremiticorum"$ The $3cta -anctorum"$ The Bollan!ists are, of course, almost e+hausti e of any subject on which they treat" But as they are !ifficult to fin!, sa e in a few public libraries, the $3cta -anctorum$ of -urius, or of 3loysius <ipommasius, may be profitably consulte!" ButlerGs $<i es of the -aints$ is a book common enough, but of no great alue" B" !e BontalembertGs $Boines !G?cci!ent,$ an! ?HanamGs $Etu!es GermaniFues,$ may be rea! with much profit" #r" ,ee esG e!ition of 3!amnanGs $<ife of -t" Columba,$ publishe! by the %rish 3rchaeological an! Celtic -ociety, is a treasury of learning, which nee!s no praise of mine" The li es of -t" Cuthbert an! -t" Go!ric may be foun! among the publications of the -urtees -ociety"

)ootnotes2 L.4M 3bout 3"#" :N9" ++ iii" -ee the !etails in 3mmianus Barcellinus, lib"

L.6M %n the Celtic %rish Church, there seems to ha e been no other pattern" The hermits who became abbots, with their monks, were the only teachers of the people>>one ha! almost sai!, the only Christians" (hence, as early as the si+th century, if not the fifth, they, an! their !isciples of %ona an! -cotlan!, !eri e! their peculiar tonsure, their use of bells, their Eastern mo!e of keeping the Paschal feast, an! other peculiarities, seemingly without the inter ention of ,ome, is a mystery still unsol e!" L.0aM 3 book which, from its bearing on present problems, well !eser es translation" L.0bM L4:M L4CM $*itae Patrum"$ Publishe! at 3ntwerp, .N49"

He is a!!ressing our <or!" $3gentes in rebus"$ ?n the EmperorGs staffJ

L40M -t" 3ugustine says, that PotitianusGs a! enture at Tre es happene! $% know not when"$ His own con ersation with Potitianus must ha e happene! about 3"#" :96, for he was baptiHe! 3pril 46, 3"#" :90" He !oes not mention the name of PotitianusGs emperor2 but as Gratian was 3ugustus from 3"#" :N0 to 3"#" :06, an! actual Emperor of the (est till 3"#" :9:, an! as Tre es was his usual resi!ence, he is most probably the person meant2 but if not, then

his father *alentinian" L4/M -ee the e+cellent article on Gratian in -mithGs #ictionary, by Br" Beans" L:5M % cannot e+plain this fact2 eyes" L:4M but % ha e seen it with my own

% use throughout the te+t publishe! by Heschelius, in .N.."

L::M He is sai! to ha e been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Bi!!le Egypt, 3"#" 46." L:CM -eemingly the Greek language an! literature"

L:6M % ha e thought it more honest to translate 7Greek te+t; by $training,$ which is now, as then, its true eFui alentE being a metaphor !rawn from the Greek games by -t" Paul, . Tim" i " 9" LC.M % gi e this passage as it stan!s in the Greek ersion" %n the <atin, attribute! to E agrius, it is e en more e+tra agant an! rhetorical" LC4M -urely the imagery painte! on the inner walls of Egyptian tombs, an! probably belie e! by 3ntony an! his compeers to be connecte! with !e il>worship, e+plain these isions" %n the $(or!s of the El!ers$ a monk complains of being trouble! with $pictures, ol! an! new"$ Probably, again, the pain which 3ntony felt was the agony of a fe erE an! the isions which he saw, its !elirium" LCCM Here is an instance of the original use of the wor! $monastery,$ iH" a cell in which a single person !welt" LC6M 3n allusion to the heathen mysteries"

LC/M 3"#" :.." Galerius *alerius Ba+iminus Ihis real name was #aHaK ha! been a shepher!>la! in %llyria, like his uncle Galerius *alerius Ba+imianusE an! rose, like him, through the arious gra!es of the army to be co>Emperor of ,ome, o er -yria, Egypt, an! 3sia BinorE a furious persecutor of the Christians, an! a brutal an! profligate tyrant" -uch were the $kings of the worl!$ from whom those ol! monks fle!" L64aM The lonely allu ial flats at the mouths of the Aile" the cliffs, besi!e the sea,$ as one !escribes them" $Below

L64bM Aow the monastery of #eir 3ntonios, o er the (a!y el 3rabah, between the Aile an! the ,e! -ea, where 3ntonyGs monks en!ure to this !ay" LN5M This most famous monastery, i"e" collection of monksG cells, in Egypt is situate forty miles from 3le+an!ria, on a hill where nitre was gathere!" The hospitality an! irtue of its inmates are much praise! by ,uffinus an! Palla!ius" They were, ne ertheless, the chief agents in the fanatical mur!er of Hypatia" LN6M %t appears from this an! many other passages, that e+tempore prayer was usual among these monks, as it was afterwar!s among the Puritans Iwho ha e copie! them in so many other thingsK, whene er a go!ly man isite! them"

LNNaM Beletius, bishop of <ycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism calling itself the $Church of the Bartyrs,$ which refuse! to communicate with the rest of the Eastern Church" -ee -mithGs $#ictionary,$ on the wor! $Beletius"$ LNNbM 3rius Iwhose most famous an! successful opponent was 3thanasius, the writer of this biographyK maintaine! that the -on of Go! was not co>eFual an! co>eternal with the )ather, but create! by Him out of nothing, an! before the worl!" His opinions were con!emne! in the famous Council of Aicaea, 3"#" :46" LN0M %f -t" 3ntony coul! use so e+treme an argument against the 3rians, what woul! he ha e sai! to the Bariolatry which sprang up after his !eathJ LN9aM %"e" those who were still heathens"

LN9bM 7Greek te+t;" The Christian priest is always calle! in this work simply 7Greek te+t;, or el!er" L04aM Probably that of 3"#" :C., when Gregory of Cappa!ocia, nominate! by the 3rian Bishops, who ha! assemble! at the Council of 3ntioch, e+pelle! 3thanasius from the see of 3le+an!ria, an! great iolence was committe! by his followers an! by Philagrius the Prefect" 3thanasius meanwhile fle! to ,ome" L04bM %"e" celebrate! there their own Communion"

L00M E i!ently the primae al custom of embalming the !ea!, an! keeping mummies in the house, still lingere! among the Egyptians" L.59M These soun!s, like those which -t" Guthlac hear! in the English fens, are plainly those of wil!>fowl" L..6M The Brucheion, with its palaces an! museum, the resi!ence of the kings an! philosophers of Egypt, ha! been !estroye! is the !ays of Clau!ius an! *alerian, !uring the senseless ci il wars which !e astate! 3le+an!ria for twel e yearsE an! monks ha! probably taken up their abo!e in the ruins" %t was in this Fuarter, at the beginning of the ne+t century, that Hypatia was mur!ere! by the monks" L..NM Probably the Aorthern, or <esser ?asis, ?uah el Baharieh, about eighty miles west of the Aile" L..0aM @erome Iwho saile! that sea se eral timesK uses the wor! here, as it is use! in 3cts ++ ii" 40, for the sea about Balta, $!ri en up an! !own in 3!ria"$ L..0bM L..9M L../aM The southern point of -icily, now Cape Passaro" %n the Borea, near the mo!ern Aa arino" 3t the mouth of the Bay of Cattaro"

L../bM This story>>whate er belief we may gi e to its !etails>>is one of many which make it tolerably certain that a large snake IPythonK still lingere! in Eastern Europe" Huge tame snakes were kept as sacre! by the Bace!onian womenE an! one of them Iaccor!ing to <ucianK Peregrinus Proteus, the Cagliostro of his time, fitte! with a linen mask, an! ma!e it personate the go! 3Esculapius" %n

the $Historia <ausiaca,$ cap" lii" is an account by an eye>witness of a large snake in the Thebai!, whose track was $as if a beam ha! been !ragge! along the san!"$ %t terrifies the -yrian monks2 but the Egyptian monk sets to work to kill it, saying that he ha! seen much larger>>e en up to fifteen cubits" L.4.M Aow Capo -t" 3ngelo an! the islan! of Cerigo, at the southern point of Greece" L.4:aM L.4:bM -ee p" 64" 73roun! footnote 64a in the te+t>>#P";

Probably !e!icate! to the Paphian *enus"

L.:5M The li es of these two hermits an! that of -t" Cuthbert will be gi en in a future number" L.:.M -ihor, the black ri er, was the ancient name of the Aile, !eri e! from the !ark hue of its waters" L.6/M L.N5M L.N:M L45:M 3mmianus Barcellinus, Book ++ " cap" /" By #r" Burgess" History of Christianity, 3n authentic fact" ol" iii" p" .5/"

L45CM %f any one !oubts this, let him try the game calle! $,ussian scan!al,$ where a story, passe! secretly from mouth to mouth, en!s utterly transforme!, the original point being lost, a new point substitute!, original names an! facts omitte!, an! utterly new ones inserte!, Sc" Sc"E an e+periment which is lu!icrous, or sa!!ening, accor!ing to the temper of the e+perimenter" L45/M <es Boines !G?cci!ent, ol" ii" pp" ::4>CN0"

L4.5M B" <a Bor!erie, $#iscours sur les -aints BretonsE$ a work which % ha e unfortunately not been able to consult" L4.4aM L4.4bM L4.4cM L4.4!M L4.4eM *itae Patrum, p" 06:" %bi!" p" 9/:" %bi!" p" 6:/" %bi!" p" 6C5" %bi!" p" 6:4"

L44CM %t has been han!e! !own, in most crabbe! <atin, by his !isciple, EugippiusE it may be rea! at length in PeH, -criptores 3ustriacarum ,erum" L4:9M L4C6M -criptores 3ustriacarum ,erum" Haeften, Fuote! by Bontalembert, ol" ii" p" 44, in note"

L46NM #r" ,ee es supposes these to ha e been $crustacea2$ but their stinging an! clinging pro e them surely to ha e been jelly>fish>> me!usae"

L460M % ha e followe! the <atin prose ersion of it, which B" 3chille @ubinal attributes to the ele enth century" Here an! there % ha e taken the liberty of using the )rench prose ersion, which he attributes to the latter part of the twelfth" % ha e often con!ense! the story, where it was proli+ or repeate! itself2 but % ha e trie! to follow faithfully both matter an! style, an! to gi e, wor! for wor!, as nearly as % coul!, any notable passages" Those who wish to know more of -t" Bren!an shoul! consult the learne! brochure of B" @ubinal, $<a <egen!e <atine !e -t" Bran!aines,$ an! the two English ersions of the <egen!, e!ite! by Br" Thomas (right for the Percy -ociety, ol" +i " ?ne is in erse, an! of the earlier part of the fourteenth century, an! spirite! enough2 the other, a prose ersion, was printe! by (ynkyn !e (or!e, in his e!ition of the $Gol!en <egen!E$ .640" L4N5aM %n the Barony of <ongfor!, County Galway"

L4N5bM :,555, like :55, seems to be, % am informe!, only an %rish e+pression for any large number" L4N/M L405M -ome !im legen! concerning icebergs, an! ca es therein" Probably from reports of the olcanic coast of %celan!"

L404M This part of the legen! has been change! an! humaniHe! as time ran on" %n the <atin an! )rench ersions it has little or no point or moral" %n the English, @u!as accounts for the presence of the cloth thus2>> $Here % may see what it is to gi e other menGs Igoo!sK with harm" 3s will many rich men with unright all !ay take, ?f poor men here an! there, an! almisse IalmsK sithhe Iafterwar!sK make"$ )or the tongs an! the stone he accounts by saying that, as he use! them for $goo! en!s, each thing shoul! surely fin! him which he !i! for Go!Gs lo e"$ But in $the prose ersion of (ynkyn !e (or!e, the tongs ha e been change! into $o+>tongues,$ $which % ga e some tyme to two preestes to praye for me" % bought them with myne owne money, an! therefore they ease me, bycause the fysshes of the sea gnaw on them, an! spare me"$ This latter story of the o+>tongues has been followe! by Br" -ebastian E ans, in his poem on -t" Bren!an" Both he an! Br" Batthew 3rnol! ha e ren!ere! the moral of the English ersion beautifully" L40CM Copie!, surely, from the life of Paul the first hermit"

ery

L49:M The famous Cathach, now in the museum of the ,oyal %rish 3ca!emy, was long popularly belie e! to be the ery Psalter in Fuestion" 3s a relic of -t" Columba it was carrie! to battle by the ?G#onnels, e en as late as .C/0, to insure ictory for the clan" L4/5M Be!e, book iii" cap" :"

L4/4M These !etails, an! countless stories of -t" CuthbertGs miracles, are to be foun! in ,eginal! of #urham, $#e 3!miran!is Beati Cuthberti,$ publishe! by the -urtees -ociety" This curious

book is a!mirably e!ite! by Br" @" ,aineE with an English synopsis at the en!, which enables the rea!er for whom the <atin is too !ifficult to enjoy those pictures of life un!er -tephen an! Henry %%", whether moral, religious, or social, of which the book is a rich museum" L4//M $%n this hole lie the bones of the *enerable Be!e"$

L:5:M 3n English translation of the 3nglo>-a+on life has been publishe! by Br" Go!win, of Cambri!ge, an! is well worth perusal" L:.4M *ita -" Go!rici, pp" ::4, :::"

L:.NM The earlier oneE that of the Harleian B--" which IBr" -te enson thinksK was twice afterwar!s e+pan!e! an! !ecorate! by him" L:4:M ,eginal! wants to make $a won!er incre!ible in our own times,$ of a ery common form Ithank Go!K of peaceful !eath" He makes miracles in the same way of the catching of salmon an! of otters, simple enough to one who, like Go!ric, knew the ri er, an! e ery wil! thing which haunte! it" L::5M That of the -alisbury Banual is publishe! in the $Ecclesiologist$ for 3ugust .9C9, by the ,e " -ir (" H" Cope, to whom % am in!ebte! for the greater number of these curious facts" L::.M % owe these facts to the courtesy of Br" @ohn -tuart, of the General ,egister ?ffice, E!inburgh" L:::M $History of Englan!,$ ol" iii" p" 46N, note"

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