Chapter VI: Martyrs, Hermits, Anchorites, and Relics (2)

Ruffinus says that Macarius once went to visit Antony in the mountain, and, knocking at the door, Antony opened to him and asked, "Who art thou?" He answered, "I am Macarius." And Antony, to prove him, shut the door and left him without, as if holding him in contempt, till, considering his patience, he opened and admitted him joyfully, saying, "Long have I heard of thy fame and desired to see thee." And then he made ready, and they ate together in charity. And in the evening Antony wetted certain palm leaves to weave baskets with, and Macarius asked for some likewise to work along with him; and thus sitting and discoursing of things useful to the soul they made a mat of those leaves; and Antony, seeing that what Macarius had woven was well done, kissed his hands, and said, "Much virtue issues forth of these hands, my brother."

A STARVED HERMIT AND THE BUNCH OF GRAPES.

Macarius the hermit, in order to subdue the rebellious flesh, remained six months in a marsh, and exposed his naked body to the attacks of African gnats. Once he was presented by a traveller with a bunch of grapes, at which he looked longingly; but on reflection he thought another brother was more worthy, to whom he gave them. That brother again remembered another still more worthy, and passed them on. The tempting cluster passed from hand to hand, from worthy to more worthy, until it came back once more to the hands of Macarius, who, not to be tempted overmuch by the devil, flung the morsel far out of his reach.

TWO HERMITS EXCHANGING COURTESIES OVER A LOAF (A.D. 340).

St. Jerome, in his Life of Paul, the first hermit, who for fifteen years never slept except standing against a wall, relates that Antony, hearing that there was a better hermit than himself, went across the desert to find him, and after many dangers at last saw a wolf enter a cave, and divined that this must be the cell of Paul. So he went in, and at the noise Paul shut his door; but Antony fell on his knees and prayed, and then besought admittance, which was granted. Paul then said, "Behold him whom thou hast sought with such labour, with limbs decayed by age, and covered with unkempt white hair. Behold, thou seest but a mortal soon to become dust. But because charity bears all things, tell me, I pray thee, how fares the human race--whether new houses are rising in the ancient cities, by what emperor is the world governed--whether there are any left who are led captive by the deceits of the devil." As they spoke thus, they saw a raven settle on a bough, which, flying gently down, deposited, to their wonder, a whole loaf for their use. When he was gone, "Ah!" said Paul, "the Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, has sent us a meal. For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf, but at thy coming Christ has doubled his soldier's allowance." Then having thanked God, they sat down on the bank of a glassy spring. But here a contention arising as to which of them should break the loaf, occupied the day till well-nigh evening. Paul insisted as the host; Antony declined as the younger man. At last it was agreed that they should take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and each pull towards himself, and keep what was left in his hand. Next they stooped down and drank a little water from the spring; then raising to God the sacrifice of praise, they passed the night watching.

TWO HERMITS TRYING TO QUARREL (A.D. 350).

Ruffinus, in his Lives of the Fathers, relates that there were two ancient hermits who dwelt together and never quarrelled. At last one said to the other, with much simplicity, "Let us have a quarrel, as other men have." And the other answering that he did not know how to quarrel, the first replied, "Look here, I will place this stone in the middle between you and me. I will say it is mine, and do you say that it is not true, for that it is yours; in this manner we will make a quarrel." And placing the stone in the midst, he said, "This stone is mine." And the other said, "No, it is mine." And the first said, "If it be yours, then take it." Not being able either to stamp and swear and blaspheme and slang and defame each other's parents, and shake their fists or strike a blow at a venture at each other, they could not carry the conversation further, and the whole quarrel collapsed.

THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF HERMITS.

St. Jerome and others relate that a certain anchorite in Nitria having left one hundred crowns at his death, which he had acquired by weaving cloth, the monks of that desert met to deliberate what should be done with all that money. Some were for giving it to the poor, others to the Church; but Macarius, Pambo, Isidore, and others, who were called the Fathers, ordered that the one hundred crowns should be thrown into the grave and buried with the corpse of the deceased, and that, at the same time, the following words should be pronounced: "May thy money go with thee to perdition!" This example struck such a terror into all the monks that no one dared lay up any money.

THE WISE SAYINGS OF ST. PAMBO THE HERMIT (A.D. 350).

In the fourth century lived St. Pambo, who became a famous hermit, and practised rush-weaving. One day the blessed Melania took a fine present to him of a silver vessel, which he did not raise his head from his work even to acknowledge, and which caused her to ask if he knew its value. He replied, "He to whom it was offered need not that you should tell him." Two Spanish brothers spent their fortune, one by building hospitals, and the other by giving it away and becoming an anchorite, and Pambo was asked which was the more perfect. His reply was, "Both are perfect before God: there are many roads to perfection, besides that which leads through the desert cell." Some one gave Pambo gold to distribute in alms, and told him to count it. He answered, "God does not ask _how much_, but _how_!" He was on a visit at Alexandria, and there saw an actress perform. Pambo looked sad and observed, "Alas! how much less do I labour to please God than does this poor girl to delight the eyes of men!" He used to say that "a monk should only wear such a dress as no one would pick up, if thrown away." When Pambo was on his deathbed, he said, "I thank God that not a day of my life has been spent in idleness; never have I eaten bread that I have not earned with the sweat of my brow. I thank God that I do not recall any bitter speech I have made, for which I ought to repent now." It is said that Pambo, on beginning his own career, consulted Antony how to act, and the latter gave this advice: "Never trust in your own merits; never trouble yourself about transitory affairs; keep a check on your stomach, and learn to hold your tongue." And Pambo acted strictly on these lines.

A HERMIT CULTIVATING AN OLIVE TREE (A.D. 350).

Mr. Baring-Gould says that Meffreth, a German priest of Meissen, in 1443, told, in one of his sermons, this story of a hermit: There was once an aged hermit in the Egyptian Desert, who thought it would be well with him if he had an olive tree near his cave. So he planted a little tree; and thinking it might want water, he prayed to God for rain; and so rain came and watered his olive. Then he thought that some warm sunshine would do good and swell its buds; so he prayed, and the sun shone out. Now the nursling looked feeble, and the old man deemed it would do good if some frost would come and harden it. He prayed for frost, and hoarfrost settled that night on its branches. Next he thought a hot southerly wind would benefit his tree, and, after praying, the south wind blew upon the olive tree. And then it died. Some little while after, the hermit visited a brother hermit, and lo! by his cell door there grew a flourishing olive tree. "How came that goodly plant here, brother?" asked the unsuccessful hermit. "I planted it, and God blessed it as it grew." "Ah! brother, I, too, planted an olive, and when I thought it wanted water I asked God to give it rain, and the rain came; and when I thought it needed sun, I asked, and the sun shone; and when I thought it needed strengthening, I prayed, and the frost came. God gave me all I demanded for my tree, as I saw fit, and yet it is dead." "And I, brother," replied the other hermit, "left my tree in God's hands, for He knew what it wanted better than I."

MACARIUS STUNG BY A GNAT (A.D. 380).

Ruffinus, in his Life of the hermit Macarius, says that that holy man, sitting one day in his cell and feeling himself bitten in the foot by a gnat, put his hand to the place, and, finding the gnat, killed it. On seeing the blood he blamed himself, as it seemed to him he had revenged himself for the injury received. For this thing and in order to learn meekness he went into the utmost solitude of the wilderness called Scilis, where those gnats are largest and most venomous. He lived there for six months naked, that he might be stung by them; and at the end of that time he returned so disfigured and wounded that he was unrecognisable save by his voice, being covered all over with boils and blisters, so that he lost all shape and appeared leprous.

ST. MARTIN, BISHOP OF TOURS, HERMIT MONK (A.D. 380).

St. Martin of Tours, who died 397, was from infancy devout, but was obliged to enter the army, owing to a decree of the Emperor. While in the army, one very cold and frosty day a poor naked and shivering beggar stood near the gate of Amiens; and as none relieved him, St. Martin, having already given away all he had, took off his own cloak, and with his sword cut it in two, giving one half to the beggar and keeping the other. The bystanders laughed at the figure of the saint; but the following night in his sleep he was astonished to see Jesus Christ appear to him dressed in the beggar's half of the cloak, and asked if he knew it. Jesus then said to a troop of angels attending him, "Martin, yet a catechumen, has clothed Me with this garment." This vision encouraged the saint to persevere in his course. He soon left the army, went into a monastery, and afterwards became a bishop. He had many visions and had great insight into impostors. One day when he was praying in his cell, the devil came to him environed with light and clothed in royal robes, with a crown of gold and precious stones upon his head, and with a gracious and pleasant countenance told Martin how that he was Christ. Martin looked hard at him and said, "The Lord Jesus said not that He was to come clothed with purple and crowned and adorned with a diadem. Nor will I ever believe Him to be Christ who shall not come in the habit and figure in which Christ suffered, and who shall not bear the marks of the cross in his body." At these words the fiend vanished and left in his cell an intolerable stench. The bishop died of a fever at the age of eighty, and insisted in his last days on lying among ashes and in a hair shirt, refusing any comforts; for he said, "It becomes not a Christian to die otherwise than on ashes." Thousands of monks and virgins and the whole population, with hymns, carried his body to its resting-place.

DOROTHEUS, THE HERMITS' ARCHITECT (A.D. 440).

Sozomen, who wrote his history about 440, says that about two thousand monks dwelt near Alexandria in a district called the Hermitage. Dorotheus, a native of Thebes, was among the most celebrated of these. He spent the day in collecting stones upon the seashore, which he used in erecting cells for those who were unable to build them. During the night he employed himself in weaving baskets of palm leaves, and these he sold to obtain the means of subsistence. He ate six ounces of bread with a few vegetables daily, and drank nothing but water. Having accustomed himself to this extreme abstinence from his youth, he continued to observe it in old age. He was never seen to recline on a mat or a bed, nor even to place his limbs in an easy attitude for sleep. Sometimes from natural lassitude his eyes would involuntarily close when he was at his daily labour or his meals, and the food would drop on the way to his mouth. One day Piammon, a presbyter, was conducting the service, and said that he noticed an angel standing near the altar, and writing down the names of the monks who were present and erasing the names of those who were absent.

ST. POEMEN, THE PRINCE OF HERMITS (A.D. 450).

The prince of the desert, the chief of the solitaries and the fellow-citizen of angels, as he was long called, was St. Poemen, an Egyptian who flourished in 450. He had six brothers, and they all had a turn for fasting and self-mortifications, and retired to the desert and lived there, scorning the indulgences of ordinary life. All the people round soon confessed that Poemen was the greatest hermit of his time, and his sayings were quoted over all Christendom. A monk who suffered from violent temptations consulted Poemen how to overcome his evil temper, and was told to retire into the desert and wrestle there with his temper and conquer it. The monk said, "But, father, how if I were to die without Sacraments in the wild waste?" To this Poemen answered, "Do you think God would not receive you, coming from the battle-field?" Another monk, perplexed where to live and how to act, asked Poemen whether he should live in community or in solitude. Poemen replied, "Wherever you find yourself humble-minded, there you may settle down and dwell with security." Another monk went a long journey to see and consult Poemen, and began to talk about subtle theological niceties. Poemen looked grave and silent, till the visitor departed, expressing his disgust at coming so far for nothing. Poemen observed on this afterwards, "This anchorite flies far above my reach. He sails up to heaven, while I creep along the earth. If he would talk about our passions and infirmities and how to overcome them, then we should have some subject in common to talk about." Another time Poemen, asked by a troublesome monk to tell him what was a living faith, replied, "A living faith consists in thinking little of oneself and showing tenderness to others." He also once said, "A warm heart, boiling with charity, is not troubled with temptations, any more than with the flies hovering round it. When the caldron cools, then the flies collect and swarm round it." Poemen lived to one hundred and ten, and had no equal in his time.

ST. MOYSES, WATER-CARRIER TO THE SICK HERMITS (A.D. 470).

St. Moyses of the tenth century was a brawny negro slave who had escaped from his master and lived for a time by rapine and murder. In one of his hairbreadth escapes he took refuge among the hermits, and began to see great merit in them, and tried to live like them and conquer his own furious passions. He consulted the Abbot Isidore, who told him this enterprise would take some time. Moyses said he would wait and try, and he became a priest. In order to give himself exercise and tame his evil spirit, he made a practice of regularly going round the cells of the hermits, and wherever he found one sick he would go and fetch water and fill his pitcher. And this he would do at any hour of the night and go any distance. One night, in stooping over a pool and filling a hermit's pitcher, he was doubled up with an attack of lumbago, and thought the devil had given him a sudden stroke with a club. Moyses lay groaning with pain till next morning, when he was carried to a church, and there people took care of him. He was many months disabled, but on recovery at once resumed his work. One day, the governor hearing of Moyses and being curious to see him, met Moyses, and asked where that famous hermit Moyses lived. Moyses replied, "He's not worth visiting, for he is only a fool." The governor related this to the monks at the nearest monastery, and said that the man who thus answered him was a huge old black fellow, covered with rags. The monks thereupon all exclaimed, "That was Moyses himself; it could be no other."

A HERMIT DEVISING NEW AUSTERITIES (A.D. 479).

In 479 Barnadatus, a Syrian monk, devised some new ways of self-mortification. First he shut himself up in a small chamber; and then, ascending a mountain, he made for himself a wooden box, in which he could not stand upright, and was always confined to a stooping posture. This box having no close covering, he was exposed to the wind, to the rain, and to the sun, and for a long time dwelt in this incommodious house. Afterwards he always stood upright, stretching up his hands to heaven, covered with a garment of skin, with only a small aperture to draw his breath. James, another contemporary monk, lived at first in a small hut, and afterwards in the open air, with only heaven for his covering, enduring the extremes of heat and cold. He had iron chains round his neck and waist, and four other chains hung down from his neck, two before and two behind. He had also chains about his arms. His only food was lentils. For three days and nights he was often so covered with snow, whilst he was prostrate and praying, that he could hardly be seen. This man, according to Theodoret, was celebrated for the many miracles which he wrought.

HERMIT ST. CARILEFF REFUSING A QUEEN'S VISIT (A.D. 540).

St. Carileff was a monk at Menat, near Clermont, and died about 540. He early became dissatisfied with his monastery, and resolved to penetrate farther into the forest, and live a more retired and perfect life. He and a companion went to reconnoitre, and in a remote corner came upon an old neglected vineyard, where they thought of settling down. One hot day the saint was working and had hung his hood on an oak tree, and on returning to resume it he found a wren had laid an egg in it. So the good hermit rejoiced and left his hood, so as not to disturb the tiny creature's nest. When he reported to his abbot this circumstance, the latter said, "This is no accident; return thither, and there a monastery shall arise some day." Carileff returned and settled in the old vineyard, and he gained the confidence of other animals besides the wren; for a large buffalo used to come to his cell and let him rub his shaggy neck, and then it galloped back into the forest. One day the king heard of this splendid buffalo roaming about, and made up a hunting party to secure it. But it took refuge in the hermit's cell; and the huntsmen, hot with pursuit, were so amazed at seeing the great monarch of the forest standing thus peaceably beside its protector, that they acknowledged the man of God's superior power, and ended by giving him a grant of lands to build a monastery there. When the king told this story, the queen was eager to visit the holy recluse, and sent a message; but he most peremptorily refused to see her, saying, "As long as I live I shall never see the face of a woman, and no woman shall ever enter my cell. Why should this queen be so anxious to see a man disfigured by fasting and toil, and as brown as a chameleon? I will pray for her. A monk has no need of great possessions, nor has she of a monk's blessing. But his blessing she shall have, if she will only leave him alone."

THE FIRST SAXON HERMIT (A.D. 708).

Fuller, in his "Church History," says: "St. Guthlake, a Benedictine monk in 708, was the first Saxon that professed a hermitical life in England, to which purpose he chose a fenny place in Lincolnshire called Crowland--that is, the 'raw or crude land'; so raw, indeed, that before him no man could digest to live therein. Yea, the devils are said to claim this place as their peculiar, and to call it their own land. Could those infernal fiends, tortured with immaterial fire, take any pleasure or make any ease to themselves by paddling here in puddles and dabbling in the moist dirty marshes? However, Guthlake took the boldness to 'enter common' with them, and erect his cell in Crowland. But if his prodigious life may be believed, ducks and mallards do not now flock thither faster in September than herds of devils came about him, all whom he is said victoriously to have vanquished. After the example of Moses and Elias, he fasted forty days and nights, till, finding this project destructive to nature, he was forced in his own defence to take some necessary but very sparing refection. He died in his own cell; and Pega, his sister, an anchoritess, led a solitary life not far from him."

ST. GUTHLAC, HERMIT OF CROYLAND (A.D. 708).

This St. Guthlac, according to his biographer, after he had been two years living in a monastery, began to long for the wilderness and a hermitage. Being directed to a fen of immense size in the east of England, he met a man named Tatwaine, who told him of an island which many had attempted to inhabit, but no man could do it on account of manifold horrors and fears and the loneliness of the wide wilderness, so that no man could endure it and fled from it. The holy man at once selected and went through the wild fens till he came to a spot called Croyland. It was a place of accursed spirits; but he was strengthened with heavenly support, and vowed that he would serve God on that island all the days of his life. He used neither woollen nor linen garments, but was clothed in skins; and he tasted nothing but barley bread and water. He was sorely tempted by the devil; but at last the ravens, the beasts, and the fishes came to obey him. Once a venerable brother named Wilfred visited him, and they held many discourses on the spiritual life, when suddenly two swallows came flying in, and, behold, they raised up their song rejoicing. And often they sat fearlessly on the shoulders of the holy man Guthlac, and then lifted up their song, and afterwards they sat on his bosom and on his arms and his knees. When Wilfred had long beheld with wonder the birds so submissively sitting with him, he asked the reason, and Guthlac answered him thus: "Hast thou never learned, brother Wilfred, in Holy Writ, that he who hath led his life after God's will, the wild beasts and birds have made friends with him? And the man who would separate himself from worldly thoughts, to him the very angels come near." When Guthlac died in due time, angelic songs were heard in the sky, and all the air had a wondrous odour of exceeding sweetness.

ST. SIMEON STYLITES (A.D. 459).

St. Simeon Stylites, who immortalised himself by living on a high pillar, flourished about 459, was the son of a shepherd, and in his youth displayed a genius for mortifications of the flesh. He begged admittance to a monastery, and at once outdid all the monks there; for while they ate only once a day, he ate only once a week, and that on Sunday. He at a later stage passed the forty days of each Lent without eating or drinking. Not content with a hermitage, he built himself a small unroofed enclosure of rude stones, on a high mountain forty miles east of Antioch, exposed to the weather. Crowds began to flock to see him and get his benediction. He next built a pillar six cubits high, and lived on it four years. He gradually raised higher pillars; and the fourth time he made a pillar of forty cubits (sixty feet) high, on which he spent his last twenty years of life. It was only three feet in diameter at the top, so that he might not have even the luxury of lying down or sitting. He sometimes prayed in an erect attitude, with his outstretched arms in the figure of a cross; but his most familiar practice was that of bending his meagre skeleton from the forehead to the feet. He bowed his body in continual prayer, and a visitor once counted twelve hundred and forty-four reverences of adoration made by him in one day. He made exhortations to the people twice a day. He died at sixty-nine in the act of prayer on his pillar, and the bishops and all the people round attended his burial, and many miracles were said to have been worked that day in testimony of his sanctity.

A PILLAR MONK IN WESTERN CLIMATES (A.D. 591).

In 591 Vulfilaic, a monk of Lombardy, had a pillar erected for him at Treves, and stood upon it barefoot, enduring great hardship in the winter. The bishops therefore compelled him to come down and to live like other monks, telling him that the severity of the climate would not permit him to imitate the great Simeon of Antioch. He obeyed his superiors, but with tears and reluctance. And this, says Fleury, is the only instance that we know of a stylites or pillar monk in the Western world.

ST. HERBERT, THE HERMIT OF DERWENTWATER (A.D. 650).

Herbert was a monk of Lindisfarne or of Melrose at the same time as St. Cuthbert, by whose advice he retired to the island in Derwentwater, which is five miles long and one and a half miles broad, and lived there. He used to meet St. Cuthbert once every year; and at their meeting about 687 that saint, being then Bishop of Lindisfarne, said to him on parting, "Remember at this time, brother Herbert, to ask and say to me all that you wish, for after our parting now we shall not see each other with the eyes of the flesh in this world; for I know that the time of my departure is at hand, and that I must shortly put off this tabernacle." On this Herbert, falling at his feet with groans and tears, said, "For our Lord's sake, I beseech you not to leave me, but remember your most faithful companion, and entreat the mercy of Heaven that we who have together served Him on earth may pass together to behold His grace and glory in the heavens. You know I have always studied to live according to your direction; and if from ignorance or infirmity I have in any point failed, I have taken pains to chastise and amend my fault according to the decision of your will." The bishop bent in prayer, and being immediately informed by the Spirit that his request was granted, said, "Rise up, my brother, and do not mourn, but rather rejoice greatly, for the mercy of Heaven has granted what we asked." They separated, and never again met; for on March 20th, 687, their spirits, departing from the body, were immediately united in the blessed vision of each other, and by the ministry of angels translated to the kingdom of heaven. In 1374 the then Bishop of Carlisle directed that the anniversary of these saints' death should be commemorated by the vicar of Crosthwaite, with a choir chanting the Mass of St. Cuthbert on this St. Herbert's isle.

ST. ETHELWALD, HERMIT AT FARNE (A.D. 700).

St. Cuthbert, the first hermit of Farne, near Holy Island, was succeeded by Edelwald about 700, and next by Felgund, who told the following anecdote to the Venerable Bede: The walls of St. Cuthbert's oratory in Farne, being composed of planks somewhat carelessly put together, had become loose and tottering by age, and the planks left an opening to the weather. The venerable man, whose aim was rather the splendour of the heavenly than of an earthly mansion, had taken hay or clay or whatever he could get, and filled up the crevices, that he might not be disturbed from the earnestness of his prayers by the daily violence of the winds and storms. When Ethelwald entered and saw these contrivances, he begged the brethren who came thither to give him a calf's skin, and fastened it with nails in the corner where himself and his predecessor used to kneel or stand when they prayed, as a protection against the storm. Twelve years after, he also ascended to the joys of the heavenly kingdom, and Felgund became the third inhabitant of the place. It then seemed good to the Bishop of Lindisfarne to restore from its foundation the time-worn oratory. This being done, many devout persons begged of Christ's holy servant Felgund to give them a small portion of the relics of God's servants Cuthbert and Ethelwald. He accordingly determined to cut up the above-named calf's skin into pieces, and give a portion to each. But he first experienced the influence on his own person, for his face was much deformed by a swelling and a red patch. The malady increased, and fearing lest he should be obliged to abandon the solitary life and return to the monastery, presuming in his faith, he trusted to heal himself by the aid of those holy men whose house he dwelt in, and whose holy life he sought to imitate; for he steeped a piece of the skin above mentioned in water and washed his face therewith, whereupon the swelling was immediately healed, and the cicatrice disappeared. "This I was told," says Bede, "in the first instance by a priest of the monastery of Jarrow, who said he knew Felgund, and saw his face before and after the cure, and Felgund also told me the same. This he ascribed to the agency of the Almighty grace." The Venerable Bede says he was told also of another miracle by one of the brothers on whom it was wrought, namely Guthrid, who narrated as follows: "I came to the island of Farne to speak with the reverend father Ethelwald. Having been refreshed with his discourse, and taken his blessing, as we were returning home, on a sudden when we were in the midst of the sea, there ensued so dismal a tempest that neither the sails nor the oars were of any use to us, nor had we anything to expect but death. After long struggling with the wind and waves to no effect, we looked behind us to see if we could return, and then we observed on the island of Farne Father Ethelwald, beloved of God, come out of his cavern to watch our course. When he beheld us in distress and despair, he bowed his knees to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ in prayer for our life and safety, upon which the swelling sea was calmed, so that the storm ceased on all sides, and a fair wind attended us to the very shore. When we had landed, the storm which had ceased for a short time for our sakes immediately returned, and raged continually during the whole day; so that it plainly appeared that the brief cessation of the storm had been granted from Heaven, at the request of the man of God, in order that we might escape." Ethelwald lived twelve years on the island of Farne, and at his death his remains were taken to Lindisfarne and buried beside his master, St. Cuthbert. Here they remained two centuries till the Danes frightened the holy household, when they were taken away, and at last in the tenth century were buried under the shadow of the new cathedral at Durham.

AN ENGLISH QUEEN CONSULTING A HERMIT ON FAMILY TROUBLES (A.D. 1082).

Matilda of Flanders, the wife of William the Conqueror, being greatly distressed by the constant quarrels between the King and her favourite son Robert, sent to a German hermit of great sanctity, entreating his prayers and advice. The hermit gave his answer thus: "Tell your mistress I have prayed in her behalf, and the Most High has made known to me in a dream the things she desires to learn. I saw in my vision a beautiful pasture covered with grass and flowers, and a noble charger feeding therein. A numerous herd gathered round about, eager to enter and share the feast, but the fiery charger would not permit them to approach near enough to crop the flowers and herbage. But alas! the majestic steed in the midst of his pride and courage died, the terror of his presence ceased, and a poor silly steer appeared in his place as the guardian of the pasture. Then the throng of meaner animals, who had hitherto feared his approach, rushed in and trampled the flowers and grass beneath their feet, and that which they could not devour they defiled and destroyed." The hermit then explained that the steed was William the Conqueror, the silly steer was Robert, and added, "Illustrious lady, if, after hearing the words of the vision in which the Lord has vouchsafed to reply to my prayers, you do not labour to restore the peace of Normandy, you will henceforth behold nothing but misery, the death of your royal spouse, the ruin of all your race, and the desolation of your beloved country." It is said that this answer of the hermit gave no comfort to the Queen, who redoubled her prayers and penitential exercises, but drooped and soon died of a broken heart at the age of fifty-one. She was buried at Caen in a convent.

A THOROUGHLY CONSCIENTIOUS HERMIT (A.D. 1138).

The blessed Schetzelo was a hermit about 1138, living in the woods near Luxemburg, feeding on roots and acorns. His clothing was so scanty as to be scarcely decent; and St. Bernard, who greatly respected him, sent his monks with a present of a shirt and a pair of drawers. Schetzelo at once put them on, but on reflection he pulled them off again, saying that he found he could do without them, and that it was his earnest desire to live without superfluities. The monks asked him if he had suffered many temptations in his time. "Yes," he answered; "the life of man is one long series of temptations." And he then told them how he had once given way, and how heavily he felt the bitterness of self-reproach ever since. One winter, he said, he was lying out in the snow, and the drift covered all his body except the face, where his breath had melted a hole. A poor, half-frozen rabbit, seeking shelter, jumped into the hole and crouched on the hermit's breast. He was moved first to laughter, and then to compassion and pleasure, for the little creature, benumbed with cold, suffered him to stroke its fur; and so, said Schetzelo, "when I ought to have been praying and meditating, I was playing with the rabbit under the snow."

ST. BARTHOLOMEW, THE HERMIT OF FARNE (A.D. 1151).

St. Bartholomew, in 1151, was living quietly as a monk in the cathedral monastery at Durham, when St. Cuthbert appeared to him in a dream and bade him go to the island of Farne, near Holy Island, and there live as a hermit. He went off with the prayers of all the convent, and took up his abode and lived sequestered from the world. He found, however, another monk there before him, called Ebwin, who was very jealous of the newcomer; but Bartholomew endured all the scoffs and reproaches patiently, and at last Ebwin left the place entirely to him. Bartholomew had a cow and a little patch of ground on which he grew barley. He also caught fish occasionally, and filled up the pauses with chanting psalms and hymns, repeating the whole Psalter once, twice, and thrice every day. He was charmed to watch the seagulls and cormorants, his only companions. He would allow no passing sailor to throw stones at these birds. He even tamed one, which came regularly to feed out of his hand every day. One day when he was out fishing, a hawk pursued this poor bird into the chapel and killed it, leaving only the feathers and bones lying on the portal of the holy place. The assassin, however, could not find its way out of the chapel, and kept wheeling round and round, beating against the windows and walls. Brother Bartholomew entered at last and found the cruel bird with its bloody talons, looking shameless and helpless. He mourned bitterly over the fate of his poor favourite and caught the hawk. He kept it two days without food to punish it for its crime, and then, seized with compassion, let go the guilty prisoner. Another time the saint was sitting on the seashore, when he was surprised to feel a cormorant close by his side, pulling with its bill the corner of his garment. He rose and followed the bird along the beach till he came to a hole in the rock, down which one of the young ones had fallen. He soon extricated the trembling creature and restored it to its mother. After living forty-two years in this way, one night one of the brethren at Lindisfarne dreamed that Bartholomew was dead. He immediately aroused the convent, and a party of monks at once sailed across to Farne, and sure enough the holy hermit was lying in his stone coffin, having just died at the time indicated by the dreamer.

A FRENCH KING ON HIS DEATHBED SENDS FOR A HERMIT (1483).

When Louis XI. of France was in his last illness, in 1483, and his sufferings awoke in him remorse for many crimes, he gathered round him all the most famous relics which could be procured--among others, the holy phial, which had never been removed from Rheims since the time of Clovis (656). He entreated Pope Sixtus IV. to send him any relics to relieve his agonies, and liberal supplies were given. The King also sent for hermits and other holy men, in the hope that their intercessions for his life might prevail. The most renowned of the holy men of the period was Francis of Paola, in Calabria, who was born with one eye; but his mother had vowed that, if the other eye might be granted to him, he should become a Franciscan. And her desire was fulfilled. Though utterly illiterate, he became a Minorite friar, and soon withdrew to live in a cave, where the austerity of his life and his supposed miraculous powers made him famous. When Louis first sent a message to Francis, the latter refused; but the Pope interposed and commanded him. The hermit passed through Rome, and caused great excitement, and led the Pope to give leave to Francis to found a society of "Hermits of St. Francis." On reaching the French Court, Francis was received with as much honour as if he had been the Pope himself. Louis could not live without his company, knelt before him, hung on his words, and entreated the holy man to spare his life, even if for a little longer. Rich rewards were heaped on the hermit, and even convents founded in his honour, the members of which were called Minims, owing to their habit of self-abasement. After a few weeks Louis died, notwithstanding the hermit's merit.

CONSECRATION OF HERMITS AND RECLUSES.

The great idea of the hermit life was to live entirely alone, though some hermits lived in small communities in one district in close neighbourhood. Pope Innocent IV., in the middle of the thirteenth century, enrolled these into a separate order with the rule of St. Augustine, and hence called Austin Friars. There were also two grades of hermits. Hermits occasionally visited their fellow-men, but those called recluses abstained from any such visits. The female solitaries were usually recluses. The English hermit of the Middle Ages lived more luxuriously than the foreign hermit, and sometimes had one or two servants to wait upon him in the hermitage, which was often a comfortable house. The usual garb of a hermit was a brown frock with girdle, and over it an ample gown or cloak with hood. A man latterly could not become a recognised hermit without consecration by a bishop, which was a religious service, and he was assigned a district. The service for blessing a hermit consisted of prayers and psalms and a gift of the eremitical habit. Some hermitages had cells to accommodate more than one, as the hermitage at Wetheral, near Carlisle, cut out of the face of a rock one hundred feet high, nearly midway. These hermits and recluses lived in places where alms were likely to be found, and an almsbox was hung up for receiving gifts. The bishop, before giving his licence, usually satisfied himself that alms would be forthcoming sufficient for maintenance. Some female recluses had a room or anchor-house assigned to them near a church or in a churchyard, as was the case at St. Julian, Norwich, and other places, so that the benefit of hearing or seeing Mass was available. In the latter days anchoresses were blamed as having too great a tendency to gossip. Their founder and patroness was Judith, and the first who made any formal rule for their mode of life was one Grimlac, who lived about A.D. 900.

ST. METHODIUS, THE MARTYR FOR IMAGES (A.D. 842).

When the iconoclastic Emperor Leo was persecuting all who defended images in churches, those calling themselves the orthodox party were equally resolute, and furnished also their martyrs ready to die for what they thought to be the truth. St. Methodius was sent by the Pope to make requisitions for the orthodox, but was thrown by the Emperor into prison, and shut up with two thieves in a narrow cell. One of the thieves died, and the corpse was left to putrefy; yet the patience and sweetness of Methodius so gained upon the other thief, that when offered his liberty the thief preferred to remain where he was. After nine years' confinement, Methodius, when drawn out of the cave, was shrivelled to the bone, his skin was bleached, and his rags clotted with filth. Soon again Methodius was brought before the Emperor Theophilus, charged with opposing the destruction of images, and he thus addressed his oppressor: "Sire, be consistent. If we are to have the images of Christ overthrown, then down with the images of the Emperors also." At this Theophilus, being enraged, ordered the monk to be stripped and lashed with thongs of leather, till he fainted with loss of blood. Methodius was then thrown into a dungeon, and his jaw was broken in the struggle. In 842, however, on the death of Theophilus, Methodius was released and made Patriarch of Constantinople. The saint mounted the throne humble as a monk, and wearing a bandage round his face to support his broken jaw, a living monument of the violence of his persecutors and of his confessorship of the orthodox faith. He instituted an annual festival, called the Festival of Orthodoxy, and died in 846.

THE MIRACLES OF SAINTS.

The view taken of the alleged miracles performed by saints, especially in the earlier centuries, divided broadly the Roman Catholic from the Protestant Christians, the former still maintaining, defending, and believing in the existence of the power of working miracles, the latter ostentatiously and dogmatically denying such power. Guizot says that the Bollandist collection of Lives of Saints includes twenty-five thousand, and nearly all the saints there recorded occasionally worked miracles. It is true that many educated Roman Catholics admit that it is not necessary for them to believe all these records. Since the revival of learning and the Reformation incredulity has set in, and sapped and mined nearly all the miraculous feats recorded in the Lives of the Saints. Middleton in 1748 published his "Free Inquiry," and shook the faith of the moderns in any of these miracles subsequent to those recorded in the New Testament. As Lecky observes in his "History of Rationalism," the miracles of the New Testament were always characterised by dignity and solemnity; they always conveyed some spiritual lesson, and conferred some actual benefit, besides attesting the character of the worker. The mediæval miracles, on the contrary, were frequently trivial, purposeless, and unimpressive, constantly verging on the grotesque, and not unfrequently passing the border.

LOCAL AND PATRON SAINTS.

There were some universal saints of Christendom, such as the Apostles and early martyrs, the four great Fathers of the Latin Church--some few like St. Thomas à Becket, held up as a martyr of his order; St. Benedict, the founder of the Benedictine order; and some founders of monastic institutes, as Dominic and Francis. Other saints had a more limited fame, and each kingdom of Christendom had its tutelar saint. France had three--St. Martin of Tours, St. Reine, St. Denys; Spain had the Apostle James, St. Jago of Compostella; Germany had Boniface; Scotland had St. Andrew; Ireland had St. Patrick; and England had St. George. Every city, town, or village also usually had its own saint. Female prophets were called Brides of Christ, and were thought to have constant personal intercourse with the saints, the Virgin, and our Lord Himself, like St. Catherine of Sienna and St. Bridget of Sweden. In later days Christian charity had its saints, as Vincent de Paul, St. Teresa, and St. Francis de Sales. Every one of the saints had his life of wonder, the legend of his virtues, his miracles, perhaps his martyrdom, his shrines, his reliques. The legend was the dominant universal poetry of the times. And the legend was perpetually confirmed, illustrated, and kept alive by reliques, shown either in the church or under the altar or upon the altar. It was a pious enterprise even to steal reliques. Clotaire II. cut off and stole an arm of St. Denys. The head of St. Andrew was once carried away by a king in his flight; kings vied for the purchase, and vast sums were offered for it.

ST. GENEVIÈVE, PATRON SAINT OF PARIS AND FRANCE (A.D. 430).

About 430, as St. Germanus and St. Lupus were on their way to England to refute the Pelagian heresy, they stayed one night at Nanterre, a village near Paris. The villagers went in a crowd to look at these renowned saints, and a little girl in the crowd attracted the notice of Germanus, who called her to him, asked her name and all about her, and ended by bidding her parents to rejoice in the sanctity of their daughter. He then addressed little Geneviève on the exalted condition of perpetual virginity, and appointed a service in the church that he might consecrate her at once to that holy life. The service was performed, and the saint gave her at parting a brass coin, shaped like a cross, which he told her to wear as her only ornament, and leave silver and precious stones for the children of this world. From that day miraculous gifts descended on the child, who excelled all others. She once had a trance, in which she was led by an angel to survey the dwellings of the just, and the rewards of the spiritual life. She also received the gift of divining people's thoughts. She soon became marked out, and, like other holy people, excited envy for the powers she possessed. When the Huns invaded Paris, the terrified citizens were told by her to take courage, and she assembled the matrons that they might seek deliverance by prayer and fasting; and the deliverance came, for the Huns were diverted through the efficacy of her prayers from Paris. She had great powers of abstinence, and from her fifteenth to her fiftieth year she ate only twice a week, and that was bread of barley or beans; and after fifty a little fish and milk were added to her diet. Every Saturday night she kept a vigil in the church of St. Denys, and then retired to her cell, where she was as much visited by crowds as a saint on his pillar. After she was dead her relics were eagerly sought after by rival Churches, and these stayed the horrors of plague and famine and flood wherever they were taken. All Paris believed in her as the patron saint.

EXCESSIVE REVERENCE FOR RELICS (A.D. 406).

The extravagant veneration paid to the martyrs roused great opposition in the fifth century, and the presbyter Vigilantius of Barcelona wrote a tract censuring these ashes-worshippers and idolaters. He represented it as supremely ridiculous to manifest this adoration of a miserable heap of ashes and wretched bones, and covering these with costly drapery and kissing them. He also complained that the practice of placing lighted lamps before the martyrs was only an imitation of the Pagan practice before the images of their gods. Why should they think it a merit to place miserable wax candles before the effigies of those on whom the Lamb in the midst of God's throne reflected all the brightness of His majesty? He also thought the practice of nocturnal assemblies, held by both sexes in the churches of the martyrs, was a temptation to misconduct. And he even questioned the reliance placed in the intercessions of the martyrs. Jerome, on the other hand, defended most of these practices. His answer was, that if the Apostles and martyrs in their earthly life, before they were out of the conflict, were able to pray effectually for others, how much more could they do so after they had obtained the victory! The worship of the Virgin Mary was thought to be mainly due to the ascetic spirit brooding over the cradle of Christianity.

GREAT SECRECY IN REMOVING RELICS.

The acquisition and preservation of relics by the monks may be said to absorb all their zeal. It was decreed once that the body of St. John of the Cross should be secretly removed from Ubede to Segovia, and an officer of the Court arrived by night at the monastery, and having desired an audience of the father prior on a matter of the greatest consequence, he intimated to him the order of which he was the bearer. The order enjoined the prior, on pain of excommunication, to take up the body secretly, without apprising any one of what was to be done. This was an unexpected blow to the prior; but he took precautions, and when every one in the monastery was asleep, he went down into the grave accompanied by the officer and two monks bound to secrecy. They opened the grave; but lo! the saint being dead a year, the body was still perfect and the flesh undecayed. As the bones only were demanded, the object could not be effected, but quicklime was laid in the grave, and the officer departed and returned in nine months. The same precautions being adopted and the grave opened, the body was still perfect; but being dried by the lime, it was put in a leather case and committed to the messenger. The men left at about midnight, and strange visions were seen the same hour. One monk awoke greatly perturbed and went down to the church; but finding the prior standing at the door, who refused to allow any one to enter, the uneasy and curious monk was ordered to return to his bed without receiving any explanation. The officer meanwhile bearing the body, declared that after leaving Ubede and passing some desert mountains, he heard awful voices in the air which were not human, and which greatly disturbed him.

RIVAL MONKS CAPTURING HOLY RELICS (A.D. 1030).