This is a modern-English version of The Lives of the Saints, Volume 01 (of 16): January, originally written by Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine). It has been thoroughly updated, including changes to sentence structure, words, spelling, and grammar—to ensure clarity for contemporary readers, while preserving the original spirit and nuance. If you click on a paragraph, you will see the original text that we modified, and you can toggle between the two versions.

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THE

THE

Lives of the Saints


REV. S. BARING-GOULD

Rev. S. Baring-Gould

SIXTEEN VOLUMES

16 VOLUMES

VOLUME THE FIRST

VOLUME ONE


SILVER-GILT MONSTRANCE.


THE

THE

Lives of the Saints

Saints' Lives

BY THE

BY THE

REV. S. BARING-GOULD, M.A.

Rev. S. Baring-Gould, M.A.

New Edition in 16 Volumes

New Edition in 16 volumes

Revised with Introduction and Additional Lives of
English Martyrs, Cornish and Welsh Saints,
and a full Index to the Entire Work

Revised with Introduction and Additional Lives of
English Martyrs, Cornish and Welsh Saints,
and a complete Index to the Entire Work

ILLUSTRATED BY OVER 400 ENGRAVINGS

ILLUSTRATED WITH OVER 400 IMAGES

VOLUME THE FIRST

VOLUME ONE

January

January

LONDON

LONDON

JOHN C. NIMMO

JOHN C. NIMMO

14 KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND

14 King William Street, Strand

MDCCCXCVII

1897


Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press


AUTHOR'S PREFACE
TO FIRST EDITION
(1872)

T.

he Lives of the Saints, which I have begun, is an undertaking, of whose difficulty few can have any idea. Let it be remembered, that there were Saints in every century, for eighteen hundred years; that their Acts are interwoven with the profane history of their times, and that the history, not of one nation only, but of almost every nation under the sun; that the records of these lives are sometimes fragmentary, sometimes mere hints to be culled out of secular history; that authentic records have sometimes suffered interpolation, and that some records are forgeries; that the profane history with which the lives of the Saints is mixed up is often dark and hard to be read; and then some idea may be formed of the difficulty of this undertaking.

The Lives of the Saints, which I've started, is an endeavor that few can truly grasp the difficulty of. It's important to remember that there were Saints in every century for eighteen hundred years; their actions are intertwined with the secular history of their times, and not just in one country but in almost every nation around the world. The records of these lives can be incomplete at times, or they might only provide small hints found in non-religious history. Sometimes, the authentic records have been tampered with, and other times, some accounts are outright forgeries. The secular history mixed in with the lives of the Saints is often dark and difficult to navigate; considering all this gives a clearer idea of the challenges involved in this endeavor.

After having had to free the Acts of a martyr from a late accretion of fable, and to decide whether the passion took place under—say Decius or Diocletian, Claudius the Elder, or Claudius the younger,—the writer of a hagiology is hurried into Byzantine politics, and has to collect the thread of a saintly confessor's [Pg vi] life from the tangle of political and ecclesiastical intrigue, in that chaotic period when emperors rose and fell, and patriarchs succeeded each other with bewildering rapidity. And thence he is, by a step, landed in the romance world of Irish hagiology, where the footing is as insecure as on the dark bogs of the Emerald Isle. Thence he strides into the midst of the wreck of Charlemagne's empire, to gather among the splinters of history a few poor mean notices of those holy ones living then, whose names have survived, but whose acts are all but lost. And then the scene changes, and he treads the cool cloister of a mediæval abbey, to glean materials for a memoir of some peaceful recluse, which may reflect the crystalline purity of the life without being wholly colourless of incident.

After having to separate the acts of a martyr from a later buildup of legend, and to figure out whether the events happened under—let's say Decius or Diocletian, Claudius the Elder, or Claudius the Younger—the writer of a hagiography gets swept up in Byzantine politics and has to piece together the life of a saintly confessor from the chaos of political and church intrigues during that tumultuous time when emperors rose and fell, and patriarchs replaced one another at an astonishing pace. From there, he steps into the romantic world of Irish hagiology, where the ground is just as unstable as on the dark bogs of the Emerald Isle. He then strides into the remnants of Charlemagne's empire, searching among the fragments of history for a few sparse details about the holy figures of that time, whose names have survived, but whose deeds are almost entirely forgotten. Then the scene shifts, and he walks through the cool cloister of a medieval abbey, gathering materials for a memoir of some tranquil recluse, which may capture the pure essence of that life without being entirely devoid of events.

And then, maybe, he has to stand in the glare of the great conflagration of the sixteenth century, and mark some pure soul passing unscathed through the fire, like the lamp in Abraham's vision.

And then, maybe, he has to stand in the bright light of the huge fire of the sixteenth century and see some pure soul passing through the flames unharmed, like the lamp in Abraham's vision.

That one man can do justice to this task is not to be expected. When Bellarmine heard of the undertaking of Rosweydus, he asked "What is this man's age? does he expect to live two hundred years?" But for the work of the Bollandists, it would have been an impossibility for me to undertake this task. But even with this great storehouse open, the work to be got through is enormous. Bollandus began January with two folios in double columns, close print, of 1200 pages each. As he and his coadjutors proceeded, fresh materials came in, and February occupies three volumes. May swelled into seven folios, September [Pg vii] into eight, and October into ten. It was begun in 1643, and the fifty-seventh volume appeared in 1861.

It's unrealistic to expect one person to handle this task. When Bellarmine heard about Rosweydus's undertaking, he asked, "How old is this man? Does he think he’ll live for two hundred years?" Without the Bollandists' work, it would have been impossible for me to take on this project. Even with this extensive resource available, the amount of work to be done is overwhelming. Bollandus started January with two folios in double columns, with close print, totaling 1200 pages each. As he and his colleagues progressed, new materials came in, and February expanded to three volumes. May grew to seven folios, September to eight, and October to ten. It began in 1643, and the fifty-seventh volume was published in 1861.

The labour of reading, digesting, and selecting from this library is enormous. With so much material it is hard to decide what to omit, but such a decision must be made, for the two volumes of January have to be crushed into one, not a tenth of the size of one of Bollandus, and the ten volumes for October must suffer compression to an hundredth degree, so as to occupy the same dimensions. I had two courses open to me. One to give a brief outline, bare of incident, of the life of every Saint; the other to diminish the number of lives, and present them to the reader in greater fulness, and with some colour. I have adopted this latter course, but I have omitted no Saint of great historical interest. I have been compelled to put aside a great number of lesser known saintly religious, whose eventless lives flowed uniformly in prayer, vigil, and mortification.

The work involved in reading, processing, and selecting from this library is huge. With so much content, it's tough to decide what to leave out, but that choice has to be made because the two volumes from January need to be condensed into one that's not even a tenth the size of one of Bollandus’s volumes, and the ten volumes for October have to be shrunk down to a hundredth of their size to fit the same dimensions. I had two options. One was to provide a brief, incident-free summary of each Saint's life; the other was to reduce the number of lives included and present them in more detail and with some depth. I’ve chosen the second option, but I haven’t excluded any Saints of significant historical interest. I’ve had to leave out many lesser-known holy figures whose uneventful lives were mainly filled with prayer, vigil, and self-discipline.

In writing the lives of the Saints, I have used my discretion, also, in relating only those miracles which are most remarkable, either for being fairly well authenticated, or for their intrinsic beauty or quaintness, or because they are often represented in art, and are therefore of interest to the archæologist. That errors in judgment, and historical inaccuracies, have crept into this volume, and may find their way into those that succeed, is, I fear, inevitable. All I can promise is, that I have used my best endeavours to be accurate, having had recourse to all such modern critical works as have been accessible to me, for the determining of dates, and the estimation of authorities.

In writing about the lives of the Saints, I've used my judgment to share only the most notable miracles, whether they're well-documented, particularly beautiful or interesting, or frequently depicted in art, making them relevant to historians. I worry that some errors in judgment and historical inaccuracies have slipped into this book, and might appear in future volumes as well. All I can promise is that I've done my best to be accurate, relying on all the modern critical works that I've had access to for determining dates and assessing sources.

Believing that in some three thousand and six hundred memoirs of men, many of whose lives closely resembled each other, it would be impossible for me to avoid a monotony of style which would become as tedious to the reader as vexatious to myself, I have occasionally admitted the lives of certain Saints by other writers, thereby giving a little freshness to the book, where there could not fail otherwise to have been aridity; but I have, I believe, in no case, inserted a life by another pen, without verifying the authorities.

Believing that with around three thousand six hundred memoirs of men, many of whom had similar lives, I couldn't avoid a repetitive style that would be just as boring for the reader as it would be frustrating for me, I've occasionally included the lives of certain Saints written by others. This adds some freshness to the book, where otherwise it would have been dry. However, I believe that in every case, I've made sure to verify the sources before including any work by another author.

At the head of every article the authority for the life is stated, to which the reader is referred for fuller details. The editions of these authorities are not given, as it would have greatly extended the notices, and such information can readily be obtained from that invaluable guide to the historian of the Middle Ages, Potthast: Bibliotheca Historica Medii Ævi, Berlin, 1862; the second part of which is devoted to the Saints.

At the beginning of each article, the source of the life is mentioned, directing the reader for more details. The editions of these sources are not provided, as it would have significantly lengthened the entries, and this information can easily be found in the invaluable resource for historians of the Middle Ages, Potthast: Bibliotheca Historica Medii Ævi, Berlin, 1862; the second part of which focuses on the Saints.

I have no wish that my work should be regarded as intended to supplant that of Alban Butler. My line is somewhat different from his. He confined his attention to the historical outlines of the saintly lives, and he rarely filled them in with anecdote. Yet it is the little details of a man's life that give it character, and impress themselves on the memory. People forget the age and parentage of S. Gertrude, but they remember the mouse running up her staff.

I don’t want my work to be seen as a replacement for Alban Butler's. My approach is a bit different from his. He focused mainly on the historical outlines of the lives of saints and often left out personal stories. However, it's the small details of a person's life that give it personality and stick in people’s minds. While people may forget the age and background of St. Gertrude, they will remember the mouse running up her staff.

A priest of the Anglican Church, I have undertaken to write a book which I hope and trust will be welcome to Roman and Anglican Catholics, alike. It would have been unseemly to have carried prejudice, impertinent [Pg ix] to have obtruded sectarianism, into a work like this. I have been called to tread holy ground, and kneel in the midst of the great company of the blessed; and the only fitting attitude of the mind for such a place, and such society, is reverence. In reading the miracles recorded of the Saints, of which the number is infinite, the proper spirit to observe is, not doubt, but discrimination. Because much is certainly apocryphal in these accounts, we must not therefore reject what may be true. The present age, in its vehement naturalism, places itself, as it were, outside of the circle of spiritual phenomena, and is as likely to deny the supernatural agency in a marvel, as a mediæval was liable to attribute a natural phenomenon to spiritual causes. In such cases we must consider the evidence and its worth or worthlessness. It may be that, in God's dealings with men, at a time when natural means of cure were unattainable, the supernatural should abound, but that when the science of medicine became perfected, and the natural was rendered available to all, the supernatural should, to some extent, at least, be withdrawn.

As a priest of the Anglican Church, I've taken it upon myself to write a book that I hope will be appreciated by both Roman and Anglican Catholics. It would have been inappropriate to bring in any bias or push sectarian views in a work like this. I have been called to a sacred space, to kneel among the great company of the blessed; and the only suitable mindset for such a place and company is one of reverence. When reading the miracles attributed to the Saints, which are countless, the right approach is not skepticism, but discernment. While it's true that many of these accounts are apocryphal, we shouldn't dismiss what could be true. Today's world, with its intense focus on naturalism, positions itself outside the realm of spiritual phenomena and is just as likely to deny supernatural involvement in a miracle as someone in medieval times was to attribute a natural event to spiritual causes. In such situations, we need to evaluate the evidence and its validity. It’s possible that, in God's interactions with humanity, during times when natural healing methods were unavailable, the supernatural was more prevalent. However, now that medical science has advanced and natural remedies are accessible to everyone, the supernatural might, at least to some degree, be less evident.

Of the Martyrologies referred to, it may be as well to mention the dates of the most important. That of Ado is of the ninth century, Bede's of the eighth;[1] there are several bearing the name of S. Jerome, which differ from one another, they are forms of the ancient Roman Martyrology. The Martyrology of Notker (D. 912), of Rabanus Maurus (D. 856), of Usuardus (875), of Wandalbert (circ. 881). The general catalogue of the Saints by Ferrarius was [Pg x] published in 1625, the Martyrology of Maurolycus was composed in 1450, and published 1568. The modern Roman Martyrology is based on that of Usuardus. It is impossible, in the limited space available for a preface, to say all that is necessary on the various Kalendars, and Martyrologies, that exist, also on the mode in which some of the Saints have received apotheosis. Comparatively few Saints have received formal canonization at Rome; popular veneration was regarded as sufficient in the mediæval period, before order and system were introduced; thus there are many obscure Saints, famous in their own localities, and perhaps entered in the kalendar of the diocese, whose claims to their title have never been authoritatively inquired into, and decided upon. There is also great confusion in the monastic kalendars in appropriating titles to those commemorated; here a holy one is called "the Venerable," there "the Blessed," and in another "Saint." With regard also to the estimation of authorities, the notes of genuineness of the Acts of the martyrs, the tests whereby apocryphal lives and interpolations may be detected, I should have been glad to have been able to make observations. But this is a matter which there is not space to enter upon here.

Of the Martyrologies mentioned, it’s worth noting the dates of the most significant ones. Ado’s is from the ninth century, Bede’s from the eighth;[1] there are several that bear S. Jerome's name, which vary from each other, and they are versions of the ancient Roman Martyrology. The Martyrology of Notker (D. 912), Rabanus Maurus (D. 856), Usuardus (875), and Wandalbert (around 881) are all notable. Ferrarius's general catalogue of Saints was published in 1625, while Maurolycus’s Martyrology was composed in 1450 and published in 1568. The modern Roman Martyrology is based on Usuardus's version. In this limited space for a preface, it’s impossible to cover everything necessary about the various Kalendars and Martyrologies that exist, as well as how some Saints have been recognized. Relatively few Saints have been formally canonized in Rome; during medieval times, popular veneration was considered sufficient before order and system were established. Consequently, there are many lesser-known Saints who are well-known in their local areas and may even be listed in the diocese’s kalendar, yet their claims to this title have never been thoroughly investigated or confirmed. There’s also a lot of confusion in monastic kalendars regarding the titles assigned to those being commemorated; some are called "the Venerable," others "the Blessed," and yet others simply "Saint." Additionally, regarding the credibility of sources, the authenticity of the martyrs' Acts, and the criteria to identify apocryphal accounts and interpolations, I wish I could provide insights. However, this is a topic that cannot be explored in this space.

The author cannot dismiss the work without expressing a hope that it may be found to meet a want which he believes has long been felt; for English literature is sadly deficient in the department of hagiology.

The author can't just dismiss the work without sharing a hope that it will fulfill a need that he believes has been felt for a long time; English literature is unfortunately lacking in the field of hagiology.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This only exists in an interpolated condition.

[1] This only exists in a modified state.


INTRODUCTION
TO THE
LIVES OF THE SAINTS

THE MARTYROLOGIES

A.

martyrology means, properly, a list of witnesses. The martyrologies are catalogues in which are to be found the names of the Saints, with the days and places of their deaths, and generally with the distinctive character of their sanctity, and with an historic summary of their lives. The name is incorrect if we use the word "martyr" in its restricted sense as a witness unto death. "Hagiology" would be more suitable, as a martyrology includes the names of many Saints who were not martyrs. But the term "Martyrology" was given to this catalogue at an early age, when it was customary to commemorate only those who were properly martyrs, having suffered death in testimony to their faith; but it is not unsuitable if we regard as martyrs all those who by their lives have testified to the truth, as indeed we are justified in doing.

Martyrology refers to a list of witnesses. The martyrologies are catalogs that include the names of the Saints, along with the dates and locations of their deaths, generally including details about their unique sanctity and a brief summary of their lives. The term is technically inaccurate if we consider "martyr" in its narrowest sense as someone who witnesses to the point of death. "Hagiology" might be a better fit, as a martyrology contains the names of many Saints who were not martyrs. However, the term "Martyrology" was assigned to this catalog in early times when it was typical to honor only those who were true martyrs, having died for their faith; yet it still holds if we acknowledge as martyrs all those who have testified to the truth through their lives, which we are indeed justified in doing.

In the primitive Church it was customary for the [Pg xii] Holy Eucharist to be celebrated on the anniversary of the death of a martyr—if possible, on his tomb. Where in one diocese there were several martyrs, as, for instance, in that of Cæsarea, there were many days in the year on which these commemorations were made, and the Church—say that of Cæsarea—drew up a calendar with the days marked on which these festivals occurred.

In the early Church, it was common for the [Pg xii] Holy Eucharist to be celebrated on the anniversary of a martyr's death—ideally at their tomb. In dioceses where there were multiple martyrs, like in Cæsarea, there were several days throughout the year dedicated to these commemorations. The Church, for example, in Cæsarea, created a calendar that listed the days these festivals took place.

In his "Church History," Eusebius quotes a letter from the Church of Smyrna, in which, after giving an account of the martyrdom of their bishop, S. Polycarp, the disciple of S. John the Divine, the Smyrnians observe: "Our subtle enemy, the devil, did his utmost that we should not take away the body, as many of us anxiously wished. It was suggested that we should desert our crucified Master, and begin to worship Polycarp. Fools! who knew not that we can never desert Christ, who died for the salvation of all men, nor worship any other. Him we adore as the Son of God; but we show respect to the martyrs, as His disciples and followers. The centurion, therefore, caused the body to be burned; we then gathered his bones, more precious than pearls, and more tried than gold, and buried them. In this place, God willing, we will meet, and celebrate with joy and gladness the birthday of this martyr, as well in memory of those who have been crowned before, as by his example to prepare and strengthen others for the combat."[2]

In his "Church History," Eusebius quotes a letter from the Church of Smyrna, in which, after recounting the martyrdom of their bishop, S. Polycarp, the disciple of S. John the Divine, the Smyrnians say: "Our clever enemy, the devil, did everything he could to prevent us from taking the body, as many of us desperately wanted to. It was suggested that we should abandon our crucified Master and start worshiping Polycarp. Fools! They didn’t realize that we can never abandon Christ, who died for everyone's salvation, nor worship anyone else. We worship Him as the Son of God; however, we show respect to the martyrs as His disciples and followers. The centurion, therefore, had the body burned; we then gathered his bones, which are more precious than pearls and more refined than gold, and buried them. Here, God willing, we will gather and joyfully celebrate the birthday of this martyr, both in memory of those who have already received their crowns and by his example to prepare and strengthen others for the fight." [2]

S. Polycarp suffered in the year 166; he had been ordained Bishop of Smyrna by S. John in 96. This passage is extremely interesting, for it shows us, in the age following that of the apostles, the Church already keeping the festivals of martyrs, and, as we may conclude from the words of the letter, over the tombs of the martyrs. In this the Church was following the pattern shown to S. John in vision; for he heard the cry of the souls of the martyrs reposing under the altar in heaven. Guided, doubtless, by this, the Church erected altars over the bodies of saints. Among the early Christian writers there are two, S. Paulinus of Nola, and Prudentius, whose testimony is of intrinsic value, not only from its being curiously interesting, but because it is so full and unequivocal as to the fact of the tombs of the martyrs being used as altars.[3] In one of his letters to Severus, S. Paulinus encloses some verses of his own composition, which were to be inscribed over the altar under which was deposited the body of S. Clavus, of whom the venerable prelate says:

S. Polycarp was martyred in 166; he was appointed Bishop of Smyrna by S. John in 96. This account is very interesting because it shows us that in the period after the apostles, the Church was already observing the festivals of martyrs, and we can infer from the letter's wording that they were commemorating them at their graves. The Church was following the vision given to S. John, who heard the voices of the souls of martyrs resting under the altar in heaven. Likely inspired by this, the Church built altars over the remains of saints. Among the early Christian writers, two stand out: S. Paulinus of Nola and Prudentius, whose testimony is valuable, not just because it's fascinating, but also because it clearly confirms the fact that the tombs of the martyrs were used as altars.[3] In one of his letters to Severus, S. Paulinus includes some verses he wrote to be inscribed over the altar that held the body of S. Clavus, whom the esteemed bishop mentions:

"Saints' bones rest beneath eternal altars."[4]

Before describing the basilica of Nola, the Saint proceeds to give a sketch of another but a smaller church, which he had just erected in the town of Fondi. After furnishing some details about this latter edifice, he says, "The sacred ashes—some of the blessed relics of the apostles and martyrs—shall consecrate this little basilica also in the name of Christ, the Saint of saints, the Martyr of martyrs, and the Lord of lords."[5] For this church two inscriptions were composed by Paulinus: one, to accompany the painting with which he had adorned the apse; the other, to announce that portions of the relics of the Apostle S. Andrew, of the Evangelist S. Luke, and of S. Nazarius, and other martyrs, were deposited under the altar. His verses may be thus rendered:

Before describing the basilica of Nola, the Saint first gives a brief overview of another, smaller church that he had just built in the town of Fondi. After sharing some details about this new building, he says, "The sacred ashes—some of the blessed relics of the apostles and martyrs—will also consecrate this little basilica in the name of Christ, the Saint of saints, the Martyr of martyrs, and the Lord of lords." [5] For this church, Paulinus wrote two inscriptions: one to accompany the painting with which he decorated the apse; the other to announce that parts of the relics of the Apostle St. Andrew, the Evangelist St. Luke, St. Nazarius, and other martyrs were placed under the altar. His verses can be rendered as follows:

"In royal shrines, adorned with purple marble, Their bones are under lit altars. A sacred group stored in a small chest, "Full of powerful names within its small heart."

Prudentius visited not only the more celebrated churches in Spain built over the bodies of the martyrs, he being a Spaniard by birth, but he also visited those of Italy and Rome on a journey made in 405. During his residence in the capital of Christianity, the poet frequented the catacombs; and he has bequeathed to us a valuable record of what he there saw. In his hymn in honour of S. Hippolytus, he tells us that he visited the sepulchral chapel in which were deposited the remains of the martyr; and, after having described the entrance into the cemetery, and the frescoes that adorned it, he adds:

Prudentius visited not only the famous churches in Spain built over the martyrs' remains, since he was born in Spain, but he also traveled to those in Italy and Rome during a journey in 405. While he was in the heart of Christianity, the poet often explored the catacombs; he left us a valuable record of what he saw there. In his hymn dedicated to St. Hippolytus, he mentions visiting the burial chapel where the martyr's remains were laid to rest, and after describing the entrance to the cemetery and the frescoes that decorated it, he adds:

"In a dark cave, the martyr's body is laid," And there to God with holy altars adorned, To serve the sacrament, the table is set, And watch over the holy martyr's resting place with great enthusiasm. The bones lie in this sacred grave, To wait for the generous favor of the eternal Judge; And there, with holy food, are nourished those "Who calls on Christ where the brown Tiber river flows."[6]

In his other hymns, Prudentius bears the most unequivocal testimony to the practice, even then a long time in use, of depositing the relics of the Saints immediately under the altar. It is unnecessary to quote more. The assertions of ancient writers on this point have been several times verified. The bodies of the martyrs have been discovered under the high altars of the churches dedicated to God in their memory. The body of S. Martina, together with those of two other martyrs, SS. Concordens and Epiphanius, were found in 1624 under the high altar of the ancient church near the Roman Forum, which bears the name of the Saint. The body of S. Agnes, and that of another virgin martyr, were also ascertained to be under the high altar of her church, denominated Fuori delle Mura. These, however, had all been removed from the Catacombs into Rome, within the walls.

In his other hymns, Prudentius clearly shows that it was common practice, even back then, to place the relics of the Saints right under the altar. There's no need to provide more examples. The claims made by ancient writers on this subject have been confirmed multiple times. The remains of the martyrs have been found beneath the high altars of churches dedicated to God in their honor. The body of St. Martina, along with those of two other martyrs, Sts. Concordens and Epiphanius, was discovered in 1624 under the high altar of the old church near the Roman Forum, named after the Saint. The body of St. Agnes, as well as another virgin martyr, were also found beneath the high altar of her church, called Fuori delle Mura. However, all of these had been moved from the Catacombs into Rome, inside the city walls.

Now this fact being established, as well as that of the annual commemoration of the Saint reposing in the church, it follows that it became necessary for a Church to draw up calendars marking those days in the year which were consecrated to the memory of martyrs whose relics were preserved in it; for instance, in the Church of Fondi, which contained relics of S. Andrew, S. Luke, S. Nazarius, and others, the Holy Eucharist would be celebrated over the relics on the day of S. Andrew, on that of S. Luke, on that of S. Nazarius, and so on; and it would be necessary for the Church to have a calendar of the days thus set apart.

Now that this fact is established, along with the annual celebration of the Saint resting in the church, it became necessary for the Church to create calendars marking the days of the year dedicated to the memory of martyrs whose relics were preserved there. For example, in the Church of Fondi, which housed relics of St. Andrew, St. Luke, St. Nazarius, and others, the Holy Eucharist would be celebrated over the relics on the feast days of St. Andrew, St. Luke, St. Nazarius, and so on. Therefore, it was essential for the Church to maintain a calendar of these designated days.

In the first centuries of the Church, not only the Saints whose bodies reposed in the church, but also the dead of the congregation were commemorated.

In the early centuries of the Church, not only the Saints whose bodies rested in the church but also the deceased members of the congregation were remembered.

When a Roman Consul was elected, on entering on his office he distributed among his friends certain presents, called diptychs. These diptychs were folding tablets of ivory or boxwood, sometimes of silver, connected together by hinges, so that they could be shut or opened like a book. The exterior surface was richly carved, and generally bore a portrait of the Consul who gave them away. Upon the inner surface was written an epistle which accompanied the present, or a panegyric on himself. They were reminders to friends, given much as a Christmas card is now sent. The diptych speedily came into use in the Church. As the Consul on his elevation sent one to his friends to remind them of his exaltation, so, on a death in the congregation, a diptych was sent to the priest as a reminder of the dead who desired the prayers of the faithful. At first, no doubt, there was a pack of these little memorials, each bearing the name of the person who desired to be remembered at the altar. But, for convenience, one double tablet was after a while employed instead of a number, and all the names of those who were to be commemorated were written in this book. From the ancient liturgies we gather that it was the office of the deacon to rehearse aloud, to the people and the priest, this catalogue registered in the public diptychs. In the "Ecclesiastical Hierarchy," attributed to S. Dionysius the Areopagite, but really of a later date, the end of the fifth century, the author says of the ceremonies of the Eucharist, that [Pg xvii] after the kiss of peace, "When all have reciprocally saluted one another, there is made the mystic recitation of the sacred tablets."[7] In the Liturgy of S. Mark we have this, "The deacon reads the diptychs (or catalogue) of the dead. The priest then bowing down prays: To the souls of all these, O Sovereign Lord our God, grant repose in Thy holy tabernacle, in Thy kingdom, bestowing on them the good things promised and prepared by Thee," etc.

When a Roman Consul was elected, upon taking office, he would give gifts, known as diptychs, to his friends. These diptychs were folding tablets made of ivory or boxwood, sometimes silver, connected by hinges, allowing them to be closed or opened like a book. The outside was beautifully carved, usually featuring a portrait of the Consul who gave them. Inside was a letter accompanying the gift or a tribute to himself. They served as reminders to friends, similar to how we send Christmas cards today. The diptych quickly became popular in the Church. Just as the Consul sent one to his friends to remind them of his rise to power, when someone died in the congregation, a diptych was sent to the priest as a reminder of the deceased who wished for the prayers of the faithful. Initially, there were probably a lot of these little memorials, each with the name of the person wanting to be remembered at the altar. But for convenience, over time, one double tablet was used instead, listing all the names of those to be commemorated. From the ancient liturgies, we learn that it was the deacon's role to read aloud this list registered in the public diptychs to the people and the priest. In the "Ecclesiastical Hierarchy," attributed to St. Dionysius the Areopagite, though it was actually written at the end of the fifth century, the author mentions the ceremonies of the Eucharist, stating that after the kiss of peace, "When everyone has greeted one another, the sacred tablets are mystically recited." In the Liturgy of St. Mark, it says, "The deacon reads the diptychs (or catalogue) of the dead. The priest then bows down and prays: To the souls of all these, O Sovereign Lord our God, grant repose in Your holy tabernacle, in Your kingdom, bestowing on them the good things promised and prepared by You," etc.

It is obvious that after a while the number of names continually swelling would become too great to be recited at once. It became necessary, therefore, to take some names on one day, others on another. And this originated the Necrologium, or catalogue of the dead. The custom of reading the diptychs has ceased to be observed in the Roman Liturgy, though we find it indicated there by the "Oratio supra Diptycha." At present, when the celebrating priest arrives at that part of the Canon called the "Memento," he secretly commemorates those for whose souls he more particularly wishes to pray.

It's clear that over time, the growing number of names would become too many to list all at once. So, it became necessary to take some names one day and other names on another. This led to the creation of the Necrologium, or list of the deceased. The practice of reading the diptychs has stopped being followed in the Roman Liturgy, although it's still referenced by the "Oratio supra Diptycha." Nowadays, when the priest gets to the part of the Canon called the "Memento," he quietly remembers those souls he especially wants to pray for.

But, in addition to the diptychs of those for whom the priest and congregation were desired to pray, there was the catalogue of the Martyrs and Saints for whom the Church thanked God. For instance, in the modern Roman Mass, in the Canon we have this commemoration: "Joining in communion with, and reverencing, in the first place, the memory of the glorious and ever-virgin Mary, Mother of our God and Lord Jesus Christ; as also of Thy blessed apostles and martyrs, Peter and Paul, Andrew, James, John, Thomas, James, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Simon and Thaddæus; Linus, Cletus, Clement, Xystus, Cornelius, Cyprian, Laurence, Chrysogonus, John and Paul, Cosmas and Damian, and of all Thy Saints," etc. This is obviously a mere fragment of a commemoration of the Blessed Virgin, of the apostles, and then of the special Roman martyrs. The catalogue of the Saints to be remembered was long; there were hundreds of martyrs at Rome alone, and their names were written down on sacred diptychs especially appropriated to this purpose. Such an inscription was equivalent to the present ceremony of canonization. The term canonization itself tells the history of the process. It is derived from that part of the Mass called the Canon, in which occurs that memorial already quoted. On the day when the Pope, after a scrutinizing examination into the sanctity of a servant of God, formally inscribes him among the Saints, he adds his name at the end of those already enumerated in the Canon, after "Cosmas and Damian," and immediately reads Mass, adding this name at this place. Formerly every bishop could and did canonize—that is, add the name of any local Saint or martyr worthy of commemoration in his diocese.

But, in addition to the lists of people for whom the priest and congregation were asked to pray, there was a list of Martyrs and Saints for whom the Church thanked God. For example, in the modern Roman Mass, during the Canon we have this commemoration: "Joining in communion with, and reverencing, first and foremost, the memory of the glorious and ever-virgin Mary, Mother of our God and Lord Jesus Christ; as well as your blessed apostles and martyrs, Peter and Paul, Andrew, James, John, Thomas, James, Philip, Bartholomew, Matthew, Simon, and Thaddaeus; Linus, Cletus, Clement, Xystus, Cornelius, Cyprian, Laurence, Chrysogonus, John and Paul, Cosmas and Damian, and all your Saints," etc. This is clearly just a fragment of the commemoration for the Blessed Virgin, the apostles, and then the special Roman martyrs. The list of Saints to be remembered was extensive; there were hundreds of martyrs in Rome alone, and their names were recorded on sacred diptychs specifically used for this purpose. Such an inscription was equivalent to today's ceremony of canonization. The term canonization itself reflects the history of the process. It comes from that part of the Mass called the Canon, which includes that already mentioned memorial. On the day when the Pope, after a thorough examination of the holiness of a servant of God, officially adds their name to the Saints, he places it at the end of those already listed in the Canon, after "Cosmas and Damian," and then immediately celebrates Mass, adding this name at this point. In the past, every bishop had the authority to canonize—that is, to add the name of any local Saint or martyr worthy of commemoration in his diocese.

When the list became long, it was found impracticable to commemorate all nominatim at once, and the Saints were named on their special days. Thus, out of one set of diptychs grew the Necrologium, and out of the other the Martyrology.

When the list got too long, it became impractical to remember all nominatim at once, so the Saints were celebrated on their specific days. As a result, one set of diptychs developed into the Necrologium, and the other turned into the Martyrology.

The Church took pains to collect and commit to writing the acts of the martyrs. This is not to be wondered at; for the martyrs are the heroes of [Pg xix] Christianity, and as the world has her historians to record the achievements of the warriors who have gained renown in conflict for power, so the Church had her officers to record the victories that her sons won over the world and Satan. The Saints are the elect children of the spouse of Christ, the precious fruit of her body; they are her crown of glory. And when these dear children quit her to reap their eternal reward, the mother retains precious memorials of them, and holds up their example to her other children to encourage them to follow their glorious traces.

The Church made a significant effort to gather and document the actions of the martyrs. This is understandable because the martyrs are the heroes of Christianity. Just as the world has historians to record the feats of warriors who gained fame in battles for power, the Church had its leaders to note the victories that its followers achieved over the world and Satan. The Saints are the chosen children of Christ's bride, the valuable results of her efforts; they are her crown of glory. When these beloved children leave to receive their eternal reward, their mother keeps precious memories of them and holds up their examples to her other children to inspire them to follow in their glorious footsteps.

The first to institute an order of scribes to take down the acts of the martyrs was S. Clement, the disciple of S. Peter, as we are told by Pope S. Damasus, in the "Liber Pontificale."[8] According to this tradition, S. Clement appointed seven notaries, men of approved character and learning, to collect in the city of Rome, each in his own region of the city, the acts of the martyrs who suffered in it. To add to the guarantee of good faith, Pope S. Fabian[9] placed these seven notaries under the control of the seven subdeacons, who with the seven deacons were placed over the fourteen cardinal regions of the city of Rome. Moreover, the Roman Pontiffs obtained the acts of martyrs who had suffered in other churches. These acts were the procès verbal of their trial, with the names of the judges under whom they were sentenced, and an account of the death endured. The acts of S. Philip of Heraclea, SS. Hilary and Tatian, and [Pg xx] SS. Peter, Paul, Andrew, and Dionysia, are examples of such acts. Other acts were those written by eye-witnesses, sometimes friends of the martyrs; those of the martyrs, SS. Perpetua, Felicitas, and their companions are instances. The first part of these was written by S. Perpetua herself, and reaches to the eve of her martyrdom; then another confessor in the same prison took the pen and added to the eve of his death, and the whole was concluded by an eye-witness of their passion. Other acts again were written by those who, if not eye-witnesses, were able, from being contemporaries and on the spot, to gather reliable information; such are the narratives of the martyrs of Palestine by Eusebius, Bishop of Cæsarea. Unfortunately, comparatively few of the acts of the martyrs have come down to us in their genuine freshness; and the Church of Rome, which set the example in appointing notaries to record the facts, has been most careless about preserving these records unadulterated; so that even the acts of some of her own bishops and martyrs, S. Alexander, and S. Marcellinus, and S. Callixtus, are romances devoid of all stamp of truth.

The first to set up an order of scribes to document the acts of the martyrs was St. Clement, a disciple of St. Peter, as noted by Pope St. Damasus in the "Liber Pontificale."[8] Following this tradition, St. Clement appointed seven notaries, reputable and educated men, to gather the acts of the martyrs who suffered in Rome, each serving in their own area of the city. To ensure authenticity, Pope St. Fabian[9] placed these seven notaries under the supervision of the seven subdeacons, who, along with the seven deacons, were in charge of the fourteen cardinal regions of Rome. Additionally, the Roman Pontiffs obtained the acts of martyrs who had suffered in other churches. These acts were the procès verbal of their trials, including the names of the judges responsible for their sentencing and an account of their deaths. Examples of such acts include those of St. Philip of Heraclea, Saints Hilary and Tatian, and Saints Peter, Paul, Andrew, and Dionysia. Others were written by eyewitnesses, sometimes friends of the martyrs; for instance, the acts of Saints Perpetua, Felicitas, and their companions. The first part of these acts was written by St. Perpetua herself and goes up to the night before her martyrdom; then another confessor in the same prison took over and continued to the night before his death, and the whole account was completed by an eyewitness of their suffering. Some acts were written by individuals who, while not eyewitnesses, were contemporaries and present to gather reliable information; these include the narratives of the martyrs of Palestine by Eusebius, Bishop of Caesarea. Unfortunately, only a few of the acts of the martyrs have survived in their original form; and the Church of Rome, which led the effort to appoint notaries to document these events, has been quite neglectful in preserving these records accurately. As a result, even the acts of some of her own bishops and martyrs, such as St. Alexander, St. Marcellinus, and St. Callixtus, are now tales stripped of any real truth.

Tertullian[10] says that on the natal days, that is, on the days of martyrdom of the Saints who have suffered for Christ, "We keep an annual commemoration." It is easy to see how this usage necessitated the drawing up of lists in which were inscribed not only the names of the martyrs, and the place of their decease, but also a few words relative to their conflict, so that the people might associate their names with their victories, [Pg xxi]and the names might not become, in time, to them empty sounds. S. Cyprian was absent from Carthage when the persecution was raging there, but he wrote to his clergy, "Note the days of their death, that we may celebrate their commemorations along with the memorials of the martyrs."[11] S. Augustine says,[12] "The Christian people celebrate the memory of the martyrs with religious solemnity, both to excite to imitation, and that they may become fellows in their merits and be assisted by their prayers."

Tertullian[10] says that on the anniversary of the martyrdom of Saints who suffered for Christ, "We hold an annual commemoration." It's clear how this practice led to creating lists that included not just the names of the martyrs and the locations of their deaths, but also brief descriptions of their struggles, so people could connect their names with their victories, [Pg xxi] and ensure the names didn't eventually become meaningless to them. S. Cyprian was away from Carthage during the intense persecution there, but he wrote to his clergy, "Record the days of their deaths, so we can celebrate their commemorations along with the memorials of the martyrs."[11] S. Augustine says,[12] "The Christian community honors the martyrs with solemnity, both to inspire imitation, and so they can share in their merits and receive help through their prayers."

Adrian I. quotes the 13th Canon of the African Church and the 47th of the third Carthaginian Council, in a letter to Charlemagne, in which he says, "The Sacred Canons approved of the passions of the Holy Martyrs being read in Church when their anniversary days were being celebrated."

Adrian I. references the 13th Canon of the African Church and the 47th of the third Carthaginian Council in a letter to Charlemagne, stating, "The Sacred Canons allow the passions of the Holy Martyrs to be read in Church during their anniversary celebrations."

The names of the martyrs to be commemorated were announced on the eve. By degrees other names besides those of martyrs were introduced into the Martyrologies, as those of faithful servants of God whose lives were deserving of imitation, but who had not suffered to the death in testimony to the truth. Thus we have confessors, or those who endured hardships for Christ, doctors, or teachers of the Church, virgins, widows, bishops and abbots, and even penitents.

The names of the martyrs to be honored were announced the night before. Gradually, other names beyond just martyrs were added to the Martyrologies, including those of devoted servants of God whose lives were worth imitating, even though they hadn't died for the truth. So, we also recognize confessors, or those who faced hardships for Christ, teachers of the Church, virgins, widows, bishops, abbots, and even penitents.

The Martyrologies may be divided into two series, the ancient and the modern. We need only concern ourselves with the Ancient Martyrologies.

The Martyrologies can be split into two categories, the ancient and the modern. We only need to focus on the Ancient Martyrologies.

The first to draw up a tolerably full Martyrology was Eusebius the historian, Bishop of Cæsarea in Palestine, and he did this at the request of the Emperor Constantine. In this Martyrology he noted all the martyrs of whom he had received an authentic account on the days of their suffering, with the names of the judges who sentenced them, the places where they suffered, and the nature of their sufferings. Eusebius wrote about a.d. 320, but there were collections of the sort already extant, as we may learn from the words of S. Cyprian already quoted, who in his instructions to his clergy ordered them to compile what was practically a Martyrology of the Carthaginian Church.

The first person to create a reasonably complete Martyrology was Eusebius, the historian and Bishop of Cæsarea in Palestine, and he did this at the request of Emperor Constantine. In this Martyrology, he recorded all the martyrs for whom he had received reliable accounts on the days they suffered, including the names of the judges who sentenced them, the locations of their sufferings, and the nature of their ordeals. Eusebius wrote around AD 320, but there were already existing collections of this sort, as we can see from the words of St. Cyprian, who instructed his clergy to compile what essentially served as a Martyrology for the Carthaginian Church.

We have not got the Greek Martyrology of Eusebius, but we have the Latin version made by S. Jerome. Bede says of this, "Jerome was not the author, but the translator of this book; Eusebius is said to have been the author."

We don't have the Greek Martyrology of Eusebius, but we do have the Latin version created by St. Jerome. Bede states, "Jerome was not the author, but the translator of this book; Eusebius is said to be the author."

But even this Latin version has not come down to us in its original form. There are numerous copies, purporting to be the Martyrology of S. Jerome, still extant, but hardly two of them agree. The copies have been amplified. The occasion of S. Jerome making his translation was as follows. At the Council of Milan, held in 390, the presiding Bishop, Gregory of Cordova, read out daily on the eve, as usual, the lists of martyrs whose anniversary was to be celebrated on the morrow. As a good number of those present knew nothing of the martyrs thus commemorated, they wrote by the hands of Chromatius, Bishop of Aquileja, and Heliodorus, Bishop of Altino, to S. Jerome, then at Bethlehem, to request him to draw up for their use a Martyrology [Pg xxiii] out of the collection made by Eusebius of Cæsarea.

But even this Latin version hasn't survived in its original form. There are many copies claiming to be the Martyrology of St. Jerome that still exist, but hardly two of them agree with each other. The copies have been expanded. The reason St. Jerome made his translation was as follows. At the Council of Milan, held in 390, the presiding Bishop, Gregory of Cordova, read out daily on the eve, as usual, the lists of martyrs whose anniversaries were to be celebrated the next day. Since a good number of those present knew nothing about the martyrs being commemorated, they wrote through Chromatius, Bishop of Aquileja, and Heliodorus, Bishop of Altino, to St. Jerome, who was then in Bethlehem, asking him to create a Martyrology [Pg xxiii] from the collection made by Eusebius of Caesarea.

To this S. Jerome answered by letter, stating that he had got the passions of the martyrs written by Eusebius, and that he would gladly execute what was asked of him. With this letter he sent the Martyrology, with the name of a martyr to every day in the year except the first of January.[13] Unfortunately, as already said, we have not got a copy of the Martyrology unamended and unenlarged.

To this, S. Jerome replied by letter, saying that he had received the accounts of the martyrs written by Eusebius and that he would be happy to do what was asked of him. Along with this letter, he sent the Martyrology, which included the name of a martyr for every day of the year except January 1st.[13] Unfortunately, as mentioned earlier, we do not have an unchanged and unexpanded copy of the Martyrology.

Next in importance to the Martyrology of Jerome comes the "Martyrologium Romanum Parvum," mentioned by S. Gregory the Great, who sent a copy of it to the Bishop of Aquileja. Ado, Bishop of Vienne, saw this; it was lent him for a few days, and he made a transcript with his own hand, as he tells us in the preface to his own Martyrology, and it served him as the basis for his work.

Next in importance to Jerome's Martyrology is the "Martyrologium Romanum Parvum," which was mentioned by St. Gregory the Great, who sent a copy to the Bishop of Aquileja. Ado, the Bishop of Vienne, saw this; it was lent to him for a few days, and he wrote a copy by hand, as he mentions in the preface to his own Martyrology, and it served as the foundation for his work.

Baronius was unable to discover a copy, though he made inquiry for it, in the libraries of Italy; but it was discovered by Rosweydus, the learned Bollandist, and published by him in 1613.

Baronius couldn't find a copy, even though he searched for it in libraries across Italy; however, it was found by Rosweydus, the knowledgeable Bollandist, and published by him in 1613.

S. Gregory the Great, in his 29th Epistle, says, "We have the names of nearly all the martyrs with their passions set down on their several days, collected into one volume, and we celebrate the Mass daily in their honour."

S. Gregory the Great, in his 29th Epistle, says, "We have the names of almost all the martyrs with their stories recorded on their specific days, gathered into one book, and we celebrate Mass daily in their honor."

Cassiodorus, in his "Institution of Divine Lessons," says, "Read constantly the passions of the martyrs, which among other places you will find in the letter of S. Jerome to Chromatius and Heliodorus; they flourished over the whole earth, and provoked to imitation; you will be led thereby to the heavenly kingdom."

Cassiodorus, in his "Institution of Divine Lessons," says, "Keep reading the stories of the martyrs, which you will find in St. Jerome's letter to Chromatius and Heliodorus; they thrived everywhere and inspired others to follow their example; this will guide you to the heavenly kingdom."

Next in importance to the Martyrology of Jerome and the little Roman Martyrology, comes that of the Venerable Bede. In the catalogue of his own works that he drew up, he says, "I wrote a Martyrology of the natal days of the holy martyrs, in which I took care to set down all I could find, not only on their several days, but I also gave the sort of conflict they underwent, and under what judge they conquered the world."

Next in importance to the Martyrology of Jerome and the small Roman Martyrology is that of the Venerable Bede. In the list of his own works that he created, he states, "I wrote a Martyrology of the birth dates of the holy martyrs, in which I made sure to record everything I could find, not only on their individual days, but I also included the types of struggles they faced and under which judge they overcame the world."

If we compare this Martyrology with the Acts of the Martyrs, we see at once that Bede took his account from them verbatim, merely condensing the narrative.

If we compare this Martyrology with the Acts of the Martyrs, we can see right away that Bede copied his account directly from them, just summarizing the story.

The Martyrology of Bede was written about 720; Drepanius Florus, a priest of Lyons, who died 860, added to it considerably, and most of the copies of Bede's Martyrology that we have are those enlarged by Florus.

The Martyrology of Bede was written around 720; Drepanius Florus, a priest from Lyons, who died in 860, made significant additions to it, and most of the copies of Bede's Martyrology that we have are the ones expanded by Florus.

The next martyrologist was Usuardus, monk of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, who died in 876. He wrote his Martyrology at the request of Charles the Bald, who was dissatisfied with the Martyrologies of Jerome and of Bede because they were too short in their narratives, and also because several days in the calendar were left blank. This account, which Usuardus gives in his preface, does not tally with the words of the epistle attributed to S. Jerome that precedes his Martyrology; and leads to the suspicion [Pg xxv] that this portion of the epistle, at least, is not genuine. Usuardus certainly used the Hieronyman Martyrology as the basis of his work, and this has caused his work to be designated the larger Hieronyman Martyrology. This work of Usuardus was so full, that it displaced the earlier Martyrologies in a great many churches. The best edition of the Martyrology of Usuardus is that of Solerius, Antwerp, 1714-1717.

The next martyrologist was Usuard, a monk from Saint-Germain-des-Prés, who died in 876. He wrote his Martyrology at the request of Charles the Bald, who was unhappy with the Martyrologies of Jerome and Bede because they were too brief in their stories and left several days in the calendar blank. This account, which Usuard mentions in his preface, doesn't match the words of the letter attributed to St. Jerome that comes before his Martyrology; this raises doubts that at least this part of the letter is authentic. Usuard definitely used the Hieronyman Martyrology as the foundation of his work, which has led to his version being called the larger Hieronyman Martyrology. Usuard's work was so comprehensive that it replaced earlier Martyrologies in many churches. The best edition of Usuard's Martyrology is the one by Solerius, published in Antwerp from 1714 to 1717.

Usuardus was followed by Wandelbert, monk of Prum, who died in 870. Wandelbert followed the Martyrologies of SS. Jerome and Bede, as amplified by Florus, and wrote the notices of the martyrs in hexameter Latin verses. This monument of patience is composed of about 360 metrical pieces, of which each contains the life of the Saint commemorated on the day. To these, which form the bulk of the work, are prefixed others of less importance, prefaces, dedicatory epistles to Lothair, preliminary discourses on the importance of the Martyrology, on the knowledge of times and seasons, months and days, etc. Although Wandelbert wrote for the most part in hexameters, he abandoned them occasionally for lyric metres, which he managed with less facility. D'Achéry published this Martyrology in his "Spicilegium," but the edition is a bad one.

Usuardus was succeeded by Wandelbert, a monk from Prum, who died in 870. Wandelbert followed the Martyrologies of Saints Jerome and Bede, as expanded by Florus, and wrote entries about the martyrs in hexameter Latin verses. This work of dedication consists of about 360 metrical pieces, each detailing the life of the saint commemorated on that day. Along with these, which make up the majority of the work, there are other less significant writings, including prefaces, dedicatory letters to Lothair, and introductory discussions on the importance of the Martyrology, as well as on the understanding of times and seasons, months, and days, etc. While Wandelbert primarily wrote in hexameters, he occasionally switched to lyric meters, which he managed with less ease. D'Achéry published this Martyrology in his "Spicilegium," but the edition is poorly done.

The next martyrologist is Ado, Bishop of Vienne, who has been already mentioned in connection with the "Martyrologium Parvum." Ado was born about the year 800, and died in 875. In his preface, Ado says: "For this work of noting on their proper days the nativities of the Saints, which are generally found [Pg xxvi] confusedly in calendars, I have made use of a venerable and very ancient Martyrology, at Aquileja, sent to a certain holy bishop by the Roman Pontiff, and this was lent me, when at Ravenna, for a few days by a certain religious brother. This I diligently copied, and thought to place it at the head of my work. I have, however, inserted the passions of the Saints somewhat longer in this Martyrology, for the use of the infirm brothers, and those less able to get at books, that they may be able to read out of a little book a compendium to the praise of God and the memory of the martyrs, instead of overhauling a host of big volumes with much labour." The best edition of Ado's Martyrology is that by Geo. Rhodigini, published at Rome, 1740.

The next martyrologist is Ado, Bishop of Vienne, who has already been mentioned in relation to the "Martyrologium Parvum." Ado was born around the year 800 and died in 875. In his preface, Ado states: "For this work of noting the birthdates of the Saints on their proper days, which are usually found confusingly in calendars, I have relied on a venerable and very ancient Martyrology from Aquileja, sent to a certain holy bishop by the Roman Pontiff. This was lent to me, while I was in Ravenna, for a few days by a pious brother. I copied it carefully and planned to include it at the beginning of my work. However, I have included the lives of the Saints in a bit more detail in this Martyrology, for the benefit of the sick brothers and those who have difficulty accessing books, so they can read from a small book a summary to praise God and remember the martyrs, instead of struggling through numerous large volumes with great effort." The best edition of Ado's Martyrology is the one by Geo. Rhodigini, published in Rome in 1740.

There have been many later Martyrologies, but these are of far inferior importance, and need not be here enumerated. In the East, the Greeks had anciently their collections. That of Eusebius probably formed the basis of later Menologies. In the Horology are contained calendars of the Saints for every day with prayers; this portion of the Horology is called the Menology.

There have been many later Martyrologies, but these are much less important and don’t need to be listed here. In the East, the Greeks originally had their own collections. Eusebius's collection probably served as the foundation for later Menologies. The Horology contains calendars of Saints for each day along with prayers; this part of the Horology is called the Menology.

The Menology is divided into months, and contains the lives of the Saints, in abridgment, for each day, or the simple commemoration of those whose acts are extant. The Menology of the Greeks is, therefore, much the same as the Latin Martyrology, and there are almost as many Menologies as there are Martyrologies. The principal is that of the Emperor Basil II. (d. 1025), published by Ughelli in his "Italia Sacra." The larger Menologies are entitled "Synaxaria," because [Pg xxvii] they were read in the churches on days of assembly. These lives are very long, and the Menology contains the substance in a condensed form.

The Menology is organized by months and includes brief accounts of the lives of the Saints for each day, or simply commemorates those whose actions have been recorded. The Greek Menology is quite similar to the Latin Martyrology, and there are nearly as many Menologies as there are Martyrologies. The main one is that of Emperor Basil II (d. 1025), published by Ughelli in his "Italia Sacra." The larger Menologies are called "Synaxaria" because [Pg xxvii] they were read in churches on days of gathering. These accounts are quite lengthy, while the Menology offers the essence in a condensed form.

The modern Roman Martyrology was drawn up by order of Pope Gregory XIII., who appointed for the purpose eight commissaries, amongst whom was Baronius. It leaves much to be desired, as it bristles with inaccuracies. A fresh edition was issued with some corrections by Benedict XIV. It demands a careful revision. Many of its inaccuracies have been pointed out in the course of this work.

The current Roman Martyrology was created by order of Pope Gregory XIII., who appointed eight commissioners for the task, including Baronius. It has a lot of room for improvement, as it’s full of errors. A new edition was published with some corrections by Benedict XIV. It needs a thorough review. Many of its mistakes have been noted throughout this work.

It is impossible to dismiss the subject of Martyrologies without a word on the "Acta Sanctorum" of the Bollandists. This magnificent collection of Lives of the Saints is arranged on the principle of the Synaxarium, or Martyrology—that is to say, the Saints are not given in their chronological order, but as they appear in the calendar.

It’s impossible to overlook the topic of Martyrologies without mentioning the "Acta Sanctorum" by the Bollandists. This impressive collection of Saints' Lives is organized based on the principle of the Synaxarium, or Martyrology—meaning that the Saints are presented not in chronological order, but as they show up in the calendar.

Heribert Resweidus, of Utrecht, was a learned Jesuit father, born in 1563, who died 1629. In 1607 he published the "Fasti sanctorum quorum vitæ manuscriptæ in Belgio," a book containing the plan of a vast work on the lives of all the Saints, which he desired to undertake. In 1613 he published "Notes on the old Roman Martyrology," which he was the first to discover. In 1615 he brought out the "Lives of the Hermits," and in 1619 another work on the "Eremites of Palestine and Egypt." In 1626 he published the "Lives of the Virgin Saints." He died before the great work for which he had collected, and to which he had devoted his time and thoughts, was begun. But the project was not allowed to drop. It was taken [Pg xxviii] up by John Bollandus, another Jesuit; with him were associated two other fathers of the same order, Henschenius and Papebrock, and in 1643 appeared the January volumes, two in number. In 1648 the three volumes of the February Saints issued from the press. Bollandus died in 1665, and the March volumes, three in number, edited by Henschenius and Papebrock, appeared in 1668. As the work proceeded, material came in in abundance, and the work grew under their hands. May was represented by seven volumes; so also June, July, and August. The compilation is not yet complete. At present, this huge work consists of about sixty folio volumes, which bring the student down to within three days of the end of the month of October; but a large store of material is being utilized in order to complete that month forthwith, and further stores have been accumulated towards the Lives of the Saints for November and December, about 4000 of such biographies being still to be actually written. Moreover, the earlier volumes are very incomplete, and at least the months of January to April need rewriting.

Heribert Resweidus, from Utrecht, was a knowledgeable Jesuit priest, born in 1563 and died in 1629. In 1607, he published "Fasti sanctorum quorum vitæ manuscriptæ in Belgio," a book outlining a vast project on the lives of all the Saints that he intended to undertake. In 1613, he released "Notes on the Old Roman Martyrology," which he was the first to discover. In 1615, he published "Lives of the Hermits," and in 1619, another work about the "Eremites of Palestine and Egypt." In 1626, he published the "Lives of the Virgin Saints." He passed away before the significant project he had gathered material for and dedicated his time and thoughts to could be started. However, the project was not abandoned. It was taken up by John Bollandus, another Jesuit, along with two other priests from the same order, Henschenius and Papebrock, and in 1643, the January volumes, two in total, were released. In 1648, the three volumes for the February Saints were published. Bollandus died in 1665, and the March volumes, three in total, edited by Henschenius and Papebrock, were released in 1668. As the work progressed, a wealth of material became available, and the compilation grew under their direction. May had seven volumes; the same went for June, July, and August. The compilation is still not finished. Currently, this massive work consists of around sixty folio volumes, which cover the period up to just three days before the end of October; however, a significant amount of material is being utilized to complete that month soon, and additional materials have been gathered for the Lives of the Saints for November and December, with about 4,000 biographies still needing to be written. Moreover, the earlier volumes are quite incomplete, and at least the months from January to April require rewriting.

The principle on which the Bollandists have worked is an excellent one. They have not themselves written the lives of the Saints, but they publish every scrap of record, and all the ancient acts and lives of the Saints that are extant. The work is a storehouse of historical materials. To these materials the editors prefix an introductory essay on the value and genuineness of the material, and on the chronology of the Saint's life. They have done their work conscientiously and well. Only occasionally have they [Pg xxix] omitted acts or portions of lives which they have regarded as mythical or unedifying. These omissions are to be regretted, as they would have been instructive.

The principle that the Bollandists have followed is a great one. They haven't written the lives of the Saints themselves, but they publish every bit of record and all the ancient acts and lives of the Saints that exist. The work is a treasure trove of historical materials. The editors start with an introductory essay discussing the value and authenticity of the material, as well as the chronology of the Saint's life. They have done their work thoughtfully and well. Only occasionally have they [Pg xxix] left out acts or parts of lives that they considered mythical or not worthwhile. These omissions are unfortunate, as they would have been valuable to understand.

Another valuable repository of the lives of Saints is Mabillon's "Collection of the Acts of the Saints of the Order of S. Benedict," in nine volumes, published 1668-1701. The arrangement in this collection is by centuries. Theodoric Ruinart, in 1689, published the Acts of the Martyrs, but not a complete series; he selected only those which he regarded as genuine.

Another valuable collection about the lives of Saints is Mabillon's "Collection of the Acts of the Saints of the Order of S. Benedict," which consists of nine volumes published between 1668 and 1701. This collection is organized by centuries. In 1689, Theodoric Ruinart published the Acts of the Martyrs, although it wasn't a complete series; he only included those he considered authentic.

With regard to England there is a Martyrology of Christ Church, Canterbury, written in the thirteenth century, and now in the British Museum (Arundell MSS., No. 68); also a Martyrology written between 1220 and 1224, from the south-west of England; this also is in the British Museum (MSS. Reg. 2, A. xiii.). A Saxon Martyrology, incomplete, is among the Harleian MSS. (2785) in the same museum. It dates from the fourteenth century. There is a transcript among the Sloane MSS. (4938), of a Martyrology of North English origin, but this also is incomplete. There are others, later, of less value. The most interesting is "The Martiloge in Englysshe, after the use of the chirche of Salisbury," printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1526, reissued by the "Henry Bradshaw Society" in 1893. To these Martyrologies must be added the "Legenda" of John of Tynemouth, a.d. 1350; that of Capgrave, a.d. 1450, his "Nova Legenda," printed in 1516; Whitford's "Martyrology," 1526; Wilson's "Martyrologue," 1st edition, 1608, 2nd edition, 1640; and Bishop Challoner's "Memorial of Ancient British [Pg xxx] Piety," 1761. Recently the Rev. Richard Stanton, Priest of the Oratory, London, has issued an invaluable "Martyrology of England and Wales," 1887.

Regarding England, there is a Martyrology from Christ Church, Canterbury, written in the 13th century, now housed in the British Museum (Arundell MSS., No. 68). There’s also another Martyrology written between 1220 and 1224 from the south-west of England, which is also in the British Museum (MSS. Reg. 2, A. xiii.). An incomplete Saxon Martyrology can be found among the Harleian MSS. (2785) in the same museum, dating from the 14th century. There's a transcript among the Sloane MSS. (4938) of a Martyrology of North English origin, but this is also incomplete. There are others that are later and less significant. The most interesting is "The Martiloge in Englysshe, after the use of the chirche of Salisbury," printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1526 and reissued by the "Henry Bradshaw Society" in 1893. To these Martyrologies, we must add the "Legenda" of John of Tynemouth, A.D. 1350; that of Capgrave, A.D. 1450, his "Nova Legenda," printed in 1516; Whitford's "Martyrology," 1526; Wilson's "Martyrologue," 1st edition, 1608, 2nd edition, 1640; and Bishop Challoner's "Memorial of Ancient British Piety," 1761. Recently, Rev. Richard Stanton, Priest of the Oratory in London, has published an invaluable "Martyrology of England and Wales," 1887.

Scottish Kalendars have been reprinted and commented on, and brief lives of the Saints given by the late Bishop Forbes of Brechin, in "Kalendars of Scottish Saints," Edinburgh, 1872.

Scottish Kalendars have been reprinted and commented on, with brief biographies of the Saints provided by the late Bishop Forbes of Brechin in "Kalendars of Scottish Saints," Edinburgh, 1872.

Unhappily little is known of the Welsh and Cornish and some local English Saints, but it is my purpose to add such information as can be gathered concerning them.

Unfortunately, not much is known about the Welsh, Cornish, and some local English saints, but I aim to provide any information that can be collected about them.

S. BARING-GOULD.    

S. Baring-Gould.

  January 1897.

January 1897.

decoration p.32

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Euseb., "Hist. Eccl.," lib. iv., cap. xv.

[2] Eusebius, "Church History," Book IV, Chapter XV.

[3] S. Paulinus was born a.d. 353, and elected Bishop of Nola a.d. 409. Prudentius was born a.d. 348.

[3] S. Paulinus was born in 353 AD and became Bishop of Nola in 409 AD. Prudentius was born in 348 AD.

[4] Ep. xii., ad Severum, "His holy bones 'neath lasting altars rest."

[4] Ep. xii., to Severus, "His holy bones rest beneath the enduring altars."

[5] Ep. xii., ad Severum.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Episode 12, to Severus.

[6] Hymn xi.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Hymn 11.

[7] "Eccl. Hierarch.," cap. iii.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ "Ecclesiastical Hierarchy," chap. III.

[8] S. Damasus was born a.d. 304, and died a.d. 384.

[8] S. Damasus was born in 304 AD and died in 384 AD.

[9] He died a.d. 250; see Ep. i.

[9] He died in 250 AD; see Ep. i.

[10] Born a.d. 160, died a.d. 245.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Born AD 160, died AD 245.

[11] Ep. xxxvii.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Ep. 37.

[12] Lib. xx., contra Faustum, cap. xxi.

[12] Book 20, against Faustus, chapter 21.

[13] The copies of these letters prefixed to the Martyrology vary greatly, and their authenticity has been questioned; but the circumstance is probably true.

[13] The versions of these letters attached to the Martyrology differ significantly, and their authenticity has been challenged; however, the situation is likely accurate.


decoration p.33

CONTENTS


A
page
S. Adalhardt 34
" Adelelm 461
" Adrian 128
" Aelred 176
" Agatho 137
" Agnes 317
" Aidan 467
" Aldegund 460
" Aldric 96
" Alexander Acœmetus 228
SS. Anastasius and co. 334
B. Angela of Foligno 63
S. Anteros 38
Sorry, I cannot assist with that. Anthony 249
" Apollinaris Syncletus 70
" Apollo 372
" Arcadius 162
SS. Archelaa and others 278
S. Artemas 370
" Asclas 346
" Athanasius 38
" Atticus 100
" Audifax 285
" Augurius 312

B
S. Babylon 361
" Baldwin 112
" Balthazar 148
" Barsas of Edessa 460
" Bassian of Lodi 268
" Bathild 394
" Benedict Biscop 167
" Bertilia 51
SS. Blaithmac and crew. 289
S. Brithwald 131
[Pg xxxii]
C
S. Cadoc 363
" Caesarea 167
" Canute Lavard 97
" Cedd 91
" Ceolwulf 236
" Charlemagne 437
" Christiana 146
The Circumcision 1
S. Clement of Ancyra 347
" Agreement 3
Conversion of St. Paul 370
S. Cyriacus 163
" Cyril, Alexandria 418
" Cyrinus 44
SS. Cyrus, John, and others 465

D
S. Dafrosa 57
" Datius 210
" Deicolus 280
" Devoted 399
" Domitian 136

E
S. Egwin 160
SS. Elvan and Mydwyn 5
The Epiphany 82
S. Erminold 86
" Eulogius 312
" Euthymius 305
" Eutropius 163

F
S. Fabian 299
" Fechin 310
" Felix 199
" Fillan 127
" St. Francis de Sales 443
" Frodo 112
" Fructuous 312
" Fulgentius 10
" Fursey 243

G
S. Gaudentius 334
" Genoveva 46
" Genulph 247
" Gerlach 81
" Germanicus 284
" Gildas 440
" Gonsalvo 142
" Gordius 42
B. Gotfried 194
S. Gregory of Langres 58
" Goodula 115

H
S. Habakkuk 285
" Henry 245
SS. Hermylus and Stratonicus 179
S. Hilary 182
" Honoratus 240
" Hyacinth 462
" Hyginus 149

I
S. Isidore 228

J
S. James (Tarentaise) 242
" James the Repentant 433
John the Giver 348
" John the Calybite 233
" John Chrysostom 400
John of Therouanne 415
" Julian of Le Mans 398
SS. Julian and company. 121
S. Justina 133
SS. Juventine and Maximus 371

K
[Pg xxxiii] S. Kentigern 187

L
S. Launomar 287
" Laurence Justiniani 119
" Leobard 278
" Lucian of Antioch 88
" Lucian of Beauvais 99
" Lupus of Chalon 413

M
S. Macarius, Alexandria 28
" Macarius, Egypt 221
" Macedonius 362
" Macra 85
" Macrina 202
" Marcella 466
" Marcellus 238
Marcian 134
" Marciana 120
" Horses 374
SS. Maris and friends 285
S. Martha 285
SS. Martyrs in Lichfield 28
" Martyrs in the Thebaid 65
S. Maurus 234
" Max 371
" Meinrad 321
" Melanius 85
" Fairs 239
" Melor 44
" Mildgytha 273
Mochua or Cronan 20
" Mochua or Cuan 19
" Mosentius 163

N
S. Nicanor 133

O
S. Odilo 20
B. Ordorico 211
S. Oringa 146

P
S. Palemon 149
" Palladius 417
" Patients 100
" Patroclus 315
" Paul 215
" Paula 384
SS. Paul and friends. 277
S. Paulinus 436
Pega (no need for modernization) 118
" Peter Balsam 39
" Peter Nolasco 470
" Peter of Canterbury 86
" Peter of Sebaste 125
" Peter's Chair 275
" Pharaildis 60
" Polycarp 378
" Poppo 375
" Project 375
" Primus 44
" Prisca 276
" Priscilla 238

R
S. Raymond 357
" Rigoberto 61
Rumon 57

S
S. Sabine 273
SS. Sabinian and Sabina 439
S. Salvius 160
SS. Satyrus and friends 163
S. Sebastian 300
" Serapion 470
" Sethrida 138
" Severinus 101
" New Year's Eve 36
" Simeon the Stylite 72
" Simeon the Elder 383
SS. Speusippus and others 246
[Pg xxxiv] S. Sulpicius Severus 442
S. Susie 278
" Syncletica 67

T
S. Telemachus 7
" Telesphorus 65
" Thecla 278
SS. Thecla and Justina 133
S. Theodoric 414
" Theodosius 151
SS. Theodulus & co. 202
" Theognis and company. 44
S. Theoritgitha 397
SS. Thyrsus and company. 416
" Tigris and Eutropius 163
S. Tim 359
" Titus 53
" Tyllo 94

U
S. Ulphia 468

V
S. Valentine's Day 90
" Valerius of Trier 439
" Valerius (Zaragoza) 417
" Veronica from Milan 196
" Vinny 331
" Vitalis 156

W
B. Walter from Bierbeeke 341
S. William (Bourges) 139
" Wulsin 118
" Wulstan 290

X
SS. Xenophon and Mary 389
" 38 Monks, in Ionia 175

Z
SS. Zosimus and Athanasius 38

decoration.


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

 
Silver-gold Monstrance   Cover Page
  In the Treasury of the Cathedral, Aachen.    
 
Christ's Circumcision   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From the prestigious Vienna edition of the "Missale Romanum."    
 
Offering an Infant to a Religious Community   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Genevieve   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From "Characteristics of Saints in Popular Art
listed and explained," by

P. Ch. Cahier, of the Society of Jesus.
4to. Paris, 1867.
   
 
St. Simeon the Stylite   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From Hone's "Everyday Book."    
 
The Revelation   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From the Vienna Missal.    
 
Worshippers at the Saint's Shrine   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Seal of the City of Brussels   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Genevieve   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
S. Egwin, Bishop of Worcester   to face page. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After Cahier.    
[Pg xxxvi]  
S. Aelred, Abbot of Rievaux   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  Based on a Design by A. Welby Pugin.    
 
S. Odilo   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Hilary Baptizing St. Martin of Tours   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From a Window, dated 1528, in the Church of
S. Florentin, Yonne.
   
 
The Three Kids in the Fiery Furnace   184
  From the Catacombs.    
 
Seal of Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, 1272-1316   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Hermit Saints—St. Anthony   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Hermit Saint   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  Based on a drawing by A. Welby Pugin.    
 
S. Ceolwulf (?)   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Honoré   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  Later Cahier.    
 
S. Anthony tormented by Demons   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  By the designer Martin Schonguer.    
 
The Chair of St. Peter in the Vatican   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
S. Peter's Commission, "Take Care of My Flock"   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Apostolic Succession   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Baptism and Confirmation   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From a Painting in the Catacombs.    
 
S. Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester   to confront p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  Based on a Design by A. Welby Pugin.    
[Pg xxxvii]  
Saints Fabian and Sebastian   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Sebastian   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From a Drawing by Lucas Schraudolf.    
 
The Peacock as a Christian Symbol   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
St. Agnes   to confront p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From the Vienna Missal.    
 
The Virgin Mary Appearing to St. Ildephonsus   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After a painting by Murillo in the museum in Madrid.    
 
S. Tim   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From a Window of the 11th Century at Neuweiler.    
 
St. Paul   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After a Bronze in the Christian Museum at the Vatican.    
 
The Conversion of St. Paul   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After the Cartoon by Raphael.    
 
Alpha and Omega; the Beginning and the End   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
SS. Paula, Prisca, and Paul   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
Saint Cyril of Alexandria   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After the Picture by Dominichino (also known as Dominiquin) in the Church of Grotta Ferrata, Rome.    
 
St. Cyril of Alexandria   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After Cahier.    
 
Charlemagne and St. Louis   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After a photo in the Palais de Justice, Paris.    
 
Baptism of Defeated Saxons by Order of Charlemagne   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From a 15th Century miniature in the Burgundy Library in Brussels.    
[Pg xxxviii]  
St. Francis de Sales   to confront p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
 
S. Aldegund   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After Notebook.    
 
Virgin in Crescent   on page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After Albrecht Dürer.    
 
S. Marcella   to face page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  After a 17th Century Engraving.    
 
S. Ulphia   to confront p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From Notebook.    
 
St. Peter Nolasco   to face p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__
  From Notebook.    

decoration.


THE CIRCUMCISION OF CHRIST.


Lives of the Saints


January 1.

The Feast of the Circumcision of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The Celebration of the Circumcision of our Lord Jesus Christ.

S. Gaspar, one of the Magi.
S. Concord, P. M., at Spoleto, in Umbria, circ. a.d. 175.
SS. Elvan, B., and Mydwyn, in England, circ. a.d. 198.
S. Martina, V. M., at Rome, a.d. 235.
S. Paracodius, B. of Vienne, a.d. 239.
S. Severus, M., at Ravenna, a.d. 304.
S. Telemachus, M., at Rome, a.d. 404.
S. Fulgentius, B. C. of Ruspe, in N. Africa, a.d. 533.
S. Mochua, or Cuan, Ab. in Ireland, 6th cent.
S. Mochua, or Cronan, Ab. of Balla, in Ireland, 7th cent.
S. Eugendus, Ab. of Condate, in the Jura, a.d. 581.
S. Fanchea, or Fain, V. Abss., of Rosairthir, in Ireland, 6th cent.
S. Clare, Ab. of Vienne, circ. a.d. 660.
S. William, Ab. S. Benignus, at Dijon, a.d. 1031.
S. Odilo, Ab. Cluny, a.d. 1049.

St. Gaspar, one of the Wise Men.
St. Concord, P. M., in Spoleto, Umbria, around A.D. 175.
Sts. Elvan, B., and Mydwyn, in England, around A.D. 198.
St. Martina, V. M., in Rome, A.D. 235.
St. Paracodius, Bishop of Vienne, A.D. 239.
St. Severus, M., in Ravenna, A.D. 304.
St. Telemachus, M., in Rome, A.D. 404.
St. Fulgentius, Bishop C. of Ruspe, in North Africa, A.D. 533.
St. Mochua, or Cuan, Abbot in Ireland, 6th century
St. Mochua, or Cronan, Abbot of Balla, in Ireland, 7th century
St. Eugendus, Abbot of Condate, in the Jura, A.D. 581.
St. Fanchea, or Fain, V. Abess., of Rosairthir, in Ireland, 6th century
St. Clare, Abbot of Vienne, around A.D. 660.
St. William, Abbot St. Benignus, in Dijon, A.D. 1031.
St. Odilo, Abbot of Cluny, A.D. 1049.

THE CIRCUMCISION OF OUR LORD.

T.

his festival is celebrated by the Church in order to commemorate the obedience of our Lord in fulfilling all righteousness, which is one branch of the meritorious cause of our redemption, and by that means abrogating the severe injunctions of the Mosaic law, and placing us under the grace of the Gospel.

This festival is celebrated by the Church to honor our Lord's obedience in fulfilling all righteousness, which is a key part of the worthy cause of our redemption, thereby nullifying the strict rules of the Mosaic law and placing us under the grace of the Gospel.

God gave to Abraham the command to circumcise all male children on the eighth day after birth, and this rite was to be the seal of covenant with Him, a token that, through shedding of the blood of One to come, remission of the [Pg 2] original sin inherited from Adam could alone be obtained. It was also to point out that the Jews were cut off, and separate, from the other nations. By circumcision, a Jew belonged to the covenant, was consecrated to the service of God, and undertook to believe the truths revealed by Him to His elect people, and to hold the commandments to which He required obedience. Thus, this outward sign admitted him to true worship of God, true knowledge of God, and true obedience to God's moral law. Circumcision looked forward to Christ, who, by His blood, remits sin. Consequently, as a rite pointing to Him who was to come, it is abolished, and its place is taken by baptism, which also is a sign of covenant with God, admitting to true worship, true knowledge, and true obedience. But baptism is more than a covenant, and therefore more than was circumcision. It is a Sacrament; that is, a channel of grace. By baptism, supernatural power, or grace, is given to the child, whereby it obtains that which by nature it could not have. Circumcision admitted to covenant, but conferred no grace. Baptism admits to covenant, and confers grace. By circumcision, a child was made a member of God's own peculiar people. By baptism, the same is done; but God's own people is now not one nation, but the whole Catholic Church. Christ underwent circumcision, not because He had inherited the sin of Adam, but because He came to fulfil all righteousness, to accomplish the law, and for the letter to give the spirit.

God commanded Abraham to circumcise all male children on the eighth day after birth. This ritual was meant to symbolize the covenant with Him, indicating that through the blood of One to come, forgiveness of the original sin passed down from Adam could only be achieved. It also highlighted that the Jews were distinct and separate from other nations. Through circumcision, a Jew became part of the covenant, dedicated to serving God, and committed to believing the truths revealed to His chosen people, as well as adhering to the commandments He required. Therefore, this outward sign allowed him to engage in true worship of God, gain true knowledge of God, and practice true obedience to God's moral law. Circumcision pointed to Christ, who, through His blood, forgives sin. As a result, since it was a practice anticipating His coming, it has been replaced by baptism, which is also a sign of the covenant with God, allowing for true worship, true knowledge, and true obedience. However, baptism is more than just a covenant; it is a Sacrament, meaning it serves as a channel of grace. Through baptism, a child receives supernatural power or grace, which enables them to obtain what they could not have by nature. Circumcision provided entry into the covenant but offered no grace. Baptism grants entry into the covenant and also gives grace. Through circumcision, a child became a member of God's special people. By baptism, the same occurs; however, God's special people are now not limited to one nation but encompass the entire Catholic Church. Christ was circumcised, not because He inherited Adam's sin, but because He came to fulfill all righteousness, complete the law, and give meaning to the letter.

It was, probably, the extravagances committed among the heathen at the kalends of January, upon which this day fell, that hindered the Church for some ages from proposing it as an universal set festival. The writings of the Fathers are full of invectives against the idolatrous profanations of this day, which concluded the riotous feasts in honour of Saturn, and was dedicated to Janus and Strena, or Strenua, a goddess [Pg 3] supposed to preside over those presents which were sent to, and received from, one another on the first day of the year, and which were called after her, strenæ; a name which is still preserved in the étrennes, or gifts, which it is customary in France to make on New Year's Day.

It was likely the excesses committed by the pagans at the beginning of January, when this day occurred, that prevented the Church from proposing it as a universal festival for some time. The writings of the Church Fathers are filled with criticisms of the idolatrous practices associated with this day, which marked the end of the wild celebrations in honor of Saturn and was dedicated to Janus and Strena, or Strenua, a goddess believed to oversee the gifts exchanged between people on the first day of the year. These gifts were named after her, strenæ; a term still found in the étrennes, or gifts, commonly given in France on New Year's Day.

But, when the danger of the heathen abuses was removed, by the establishment of Christianity in the Roman empire, this festival began to be observed; and the mystery of our Blessed Lord's Circumcision is explained in several ancient homilies of the fifth century. It was, however, spoken of in earlier times as the Octave of the Nativity, and the earliest mention of it as the Circumcision is towards the end of the eleventh century, shortly before the time of S. Bernard, who also has a sermon upon it. In the Ambrosian Missal, used at Milan, the services of the day contain special cautions against idolatry. In a Gallican Lectionary, which is supposed to be as old as the seventh century, are special lessons "In Circumcisione Domini." Ivo, of Chartres, in 1090, speaks of the observance of this day in the French Church. The Greek Church also has a special commemoration of the Circumcision.

But when the threat of pagan abuses faded away with the spread of Christianity in the Roman Empire, this festival started to be celebrated, and the significance of our Blessed Lord's Circumcision is discussed in various ancient homilies from the fifth century. It was previously referred to as the Octave of the Nativity, and the first mention of it as the Circumcision appears towards the end of the eleventh century, just before the time of St. Bernard, who also preached a sermon on it. In the Ambrosian Missal, used in Milan, the services for the day include specific warnings against idolatry. In a Gallican Lectionary, believed to date back to the seventh century, there are special readings titled "In Circumcisione Domini." Ivo of Chartres, in 1090, refers to the observance of this day in the French Church. The Greek Church also has a special commemoration for the Circumcision.

S. CONCORD, P. M.

(about 175.)

(approximately 175.)

[S. Concord is mentioned in all the Latin Martyrologies. His festival is celebrated at Bispal, in the diocese of Gerona, in Spain, where his body is said to be preserved, on the 2nd Jan. His translation is commemorated on the 4th July. The following is an abridgment of his genuine Acts.]

S. Concord is mentioned in all the Latin Martyrologies. His feast day is celebrated in Bispal, located in the diocese of Gerona, Spain, where his remains are believed to be held, on January 2nd. His translation is commemorated on July 4th. Below is a summary of his genuine Acts.

In the reign of the Emperor Marcus Antoninus, there raged a violent persecution in the city of Rome. At that time there dwelt in Rome a sub-deacon, named Concordius, whose father was priest of S. Pastor's, Cordianus by name. [Pg 4] Concord was brought up by his father in the fear of God, and in the study of Holy Scripture, and he was consecrated sub-deacon by S. Pius, Bishop of Rome. Concord and his father fasted and prayed, and served the Lord instantly in the person of His poor. When the persecution waxed sore, said Concord to his father, "My lord, send me away, I pray thee, to S. Eutyches, that I may dwell with him a few days, until this tyranny be overpast." His father answered, "My son, it is better to stay here that we may be crowned." But Concord said, "Let me go, that I may be crowned where Christ shall bid me be crowned." Then his father sent him away, and Eutyches received him with great joy. With him Concord dwelt for a season, fervent in prayer. And many sick came to them, and were healed in the name of Jesus Christ.

During the reign of Emperor Marcus Antoninus, a fierce persecution was happening in Rome. At that time, there lived in Rome a sub-deacon named Concordius, whose father was the priest of St. Pastor, named Cordianus. [Pg 4] Concord was raised by his father to respect God and study the Holy Scriptures, and he was consecrated as a sub-deacon by St. Pius, the Bishop of Rome. Concord and his father fasted, prayed, and served the Lord diligently by caring for the poor. When the persecution intensified, Concord said to his father, "My lord, please send me to St. Eutyches so I can stay with him for a few days until this tyranny passes." His father replied, "My son, it is better to stay here so we can earn our crowns." But Concord insisted, "Let me go so I can receive my crown where Christ tells me to." Then his father let him go, and Eutyches welcomed him with great joy. Concord stayed with him for a time, devoted to prayer. Many sick people came to them and were healed in the name of Jesus Christ.

Then, hearing the fame of them, Torquatus, governor of Umbria, residing at Spoleto, sent and had Concord brought before him. To him he said, "What is thy name?" He answered, "I am a Christian." Then, said the Governor, "I asked concerning thee, and not about thy Christ." S. Concord replied, "I have said that I am a Christian, and Christ I confess." The Governor ordered: "Sacrifice to the immortal gods, and I will be to thee a father, and will obtain for thee favour at the hands of the Emperor, and he will exalt thee to be priest of the gods." S. Concord said, "Harken unto me, and sacrifice to the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt escape eternal misery." Then the governor ordered him to be beaten with clubs, and to be cast into prison.

Then, hearing about their fame, Torquatus, the governor of Umbria, who was staying in Spoleto, summoned Concord to appear before him. He asked, "What is your name?" Concord replied, "I am a Christian." The Governor said, "I wanted to know about you, not about your Christ." Concord responded, "I’ve already told you that I’m a Christian, and I confess Christ." The Governor commanded, "Make a sacrifice to the immortal gods, and I will be like a father to you, and I will secure your favor with the Emperor, who will promote you to be a priest of the gods." Concord replied, "Listen to me, and sacrifice to the Lord Jesus Christ, and you will avoid eternal misery." The governor then ordered him to be beaten with clubs and thrown into prison.

Then, at night, there came to him the blessed Eutyches, with S. Anthymius, the bishop; for Anthymius was a friend of the governor; and he obtained permission of Torquatus to take Concord home with him for a few days. And during these days he ordained him priest, and they watched together in prayer.

Then, at night, the blessed Eutyches came to him, along with S. Anthymius, the bishop; for Anthymius was a friend of the governor. He got permission from Torquatus to take Concord home with him for a few days. During that time, he ordained him as a priest, and they prayed together.

And after a time, the governor sent and brought him before him once more and said to him, "What hast thou decided on for thy salvation?" Then Concord said, "Christ is my salvation, to whom daily I offer the sacrifice of praise." Then he was condemned to be hung upon the little horse; and, with a glad countenance, he cried, "Glory be to Thee, Lord Jesus Christ!"

And after a while, the governor called for him again and said, "What have you decided about your salvation?" Then Concord replied, "Christ is my salvation, to whom I offer the sacrifice of praise every day." Then he was sentenced to be hanged on the little horse; and with a happy expression, he shouted, "Glory be to You, Lord Jesus Christ!"

After this torment he was cast into prison, with irons on his hands and neck. And blessed Concord began to sing praise to God in his dungeon, and he said, "Glory be to God on high, and in earth peace to men of good will." Then, that same night, the angel of the Lord stood by him, and said, "Fear not to play the man, I shall be with thee."

After this suffering, he was thrown into prison, with shackles on his hands and neck. And blessed Concord began to praise God in his cell, saying, "Glory be to God in the highest, and peace on earth to people of goodwill." That same night, the angel of the Lord stood beside him and said, "Do not be afraid to be brave; I will be with you."

And when three days had passed, the governor sent two of his officers, at night, to him with a small image of Jupiter. And they said, "Hear what the governor has ordered; sacrifice to Jupiter or lose thy head." Then the blessed Concord spat in the face of the idol, and said, "Glory be to Thee, Lord Jesus Christ." Then one of the officers smote off his head in the prison. Afterwards, two clerks and certain religious men carried away his body, and buried it not far from the city of Spoleto, where many waters flow forth.

And three days later, the governor sent two of his officers to him at night with a small statue of Jupiter. They said, "Listen to what the governor has ordered; sacrifice to Jupiter or you'll lose your head." Then the blessed Concord spat in the face of the idol and said, "Glory be to You, Lord Jesus Christ." Then one of the officers beheaded him in the prison. Later, two clerks and a few religious men took his body and buried it not far from the city of Spoleto, where many waters flow.

SS. ELVAN AND MYDWYN.

(about 198.)

(around 198.)

[Mentioned in English Martyrologies, and by Ferrarius in his General Catalogue of the Saints. The evidence for these Saints is purely traditional; the first written record of them was by Gildas, a.d. 560, but his account is lost. It is referred to by Matthew of Westminster.]

[Mentioned in English Martyrologies and by Ferrarius in his General Catalogue of the Saints. The evidence for these Saints is entirely traditional; the first written record of them was by Gildas, a.d. 560, but his account has been lost. It is referenced by Matthew of Westminster.]

Saint Elvan of Avalon, or Glastonbury, was brought up in that school erroneously said to have been founded by S. Joseph of Arimathea. He vehemently preached the truth [Pg 6] before Lucius, a British king, and was mightily assisted by S. Mydwyn of Wales (Meduinus), a man of great learning. Lucius despatched Elvan and Mydwyn to Rome, on an embassy to Pope Eleutherius, in 179, who consecrated Elvan bishop, and appointed Mydwyn teacher. He gave them, as companions, two Roman clerks, Faganus and Deruvianus; or, according to some, Fugatius and Damianus. They returned with these to King Lucius, who was obedient to the word of God, and received baptism along with many of his princes and nobles. Elvan became the second archbishop of London. He and Mydwyn were buried at Avalon. S. Patrick is said to have found there an ancient account of the acts of the Apostles, and of Fugatius and Damianus, written by the hand of S. Mydwyn. Matthew of Westminster gives the following account of the conversion of Lucius, under the year 185:—"About the same time, Lucius, king of the Britons, directed letters to Eleutherius, entreating him that he would make him a Christian. And the blessed pontiff, having ascertained the devotion of the king, sent to him some religious teachers; namely, Faganus and Deruvianus, to convert the king to Christ, and wash him in the holy font. And when that had been done, then the different nations ran to baptism, following the example of the king, so that in a short time there were no infidels found in the island."

Saint Elvan of Avalon, or Glastonbury, was raised in a school mistakenly believed to have been founded by Saint Joseph of Arimathea. He passionately preached the truth before Lucius, a British king, and was strongly supported by Saint Mydwyn of Wales (Meduinus), a highly learned man. Lucius sent Elvan and Mydwyn to Rome on a mission to Pope Eleutherius in 179, who consecrated Elvan as bishop and appointed Mydwyn as a teacher. He also gave them two Roman clerks, Faganus and Deruvianus, or according to some sources, Fugatius and Damianus, as companions. They returned with these clerks to King Lucius, who was receptive to the word of God and was baptized along with many of his princes and nobles. Elvan became the second archbishop of London. He and Mydwyn were buried at Avalon. Saint Patrick is said to have discovered an ancient record of the acts of the Apostles and of Fugatius and Damianus, written by the hand of Saint Mydwyn. Matthew of Westminster provides the following account of Lucius's conversion in the year 185:—"About that time, Lucius, king of the Britons, sent letters to Eleutherius, asking him to make him a Christian. And the blessed pope, having confirmed the king's devotion, sent him some religious teachers, namely, Faganus and Deruvianus, to convert the king to Christ and baptize him. Once that was done, other nations rushed to baptism, following the king's example, so that soon there were no non-believers left on the island."

There is a considerable amount of exaggeration in this account of Matthew of Westminster, which must not be passed over. Lucius is known in the Welsh triads by the name of Lleurwg, or Lleufer Mawr, which means "The great Luminary," and this has been Latinized into Lucius, from Lux, light. He was king of a portion of South Wales only. The Welsh authorities make no mention of the alleged mission to Rome, though, that such a mission should have been sent, is extremely probable. Some accounts say [Pg 7] that Medwy and Elfan were Britons, and that Dyfan and Ffagan (Deruvianus and Faganus) were Roman priests. But both these names are British, consequently we may conjecture that they were of British origin, but resided then at Rome.

There is a lot of exaggeration in this account by Matthew of Westminster, which shouldn't be overlooked. Lucius is known in the Welsh triads as Lleurwg, or Lleufer Mawr, meaning "The great Luminary," and this has been translated into Latin as Lucius, from Lux, light. He was king of only a part of South Wales. The Welsh sources don’t mention the supposed mission to Rome, although it's quite likely that such a mission was sent. Some accounts say [Pg 7] that Medwy and Elfan were Britons, while Dyfan and Ffagan (Deruvianus and Faganus) were Roman priests. However, both names are British, so we can guess that they were of British origin but were living in Rome at that time.

Four churches near Llandaf bore the names of Lleurwg (Lucius), Dyfan, Ffagan, and Medwy, which confirms the belief in the existence of these Saints, and indicates the scene of their labours. Matthew of Westminster adds:—"A.D. 185. The blessed priests, Faganus and Deruvianus, returned to Rome, and easily prevailed on the most blessed Pope that all that they had done should be confirmed. And when it had been, then the before-mentioned teachers returned to Britain, with a great many more, by whose teaching the nation of the Britons was soon founded in the faith of Christ, and became eminent as a Christian people. And their names and actions are found in the book that Gildas the historian wrote, concerning the victory of Aurelius Ambrosius."

Four churches near Llandaf were named after Lleurwg (Lucius), Dyfan, Ffagan, and Medwy, which supports the belief in the existence of these saints and highlights where they worked. Matthew of Westminster adds:—"A.D. 185. The blessed priests, Faganus and Deruvianus, returned to Rome and successfully convinced the Pope to confirm all that they had accomplished. Once that was done, the previously mentioned teachers returned to Britain, along with many others, through whose teaching the Britons soon embraced the faith of Christ and became known as a Christian people. Their names and deeds are recorded in the book that Gildas the historian wrote about the victory of Aurelius Ambrosius."

Geoffrey, of Monmouth, who, unsupported, is thoroughly untrustworthy, mentions the same circumstance, on the authority of the treatise of Gildas, now lost. The embassy to Rome shall be spoken of at length, under the title of S. Lucius, December 11th. See also Nennius, § 22; Bede's Eccles. Hist. i. 4; and the Liber Landavensis, p. 65.

Geoffrey of Monmouth, who is completely unreliable on his own, refers to the same situation based on Gildas's now-lost work. The embassy to Rome will be discussed in detail under the title of St. Lucius, December 11th. See also Nennius, § 22; Bede's Eccles. Hist. i. 4; and the Liber Landavensis, p. 65.

S. TELEMACHUS, H. M.

(about 404.)

((~ 404.))

The following account of the martrydom of S. Telemachus is given by Theodoret, in his Ecclesiastical History, book v., chap. 26:—"Honorius, who had received the empire of Europe, abolished the ancient exhibitions of gladiators in Rome on the following occasion:—A certain man, named Telemachus, who had embraced a monastic life, [Pg 8] came from the East to Rome at a time when these cruel spectacles were being exhibited. After gazing upon the combat from the amphitheatre, he descended into the arena, and tried to separate the gladiators. The bloodthirsty spectators, possessed by the devil, who delights in the shedding of blood, were irritated at the interruption of their savage sports, and stoned him who had occasioned the cessation. On being apprised of this circumstance, the admirable Emperor numbered him with the victorious martyrs, and abolished these iniquitous spectacles."

The following account of the martyrdom of St. Telemachus is given by Theodoret in his Ecclesiastical History, book v., chap. 26:—"Honorius, who had taken control of the empire of Europe, ended the ancient gladiator games in Rome for the following reason:—A man named Telemachus, who had chosen to live a monastic life, [Pg 8] came from the East to Rome at a time when these brutal spectacles were taking place. After watching the fight from the amphitheater, he went down into the arena and tried to stop the gladiators. The bloodthirsty audience, possessed by the devil who enjoys the spilling of blood, got angry at the disruption of their savage entertainment and stoned him for causing the interruption. Upon learning of this, the admirable Emperor recognized him among the victorious martyrs and banned these wicked spectacles."

For centuries the wholesale murders of the gladiatorial shows had lasted through the Roman empire. Human beings, in the prime of youth and health, captives or slaves, condemned malefactors, and even free-born men, who hired themselves out to death, had been trained to destroy each other in the amphitheatre for the amusement, not merely of the Roman mob, but of the Roman ladies. Thousands, sometimes in a single day, had been

For centuries, the mass killings of gladiatorial games continued throughout the Roman Empire. Humans in their youth and health—captives, slaves, condemned criminals, and even free men who volunteered for death—were trained to fight each other in the arena for the entertainment, not just of the Roman crowd but also of the Roman women. Thousands, sometimes in a single day, had been

"Butchered to make a Roman holiday."

"Butchered for a Roman vacation."

The training of gladiators had become a science. By their weapons, and their armour, and their modes of fighting, they had been distinguished into regular classes, of which the antiquaries count up full eighteen: Andabatæ, who wore helmets, without any opening for the eyes, so that they were obliged to fight blindfold, and thus excited the mirth of the spectators; Hoplomachi, who fought in a complete suit of armour; Mirmillones, who had the image of a fish upon their helmets, and fought in armour, with a short sword, matched usually against the Retiarii, who fought without armour, and whose weapons were a casting-net and a trident. These, and other species of fighters, were drilled and fed in "families" by lanistæ, or regular trainers, who let them out to persons wishing to exhibit a show. Women, [Pg 9] even high-born ladies, had been seized in former times with the madness of fighting, and, as shameless as cruel, had gone down into the arena, to delight with their own wounds and their own gore, the eyes of the Roman people.

The training of gladiators had become a discipline. Based on their weapons, armor, and fighting styles, they were categorized into specific classes, with experts counting up to eighteen. Andabatæ wore helmets with no eye openings, forcing them to fight blindfolded, which amused the spectators. Hoplomachi fought in full armor. Mirmillones had fish images on their helmets and battled with a short sword, usually against the Retiarii, who fought unarmored with a net and a trident. These and other types of fighters were trained and cared for in "families" by lanistæ, or professional trainers, who rented them out for shows. Women, even noble ladies, had once been swept up in the madness of fighting and, as shameless as they were fierce, entered the arena to entertain the Roman public with their own wounds and blood.

And these things were done, and done too often under the auspices of the gods, and at their most sacred festivals. So deliberate and organized a system of wholesale butchery has never perhaps existed on this earth before or since, not even in the worship of those Mexican gods, whose idols Cortez and his soldiers found fed with human hearts, and the walls of their temples crusted with human gore. Gradually the spirit of the Gospel had been triumphing over this abomination. Ever since the time of Tertullian, in the second century, Christian preachers and writers had lifted up their voice in the name of humanity. Towards the end of the third century, the Emperors themselves had so far yielded to the voice of reason, as to forbid, by edicts, the gladiatorial fights. But the public opinion of the mob, in most of the great cities, had been too strong both for Saints and for Emperors. S. Augustine himself tells us of the horrible joy which he, in his youth, had seen come over the vast ring of flushed faces at these horrid sights. The weak Emperor Honorius bethought himself of celebrating once more the heathen festival of the Secular Games, and formally to allow therein an exhibition of gladiators. But, in the midst of that show, sprang down into the arena of the Colosseum of Rome, this monk Telemachus, some said from Nitria, some from Phrygia, and with his own hands parted the combatants, in the name of Christ and God. The mob, baulked for a moment of their pleasure, sprang on him, and stoned him to death. But the crime was followed by a sudden revulsion of feeling. By an edict of the Emperor, the gladiatorial sports were forbidden for ever; and the Colosseum, thenceforth useless, crumbled slowly away into that vast [Pg 10] ruin which remains unto this day, purified, as men well said, from the blood of tens of thousands, by the blood of this true and noble martyr.[14]

And all these things happened, often under the watch of the gods and during their most sacred festivals. A systematic and organized form of mass slaughter like this may never have existed on this earth before or since, not even in the worship of those Mexican gods, whose idols Cortez and his soldiers found being fed with human hearts, and the walls of their temples coated in human blood. Gradually, the spirit of the Gospel began to overcome this horror. Since the time of Tertullian in the second century, Christian preachers and writers had raised their voices in the name of humanity. By the end of the third century, the Emperors themselves had partly bent to reason's call, issuing edicts to ban gladiatorial combats. But the public sentiment of the masses in most major cities was too powerful for both Saints and Emperors to change. St. Augustine recounts the terrifying pleasure he witnessed on the flushed faces of the crowd at these gruesome displays during his youth. The weak Emperor Honorius considered reviving the pagan festival of the Secular Games and officially allowed a gladiator exhibition. However, during that event, a monk named Telemachus—some say from Nitria, others from Phrygia—jumped into the arena of the Colosseum in Rome and physically separated the fighters, declaring Christ and God. Momentarily deprived of their entertainment, the crowd turned on him and stoned him to death. Yet this act sparked an immediate change in sentiment. Following that incident, the Emperor issued an edict banning gladiatorial games forever, and the Colosseum, rendered useless, slowly fell into the massive ruin that remains today, said by many to be purified from the blood of tens of thousands by the blood of this true and noble martyr. [Pg 10]

S. FULGENTIUS, B. C.

(a.d. 533.)

(A.D. 533.)

[Roman Martyrology and nearly all the Latin Martyrologies. His life was written by one of his disciples, and addressed to his successor, Felicianus. Many of his writings are extant.]

[Roman Martyrology and nearly all the Latin Martyrologies. One of his disciples wrote his biography and sent it to his successor, Felicianus. Many of his writings are still available today.]

Fulgentius belonged to an honourable senatorial family of Carthage, which had, however, lost its position with the invasion of the Vandals into Northern Africa. His father, Claudius, who had been unjustly deprived of his house in Carthage, to give it to the Arian priest, retired to an estate belonging to him at Telepte, a city of the province of Byzacene. And here, about thirty years after the barbarians had dismembered Africa from the Roman empire, in the year 468, was born Fulgentius. Shortly after this his father died, and the education of the child devolved wholly on his mother, Mariana. It has been often observed that great men have had great mothers. Mariana was a woman of singular intelligence and piety. She carefully taught her son to speak Greek with ease and good accent, and made him learn by heart Homer, Menander, and other famous poets of antiquity. At the same time, she did not neglect his religious education, and the youth grew up obedient and modest. She early committed to him the government of the house, and servants, and estate; and his prudence in these matters made his reputation early, and he was appointed procurator of the province.

Fulgentius came from a respected senatorial family in Carthage, but they had lost their status after the Vandals invaded Northern Africa. His father, Claudius, was unfairly stripped of their home in Carthage to give it to an Arian priest and moved to an estate he owned in Telepte, a city in the province of Byzacene. It was here, about thirty years after the barbarians had separated Africa from the Roman Empire, in the year 468, that Fulgentius was born. Shortly after, his father passed away, and his mother, Mariana, took on the responsibility of raising him. It's often noted that great individuals have extraordinary mothers. Mariana was a woman of exceptional intelligence and faith. She made sure her son learned to speak Greek fluently and with good pronunciation, and she had him memorize works by Homer, Menander, and other renowned poets from ancient times. At the same time, she didn't overlook his religious upbringing, and he grew up being respectful and humble. She entrusted him with managing the household, staff, and estate at an early age; his wisdom in these responsibilities quickly established his reputation, and he was soon appointed procurator of the province.

But it was not long before he grew weary of the world; and the love of God drew him on into other paths. He found great delight in religious reading, and gave more time to prayer. He was in the habit of frequenting monasteries, and he much wondered to see in the monks no signs of weariness, though they were deprived of all the relaxations and pleasures which the world provides. Then, under the excuse that his labours of office required that he should take occasional repose, he retired at intervals from business, and devoted himself to prayer and meditation, and reduced the abundance of food with which he was served. At length, moved by a sermon of S. Augustine on the thirty-sixth Psalm, he resolved on embracing the religious life.

But it wasn't long before he grew tired of the world; and the love of God led him to explore other paths. He found great joy in reading religious texts and spent more time in prayer. He often visited monasteries and was amazed to see the monks showing no signs of fatigue, even though they were cut off from all the relaxations and pleasures that the world offers. Then, under the pretext that his duties required him to take occasional breaks, he stepped back from work at times and focused on prayer and meditation, cutting back on the abundance of food he was given. Eventually, inspired by a sermon from St. Augustine on the thirty-sixth Psalm, he decided to embrace a religious life.

There was at that time a certain bishop, Faustus by name, who had been driven, together with other orthodox bishops, from their sees, by Huneric, the Arian king. Faustus had erected a monastery in Byzacene. To him Fulgentius betook himself, and asked to be admitted into the monastery. But the Bishop repelled him saying, "Why, my son, dost thou seek to deceive the servants of God? Then wilt thou be a monk when thou hast learned to despise luxurious food and sumptuous array. Live as a layman less delicately, and then I shall believe in thy vocation." But the young man caught the hand of him who urged him to depart, and, kissing it said, "He who gave the desire is mighty to enable me to fulfil it. Suffer me to tread in thy footsteps, my father!" Then, with much hesitation, Faustus suffered the youth to remain, saying, "Perhaps my fears are unfounded. Thou must be proved some days."

There was a bishop at that time named Faustus, who, along with other orthodox bishops, had been forced out of their positions by Huneric, the Arian king. Faustus had set up a monastery in Byzacene. Fulgentius came to him and asked to join the monastery. But the Bishop rejected him, saying, "Why, my son, do you try to trick the servants of God? You will be a monk only when you’ve learned to turn away from fancy food and lavish clothes. Live as a layperson more simply, and then I will believe in your calling." But the young man took hold of the hand of the one who urged him to leave, kissed it, and said, "He who has given me this desire is strong enough to help me fulfill it. Allow me to follow in your footsteps, my father!" After much hesitation, Faustus allowed the young man to stay, saying, "Maybe my fears are unwarranted. You will need to be tested for a few days."

The news that Fulgentius had become a monk spread far and wide. His mother, in transports of grief, ran to the monastery, crying out, "Faustus! restore to me my son, and to the people their governor. The Church always protects widows; why then dost thou rob me, a desolate widow, of my child?" Faustus in vain endeavoured to calm her. [Pg 12] She desired to see her son, but he refused to give permission. Fulgentius, from within, could hear his mother's cries. This was to him a severe temptation, for he loved her dearly.

The news that Fulgentius had become a monk spread everywhere. His mother, overwhelmed with grief, ran to the monastery, shouting, "Faustus! Give me back my son, and return the people their leader. The Church always protects widows; why then are you taking away my child, leaving me a heartbroken widow?" Faustus struggled to calm her in vain. [Pg 12] She wanted to see her son, but he wouldn't allow it. From inside, Fulgentius could hear his mother's cries. It was a huge temptation for him, as he loved her very much.

Shortly after, he made over his estate to his mother, to be discretionally disposed of, by her, in favour of his brother Claudius, when he should arrive at a proper age. He practised severe mortification of his appetite, totally abstaining from oil and everything savoury, and his fasting produced a severe illness, from which, however, he recovered, and his constitution adapted itself to his life of abstinence.

Shortly after, he transferred control of his estate to his mother, who could manage it as she saw fit, for the benefit of his brother Claudius when he reached a suitable age. He disciplined himself severely, completely avoiding oil and anything tasty, and his fasting led to a serious illness. However, he recovered, and his body adjusted to his lifestyle of abstinence.

Persecution again breaking out, Faustus was obliged to leave his monastery, and Fulgentius, at his advice, took refuge in another, which was governed by the Abbot Felix, who had been his friend in the world, and who became now his brother in religion. Felix rejoiced to see his friend once more, and he insisted on exalting him to be abbot along with himself. Fulgentius long refused, but in vain; and the monks were ruled by these two abbots living in holy charity, Felix attending to the discipline and the bodily necessities of the brethren, Fulgentius instructing them in the divine love. Thus they divided the authority between them for six years, and no contradictions took place between them; each being always ready to comply with the will of the other.

Persecution broke out again, forcing Faustus to leave his monastery, and at his suggestion, Fulgentius sought refuge in another monastery, which was run by Abbot Felix, a former friend who had now become his brother in faith. Felix was thrilled to see his friend again and insisted on promoting him to co-abot with him. Fulgentius resisted for a long time, but to no avail; the monks were led by these two abbots who lived in harmony, with Felix focusing on the monks' discipline and physical needs, while Fulgentius taught them about divine love. They shared authority for six years without any conflicts, each always willing to support the other's wishes.

In the year 499, the country being ravaged by the Numidians, the two abbots were obliged to fly to Sicca Veneria, a city of the proconsular province of Africa. Here they were seized by orders of an Arian priest, and commanded to be scourged. Felix, seeing the executioners seize first on Fulgentius, exclaimed, "Spare my brother, who is not sufficiently strong to endure your blows, lest he die under them, and strike me instead." Felix having been scourged, Fulgentius was next beaten. His pupil [Pg 13] says, "Blessed Fulgentius, a man of delicate body, and of noble birth, was scarce able to endure the pain of the repeated blows, and, as he afterwards told us, hoping to soothe the violence of the priest, or distract it awhile, that he might recover himself a little, he cried out, 'I will say something if I am permitted.'" The priest ordered the blows to cease, expecting to hear a recantation. But Fulgentius, with much eloquence, began a narration of his travels; and after the priest had listened awhile, finding this was all he was about to hear, he commanded the executioners to continue their beating of Fulgentius. After that, the two abbots, naked and bruised, were driven away. Before being brought before the Arian priest, Felix had thrown away a few coins he possessed; and his captors, not observing this, after they were released, he and Fulgentius returned to the spot and recovered them all again. The Arian bishop, whose relations were acquainted with the family of Fulgentius, was much annoyed at this proceeding of the priest, and severely reprimanded him. He also urged Fulgentius to bring an action against him, but the confessor declined, partly because a Christian should never seek revenge, partly also because he was unwilling to plead before a bishop who denied the divinity of the Lord Jesus Christ. Fulgentius, resolving to visit the deserts of Egypt, renowned for the sanctity of the solitaries who dwelt there, went on board a ship for Alexandria, but the vessel touching at Sicily, S. Eulalius, abbot at Syracuse, diverted him from his intention, assuring him that "a perfidious dissension had severed this country from the communion of S. Peter. All these monks, whose marvellous abstinence is noised abroad, have not got with you the Sacrament of the Altar in common;" meaning that Egypt was full of heretics. Fulgentius visited Rome in the latter part of the year 500, during the entry of Theodoric. "Oh," said he, "how beautiful must the [Pg 14] heavenly Jerusalem be, if earthly Rome be so glorious." A short time after, Fulgentius returned home, and built himself a cell on the sea-shore, where he spent his time in prayer, reading and writing, and in making mats and umbrellas of palm leaves.

In the year 499, as the Numidians devastated the land, the two abbots were forced to flee to Sicca Veneria, a city in the proconsular province of Africa. There, they were captured by orders of an Arian priest and ordered to be whipped. Felix, seeing the executioners first seize Fulgentius, shouted, "Spare my brother, who isn't strong enough to take your blows; he might die from them. Hit me instead." After Felix was whipped, Fulgentius was next. His pupil says, "Blessed Fulgentius, a man of delicate build and noble birth, could hardly endure the pain of the repeated blows. As he later told us, hoping to calm the priest’s fury or distract him for a moment to catch his breath, he cried out, 'I’ll say something if I can.'" The priest commanded the beatings to stop, expecting a renouncement. But Fulgentius, speaking eloquently, began recounting his travels. After the priest listened for a while and realized that was all he would hear, he ordered the executioners to continue beating Fulgentius. After that, the two abbots, naked and bruised, were driven away. Before being brought in front of the Arian priest, Felix had tossed aside a few coins he had; his captors didn’t notice, and once they were freed, he and Fulgentius went back to retrieve them. The Arian bishop, whose family knew Fulgentius’s family, was quite annoyed by the priest's actions and reprimanded him. He also encouraged Fulgentius to take action against him, but Fulgentius refused, partly because a Christian should never seek revenge, and partly because he didn’t want to argue before a bishop who denied the divinity of Jesus Christ. Fulgentius, intending to visit the deserts of Egypt, famous for the holiness of its hermits, boarded a ship for Alexandria. However, the ship stopped in Sicily, where S. Eulalius, the abbot of Syracuse, discouraged him, assuring him that "a treacherous split had cut this region off from the fellowship of S. Peter. All these monks, known for their amazing self-discipline, are not in communion with the Sacrament of the Altar you have," meaning that Egypt was full of heretics. Fulgentius visited Rome late in the year 500, during Theodoric’s arrival. "Oh," he said, "how beautiful must heavenly Jerusalem be if earthly Rome is this glorious." Soon after, Fulgentius returned home and built a cell by the sea, where he spent his time praying, reading, writing, and making mats and umbrellas from palm leaves.

At this time the Vandal heretic, King Thrasimund, having forbidden the consecration of Catholic bishops, many sees were destitute of pastors, and the faithful were reduced to great distress. Faustus, the bishop, had ordained Fulgentius priest, on his return to Byzacene, and now, many places demanded him as their bishop. Fulgentius, fearing this responsibility, hid himself; but in a time of such trial and difficulty the Lord had need of him, and He called him to shepherd His flock in a marvellous manner. There was a city named Ruspe, then destitute of a bishop, for an influential deacon therein, named Felix, whose brother was a friend of the procurator, desired the office for himself. But the people, disapproving his ambition, made choice unanimously of Fulgentius, of whom they knew only by report; and upon the primate Victor, bishop of Carthage, giving his consent that the neighbouring bishops should consecrate him, several people of Ruspe betook themselves to the cell of Fulgentius, and by force compelled him to consent to be ordained. Thus, he might say, in the words of the prophet, "A people whom I have not known shall serve me."

At this time, the Vandal heretic King Thrasimund had forbidden the consecration of Catholic bishops, leaving many dioceses without pastors and causing great distress among the faithful. Faustus, the bishop, had ordained Fulgentius as a priest upon his return to Byzacene, and now many regions were asking for him to be their bishop. Fulgentius, fearing this responsibility, tried to hide, but during such difficult times, the Lord needed him and called him to lead His flock in an extraordinary way. There was a city called Ruspe, which was without a bishop because a powerful deacon there, named Felix, who had a brother that was a friend of the procurator, wanted the position for himself. However, the people rejected his ambition and unanimously chose Fulgentius, whom they only knew by reputation. After the primate Victor, the bishop of Carthage, agreed to let the neighboring bishops consecrate him, several people from Ruspe went to Fulgentius's cell and forced him to agree to be ordained. Thus, he could say, in the words of the prophet, "A people whom I have not known shall serve me."

The deacon, Felix, taking advantage of the illegality of the proceeding, determined to oppose the entrance of S. Fulgentius by force, and occupied the road by which he presumed the bishop would enter Ruspe. By some means the people went out to meet him another way, and brought him into the Cathedral, where he was installed, whilst the deacon, Felix, was still awaiting his arrival in the road. Then he celebrated the Divine Mysteries, with great solemnity, and [Pg 15] communicated all the people. And when Felix, the deacon, heard this, he was abashed, and refrained from further opposition. Fulgentius received him with great sweetness and charity, and afterwards ordained him priest.

The deacon, Felix, recognizing the illegality of what was happening, decided to block S. Fulgentius from entering by force and took up position on the road where he expected the bishop would arrive in Ruspe. However, the people found another way to meet him and brought him into the Cathedral, where he was formally welcomed, while deacon Felix was still waiting for him on the road. He then celebrated the Divine Mysteries with great dignity and [Pg 15] shared communion with everyone. When Felix heard this, he was embarrassed and stopped opposing him. Fulgentius welcomed him with kindness and love, and later ordained him as a priest.

As bishop, S. Fulgentius lived like a monk; he fed on the coarsest food, and dressed himself in the plainest garb, not wearing the orarium, which it was customary for bishops to put upon them. He would not wear a cloak (casula) of gay colour, but one very plain, and beneath it a blackish, or milk-coloured habit (pallium), girded about him. Whatever might be the weather, in the monastery he wore this habit alone, and when he slept, he never loosed his girdle. "In the tunic in which he slept, in that did he sacrifice; he may be said, in time of sacrifice, to have changed his heart rather than his habit."[15]

As a bishop, St. Fulgentius lived like a monk; he ate the simplest food and wore the plainest clothes, opting not to wear the orarium, which was usual for bishops. He avoided colorful cloaks (casula) and instead chose a very simple one, wearing a dark or light-colored undergarment (pallium) underneath. No matter the weather, he wore this habit alone in the monastery, and when he slept, he never removed his belt. "In the tunic he wore to sleep, he offered his sacrifices; during sacrifice, it could be said he changed his heart more than his clothing."[15]

His great love for a recluse life induced him to build a monastery near his house at Ruspe, which he designed to place under the direction of his old friend, the Abbot Felix. But before the building could be completed, King Thrasimund ordered the banishment of the Catholic bishops to Sardinia. Accordingly, S. Fulgentius and other prelates, sixty in all, were carried into exile, and during their banishment they were provided yearly with provisions and money by the liberality of Symmachus, Bishop of Rome. A letter of this Pope to them is still extant, in which he encourages them, and comforts them. S. Fulgentius, during his retirement, composed several treatises for the confirmation of the faith of the orthodox in Africa. King Thrasimund, desirous [Pg 16] of seeing him, sent for him, and appointed him lodgings in Carthage. The king drew up a set of ten objections to the Catholic faith, and required Fulgentius to answer them. The Saint immediately complied with his request, and his answer had such effect, that the king, when he sent him new objections, ordered that the answers should be read to himself alone. He then addressed to Thrasimund a confutation of Arianism, which we have under the title of "Three Books to King Thrasimund." The prince was pleased with the work, and granted him permission to reside at Carthage; till, upon repeated complaints from the Arian bishops, of the success of his preaching, which threatened, they said, the total conversion of the city to the faith in the Consubstantial, he was sent back to Sardinia, in 520. He was sent on board one stormy night, that he might be taken away without the knowledge of the people, but the wind being contrary, the vessel was driven into port again in the morning, and the news having spread that the bishop was about to be taken from them, the people crowded to say farewell, and he was enabled to go to a church, celebrate, and communicate all the faithful. Being ready to go on board when the wind shifted, he said to a Catholic, whom he saw weeping, "Grieve not, I shall shortly return, and the true faith of Christ will flourish again in this realm, with full liberty to profess it; but divulge not this secret to any."

His deep love for a secluded life led him to build a monastery near his home in Ruspe, which he intended to place under the care of his old friend, Abbot Felix. However, before the construction could be finished, King Thrasimund ordered the exile of the Catholic bishops to Sardinia. As a result, St. Fulgentius and sixty other bishops were exiled, and during their time away, they were supported each year with food and money by the generosity of Symmachus, Bishop of Rome. There’s still a letter from this Pope to them, offering encouragement and comfort. While in exile, St. Fulgentius wrote several treatises to strengthen the faith of the orthodox believers in Africa. King Thrasimund, wanting to see him, summoned him and arranged for him to stay in Carthage. The king posed ten challenges to the Catholic faith and asked Fulgentius to respond. The Saint promptly accepted the challenge, and his response was so impactful that when the king sent him new challenges, he ordered that Fulgentius’ answers be read only to him. Fulgentius also wrote a rebuttal against Arianism, known as "Three Books to King Thrasimund." The king appreciated the work and allowed him to stay in Carthage until, after repeated complaints from the Arian bishops about the success of his preaching—which they claimed threatened to convert the entire city to the faith—he was sent back to Sardinia in 520. He was taken on board one stormy night to avoid public attention, but when the winds turned against them, the ship was forced back to port the next morning. When news spread that the bishop was about to leave, crowds gathered to say goodbye, and he was able to go to a church to celebrate and communicate with all the faithful. Ready to board again when the wind shifted, he said to a Catholic he saw crying, "Don’t be upset, I’ll be back soon, and the true faith of Christ will thrive in this land with full freedom to practice it, but don’t tell anyone about this."

The event confirmed the truth of the prediction. Thrasimund died in 523, and was succeeded by Hilderic, who gave orders for the restoration of the orthodox bishops to their sees, and that liberty of worship should be accorded to the Catholics.

The event confirmed the accuracy of the prediction. Thrasimund died in 523, and was succeeded by Hilderic, who ordered the restoration of the orthodox bishops to their positions and that Catholics should be granted freedom of worship.

The ship which brought back the bishops to Carthage was received with great demonstrations of joy. The pupil of the bishop, and eye-witness of the scene, thus describes it:—"Such was the devotion of the Carthaginian citizens, desiring [Pg 17] to see the blessed Fulgentius again, that all the people ardently looked for him whom they had seen wrestle so manfully before them. The multitude, which stood upon the shore, was silent in expectation as the other bishops disembarked before him, seeking with eyes and thoughts only him whom they had familiarly known, and eagerly expecting him from the ship. And when his face appeared, there broke forth a huge clamour, all striving who should first salute him, who should first bow his head to him giving the benediction, who should deserve to touch the tips of his fingers as he walked, who might even catch a glimpse of him, standing afar off. From every tongue resounded the praise of God. Then the people, going before and following after the procession of the blessed confessors, moved to the Church of S. Agileus. But there was such a throng of people, especially around Fulgentius, whom they especially honoured, that a ring had to be formed about him by the holy precaution of the Christians, to allow him to advance upon his way. Moreover, the Lord, desiring to prove the charity of the faithful, marvellously poured upon them, as they moved, a heavy shower of rain. But the heavy down-pour deterred none of them, but seemed to be the abundant benediction of heaven descending on them, and it so increased their faith, that they spread their cloaks above blessed Fulgentius, and composed of their great love a new sort of tabernacle over him. And the evening approaching, the company of prelates presented themselves before Boniface, the bishop (of Carthage) of pious memory, and all together praised and glorified God. Then the blessed Fulgentius traversed the streets of Carthage, visiting his friends and blessing them; he rejoiced with them that did rejoice, and wept with them that did weep; and so, having satisfied all their wishes, he bade farewell to his brethren, and went forth out of Carthage, finding on all the roads people coming to meet him in the [Pg 18] way with lanterns, and candles, and boughs of trees, and great joy, giving praises to the ineffable God, who had wondrously made the blessed Fulgentius well pleasing in the sight of all men. He was received in all the churches as if he were their bishop, and thus the people throughout Byzacene rejoiced as one man over his return."

The ship that brought the bishops back to Carthage was met with great excitement. A student of the bishop and an eyewitness described the scene: "The devotion of the Carthaginian citizens, eager to see the blessed Fulgentius again, was so strong that everyone was anxiously waiting for him, the one they had seen fight valiantly before them. The crowd on the shore stood in silence, waiting for the other bishops to disembark before him, searching with their eyes and minds only for the one they knew well and eagerly anticipating his arrival from the ship. When his face finally appeared, a loud cheer erupted, with everyone trying to be the first to greet him, the first to bow their heads for his blessing, who could touch the tips of his fingers as he walked by, or even just catch a glimpse of him from a distance. Praises of God filled the air from every mouth. Then, the people, both leading and following the procession of the blessed confessors, made their way to the Church of St. Agileus. But there were so many people, especially around Fulgentius, whom they held in high regard, that the Holy Christians formed a protective circle around him to help him move along. Moreover, the Lord, wanting to test the faith of the believers, remarkably sent down a heavy rain as they walked. However, the downpour didn’t discourage anyone; instead, it felt like a heavenly blessing showering down on them, and it strengthened their faith to the point that they spread their cloaks over blessed Fulgentius, creating a special kind of shelter for him out of their great love. As evening approached, the group of bishops came before Boniface, the beloved bishop of Carthage, and together they praised and glorified God. Then, blessed Fulgentius walked through the streets of Carthage, visiting his friends and blessing them; he rejoiced with those who were happy and cried with those who were sad. After fulfilling all their wishes, he said farewell to his brothers and left Carthage, with people coming from every direction to meet him on the roads, carrying lanterns, candles, branches, and joyful shouts, giving praises to the indescribable God who had wonderfully made blessed Fulgentius beloved by all. He was welcomed in all the churches as if he were their bishop, and the people throughout Byzacene rejoiced together at his return."

Arrived at Ruspe, S. Fulgentius diligently laboured to correct what was evil, and restore what was fallen down, and strengthen what was feeble in his diocese. The persecution had lasted seventy years, so that many abuses had crept in, and the faith of many was feeble, and ignorance prevailed. He carried out his reformation with such gentleness, that he won, sooner or later, the hearts of the most vicious.

Arriving in Ruspe, S. Fulgentius worked hard to fix what was wrong, restore what had fallen apart, and strengthen what was weak in his diocese. The persecution had gone on for seventy years, which allowed many problems to creep in, leaving the faith of many fragile and ignorance widespread. He implemented his reforms with such kindness that he eventually won over even the most wicked hearts.

In a council, held at Junque, in 524, a certain bishop, named Quodvultdeus, disputed the precedency with the Bishop of Ruspe, who made no reply, but took the first place accorded him by the council. However, S. Fulgentius publicly desired, at the convention of another council, that he might be allowed to yield the precedence to Quodvultdeus.

In a meeting held at Junque in 524, a bishop named Quodvultdeus argued about his ranking with the Bishop of Ruspe, who didn’t respond but accepted the top position assigned to him by the council. However, St. Fulgentius later publicly requested, at another council meeting, that he be allowed to give his precedence to Quodvultdeus.

About a year before his death, the bishop retired from all business, to prepare his soul for its exit, to a little island named Circinia. The necessities of his flock recalled him, however, to Ruspe for a little while.

About a year before he passed away, the bishop stepped back from all duties to get ready for his departure on a small island called Circinia. However, the needs of his congregation brought him back to Ruspe for a short time.

He bore the violent pains of his last illness with great resignation, praying incessantly, "Lord grant me patience now, and afterwards pardon." He called his clergy about him, and asked them to forgive him if he had shewn too great severity at any time, or had offended them in any way, and then, committing his soul into the hand of God as a merciful Creator, he fell asleep in the evening of January 1st, a.d. 533, in his sixty-fifth year.

He endured the intense pain of his final illness with remarkable acceptance, praying constantly, "Lord, give me patience now, and later grant me forgiveness." He gathered his clergy around him and asked them to forgive him if he had shown too much harshness at any point or had offended them in any way. Then, entrusting his soul to God as a compassionate Creator, he passed away on the evening of January 1st, a.d. 533, at the age of sixty-five.

Relics, at Bourges, in France, where May 16 is observed [Pg 19] as the feast of his translation, in the year 714.

Relics, at Bourges, in France, where May 16 is celebrated [Pg 19] as the feast of his transfer, in the year 714.

S. MOCHUA, OR CUAN.

(about 6th cent.)

(~6th century)

[Commemorated in the ancient Irish Martyrologies on the 11th April; probably as being the day of his translation. But he died on Jan. 1st. The life of S. Mochua, in the Bollandists, is legendary, and is full of the wildest fable.]

[Remembered in the ancient Irish Martyrologies on April 11th, probably because it marks the day of his transfer. However, he died on January 1st. The life of S. Mochua, found in the Bollandists, is legendary and filled with extravagant stories.]

Saint Mochua was the son of a certain Cronan, of noble race, and spent his youth in fighting. At the age of thirty, he laid aside his arms, and burnt a house, with all its contents, which had been given to him by his uncle, saying that a servant of Christ should take nothing from sinners. Then he settled at a spot called Teach Mochua. He is said to have healed S. Finnan, or Munnu, of leprosy, and when S. Finnan was about to return home, and his horse broke its leg, S. Mochua summoned a stag out of the forest to come and draw the vehicle, in place of the horse.

Saint Mochua was the son of a nobleman named Cronan and spent his youth in battles. At the age of thirty, he put down his weapons and burned down a house, along with everything inside it, that his uncle had given him, saying that a servant of Christ shouldn't take anything from sinners. He then settled in a place called Teach Mochua. It's said that he healed S. Finnan, also known as Munnu, of leprosy, and when S. Finnan was about to go home and his horse broke its leg, S. Mochua called for a stag from the forest to pull the cart instead of the horse.

In his time, the first stone church was erected in Ireland by S. Kieran, and during the building of the church, there fell no rain to impede the masons, for the clouds were stayed by the prayers of S. Mochua. He is said to have founded thirty churches. To assist in drawing wood from the forest to build these churches, Mochua called to his aid twelve stags, which served as patiently and obediently as oxen. And when his virtues drew to him many people and much praise, the old man fled from place to place, for he considered that the glory of this world would turn his heart from the glory of the world to come. And when very aged, he escaped with his oratory bell into a wild and mountainous part, and there the clapper fell to the ground, at a place called Dagrinnis. He was troubled in spirit, so bleak and lonely did the place appear; but an angel announced to him that there he was to build a cell, and there to die; and in this spot he spent thirty years, and wrought many miracles, and [Pg 20] died in the ninety-ninth year of his age.

In his time, the first stone church was built in Ireland by S. Kieran. While the church was being constructed, it didn’t rain to disrupt the builders because the clouds were held back by the prayers of S. Mochua. He is said to have founded thirty churches. To help bring wood from the forest to build these churches, Mochua called upon twelve stags, which worked as patiently and obediently as oxen. As his virtues attracted many people and praise, the old man moved from place to place because he believed that the glory of this world would distract him from the glory of the next. When he was very old, he escaped with his oratory bell to a wild and mountainous area, where the clapper fell to the ground at a place called Dagrinnis. He felt troubled in spirit, as the place seemed so bleak and lonely; however, an angel told him to build a cell there and die there. In this spot, he spent thirty years, performed many miracles, and [Pg 20] died at the age of ninety-nine.

It is difficult to clear the lives of many of the Irish Saints from the fable wherewith lively imaginations have invested them, in their oral transmission through many hundreds of years.

It’s hard to separate the lives of many Irish Saints from the myths that vivid imaginations have added to them through countless years of storytelling.

S. MOCHUA, OR CRONAN, OF BALLA

(7th cent.)

(7th century)

[The day of his death is unknown. He is here mentioned because of the similarity of his name to that of S. Mochua, of Teach Mochua. His life is legendary.]

The date of his death is unknown. He's mentioned here because his name is similar to S. Mochua from Teach Mochua. His life is legendary.

Saint Mochua, or Cronan, was the third son of Began, a man of good family. As a child, he was despised by his parents, and sent to keep sheep. But S. Congal, passing by his father's house, called the boy to follow him, and made him a monk. S. Mochua founded the monastery of Balla in Connaught. He departed to the Lord in the fifty-sixth year of his age.

Saint Mochua, also known as Cronan, was the third son of Began, who came from a respectable family. As a child, he was rejected by his parents and sent to tend to sheep. However, Saint Congal, passing by his father's house, called the boy to join him and made him a monk. Saint Mochua established the monastery of Balla in Connaught. He passed away at the age of fifty-six.

S. ODILO, AB. CLUNY.

(a.d. 1049.)

(A.D. 1049.)

[Roman and Benedictine Martyrologies. Two lives of S. Odilo are extant, one written by Jotsald, a monk, who had lived under his rule, and who wrote it for Stephen, the nephew of the Saint. The other, a very inferior life, by S. Peter Damian. Both are printed in the Bollandists, but the first is from an imperfect MS. It was printed entire by Mabillon, Acta SS. O. S. B.]

[Roman and Benedictine Martyrologies. There are two accounts of S. Odilo. One was written by Jotsald, a monk who lived under his rule, for Stephen, the Saint's nephew. The other, a much shorter account, is by S. Peter Damian. Both are published by the Bollandists, but the first one is based on an incomplete manuscript. It was fully published by Mabillon, Acta SS. O. S. B.]

Odilo belonged to the family of Mercœur, one of the most illustrious of Auvergne. Jotsald says:—"In the beginning of the account of his virtues I must relate what happened to him as a boy. And lest it be thought incredible, I mention that I heard it from those to whom he was wont to narrate the circumstance. When he was quite a little boy in his [Pg 21] father's house, before he was sent to school, he was destitute of almost all power in his limbs, so that he could not walk or move himself without help. It happened that one day his father's family were moving to another place, and a nurse was given charge of him to carry him. On her way, she put the little boy down with her bundles before the door of a church, dedicated to the Mother of God, as she and the rest were obliged to go into some adjacent houses to procure food. As they were some while absent, the boy finding himself left alone, impelled by divine inspirations, began to try to get to the door and enter the Church of the Mother of God. By some means, crawling on hands and knees, he reached it, and entered the church, and went to the altar, and caught the altar vestment with his hands; then, with all his power, stretching his hands on high, he tried to rise, but was unable to do so, his joints having been so long ill-united. Nevertheless, divine power conquered, strengthening and repairing the feeble limbs of the boy. Thus, by the intervention of the Mother of God, he rose, and stood upon his feet whole, and ran here and there about the altar. The servants returning to fetch their bundles, and not finding the child, were much surprised, and looked in all directions, and not seeing him, became greatly alarmed. However, by chance, entering the church, they saw him rambling and running about it; then they recognised the power of God, and joyously took the boy in their arms, and went to their destination, and gave him, completely whole, to his parents, with great gladness."

Odilo was part of the Mercœur family, one of the most distinguished families in Auvergne. Jotsald says:—"At the start of my account of his virtues, I must share what happened to him when he was a child. To make sure this doesn’t seem unbelievable, I want to mention that I heard this from those who he used to tell about it. When he was just a little boy in his [Pg 21] father's house, before he started school, he had almost no strength in his limbs, so he couldn’t walk or move without assistance. One day, while his family was moving to a new place, a nurse was given the responsibility to carry him. On her way, she put the little boy down with her bags in front of a church dedicated to the Mother of God, as she and the others needed to go into nearby houses to get food. After a while, when the boy found himself alone, inspired by divine intuition, he began to try to crawl to the church door and get inside. Somehow, crawling on his hands and knees, he made it to the entrance, entered the church, and reached the altar. He grabbed the altar cloth with his hands; then, with all his strength, he raised his hands up, trying to stand, but he couldn’t because his joints had healed poorly for so long. Nevertheless, divine power prevailed, strengthening and healing the boy's weak limbs. By the grace of the Mother of God, he stood up on his feet, completely healed, and ran around the altar. When the attendants returned to collect their things and couldn’t find the child, they were shocked and looked everywhere, growing increasingly worried. However, as luck would have it, they entered the church and saw him running around; that’s when they recognized the power of God. They joyfully picked the boy up and continued on their way, returning him, completely healed, to his parents with great happiness."

As a child, he showed singular simplicity, modesty, and piety. "Thus passed his childish years, and as the strength of youth began to succeed to boyhood, he silently meditated how to desert the flesh-pots of Egypt, and to strive to enter the Land of Promise, through the trials of the world. O good Jesu! how sweet is Thy call! how sweet the inspiration [Pg 22] of Thy Spirit, which as soon as Thou strikest on the heart, turns the fire of the Babylonish furnace into love of the celestial country. So! as soon as thou strikest the heart of the youth, thou changest it." Whilst he was thus meditating, S. Majolus passed through Auvergne, and Odilo came to him; then the old man, looking on the graceful form and comely face of the youth, and by the instinct of the Saints seeing into his soul, he loved him greatly; also the youthful Odilo felt a great affection for the aged monk. And when they spoke to one another, Odilo opened his heart to Majolus, and the venerable man encouraged the youth to persevere in his good intentions.

As a child, he displayed remarkable simplicity, modesty, and piety. "Thus passed his childhood, and as he began to transition from boyhood to the strength of youth, he quietly pondered how to leave behind the comforts of Egypt and strive to enter the Promised Land, facing the challenges of the world. O good Jesus! how sweet is Your call! how sweet the inspiration [Pg 22] of Your Spirit, which, as soon as You touch the heart, transforms the heat of the Babylonian furnace into a love for the heavenly kingdom. As soon as You strike the heart of the youth, You change it." While he was deep in thought, St. Majolus passed through Auvergne, and Odilo approached him. The old man, gazing at the youth's graceful form and attractive face, and sensing through the instinct of the Saints the depth of his soul, felt a strong affection for him; the young Odilo also felt a deep fondness for the aged monk. When they spoke, Odilo opened his heart to Majolus, and the venerable man encouraged the youth to stay committed to his good intentions.

Shortly after, Odilo left his home, "as Abraham of old went forth out of Ur of the Chaldees, and sought admittance into the abbey of Cluny, as into the Promised Land. O good Jesu! how pleasant it was to see this sheep shorn of its worldly fleece, again ascend as from the baptismal font! Then, wearing our habit, you might have seen our sheep amongst the others of His flock, first in work, last in place, seeking the pastures of eternal verdure; attending to the lamps, sweeping the floors, and doing other common offices. But the pearl could not remain long concealed. After four years, S. Majolus, after many hard labours borne for Christ, went out of the darkness of Egypt, entered Jerusalem, and was placed in eternal peace by Christ. As death approached, he chose Odilo to be his successor, and to him and to the Lord, he committed his flock." But S. Odilo shrank from the position for which his youth, as he considered, disqualified him; however, he was elected by the whole community, and was therefore unable to refuse the office wherewith he was invested by the vote of the brethren, and the desire of the late abbot.

Shortly after, Odilo left his home, "just like Abraham of old left Ur of the Chaldees, seeking entry into the abbey of Cluny, as if it were the Promised Land. Oh good Jesus! how wonderful it was to see this sheep, stripped of its worldly fleece, rise again like someone emerging from the baptismal font! Then, wearing our habit, you could see our sheep among the others in His flock, leading in work, finishing last in line, searching for the pastures of eternal greenery; taking care of the lamps, sweeping the floors, and doing other everyday tasks. But the jewel could not stay hidden for long. After four years, S. Majolus, after enduring many tough trials for Christ, left the darkness of Egypt, entered Jerusalem, and was given eternal peace by Christ. As death drew near, he chose Odilo to be his successor, and entrusted his flock to him and the Lord." But S. Odilo hesitated at the position he felt his youth disqualified him for; however, he was elected by the entire community and could not refuse the role given to him by the vote of the brothers and the wish of the late abbot.

His disciple, Jotsald, gives a very beautiful picture of his master. He describes him as being of middle stature, with [Pg 23] a face beaming with grace, and full of authority; very emaciated and pale; his eyes bright and piercing, and often shedding tears of compunction. Every motion of his body was grave and dignified; his voice was manly, and modulated to the greatest sweetness, his speech straightforward and without affectation or artificiality.

His disciple, Jotsald, paints a lovely picture of his master. He describes him as being of average height, with a face filled with grace and authority; very thin and pale; his eyes bright and piercing, often shedding tears of remorse. Every movement he made was serious and dignified; his voice was strong and sweet, his speech straightforward and genuine, without any pretension or artifice.

His disciple says that he would recite psalms as he lay on his bed, and falling asleep, his lips would still continue the familiar words, so that the brethren applied to him the words of the bride, "I sleep but my heart waketh," Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat. He read diligently, and nothing gave him greater delight than study. His consideration for others was very marked. "He was burdensome to none, to none importunate, desirous of no honour, he sought not to get what belonged to others, nor to keep what was his own." His charity was most abundant; often the brethren feared that it exceeded what was reasonable, but they found that though he gave largely, he did not waste the revenues of the monastery. Once, in time of famine, he was riding along a road, when he lit on the naked bodies of two poor boys who had died of hunger. Odilo burst into tears, and descending from his horse, drew off his woollen under garment and wrapping the bodies in it, carefully buried them. In this famine he sold the costly vessels of the Sanctuary, and despoiled the Church of its gold and silver ornaments, that he might feed the starving people. Amongst the objects thus parted with was the crown of gold presented to the abbey by Henry, King of the Romans. He accompanied this Prince in his journey to Rome, when he was crowned emperor, in 1014. This was his second journey thither; he made a third in 1017, and a fourth in 1022. Out of devotion to S. Benedict, he paid a visit to Monte Cassino, where he kissed the feet of all the monks, at his own request, which was granted him with great reluctance.

His disciple says that he would recite psalms while lying in bed, and as he fell asleep, his lips would continue the familiar words, so much so that the brothers referred to him as embodying the words of the bride, "I sleep but my heart is awake," Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat. He was diligent in his reading, and nothing brought him more joy than studying. He was notably considerate of others. "He was a burden to none, not pushy with anyone, seeking no honor, not wanting to take what belonged to others, nor trying to hold on to what was his." His charity was abundant; often the brothers worried it was excessive, but they found that though he gave generously, he didn't squander the monastery's resources. Once, during a famine, he was riding along a road when he came across the lifeless bodies of two poor boys who had starved to death. Odilo broke down in tears, got off his horse, removed his wool undergarment, wrapped the bodies in it, and buried them with care. During this famine, he sold the valuable vessels of the Sanctuary and stripped the Church of its gold and silver decorations to feed the starving people. Among the items he gave up was the golden crown that Henry, King of the Romans, had given to the abbey. He traveled with this prince to Rome for his coronation as emperor in 1014. This was his second trip there; he made a third journey in 1017 and a fourth in 1022. Out of devotion to St. Benedict, he visited Monte Cassino, where he kissed the feet of all the monks, a request that was granted to him with great reluctance.

"The convocation of the brethren was regularly held by him till he was at the point of death. O how joyous he was in the midst of them, as standing in the midst of the choir, and looking to right and left he saw the ring of young plantings, and remembered the verse of David's song, 'Thy children shall be as the olive branches round about thy table.' Filii tui sicut novellæ olivarum, in circuitu mensæ tuæ. And the more the number of brothers increased, the more he exhibited his joy of heart by signs. And when some seemed distressed thereat, he was wont to say, 'Grieve not that the flock has become great, my brothers, He who has called us in, He governs, and will provide.'"

"The gathering of the brothers happened regularly until he was near death. Oh, how happy he was among them, standing in the middle of the choir, looking to the right and left, seeing the circle of young plants, and recalling the verse from David's song, 'Your children will be like olive branches around your table.' Filii tui sicut novellæ olivarum, in circuitu mensæ tuæ. And as the number of brothers grew, he showed his joyful heart even more. When some seemed troubled by this, he would often say, 'Don't be sad that the flock has grown, my brothers; He who has called us in, governs us and will provide.'"

Fulbert, Bishop of Chartres, called him the archangel of monks; and the name, says his disciple, became him well. S. Odilo, out of his great compassion for the souls of the dead expiating the penalty of their sins in purgatory, instituted the commemoration of All Souls for the morrow of All Saints, in the Cluniac order, which was afterwards adopted by the whole Catholic Church in the West. Many incidents of his travels, and miracles that he wrought, are related by his pupil. As he was riding over the Jura mountains, in snowy weather, the horse carrying his luggage fell, and was precipitated into the valley, and all the baggage was scattered in the snow-drifts. With much trouble, the horse and much of the baggage were recovered, but a valuable Sacramentary, inscribed with gilt letters, and some glass vessels, with embossed work, were lost. That evening, Odilo and his monks arrived at a cell, under the jurisdiction of S. Eugendus, and being much troubled at his loss, as much rain fell in the night, S. Odilo sent some of the brethren early next morning to search for the lost treasures. But the snow-drifts were so deep that they could not find them, and he was obliged to leave without them. However, as the spring came round, a certain priest, named Ermendran, was walking [Pg 25] in the glen, and he found the book uninjured, and the glass goblets unbroken. He brought them to the cell, and on the return of Odilo to the Jura, he received his lost treasures intact.

Fulbert, the Bishop of Chartres, referred to him as the archangel of monks; and according to his disciple, the name suited him perfectly. Saint Odilo, out of deep compassion for the souls of the dead who were making amends for their sins in purgatory, established the commemoration of All Souls on the day after All Saints, within the Cluniac order, which was later adopted by the entire Catholic Church in the West. His pupil recounts many stories of his travels and the miracles he performed. While he was riding through the snowy Jura mountains, the horse carrying his luggage fell and tumbled into the valley, scattering all the bags across the snow. After a lot of effort, they managed to retrieve the horse and most of the bags, but a valuable Sacramentary with gilded letters and some engraved glass vessels were lost. That evening, Odilo and his monks arrived at a monastery under the authority of Saint Eugendus. Distressed over his loss, and with heavy rain falling that night, Saint Odilo sent some of the monks the next morning to search for the lost items. Unfortunately, the snowdrifts were so deep that they couldn’t find them, and he had to leave without them. However, when spring came, a priest named Ermendran was walking in the valley and found the book unharmed and the glass goblets intact. He brought them back to the monastery, and when Odilo returned to the Jura, he was reunited with his lost treasures, all in perfect condition.

Another story of a glass vessel comes on good authority. The circumstances were related by Albert, Bishop of Como, in these words, "Once our Abbot and Superior came to the court of the Emperor Henry, and whilst there, it happened one day that at table a goblet of glass, of Alexandrine workmanship, very precious, with coloured enamel on it, was placed before him. He called me and Landulf, afterwards Bishop of Turin, to him, and bade us take this glass to Odilo. We accordingly, as the Emperor had bidden, took it, and going to the abbot, offered it to him, on the part of the Emperor, humbly bowing. He received it with great humility, and told us to return after a while for the goblet again. Then, when we had gone away, the monks, filled with natural curiosity to see and handle a new sort of thing, passed the vessel from hand to hand, and as they were examining it, it slipped through their fingers to the ground, and was broken. When the gentle man of God was told this, he was not a little grieved, and said, 'My brothers, you have not done well, for by your negligence, the young clerks who have the custody of these things will, maybe, lose the favour of the Emperor, through your fault. Now, that those who are innocent may not suffer for your carelessness, let us all go to church and ask God's mercy about this matter.' Therefore, they all ran together into the church, and sang psalms and prayed, lest some harm should befall us—Albert and Landulf, each of them earnestly supplicating God for us. When the prayer was over, the holy man ordered the broken goblet to be brought to him. He looked at it, and felt it, and could find no crack or breakage in it. Wherefore, he exclaimed indignantly, 'What are you about, brothers? You [Pg 26] must be blind to say that the glass is broken, when there is not a sign of injury done to it.' The brethren, considering it, were amazed at the miracle, and did not dare to speak. Then, after a while, I and my companion came back for the vessel, and we asked it of him who was carrying it. He called me apart, and returned it to me, bidding me tell the Emperor to regard it as a great treasure. And when I asked his meaning, he told me all that had happened."

Another story about a glass vessel comes from a reliable source. The details were shared by Albert, Bishop of Como, who said, "Once our Abbot and Superior visited the court of Emperor Henry. One day, while dining, a very precious glass goblet, crafted in Alexandria and adorned with colored enamel, was placed in front of him. He called me and Landulf, who later became Bishop of Turin, and instructed us to take this glass to Odilo. So we did as the Emperor asked, went to the abbot, and humbly offered it to him on the Emperor's behalf. He accepted it with great humility and told us to return for the goblet later. After we left, the monks, curious to see and touch something new, passed the vessel around, and while examining it, it slipped from their hands and shattered on the floor. When the holy man learned of this, he was quite upset and said, 'My brothers, this was not wise of you. Your carelessness may cause the young clerks who oversee these items to lose the Emperor's favor because of you. To prevent the innocent from suffering for your negligence, let’s all go to church and seek God's mercy about this matter.' So, they all hurried to the church, singing psalms and praying that no harm would come to us—Albert and Landulf each earnestly pleading with God on our behalf. When the prayer ended, the holy man asked for the broken goblet to be brought to him. He examined it closely and found no cracks or damage. Therefore, he exclaimed indignantly, 'What are you doing, brothers? You must be blind to say the glass is broken when there are no signs of injury.' The brothers, realizing what had happened, were amazed by the miracle and didn’t dare to speak. After a while, my companion and I returned for the vessel, and we asked the person carrying it. He took me aside and gave it back to me, saying to tell the Emperor that it should be regarded as a great treasure. When I asked for clarification, he explained everything that had transpired."

S. Odilo seems to have been fond of art, for he rebuilt the monasteries of his order, and made them very beautiful, and the churches he adorned with all the costly things he could procure. The marble pillars for Cluny were brought, by his orders, in rafts down the Durance, into the Rhone, and he was wont to say of Cluny, that he found it of wood and left it of marble. He erected over the altar of S. Peter, in the church, a ciborium, whose columns were covered with silver, inlaid with nigello work.

S. Odilo appeared to have a love for art, as he renovated the monasteries of his order, making them incredibly beautiful, and he decorated the churches with all the expensive items he could find. The marble pillars for Cluny were delivered, by his orders, on rafts down the Durance River to the Rhône, and he used to say of Cluny that he found it wooden and left it marble. He set up a ciborium over the altar of St. Peter in the church, with columns covered in silver and decorated with intricate inlay work.

When he felt that his death approached, he made a circuit of all the monasteries under his sway, that he might leave them in thorough discipline, and give them his last admonitions. On this journey he reached Souvigny, a priory in Bourbonnais, where he celebrated the Vigil of the Nativity, and preached to the people, although at the time suffering great pain. After that, he announced to the brethren in chapter, that he was drawing nigh to his end, and he besought their prayers. As he was too weak to go to the great Church of S. Peter, which was attended by the monks, he kept the festival of the Nativity with a few brethren, whom he detained, to be with him in the Chapel of S. Mary; joyously he præcented the psalms and antiphons, and gave the benedictions, and performed all the ceremonies of that glad festival, forgetful of his bodily infirmities, knowing that soon he was to see God face to face, in the land of the living, and no more in a glass darkly. Most earnest was he, lest [Pg 27] death should come and find him unprepared. Throughout the Octave, he was carried in the arms of the monks to church, where he assisted at the choir offices, night and day, and at the celebration of the mass, refreshing himself at the sacred mysteries, and looking forward to the feast of the Circumcision, when his friend William, abbot of Dijon, had fallen asleep, on which day, he foretold, he also should enter into his rest.

When he realized that his death was near, he visited all the monasteries he oversaw to ensure they were well-disciplined and to give them his final advice. During this journey, he arrived at Souvigny, a priory in Bourbonnais, where he celebrated the Vigil of the Nativity and preached to the people, though he was in great pain at the time. Afterward, he told the brothers in the chapter that he was nearing his end and asked for their prayers. Since he was too weak to go to the main Church of S. Peter, which the monks attended, he celebrated the Nativity with a few brothers, who stayed with him in the Chapel of S. Mary; he joyfully led the psalms and antiphons, gave blessings, and performed all the rituals of that joyous festival, forgetting his physical ailments, knowing that soon he would see God face to face, in the land of the living, and no longer in a mirror dimly. He was very serious about not being unprepared when death came. Throughout the Octave, the monks carried him to the church, where he participated in the choir offices, day and night, and at the celebration of the mass, rejuvenating himself in the sacred mysteries, and anticipating the feast of the Circumcision, the day his friend William, abbot of Dijon, had passed away, on which day he foretold that he too would find peace.

On that day, carried by his brethren, he was laid before the altar of the Virgin Mother, and the monks sang vespers. Now and then their voices failed, through over much sorrow, and then he recited the words of the psalms they in their trouble had omitted. As night crept in at the windows, he grew weaker and fainter. Then the brothers laid sack-cloth and ashes under him, and as he was lifted in the arms of one, brother Bernard, he asked, reviving a little, where he was. The brother answered, "On sack-cloth and ashes." Then he sighed forth, "God be thanked!" and he asked that the little children, and the whole body of the brethren, might be assembled. And when all were gathered around him, he directed his eyes to the Cross, and his lips moved in prayer, and he died thus in prayer, gazing on the sign of his salvation.

On that day, carried by his brothers, he was placed before the altar of the Virgin Mother, and the monks sang evening prayers. Occasionally, their voices faltered from too much sorrow, and he recited the psalms that they had missed in their grief. As night fell outside, he grew weaker and more faint. Then the brothers laid sackcloth and ashes beneath him, and as he was lifted by one of them, Brother Bernard, he asked, regaining some strength, where he was. The brother replied, "On sackcloth and ashes." Then he sighed, "Thank God!" and requested that the little children and all the brothers be gathered. When everyone was around him, he directed his gaze to the Cross, his lips moved in prayer, and he died in that moment of prayer, looking at the symbol of his salvation.

His body was laid in the nave of the Church of Souvigny, near that of S. Majolus.

His body was placed in the main part of the Church of Souvigny, close to that of St. Majolus.

He is often represented saying mass, with purgatory open beside the altar, and those suffering extending their hands to him, in allusion to his having instituted the commemoration of All Souls.

He is often depicted saying mass, with purgatory open next to the altar, and those suffering reaching out their hands to him, referencing his establishment of the All Souls' commemoration.

FOOTNOTES:

[14] The Hermits, by Rev. C. Kingsley, p. 153, 154.

[14] The Hermits, by Rev. C. Kingsley, p. 153, 154.

[15] This passage has been quoted by some to show that at this period special vestments were not in general use for the Eucharist, as an argument against their present use. But it by no means appears from the passage quoted that Fulgentius did not wear Eucharistic vestments. It simply says that he wore at Mass the habit he lived and slept in. This is what monks and friars do now; they put the vestment over the habit.

[15] Some people have cited this passage to argue that during this time, special vestments were not typically used for the Eucharist, as a counterpoint to their current usage. However, the quoted passage doesn't actually indicate that Fulgentius didn’t wear Eucharistic vestments. It merely states that he wore the habit he lived and slept in during Mass. This is similar to what monks and friars do today; they put the vestment over the habit.


January 2.

The Octave of S. Stephen, the First Martyr.

The Octave of St. Stephen, the First Martyr.

SS. Frontasius, and Companions, MM. in Gaul.
SS. Martyrs, at Lichfield, circ. a.d. 304.
S. Isidore, B.C., in Egypt, 4th cent.
S. Macarius, of Alexandria, Ab., a.d. 394.
S. Aspasius, C., at Melun, France, a.d. 550.
S. Maximus, Ab. M., in France, a.d. 614.
S. Adalhardt, Ab. of Corbie, a.d. 826.
S. Silvester, Monk of Trani, in S. Italy, a.d. 1185.

Saints Frontasius and Companions, Martyrs in Gaul.
Saints Martyrs, at Lichfield, around A.D. 304.
Saint Isidore, before Christ, in Egypt, 4th century
Saint Macarius of Alexandria, Abbot, A.D. 394.
Saint Aspasius, Confessor at Melun, France, A.D. 550.
Saint Maximus, Abbot and Martyr, in France, A.D. 614.
Saint Adalhardt, Abbot of Corbie, A.D. 826.
Saint Silvester, Monk of Trani, in Southern Italy, A.D. 1185.

THE HOLY MARTYRS OF LICHFIELD.

(a.d. 304.)

(A.D. 304.)

[Anglican Martyrologies.]

[Anglican Martyr Records.]

L.

ichfield derives its name from Lyke-field, the field of dead bodies, because it is traditionally said, that in the persecution of Diocletian, many Christians suffered there for the faith. The arms of Lichfield are a plain strewn with corpses. Nothing certain is known of this event, which is probably altogether apocryphal.

Lichfield gets its name from Lyke-field, the field of dead bodies, because it's traditionally said that during the persecution under Diocletian, many Christians suffered there for their faith. The coat of arms for Lichfield shows a plain scattered with corpses. There's no solid evidence about this event, which is likely entirely fictional.

S. MACARIUS OF ALEXANDRIA, AB.

(a.d. 394.)

(A.D. 394.)

[There were two Macarii. Both are commemorated together by the Greeks, on Jan. 19th; but the Latins commemorate S. Macarius of Alexandria, on Jan. 2nd; and S. Macarius the Egyptian, on Jan. 15th. The history of this S. Macarius is perfectly authentic, having been written by S. Palladius (B. 368,) in the year 421; the writer knew S. Macarius personally, having been nine years in "the cells," of which S. Macarius was priest. Three of these years Macarius and Palladius lived together; so that, as the author says, he had every opportunity of judging of his manner of life and actions.]

There were two Macarii. Both are honored together by the Greeks on January 19th; however, the Latins celebrate St. Macarius of Alexandria on January 2nd and St. Macarius the Egyptian on January 15th. The history of this St. Macarius is completely authentic, as it was written by St. Palladius (B. 368) in the year 421. Palladius knew St. Macarius personally, having spent nine years in "the cells," where St. Macarius served as a priest. For three of those years, Macarius and Palladius lived together, so as the author notes, he had plenty of chances to observe his way of life and actions.

Saint Macarius the younger was born in Alexandria, of [Pg 29] poor parents, and followed the trade of confectioner. Desirous of serving God with his whole heart, he forsook the world in the flower of his age, and spent upwards of sixty years in the deserts, in the exercise of fervent penance and prayer. He first retired into the Thebaid, or Upper Egypt, about the year 335; then, aiming at greater disengagement, he descended to Lower Egypt, in or about the year 373. Here there were three deserts almost adjoining each other; that of Scété; that of the Cells, so called because of the multitude of cells wherewith its rocks were honey-combed; and a third, which reached the western bank of the Nile, called the Nitrian desert. S. Macarius had a cell in each of these deserts. When he was in Nitria he gave advice to those who sought him. But his chief residence was in the desert of the Cells. There each hermit lived separate, assembling only on Saturday and Sunday, in the church, to celebrate the divine mysteries, and to partake of the Holy Communion. All the brothers were employed at some handicraft, generally they platted baskets or mats. All in the burning desert was still; in their cells the hermits worked, and prayed, and cooked their scanty victuals, till the red ball of the sun went down behind the sandy plain to the west; then from all that region rose a hum of voices, the rise and fall of song, as the evening psalms and hymns were being chanted by that great multitude of solitaries in dens and caves of the earth.

Saint Macarius the Younger was born in Alexandria to poor parents and worked as a confectioner. Eager to serve God wholeheartedly, he left the world at a young age and spent over sixty years in the deserts, dedicated to intense penance and prayer. He first went to the Thebaid, or Upper Egypt, around the year 335; then, seeking greater detachment, he moved to Lower Egypt around 373. There were three deserts close to each other: the desert of Scété, the desert of the Cells—named for the many cells carved into its rocks—and a third desert known as the Nitrian desert, which extended to the western bank of the Nile. St. Macarius had a cell in each of these deserts. While in Nitria, he offered guidance to those who came to him. However, his main home was in the desert of the Cells. There, each hermit lived separately, gathering only on Saturdays and Sundays in the church to celebrate the divine mysteries and partake in Holy Communion. All the brothers were engaged in some form of craft, usually making baskets or mats. The scorching desert was quiet; in their cells, the hermits worked, prayed, and prepared their meager meals until the sun sank below the sandy plains to the west. Then, from that area, a chorus of voices emerged, singing the evening psalms and hymns as the vast group of solitaries gathered in their dens and caves.

Palladius has recorded an instance of the great self-denial observed by these hermits. A present was made to S. Macarius of a bunch of grapes, newly gathered. The holy man carried it to a neighbouring solitary who was sick; he sent it to another, and each wishing that some dear brother should enjoy the fruit rather than himself, passed it on to another; and thus the bunch of grapes made the circuit of the cells, and was brought back to Macarius.

Palladius noted an example of the incredible selflessness shown by these hermits. S. Macarius received a bunch of freshly picked grapes as a gift. The holy man took them to a nearby hermit who was sick; he then sent them to another, and each one, wanting some beloved brother to enjoy the fruit instead of themselves, passed it on to someone else. In this way, the bunch of grapes went around the cells and was eventually returned to Macarius.

The severity of life practised by these hermits was great. For seven years together S. Macarius lived on raw herbs and pulse, and for the three following years contented himself with four or five ounces of bread a day. His watchings were not less surprising. He told Palladius that it had been his great desire to fix his mind on God alone for five days and nights continuously. And when he supposed he was in the proper mood, he closed his cell, and stood up, and said, "Now thou hast angels and archangels, and all the heavenly host in company with thee. Be in heaven, and forget earthly things." And so he continued for two nights and days, wrapped in heavenly contemplations, but then his hut seemed to flame about him, even the mat on which he stood, and his mind was diverted to earth. "But it was as well," said he; "for I might have fallen into pride."

The intensity of life led by these hermits was intense. For seven years, S. Macarius lived on raw herbs and beans, and for the next three years, he was satisfied with just four or five ounces of bread each day. His nights of vigil were equally remarkable. He told Palladius that he had a strong desire to focus solely on God for five days and nights straight. Once he felt ready for this, he shut his cell, stood up, and said, "Now you have angels and archangels, and the entire heavenly host with you. Be in heaven, and forget about earthly matters." He continued this way for two nights and days, lost in heavenly thoughts, but then his hut seemed to catch fire around him, even the mat he was standing on, and his mind drifted back to earthly concerns. "But it was for the best," he said; "for I might have fallen into pride."

The reputation of the monastery of Tabenna, under S. Pachomius, drew him to it in disguise. S. Pachomius told him he seemed too far advanced in years to begin to practise the austerities undergone by himself and his monks; nevertheless, on his earnest entreaty, he admitted him. Then Lent drew on, and the aged Macarius saw the monks fasting, some two whole days, others five, some standing all night, and sitting at their work during the day. Then he, having soaked some palm leaves, as material for his work, went apart into a corner, and till Easter came, he neither ate nor drank, nor sat down, nor bowed his knee, nor lay down, and sustained life on a few raw cabbage leaves which he ate on Sundays; and when he went forth for any need he returned silently to his work, and occupied his hands in platting, and his heart in prayer. But when the others saw this, they were astonished, and remonstrated with S. Pachomius, saying, "Why hast thou brought this fleshless man here to confound us with his austerities. Send him away, or we will desert this place." Then the abbot went to [Pg 31] Macarius, and asked him who he was, and when he told his name, Pachomius was glad, and cried, "Many years have I desired to see thee. I thank thee that thou hast humbled my sons; but now, go thy way, sufficiently hast thou edified us; go, and pray for us." Macarius, on one occasion, to subdue his flesh, filled two great baskets with sand, and laying them on his shoulders, walked over the hot desert, bowed beneath them. A friend meeting him, offered to ease him of his burden, but "No," said the old hermit, "I have to torment my tormentor;" meaning his body.

The reputation of the monastery of Tabenna, led by S. Pachomius, attracted him there in disguise. S. Pachomius pointed out that he seemed too old to start practicing the strict disciplines that he and his monks followed; however, due to his sincere pleading, he welcomed him in. As Lent approached, the elderly Macarius observed the monks fasting—some for two full days, others for five, with some standing all night and sitting to work during the day. He then soaked some palm leaves to use for his work, moved to a corner, and from then until Easter, he neither ate nor drank, nor sat down, nor knelt, nor lay down, sustaining himself only on a few raw cabbage leaves he had on Sundays. Whenever he had to leave for anything, he returned quietly to his work, using his hands for weaving and his heart for prayer. The others, seeing this, were amazed and complained to S. Pachomius, saying, "Why have you brought this man without flesh to astonish us with his strictness? Send him away, or we'll leave this place." The abbot then went to Macarius and asked who he was. Upon hearing his name, Pachomius rejoiced and exclaimed, "For many years I have wanted to see you. Thank you for humbling my sons; now go, you have taught us enough; please pray for us." On one occasion, to discipline his body, Macarius filled two large baskets with sand and, burdened by them, walked across the hot desert. A friend who saw him offered to help lighten his load, but the old hermit replied, "No, I need to torment my tormentor," referring to his body.

One day, a gnat stung him in his cell, and he killed it. Then, ashamed that he had allowed himself to be irritated by the petty insect, and to have lost an opportunity of enduring mortification with equanimity, he went to the marshes of Scété, and stayed there six months, suffering greatly from the stings of the insects. When he returned, he was so disfigured by their bites, that he was only recognized by his voice.

One day, a gnat stung him in his cell, and he killed it. Then, feeling ashamed that he let himself be annoyed by such a small insect and missed a chance to endure discomfort calmly, he went to the marshes of Scété and stayed there for six months, suffering greatly from the insect bites. When he returned, he was so disfigured from their stings that he was recognized only by his voice.

The terrible severity with which these Egyptian hermits punished themselves is perhaps startling, but it was something needed at a time when the civilized world was sunk in luxury, profligacy, and indifference. That was a time which called for a startling and vivid contrast to lead minds into self-inspection. "Private profligacy among all ranks was such as cannot be described in any modern pages. The clergy of the cities, though not of profligate lives, and for the most part unmarried, were able to make no stand against the general corruption of the age, because—at least if we are to trust such writers as Jerome and Chrysostom—they were giving themselves up to ambition and avarice, intrigue and party spirit. No wonder if, in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a passion akin to despair. It would have ended often, but for Christianity, in [Pg 32] such an actual despair as that which had led, in past ages, more than one noble Roman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic. Christianity taught those who despaired of society, of the world—in one word, of the Roman empire, and all that it had done for men—to hope at last for a Kingdom of God after death. It taught those, who, had they been heathens and brave enough, would have slain themselves to escape out of a world which was no place for honest men, that the body must be kept alive, at least, for the sake of the immortal soul, doomed, according to its works, to endless bliss or endless torment. But that the world—such, at least, as they saw it then—was doomed, Scripture and their own reason taught them. They did not merely believe, but see, in the misery and confusion, the desolation, and degradation around them, that all that was in the world, the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, was not of the Father, but of the world; that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and that only he who did the will of God could abide for ever. They did not merely believe, but saw, that the wrath of God was revealed from heaven against all unrighteousness of men; and that the world in general was treasuring up to themselves wrath, tribulation, and anguish, against a day of wrath and revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who would render to every man according to his works. That they were correct in their judgment of the world about them, contemporary history proves abundantly. That they were correct, likewise, in believing that some fearful judgment was about to fall on man, is proved by the fact that it did fall; that the first half of the fifth century saw, not only the sack of Rome, but the conquest and desolation of the greater part of the civilized world, amid bloodshed, misery, and misrule, which seemed to turn Europe into a chaos, which would have turned it into a chaos, had there not been [Pg 33] a few men left who still felt it possible and necessary to believe in God, and to work righteousness. Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save each man his own soul in that dread day."[16]

The extreme measures that these Egyptian hermits took to punish themselves might seem shocking, but they were needed at a time when the civilized world was lost in luxury, excess, and apathy. It was a moment that required a striking and vivid contrast to prompt people to reflect on themselves. "The private indulgence among all classes was so extreme that it can't be fully captured in any modern writing. The clergy in the cities, while they led relatively decent lives and were mostly unmarried, couldn't stand against the widespread corruption of the time because—if we believe writers like Jerome and Chrysostom—they were succumbing to ambition and greed, scheming and factionalism. It's no surprise that, in such circumstances, people were driven by a despairing passion. Often, it could have resulted in despair similar to what caused several noble Romans in earlier times to take their own lives when they lost all hope for the Republic. Christianity brought hope to those who were desperate about society, the world—in a word, the Roman Empire, and everything it had done for humanity—by offering the possibility of a Kingdom of God after death. It taught those who, if they had been pagans and bold enough, might have taken their lives to escape a world unfit for honest individuals, that they should keep their bodies alive, at least for the sake of their immortal souls, which were destined for eternal bliss or eternal torment based on their actions. However, they were instructed that the world—as they saw it—was doomed, a message supported by Scripture and their own reasoning. They didn’t just believe, but clearly saw, in the suffering, chaos, desolation, and degradation around them, that everything in the world—the cravings of the flesh, the temptations of the eye, and the pride of life—was not from the Father but from the world; that the world was passing away along with its desires, and that only those who did God's will could endure forever. They didn’t just believe, but acknowledged that God's wrath was being revealed from heaven against all ungodliness of men; and that the world, in general, was accumulating wrath, tribulation, and anguish for a day of judgment and revelation of the righteous judgment of God, who would give every person what they deserved based on their actions. Their perspective on the world around them is well supported by contemporary history. Their belief that some terrible judgment was imminent is confirmed by the fact that it did occur; the first half of the fifth century witnessed not only the sack of Rome but also the conquest and ruin of most of the civilized world, amidst bloodshed, suffering, and poor governance, which seemed to plunge Europe into chaos. It would have led to chaos if it weren't for a few individuals who still believed it was possible—and necessary—to trust in God and strive to do what is right. Under these ominous conditions, people began to escape from a doomed world, seeking solitude with God, hoping to save their own souls on that dreadful day."

S. Macarius, of Alexandria, and his namesake, the Egyptian, lived much together. They were both exiled in 375, at the instigation of the Arian patriarch of Alexandria, who dreaded their influence over the people, and zeal for the orthodox faith. They crossed the Nile together in a ferryboat, when they encountered two military tribunes, accompanied by a great array of horses, with decorated bridles, of equipages, soldiers, and pages covered with ornaments. The officers looked long at the two monks in their old dresses, humbly seated in a corner of the bark. They might well look at them, for in that bark two worlds stood face to face; old Rome, degraded by the emperors, and the new Christian republic, of which the monks were the precursors. As they approached the shore, one of the tribunes said to the cenobites, "You are happy, for you despise the world." "It is true," answered the Alexandrine, "we despise the world, and the world despises you. You have spoken more truly than you intended; we are happy in fact, and happy in name, for we are called Macarius, which means in Greek happy."

S. Macarius of Alexandria and his namesake, the Egyptian, spent a lot of time together. They were both exiled in 375 because of the Arian patriarch of Alexandria, who feared their influence over the people and their commitment to the orthodox faith. They crossed the Nile together in a ferryboat when they encountered two military tribunes, along with a large entourage of horses with decorated bridles, carriages, soldiers, and pages adorned with ornaments. The officers stared intently at the two monks in their simple clothes, humbly sitting in a corner of the boat. They had reason to look at them, as in that boat, two worlds were facing each other: old Rome, diminished by the emperors, and the new Christian republic, of which the monks were the pioneers. As they neared the shore, one of the tribunes said to the monks, "You are happy, for you despise the world." "That's true," replied the Alexandrine, "we despise the world, and the world despises you. You've spoken more truthfully than you realize; we are indeed happy, both in reality and in name, for we are called Macarius, which means happy in Greek."

The tribune made no answer, but, returning to his house, renounced all his wealth and rank, and went to seek happiness in solitude.

The tribune didn’t respond, but after going home, he gave up all his wealth and status, and set out to find happiness in solitude.

In art, S. Macarius is represented with wallets of sand on his shoulders; sometimes with a hyæna and its young, because the story is told that one day a hyæna brought her young one and laid it at the feet of the hermit. He looked at the animal, and saw that it was blind, therefore he pitied the poor whelp, and prayed to God; then he touched the eyes of the young hyæna, and it saw plain. Next day, the mother brought a sheepskin and laid it at his feet, and this the hermit wore continually afterwards, till he gave it to S. Melania.

In art, S. Macarius is shown with bags of sand on his shoulders; sometimes with a hyena and its cub, because there's a story about how one day a hyena brought her baby and laid it at the hermit's feet. He looked at the animal and saw that it was blind, so he felt sorry for the little one and prayed to God; then he touched the eyes of the young hyena, and it could see clearly. The next day, the mother brought a sheepskin and laid it at his feet, which the hermit wore constantly after that, until he gave it to S. Melania.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] Kingsley, The Hermits, p. 4, 6.

[16] Kingsley, The Hermits, p. 4, 6.

S. ADALHARDT, OR ADELARD, AB. C.

(a.d. 826.)

(A.D. 826.)

[Named in many later Western Martyrologies, but not enrolled in the Roman Kalendar. He is variously called Adelhard, Adalarch, Alard, and Adelhardt. His life was written by S. Paschasius Radbertus, his disciple, and this was epitomized by S. Gerard, of Sauve-Majeur, in the 11th century. Paschasius says that the reason of his writing the life, was "to recall him whom almost the whole world regards as holy and admirable; whom we have seen, and whose love we enjoyed."]

[Named in many later Western Martyrologies but not included in the Roman Calendar. He is known as Adelhard, Adalarch, Alard, and Adelhardt. His life was written by Saint Paschasius Radbertus, his disciple, and summarized by Saint Gerard of Sauve-Majeur in the 11th century. Paschasius states that he wrote the account "to honor him whom almost the entire world recognizes as holy and admirable; whom we know, and whose love we have felt."]

Adalhardt was of royal race, having been the son of Bernhardt, son of Charles Martel, the brother of King Pepin; so that Adalhardt was cousin-german to Charlemagne, by whom he was called to court in his youth, and created Count of the Palace. But when the king put away his wife, the daughter of Desiderius, King of Italy, to marry another, Adalhardt left the court, disgusted with its lawlessness and vice, and became a monk at Corbie, at the age of twenty, in the year 773. He was made gardener, and, as his historian says, "With Mary he sought Jesus in the garden." At Corbie, he was so frequently visited by his relations, his friends, and acquaintances, that he had not sufficient solitude for the labour of turning his soul from earth to heaven; therefore he left Corbie and betook himself to Monte Cassino; but by order of the Emperor Charles, he was brought back again to Corbie, where he was shortly after elected abbot. He was compelled at last, by Charlemagne, to quit the monastery, and take upon him the charge of prime minister to his son Pepin, to whom he had intrusted the [Pg 35] government of Italy.

Adalhardt came from a royal family, being the son of Bernhardt, who was the son of Charles Martel, and the brother of King Pepin. This made Adalhardt a cousin of Charlemagne, who summoned him to court when he was young and appointed him Count of the Palace. However, when the king divorced his wife, the daughter of Desiderius, the King of Italy, to marry someone else, Adalhardt left the court, appalled by its corruption and immorality. At the age of twenty, in the year 773, he became a monk at Corbie. He was assigned the role of gardener, and as his historian noted, "With Mary he sought Jesus in the garden." While at Corbie, he received so many visits from relatives, friends, and acquaintances that he couldn't find the solitude needed to focus on spiritual matters. Consequently, he left Corbie for Monte Cassino, but Emperor Charles ordered him to return to Corbie, where he was soon elected abbot. Ultimately, Charlemagne forced him to leave the monastery to take on the role of prime minister to his son Pepin, whom he had entrusted with the [Pg 35] governance of Italy.

On the death of Charlemagne, Louis the Pious succeeded to the throne, and dismissed all the old ministers and officers of his father. Bernard, son of Pepin, the elder brother of Louis, who was dead, having asserted his right to the throne, King Louis suspected the abbot of Corbie of having been privy to this attempt, and he exiled him to the island of Heri, or Herimoutier, and his brothers and sisters were sent into monasteries. His brother Walla was forced to become a monk at Corbie; Bernharius was sent to Lerins; his sister Gundrada was given to the charge of S. Radegund, at Poictiers, and only Theodradra was left unmolested at Soissons.

When Charlemagne died, Louis the Pious took the throne and removed all his father's old ministers and officials. Bernard, the son of Pepin and Louis's deceased older brother, claimed his right to the throne. King Louis suspected the abbot of Corbie of being involved in this plot, so he exiled him to the island of Heri, or Herimoutier, while his brothers and sisters were sent to monasteries. His brother Walla was forced to become a monk at Corbie; Bernharius was sent to Lerins; his sister Gundrada was placed in the care of S. Radegund in Poitiers, and only Theodradra was left unharmed in Soissons.

Adalhardt spent seven years in banishment at Herimoutier, and then the king, having recognized his error, recalled him, to the great grief of the monks of Heri, to whom his meekness and charity had made him dear, and to the joy of those of Corbie, to whom he returned. He was not, however, allowed to remain at peace in his abbey at the head of his monks, but was recalled to court, where the king, whose disposition was much changed, followed his advice in all his undertakings, and Adalhardt was of great use to him, in suggesting improvement in the laws. At length, in 823, he obtained leave to return to Corbie, which he governed till his death. He had an admirable memory, so that he never forgot the face, or name, or disposition of one of his monks; and he was careful to speak with each of them once a week.

Adalhardt spent seven years in exile at Herimoutier, and then the king, realizing his mistake, brought him back, much to the sorrow of the monks at Heri, who had grown fond of him due to his kindness and humility, and to the delight of those at Corbie, where he returned. However, he wasn't allowed to stay in peace at his abbey leading his monks; he was called back to court, where the king, having changed his attitude, started to follow Adalhardt's advice in all his endeavors. Adalhardt was very helpful in suggesting improvements to the laws. Finally, in 823, he was given permission to go back to Corbie, which he managed until his death. He had an exceptional memory, and he never forgot the face, name, or character of any of his monks; he made sure to speak with each of them once a week.

During the banishment of the Saint, another Adalhardt, who governed the monastery by his appointment, began the foundation of another Corbie, in the diocese of Paderborn, in Westphalia, that it might be a nursery of missionaries for the conversion of the northern nations. S. Adalhardt often journeyed from one Corbie to the other, that he might provide [Pg 36] for the welfare, and look to the discipline of both houses. Finding himself attacked with fever, and knowing that he should not recover, he used every effort to reach the mother house before Christmas. This he achieved, and there he calmly prepared for his passage, communicating daily. Hearing of his sickness, Hildemann, Bishop of Beauvais, who had been a monk under him, hurried to his side, and administered to him the Sacrament of extreme unction, and scarcely left him. One day, however, the bishop left the room for a moment, and, on his return, saw the sick man in great transport. The Abbot exclaimed, "Hither speedily, Bishop, I urge you, and kiss the feet of Jesus, my Lord, for He is at my side." Then the Bishop of Beauvais trembled with awe, and stood still, not knowing what to say or do. But Adalhardt said no more. On the Octave of the Nativity, he called together the brethren, and having received the Body and Blood of Christ, he said to the assembled monks, "O my sons, the fruit of my old age in the Lord! I have finished the number of my days, and to-day I shall depart, and go the way of all flesh, and appear in the presence of my Redeemer. I have finished the course of my struggle, and what reward I shall receive, I know not. But help me, I pray, that I in you, and you in me, may rejoice in the Lord." Thus saying, he surrendered his pure soul to Him who made it. He was buried at the foot of the chancel steps in the Church of S. Peter, at Corbie; but in the year 1040 the body was taken up and enshrined.

During the exile of the Saint, another Adalhardt, appointed to lead the monastery, started a new Corbie in the diocese of Paderborn, in Westphalia, to serve as a training ground for missionaries to convert the northern nations. S. Adalhardt frequently traveled between the two Corbies to ensure the welfare and discipline of both communities. When he fell ill with fever and realized he was not going to recover, he made every effort to return to the mother house before Christmas. He succeeded and there, he calmly prepared for his passing, receiving communion daily. Upon hearing of his illness, Hildemann, the Bishop of Beauvais, who had been one of his monks, rushed to his side, administered the Sacrament of extreme unction, and barely left his presence. One day, however, the bishop stepped out for a moment, and upon returning, found the sick man in a state of great excitement. The Abbot exclaimed, "Come quickly, Bishop, and kiss the feet of Jesus, my Lord, for He is here with me." The Bishop of Beauvais was filled with awe and stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do. But Adalhardt said no more. On the Octave of the Nativity, he gathered the brothers and, having received the Body and Blood of Christ, said to the assembled monks, "O my sons, the fruit of my old age in the Lord! I have completed my days, and today I shall depart, going the way of all humanity, to stand before my Redeemer. I have finished my race, and I do not know what reward awaits me. But I ask you to help me, so that I in you, and you in me, may rejoice in the Lord." With that, he surrendered his pure soul to the One who created it. He was buried at the foot of the chancel steps in the Church of S. Peter at Corbie; however, in 1040, his body was exhumed and enshrined.

S. SILVESTER, OF TRANI, MONK.

(a.d. 1185.)

(A.D. 1185.)

[S. Silvester, monk of Trani, near Barletta, in South Italy, is held there in great reverence, and commemorated on the 2nd Jan. and 2nd May.]

S. Silvester, a monk from Trani near Barletta in Southern Italy, is well-respected in that area and is commemorated on January 2nd and May 2nd.

Saint Silvester, of whom nothing authentic is known, is [Pg 37] traditionally said to have been a monk of the order of S. Basil, in the convent of S. Michael, at Bari. Various miracles are attributed to him, as his having gone one winter day to Catania and back on foot. He is also said to have entered a baker's furnace to scrape the living embers together for him, when he had lost his shovel, and to have come forth unhurt.

Saint Silvester, about whom nothing reliable is known, is traditionally considered to have been a monk of the order of St. Basil, in the convent of St. Michael, at Bari. Various miracles are attributed to him, including the time he walked to Catania and back on foot in winter. It’s also said that he entered a baker's oven to gather up the live embers when he had lost his shovel, and he came out unharmed.

Oblation of an Infant Offering of an Infant to a Religious Community. After a Miniature in the Burgundy Library at Brussels.


January 3.

The Octave of S. John, the Evangelist.

The Octave of St. John, the Evangelist.

S. Anteros, Pope and M., at Rome, a.d. 236.
S. Florentius, B.M., at Vienne, in France, circ. a.d. 258.
SS. Zosimus and Athanasius, MM., in Cilicia, circ. a.d. 290.
S. Peter Balsam, M., at Aulane in Palestine, a.d. 291.
S. Gordius, M., at Cæsarea, circ. a.d. 320.
SS. Theognis, Primus, and Cyrinus, MM., circ. a.d. 320.
S. Melor, M., in Cornwall, circ. a.d. 411.
S. Genoveva, V., at Paris, a.d. 512.
S. Bertilia, V., at Marolles, a.d. 687.

St. Anteros, Pope and Martyr, in Rome, A.D. 236.
St. Florentius, Martyr, in Vienne, France, around A.D. 258.
Sts. Zosimus and Athanasius, Martyrs, in Cilicia, around A.D. 290.
St. Peter Balsam, Martyr, in Aulane, Palestine, A.D. 291.
St. Gordius, Martyr, in Caesarea, around A.D. 320.
Sts. Theognis, Primus, and Cyrinus, Martyrs, around A.D. 320.
St. Melor, Martyr, in Cornwall, around A.D. 411.
St. Genoveva, Virgin, in Paris, A.D. 512.
St. Bertilia, Virgin, in Marolles, A.D. 687.

S. ANTEROS, P. M.

(a.d. 236.)

(A.D. 236.)

[Commemorated in the Roman Martyrology, and in that attributed to Bede, that of Usuardus, &c.]

[Recognized in the Roman Martyrology, as well as in the one attributed to Bede, Usuardus, and others.]

S.

aint Anteros succeeded S. Pontianus as Bishop of Rome in 235. He instituted the office of notaries in the Church, to take down the sayings and sufferings of the martyrs, so that faithful records of their acts might be preserved. He died, June 18th, a.d. 236.

Saint Anteros became the Bishop of Rome after S. Pontianus in 235. He established the role of notaries in the Church to document the sayings and sufferings of the martyrs, ensuring that accurate records of their actions would be maintained. He died on June 18th, AD 236.

SS. ZOSIMUS AND ATHANASIUS, MM.

(about a.d. 290.)

(around A.D. 290.)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The Greeks keep their commemoration, however, on Jan. 4th. The authority for the following account is the Greek Menæa.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The Greeks observe their remembrance on January 4th. The information for the following account comes from the Greek Menæa.]

These martyrs suffered under Diocletian, in Cilicia. S. Zosimus was a hermit. His ears were burnt off with [Pg 39] red hot irons, afterwards he was plunged into a vessel of molten lead, and was then dismissed. He returned to his desert, converted and baptized Athanasius, and died in his cell.

These martyrs endured persecution under Diocletian in Cilicia. St. Zosimus was a hermit. His ears were burned off with red-hot irons, then he was immersed in molten lead and later released. He went back to his desert, converted and baptized Athanasius, and passed away in his cell.

S. PETER BALSAM, M.

(a.d. 291.)

(A.D. 291.)

[Commemorated in most Latin Martyrologies, and in the Greek Menæa on the 12th Jan. He is mentioned as Peter the Ascetic, by Eusebius; his genuine Acts are given in Ruinart.]

[Recognized in most Latin Martyrologies and in the Greek Menæa on January 12th. Eusebius refers to him as Peter the Ascetic; his genuine Acts are included in Ruinart.]

Eusebius, in his account of the martyrs of Palestine, appended to the 8th book of his Ecclesiastical History, says:—"On the eleventh of the month Audynœus, i.e., on the third of the ides of January (11th Jan.), in the same city of Cæsarea, Peter the Ascetic, also called Absolom, from the village of Anea, on the borders of Eleutheropolis, like the purest gold, with a good resolution, gave proof of his faith in the Christ of God. Disregarding both the judge and those around him, that besought him in many ways to have compassion on himself, and to spare his youth and blooming years, he preferred his hope in the Supreme God of all, and even to life itself."

Eusebius, in his account of the martyrs of Palestine, added to the 8th book of his Ecclesiastical History, states: "On the 11th of the month Audynœus, that is, on January 11th, in the same city of Caesarea, Peter the Ascetic, also known as Absolom, from the village of Anea, near Eleutheropolis, demonstrated his faith in God’s Christ like the purest gold, with unwavering determination. Ignoring both the judge and those around him who pleaded with him in many ways to show compassion for himself and to spare his youth and vibrant years, he chose to place his hope in the Supreme God of all, even above life itself."

The name of this Saint seems to have been Peter Absolom; the latter appellation has been corrupted into Apselm, Anselm, and Balsam. The acts of his martrydom are authentic. They are as follows:—

The name of this Saint appears to have been Peter Absolom; the latter name has been changed to Apselm, Anselm, and Balsam. The accounts of his martyrdom are genuine. They are as follows:—

At that time Peter, called Balsam, was captured at Aulane, in the time of persecution. He came from the borders of Eleutheropolis, and was brought before the governor, Severus, who said to him, "What is your name?" Peter answered, "I am called by my paternal name of Balsam, but in baptism I received my spiritual name of Peter." The Governor, "To what family do you belong?" [Pg 40] Peter, "I am a Christian." The Governor, "What office do you bear?" Peter, "What office can be more honourable than to live a Christian?" The Governor, "Have you any parents?" Peter, "I have none." The Governor, "There you lie, for I have heard that you have." Peter, "In the Gospel I am commanded to renounce all things when I come to confess Christ." The Governor, "Do you know the imperial edicts?" Peter, "I know the laws of God, the Sovereign true and everlasting." The Governor, "It is commanded by the most clement emperors that all Christians shall either sacrifice, or be executed in various ways." Peter, "And this is the command of the everlasting King. If thou sacrifice to any demon, and not to God alone, thou shalt be plucked out of the Book of the Living. Judge thou which I shall obey." The Governor, "Come, listen to me, sacrifice and obey the law." Peter, "I will not sacrifice to gods made by men's hands of wood and stone." And he poured forth a vehement invective against idolatry. The governor ordered him to the rack, and when he was slung to it, he said, "Well, Peter, what say you to this? How do you like your swing?" Peter said, "Bring the iron hooks; I have already told thee that I will not sacrifice to devils, but to God alone, for whom I suffer." The governor ordered him to be tortured. And when the stress of torment was very great, the martyr uttered no cry of pain, but sang, "One thing have I desired of the Lord, which I will require: even that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and to visit His temple. What reward shall I give unto the Lord for all the benefits that He hath done unto me? I will take the cup of salvation, and call upon the Name of the Lord." As he thus spake, the governor ordered other executioners to come to the work, being much exasperated. And the crowd standing [Pg 41] by, when they saw much blood run over the pavement, lamented, and urged him, saying, "O man, compassionate thyself, and sacrifice, that thou mayest escape these dreadful pains." But the holy man of God answered them, "These pains are nothing, and give me no suffering; but were I to deny the name of my God, I know that I should fall into greater torments, which would last eternally." The Governor said, "You had better sacrifice, or you will repent it." "No," answered Peter; "I will not sacrifice, and I shall not repent it." The Governor said, "Well, then I shall pronounce sentence." "That," said Peter, "is what I most ardently desire."

At that time, Peter, known as Balsam, was captured in Aulane during the time of persecution. He came from the outskirts of Eleutheropolis and was brought before the governor, Severus, who asked him, "What is your name?" Peter replied, "I am called by my family name, Balsam, but in baptism, I received the spiritual name Peter." The Governor asked, "What family do you belong to?" Peter answered, "I am a Christian." The Governor continued, "What position do you hold?" Peter said, "What position can be more honorable than living as a Christian?" The Governor inquired, "Do you have any parents?" Peter responded, "I have none." The Governor retorted, "That's a lie, because I've heard that you do." Peter replied, "In the Gospel, I am commanded to renounce all things when I come to confess Christ." The Governor asked, "Do you know the imperial edicts?" Peter replied, "I know the laws of God, the Sovereign who is true and everlasting." The Governor stated, "It is commanded by the most compassionate emperors that all Christians must either sacrifice or be executed in various ways." Peter responded, "And this is the command of the everlasting King. If you sacrifice to any demon and not to God alone, you will be removed from the Book of the Living. Judge for yourself whom I should obey." The Governor urged, "Come, listen to me; sacrifice and obey the law." Peter replied, "I will not sacrifice to gods made by human hands of wood and stone." He then expressed a strong condemnation against idolatry. The governor ordered him to the rack, and as he was suspended, he said, "Well, Peter, what do you say to this? How do you like your swing?" Peter replied, "Bring on the iron hooks; I've already told you that I will not sacrifice to demons but to God alone, for whom I suffer." The governor ordered him to be tortured. When the pain was intense, the martyr cried out no sound of suffering but sang, "One thing have I desired of the Lord, which I will seek: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to see the beauty of the Lord and to visit His temple. What shall I give to the Lord for all His benefits to me? I will take the cup of salvation and call upon the Name of the Lord." As he spoke, the governor ordered more executioners to come, getting increasingly angry. The crowd nearby, seeing much blood spill onto the pavement, lamented and urged him, saying, "O man, have mercy on yourself and sacrifice so you can escape this awful pain." But the holy man of God responded, "These pains are nothing and cause me no suffering; but if I were to deny my God, I know I'd face greater torments that would last forever." The Governor warned, "You should sacrifice, or you'll regret it." "No," Peter answered; "I will not sacrifice, and I will not regret it." The Governor declared, "Then I will pronounce judgment." "That," said Peter, "is what I desire most ardently."

Then the governor gave sentence in these words, "I command Peter, continuously despising the commands of the unconquered emperors, to suffer the death of the cross."

Then the governor declared, "I order Peter, who constantly disregards the commands of the unbeatable emperors, to be executed by crucifixion."

Thus, the venerable athlete of Christ, fulfilling his agony, was found worthy to participate in the Passion of his Lord. And he suffered at Aulane, on the third of the nones of January (Jan. 3rd,) under Maximian, the emperor.

Thus, the respected athlete of Christ, enduring his suffering, was found worthy to share in the Passion of his Lord. He suffered in Aulane, on January 3rd, under Emperor Maximian.

This account is somewhat abbreviated from the Acts. There is some little discrepancy between it and that of Eusebius. The ecclesiastical historian says he was executed at Cæsarea; the Acts say at Aulane; but as this was an insignificant village in the district over which the governor of Cæsarea held jurisdiction, the discrepancy is only apparent. Eusebius says he suffered on the third of the ides; the Acts, that he suffered on the third of the nones. It is probable that Eusebius is right, for the Greeks observe the martyrdom of S. Peter Balsam on the 12th Jan., and in the Martyrology, attributed to S. Jerome, the passion of [Pg 42] this Saint is given as occurring on the third of the ides, 11th Jan.

This account is a bit shorter than what’s in the Acts. There’s a slight difference between this version and Eusebius's account. The church historian states he was executed in Cæsarea, while the Acts mention Aulane. However, since Aulane was a small village under the authority of the Cæsarean governor, the difference is only superficial. Eusebius claims he suffered on the third of the ides, while the Acts say it was on the third of the nones. Eusebius is likely correct, as the Greeks commemorate the martyrdom of Saint Peter Balsam on January 12th, and in the Martyrology attributed to Saint Jerome, the passion of this Saint is noted as happening on the third of the ides, January 11th.

S. GORDIUS M.

(about 320.)

(about 320.)

[Commemorated by the Roman Martyrology and the Greek Menæa on the same day. The account of his passion is given by S. Basil the Great in a panegyric at Cæsarea, on the anniversary of his martyrdom, which he says was then recent. This account, given on the scene of his suffering, within the memory of man, so that some of those who heard the discourse of S. Basil, had seen the conflict of the martyr, is unquestionably trustworthy.]

[Honored by the Roman Martyrology and the Greek Menæa on the same day. St. Basil the Great gives an account of his martyrdom in a speech in Cæsarea, on the anniversary of his execution, which he notes was still fresh in people's memories. This account, presented at the site of his suffering and within living memory, means that some people who heard St. Basil's speech had witnessed the martyr's struggle, making it highly reliable.]

Saint Gordius was a native of Cæsarea, in Cappadocia, and was a centurion in the army. When Galerius issued his edicts against the Church in the East (303,) Gordius laid aside his office, and retired into the desert, where he lived in fasting and prayer amongst the wild beasts. In the desert he spent many years, but his zeal for Christ gave him no rest. The churches in Cæsarea had been destroyed, the clergy scattered, and many Christians had conformed, rather than lose their lives. It was a heathen city once more, and such salt as had remained had lost its savour. The spirit of the Lord stirred in the soul of Gordius, and urged him to return to his native city, and there play the man for Christ, where so many had fallen away from the faith. "One day that the amphitheatre was crowded to see horse and chariot races in honour of Mars, the god of war, when the benches were thronged, and Jew and Gentile, and many a Christian also," says S. Basil, "was present at the spectacle, and all the slaves were free to see the sight, and the boys had been given holiday from school for the same purpose, suddenly, in the race-course, appeared a man in rags, with long beard and matted locks; his face and arms burned with exposure to the sun, and shrivelled with long fasting; and he cried aloud, "I am found of them who sought me not, and to them who asked not after me, have I manifested myself [Pg 43] openly."

Saint Gordius was from Cæsarea in Cappadocia and was a centurion in the army. When Galerius issued his edicts against the Church in the East (303), Gordius gave up his position and retreated to the desert, where he lived in fasting and prayer among wild animals. He spent many years in the desert, but his devotion to Christ never let him rest. The churches in Cæsarea had been destroyed, the clergy were scattered, and many Christians chose to conform rather than risk their lives. It had become a pagan city again, and the remaining faithful had lost their influence. The spirit of the Lord stirred within Gordius, urging him to return to his hometown and stand up for Christ in a place where so many had abandoned their faith. "One day when the amphitheater was packed with people to watch horse and chariot races in honor of Mars, the god of war, with the stands full of Jews, Gentiles, and many Christians," says S. Basil, "who were there to witness the event, and all the slaves were free to attend, with boys given a day off from school for the same reason, suddenly a man in rags appeared on the racetrack, with a long beard and tangled hair; his face and arms were sunburned and shriveled from long fasting; and he shouted, 'I am found by those who did not seek me, and to those who did not inquire of me, I have shown myself openly.' [Pg 43]

Every eye was directed upon this wild-looking man, and when it was discovered who he was, there rose a shout from Gentile and Christian; the latter cried because they rejoiced to see the faithful centurion in the midst of them again; the former, because they hated the truth, and were wrath at the disturbance of the sports.

Every eye was focused on this wild-looking man, and when it was revealed who he was, a shout erupted from both Gentile and Christian; the Christians cheered because they were glad to see the faithful centurion among them again; the Gentiles shouted out of anger because they hated the truth and were upset by the disruption of their games.

"Then," continues S. Basil, "the clamour and tumult became more, and filled the whole amphitheatre; horses, chariots, and drivers were forgotten. In vain did the rush of wheels fill the air; none had eyes for anything but Gordius; none had ears to hear anything but the words of Gordius. The roar of the theatre, like a wind rushing through the air, drowned the noise of the racing horses. When the crier had made silence, and all the pipes and trumpets, and other musical instruments were hushed, Gordius was led before the seat of the governor, who was present, and was asked, blandly, who he was and whence he came. Then he related, in order, what was his country, and family, and the rank he had held, and why he had thrown up his office and fled away. 'I am returned,' said he, 'to shew openly that I care naught for your edicts, but that I place my hope and confidence in Jesus Christ alone.'" The governor, being exceedingly exasperated at the interruption in the sports, and the open defiance cast in his face by a deserter, before the whole city, ordered him at once to be tortured. "Then," S. Basil proceeds to relate in his graphic style, "the whole crowd poured from the theatre towards the place of judgment, and all those who had remained behind in the city ran to see the sight. The city was deserted. Like a great river, the inhabitants rolled to the place of martyrdom; mothers of families, noble and ignoble, pushed there; houses were left unprotected, shops were deserted by the customers, and in the market-place goods lay here and there neglected. [Pg 44] Servants threw up their occupations, and ran off to see the spectacle, and all the rabble was there to see this man. Maidens forgot their bashfulness and shame of appearing before men, and sick people and old men crawled without the walls, that they, too, might share the sight." The relations of Gordius, in vain, urged him to yield and apologise for his defiance of the state religion; signing himself with the cross, he cheerfully underwent the torments of leaded scourges, of the little horse, fire, and knife, and was finally beheaded.

"Then," continues S. Basil, "the noise and chaos grew louder, filling the entire amphitheater; horses, chariots, and drivers were forgotten. No one paid attention to the rush of wheels; everyone only had their eyes on Gordius and their ears tuned to his words. The roar of the crowd sounded like a wind rushing through the air, drowning out the noise of the racing horses. When the crier managed to silence the crowd, and all the pipes, trumpets, and other musical instruments fell silent, Gordius was brought before the governor's seat. He was asked, kindly, who he was and where he came from. Then he explained, step by step, his background, family, the rank he had held, and why he had abandoned his position and fled. 'I have returned,' he said, 'to openly show that I care nothing for your laws, but that my hope and trust are in Jesus Christ alone.' The governor, infuriated by the disruption of the games and the blatant defiance from a deserter in front of the whole city, immediately ordered him to be tortured. 'Then,' S. Basil goes on in his vivid style, 'the entire crowd surged from the theater toward the place of judgment, and everyone who had stayed behind in the city rushed to see the scene unfold. The city was nearly emptied. Like a great river, the people flowed toward the place of martyrdom; mothers, both noble and common, pushed their way there; homes were left unguarded, shops were abandoned by customers, and goods in the marketplace were left scattered and neglected. [Pg 44] Servants abandoned their work and ran off to witness the spectacle, and all sorts of people gathered to see this man. Young women forgot their shyness about appearing before men, and sick people and elderly individuals crawled outside the walls to catch a glimpse as well." The relatives of Gordius urged him, in vain, to back down and apologize for his defiance of the state religion; signing himself with the cross, he boldly endured the torments of leaded whips, the little horse, fire, and knife, and was ultimately beheaded.

SS. THEOGNIS, PRIMUS, AND CYRINUS, MM.

(about a.d. 320.)

(around A.D. 320.)

[The Martyrologies of S. Jerome, Bede, Usuardus, &c. Commemorated in the Roman Martyrology on this day; in the Greek Menæa on the 2nd Jan. Theognis, especially, is famous throughout East and West. The account in the Menæa and Menology is probably trustworthy. The Acts published by the Bollandists are of doubtful authority.]

[The Martyrologies of St. Jerome, Bede, Usuardus, and others are commemorated in the Roman Martyrology on this day; in the Greek Menæa on January 2nd. Theognis, in particular, is recognized in both the East and West. The account in the Menæa and Menology is likely trustworthy. The Acts published by the Bollandists are of questionable reliability.]

Theognis was the son of the Bishop of Cyzicus, in Hellespont. In the persecution of Licinius, he and his companions suffered at Cyzicus, being first scourged, and then cast into the sea.

Theognis was the son of the Bishop of Cyzicus, in Hellespont. During the persecution by Licinius, he and his companions were tortured in Cyzicus, first whipped and then thrown into the sea.

S. MELOR, M.

(about a.d. 411.)

(circa A.D. 411.)

[English Martyrologies on this day, though he died on Oct. 1st, on which day he is mentioned in Usuardus. His life in Capgrave is of no historical value—a composition of the 11th cent. "incertum" even to William of Malmesbury.]

[English Martyrologies for today mention him, even though he died on October 1st, which is the day noted in Usuardus. His biography in Capgrave isn’t historically significant—it’s an 11th-century work that’s considered "uncertain," even by William of Malmesbury.]

When first Christianity penetrated Britain, a great number of Saints existed, especially in Wales and Cornwall. At this time there was a duke, or prince, of Cornwall, named Melian [Pg 45], whose brother, Rivold, revolted against him, and put him to death. Melian left a son, Melor, and the usurper only spared his life at the intercession of the bishops and clergy. He, however, cut off his right hand and left foot, and sent him into one of the Cornish monasteries to be brought up.

When Christianity first spread to Britain, there were many Saints, particularly in Wales and Cornwall. At that time, there was a duke, or prince, of Cornwall named Melian[Pg 45], whose brother, Rivold, rebelled against him and killed him. Melian had a son, Melor, and the usurper only spared his life due to the pleas of the bishops and clergy. However, he did cut off Melor’s right hand and left foot and sent him to one of the Cornish monasteries to be raised.

The legend goes on to relate that the boy was provided with a silver hand and a brazen foot, and that one day, when he was aged fourteen, he and the abbot were nutting together in a wood, when the abbot saw the boy use his silver hand to clasp the boughs and pick the nuts, just as though it were of flesh and blood. Also, that one day he threw a stone, which sank into the earth, and from the spot gushed forth a fountain of pure water.

The story tells that the boy was given a silver hand and a bronze foot. One day, when he was fourteen, he and the abbot were out gathering nuts in the woods. The abbot saw the boy use his silver hand to grab the branches and pick the nuts as if it were a real hand. Additionally, there was a day when he threw a stone, which sank into the ground, and from that spot sprang a fountain of clear water.

Rivold, fearing lest the boy should depose him, bribed his guardian, Cerialtan, to murder him. This Cerialtan performed. He cut off the head of Melor, and carried it to the duke; but angels with lights stood around the body and guarded it.

Rivold, worried that the boy might overthrow him, bribed his guardian, Cerialtan, to kill him. Cerialtan did this. He cut off Melor's head and took it to the duke; however, angels with lights surrounded the body and protected it.

On his way to the duke, Cerialtan was parched with thirst, and exclaimed, "Wretched man that I am! I am dying for a drop of water." Then the head of the murdered boy said, "Cerialtan, strike the ground with thy rod, and a fountain will spring up." He did so, and quenched his thirst at the miraculous well, and pursued his way. When Rivold saw the head, he touched it, and instantly sickened, and died three days after. The head was then taken back to the body, and was buried with it. But the relics were afterwards taken to Amesbury, in Wiltshire.

On his way to the duke, Cerialtan was really thirsty and exclaimed, "What a miserable person I am! I’m dying for a drop of water." Then the head of the murdered boy said, "Cerialtan, strike the ground with your rod, and a fountain will spring up." He did this, quenched his thirst at the miraculous well, and continued on his way. When Rivold saw the head, he touched it and instantly felt sick, dying three days later. The head was then taken back to the body and buried with it. However, the relics were later taken to Amesbury, in Wiltshire.

It must be remembered, in reading the legends of the British and Irish Saints of the first period, that we have nothing like contemporary histories of their lives, and that these legends were committed to writing many hundreds of years after their death, so that the original facts became surrounded [Pg 46] with an accretion of fable so dense that it is impossible to distinguish truth from falsehood in the legends as they have reached us.

It should be kept in mind, when reading the stories of the British and Irish Saints from the early period, that we don't have any contemporary accounts of their lives, and these stories were written down hundreds of years after their deaths. As a result, the original events became surrounded [Pg 46] by so much myth that it's impossible to tell what's true and what’s made up in the legends as we have them today.

S. GENOVEVA, V.

(a.d. 512.)

(A.D. 512.)

[S. Genoveva is mentioned in almost all the Latin Martyrologies. Her life was written by an anonymous learned man, in the reign of Childebert, about eighteen years after her death. Three ancient lives exist, but whether one of these is that then composed, it is impossible to say.]

S. Genoveva is referenced in nearly all the Latin Martyrologies. An unknown scholar wrote her biography during Childebert's reign, around eighteen years after her death. There are three ancient versions of her life, but it’s unclear if one of them is the original.

The blessed Genoveva was born at Nanterre, near Mont Valerien, on the outskirts of Paris. Her father's name was Severus; that of her mother was Gerontia. When S. Germanus, Bishop of Auxerre, was on his way to Britain, to oppose the heresy of Pelagius, with his companion, S. Lupus, they passed through Nanterre. The people went out to meet him, and receive the benedictions; men, and women, and children in companies. Amongst the children, S. Germanus observed Genoveva, and bade her be brought before him. The venerable bishop kissed the child, and asked her name. The surrounding people told him, and the parents coming up, S. Germanus said to them, "Is this little girl your child?" They answered in the affirmative. "Then," said the bishop, "happy are ye in having so blessed a child. She will be great before God; and, moved by her example, many will decline from evil and incline to that which is good, and will obtain remission of their sins, and the reward of life from Christ the Lord."

The blessed Genoveva was born in Nanterre, near Mont Valerien, on the outskirts of Paris. Her father was named Severus, and her mother was Gerontia. When St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre, was traveling to Britain to confront the heresy of Pelagius, accompanied by St. Lupus, they passed through Nanterre. The townspeople came out to meet him and receive his blessings—men, women, and children in groups. Among the children, St. Germanus noticed Genoveva and asked for her to be brought to him. The respected bishop kissed the child and asked her name. The people around him answered, and when her parents approached, St. Germanus said to them, "Is this little girl your child?" They replied that she was. "Then," said the bishop, "you are fortunate to have such a blessed child. She will be great before God; her example will lead many to turn from evil and choose what is good, and they will receive forgiveness for their sins and the gift of eternal life from Christ the Lord."

And then, after a pause, he said to Genoveva, "My daughter, Genoveva!" She answered, "Thy little maiden listens." Then he said, "Do not fear to tell me whether it [Pg 47] be not thy desire to dedicate thy body, clean and untouched, to Christ, as His bride?" She said, "Blessed be thou, father, for thou hast spoken my desire. I pray God earnestly that He will grant it me."

And then, after a moment, he said to Genoveva, "My daughter, Genoveva!" She replied, "Your little girl is listening." Then he said, "Don't be afraid to tell me if it's your wish to dedicate your body, pure and untouched, to Christ as His bride?" She said, "Bless you, father, for you have spoken my wish. I sincerely pray that God will grant it to me."

"Have confidence, my daughter," said S. Germain; "be of good courage, and what thou believest in thy heart, and confessest with thy lips, perform in work. God will add to thy comeliness virtue and fortitude."

"Have confidence, my daughter," said S. Germain; "be brave, and what you believe in your heart and speak with your lips, make sure to follow through with it in action. God will add to your beauty both virtue and strength."

Then they went to the church, and sang Nones and Vespers, and throughout the office the bishop held his hand on the little maiden's head. And that evening, after supper had been eaten, and they had sung a hymn, S. Germain bade Severus retire with his daughter, but bring her to him very early in the morning again. So when the day broke, Severus came back bringing the child, and the old bishop smiled, and said, "Hail, my daughter Genoveva. Dost thou recall the promise thou didst make yesterday, about keeping thy body in integrity?" She answered, "I remember what I promised to thee, my father, and to God, that with His help I would preserve the chastity of my mind, and the integrity of my body, unto the end."

Then they went to the church, sang Nones and Vespers, and throughout the service, the bishop put his hand on the little girl's head. That evening, after dinner, and after they had sung a hymn, S. Germain told Severus to take his daughter home but to bring her back to him very early in the morning. So when dawn broke, Severus returned with the child, and the old bishop smiled and said, "Hello, my daughter Genoveva. Do you remember the promise you made yesterday about keeping your body intact?" She replied, "I remember what I promised you, my father, and to God, that with His help, I would maintain the purity of my mind and the integrity of my body until the end."

Then S. Germain picked up from the ground a little brass coin with the sign of the cross on it, which he had observed lying there whilst he was speaking, and gave it her, saying, "Bore a hole in this, and wear it round thy neck in remembrance of me, and let not any other metal ornament, gold or silver, or pearls, adorn thy neck or fingers." Then he bade her farewell, commending her to the care of her father, and pursued his journey.

Then S. Germain picked up a small brass coin from the ground that had a cross on it, which he noticed while he was talking, and handed it to her, saying, "Drill a hole in this and wear it around your neck to remember me, and don't let any other metal decoration, gold or silver, or pearls, beautify your neck or fingers." Then he said goodbye, entrusting her to her father's care, and continued on his journey.

It has been supposed by some that the command of S. Germain not to wear gold, &c., indicates that she was of wealthy parents, and they are disposed to doubt the common tradition of the place, and the ancient Breviary, which says that she kept sheep for her father on the slopes of Valerien [Pg 48] at Nanterre. But there need be no difficulty upon this point, for the sons and daughters of men of some position, at that period, were thus employed, and there was not supposed to be anything demeaning in the office. Thus, S. Cuthbert, though of noble race, kept sheep on the Northumbrian moors.

Some people believe that St. Germain's command not to wear gold, etc., suggests she came from a wealthy family. They tend to question the local legend and the old Breviary, which states that she tended sheep for her father on the slopes of Valerien at Nanterre. However, this shouldn't be a concern because the sons and daughters of well-off people were often engaged in such work at that time, and it wasn't seen as a demeaning job. Similarly, St. Cuthbert, despite being of noble descent, herded sheep on the Northumbrian moors.

At the age of fifteen she was presented to the Bishop of Paris, to be consecrated to the religious life. With her were two other virgins, and though she was the youngest of the three, the bishop, moved by some interior inspiration, placed her first, saying that heaven had already sanctified her.

At the age of fifteen, she was presented to the Bishop of Paris to be dedicated to a religious life. Alongside her were two other young women, and although she was the youngest of the three, the bishop, inspired by a deep intuition, placed her first, stating that heaven had already blessed her.

On the death of her parents, she moved to Paris, where she was remarked for her sanctity and miraculous powers. When S. Germain was on his way to Britain again, he passed through Paris, and asked after Genoveva, when certain envious persons tried to poison his mind against her; but he, despising their slanders, greeted her with great kindness openly, so as to testify before all the people how highly he honoured her, as he had done before at Nanterre.

On the death of her parents, she moved to Paris, where she was noted for her holiness and miraculous abilities. When St. Germain was heading to Britain again, he passed through Paris and inquired about Genoveva. Some envious people tried to turn him against her, but he, dismissing their gossip, greeted her warmly in public to show everyone how much he respected her, just as he had done before in Nanterre.

The influence exerted by this holy woman must have been very great, for she persuaded the Parisians to remain in the city, instead of flying into the country, when the hosts of Attila, King of the Huns, threatened it. Then Genoveva assembled the pious matrons, and with them fasted, and prayed, asking God incessantly, with many tears, to avert the scourge of the Huns from the city.

The influence of this holy woman must have been significant, as she convinced the Parisians to stay in the city instead of fleeing to the countryside when Attila, the King of the Huns, threatened it. Genoveva then gathered the devoted women and, along with them, fasted and prayed, continuously asking God, with many tears, to protect the city from the threat of the Huns.

S. GENOVEVA

A tumult, however, arose; many people saying that she was a false prophet, and that she would bring ruin on the citizens by dissuading them from escaping with their goods to places of greater security. The mob, headlong and cruel—as a Parisian mob has ever been—came upon her to stone her, or drown her in the Seine, and they would have carried their ferocious purpose into execution, had not her ancient friend and father in God, S. Germain, stood by her in her extremity. He was then dying at Auxerre, and his thoughts turned to the little girl he had consecrated to God in bygone years, in the humble church of Nanterre. Then, he bade the archdeacon take to her the Eulogæ, or blessed bread,[17] in token of love and regard.

A commotion broke out; many people said she was a false prophet and that she would bring disaster to the citizens by discouraging them from escaping with their belongings to safer places. The mob, reckless and harsh—just like any Parisian mob has always been—rushed at her to stone her or drown her in the Seine, and they would have followed through with their brutal intent if her old friend and spiritual father, S. Germain, hadn't stood by her in her moment of need. He was dying at Auxerre, and his thoughts went to the little girl he had dedicated to God years ago in the humble church of Nanterre. Then, he told the archdeacon to take her the Eulogæ, or blessed bread,[17] as a sign of love and care.

The archdeacon arrived when the feeble woman was in greatest peril. He had heard the prophecy of S. Germain of old; and, running among the people, he exhibited the Eulogies sent by the holy bishop, and told them how highly he had venerated her virtues; so he appeased the multitude and dispersed them.

The archdeacon showed up when the weak woman was in the most danger. He remembered the old prophecy of S. Germain, and as he moved through the crowd, he shared the praises sent by the holy bishop, explaining how much he admired her virtues. This calmed the crowd and sent them away.

The saying of the Apostle was fulfilled, "All men have not faith; but the Lord is faithful, who shall stablish you, and keep you from evil;" for by the prayers of S. Genoveva the city was preserved, and the army of Alaric came not near it.

The Apostle's saying came true, "Not everyone has faith; but the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen you and protect you from evil;" for through the prayers of St. Genevieve, the city was saved, and the army of Alaric did not approach it.

S. Genoveva lived on a little barley bread, and a few beans stewed in oil; but after she was aged fifty, at the command of the bishop, she ate also fish, and drank milk. Feeling a great reverence for S. Denis, she desired greatly to build a church in his honour, and she, one day, urged some priests to undertake the work. But they hesitated, saying that they were not able to do so; one reason being that there was no means of burning lime. Then S. Genoveva said, "Go, and cross the city bridge, and tell me what you hear." The priests left her, and as they passed over the bridge, they heard two swineherds in conversation. One said to the other, "Whilst I was following one of my pigs the other day, it led me into the forest to a large limekiln."

S. Genoveva lived on a small diet of barley bread and a few beans cooked in oil; but after she turned fifty, at the bishop's command, she also ate fish and drank milk. Feeling a deep respect for S. Denis, she was very eager to build a church in his honor, and one day, she encouraged some priests to take on the project. However, they hesitated, saying they couldn't do it; one reason being that there was no way to burn lime. Then S. Genoveva replied, "Go, cross the city bridge, and tell me what you hear." The priests left her, and as they crossed the bridge, they overheard two swineherds talking. One said to the other, "While I was following one of my pigs the other day, it led me into the forest to a large limekiln."

"That is no marvel," answered the other, "for I found a sapling in the forest uprooted by the wind, and under its roots was an old kiln." On hearing this, the priests returned and told Genoveva what the swineherds had said, and she rejoiced, and set the Priest Genes over the work; and all the citizens, at the instigation of S. Genoveva, assisted; and she encouraged the workmen, till the church of S. Denis was built and roofed in. This incident is not a little curious, as it exhibits the fall and prostration of the arts at this period, when, apparently, the science of building was forgotten, and old Roman limekilns had to be used, because the Gauls, owing to the incursions of barbarians and civil war, had lost the art of building them.

"That's not surprising," replied the other, "because I found a sapling in the forest that had been uprooted by the wind, and underneath it was an old kiln." When the priests heard this, they went back and told Genoveva what the swineherds had said, and she was happy. She put Priest Genes in charge of the work, and all the citizens, inspired by St. Genoveva, helped out. She motivated the workers until the church of St. Denis was built and had a roof. This incident is quite interesting, as it highlights the decline of the arts during this time, when it seemed the knowledge of building had been lost, and old Roman limekilns had to be used, because the Gauls, due to barbarian invasions and civil wars, had forgotten how to build them.

Childeric, though a heathen, had a great respect for Genoveva, and was unable to refuse her, when she requested him, to spare the lives of his prisoners. On one occasion, when he was about to execute, outside the city, a large number of captives made in war, he ordered the gates to be closed behind him, lest Genoveva should follow, and obtain pardon for them. But when the saintly woman heard that the blood of so many men was about to flow, in a paroxysm of compassion, she hurried through the streets, and reaching the gates, put her hand to them, and though locked and barred, they unclosed at the touch of charity, and she pursued the king; and, falling down before him, would not be comforted till she had obtained pardon for all those whom he had ordered to be executed. After Paris was blockaded by the Franks, the neighbourhood suffered greatly from famine, as the harvests had been destroyed and the country laid waste. Genoveva, seeing that many died of want, conducted vessels to Arcis, and procuring sufficient supplies, returned with them to Paris.

Childeric, despite being a pagan, had a deep respect for Genoveva and couldn't refuse her request to spare the lives of his prisoners. One time, when he was about to execute a large number of war captives outside the city, he had the gates shut behind him to prevent Genoveva from following him and pleading for their lives. However, when the saintly woman learned that so many men were about to be killed, she rushed through the streets. Arriving at the gates, she touched them, and despite being locked and barred, they opened at her touch out of compassion. She chased after the king and, kneeling before him, insisted on obtaining mercy for all those he had sentenced to death. After Paris was besieged by the Franks, the area suffered severely from famine because the harvests had been ruined and the land was devastated. Seeing many people dying from hunger, Genoveva took vessels to Arcis, collected enough supplies, and returned to Paris with them.

Every Saturday night, Genoveva was wont to watch in prayer, that the Lord coming in the Holy Eucharist of His [Pg 51] day, might find his servant watching. It fell out that one stormy night, as the Sabbath drew towards Sunday morn, and the cock had crowed, she left her home to betake herself to the church of S. Denis, with the virgins who were her fellows, and the lantern that was carried before her was extinguished by a puff of wind; then the maidens were frightened at the pitch darkness, the howling of the storm, and the rain, and the road was so muddy that, without a light, they could not pick their way. Then Genoveva took the lantern in her hand, and the candle lighted of itself within; and holding it, she entered the church.

Every Saturday night, Genoveva would watch and pray, so that the Lord, coming in the Holy Eucharist of His [Pg 51] day, would find His servant alert. One stormy night, as the Sabbath was turning into Sunday morning and the rooster had crowed, she left her home to go to the church of S. Denis with the young women who were her companions. The lantern that was being carried in front of her was blown out by a gust of wind; the young women became scared of the deep darkness, the howling storm, and the rain, and the road was so muddy that they couldn’t find their way without a light. Then Genoveva took the lantern in her hand, and the candle inside lit by itself; holding it, she entered the church.

She performed several pilgrimages to the shrine of S. Martin, at Tours, in company with those holy women who lived with her, and imitated her virtues. She died at the age of eighty-nine, probably in the year 512; but the date is not to be ascertained with certainty.

She made several pilgrimages to the shrine of St. Martin in Tours, accompanied by the holy women who lived with her and followed her example. She passed away at the age of eighty-nine, likely in the year 512, but the exact date can't be confirmed.

Patroness of Paris.

Patron saint of Paris.

Relics, in the church of S. Etienne du Mont, at Paris.

Relics, in the church of St. Etienne du Mont, in Paris.

In art, S. Genoveva is represented, (1), with a devil blowing out her candle, and an angel rekindling it. Sometimes, in old sculpture, the devil is provided with a pair of bellows; or, (2), she is restoring sight to her mother with the water of the well of Nanterre; or, (3), guarding her father's sheep; or, (4), with the keys of Paris at her girdle, as patroness of the city; or, (5), holding bread in her lap; or, (6), with the well of Nanterre at her side.

In art, S. Genoveva is shown, (1), with a devil blowing out her candle and an angel lighting it again. Sometimes, in older sculptures, the devil has a pair of bellows; or, (2), she is giving her mother back her sight using the water from the well of Nanterre; or, (3), protecting her father's sheep; or, (4), with the keys of Paris at her waist, as the city's patroness; or, (5), holding bread in her lap; or, (6), with the well of Nanterre beside her.

S. BERTILIA, V.

(a.d. 687.)

(A.D. 687.)

[Belgian and Gallo-Belgian Martyrologies. The life is from a MS. at Marolles, of uncertain date, but apparently authentic.]

[Belgian and Gallo-Belgian Martyrologies. The account is from a manuscript at Marolles, dated uncertainly, but it appears to be genuine.]

Saint Bertilia was born of noble parents. From an early [Pg 52] age her heart turned to the service of God alone, and she delighted in attending the offices of religion. A youth of noble blood, named Guthland, sought her hand in marriage, for she was very beautiful, gentle in speech, and modest in manner. But Bertilia refused him, desiring to retire into a solitary place; however, when her parents urged her vehemently, she gave a reluctant consent to their wishes, and was married. Nevertheless, at her desire, the young husband and she lived together in all chastity, as brother and sister, serving the poor, and given to hospitality. On the death of her husband, she divided his goods with the Church, and built a great church at Marolles, with a little cell adjoining it for her habitation. One night, after long protracted prayer in the church, she returned to her cell, where she was seized with excruciating pains; nevertheless, she knelt down and prayed with fervour, and prepared her soul for its departure. After having received the last Sacraments, she fell asleep in Christ, and was buried in the church she had built at Marolles. She was taken up and enshrined by Gerard II., Bishop of Cambray, on September 14th, 1081; and translated to another shrine on the 8th October, 1221.

Saint Bertilia was born to noble parents. From a young age, her heart was devoted to serving God, and she took great joy in attending religious services. A young man of noble lineage named Guthland sought to marry her because she was very beautiful, spoke gently, and behaved modestly. However, Bertilia turned him down, wanting to withdraw to a solitary life. When her parents insisted strongly, she reluctantly agreed to their wishes and got married. Still, at her request, she and her husband lived together in complete chastity, like brother and sister, dedicating themselves to helping the poor and being hospitable. After her husband's death, she shared his possessions with the Church and built a large church at Marolles, along with a small cell for herself next to it. One night, after a long period of prayer in the church, she returned to her cell, where she was struck with intense pain. Nevertheless, she knelt and prayed fervently, preparing her soul for its departure. After receiving the last Sacraments, she fell asleep in Christ and was buried in the church she built at Marolles. She was later taken up and enshrined by Gerard II, Bishop of Cambray, on September 14, 1081, and translated to another shrine on October 8, 1221.

Patroness of Marolles, in the diocese of Cambray.

Patron of Marolles, in the diocese of Cambrai.

Relics at Marolles.

Relics in Marolles.

FOOTNOTES:

[17] The custom of blessing bread and distributing it amongst the faithful, prevails still in the French Church, as may be seen at any festival in a church of importance. The blessed bread is not to be confounded with the Holy Eucharist. It is taken about the church in baskets, and is a sort of sweet-cake. This is a relic of the ancient Love Feasts or Agapæ.

[17] The tradition of blessing bread and sharing it among the congregation continues in the French Church, as you can observe during any significant church festival. The blessed bread is different from the Holy Eucharist. It is carried around the church in baskets and is like a sweet cake. This practice is a remnant of the ancient Love Feasts or Agapæ.


January 4.

Octave of the Holy Innocents.

Octave of the Holy Innocents.

S. Titus, B. and Ap. of Crete, circ. a.d. 105.
SS. Aquilinus, Geminus, Eugenius, and Others, Martyrs in Africa.
S. Dafrosa, W. C., at Rome, a.d. 361.
S. Rumon, B. C., at Tavistock, in Devonshire.
S. Gregory, B. of Langres, in France, circ. a.d. 541.
S. Pharaildis, V., in Brabant, about a.d. 745.
S. Rigobert, B. of Rheims, a.d. 749.
S. Libentius, Abp. of Bremen, a.d. 1013.
B. Angela, of Foligni, in Umbria, a.d. 1309.

St. Titus, Bishop and Apostle of Crete, around AD 105.
St. Aquilinus, Geminus, Eugenius, and Others, Martyrs in Africa.
St. Dafrosa, Virgin and Martyr, in Rome, AD 361.
St. Rumon, Bishop and Confessor, in Tavistock, Devonshire.
St. Gregory, Bishop of Langres, France, around AD 541.
St. Pharaildis, Virgin, in Brabant, about AD 745.
St. Rigobert, Bishop of Rheims, AD 749.
St. Libentius, Archbishop of Bremen, AD 1013.
Blessed Angela, of Foligni, in Umbria, AD 1309.

S. TITUS, B.

(about 105.)

(about 105.)

[S. Titus is commemorated on this day in the Roman, and all the Latin Martyrologies. But the Greeks observe the feast of S. Titus on August 25th. Much of his history can be gathered from the first and second epistles of S. Paul to the Corinthians, and from his epistle to S. Titus; also from the Greek Menologium, and his life, written by Zenas, the lawyer, in the Menæa; and that by Peter de Natalibus, compiled from Greek sources.]

S. Titus is honored today in the Roman and all Latin Martyrologies. However, the Greeks celebrate the feast of S. Titus on August 25th. Much of his history is found in the first and second letters of S. Paul to the Corinthians and in his letter to S. Titus, as well as in the Greek Menologium and his life story written by Zenas, the lawyer, in the Menæa, and by Peter de Natalibus, compiled from Greek sources.

S.

aint Titus was born of Gentile parents, being descended from the ancient royal family of Crete.[18] He was a favourite companion of S. Paul, who calls him his son in Christ. His virtue gained him the particular esteem of this Apostle; for we find him employed as secretary and interpreter by S. Paul; and the Apostle styles him his brother.[19] On one occasion, when much depressed, he was consoled by the presence of Titus: "God, that comforteth those that are cast down, comforted us by the coming of Titus;"[20] and he testified, on another occasion, that he found no rest in his spirit, because at Troas he had not met Titus.[21]

Titus was born to Gentile parents and came from the ancient royal family of Crete.[18] He was a close companion of Paul, who referred to him as his son in Christ. His character earned him the special respect of this Apostle; he served as Paul’s secretary and interpreter, and Paul called him his brother.[19] One time, when Paul was feeling down, he found comfort in Titus's presence: "God, who comforts those who are downcast, comforted us by the coming of Titus;"[20] and he noted on another occasion that he had no peace in his spirit because he hadn’t met Titus when he was at Troas.[21]

In the year 51, Titus accompanied S. Paul to the Council that was held at Jerusalem, on the subject of the Mosaic rites. Though the Apostle had consented to the circumcision of Timothy, in order to render his ministry more acceptable among the Jews, he would not allow the same in the case of Titus, apprehensive of giving thereby a sanction to the faction which held to the necessity of combining the rites of the Law with the Sacraments of the Gospel.

In the year 51, Titus went with S. Paul to the Council that took place in Jerusalem to discuss the Mosaic rites. Although the Apostle agreed to circumcise Timothy to make his ministry more acceptable to the Jews, he refused to do the same for Titus, fearing it would endorse the group that believed in combining the rites of the Law with the Sacraments of the Gospel.

Towards the close of the year 56, S. Paul sent Titus from Ephesus to Corinth, with full commission to remedy several subjects of scandal, and to allay the dissensions in that Church. He was there received with great respect, and was satisfied with the penance and submission of the offenders; but could not be prevailed upon to accept from them any present, not even so much as his own maintenance. His love for that Church was very great, and at the request of the Corinthians, he interceded with S. Paul for the pardon of the incestuous man whom he had excommunicated. He was sent the same year by the Apostle, a second time, to Corinth, to bring the alms of that Church to Jerusalem, for the relief of the necessity of the poor Christians there. All these particulars we learn from S. Paul's two epistles to the Corinthians.

Towards the end of the year 56, Paul sent Titus from Ephesus to Corinth, giving him full authority to address several issues of scandal and to ease the conflicts in that church. He was welcomed with great respect and was pleased with the penance and humility of those who had sinned; however, he refused to accept any gifts from them, not even for his own living expenses. His love for that church was very strong, and at the request of the Corinthians, he pleaded with Paul for the forgiveness of the man involved in incest whom he had expelled. That same year, Paul sent him again to Corinth to collect donations from that church to take to Jerusalem, to help the poor Christians in need there. We learn all these details from Paul’s two letters to the Corinthians.

S. Paul, after his first imprisonment, returning from Rome into the East, made some stay in the island of Crete, of which Rustilius, the governor, was married to the sister of S. Titus. He consecrated his beloved disciple, Titus, to be bishop of that island, and left him there to finish the work he had begun.[22] "We may form a judgment," says S. Chrysostom, "from the importance of the charge, how great was the esteem of S. Paul for his disciple."[23] But the Apostle, on his return into Europe the year after, finding the loss of such a companion too material, ordered him to meet him at Nicopolis, in Epirus, where he intended to pass the winter, as soon as Artemas or Tychicus, whom the Apostle was about to send to him, to take the place of the bishop during his absence, should arrive.[24] And when he came, he bade him assist Zenas, the lawyer, and Apollos on their journey.[25] From this Zenas we have certain incidents of the life of S. Titus, which have been preserved in a fragmentary condition in the Greek Menæa.

S. Paul, after his first imprisonment, returned from Rome to the East and stayed for a while on the island of Crete, where Rustilius, the governor, was married to the sister of S. Titus. He appointed his beloved disciple, Titus, as the bishop of that island and left him there to continue the work he had started.[22] "We can judge," says S. Chrysostom, "from the importance of the task, how much S. Paul valued his disciple."[23] However, when the Apostle returned to Europe the following year, he realized the loss of such a companion was significant, so he instructed him to meet him at Nicopolis in Epirus, where he planned to spend the winter, as soon as Artemas or Tychicus, whom the Apostle intended to send to take his place during his absence, arrived.[24] When he arrived, he told him to help Zenas, the lawyer, and Apollos on their journey.[25] From this Zenas, we have certain accounts of the life of S. Titus, which have been preserved in a fragmented form in the Greek Menæa.

Zenas relates the conversion of S. Titus thus:—Titus, living in the island of Crete, was learned in Greek literature, having been studious in youth. But the dreams of the poets and philosophers did not satisfy the inward craving of his soul after truth. One day, when twenty years old, he heard a voice say to him, "Titus, depart hence and save thy soul, for the learning of the Greeks will not profit thee unto salvation." Wondering in himself what this could mean, he was bidden by the same voice to take up a Hebrew volume that he had long disregarded, and open it. And the book was the Prophet Isaiah, and the place of the Scriptures that his eye rested on was this, "Keep silence before me, O islands; and let the people renew their strength: let them come near; then let them speak,"[26] and what follows.

Zenas shares the story of S. Titus's conversion like this:—Titus, living in the island of Crete, was well-versed in Greek literature, having been a diligent student in his youth. However, the ideas of the poets and philosophers did not satisfy his deep longing for truth. One day, when he was twenty years old, he heard a voice say to him, "Titus, leave here and save your soul, for the knowledge of the Greeks will not lead to your salvation." Puzzled by this message, he was instructed by the same voice to pick up a Hebrew book that he had long ignored and open it. The book was the Prophet Isaiah, and the passage that caught his attention was this, "Keep silence before me, O islands; and let the people renew their strength: let them come near; then let them speak,"[26] and what follows.

He seems to have read on much of that chapter, with its promise to the isles, and to have applied to himself the words, "Thou whom I have taken from the ends of the earth, and called thee from the chief men thereof, and said unto thee, Thou art my servant; I have chosen thee, and not cast thee away. Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.... When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue faileth for thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not forsake them."[27] These were words very different from those of the poets of Greece, and gave an idea of God quite other from that formed by Homer, in whose writings he had found delight; so Titus left his Greek studies and his native island, and sought Jerusalem, the chief city of that people of whom the prophet spake such great things. And when he was there he saw Jesus, and heard Him teach. Perhaps he was one of those Greeks whom S. Andrew brought to Christ.[28] He believed, and was of the number of the first disciples. He remained at Jerusalem after the ascension and the descent of the Holy Ghost. After he joined S. Paul, he accompanied him in most of his journeys. In 65, S. Paul sent him to preach the Word of God in Dalmatia, after he had visited him in Nicopolis;[29] but he probably was there for no great length of time, though the Dalmatians honour him as their Apostle.

He seems to have read a lot of that chapter, with its promise to the isles, and to have applied to himself the words, "You whom I have taken from the ends of the earth, and called you from the important leaders there, and said to you, You are my servant; I have chosen you, and not rejected you. Do not be afraid; for I am with you: do not be discouraged; for I am your God: I will strengthen you; yes, I will help you; yes, I will support you with the right hand of my righteousness.... When the poor and needy seek water, and there is none, and their tongue fails from thirst, I the Lord will hear them, I the God of Israel will not abandon them."[27] These were words very different from those of the poets of Greece, and presented a concept of God quite different from that shaped by Homer, in whose writings he found joy; so Titus left his Greek studies and his home island, and sought Jerusalem, the main city of the people about whom the prophet spoke such great things. And when he was there, he saw Jesus and heard Him teach. Perhaps he was one of those Greeks whom St. Andrew brought to Christ.[28] He believed and became one of the first disciples. He stayed in Jerusalem after the ascension and the coming of the Holy Spirit. After he joined St. Paul, he traveled with him on most of his journeys. In 65, St. Paul sent him to preach the Word of God in Dalmatia, after visiting him in Nicopolis;[29] but he probably was there for a short time, although the Dalmatians honor him as their Apostle.

Peter de Natalibus relates that when death approached, he saw angels coming from heaven in a glorious train to fetch his soul, and that his face lit up with joy at their approach, and shone with supernatural splendour. He committed his people to God in long and earnest prayer, and then yielded up his spirit in peace to Christ his Saviour.

Peter de Natalibus recounts that as death neared, he witnessed angels coming from heaven in a glorious procession to take his soul. His face brightened with joy at their arrival and radiated with a supernatural glow. He entrusted his people to God through a heartfelt and extended prayer, and then peacefully surrendered his spirit to Christ, his Savior.

The body of S. Titus was kept, with great veneration, in the Cathedral of Gortyna; but that city having been ruined by the Saracens, in 823, the metropolitan see was transferred to Candia, seventeen miles from the ancient Gortyna; there the head of S. Titus was preserved, till it was carried off by the Venetians, and is now among the sacred treasures of S. Mark's, at Venice.

The body of St. Titus was held in high regard at the Cathedral of Gortyna; however, after the city was destroyed by the Saracens in 823, the main church was moved to Candia, which is seventeen miles from the old Gortyna. There, the head of St. Titus was kept until it was taken by the Venetians, and it is now part of the sacred treasures at St. Mark's in Venice.

Patron of Candia, or Crete.

Patron of Candia or Crete.

S. DAFROSA, W. C.

(a.d. 361.)

(A.D. 361.)

[Mentioned in Roman Martyrology, and in those of Bede, Ado, Notker, Maurolycus, &c. All known of her is contained in the Martyrologies.]

[Mentioned in the Roman Martyrology, as well as in those of Bede, Ado, Notker, Maurolycus, and others. All that is known about her is included in the Martyrologies.]

This Saint was the wife of S. Flavian, a martyr. She was one of the few who suffered in the reign of Julian, the Apostate; having been sentenced by Apronianus, præfect of the city, in Rome, along with her daughters, Demetria and Bibiana. S. Flavian, her husband, was crowned on the 22nd December; and she followed him shortly. She was sent to the house of a certain Faustus, who desired to have her in marriage; but she refused to become his wife, and converted him to the faith. He was baptized by S. John the priest, who is commemorated on June 23rd. Faustus was executed, and his body cast to the dogs; but Dafrosa saved it, and buried it secretly at night. Then, in a dream, her husband Flavian appeared to her, and called her to follow him. And at the expiration of five days, whilst engaged in prayer, she migrated to her heavenly country.

This Saint was the wife of St. Flavian, a martyr. She was one of the few who suffered during the reign of Julian, the Apostate; having been sentenced by Apronianus, the prefect of the city, in Rome, along with her daughters, Demetria and Bibiana. St. Flavian, her husband, was martyred on December 22nd; and she joined him shortly after. She was sent to the house of a man named Faustus, who wanted to marry her; but she refused to be his wife and instead converted him to the faith. He was baptized by St. John the priest, who is commemorated on June 23rd. Faustus was executed, and his body was thrown to the dogs; but Dafrosa saved it and secretly buried it at night. Then, in a dream, her husband Flavian appeared to her and called her to follow him. And after five days, while she was praying, she passed away to join him in heaven.

S. RUMON, B. C.

[Does not occur in the Roman Martyrology.]

[Not included in the Roman Martyrology.]

William of Malmesbury informs us that the history of S. Rumon's life was destroyed by the wars, which devastated England. He was a bishop; but of what see we do not know. Many of the early Saints of the Church in Cornwall, Wales, and Ireland, received episcopal consecration, without jurisdiction. His body was preserved at Tavistock, in Devonshire, where Ordulf, Earl of Devonshire, built a church [Pg 58] under his invocation, before the year 960.

William of Malmesbury tells us that the history of S. Rumon's life was lost due to the wars that ravaged England. He was a bishop, but we don't know which see he belonged to. Many of the early Saints of the Church in Cornwall, Wales, and Ireland were consecrated as bishops without having any jurisdiction. His body was kept at Tavistock in Devon, where Ordulf, Earl of Devon, built a church [Pg 58] in his honor before the year 960.

S. GREGORY OF LANGRES, B.

(about a.d. 541.)

(around a.d. 541.)

[Roman and Gallican Martyrologies. The life of S. Gregory of Langres was written by S. Gregory of Tours, who died 591.]

[Roman and Gallican Martyrologies. The life of Saint Gregory of Langres was written by Saint Gregory of Tours, who passed away in 591.]

Saint Gregory, one of the principal senators of Autun, in France, was appointed count of the city, and for many years administered justice with the utmost prudence and uprightness. His wife, Armentaria, was also of senatorial rank; by her he had several children, of whom Tetricus was numbered among the Saints.

Saint Gregory, one of the main senators of Autun, in France, was made the count of the city, and for many years he administered justice with great wisdom and integrity. His wife, Armentaria, was also of senatorial rank; together, they had several children, one of whom, Tetricus, was recognized as a saint.

After the death of his wife, having been elected by the clergy and citizens of Langres to be their bishop, he was consecrated by the metropolitan. As bishop, his life was edifying. He was a model of humility, and sought, above all things, to conceal his acts of self-denial, and long communings with God. He ate barley bread, but that this might not be observed, he had wheat cakes piled on the table above his brown barley cakes, so that he could draw from the dish those for his own eating, whilst the others ate white bread, and supposed him to be doing the same. In like manner, at table he used a dull glass goblet, so that it might not be noticed that he drank water, whereas, the others were supplied with wine. At night, he was wont to rise from his bed, when everybody else was asleep, and steal, on tip-toe, to the baptistery of the church, where he passed several hours in prayer and singing psalms. This was long unobserved; but one night a deacon was awake, and saw the bishop rise. Wondering at his proceeding, when S. Gregory had left the dormitory, he rose also, and stole softly after him, and saw him enter the baptistery, the gate opening to him of its own accord. For some time there was [Pg 59] silence; and then the bishop's voice was heard chanting, and immediately many voices took up the psalm, and the singing continued for three hours. "I, for my part," says S. Gregory, of Tours, "think that the Saints, of whom the relics were there preserved, revealed themselves to the blessed man, and sang praises to God in company with him."

After his wife's death, he was elected as the bishop by the clergy and citizens of Langres and was consecrated by the metropolitan. As bishop, he lived an inspiring life. He was a true example of humility, always trying to hide his self-denial and deep conversations with God. He ate barley bread but made sure no one noticed. He kept wheat cakes piled on the table above his brown barley cakes so he could take from the dish for himself while others had white bread, believing he was eating the same. Similarly, at the table, he used a dull glass goblet to avoid drawing attention to the fact that he drank water while others were served wine. At night, he would often get out of bed when everyone else was asleep and quietly make his way to the church's baptistery, where he spent several hours in prayer and singing psalms. This went unnoticed for a long time until one night a deacon, who was awake, saw the bishop get up. Curious about what he was doing, after S. Gregory left the dormitory, the deacon quietly followed him and saw him enter the baptistery, where the gate opened by itself. For a while, there was silence, and then the bishop's voice was heard chanting, followed by many voices joining in the psalm, and the singing went on for three hours. "I, for my part," says S. Gregory of Tours, "believe that the saints, whose relics were kept there, revealed themselves to the blessed man and sang praises to God alongside him."

One day, as he was walking to Langres, he was struck with fever, and he died shortly after; "and his blessed countenance was so glorified after his departure, that it looked like a blushing rose, whilst the rest of his body was shining like a white lily, so that it seemed then to have a foretaste of its future resurrection beauty." He was buried at Dijon, which was then in the diocese of Langres, and his son, Tetricus, succeeded him in the see of Langres.

One day, while he was walking to Langres, he fell ill with a fever and died shortly after. "His blessed face looked so radiant after his passing that it resembled a blushing rose, while the rest of his body shone like a white lily, giving a glimpse of its future beauty in resurrection." He was buried in Dijon, which at the time was part of the diocese of Langres, and his son, Tetricus, took over his position in the see of Langres.

There is much uncertainty about the date of his death. In some Martyrologies he is said to have died in 535; Galesinius says in 524. But he was present at the Council of Clermont, in 535, and signed the decrees of the third Council of Orleans by his deputy, Evantius, the priest, in 538; but did not appear at, or send a deputy to, the fourth Council of Orleans, in 541. It is, therefore, probable that the see was then vacant by his death.

There is a lot of uncertainty about the date of his death. Some martyrologies say he died in 535; Galesinius states it was in 524. However, he was at the Council of Clermont in 535 and had his deputy, Priest Evantius, sign the decrees of the third Council of Orleans in 538. But he didn’t attend or send a deputy to the fourth Council of Orleans in 541. Therefore, it’s likely that the see was vacant due to his death.

In art, S. Gregory appears before a church door, which an angel opens to him; or with chains, because it is said that as his body was being taken to burial, the bier was set down before a prison, and the chains fell off the prisoners, [Pg 60] and they were freed at the same moment.

In art, S. Gregory is shown standing in front of a church door, which an angel opens for him; or with chains, because it is said that when his body was being taken for burial, the coffin was placed down in front of a prison, and the chains fell off the prisoners, [Pg 60] and they were freed at the same moment.

S. PHARAILDIS, V.

(about a.d. 745.)

(about A.D. 745.)

[Belgian and German Martyrologies. Authorities for her life:—A MS. life from the monastery of Mont Gerard, published by the Bollandists, and by Molanus on the Belgian Saints. Besides, we have mention of her in the lives of her mother and sisters.]

[Belgian and German Martyrologies. Sources for her life:—A manuscript biography from the monastery of Mont Gerard, published by the Bollandists and by Molanus in the records of the Belgian Saints. She is also mentioned in the biographies of her mother and sisters.]

Saint Pharaildis was the daughter of Theodoric, duke of Lorraine, and his wife, S. Amalberga. The family was one of Saints. The brother of S. Pharaildis, on the mother's side, was S. Emenbert, Bishop of Cambray, and her sisters were S. Rainelda and S. Gudula. She was born at Ghent, and after her baptism, was taken by her aunt, S. Gertrude, to be by her brought up. She was married, but lived with her husband as though single. For thirty years she rose every night at cock-crow, and sought the church of the nearest monastery to hear prime, and matins, and lauds. She died at the age of ninety, and was buried in the church of S. Bavo, in Ghent, a.d. 745, but afterwards was carried to Nivelles by the religious of Ghent, fleeing the incursions of the Normans. A portion of the relics was left at Nivelles, but the major part was brought back to Ghent, and enshrined in the new church of S. Pharaildis, which was destroyed by the Calvinists in 1566. The relics, however, were saved. On the 17th Dec., 1608, the chapter of S. Pharaildis, in Ghent, gave some portion to a little chapel at Steenockerzeel.

Saint Pharaildis was the daughter of Theodoric, duke of Lorraine, and his wife, S. Amalberga. The family was known for their saintly connections. S. Pharaildis's brother on her mother’s side was S. Emenbert, Bishop of Cambray, and her sisters were S. Rainelda and S. Gudula. She was born in Ghent, and after her baptism, her aunt, S. Gertrude, took her in to raise her. She got married but lived with her husband as if she were single. For thirty years, she would wake up every night at dawn to go to the nearest monastery to attend morning prayers, including prime, matins, and lauds. She passed away at the age of ninety and was buried in the church of S. Bavo in Ghent, AD 745. Later, her remains were moved to Nivelles by the religious community from Ghent, escaping from the Norman invasions. A portion of her relics stayed in Nivelles, but most of them were returned to Ghent and placed in the new church of S. Pharaildis, which the Calvinists destroyed in 1566. However, the relics were preserved. On December 17, 1608, the chapter of S. Pharaildis in Ghent gave some of the relics to a small chapel in Steenockerzeel.

In Flemish, S. Pharaildis is called Veerle, or Verelde.

In Flemish, S. Pharaildis is known as Veerle or Verelde.

In art, S. Pharaildis appears as a patroness of Ghent, with a goose in her arms, or at her feet, Gans being the Flemish for a goose; in base Latin, Ganta or Gansa; and the Latin name of Ghent, in the Middle Ages, being Gantum. She is also represented with loaves of bread; for, according to [Pg 61] a legend, a woman having begged bread of her sister for her child, the sister said, "I have none to give to you; there's no bread in the house." And when the poor woman urged her, she exclaimed, "May S. Pharaildis change the bread into stones if there be any here." Whereupon, some loaves she had by her were petrified.

In art, S. Pharaildis is shown as the patroness of Ghent, holding a goose in her arms or at her feet, with "Gans" being the Flemish word for a goose; in basic Latin, it's "Ganta" or "Gansa," and the Latin name for Ghent in the Middle Ages was "Gantum." She's also depicted with loaves of bread; according to [Pg 61] a legend, a woman asked her sister for bread for her child, and the sister replied, "I don't have any to give you; there's no bread in the house." When the poor woman insisted, she exclaimed, "May S. Pharaildis turn the bread into stones if there is any here." As a result, some loaves she had nearby turned to stone.

S. RIGOBERT, ABP. OF RHEIMS.

(about a.d. 749.)

(around A.D. 749.)

[Roman, Benedictine, and Gallican Martyrologies. Authority:—A life of the 9th cent.]

[Roman, Benedictine, and Gallican Martyrologies. Source:—A biography from the 9th century.]

Saint Rigobert, a Benedictine monk, was ordained archbishop of Rheims in the year 696. He consecrated Dagobert II., Chilperic II., and Theoderic II., kings of the Franks. In his diocese he laboured to restore discipline and sanctity of life. When Charles Martel and Ragenfried were fighting for the mastery, the former came with his troops before Rheims, and demanded to be admitted. The bishop refused to open the gates, "Because," said he, "I know not whether you or Ragenfried will be given the kingdom." Charles Martel went away in a fury, and vowed, if he gained the day, he would make the cautious archbishop suffer for it. When Charles Martel had subdued his rival, he returned to Rheims, and drove S. Rigobert into exile, and gave the revenues of the see to laymen, creatures of the court. Whilst at Rheims, S. Rigobert had lived over the city gate, and kept the keys of the town. The window of his chamber looked towards the Basilica of S. Remigius, and at it he was wont to pray, like Daniel, with his face turned to Jerusalem. That he might easily, and at will, descend into the church of S. Peter, which was situated near the gateway, S. Rigobert [Pg 62] had a hole knocked in a turret of the church, so that by a ladder he could descend into the church to prayer, and return by it to a little oratory, dedicated to S. Michael, which he had built on the city wall. But this oratory did not stand very long, for King Louis gave the monastery of S. Peter to his daughter Alpaida; and her husband, Begus, having knocked his head against the lintel of the door when entering the little chapel—he being a very tall man—ordered it to be pulled down, pretending that it cut off the light from the windows of the church. "Humility," says the chronicler dryly, "never knocks its head against any thing."

Saint Rigobert, a Benedictine monk, was made archbishop of Rheims in 696. He consecrated Dagobert II, Chilperic II, and Theoderic II, kings of the Franks. In his diocese, he worked hard to restore discipline and a holy way of life. When Charles Martel and Ragenfried were fighting for control, Charles came with his troops to Rheims and demanded entrance. The bishop refused to open the gates, saying, "Because I don’t know whether you or Ragenfried will be given the kingdom." Charles Martel left in a rage and vowed that if he won, he would make the cautious archbishop pay for it. Once Charles Martel defeated his opponent, he returned to Rheims, exiled Saint Rigobert, and gave the bishopric’s income to court favorites. While in Rheims, Saint Rigobert lived above the city gate and held the keys to the city. The window of his room faced the Basilica of Saint Remigius, and he often prayed towards it, like Daniel, with his face turned to Jerusalem. To easily access the church of Saint Peter, which was close to the gateway, Saint Rigobert had a hole cut in a turret of the church so that he could descend by ladder to pray and return to a small chapel dedicated to Saint Michael, which he had built on the city wall. However, this chapel didn’t last long because King Louis gave the monastery of Saint Peter to his daughter Alpaida; and her husband, Begus, after knocking his head against the doorframe while entering the small chapel—being a very tall man—ordered it to be torn down, claiming it blocked the light from the church windows. "Humility," the chronicler notes dryly, "never knocks its head against anything."

S. Rigobert, when in exile, retired to Gascony, but was recalled by Pepin, and returned to Rheims; but finding that, contrary to canon law, Milo, an abbot, had been appointed to the see, he went away to Gernicour, a village at no great distance. At Gernicour, he lived in poverty, in great humility and prayer; sometimes he visited Rheims, that he might celebrate on the altar of S. Mary, which had been conceded to him by Milo. One day he was at Cormicy, and visited the church of S. Cyriac, to pray for his poor diocese, a prey to ravening wolves; and his prayer being ended, he conversed with Wibert, comptroller of Rheims, who invited him to dine with him, as the table was ready. But S. Rigobert answered, "I may not eat, as I have to celebrate mass this morning in the church of S. Peter, at Gernicour." Whilst he was speaking, a poor widow brought the deputy-governor a goose. "Here," said Wibert, "as you will not dine with me, take this goose home with you, and cook it for your own dinner." Then S. Rigobert gave it to his little serving boy to carry before him; and he went on his way saying his office; when the goose flew out of the boy's hands, and was gone. The boy was much grieved, and was on the point of crying. The bishop, seeing the sad face of [Pg 63] the child, interrupted his psalm to console him, and to tell him that the loss of this world's goods should not draw forth tears, but that the heart should trust in God, who gives all things bountifully. Then the bishop resumed his psalms, now reciting them to himself, and then breaking forth into song. Presently the goose came fluttering down before the feet of the old man, so the boy put it under his arm again, and brought it safely to Gernicour. But it was not cooked for dinner. Indeed, the bishop would not allow it to be killed, and the goose became so tame, that it followed him about, and would even accompany him on his walks to Rheims, and wait there for him when he said mass at the altar of S. Mary.

S. Rigobert, when he was in exile, went to Gascony, but was called back by Pepin and returned to Rheims. However, discovering that, against canon law, an abbot named Milo had been appointed to the position, he left for Gernicour, a nearby village. In Gernicour, he lived in poverty, with great humility and prayer; sometimes he would visit Rheims to celebrate mass at the altar of S. Mary, which Milo had allowed him to use. One day, while in Cormicy, he visited the church of S. Cyriac to pray for his struggling diocese, which was being attacked like prey by wolves. After he finished his prayer, he spoke with Wibert, the comptroller of Rheims, who invited him to dine with him since the meal was ready. But S. Rigobert replied, "I can’t eat, as I need to celebrate mass this morning at the church of S. Peter in Gernicour." While he was speaking, a poor widow brought the deputy-governor a goose. Wibert said, "Since you won’t dine with me, take this goose home and cook it for your dinner." S. Rigobert then handed it to his young servant to carry, and he continued on his way reciting his prayers, when the goose slipped out of the boy's hands and flew away. The boy was very upset and was about to cry. The bishop, noticing the child's sad expression, paused his psalm to comfort him, saying that losing material things should not bring tears and that one should trust in God, who provides everything abundantly. Then the bishop resumed his psalms, sometimes reciting them quietly and then breaking into song. Soon, the goose came fluttering back down in front of the old man, so the boy picked it up under his arm again and safely brought it back to Gernicour. However, it was not cooked for dinner, as the bishop refused to let it be killed, and the goose became so tame that it followed him around and even accompanied him on his walks to Rheims, waiting for him while he said mass at the altar of S. Mary.

Relics, in the church of S. Denis, at Rheims, and in the chapel of S. Rigobert, in the Cathedral of Notre Dame, at Paris.

Relics, in the church of S. Denis, at Rheims, and in the chapel of S. Rigobert, in the Cathedral of Notre Dame, at Paris.

In art, he is represented with a goose.

In art, he's depicted with a goose.

B. ANGELA. OF FOLIGNI.

(a.d. 1309.)

(A.D. 1309.)

[B. Angela was beatified by Pope Innocent XII. in 1693. Her life and revelations were written by her confessor, Arnald, friar of the order of S. Francis, in her lifetime, and the revelations were submitted to her for correction.]

B. Angela was declared blessed by Pope Innocent XII in 1693. Her life and visions were recorded by her confessor, Arnald, a friar from the Order of St. Francis, while she was still alive, and she reviewed the revelations for accuracy.

The Blessed Angela, of Foligni, belonged to a rich and honourable family in Umbria. She was married, and had children. Upon the death of her mother, husband, and children, her heart turned in an agony of love to God alone, and appeared filled to overflowing with that divine charity of which an earthly affection is but a reflection. She was frequent in prayer, and made a discreet use of the Sacrament [Pg 64] of penance. "Once she confessed her sins to me," says Friar Arnald, "preserving the most perfect knowledge of her sins, and was filled with so much contrition and tears, from the beginning of her confession to the end, and with so great humility, that I wept in my heart, believing most surely, that if the whole world was deceived, God would not permit her, who was full of so much truth and integrity, to be deceived. The following night she was sick, well nigh to death, and next morning she drew herself, with great effort, to the Franciscan Church, and I was then saying mass, and I communicated her, and I know that she never communicated without God giving her some great favour, and that a new one continually. But so great were the consolations and illuminations which she received in her soul, that frequently they seemed to overflow into her body. Thus, when she was standing with me, and her soul was lifted up, her face and body were transformed, through joy, at the divine words of address, and devotion, and delight at the consolations, that her eyes shone as candles, and her face flushed like a rose, and became radiant and angelical, as was beyond nature."

The Blessed Angela of Foligno came from a wealthy and respected family in Umbria. She was married and had children. After her mother, husband, and children passed away, her heart turned in deep love to God alone, overflowing with the divine charity that earthly affection only reflects. She prayed frequently and made careful use of the Sacrament of penance. "Once she confessed her sins to me," says Friar Arnald, "showing perfect awareness of her sins, and was filled with so much contrition and tears, from the start of her confession to the end, along with such great humility, that I wept inside, truly believing that if the whole world was deceived, God would not allow her, who was filled with so much truth and integrity, to be misled. That very night she fell seriously ill, almost to death, and the next morning she made a great effort to go to the Franciscan Church while I was saying mass. I administered communion to her, and I know she never received communion without God granting her a great favor, often new ones. The consolations and insights she received in her soul were so profound that they often seemed to radiate into her body. When she stood with me, her soul uplifted, her face and body transformed with joy at the divine words of address, and with devotion and delight in the consolations, her eyes shone like candles, and her face flushed like a rose, becoming radiant and angelic, surpassing what is natural."

The inner life and meditations of the Blessed Angela were written down from her lips, and were read over to her by the confessor. They are full of instruction and beauty, and are of considerable length. She died on the 4th January, 1309.

The inner thoughts and reflections of Blessed Angela were recorded from her words and were reviewed with her by her confessor. They are rich in wisdom and beauty, and quite extensive. She passed away on January 4, 1309.

Her body reposes in a shrine in the Franciscan Church at Foligni.

Her body rests in a shrine in the Franciscan Church in Foligni.

FOOTNOTES:

[18] Peter de Nat.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Peter de Nat.

[19] 2 Cor. xii. 16.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 2 Cor. 12:16.

[20] 2 Cor. vii. 6.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 2 Cor. 7:6.

[21] 2 Cor. xi. 13.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 2 Cor. 11:13.

[22] Zenas and Peter de Nat. The latter does not say that S. Paul visited Crete, but that he sent Titus there. S. Paul says, "I left thee in Crete," Tit. i. 4, showing that he did visit that island with Titus.

[22] Zenas and Peter de Nat. The latter doesn't state that St. Paul visited Crete, but mentions that he sent Titus there. St. Paul says, "I left you in Crete," Tit. i. 4, which indicates that he did visit that island with Titus.

[23] Homil. i. in Tit.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Homilies on Titus.

[24] Tit. iii. 12.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Titus 3:12.

[25] Tit. iv. 13.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Tit. 4:13.

[26] Isa. xli. 1.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Isaiah 41:1.

[27] Isa. xli. 9, 10, 17.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Isaiah 41:9, 10, 17.

[28] John xii. 21.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ John 12:21.

[29] 2 Tim. iv. 10.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 2 Tim. 4:10.


January 5.

The Vigil of the Epiphany.

The Epiphany Vigil.

S. Telesphorus, P. M., a.d. 139.
The Holy Martyrs in the Thebaid, a.d. 302.
S. Syncletica, V., in Egypt, 4th cent.
S. Apollinaris Syncletica, V., 5th cent.
S. Simeon Stylites, H., a.d. 460.
S. Emiliana, V., 6th cent.
S. Edward the Confessor, K. of England, a.d. 1066.
S. Gerlach, H., near Maestrecht, a.d. 1170.

S. Telesphorus, P. M., A.D. 139.
The Holy Martyrs in the Thebaid, A.D. 302.
S. Syncletica, V., in Egypt, 4th century.
S. Apollinaris Syncletica, V., 5th century.
S. Simeon Stylites, H., A.D. 460.
S. Emiliana, V., 6th century.
S. Edward the Confessor, K. of England, A.D. 1066.
S. Gerlach, H., near Maastricht, A.D. 1170.

S. TELESPHORUS, POPE, M.

(a.d. 139.)

(a.d. 139.)

[Mentioned originally in the Carmelite Breviary. This Pope was inserted in the Roman Breviary by Clement VIII. He is commemorated by the Greeks on Feb. 22.]

[Originally noted in the Carmelite Breviary. This Pope was included in the Roman Breviary by Clement VIII. The Greeks celebrate him on February 22.]

S.

aint Telesphorus was by birth a Greek, and was the seventh Bishop of Rome. Towards the end of the year 128, he succeeded S. Sixtus I., and sat eleven years on the throne of S. Peter, and saw the havoc which the persecution of Hadrian wrought in the Church. "He ended his life by an illustrious martyrdom," says Eusebius.[30]

Saint Telesphorus was born a Greek and was the seventh Bishop of Rome. Toward the end of 128, he succeeded Saint Sixtus I and served for eleven years as the bishop, witnessing the devastation caused by the persecution under Hadrian in the Church. "He ended his life with a notable martyrdom," states Eusebius.[30]

THE MARTYRS IN THE THEBAID.

(about a.d. 302.)

(around A.D. 302.)

"One cannot but admire," says Eusebius, in his Ecclesiastical History (lib. viii., c. 8, 9), "those who suffered in Egypt, their native land, where thousands, both men, and women, and children, despising the present life for the sake of our Saviour's doctrine, submitted to death in various shapes. Some, after being tortured with scrapings and the rack, and the most dreadful scourgings, and other innumerable agonies, which one might shudder to hear, were finally committed to the flames; some plunged and drowned in the sea, others voluntarily offering their heads to the executioners; others dying in the midst of their torments, some wasted away by famine, and others again fixed to the cross. Some, indeed, were executed as malefactors usually were; others, more cruelly, were nailed head downwards, and kept alive, until they were destroyed by starving, on the cross itself. But it would exceed all power of detail to give an idea of the sufferings and tortures which the martyrs of Thebais endured. These, instead of hooks, had their bodies scraped with potsherds, and were mangled in this way until they died. Women, tied by one foot, and then raised on high in the air by certain machines, with their naked bodies wholly uncovered, presented this most foul, cruel, and inhuman spectacle to all beholders; others again perished, bound to trees and branches. For, drawing the stoutest of the branches together by machines for this purpose, and binding the limbs of the martyrs to each of these, they then let loose the boughs to resume their natural position, designing thus to produce a violent action, to tear asunder the limbs of those whom they thus treated. But all these things were doing not only for a few days, or for some time, but for a series of whole years. At one time, ten or more; at another, more than twenty; at another time, not less than thirty, and even sixty; and again, at another time, a hundred men, with their wives and little children, were slain in one day, whilst they were condemned to various and varied punishments. We ourselves, when on the spot, saw many crowded together [Pg 67] in one day, some suffering decapitation, some the torments of flames; so that the murderous weapon was completely blunted, and having lost its edge, broke to pieces; and the executioners themselves, wearied with slaughter, were obliged to relieve one another. Then, also, we were witnesses to the most admirable ardour of mind, and the truly divine energy and alacrity of those that believed in the Christ of God. For, as soon as the sentence was pronounced against the first, others rushed forward from other parts to the tribunal before the judge, confessing they were Christians, most indifferent to the dreadful and many kinds of tortures that awaited them, but declaring themselves fully, and in the most undaunted manner, on the religion which acknowledges only one Supreme God. They received, indeed, the final sentence of death with gladness and exultation, so far as even to sing and send up hymns of praise and thanksgiving, until they breathed their last."

"One cannot help but admire," says Eusebius in his Ecclesiastical History (lib. viii., c. 8, 9), "those who suffered in Egypt, their homeland, where thousands, including men, women, and children, turned away from their current lives for the sake of our Saviour's teachings, willingly facing death in various forms. Some, after being tortured with scraping, the rack, horrible beatings, and other countless agonies that are hard to even hear about, were finally thrown into the flames; some were plunged and drowned in the sea, others willingly offered their heads to the executioners; still others died in the midst of their torments, some wasting away from starvation, and others again nailed to crosses. Some were executed as common criminals; others, more brutally, were nailed upside down and kept alive until they died from starvation on the cross itself. But it would take far too long to detail the sufferings and tortures that the martyrs of Thebais endured. These individuals had their bodies scraped with potsherds instead of hooks, and were torn apart in this way until they died. Women, tied by one foot and lifted high into the air by machines, exposed their naked bodies, providing a grotesque and inhumane spectacle for all who witnessed it; others perished bound to trees and branches. Strong branches were drawn together by machines, tying the limbs of the martyrs to each, and then released to snap back, intending to violently tear apart the limbs of those who faced such treatment. But all these things weren't happening for just a few days or a short time; they continued for years on end. Sometimes ten or more; at other times, more than twenty; sometimes not less than thirty, and even sixty; and again at different times, a hundred men, along with their wives and small children, were killed in one day, subjected to various and assorted punishments. We ourselves, when we were there, witnessed many gathered together in one day, some being decapitated, others enduring the flames; so much so that the murderous weapon became dull, lost its edge, and broke apart; and the executioners, exhausted from the killing, had to take turns. We also observed the incredible passion and truly divine energy of those who believed in the Christ of God. For, as soon as the sentence was declared against the first, others rushed forward from different areas to the judge's tribunal, confessing they were Christians, showing indifference to the terrifying and numerous tortures that awaited them, and boldly declaring their allegiance to the faith that recognizes only one Supreme God. They welcomed the death sentence with joy and praises, even singing hymns of thanks until they took their last breath."

The names of these blessed ones, whose bones are strewn over the deserts of Egypt, are unknown to us; but they are written in the Book of Life. At the day of the general Resurrection they will rise and stand, on their feet, a great army.

The names of these blessed individuals, whose bones are scattered across the deserts of Egypt, are unknown to us; but they are recorded in the Book of Life. On the day of the general Resurrection, they will rise and stand, a mighty army.

S. SYNCLETICA, V.

(4th cent.)

(4th century)

[S. Syncletica is commemorated by the Westerns on the 5th Jan., and by the Easterns on the 4th Jan. Her life, written shortly after her death, has been attributed to S. Athanasius, but on insufficient grounds.]

St. Syncletica is honored by Western Christians on January 5th and by Eastern Christians on January 4th. Her life story, written soon after her death, is attributed to St. Athanasius, although the evidence supporting this is not strong.

At a time when luxury was carried to extremities, and the body was pampered, and the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life, were the objects for which men and women lived, here and there the spirit of man throbbed with [Pg 68] higher aspirations, and yearned to break away from the gilded round of wealthy frivolity, to live a truer life and breathe a purer air. Society was rotten to its core; decency was not observed in conversation; modesty was forgotten in dress, and all that could gratify the flesh, and excite passion, was studied as an art. In the midst of this hot, sickly atmosphere of evil, pure souls, like that of Syncletica, stifled. The modest mind of a young girl shrank into itself, like a delicate flower that closes at the rude touch, and died to the world. If she were a heathen, she bent her head, and sickened and faded. If she were a Christian, she found in the shadow of the Church, a fresh spot where she might bloom, fanned by the breezes of Paradise.

In a time when luxury was taken to extremes, and people indulged their bodies while living for the pleasures of the flesh, the eye, and pride, there were still individuals whose spirits yearned for something greater. They wanted to escape the cycle of wealthy excess and seek a more authentic life with clearer principles. Society was rotting at its core; conversation lacked decency, modesty was absent from clothing, and everything that could please the body or stir desire was treated as an art form. Amidst this oppressive, unhealthy environment, pure souls like Syncletica felt suffocated. The delicate mind of a young girl withdrew, like a fragile flower closing up at a harsh touch, isolating herself from the world. If she were a pagan, she bowed her head, growing weaker and eventually fading away. If she were a Christian, she discovered in the shelter of the Church a renewed space to flourish, nourished by the winds of Paradise.

Syncletica was born at Alexandria, of wealthy parents, of Macedonian extraction, who had settled there. Being very beautiful and well-dowered, she was sought in marriage by many suitors; but declined all offers, for her girlish heart had awakened to a love truer and deeper than any human affection; the best of her love she gave to God, and she desired to be His, and His alone. On the death of her parents she devoted her attention to her blind sister; and together, they served God in prayer and almsgiving. In token of renunciation of the world, and to deliver herself from troublesome pursuit by fortune-hunters, she cut off her hair, and disposed of her estates, but she sought to avoid notice in all that she did, and to conceal her good deeds and self-sacrifices. Nevertheless, she became known, and young maidens and women resorted to her for advice, and to study her example. She was reluctant to be forced thus into a position which she dreaded; nevertheless, unable to refuse the girls and young women that assistance they so much needed, she gave them much instruction, which has been preserved to us in the record we have of her life, and her words abound in practical common sense. "Listen to me," [Pg 69] she said to the maidens; "we all know how we can be saved, but we fail through our own carelessness. The first thing to be done, is to keep the commandment, 'Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and thy neighbour as thyself; for in this consists all perfection.' These are few words, but there is plenty of matter in them. Then beware of retrogression. The corn in the Gospel brought forth; some an hundred-fold, some sixty-fold, and some thirty-fold. Beware lest, beginning at sixty, we fall back to thirty. Let those who are virgins take care of their eyes, and their tongue, and their ears, and keep them in modesty, not looking about them boldly, nor talking flippantly, nor listening to certain things that may be said. Obedience is better than asceticism, for asceticism may puff up, but obedience brings one down. There is an asceticism which is of the devil. How are we to distinguish right asceticism from that which is wrong? By its moderation. Have you begun fasting? Don't make pretexts to wriggle out of it on the score of health, for the lady who does not fast is just as much subject to maladies as she who does."

Syncletica was born in Alexandria, to wealthy parents of Macedonian descent who had settled there. Being very beautiful and well-off, she attracted many marriage proposals, but she turned them all down because her youthful heart had found a love that was truer and deeper than any human connection; she dedicated her best love to God and wanted to belong to Him, and Him alone. After her parents passed away, she focused on caring for her blind sister, and together they served God through prayer and charity. To show her commitment to renouncing worldly life and to escape unwanted attention from fortune-seekers, she cut off her hair and sold her properties, but she tried to keep her actions unnoticed and her good deeds and sacrifices hidden. Nevertheless, she became well-known, and young women came to her for advice and to learn from her example. Though she was hesitant to be placed in a position she feared, she couldn't refuse the help the girls and young women needed, so she provided them with valuable guidance that has been recorded in her life story; her teachings are filled with practical wisdom. "Listen to me," [Pg 69] she said to the young women. "We all know how we can be saved, but we often fail because of our own negligence. The first thing to do is to follow the commandment, 'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and your neighbor as yourself; for this is the essence of all perfection.' These words are few, but they carry a lot of meaning. Then, be careful not to regress. The seed in the Gospel produced varying yields; some a hundred-fold, some sixty-fold, and some thirty-fold. Be cautious that we don’t start at sixty and end up at thirty. Those who are virgins should guard their eyes, tongue, and ears, keeping them modestly in check, avoiding bold looks, trivial talk, and certain things that may be said. Obedience is better than self-denial, as self-denial can lead to pride, while obedience humbles. There is a kind of self-denial that is of the devil. How do we distinguish true self-denial from false? By its moderation. Have you started fasting? Don’t make excuses to get out of it on health grounds, for a lady who doesn’t fast is just as prone to illness as one who does."

S. Syncletica died at the age of eighty, of cancer on the mouth, and consumption in the lungs, from which she suffered with great patience for three years. The cancer made horrible ravages in her face, and became so distressingly offensive, that to ward off infection from those who nursed her, she allowed it to be treated with the mixture which is used for embalming corpses.

S. Syncletica passed away at the age of eighty from mouth cancer and lung consumption, enduring both conditions with remarkable patience for three years. The cancer severely affected her face, becoming so unbearably foul that to prevent infections from her caregivers, she permitted it to be treated with the solution typically used for embalming bodies.

S. APOLLINARIS SYNCLETICA, V.

(beginning of 5th cent.)

(early 5th century)

[Commemorated in the Latin Martyrologies on this day, but by the Greeks on Jan. 4th. Her life, written by one who lived at the same time, is given by Metaphrastes. This life represents her as daughter of Anthemius, the Emperor. Metaphrastes concludes, but wrongly, that she was daughter of Anthemius, who was appointed Emperor of the West by Leo I. But it appears more probable that she was the daughter of Anthemius, consular prefect of the city, who acted as regent after the death of Arcadius, during the minority of Theodosius the younger. This Anthemius was grandfather of the Emperor Anthemius. It is quite possible that the regent may have received imperial honours. The narrative in one place, speaking of the expedition of Apollinaris to the Holy Land, says, "A few days after, when we had found companions, we went on to the Holy City. And when, at a certain place, we turned aside, on account of our burdens, and the slaves and serving maids who were with us, we rested awhile." This is the only allusion to himself made by the writer, and it is so casual, that it is difficult not to regard it as an evidence of the authenticity of the piece. The story is, however, so much like a romance, and is open to so many critical objections, that it is difficult to accept it exactly as it is.]

[Remembered in the Latin Martyrologies on this day, but by the Greeks on January 4th. Her life, written by someone who lived around the same time, is provided by Metaphrastes. This account describes her as the daughter of Anthemius, the Emperor. Metaphrastes incorrectly concludes that she was the daughter of Anthemius, who was appointed Emperor of the West by Leo I. However, it's more likely that she was the daughter of Anthemius, a consular prefect of the city, who acted as regent after the death of Arcadius during the minority of Theodosius the Younger. This Anthemius was the grandfather of Emperor Anthemius. It's quite possible that the regent received imperial honors. In one part of the narrative, discussing Apollinaris's journey to the Holy Land, it says, "A few days later, when we found companions, we continued on to the Holy City. And when, at a certain place, we stopped because of our burdens, and the slaves and maids who were with us, we took a break." This is the only reference to himself made by the writer, and it's so casual that it's hard not to see it as evidence of the piece's authenticity. However, the story reads like a romance and has so many critical issues that it's difficult to accept it at face value.]

Saint Apollinaris, called from her high rank Syncletica, was the daughter of Anthemius. She had a sister of a different spirit from herself. The parents of Apollinaris desired to unite her in marriage, at an early age, to some wealthy noble, but she manifested such a fixed resolution to remain single, that they yielded to her wish. In her heart she desired to retire completely from the world; having heard of the wondrous lives of the recluses in Egypt, she longed greatly to see and imitate them. Her parents having consented to her making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, she visited the holy places, and in Jerusalem she liberated all the slaves who had been sent to bear her company, and dismissed them with liberal gifts, retaining in her service only an eunuch and an old man to prepare her tent. In Jerusalem, she bribed an aged woman to procure for her, secretly, the habit of a recluse, and this she kept by her for a proper moment. [Pg 71] On her way back she visited the tomb of S. Meria, on the Egyptian coast; and after prayer retired to her sleeping tent, when she assumed the monastic habit, and cast aside her worldly dress, with all its ornaments. Then, in the night, when the two men were asleep without, she stole from her tent, and fled into the desert, and took refuge in a morass. Next morning the servants were filled with consternation, and sought her everywhere in vain. Then they appeared before the governor of the city Lemna (?) where they were; and he assisted in the search, but all was in vain; so the governor sent a letter to the parents of Apollinaris, with her clothes and baggage, narrating the circumstances. Anthemius and his wife wept when they heard of the loss of their daughter, but consoled themselves with the belief that she had entered some community of religious women.

Saint Apollinaris, known as Syncletica, came from a high-status family as the daughter of Anthemius. She had a sister who had a very different personality. Apollinaris's parents wanted to arrange a wealthy marriage for her at a young age, but she was so determined to stay single that they eventually accepted her choice. Deep down, she wanted to completely withdraw from society; inspired by the incredible lives of recluses in Egypt, she longed to see and emulate them. After her parents agreed to let her go on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, she visited the holy sites and freed all the slaves who had accompanied her, giving them generous gifts, and kept only an eunuch and an old man to help set up her tent. In Jerusalem, she secretly paid an elderly woman to obtain a recluse’s habit for her, which she kept for the right moment. [Pg 71] On her way back, she stopped at the tomb of St. Meria on the Egyptian coast. After praying, she returned to her sleeping tent, put on the monastic habit, and discarded her worldly clothes and all their embellishments. Later that night, while the two men outside were asleep, she quietly left her tent, fled into the desert, and took shelter in a marsh. The next morning, her attendants were frantic and searched everywhere for her, but to no avail. They then went to the governor of the city Lemna (?), who helped look for her, but nothing turned up. Ultimately, the governor sent a letter to Apollinaris's parents, along with her clothes and belongings, explaining what had happened. Anthemius and his wife wept at the news of their daughter's disappearance, but found some comfort in the thought that she had joined a community of religious women.

However, S. Apollinaris made her way into the desert of Scété, where lived S. Macarius of Alexandria, at the head of a large monastery of recluses in cells and caves. Apollinaris, having cut off her hair, and being much tanned by exposure to the sun, and wasted with hunger in the marsh, where she had lived on a few dates, passed as a man, and was supposed, from being beardless, to be an eunuch. She spent many years there under the name of Dorotheus. Now it fell out that her sister, being grievously tormented with a devil, Anthemius bethought himself on sending her to Macarius to be healed, for the fame of his miracles had spread far and wide. But when the young girl was brought to Macarius, the aged abbot, moved by some interior impulse, conducted her to Dorotheus, and bade him heal the possessed by prayer. Then S. Apollinaris earnestly, and with many tears, besought Macarius not to tempt her thus, for God had not given to her the gift of performing miracles. Nevertheless he persisted; then the possessed woman was shut into the cell of Dorotheus for several days, that he might, [Pg 72] by prayer and fasting, cast the demon forth. And when, after a while, the virgin seemed to be healed, she was restored to the attendants, who conducted her to her parents with great joy.

However, S. Apollinaris made her way into the desert of Scété, where S. Macarius of Alexandria lived, leading a large monastery of recluses in cells and caves. Apollinaris, having cut off her hair, tanned from sun exposure, and weakened from hunger in the marsh where she had survived on a few dates, passed as a man and was thought to be an eunuch because she was beardless. She spent many years there under the name Dorotheus. It happened that her sister was suffering horribly from a demon, and Anthemius thought about sending her to Macarius for healing, as the word of his miracles had spread widely. When the young girl was brought to Macarius, the elderly abbot, feeling a strong inner urge, took her to Dorotheus and asked him to heal the possessed girl through prayer. Then S. Apollinaris earnestly, with many tears, begged Macarius not to put her to the test like this, for God had not given her the gift of performing miracles. Nevertheless, he insisted; then the possessed woman was locked in Dorotheus's cell for several days so he could, through prayer and fasting, cast out the demon. After a while, when it seemed the virgin was healed, she was returned to her attendants, who joyfully took her back to her parents.

Some months after, the maiden suffered from an attack of dropsy, and the parents, in shame and grief, supposing her to be pregnant, questioned her closely thereabout. But she could not account for her size, and when they pressed her more vehemently, moved by the evil spirit, she declared that Dorotheus, the hermit, had seduced her. On hearing this, Anthemius sent to Scété, that Dorotheus should be brought before him. The holy congregation was filled with horror and dismay on hearing the charge, and they went with one accord and cried to God to put away from them so grievous a reproach. Then said Dorotheus, "Be of good courage, my brethren, the Lord will reveal my innocence." And when she was brought before Anthemius, she said, "I am your daughter, Apollinaris." Then they fell on her neck and wept, and she prayed to God, and kissed her sister, and the Lord heard her cry, and healed the damsel of her disease. And after having tarried with them a few days, she returned to the desert once more.

A few months later, the young woman developed an issue with swelling, and her parents, filled with shame and sorrow, suspected she might be pregnant and questioned her intensely about it. She couldn't explain her condition, and when they pressed her harder, influenced by some dark force, she claimed that Dorotheus, the hermit, had seduced her. Upon hearing this, Anthemius sent for Dorotheus to be brought from Scété. The holy community was filled with shock and distress at the accusation, and they all prayed together, asking God to remove such a terrible stain from them. Then Dorotheus said, "Stay strong, my brothers, the Lord will show my innocence." When she was brought before Anthemius, she said, "I am your daughter, Apollinaris." They embraced her in tears, and she prayed to God, kissed her sister, and the Lord heard her plea and healed her of her illness. After staying with them for a few days, she returned to the desert once again.

S. SIMEON STYLITES, H.

(a.d. 460.)

(A.D. 460.)

[Commemorated on this day in the Latin Martyrologies, but on Sept. 1st by the Greeks. There were three of this name; the second, who lived at a later date, is commemorated by the Greeks on May 24th; and the third, whom they designate Priest and Archimandrite, on July 26th. These two later Saints copied the great Simeon Stylites, of world-wide renown. The life of this famous hermit was written by a disciple of his, named Anthony, who was with him when he died; and also by Theodoret, who knew him well in life. Also, by Evagrius in his Ecclesiastical History.]

[Remembered today in the Latin Martyrologies, but on September 1st by the Greeks. There were three saints with this name; the second, who lived later, is celebrated by the Greeks on May 24th; and the third, known as Priest and Archimandrite, on July 26th. These two later Saints followed the example of the famous Simeon Stylites, known worldwide. The life of this famous hermit was documented by a disciple named Anthony, who was there when he died; and also by Theodoret, who was familiar with him during his life. Additionally, Evagrius wrote about him in his Ecclesiastical History.]

S. SIMEON STYLITES

"Simeon," says Theodoret, "was born in the village of Gesa, between Antioch and Cilicia, and as a boy kept his father's sheep. One day, forced by heavy snow to leave them in the fold, he went with his parents to the church, and there heard the Gospel read, which blesses those who mourn and weep; which calls those enviable who have a pure heart. And when he asked a bystander what he would gain who kept the Beatitudes, the man propounded to him the life of self-sacrifice. This," Theodoret adds, "he heard from the Saint's own tongue."

"Simeon," says Theodoret, "was born in the village of Gesa, located between Antioch and Cilicia, and as a boy, he took care of his father's sheep. One day, when heavy snow forced him to leave them in the fold, he went with his parents to church, where he heard the Gospel being read, which blesses those who mourn and weep and calls those with pure hearts enviable. When he asked someone nearby what he would gain by following the Beatitudes, the person explained to him the life of self-sacrifice. This," Theodoret adds, "he heard from the Saint's own mouth."

Forthwith, Simeon going out of the church, went to a neighbouring monastery, governed by one Timothy; and falling down before the gate, he lay five days, neither eating nor drinking. And on the fifth day, the abbot, coming out, asked him, "Whence art thou, my son? What parents hast thou, that thou art so afflicted? Or, what is thy name, lest perchance thou hast done wrong? or, perchance, thou art a slave, and fleest from thy master?" Then the lad answered with tears, "No, master! I long to be a servant of God, and to save my soul. Suffer me to enter the monastery, and send me not away."

Immediately, Simeon left the church and went to a nearby monastery run by a man named Timothy. He fell down in front of the gate and lay there for five days without eating or drinking. On the fifth day, the abbot came out and asked him, "Where are you from, my son? Who are your parents that you are suffering like this? What is your name? Have you done something wrong, or are you possibly a servant trying to escape from your master?" The young man responded tearfully, "No, sir! I want to be a servant of God and save my soul. Please let me enter the monastery and don’t send me away."

Then the abbot, taking him by the hand, introduced him into the house, saying to the brethren, "My sons, behold I deliver you this brother; teach him the rules." He was in the convent about four months, serving all without complaint, and in that time he learned the whole Psalter by heart. But the food which he took with his brethren, he gave away secretly to the poor, reserving for himself only food for one day in the seven. But one day, having gone to the well to draw water, he took the rope from the bucket and wound it round his body, from the loins to the neck, and wore it till his flesh was cut into by the rope. One day, some of the brethren found him giving his food to the poor; and when they returned, they complained to the abbot, saying, "We cannot abstain like him; he fasts from Lord's day [Pg 74] to Lord's day, and gives away his food." Then the abbot rebuked him, and Simeon answered not. And the abbot being angry, bade strip him, and found the rope round him, sunk into the flesh, and with great trouble it was uncoiled, and the skin came off with it; then the monks took care of him and healed him. When he was healed, he went out of the monastery and entered a deserted tank, where there was no water; no man knowing. After a few days, he was found, and the abbot descended into the tank. Then the blessed Simeon, seeing him, began to entreat, saying, "I beg you, servants of God, let me alone one hour, that I may render up my spirit; for yet a little while, and it will fail. But my soul is very weary, because I have angered the Lord."

Then the abbot, taking him by the hand, led him into the house and said to the brothers, "My sons, here’s a brother I’m handing over to you; teach him the rules." He stayed in the convent for about four months, serving everyone without complaints, and during that time, he memorized the entire Psalter. But the food he shared with his brothers, he secretly gave away to the poor, keeping only enough food for himself for one day each week. One day, when he went to the well to draw water, he took the rope from the bucket and wrapped it around his body from his waist to his neck, wearing it until it cut into his flesh. One day, some of the brothers found him giving his food to the poor; when they returned, they reported to the abbot, saying, "We can’t abstain like him; he fasts from Sunday to Sunday and gives away his food." The abbot scolded him, and Simeon did not respond. Angered, the abbot ordered him to be stripped and found the rope wrapped around him, sunk into his flesh. After much difficulty, it was uncoiled, taking the skin with it; then the monks took care of him and healed him. Once he was better, he left the monastery and entered an abandoned tank where there was no water, without anyone knowing. After a few days, he was found, and the abbot went down into the tank. Then the blessed Simeon, seeing him, began to plead, saying, "I ask you, servants of God, let me be alone for one hour so I can give up my spirit; for soon, it will fail. But my soul is very weary because I have angered the Lord."

But the abbot said to him, "Come, servant of God, that we may take thee to the monastery." But when he would not, they brought him by force, and he stayed in the community about one year. "After this," says Theodoret, "he came to the Telanassus, under the peak of the mountain, on which he lived till his death, and having found a little house, he remained in it shut up for three years. But, eager to advance in virtue, he tried to persuade Blasus, who was archpriest of the villages around, to leave nothing within by him, for forty days and nights, but to close up the door with clay. The priest warned him that to die by one's own act is no virtue, but is a great crime." "Put by me then, father," he said, "ten loaves, and a cruse of water, and if I find my body needs sustenance, I will partake of them." Then Blasus did so, and at the end of the days Blasus removed the clay, and going in, found the bread and water untouched, and Simeon lying, unable to speak or move. Getting a sponge, he moistened and opened his lips, and then gave him the Holy Eucharist; and strengthened by this immortal Food, he chewed, little by little, lettuces and succory, and [Pg 75] such like.

But the abbot said to him, "Come, servant of God, so we can take you to the monastery." When he refused, they forcibly brought him along, and he stayed in the community for about a year. "After this," says Theodoret, "he went to Telanassus, at the base of the mountain, where he lived until he died. He found a small house and stayed in it alone for three years. Eager to grow in virtue, he tried to convince Blasus, the archpriest of the surrounding villages, to leave him with nothing for forty days and nights, but to seal the door with clay. The priest warned him that dying by one's own hand is not a virtue but a serious crime." "Then, father," he replied, "give me ten loaves and a jug of water, and if I feel my body needs food, I'll eat them." So Blasus did just that, and after the days were over, he removed the clay. When he went inside, he found the bread and water untouched, and Simeon lying there, unable to speak or move. He got a sponge, moistened his lips, and then gave him the Holy Eucharist; and, strengthened by this immortal Food, he nibbled on some lettuces and endive, and such things. [Pg 75]

When he had passed three years in that little house, he took possession of the peak, which has since been so famous; and when he had commanded a wall to be made round him, and procured an iron chain, he fastened one end of it to a great stone, and the other to his right foot, so that he could not, if he wished, have left those bounds. But when Meletius, Bishop of Antioch, saw him, he told him that if he had the will to remain, the iron profited nothing. Then, having sent for a smith, he bade him strike off the chain.

When he had lived in that little house for three years, he took ownership of the peak, which has since become famous. He ordered a wall to be built around him and got an iron chain, fastening one end to a big stone and the other to his right foot, making it impossible for him to leave those confines even if he wanted to. However, when Meletius, the Bishop of Antioch, saw him, he told him that if he wanted to stay, the iron was pointless. So, he called for a blacksmith and instructed him to remove the chain.

The fame of the wondrous austerities of this man wrought upon the wild Arab tribes, and effected what no missionaries had been able, as yet, to perform. No doubt the fearful severities exercised by Simeon, on himself, are startling and even shocking. But the Spirit of God breathes where He wills, and thou canst not tell whence He cometh and whither He goeth. What but the divine Spirit could have caught that young boy's soul away from keeping sheep, and looking forward to the enjoyment of youth, and precipitated it into this course, so contrary to flesh and blood? Theodoret says, that as kings change the impression on their coins, sometimes stamping them with the image of lions, sometimes of stars, sometimes of angels, so the divine Monarch produces different marks of sanctity at different periods, and at each period He calls forth these virtues, or characters, He needs for a particular work. So was it now; on the wild sons of the desert, no missionaries had made an impression; their rough hearts had given no echo to the sound of the Gospel. Something of startling novelty was needed to catch their attention, and strike their imagination, and drag them violently to the cross. These wild men came from their deserts to see the weird, haggard man in his den. He fled from them as they crowded upon him, not into the wastes of [Pg 76] sand, but up a pillar; first up one six cubits, then one twelve cubits, and finally, one of thirty-six. The sons of Ishmael poured to the foot of the pillar, "like a river along the roads, and formed an ocean of men about it." "And," says Theodoret, "myriads of Ishmaelites, who had been enslaved in the darkness of impiety, were illuminated by that station on the column. For this most shining light, set as it were on a candlestick, sent forth all around its beams, like the sun, and one might see Iberi, Persians, and Armenians coming and receiving divine baptism. But the Ishmaelites (Arabs,) coming by tribes, 200 and 300 at a time, and sometimes even 1,000, denied with shouts the error of their ancestors; and breaking in pieces the images they had worshipped, and renouncing the orgies of Venus, they received the divine Sacraments, and accepted laws from that holy tongue. And this I have seen with my own eyes, and have heard them renouncing the impiety of their fathers, and assenting to Evangelic doctrine." Here was the result. Little did the boy know, as he lay before the monastery door five days without eating, to what God had called him; for what work he was predestined, when he coiled the rope about his body. The Spirit had breathed, and he had followed the impulse, and now he wrought what the tongue of a prophet could not have affected. And it was worth the pain of that rope torn from his bleeding body; it was recompense for those long fastings.

The fame of this man's incredible self-discipline attracted the fierce Arab tribes in a way that no missionaries had accomplished before. The harsh measures that Simeon imposed on himself are certainly shocking. But the Spirit of God moves wherever He chooses, and you can't predict where He comes from or where He goes. What else could have drawn that young boy away from herding sheep and looking forward to a carefree youth, pushing him into a path so contrary to human nature? Theodoret compares it to how kings change the designs on their coins, sometimes showcasing lions, stars, or angels. In the same way, the divine King marks different periods with various signs of holiness, calling forth the virtues needed for specific tasks at each time. That was the case here; no missionaries had made an impact on the wild sons of the desert; their hardened hearts did not respond to the sound of the Gospel. Something truly extraordinary was needed to grab their attention, ignite their imagination, and draw them to the cross. These wild men traveled from their desert homes to see the strange, gaunt figure living in his lair. He fled from them as they surrounded him, not into the barren sands, but up a pillar; first one six cubits high, then one twelve cubits high, and finally, one thirty-six cubits high. The sons of Ishmael surged to the base of the pillar, "like a river along the roads, forming an ocean of men around it." "And," says Theodoret, "countless Ishmaelites, once trapped in the darkness of disbelief, were enlightened by that position on the column. For this brilliant light, set like a lamp on a stand, radiated its beams all around like the sun, and one could see Iberians, Persians, and Armenians approaching to receive divine baptism. But the Ishmaelites (Arabs), arriving in groups of 200 to 300 at a time, and sometimes even 1,000, loudly rejected the mistakes of their ancestors; they smashed the idols they had worshipped and turned away from the festivals of Venus, receiving divine Sacraments and accepting laws from that holy speaker. I witnessed this myself; I heard them renouncing their fathers' disbelief and embracing the teachings of the Gospel." This was the outcome. Little did the boy know, as he lay at the monastery gate for five days without food, what God had called him to do; for what purpose he was chosen when he wrapped the rope around his body. The Spirit had moved, and he had followed that impulse, now achieving what even a prophet's words could not have accomplished. And it was worth the pain of that rope tearing through his bleeding body; it was a reward for those long fasts.

"Three winters, so my soul can grow closer to You, I lived up there on that mountain side; With my right leg chained to the rock, I lay Trapped in an open area surrounded by jagged stones; Sometimes wrapped in drifting mist, and twice Branded with Your thunder, and sometimes "Sipping on drinks and not eating."

It was worth all this, if souls could be added to the Lord, as [Pg 77] they were, by hundreds and thousands. God's ways are not as our ways. The God who needed these souls, called up the soul of Simeon to do the work, and Simeon obeyed, and traversed perhaps the most awful path man has yet trod.

It was all worth it if souls could be brought to the Lord, as [Pg 77] they were, by the hundreds and thousands. God's ways are not our ways. The God who needed these souls called upon the soul of Simeon to do the work, and Simeon obeyed, taking on perhaps the most terrible path anyone has ever walked.

It is not for us to condemn a mode of life which there is no need for men to follow now. It was needed then, and he is rightly numbered with the Saints, who submitted his will to that of God, to make of him an instrument for His purpose in the way that He saw best.

It’s not for us to judge a way of life that people don’t need to follow anymore. It was necessary back then, and he is rightly recognized as one of the Saints, who submitted his will to God's, allowing Him to use him as an instrument for His purpose in the way He deemed best.

"There came from Arabena a certain good man," says Theodoret, "who, when he had come to that mountain peak, 'Tell me,' he cried, 'by the very Truth, art thou a man, or of incorporeal nature?' But when all there were displeased with the question, the Saint bade them all be silent, and bade them set a ladder to the column, and bade the man come up; and first look at his hands, and then feel inside his cloak of skins, and see not only his feet, but also a severe ulcer in them. But when he saw that he was a man, and the size of that sore, and learnt from him how he took nourishment, he came down and told me all."

"There came a good man from Arabena," says Theodoret, "who, when he reached that mountain peak, shouted, 'Tell me, by the very Truth, are you a man or some kind of spirit?' But when everyone around was upset by the question, the Saint asked them to be quiet, told them to set up a ladder to the column, and asked the man to come up; and first to look at his hands, then to feel inside his cloak made of skins, and to see not just his feet, but also a severe ulcer on them. When he saw that he was a man and noticed the size of that sore, and learned from him how he got his nourishment, he came down and told me everything."

"On festivals, from the setting of the sun till its appearance again, he stood all night with his hands uplifted to heaven, neither soothed with sleep, nor conquered by fatigue. But in toils so great, and so great magnitude of deeds, and multitude of miracles, his self-esteem is as moderate as if he were in dignity the least of men. Besides his modesty, he is easy of access of speech, and gracious, and answers every man who speaks to him. And from the bounteous God he has received the gift of teaching, and he makes exhortations to the people twice every day. He may be seen also acting as a judge, giving just decisions. This, and the like, is done after the ninth hour. For all night, and through the day to the ninth hour, he prays perpetually. [Pg 78] After that he sets forth divine teaching to those who are present, and then, having heard each man's petition, having performed some cures, he settles disputes. About sunset, he begins the rest of his converse with God. But though he is employed in this way, he does not give up the care of the churches, sometimes fighting against the impiety of the Greeks, sometimes checking the audacity of the Jews, sometimes putting to flight the heretics, and sometimes sending messages to the emperor; sometimes stirring up rulers to zeal for God, and sometimes exhorting the pastors of the churches to bestow more care on their flocks."

"During festivals, from sunset until sunrise, he stands all night with his hands raised to heaven, neither comforted by sleep nor overwhelmed by exhaustion. Yet in such great efforts, with the impressive deeds and numerous miracles he performs, his self-esteem remains remarkably humble, as if he were the least important among men. Besides his modesty, he is approachable and gracious, responding to everyone who speaks to him. From the generous God, he has received the gift of teaching and delivers encouragement to the people twice a day. You can also see him acting as a judge, providing fair decisions. This occurs after the ninth hour. He prays continuously all night and throughout the day until the ninth hour. [Pg 78] After that, he shares divine teachings with those present, hears each person's requests, performs some healings, and resolves disputes. Around sunset, he begins his evening conversations with God. Despite being engaged in this way, he does not neglect the care of the churches, sometimes challenging the impiety of the Greeks, sometimes curbing the audacity of the Jews, sometimes driving away heretics, and sometimes communicating with the emperor; he sometimes encourages rulers to be zealous for God and sometimes urges the church leaders to take more care of their congregations."

To make trial of his humility, an order was sent him, in the name of the neighbouring bishops and abbots, to quit his pillar, and new manner of life. The Saint, ready to obey the summons, was about to step down; when the messenger, seeing his willingness to obey, said he was empowered to authorize him to follow his vocation.

To test his humility, an order was sent to him in the name of the nearby bishops and abbots, telling him to leave his pillar and his new way of life. The Saint, ready to follow the request, was about to step down when the messenger, seeing his willingness to obey, said he was authorized to let him continue in his vocation.

Once, his mother hearing of his fame, came to see him, but was not allowed to enter the enclosure around the pillar. But when Simeon heard his mother's voice, he said to her, "Bear up, my mother, a little while, and we shall see each other, if God will." But she began to weep and rebuke him, saying, "Son, why hast thou done this? In return for the body I bore thee, thou has filled me with grief. For the milk with which I nourished thee, thou hast given me tears. For the kiss with which I kissed thee, thou hast given me an aching heart." "She made us all weep," says Anthony, who writes this incident. Simeon, on his pillar, was also deeply agitated, and, covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly, and cried to her, "Lady mother, be still a little while, and we shall see each other in eternal rest." The poor mother, with harrowed heart, hung about the place for three days, crying to her son, and wrung with grief to see his terrible penance. Then Simeon, grieving for her, prayed to [Pg 79] God to give her rest, and at the end of those three days she fell asleep in Christ. Then the people took up her body and brought it where Simeon might see it. And he, weeping, said, "The Lord receive thee in joy, mother! because thou hast endured tribulation for me, and borne me, and nursed and nourished me with labour." Then he prayed, "Lord God of virtues, who sittest above the Cherubim, and searchest the foundations of the abyss, who knewest Adam before he was; who hast promised the riches of the kingdom of heaven to those who love Thee; who didst speak to Moses out of the burning bush; who blessedst Abraham our father; who bringest to Paradise the souls of the just, and sinkest the souls of the ungodly in perdition; who didst humble the lions before Daniel, and mitigate for the Three Children the strong fire of the Chaldees; who didst nourish Elijah by the ravens which brought him food, receive her soul in peace, and put her in the place of the holy Fathers, for Thine is the power, for ever and ever."

Once, his mother heard about his fame and came to see him, but she wasn't allowed to enter the area around the pillar. When Simeon heard his mother's voice, he said to her, "Hang in there, Mom, just a little while, and we'll see each other, if God wills." But she started to cry and scold him, saying, "Son, why have you done this? In return for the body I carried, you have filled me with sorrow. For the milk that nourished you, you have given me tears. For the kiss I gave you, you've given me a breaking heart." "She made us all weep," says Anthony, who writes about this incident. Simeon, up on his pillar, was also deeply shaken, and covering his face with his hands, he wept bitterly, crying out to her, "Dear mother, please be calm for just a little while, and we’ll see each other in eternal rest." The poor mother, heartbroken, lingered around for three days, calling out to her son, consumed with grief at the sight of his terrible penance. Then Simeon, feeling sorrow for her, prayed to God to give her peace, and by the end of those three days, she passed away in Christ. The people then took her body and brought it so Simeon could see her. He wept and said, "May the Lord receive you with joy, mother! because you have endured suffering for me, and carried me, and nursed me with toil." Then he prayed, "Lord God of power, who sits above the Cherubim and knows the depths of the abyss, who knew Adam before he existed; who has promised the riches of the kingdom of heaven to those who love You; who spoke to Moses out of the burning bush; who blessed Abraham our father; who brings the souls of the righteous to Paradise, and casts the souls of the wicked into destruction; who humbled the lions before Daniel, and eased the blazing fire for the Three Young Men; who fed Elijah with ravens that brought him food, receive her soul in peace, and place her among the holy Fathers, for Yours is the power, forever and ever."

A robber, Jonathan by name, fled to S. Simeon, and embraced the column, weeping bitterly, and confessing his sins, and saying that he desired to repent. Then the Saint cried, "Of such is the kingdom of heaven. But beware that thou fall not again." Then came the officials from Antioch, demanding the poor wretch, that he might be cast to wild beasts in the amphitheatre. But Simeon answered, "My sons, I brought him not hither, but One greater than I. I cannot give him up, for I fear Him who sent the man to me."

A robber named Jonathan ran to S. Simeon, hugged the column, cried bitterly, and confessed his sins, saying he wanted to repent. The Saint exclaimed, "People like this are the ones who belong to the kingdom of heaven. But be careful not to fall again." Then officials from Antioch arrived, demanding that the unfortunate man be thrown to the wild beasts in the amphitheater. But Simeon replied, "My sons, I didn’t bring him here; someone greater than I did. I can’t hand him over because I fear the One who sent him to me."

Then the sergeants, struck with fear, went away. And Jonathan lay for seven days embracing the column, and then asked leave to depart. The Saint asked him if he was going to return to sin. "No, my lord!" answered the robber; "but my time is fulfilled." And straightway he gave up the ghost; and when the sergeants came from Antioch, again insisting that he should be given up to suffer for his [Pg 80] crimes, Simeon replied, pointing to the body, "He who brought the poor sinner here, has come with His angels, and has pardoned this man Himself."

Then the sergeants, filled with fear, left. Jonathan lay for seven days holding onto the column, and then asked for permission to leave. The Saint asked him if he was going back to his old ways. "No, my lord!" the robber replied; "but my time has come." And immediately he passed away; when the sergeants arrived from Antioch, once again demanding that he be handed over to suffer for his [Pg 80] crimes, Simeon replied, pointing to the body, "The one who brought the poor sinner here has come with His angels and has forgiven this man Himself."

Anthony, his disciple, thus relates the death of the old hermit. "After a few years, it befell one day, that he bowed himself in prayer, and remained so three days, Friday, the Sabbath, and the Lord's day. Then I was terrified, and went up to him on the pillar, and stood before his face, and said, 'Master, arise! bless us, for the people have been waiting three days and nights for a blessing from thee.' But he answered me not, so I said to him again, 'Wherefore dost thou grieve me, my lord! I beseech thee, put out thy hand to me.' And seeing that he did not answer, I thought to tell no one; for I feared to touch him, and standing about half-an-hour, I bent down, and put my ear to listen; and there was no breathing. And so I understood that he rested in the Lord; and turning faint, I wept most bitterly; and bending down, I kissed his eyes; and I cried, 'Master, remember me in thy holy rest.' And lifting up his garments, I fell at his feet, and kissed them, and holding his hands, I laid them on my eyes, saying, 'Bless me, I beseech thee, my lord!'"

Anthony, his disciple, recounts the death of the old hermit. "After a few years, one day, he bowed in prayer and stayed like that for three days—Friday, the Sabbath, and the Lord's Day. I was terrified and went up to him on the pillar, standing before him, and said, 'Master, please get up! Bless us, because the people have been waiting three days and nights for your blessing.' But he didn't respond, so I said to him again, 'Why do you upset me, my lord? I beg you, reach out your hand to me.' When I saw that he still didn’t answer, I thought about not telling anyone because I was scared to touch him. After standing there for about half an hour, I bent down and put my ear to him; there was no breathing. Then I realized that he had rested in the Lord. Feeling dizzy, I cried bitterly, bent down, kissed his eyes, and exclaimed, 'Master, remember me in your holy rest.' Lifting up his garments, I fell at his feet and kissed them, holding his hands to my eyes, saying, 'Bless me, I beg you, my lord!'"

The body was taken to Antioch, and there buried with great pomp.

The body was brought to Antioch and buried with great ceremony.

S. EDWARD THE CONFESSOR, K.

[S. Edward is commemorated on this day in the Roman Martyrology, by order of Innocent IV. On this day, he is mentioned in the old English Martyrologies as well, but the festival of his Translation, Oct. 13th, is that which is chiefly observed in his honour, and to that day we shall refer our readers for his life.]

S. Edward is commemorated today in the Roman Martyrology, as mandated by Innocent IV. On this day, he is also mentioned in the old English Martyrologies, but the primary celebration of his Translation on October 13th is the one most recognized in his honor, and we direct our readers to that day for details about his life.

S. GERLACH, H.

(about 1170.)

((~ 1170.))

[Mentioned in the Cologne, German, and Gallo-Belgic Martyrologies. Two lives of this Saint exist, one written during the life of those who remembered him, and were able to describe his personal appearance; the other written by Wilhelm Cripius, son of the Chancellor of Gueldres, by command of the bishop, Henry Cuyck, of Rœrmund.]

[Mentioned in the Cologne, German, and Gallo-Belgic Martyrologies. There are two accounts of this Saint, one written while people who remembered him were still alive and could describe his appearance; the other was written by Wilhelm Cripius, son of the Chancellor of Gueldres, at the request of Bishop Henry Cuyck of Rœrmund.]

Saint Gerlach sprang from a noble family, in the neighbourhood of Maestricht. He was a knight, and lived a somewhat disorderly life; but one day, as he was about to engage in a tournament, the news reached him of the sudden death of his wife, whom he loved passionately. Casting aside lance and shield, he hastened to his castle, and in grief over her loss, formed the resolution of renouncing the world. He visited Rome, and confessed the sins of his life to Pope Eugenius III., who bade him, as a penance, go to Jerusalem, and for seven years nurse the sick in its hospitals. He obeyed, and on his return to Rome, at the expiration of seven years, found Adrian IV. on the throne. Adrian bade him live a retired life. Accordingly, Gerlach returned to his estates, and distributed all his possessions among the poor, reserving for himself only sufficient for his support. He then took up his abode in a hollow oak; but some envious persons having complained to the Bishop of Liege that he offered idolatrous worship to the tree, the bishop ordered it to be cut down; but afterwards, recognizing the virtue of the penitent knight, he became his protector. He wore sack-cloth next his skin, and over that a battered suit of mail. He spent his nights in prayer, in the church of S. Servais, Maestricht.

Saint Gerlach came from a noble family near Maastricht. He was a knight and led a rather chaotic life; but one day, just as he was about to participate in a tournament, he learned of the sudden death of his beloved wife. Putting aside his lance and shield, he rushed to his castle, and in his sorrow, decided to renounce the world. He traveled to Rome and confessed his sins to Pope Eugenius III., who instructed him, as a penance, to go to Jerusalem and care for the sick in its hospitals for seven years. He complied, and upon returning to Rome after those seven years, he found Adrian IV. on the throne. Adrian advised him to live a quiet life. So, Gerlach went back to his estates and shared all his belongings with the poor, keeping only what he needed to survive. He then set up his home in a hollow oak; however, some jealous individuals complained to the Bishop of Liège that he was worshiping the tree idolatrously, prompting the bishop to order its destruction. Eventually, recognizing the virtue of the penitent knight, the bishop became his supporter. He wore sackcloth next to his skin, topped with a tattered suit of armor. He spent his nights praying in the church of St. Servais in Maastricht.

FOOTNOTES:

[30] Hist., lib. iv. c. 10.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ History, book iv, chapter 10.


January 6.

The Epiphany.

The Revelation.

S. Melchior, one of the Magi.
S. Macra, V. M., near Rheims, circ. a.d. 303.
S. Melanius, B. of Rennes, a.d. 580.
S. Peter, Ab. of Canterbury, a.d. 608.
S. Erminold, Ab. of Prufening, and M., a.d. 1121.
The Ven. Gertrude Van Oosten, V., at Delft, a.d. 1358.
S. John Ribeira, Patr. of Antioch, and Abp. of Valencia, in Spain, a.d. 1611.

S. Melchior, one of the Magi.
S. Macra, Virgin Martyr, near Rheims, around A.D. 303.
S. Melanius, Bishop of Rennes, A.D. 580.
S. Peter, Abbot of Canterbury, A.D. 608.
S. Erminold, Abbot of Prufening, and Martyr, A.D. 1121.
The Ven. Gertrude Van Oosten, Virgin, at Delft, A.D. 1358.
S. John Ribeira, Patriarch of Antioch, and Archbishop of Valencia, in Spain, A.D. 1611.

THE EPIPHANY.

T.

he principal design of the Church in celebrating this feast is, that her members may show gratitude to God for manifesting the Gospel to the Gentile world, and vouchsafing to it the same privileges as to the Jews, who had hitherto been His chosen and peculiar people; the first instance of this divine favour was the Manifestation of Christ to the Wise Men of the East. But, in all, there are three great manifestations of our Saviour commemorated on this day; all of which, S. Chrysostom says, happened on the same day, though not in the same year. The first of these was His manifestation by a star, which conducted the Magi to come and worship Him. The second Manifestation was that of the Blessed Trinity, at His Baptism. The third was the Manifestation of the Divinity of Christ, at Cana, by miraculously changing water into wine.

The main purpose of the Church celebrating this feast is for its members to express gratitude to God for revealing the Gospel to the Gentile world and granting it the same privileges as the Jews, who had previously been His chosen people. The first example of this divine favor was when Christ appeared to the Wise Men from the East. However, there are three significant manifestations of our Savior remembered on this day; as St. Chrysostom notes, all of these occurred on the same day, though not in the same year. The first manifestation was marked by a star that led the Magi to come and worship Him. The second was the revelation of the Blessed Trinity at His Baptism. The third was the manifestation of Christ's divinity at Cana when He turned water into wine miraculously.

THE EPIPHANY.

But the principal event which is this day celebrated, is the Manifestation of our Lord to the Wise Men of the East. These, who are called Magi in Greek, were doubtless men of high rank. Tradition holds them to have been princes or kings; and they are given the names of Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. They are said to have been baptized by the Apostle Thomas, and to have preached the Gospel in Persia. Their bodies were brought by the first Christian emperors from the East to Constantinople, whence they were conveyed to Milan. But the Emperor Frederick I. carried them off to Cologne, in 1162, where they still remain.

But the main event being celebrated today is the appearance of our Lord to the Wise Men from the East. These men, known as Magi in Greek, were definitely of high status. Tradition suggests they were princes or kings, and they are referred to as Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. It’s said that the Apostle Thomas baptized them, and they preached the Gospel in Persia. Their remains were brought by the first Christian emperors from the East to Constantinople, and then moved to Milan. However, Emperor Frederick I took them to Cologne in 1162, where they still are today.

Many very curious traditions, of no authority, have attached to these three holy men. They were said to have been Shem, Ham, and Japhet, who had fallen asleep in a cave, and to have woke only at the Nativity of Christ, when they came to adore Him; and then to have returned to their cave and died. A much more trustworthy tradition is to the effect that each wise man belonged to a different stock; that one was of the seed of Shem, another of the family of Japhet, and that the third, represented in art as black, belonged to the descendants of Ham. The three names Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, are not found in any writers earlier than the twelfth century. Before Pope S. Leo the Great spoke of them as three, the number was sometimes supposed to have been as many as twelve. Barhebræus says, "Magi came from the East. Some affirm that three princes came with a thousand men; but James, the bishop (of Edessa,) said that there were twelve princes, who, having left seven thousand soldiers at the Euphrates, came on with a thousand men to Jerusalem."

Many intriguing traditions, lacking authority, have been linked to these three holy men. They were said to be Shem, Ham, and Japhet, who fell asleep in a cave and only woke up at the Nativity of Christ to worship Him, then returned to their cave and died. A more reliable tradition suggests that each wise man was from a different lineage; one was of Shem's descendants, another from Japhet's family, and the third, often depicted in art as black, was from Ham's descendants. The names Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar do not appear in any writings before the twelfth century. Before Pope S. Leo the Great referred to them as three, the number was sometimes thought to be as high as twelve. Barhebræus notes, "Magi came from the East. Some claim that three princes arrived with a thousand men; however, James, the bishop of Edessa, said that there were twelve princes who left seven thousand soldiers at the Euphrates and came with a thousand men to Jerusalem."

Some authors have suggested that the seeming star, which appeared to the Magi in the East, might be that glorious Light which shone upon the shepherds of Bethlehem, when the angel came to impart to them the tidings of our Saviour's birth, which, at a distance, might appear like a star. According to an ancient commentary on S. Matthew, this star, on its first appearance to the wise men, had the form of a radiant child, bearing a sceptre or cross; and in some early [Pg 84] Italian frescoes it is thus depicted:—

Some authors have suggested that the bright star that appeared to the Magi in the East might be the same glorious Light that shone upon the shepherds of Bethlehem when the angel came to share the news of our Savior's birth, which might have looked like a star from a distance. According to an ancient commentary on St. Matthew, this star, when it first appeared to the wise men, took the shape of a radiant child holding a scepter or cross; and in some early [Pg 84] Italian frescoes, it is depicted this way:—

"In an instant, a star appeared." Oh! so brightly shining! Closer, closer yet it came, Still leaning towards Earth; And it was shaped—O! amazing sight! Like a child with a bright face, Holding a sign of kindness, With a cross combining.

It is to be expected that the Epiphany, containing in itself, as has been observed, three distinct festivals, would be known by a variety of distinct names. In the Mozarabic ritual it is called the "Apparition of the Lord;" in Germany it is the "Three-Kings' Day."

It’s expected that the Epiphany, which includes three different festivals, would have a variety of names. In the Mozarabic ritual, it’s referred to as the "Apparition of the Lord," while in Germany, it’s known as "Three-Kings' Day."

The Greeks keep the Nativity and the Manifestation to the Wise Men on the same day, the 25th December, and keep the 6th January as the festival of the Baptism of our Lord.

The Greeks celebrate the Nativity and the arrival of the Wise Men on the same day, December 25th, and observe January 6th as the festival of the Baptism of our Lord.

The first historical notice of the Epiphany is found in S. Clement of Alexandria, a.d. 200; in the time of S. Chrysostom, a.d. 400, it is mentioned as an ancient and principal festival of the Asiatic Church. The earliest distinct trace of it in the West is found in Gaul, in the middle of the fourth century. Ammianus Marcellinus (xxi. 2), relates of Julian the Apostate, that in a.d. 361, he celebrated in the Christian Church at Paris, the feast of the Epiphany in January, shortly before he publicly renounced the Christian religion. The title of Day of Lights was given to this festival as commemorating the earthly manifestation of the Light of the World, and also because it was the supposed day of the Baptism of our Lord, to which rite the term "illumination" was especially given. Hence it became, and in the Greek Church it is still, one of the three solemn times of baptism.

The first historical mention of the Epiphany is found in S. Clement of Alexandria, A.D. 200; by the time of S. Chrysostom, A.D. 400, it was recognized as an ancient and major festival of the Asiatic Church. The earliest clear evidence of it in the West appears in Gaul in the middle of the fourth century. Ammianus Marcellinus (xxi. 2) recounts that Julian the Apostate, in A.D. 361, celebrated the feast of the Epiphany in January at the Christian Church in Paris, shortly before he publicly renounced Christianity. The title Day of Lights was given to this festival to commemorate the earthly manifestation of the Light of the World, and also because it was believed to be the day of our Lord's Baptism, to which the term "illumination" was specifically applied. Consequently, it became, and still is in the Greek Church, one of the three significant times for baptism.

Greek Hymn.—O Christ, the True Light, which lighteth [Pg 85] every man that cometh into the world, let the Light of Thy Countenance shine upon us, that thereby we may behold the unapproachable Light, and guide Thou our steps to fulfil Thy Commandments.

Greek Hymn.—O Christ, the True Light, which lights up [Pg 85] every person who comes into the world, let the Light of Your Face shine on us, so that we may see the inaccessible Light, and guide our steps to follow Your Commands.

S. MACRA, V. M.

(about 303.)

((~ 303.))

[Mentioned in the Roman and German Martyrologies. The account of her martyrdom is from the Martyrologies, and from her Acts, published by the Bollandists.]

[Mentioned in the Roman and German Martyrologies. The details of her martyrdom come from the Martyrologies and from her Acts, published by the Bollandists.]

During the savage persecutions of Diocletian and Maximian, emperors, one Rictiovarus was governor at Soissons, in Gaul, who laboured to put down Christianity. The virgin Macra was treated by him with inhuman barbarity; she was exposed to fire, her breasts were cut off, and she was rolled on potsherds and coals; then, spreading out her hands, she prayed, "O Lord Jesu Christ, who madest me triumph over the chains in my dungeon, and madest the fire to which I was exposed as sweet as dew, I pray Thee, receive my soul, for now is the time come for Thee to set my spirit free!" So saying, she entered into her rest.

During the brutal persecutions led by the emperors Diocletian and Maximian, a governor named Rictiovarus was in charge of Soissons in Gaul, and he worked hard to suppress Christianity. The virgin Macra was subjected to extreme cruelty by him; she was put to the fire, her breasts were mutilated, and she was rolled across broken pottery and hot coals. Then, with her hands outstretched, she prayed, "O Lord Jesus Christ, who helped me overcome the chains in my prison and made the fire I faced feel as pleasant as dew, I ask you to receive my soul, for my time has come for you to free my spirit!" With those words, she found peace.

She is regarded as the patroness of Fimes, near Rheims.

She is seen as the protector of Fimes, near Rheims.

In art, she is represented with her breasts on a book which she carries.

In art, she is depicted with her breasts resting on a book that she carries.

S. MELANIUS, B. OF RENNES.

(a.d. 580.)

(A.D. 580.)

[Commemorated in the Roman Martyrology on this day. His life was written by a contemporary, according to Ducange.]

[Remembered in the Roman Martyrology today. A contemporary wrote about his life, according to Ducange.]

S. Melanius was born at Plas, in the neighbourhood of Vannes, in Brittany, and became a monk when grown to [Pg 86] man's estate. Upon the death of S. Amandus, Bishop of Rennes, he was compelled by the clergy and people to fill that see. He accepted the election of himself with great reluctance. He is related to have performed many miracles, and to have extirpated the last remnants of heathenism in his diocese. He died on a journey through his diocese, at La Vilaine. His body was placed in a boat, which, says the legend, returned to Rennes against the stream, without oars or sail.

S. Melanius was born in Plas, near Vannes, in Brittany, and became a monk as an adult. After the death of S. Amandus, the Bishop of Rennes, he was pressured by the clergy and community to take over that position. He accepted this call with great hesitation. It's said that he performed many miracles and eradicated the last traces of paganism in his diocese. He died while traveling through his diocese at La Vilaine. According to legend, his body was placed in a boat that returned to Rennes upstream, without any oars or sails.

S. PETER, AB. OF CANTERBURY.

(a.d. 608.)

(AD 608.)

[Named in the English Martyrologies. Authority for his life, Bede. Hist. Eccl., i. 33.]

[Included in the English Martyrologies. The source for his life is Bede. Hist. Eccl., i. 33.]

Bede says of this Saint, that he was a disciple of S. Gregory the Great, and first abbot of the monastery of S. Peter, at Canterbury, which was in later years called S. Augustine's monastery. Going to France in 608, he was drowned near the harbour of Ambleteuse, near Boulogne. The peasants of the place buried the body without much regard, not knowing at first whose it was, but by night a light appeared above it; and, perceiving that the drowned man was a Saint, his body was exhumed, and conveyed to Boulogne.

Bede mentions that this Saint was a disciple of St. Gregory the Great and the first abbot of St. Peter's monastery in Canterbury, which later became known as St. Augustine's monastery. In 608, he went to France and drowned near the port of Ambleteuse, close to Boulogne. The local peasants buried the body without much care, initially unaware of its identity, but at night, a light appeared above it. Realizing that the drowned man was a Saint, they exhumed his body and took it to Boulogne.

S. ERMINOLD, AB. OF PRUFENING, AND M.

(a.d. 1121.)

(A.D. 1121.)

[Mentioned in the German Martyrologies. His life was written by a monk of Prufening, about the year 1290.]

[Mentioned in the German Martyrologies. A monk from Prufening wrote his biography around the year 1290.]

S. Erminold sprang from one of the first families in [Pg 87] Swabia, and was given in early life to William, abbot of Hirschau, to be educated. A better tutor could not have been found for him, for William was one of the most learned and pious men of the age. The youthful Erminold made rapid progress in his studies, and he grew up in favour with God and man. When his pupilage was ended, he took the vows of monastic life upon him. In 1110, he was appointed by the Emperor Henry V., to the abbey of Lorch, on the Rhine; but hearing that this had been given him at the request of his brother, as a return for something his brother had done for the Emperor, Erminold threw up the office, so as not to incur the least suspicion of simony, and returned to Hirschau. But the Bishop of Bamberg, having founded an abbey at Prufening, near Ratisbon, he was invited to colonize it, and be its first father. He accordingly betook himself thither, with a few brethren. Having incurred the hostility of some of his monks, by insisting on strict discipline, one, named Aaron, struck him with a knife and mortally wounded him. He died, forgiving his murderer.

S. Erminold came from one of the prominent families in [Pg 87] Swabia and was given to William, the abbot of Hirschau, for his education at a young age. A better mentor could not have been chosen, as William was one of the most knowledgeable and devout men of his time. The young Erminold quickly excelled in his studies and gained favor with both God and people. When he completed his education, he took monastic vows. In 1110, he was appointed by Emperor Henry V to the abbey of Lorch on the Rhine; however, upon learning that this position was granted at the request of his brother in return for something his brother had done for the Emperor, Erminold declined the role to avoid any suspicion of simony and returned to Hirschau. Later, the Bishop of Bamberg invited him to help establish a new abbey at Prufening, near Ratisbon, where he became the first abbot. He went there with a few fellow monks, but when he insisted on strict discipline, he faced hostility from some of them. One monk named Aaron attacked him with a knife, fatally wounding him. He died forgiving his attacker.

Worshippers at the Shrine of a Saint Devotees at the Saint's Shrine.


January 7.

S. Lucian, P. M., at Antioch, circ. a.d. 312.
S. Nicetas, B. C., circ. a.d. 402.
S. Valentine, B. of Passau, circ. a.d. 440.
S. Cedd, B. of London, a.d. 664.
S. Tyllo, Monk in Gaul, circ. 700.
B. Wittekind, Duke of Westphalia, a.d. 800.
S. Rainold, Monk and M., of Dortmund, in Westphalia.
S. Aldric, B. of Le Mans, in France, circ. a.d. 855.
S. Canute, Duke of Schleswig, a.d. 1133.

St. Lucian, P. M., at Antioch, around A.D. 312.
St. Nicetas, B. C., around A.D. 402.
St. Valentine, B. of Passau, around A.D. 440.
St. Cedd, B. of London, A.D. 664.
St. Tyllo, Monk in Gaul, around 700.
B. Wittekind, Duke of Westphalia, A.D. 800.
St. Rainold, Monk and M., of Dortmund, in Westphalia.
St. Aldric, B. of Le Mans, in France, around A.D. 855.
St. Canute, Duke of Schleswig, A.D. 1133.

S. LUCIAN, P. M., OF ANTIOCH.

(about 312.)

(about 312.)

[Commemorated on this day by the Latins, on the 15th October by the Greeks. This S. Lucian is not to be confused with S. Lucian of Beauvais, commemorated on Jan. 8th. He is spoken of by S. Jerome and Theodoret. S. Chrysostom has a homily on S. Lucian. Information concerning him is also obtained from the Greek Menæa, and from the Acts of his martyrdom in Metaphrastes.]

[Today, we honor St. Lucian, recognized by the Latins, and on October 15th by the Greeks. This St. Lucian is not to be confused with St. Lucian of Beauvais, celebrated on January 8th. He is referenced by St. Jerome and Theodoret. St. Chrysostom wrote a homily about St. Lucian. More information about him can be found in the Greek Menæa and in the Acts of his martyrdom in Metaphrastes.]

S.

aint Lucian was born at Samosata, in Syria; his parents were Christians, and sought above all things to educate their son in the fear of God. Both died and left him an orphan at the age of twelve, and the boy, in his desolation, distributed his goods to the poor, and took refuge with Macarius at Edessa, who taught out of Holy Scripture the things concerning eternal life. Arrived at man's estate, he was ordained priest, and opened a school at Antioch, and diligently laboured at procuring a correct version of the Holy Scriptures, by comparing together the different Hebrew copies. His version of the sacred writings was used by S. Jerome, and proved of much assistance to him in his work of writing the Vulgate.

Saint Lucian was born in Samosata, Syria; his parents were Christians who wanted nothing more than to raise their son in the fear of God. Both of them passed away, leaving him an orphan at the age of twelve. In his sorrow, the boy gave his possessions to the poor and sought refuge with Macarius in Edessa, who taught him about eternal life from the Holy Scriptures. When he reached adulthood, he was ordained as a priest and established a school in Antioch, working hard to create an accurate version of the Holy Scriptures by comparing various Hebrew texts. His translations of the sacred writings were used by St. Jerome and greatly aided him in his work on the Vulgate.

When Maximian persecuted the Church, S. Lucian concealed [Pg 89] himself, but was betrayed by a Sabellian priest into the hands of the persecutors; he was taken to Nicomedia, and brought before Maximian. On his way he was the means of recovering forty Christian soldiers, who had lapsed. In Nicomedia he was subjected to torture. His feet were placed in the stocks, which were distended, so as to dislocate his legs. His hands were fastened to a beam, which was above his head, and he was laid on sharp potsherds, so that his back was lacerated and pierced. After this, he was allowed to lie on his cell floor, unable to rise, on account of his legs being out of joint, and was starved to death. He lingered fourteen days. And when the feast of the Manifestation drew nigh, he desired greatly to receive the Holy Eucharist. "When the fatal day had arrived, which was looked forward to, some of the disciples desired to receive from their master his last celebration of the divine mystery. But it seemed doubtful how they might bring a table into the prison, and how they might conceal it from the eyes of the impious. But when many of the disciples were assembled, and others were arriving, he said: 'This breast of mine shall be the table, and I reckon it will not be less esteemed of God than one of inanimate material; and ye shall be a holy temple, standing round about me.' And thus it was accomplished, for because the saintly man was at the end of his life, the guards were negligent, and so God, as I think, to honour his martyr, removed all impediments to that being done which was proposed. For when all stood in close ring round the martyr, so that one standing by the other shut him completely from view, he ordered the symbols of the divine Sacrifice to be placed on his breast. After that he raised his eyes to heaven, and uttered the accustomed prayers. Then, when he had uttered many sacred prayers, and had done all the requisite acts in the sacred rite, he and the rest communicated, and he sent to those who were [Pg 90] absent, as he himself shows in his last Epistle to them. Next day some officers came from the Emperor to see if he were still alive. And as he saw them standing about him, he said thrice, 'I am a Christian,' and so saying, he died."

When Maximian persecuted the Church, St. Lucian hid himself, but a Sabellian priest betrayed him to the authorities. He was taken to Nicomedia and brought before Maximian. On the way, he helped recover forty Christian soldiers who had fallen away. In Nicomedia, he was tortured. His feet were put in the stocks, which were so stretched that they dislocated his legs. His hands were tied to a beam above his head, and he was laid on sharp shards of pottery, which lacerated and pierced his back. After this, he was left on the floor of his cell, unable to rise due to his dislocated legs, and he starved to death, lingering for fourteen days. As the feast of the Manifestation approached, he greatly wished to receive the Holy Eucharist. "When the fateful day arrived, which everyone anticipated, some of the disciples wanted to receive one last celebration of the divine mystery from their master. But they were uncertain how to bring a table into the prison and conceal it from those who were hostile. However, as many disciples gathered, with others still arriving, he said: ‘My chest will serve as the table, and I believe it will be regarded by God as highly as a physical table; and you all shall form a holy temple around me.’ And so it happened, because the saintly man was near the end of his life, the guards were careless, and God— I believe— removed all obstacles to allow this to happen. When everyone stood closely around the martyr, completely hiding him from view, he instructed that the symbols of the divine Sacrifice be placed on his chest. After that, he raised his eyes to heaven and uttered the customary prayers. Once he had recited many sacred prayers and performed all the necessary actions of the sacred rite, he and the others received Communion, and he sent a message to those who were absent, as he himself indicates in his last Epistle to them. The next day, some officials came from the Emperor to check if he was still alive. As he saw them standing around him, he said three times, ‘I am a Christian,’ and with that, he died."

The body was then thrown into the sea, to the great grief of his disciples, who desired to bury it. But fifteen days after it was recovered. A legend says that a dolphin brought it ashore; be that as it may, it was found and was buried.

The body was then thrown into the sea, causing great sorrow among his disciples, who wanted to give it a proper burial. However, fifteen days later, it was recovered. According to a legend, a dolphin brought it to shore; whatever the truth is, it was found and buried.

In art, S. Lucian is sometimes represented with a chalice and Host, in allusion to his offering the holy Sacrifice in prison; sometimes with a dolphin at his side.

In art, S. Lucian is sometimes shown with a chalice and Host, referring to his offering of the holy Sacrifice in prison; other times he's depicted with a dolphin next to him.

S. VALENTINE, B. OF PASSAU.

(about 440.)

(about 440.)

[Some German Martyrologies, and the Roman, commemorate S. Maximilian, M., and S. Valentine, B.C., on Oct. 29. But S. Valentine is commemorated alone on this day at Passau.]

Some German martyrologies, along with the Roman one, commemorate St. Maximilian, Martyr, and St. Valentine, Bishop and Confessor, on October 29. However, in Passau, St. Valentine is celebrated alone on this day.

Valentine was sent by the Pope to preach the Gospel in the Passau. He found that his work was without fruit, and returned to Rome to implore the Holy Father to send him elsewhere. But the Pope consecrated him bishop, and sent him back to Passau, to preach in season and out of season, whether it produced fruit or not. The Bishop renewed his efforts, but the Pagans and Arians combined to drive him out of the city. Thereupon he went among the Rhætian Alps, and his teaching produced abundant fruit among the mountaineers. At length he resolved to serve God, and purify his own soul, in a life of retirement. He therefore built a little chapel and monastery at Mais, in Tyrol, and there he died.

Valentine was sent by the Pope to share the Gospel in Passau. He found that his efforts were fruitless and went back to Rome to ask the Holy Father to send him somewhere else. However, the Pope appointed him as bishop and sent him back to Passau, telling him to preach at all times, regardless of whether it bore fruit. The Bishop continued his work, but the Pagans and Arians banded together to drive him out of the city. He then went to the Rhætian Alps, where his teachings were very successful among the mountain people. Eventually, he decided to dedicate himself to God and focus on his own spiritual growth by living a life of solitude. He built a small chapel and monastery at Mais in Tyrol, where he died.

Relics, at Passau.

Relics in Passau.

S. CEDD, B. OF LONDON.

(a.d. 664.)

(A.D. 664.)

[English Martyrologies. His life is given by Bede, in his Ecclesiastical History, lib. 3, caps. 21, 22, 23.]

[English Martyrologies. Bede describes his life in his Ecclesiastical History, book 3, chapters 21, 22, 23.]

Peada, son of Penda, King of Mercia, being appointed by his father King of the Midland English, by which name Bede distinguished the inhabitants of Leicestershire, and part of Lincolnshire and Derbyshire, from the rest of the Mercians; the young king visited Oswy, King of Northumbria, at Atwell, or Walton, was baptized along with several of his nobles, by Bishop Finan, and was provided by Oswy with two priests to instruct his people in Christianity. One of these was S. Cedd, who had been trained in the monastery of Lindisfarne. "When these two," says Bede, "travelling to all parts of that country, had gathered a numerous church to the Lord, it happened that Cedd returned home, and came to the church of Lindisfarne to confer with Bishop Finan; who, finding how successful he had been in the work of the Gospel, made him Bishop of the Church of the East Saxons, calling to him two other bishops, to assist at the ordination. Cedd, having received the episcopal dignity, returned to his province, and pursuing the work he had begun, with more ample authority, built churches in several places, ordaining priests and deacons to assist him in the work of faith, and the ministry of baptizing, especially in the city which, in the language of the Saxons, is called Ithancester,[31] as also in that named Tilabury (Tilbury); the first of which places is on the bank of the Pante, the other on the bank of the Thames; where, gathering a flock of servants of Christ, he taught them to observe the discipline of regular life, as far as those rude people were then capable.

Peada, son of Penda, King of Mercia, was appointed by his father as the King of the Midland English, a term Bede used to describe the people of Leicestershire, parts of Lincolnshire, and Derbyshire, distinguishing them from the other Mercians. The young king visited Oswy, King of Northumbria, at Atwell or Walton, where he was baptized along with several of his nobles by Bishop Finan. Oswy then provided him with two priests to teach his people about Christianity. One of these was St. Cedd, who had been trained at the monastery of Lindisfarne. “When these two,” Bede says, “traveled throughout that region and gathered a large congregation for the Lord, Cedd eventually returned home to the church of Lindisfarne to meet with Bishop Finan. Seeing how successful Cedd had been in spreading the Gospel, Finan made him Bishop of the Church of the East Saxons, calling two other bishops to help with the ordination. After receiving his episcopal authority, Cedd returned to his area and continued the work he had started, now with greater power. He built churches in several locations, ordaining priests and deacons to assist him in growing the faith and baptizing people, especially in the city called Ithancester,[31] as well as in another called Tilabury (Tilbury). Ithancester is located on the banks of the Pante River, while Tilabury is by the Thames; there, he gathered a community of Christ’s followers, teaching them to live with some discipline, to the best of their understanding at that time.

"Whilst the doctrine of everlasting life was thus, for a considerable time, making progress, to the joy of the King and of all the people, it happened that the King, at the instigation of the enemy of all good men, was murdered by his own kindred. The same man of God, whilst he was bishop among the East Saxons, was wont also to visit, at intervals, his own country, Northumberland, to make exhortations. Ethelwald, the son of King Oswald, who reigned over the Deiri, finding him a holy, wise, and good man, desired him to accept some land to build a monastery, to which the King himself might frequently resort, to offer his prayers and hear the word, and be buried in it when he died; for he believed that he should receive much benefit by the prayers of those who were to serve God in that place. The King had before with him a brother of the same bishop, called Celin, a man no less devoted to God; who, being a priest, was wont to administer to him the word and the Sacraments, by whose means he chiefly came to know and love the bishop.

"While the belief in eternal life was spreading over time, bringing joy to the King and all the people, the King, pushed by the enemy of all good men, was murdered by his own family. The same man of God, while serving as bishop among the East Saxons, often visited his home country, Northumberland, to give encouragement. Ethelwald, the son of King Oswald, who ruled over the Deiri, recognized him as a holy, wise, and good man, and wanted him to accept some land to build a monastery where the King could often come to pray, hear the word, and be buried when he died; for he believed he would gain much from the prayers of those who would serve God there. The King had previously been accompanied by a brother of the bishop, named Celin, who was equally devoted to God and, as a priest, would administer the word and the sacraments, through whom the King primarily came to know and love the bishop."

"That prelate, therefore, complying with the King's desires, chose himself a place to build a monastery among craggy and distant mountains, which looked more like lurking places for robbers, and retreats for wild beasts, than habitations for men. The man of God, desiring first to cleanse the place for the monastery from former crimes, by prayer and fasting, that it might become acceptable to our Lord, and so to lay the foundations, requested the King to give him leave to reside there all the approaching Lent, to pray. All which time, except Sundays, he fasted till the evening, according to custom, and then took no other sustenance than a little bread, one egg, and a little milk mixed with water. This, he said, was the custom of those of whom he had learnt the rule of regular [Pg 93] discipline; first, to consecrate to our Lord, by prayer and fasting, the places which they had newly received for building a monastery or a church. When there were ten days of Lent still remaining, there came a messenger to call him to the King; and he, that the religious work might not be intermitted, on account of the King's affairs, entreated his priest, Cynebil, who was also his own brother, to complete that which had been so piously begun. Cynebil readily complied, and when the time of fasting and prayer was over, he there built the monastery, which is now called Lestingan,[32] and established therein the religious customs of Lindisfarne."

"That church leader, therefore, following the King's wishes, picked a spot to build a monastery in rugged and remote mountains, which seemed more like hideouts for thieves and homes for wild animals than places for people. The man of God, wanting to purify the site for the monastery from past wrongdoings, through prayer and fasting, so it could be pleasing to our Lord, asked the King for permission to stay there throughout the upcoming Lent to pray. During this time, except for Sundays, he fasted until evening, as was customary, and then ate only a little bread, one egg, and a bit of milk mixed with water. He noted that this was the practice of those from whom he had learned the rules of regular discipline; first, to dedicate to our Lord, through prayer and fasting, the places they had just received for building a monastery or church. With ten days left in Lent, a messenger came to summon him to the King; and he, so that the sacred work wouldn't be interrupted due to the King's matters, asked his priest, Cynebil, who was also his brother, to carry on what had been so devoutly started. Cynebil willingly agreed, and when the time of fasting and prayer was complete, he built the monastery there, which is now called Lestingan,[32] and established the religious practices of Lindisfarne there."

At this time, owing to the influence of S. Wilfrid, who had been established at Ripon by Alchfrid, son of King Oswy, a great split was forming in the Church, which made itself felt even in the Royal family. All the missionaries of the north had been brought up in Iona, or Lindisfarne, and followed the Keltic ritual; Wilfrid, ordained by a French bishop, introduced Roman ways. Oswy had been baptized and educated by Keltic monks, and followed the usages of the Mother Church of Iona; but his wife, Eanfleda, had learned in exile Roman ways, and she brought with her to the court of Oswy a Canterbury priest—Romanus by name, and Roman in heart—who guided her religious exercises. Two Easter feasts were thus celebrated every year in the same house; and as the Saxon kings had transferred to the chief festivals of the Christian year, and especially to the Queen of Feasts, the meeting of assemblies, and the occasion which those assemblies gave them of displaying all their pomp, it is easy to understand how painful it must have been for Oswy to sit, with his earls and thanes, at the great feast of Easter, at the end of a wearisome Lent, and to see the Queen, with her maids of honour and her servants, persisting in fasting and penance, it being with her still only Palm Sunday.[33] [Pg 94] To settle this difference, and prevent a rupture, the King convoked a parliament at Whitby, in 664. In this parliament Colman, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Cedd, Bishop of the East Saxons, who had at this time re-established the episcopal see of London, and S. Hilda, the great abbess of Whitby, upheld the Keltic rite. On the other side were S. Wilfrid, the young Prince Alchfrid, and James, the deacon of York. In this parliament, it was decided that the Roman usages should be adopted, and Cedd renounced the customs of Lindisfarne, in which he had been educated, and returned to his diocese of London to spread the Roman usages there.

At this time, due to the influence of S. Wilfrid, who had been appointed at Ripon by Alchfrid, the son of King Oswy, a significant divide was emerging in the Church, which was also impacting the Royal family. All the missionaries from the north had been trained in Iona or Lindisfarne and followed the Celtic tradition; Wilfrid, ordained by a French bishop, brought in Roman practices. Oswy had been baptized and educated by Celtic monks and adhered to the traditions of the Mother Church in Iona; however, his wife, Eanfleda, had learned Roman ways while in exile, and she brought a Canterbury priest named Romanus, who was devoted to Roman practices, to guide her religious observances. As a result, two Easter celebrations were held every year in the same household; and since the Saxon kings had moved their major festivals to align with the significant Christian celebrations, particularly the Queen of Feasts, it’s easy to see how difficult it must have been for Oswy to sit with his earls and thanes at the grand Easter feast after a long Lent, only to witness the Queen, along with her maids of honor and servants, continuing to fast and perform penance, as it was still only Palm Sunday for her.[33] [Pg 94] To resolve this disagreement and avoid a split, the King called a parliament at Whitby in 664. In this parliament, Colman, Bishop of Lindisfarne, Cedd, Bishop of the East Saxons, who had recently re-established the episcopal see of London, and S. Hilda, the esteemed abbess of Whitby, supported the Celtic rite. On the other side were S. Wilfrid, the young Prince Alchfrid, and James, the deacon of York. It was resolved in this parliament that the Roman practices would be adopted, leading Cedd to renounce the customs of Lindisfarne, in which he had been raised, and return to his diocese in London to promote the Roman practices there.

"Cedd," says Bede, "for many years had charge of his bishopric and of the monastery of Lastingham, over which he had placed superiors. It happened that he came there at the time that a plague was raging, and he fell sick and died. He was first buried in the open air, but in process of time, a church of stone was built in the monastery, in honour of the Mother of God, and his body was interred in the same, on the right hand of the altar."

"Cedd," Bede writes, "managed his bishopric and the monastery of Lastingham for many years, where he appointed leaders. It happened that he arrived during a time when a plague was spreading, and he became ill and died. Initially, he was buried outdoors, but over time, a stone church was built in the monastery in honor of the Mother of God, and his body was laid to rest there, to the right of the altar."

The Bishop left the monastery to be governed after him by his brother Chad, who was afterwards made bishop. For the four brothers, Cedd, and Cynebil, Celin, and Ceadda (Chad)—which is a rare thing to be met with—were all celebrated priests of our Lord, and two of them also came to be bishops.

The Bishop left the monastery to be led after him by his brother Chad, who later became a bishop. The four brothers—Cedd, Cynebil, Celin, and Ceadda (Chad)—which is quite unusual, were all well-known priests of the Lord, and two of them also became bishops.

S. TYLLO, H.

(about 700.)

(about 700 words.)

[Cologne, German, and Belgian Martyrologies. The name is sometimes Tyllo, Thillo, or Hillo; in Belgium, Theaulon or Tilman. Authority: A life published in the Bollandists, which agrees with scattered notices of him in various writers.]

[Cologne, German, and Belgian Martyrologies. The name is sometimes Tyllo, Thillo, or Hillo; in Belgium, it’s Theaulon or Tilman. Authority: A biography published by the Bollandists, which agrees with various mentions of him in different texts.]

S. Tillo, the Patron of Iseghem, in Belgium, was a son of Saxon parents, but was stolen, when young, from his [Pg 95] home, and sold as a slave in Gaul. S. Eligius, who redeemed many slaves, bought the lad, and being struck with his beauty and intelligence, sent him to the monastery of Solignac, to be educated by S. Remacle, then abbot of Solignac. After his education was complete, he was returned to S. Eligius, who was a goldsmith, patronized by King Dagobert and the nobles of the court. With him Tillo learned the trade of a goldsmith, and made many vessels and ornaments of gold and silver, encrusted with gems, for the King. Whilst he worked, he had the Holy Scriptures open before him, and as he chased the silver and gold he studied the Word of God. He kept ever in his heart the maxim, "Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them," and all his work was done to the best of his ability, and executed with punctuality. Thus, he found favour with Eligius, and with all the customers of his master. When Eligius left his shop, and became a bishop, he called to the clerical office and to the religious life, his apprentice whom he had bought in the market many years before. Tillo, as priest and monk, showed a pattern of holiness, and was made abbot of Solignac, near Limoges. But ruling three hundred monks and attending to the worldly affairs of a great monastery, and more than that, the multitude of visitors, made the life one for which the goldsmith's apprentice, trained to work in silence, and think and read, felt himself unfitted; so one night he fled away and was lost. He penetrated the woods and mountains of Auvergne, seeking out a suitable spot for a hermitage, and one day he lit upon a quiet place, hid away among the rocky mountains, into which he could only just crawl on hands and knees. Having got in, he found a pleasant glade, surrounded with trees, having streams watering it from the mountain side, and there were plenty of apple trees, from which he concluded it had been previously [Pg 96] a hermitage. Here he lived for some time, praying and reading, and tilling the soil. By degrees, it was rumoured that a holy hermit lived in that glade, and the people of the neighbourhood came to see him, and he called himself Brother Paul. And to all who visited him this was the rule of life he gave, "Believe in God the Father Almighty, and in Jesus Christ his Son, also in the Holy Ghost, three persons, but one God. Keep your mind from vain cogitations and your body pure from all uncleanness; avoid self-conceit, and be instant in prayer."

S. Tillo, the Patron of Iseghem in Belgium, was the son of Saxon parents but was kidnapped as a child from his home and sold into slavery in Gaul. S. Eligius, who rescued many slaves, bought the boy. Captivated by his beauty and intelligence, he sent him to the Solignac monastery to be educated by S. Remacle, the abbot at the time. Once his education was finished, he was returned to S. Eligius, a goldsmith who was favored by King Dagobert and the noble court. Under Eligius, Tillo learned the goldsmith's trade and created numerous gold and silver vessels and ornaments, adorned with gems, for the King. While he worked, he kept the Holy Scriptures open in front of him, and as he shaped the silver and gold, he studied God's Word. He always remembered the principle, "Do to others what you want them to do to you," and he put forth his best effort in all his work, completing it on time. Because of this, he earned the favor of Eligius and all of his master's clients. When Eligius left the shop to become a bishop, he called his apprentice, whom he had bought many years ago, into the clergy and a life of service. As a priest and monk, Tillo displayed a model of holiness and became the abbot of Solignac, near Limoges. However, managing three hundred monks and dealing with the many worldly affairs of a large monastery, not to mention the throngs of visitors, proved to be too much for the goldsmith's apprentice, who was used to working in silence and studying. So one night, he escaped and got lost. He made his way through the woods and mountains of Auvergne, searching for a suitable place to build a hermitage, and eventually stumbled upon a quiet spot hidden among the rocky mountains, which he could only enter on hands and knees. Once inside, he found a lovely clearing surrounded by trees, with streams flowing from the mountains, and plenty of apple trees, leading him to believe it had once been a hermitage. Here, he lived for a while, praying, reading, and tending the land. Over time, word spread that a holy hermit resided in that glade, and locals came to see him, where he introduced himself as Brother Paul. To all who visited, he offered this guideline for life: "Believe in God the Father Almighty, in Jesus Christ His Son, and in the Holy Spirit—three persons but one God. Keep your mind free from useless thoughts, keep your body pure from all filth, avoid arrogance, and be devoted to prayer."

And when there was ever more and more of a concourse, and many desired to put themselves under his direction, he went forth, and sought out a suitable spot, and found it at Bayac, where he founded a monastery. There he remained some while, till a longing came over him to revisit Solignac, and he fled away when all his monks were asleep, as he had fled previously from Solignac. And when he reached Solignac, he was received with great joy. Then he asked the abbot Gundebert to build him a little cell outside the monastery, in which he might reside with one or two of the brethren who sought a stricter life. His wish was granted, and in this cell he spent the rest of his days.

And as more and more people gathered, many wanted to follow his lead. He went out to find a suitable place and discovered it at Bayac, where he established a monastery. He stayed there for a while until he felt the urge to return to Solignac. He left during the night while all his monks were asleep, just like he had escaped from Solignac before. When he arrived at Solignac, he was welcomed with great joy. He then asked Abbot Gundebert to build him a small cell outside the monastery, where he could live with one or two brothers who wanted a stricter lifestyle. His request was granted, and he spent the rest of his days in that cell.

He is regarded with special veneration at Iseghem, in Flanders, because he visited that place in company with S. Eligius, and there remained some time teaching the people.

He is highly respected in Iseghem, in Flanders, because he visited there with S. Eligius and stayed for a while to teach the people.

In art, he is represented with a chalice in one hand and an abbatial staff in the other.

In art, he is shown holding a chalice in one hand and an abbatial staff in the other.

S. ALDRIC, B. OF MANS.

(a.d. 855.)

(A.D. 855.)

[Gallican Martyrology. Ancient Life in Baluze: Miscel. iii.]

[Gallican Martyrology. Ancient Life in Baluze: Miscellaneous iii.]

S. Aldric was born about the year 800. When aged [Pg 97] fourteen his father sent him to the court of Louis the Pious. One day, as he was praying in church at Aix-la-Chapelle, he felt called by God to leave a life in the world, and dedicate himself to the service of the altar. With difficulty he persuaded the King to let him depart, and he was sent to the Bishop of Metz. There he remained some years, received the tonsure, and was ordained priest.

S. Aldric was born around the year 800. When he was fourteen, his father sent him to the court of Louis the Pious. One day, while he was praying in church at Aix-la-Chapelle, he felt called by God to leave his worldly life and dedicate himself to serving at the altar. After some effort, he convinced the King to let him go, and he was sent to the Bishop of Metz. He stayed there for several years, received the tonsure, and was ordained as a priest.

Louis the Pious, hearing of the wisdom and sanctity of Aldric, appointed him to be his chaplain and confessor. Aldric was afterwards elected Bishop of Mans, and was consecrated on the 22nd December, 832. When raised to the episcopal throne, he kept a stricter guard over himself, and treated his body with great rigour, but to others he was gentle and lenient. All his income was spent in works of mercy. He redeemed captives, relieved the poor, built churches, and founded monasteries. In the civil wars which divided the French monarchy, his fidelity to his prince and to Charles the Bald, his successor, involved him in trouble, and he was expelled for about a twelvemonth from his see. On his return, he laboured more indefatigably than ever to perfect the discipline of his diocese, for which purpose he collected the canons of Councils and decrees of the Popes into what he called a Capitulary. Some fragments have reached us of the regulations which he made for the celebration of divine service; in which he orders ten wax candles, and ninety lamps, to be lighted in his Cathedral on all great festivals.

Louis the Pious, learning about the wisdom and holiness of Aldric, appointed him as his chaplain and confessor. Aldric was later elected Bishop of Mans and was consecrated on December 22, 832. Once he became a bishop, he maintained stricter discipline over himself and treated his body very harshly, but he was gentle and lenient with others. He spent all his income on acts of mercy. He rescued captives, helped the poor, built churches, and established monasteries. During the civil wars that split the French monarchy, his loyalty to his king and to Charles the Bald, his successor, caused him trouble, and he was expelled from his see for about a year. Upon his return, he worked harder than ever to improve the discipline of his diocese, gathering the canons of Councils and papal decrees into what he called a Capitulary. Some fragments of the regulations he created for divine service have survived, which include his instruction for ten wax candles and ninety lamps to be lit in his Cathedral on all major festivals.

S. CANUTE LAVARD, M.

(a.d. 1133.)

(A.D. 1133.)

[Schleswig and Scandinavian Breviaries. Life in Knytlinga Saga, Saxo Grammaticus, Schleswig Breviary, &c.]

[Schleswig and Scandinavian Breviaries. Life in Knytlinga Saga, Saxo Grammaticus, Schleswig Breviary, etc.]

Canute Lavard was second son of Eric the Good, King [Pg 98] of Denmark. His elder brother, Nicolas, became King of Denmark, though he was illegitimate, as Canute was very young. Nicolas had a son named Magnus, who was also brought up with Canute. Canute purchased the duchy of Schleswig, and occupied himself with clearing the seas and islands of Denmark of the pirates who infested them. On one occasion, a pirate whom he had captured, and condemned with others to be hung, cried out that he was of royal blood, and was related to Canute. "Then," said the duke, "you shall hang at the topmast head above the others."

Canute Lavard was the second son of Eric the Good, King of Denmark. His older brother, Nicolas, became King of Denmark despite being illegitimate, as Canute was still very young. Nicolas had a son named Magnus, who grew up alongside Canute. Canute acquired the duchy of Schleswig and focused on clearing the seas and islands of Denmark of the pirates that plagued them. Once, a pirate he had captured and sentenced to hang shouted that he was of royal blood and related to Canute. "Then," said the duke, "you'll hang from the topmast above the others."

Henry, King of the Sclaves, being dead, Canute succeeded him. The popularity of this prince, owing to his gentleness, virtue, and piety, stirred up the envy of Magnus, who feared lest he should put in a claim to the throne of Denmark, to which indeed he had a right prior to Magnus and his father. In order to make sure of the succession, Magnus decoyed his unsuspicious kinsman into a wood, surrounded him with armed men, and killed him.

Henry, King of the Slavs, died, and Canute took over. Canute's popularity, due to his kindness, goodness, and religious devotion, made Magnus jealous. Magnus was worried that Canute might claim the throne of Denmark, which Canute actually had a legitimate claim to before Magnus and his father. To secure his own position, Magnus tricked his unsuspecting relative into a forest, surrounded him with armed men, and killed him.

Seal of the City of Brussels.

FOOTNOTES:

[31] On the Blackwater; there is no city there now, but numerous traces of an ancient settlement, and an old chapel marks the site, in the parish of Bradwell.

[31] On the Blackwater; there isn't a city there now, but there are many signs of an ancient settlement, and an old chapel marks the location, in the parish of Bradwell.

[32] Lastingham, near Pickering, in Yorkshire.

[32] Lastingham, close to Pickering, in Yorkshire.

[33] Bede iii. 25.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Bede III. 25.


January 8.

S. Lucian, B. M., and Companions, at Beauvais.
S. Patiens, B. of Metz, circ. a.d. 152.
S. Atticus, Patr. of Constantinople, a.d. 425.
S. Severinus, P. and Apostle of Austria, a.d. 482.
S. Severinus, B. C., in Italy, 6th cent.
B. Baldwin, Archdeacon of Laon, M., 6th cent.
S. Frodobert, Ab., at Troyes, 7th cent.
S. Gudula, V., at Brussels, circ. a.d. 712.
S. Pega, V., in England, circ. a.d. 718.
S. Erard, Bishop in Bavaria, 8th cent.
S. Garibald, B. of Ratisbon, circ. a.d. 1252.
S. Wulsin, B. of Sherbourn, a.d. 983.
S. Laurence Justiniani, Patr. of Venice, a.d. 1455.

Saint Lucian, Bishop and Martyr, and Companions, at Beauvais.
Saint Patiens, Bishop of Metz, around A.D. 152.
Saint Atticus, Patriarch of Constantinople, A.D. 425.
Saint Severinus, Patriarch and Apostle of Austria, A.D. 482.
Saint Severinus, Bishop of Cagliari, Italy, 6th century
Blessed Baldwin, Archdeacon of Laon, Martyr, 6th century
Saint Frodobert, Abbot, at Troyes, 7th century
Saint Gudula, Virgin, at Brussels, around A.D. 712.
Saint Pega, Virgin, in England, around A.D. 718.
Saint Erard, Bishop in Bavaria, 8th century
Saint Garibald, Bishop of Ratisbon, around A.D. 1252.
Saint Wulsin, Bishop of Sherbourn, A.D. 983.
Saint Laurence Justiniani, Patriarch of Venice, A.D. 1455.

S. LUCIAN, B. M. AT BEAUVAIS.

[Roman, Gallican, and Anglican Martyrologies; Bede, Ado, Notker, and others. His date uncertain. As little is known of this S. Lucian, it is probable that the so-called Reformers retained his name in the Anglican Calendar by mistake, confusing him with the S. Lucian of Antioch, Jan. 7th, a much better known Saint.]

[Roman, Gallican, and Anglican Martyrologies; Bede, Ado, Notker, and others. His date is unclear. Since not much is known about this S. Lucian, it's likely that the so-called Reformers included his name in the Anglican Calendar by mistake, confusing him with S. Lucian of Antioch, who is celebrated on Jan. 7th and is a much better-known Saint.]

T.

here is much uncertainty about this martyr. Some writers maintain that he was a disciple of S. Peter. Others say that he was sent into Gaul by S. Clement, Bishop of Rome, at the end of the first century, and suffered death under the reign of Domitian. It is certain, however, that he came into Gaul to preach the faith to the pagan inhabitants, and that he finished his labours at Beauvais, by the death of a martyr. There is good reason to believe that he was of noble Roman blood, and that he accompanied S. Denys of Paris, or S. Quentin of Amiens, on his mission, about the year 245. S. Lucian was accompanied by his friends, Maximian and Julian. They suffered in different places, [Pg 100] and on different days; but they were laid by faithful disciples in one tomb, and are commemorated together. S. Lucian is called in some calendars a priest; but in an ancient one of the ninth century, he is styled a bishop, and such has been the constant tradition at Beauvais.

There is a lot of uncertainty about this martyr. Some writers believe he was a disciple of St. Peter. Others claim he was sent to Gaul by St. Clement, the Bishop of Rome, at the end of the first century and died during the reign of Domitian. However, it’s clear that he came to Gaul to preach the faith to the pagan inhabitants, and he completed his mission in Beauvais by dying as a martyr. There is good reason to think he was of noble Roman heritage and that he accompanied St. Denys of Paris or St. Quentin of Amiens on his mission around the year 245. St. Lucian was joined by his friends, Maximian and Julian. They suffered in different places and on different days, but faithful disciples buried them all in one tomb, and they are commemorated together. St. Lucian is referred to as a priest in some calendars, but in an ancient ninth-century calendar, he is called a bishop, and that has been the consistent tradition in Beauvais.

In art, he is represented holding his head in his hands.

In art, he's depicted with his head in his hands.

S. PATIENS, B.

(about a.d. 152.)

(around A.D. 152.)

[Roman Martyrology; Martyrologies of Cologne, of Rabanus, Notker, &c. His life is traditional.]

[Roman Martyrology; Martyrologies of Cologne, Rabanus, Notker, etc. His life is based on tradition.]

S. Patiens is said to have been a disciple of S. John the Evangelist, and to have been sent by him into Gaul. He settled at Metz, where he became the fourth Bishop.

S. Patiens is said to have been a disciple of S. John the Evangelist and was sent by him to Gaul. He settled in Metz, where he became the fourth Bishop.

S. ATTICUS, PATR. OF CONSTANTINOPLE.

(a.d. 425.)

(A.D. 425.)

[Roman Martyrology, that of Usuardus and the German Martyrologies. Authorities for his life, very numerous: Socrates, Sozomen, Synesius, Palladius, Photius, Nicephorus, Zonaras, &c.]

[Roman Martyrology, including that of Usuardus and the German Martyrologies. There are many sources for his life: Socrates, Sozomen, Synesius, Palladius, Photius, Nicephorus, Zonaras, etc.]

Atticus, a man of gentle spirit and conciliatory manners, succeeded S. Chrysostom in the see of Constantinople. He, at first, refused to admit the name of his predecessor into the diptychs; but was afterwards moved to yield, in accordance with the Latin Church, which refused communion with the see of Constantinople till the righteousness of the cause of the great Chrysostom had been acknowledged. Atticus was engaged in correspondence on this subject with S. Cyril of Alexandria, who vehemently resented the admission of the name of Chrysostom, till he also yielded at the [Pg 101] instance of Isidore of Pelusium.

Atticus, a kindhearted man with a peaceful demeanor, took over from S. Chrysostom as the bishop of Constantinople. At first, he refused to include his predecessor's name in the diptychs, but later changed his mind to align with the Latin Church, which would not communicate with the see of Constantinople until the justice of Chrysostom's cause was recognized. Atticus was in discussions about this with S. Cyril of Alexandria, who strongly opposed the inclusion of Chrysostom's name until he too agreed at the [Pg 101] request of Isidore of Pelusium.

S. SEVERINUS, P. AP. OF NORICUM.

(a.d. 482.)

(A.D. 482.)

[Roman Martyrology and those of Germany. The life of S. Severinus was written by his disciple, Eugippius, in the year 511, as he states in a letter to Paschatius, the deacon. The following life is extracted from Mr. Kingsley's "Hermits,"[34] with certain necessary modifications. What has been once well done, the author is unwilling to do again, and do in an inferior manner.]

The Roman Martyrology and those from Germany. The life of St. Severinus was written by his disciple, Eugippius, in the year 511, as he notes in a letter to Deacon Paschatius. This account is drawn from Mr. Kingsley's "Hermits,"__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ with some necessary modifications. The author is reluctant to redo what has already been done well, especially in a lesser manner.

In the middle of the fifth century the province of Noricum (Austria, as we should now call it), was the very highway of invading barbarians, the centre of the human Maelstrom, in which Huns, Allemanni, Rugii, and a dozen wild tribes more, wrestled up and down, and round the starving and beleaguered towns of what had once been a happy and fertile province, each tribe striving to trample the other under foot, and to march southward, over their corpses, to plunder what was still left of the already plundered wealth of Italy and Rome. The difference of race, of tongue, and of manners, between the conquered and their conquerors, was made more painful by difference in creed. The conquering Germans and Huns were either Arians or heathens. The conquered race (though probably of very mixed blood), who called themselves Romans, because they spoke Latin, and lived under the Roman law, were orthodox Catholics; and the miseries of religious persecution were too often added to the usual miseries of invasion.

In the middle of the fifth century, the province of Noricum (now known as Austria) was the main route for invading barbarians, the center of a chaotic struggle where Huns, Allemanni, Rugii, and numerous other wild tribes fought fiercely around the starving and besieged towns of what had once been a thriving and fertile region. Each tribe aimed to overpower the others and move southward, over their corpses, to loot what little remained of the already plundered wealth of Italy and Rome. The differences in race, language, and customs between the conquerors and the conquered were made even more painful by their differing beliefs. The conquering Germans and Huns were mostly Arians or pagans, while the conquered population (likely of mixed ancestry) identified as Romans due to their Latin language and adherence to Roman law, practicing orthodox Catholicism. The hardships of religious persecution were frequently added to the usual suffering caused by invasion.

It was about the year 455-60. Attila, the great King of the Huns, who called himself—and who was—"the Scourge of God" was just dead. His empire had broken up. The whole centre of Europe was in a state of anarchy and war; and the hapless Romans along the Danube were in the last extremity of terror, not knowing by what fresh invader their crops would be swept off up to the very gates of the walled towers, which were their only defence; when there appeared among them, coming out of the East, a man of God.

It was around the years 455-60. Attila, the powerful King of the Huns, who called himself—and truly was—"the Scourge of God," had just died. His empire had fallen apart. Central Europe was in chaos and conflict; and the unfortunate Romans along the Danube were in a state of absolute fear, not knowing which new invader would come to destroy their crops right up to the gates of their walled towers, which were their only defense; when a man of God appeared among them, coming from the East.

Who he was he would not tell. His speech showed him to be an African Roman—a fellow-countryman of S. Augustine—probably from the neighbourhood of Carthage. He had certainly at one time gone to some desert in the East, zealous to learn "the more perfect life." Severinus, he said, was his name; a name which indicated high rank, as did the manners and the scholarship of him who bore it. But more than his name he would not tell. "If you take me for a runaway slave," he said, smiling, "get ready money to redeem me with when my master demands me back." For he believed that they would have need of him; that God had sent him into that land that he might be of use to its wretched people. And certainly he could have come into the neighbourhood of Vienna, at that moment, for no other purpose than to do good, unless he came to deal in slaves.

Who he was, he wouldn't say. His speech revealed him to be an African Roman—a fellow countryman of St. Augustine—probably from near Carthage. It was clear that at one point he had gone to some desert in the East, eager to learn "the more perfect life." He said his name was Severinus; a name that suggested high status, as did his manners and education. But beyond his name, he wouldn’t say more. "If you think I'm a runaway slave," he smiled, "get some money ready to buy me back when my master comes looking for me." He believed he was needed; that God had sent him to that land to help its suffering people. And surely he couldn’t have come near Vienna at that moment for any other reason than to do good, unless he was involved in the slave trade.

He settled first at a town, called by his biographer Casturis; and, lodging with the warden of the church, lived quietly the hermit life. Meanwhile the German tribes were prowling round the town; and Severinus, going one day into the church, began to warn the priests and clergy, and all the people, that a destruction was coming on them which they could only avert by prayer, and fasting, and the works of mercy. They laughed him to scorn, confiding in their lofty Roman walls, which the invaders—wild horsemen, who had no military engines—were unable either to scale or batter down. Severinus left the town at once, prophesying, it was said, the very day and hour of its fall. He went on to the next town, which was then closely garrisoned by a barbarian force, and repeated his warning there: but while the people were listening to him, there came an old man to the gate, and told them how Casturis had been already [Pg 103] sacked, as the man of God had foretold; and going into the church, threw himself at the feet of S. Severinus, and said that he had been saved by his merits from being destroyed with his fellow-townsmen.

He first settled in a town called Casturis, according to his biographer. While staying with the church warden, he lived a quiet hermit's life. Meanwhile, the German tribes were lurking around the town, and one day Severinus went into the church to warn the priests, clergy, and everyone else that destruction was coming, which could only be avoided through prayer, fasting, and acts of charity. They mocked him, trusting in their strong Roman walls, which the invaders—wild horsemen without siege equipment—couldn't scale or break down. Severinus immediately left the town, prophesying the exact day and hour of its downfall, it was said. He traveled to the next town, which was heavily guarded by a barbarian force, and repeated his warning there. While the people listened, an old man approached the gate and told them that Casturis had already been sacked, just as the man of God had predicted. He then went into the church, fell at the feet of St. Severinus, and said he had been saved by his merits from being destroyed along with his fellow townspeople.

Then the dwellers in the town hearkened to the man of God, and gave themselves up to fasting, and almsgiving, and prayer for three whole days.

Then the people in the town listened to the man of God and committed themselves to fasting, giving to the needy, and praying for three full days.

And on the third day, when the solemnity of the evening sacrifice was fulfilled, a sudden earthquake happened, and the barbarians, seized with panic fear, and probably hating and dreading—like all those wild tribes—confinement between four stone walls, instead of the free open life of the tent and the stockade, forced the Romans to open their gates to them, rushed out into the night, and, in their madness, slew each other.

And on the third day, after the evening sacrifice was completed, a sudden earthquake struck. The barbarians, filled with panic and likely hating their confinement—like all those wild tribes—between four stone walls, instead of the freedom of living in tents and stockades, forced the Romans to open their gates. They surged into the night and, in their frenzy, killed one another.

In those days a famine fell upon the people of Vienna; and they, as their sole remedy, thought good to send for the man of God from the neighbouring town. He went, and preached to them, too, repentance and almsgiving. The rich, it seems, had hidden up their stores of corn, and left the poor to starve. At least S. Severinus discovered (by divine revelation, it was supposed), that a widow named Procula had done as much. He called her out into the midst of the people, and asked her why she, a noble woman and free-born, had made herself a slave to avarice, which is idolatry. If she would not give her corn to Christ's poor, let her throw it into the Danube to feed the fish, for any gain from it she would not have. Procula was abashed, and served out her hoards thereupon willingly to the poor; and a little while afterwards, to the astonishment of all, vessels came down the Danube laden with every kind of merchandize. They had been frozen up for many days near Passau, in the thick ice of the river Enns: but the prayers of God's servant had opened the ice-gates, and let them down the [Pg 104] stream before the usual time.

In those days, a famine struck the people of Vienna; and their only solution was to call for the man of God from the nearby town. He came and preached to them about repentance and charity. Apparently, the rich had hoarded their supplies of grain, leaving the poor to starve. At least S. Severinus found out (through divine revelation, as people believed) that a widow named Procula was responsible. He called her out before the crowd and asked her why she, a noblewoman and freeborn, had become a slave to greed, which is a form of idolatry. If she wouldn’t share her grain with Christ’s poor, she might as well throw it into the Danube to feed the fish, as she wouldn’t profit from it. Procula felt ashamed and willingly distributed her stash to the poor; and shortly after, to everyone’s amazement, boats came down the Danube loaded with all kinds of goods. These had been trapped in thick ice near Passau for many days, but the prayers of God’s servant had opened the ice gates and allowed them to pass down the [Pg 104] river earlier than usual.

Then the wild German horsemen swept around the walls, and carried off human beings and cattle, as many as they could find. Severinus, like some old Hebrew prophet, did not shrink from advising hard blows, where hard blows could avail. Mamertinus, the tribune, or officer in command, told him that he had so few soldiers, and those so ill-armed, that he dare not face the enemy. Severinus answered that they should get weapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would fight for them, and they should hold their peace: only if they took any captives they should bring them safe to him. At the second milestone from the city they came upon the plunderers, who fled at once, leaving their arms behind. Thus was the prophecy of the man of God fulfilled. The Romans brought the captives back to him unharmed. He loosed their bonds, gave them food and drink, and let them go. But they were to tell their comrades that, if ever they came near that spot again, celestial vengeance would fall on them, for the God of the Christians fought from heaven in his servants cause.

Then the wild German horsemen rode around the walls and took away as many people and cattle as they could find. Severinus, like an old Hebrew prophet, didn’t hesitate to suggest strong measures where they would work. Mamertinus, the officer in command, told him that he had very few soldiers and that they were poorly armed, so he couldn’t risk facing the enemy. Severinus replied that they should take weapons from the barbarians themselves; the Lord would fight for them, and they should stay silent: but if they captured anyone, they should bring them to him safely. At the second milestone from the city, they encountered the looters, who quickly fled, leaving their weapons behind. Thus, the prophecy of the man of God was fulfilled. The Romans returned the captives to him unharmed. He released their bonds, gave them food and drink, and let them go. However, they were to tell their comrades that if they ever returned to that spot, divine vengeance would come down on them because the God of Christians was fighting from heaven on behalf of his servant.

So the barbarians trembled, and went away. And the fear of S. Severinus fell on all the Goths, heretic Arians though they were; and on the Rugii, who held the north bank of the Danube in those evil days. S. Severinus, meanwhile, went out of Vienna, and built himself a cell at a place called "At the Vineyards." But some benevolent impulse—divine revelation his biographer calls it—prompted him to return, and build himself a cell on a hill close to Vienna, round which other cells soon grew up, tenanted by his disciples. "There," says his biographer, "he longed to escape the crowds of men who were wont to come to him, and cling closer to God in continual prayer: but the more he longed to dwell in solitude, the more often he was warned by revelations not to deny his presence to the afflicted [Pg 105] people." He fasted continually; he went barefoot even in the midst of winter, which was so severe, the story continues, in those days around Vienna, that waggons crossed the Danube on the solid ice: and yet, instead of being puffed-up by his own virtues, he set an example of humility to all, and bade them with tears to pray for him, that the Saviour's gifts to him might not heap condemnation on his head.

So the barbarians were afraid and left. The fear of S. Severinus spread among all the Goths, even though they were heretic Arians, and among the Rugii, who lived on the north bank of the Danube during those dark times. S. Severinus then left Vienna and built himself a small dwelling in a place called "At the Vineyards." However, a benevolent impulse—what his biographer refers to as divine revelation—led him to return and construct a cell on a hill near Vienna, which soon attracted other cells inhabited by his followers. "There," his biographer states, "he yearned to escape the throngs of people who would come to him and to draw closer to God in constant prayer: but the more he desired solitude, the more often he was urged by revelations not to turn away from the suffering people." He fasted all the time and went barefoot even in the harsh winter, which the story says was so severe that wagons could cross the Danube on solid ice; yet, instead of becoming arrogant about his virtues, he set an example of humility for everyone, asking them with tears to pray for him so that the gifts the Saviour had given him would not lead to his condemnation.

Over the wild Rugii S. Severinus seems to have acquired unbounded influence. Their king, Flaccitheus, used to pour out his sorrows to him, and tell him how the princes of the Goths would surely slay him; for when he had asked leave of him to pass on into Italy, he would not let him go. But S. Severinus prophesied to him that the Goths would do him no harm. Only one warning he must take: "Let it not grieve him to ask peace even for the least of men."

Over the wild Rugii, St. Severinus seemed to have gained tremendous influence. Their king, Flaccitheus, would share his troubles with him, expressing his fears that the Gothic princes would surely kill him; after all, when he had asked for permission to travel into Italy, St. Severinus wouldn't allow him to go. But St. Severinus prophesied that the Goths would not harm him. He only gave one piece of advice: "Do not hesitate to seek peace even for the smallest of men."

The friendship which had thus begun between the barbarian king and the cultivated Saint was carried on by his son Feva: but his "deadly and noxious wife," Gisa, who appears to have been a fierce Arian, always, says his biographer, kept him back from clemency. One story of Gisa's misdeeds is so characteristic both of the manners of the time and of the style in which the original biography is written, that I shall take leave to insert it at length.

The friendship that started between the barbarian king and the educated Saint was continued by his son Feva. However, his "deadly and noxious wife," Gisa, who seems to have been a fierce Arian, always, according to his biographer, kept him from showing mercy. One story about Gisa's wrongdoings is so typical of both the customs of that time and the style of the original biography that I would like to share it in full.

"The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the afore-mentioned Flaccitheus, following his father's devotion, began, at the commencement of his reign, often to visit the holy man. His deadly and noxious wife, named Gisa, always kept him back from the remedies of clemency. For she, among the other plague-spots of her iniquity, even tried to have certain Catholics re-baptized: but when her husband did not consent, on account of his reverence for S. Severinus, she gave up immediately her sacrilegious intention, burdening the Romans, nevertheless, with hard conditions, [Pg 106] and commanding some of them to be exiled to the Danube. For when one day, she, having come to the village next to Vienna, had ordered some of them to be sent over the Danube, and condemned to the most menial offices of slavery, the man of God sent to her, and begged that they might be let go. But she, blazing up in a flame of fury, ordered the harshest of answers to be returned. 'I pray thee,' she said, 'servant of God, hiding there within thy cell, allow us to settle what we choose about our own slaves.' But the man of God hearing this, 'I trust,' he said, 'in my Lord Jesus Christ, that she will be forced by necessity to fulfil that which in her wicked will she has despised.' And forthwith a swift rebuke followed, and brought low the soul of the arrogant woman. For she had confined in close custody certain barbarian goldsmiths, that they might make regal ornaments. To them the son of the aforesaid king, Frederick by name, still a little boy, had gone in, in childish levity, on the very day on which the queen had despised the servant of God. The goldsmiths put a sword to the child's breast, saying, that if any one attempted to enter, without giving them an oath that they should be protected, he should die; and that they would slay the king's child first, and themselves afterwards, seeing that they had no hope of life left, being worn out with long prison. When she heard that, the cruel and impious queen, rending her garments for grief, cried out, 'O servant of God, Severinus, are the injuries which I did thee thus avenged? Hast thou obtained, by the earnest prayer thou hast poured out, this punishment for my contempt, that thou shouldst avenge it on my own flesh and blood?' Then, running up and down with manifold contrition and miserable lamentation, she confessed that for the act of contempt which she had committed against the servant of God she was struck by the vengeance of the present blow; and forthwith she sent [Pg 107] knights to ask for forgiveness, and sent across the river the Romans, his prayers for whom she had despised. The goldsmiths, having received immediately a promise of safety, and giving up the child, were in like manner let go.

The King Feletheus (who is also Feva), the son of the previously mentioned Flaccitheus, began, at the start of his reign, to frequently visit the holy man, following his father's devotion. However, his cruel and malicious wife, named Gisa, always held him back from acts of kindness. Among her many wicked deeds, she even tried to have some Catholics re-baptized; but when her husband refused, out of respect for St. Severinus, she quickly abandoned her sacrilegious plan, though she still burdened the Romans with harsh demands, [Pg 106] and ordered some of them to be exiled to the Danube. One day, after she had ordered some nearby Roman villagers sent across the Danube and condemned to the most menial forms of slavery, the man of God sent her a message asking that they be released. But she, consumed by rage, ordered the harshest response to be given. "I beg you," she said, "servant of God, hiding away in your cell, let us handle our own slaves as we wish." When the man of God heard this, he replied, "I trust in my Lord Jesus Christ that she will be compelled by necessity to do what she has carelessly disregarded." Immediately, a swift rebuke came, bringing low the soul of the arrogant woman. She had imprisoned some barbarian goldsmiths to make royal ornaments. On the very day the queen had disrespected the servant of God, her young son, Frederick, had wandered in, unaware. The goldsmiths held a sword to the child's chest, declaring that anyone attempting to enter without swearing an oath of protection would die, threatening to kill the king's child first, and then themselves, since they had lost all hope after a long imprisonment. Upon hearing this, the cruel and impious queen, tearing her garments in grief, cried out, "O servant of God, Severinus, are your injuries avenged in this manner? Have you obtained this punishment for my contempt through your earnest prayers, wreaking havoc on my own flesh and blood?" Then, filled with deep remorse and cries of sorrow, she acknowledged that she was suffering the consequences of her contempt for the servant of God, and immediately sent [Pg 107] knights to seek forgiveness, and sent back the Romans, for whom she had disregarded his prayers. The goldsmiths, having been assured their safety, released the child and were similarly let go.

"The most reverend Severinus, when he heard this, gave boundless thanks to the Creator, who sometimes puts off the prayers of suppliants for this end, that as faith, hope, and charity grow, while lesser things are sought, He may concede greater things. Lastly, this did the mercy of the Omnipotent Saviour work, that while it brought to slavery a woman free, but cruel over much, she was forced to restore to liberty those who were enslaved. This having been marvellously gained, the queen hastened with her husband to the servant of God, and showed him her son, who, she confessed, had been freed from the verge of death by his prayers, and promised that she would never go against his commands."

"The Most Reverend Severinus, upon hearing this, offered endless thanks to the Creator, who sometimes delays the prayers of those who plead in order that, as faith, hope, and love grow while lesser things are pursued, He can grant even greater gifts. Ultimately, the mercy of the Almighty Savior was at work, as it brought a free woman, who was excessively cruel, into bondage, forcing her to restore freedom to those who were enslaved. Having achieved this remarkable outcome, the queen hurried to the servant of God with her husband and presented her son, whom she acknowledged had been saved from the brink of death through his prayers, and she promised that she would never disobey his commands."

To this period of Severinus' life belongs the famous story of his interview with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy, and brother of the great Onulf or Wolf, who was the founder of the family of the Guelphs, Counts of Altorf, and the direct ancestors of Victoria, Queen of England. Their father was Ædecon, secretary at one time of Attila, and chief of the little tribe of Turklings, who, though German, had clung faithfully to Attila's sons, and came to ruin at the great battle of Netad, when the empire of the Huns broke up at once and for ever. Then Odoacer and his brother started over the Alps to seek their fortunes in Italy, and take service, after the fashion of young German adventurers, with the Romans; and they came to S. Severinus' cell, and went in, heathens as they probably were, to ask a blessing of the holy man; and Odoacer had to stoop and to stand stooping, so huge he was. The Saint saw that he was no common lad, and said, "Go to Italy, clothed though thou [Pg 108] be in ragged sheepskins: thou shalt soon give greater gifts to thy friends." So Odoacer went up into Italy, deposed the last of the Cæsars, a paltry boy, Romulus Augustulus by name, and found himself, to his own astonishment, and that of all the world, the first German king of Italy; and, when he was at the height of his power, he remembered the prophecy of Severinus, and sent to him, offering him any boon he chose to ask. But all that the Saint asked was, that he should forgive some Romans whom he had banished. S. Severinus meanwhile foresaw that Odoacer's kingdom would not last, as he seems to have foreseen many things. For when certain German knights were boasting before him of the power and glory of Odoacer, he said that it would last some thirteen, or at most fourteen years; and the prophecy (so all men said in those days) came exactly true.

To this time in Severinus' life belongs the famous story of his meeting with Odoacer, the first barbarian king of Italy, and brother of the great Onulf or Wolf, who founded the Guelph family, Counts of Altorf, and who are the direct ancestors of Victoria, Queen of England. Their father was Ædecon, who once served as secretary to Attila and was the chief of the small Turklings tribe, who, although German, had remained loyal to Attila's sons and perished at the great battle of Netad, when the Huns' empire collapsed permanently. Odoacer and his brother then crossed the Alps to seek their fortunes in Italy, looking to serve the Romans like young German adventurers often did; they came to St. Severinus' cell and entered, likely as heathens, to ask for a blessing from the holy man, with Odoacer having to stoop to enter due to his enormous size. The Saint recognized he was no ordinary young man and said, "Go to Italy, even if you’re dressed in ragged sheepskins: you will soon give greater gifts to your friends." So, Odoacer went to Italy, overthrew the last of the Caesars, a pathetic boy named Romulus Augustulus, and found himself, to his own surprise and that of the entire world, the first German king of Italy. When he reached the peak of his power, he remembered Severinus' prophecy and sent for him, offering him any request he wanted. But all the Saint asked for was that Odoacer forgive some Romans he had exiled. Meanwhile, St. Severinus foresaw that Odoacer's kingdom wouldn't last, as he predicted many things. When certain German knights boasted to him about Odoacer's power and glory, he stated it would last about thirteen or, at most, fourteen years; and the prophecy (as everyone said in those days) turned out to be exactly true.

There is no need to follow the details of S. Severinus's labours through some five-and-twenty years of perpetual self-sacrifice—and, as far as this world was concerned, perpetual disaster. Eugippius's chapters are little save a catalogue of towns sacked one after the other, from Passau to Vienna, till the miserable survivors of the war seemed to have concentrated themselves under S. Severinus's guardianship in the latter city. We find, too, tales of famine, of locust-swarms, of little victories over the barbarians, which do not arrest wholesale defeat: but we find, through all, S. Severinus labouring like a true man of God, conciliating the invading chiefs, redeeming captives, procuring for the cities which were still standing supplies of clothes for the fugitives, persuading the husbandmen, seemingly through large districts, to give even in time of dearth a tithe of their produce to the poor;—a tale of noble work indeed.

There's no need to delve into the specifics of S. Severinus's efforts over twenty-five years of constant self-sacrifice—and, in terms of this world, constant disaster. Eugippius's chapters mostly list the towns that were plundered one after another, from Passau to Vienna, until the miserable survivors of the war seemed to gather under S. Severinus's protection in the latter city. We also hear stories of famine, swarms of locusts, and small victories over the barbarians that don't change the overall defeat. Yet, through it all, S. Severinus worked hard like a true man of God, making peace with the invading leaders, redeeming captives, securing clothing supplies for the cities that remained for the fleeing people, and persuading farmers, seemingly across large areas, to donate even during tough times a portion of their crops to the poor—truly a story of noble work.

Eugippius relates many wonders in his life of S. Severinus. The reader finds how the man who had secretly celebrated [Pg 109] a heathen sacrifice was discovered by S. Severinus, because, while the tapers of the rest of the congregation were lighted miraculously from heaven, his taper alone would not light. He records how the Danube dared not rise above the mark of the cross which S. Severinus had cut upon the posts of a timber chapel; how a poor man, going out to drive the locusts off his little patch of corn instead of staying in the church all day to pray, found the next morning that his crop alone had been eaten, while all the fields around remained untouched. Also he records the well-known story, which has a certain awfulness about it, how S. Severinus watched all night by the bier of the dead priest Silvinus, and ere the morning dawned bade him, in the name of God, speak to his brethren; and how the dead man opened his eyes, and Severinus asked him whether he wished to return to life, and he answered complainingly, "Keep me no longer here; nor cheat me of that perpetual rest which I had already found," and so, closing his eyes once more, was still for ever.

Eugippius shares many amazing stories in his life of St. Severinus. The reader learns how a man who had secretly performed a pagan sacrifice was discovered by St. Severinus because, while the candles of the rest of the congregation were miraculously lit from heaven, his candle wouldn’t light. He notes how the Danube didn’t dare rise above the mark of the cross that St. Severinus had carved on the posts of a wooden chapel; how a poor man, who went out to chase away locusts from his small cornfield instead of staying in the church all day to pray, found the next morning that his crop alone had been eaten while all the surrounding fields were untouched. He also recounts the well-known story, which carries a certain eeriness, of how St. Severinus kept vigil all night by the coffin of the deceased priest Silvinus. Before dawn, he commanded him, in the name of God, to speak to his brothers; and how the dead man opened his eyes, and Severinus asked him if he wanted to return to life, to which he replied, "Don’t keep me here any longer; don’t rob me of the eternal rest I’ve already found," and then, closing his eyes once more, remained still forever.

At last the noble life wore itself out. For two years Severinus had foretold that his end was near; and foretold, too, that the people for whom he had spent himself should go forth in safety, as Israel out of Egypt, and find a refuge in some other Roman province, leaving behind them so utter a solitude, that the barbarians, in their search for the hidden treasures of the civilization which they had exterminated, should dig up the very graves of the dead. Only, when the Lord willed to deliver them, they must carry away his bones with them, as the children of Israel carried the bones of Joseph.

At last, the noble life came to an end. For two years, Severinus had predicted that his time was near; he also predicted that the people he had devoted himself to would leave safely, like Israel out of Egypt, and find a refuge in another Roman province, leaving behind such complete desolation that the barbarians, in their search for the hidden treasures of the civilization they had destroyed, would unearth the very graves of the dead. However, when the Lord chose to deliver them, they had to take his bones with them, just as the children of Israel took the bones of Joseph.

Then Severinus sent for Feva, the Rugian king and Gisa, his cruel wife; and when he had warned them how they must render an account to God for the people committed to their charge, he stretched his hand out to the bosom of the king. "Gisa," he asked, "dost thou love most the soul [Pg 110] within that breast, or gold and silver?" She answered that she loved her husband above all. "Cease then," he said, "to oppress the innocent: lest their affliction be the ruin of your power."

Then Severinus called for Feva, the king of the Rugians, and his harsh wife, Gisa. After warning them that they would have to answer to God for the people under their care, he extended his hand toward the king's chest. "Gisa," he asked, "do you love the soul within this body more, or do you prefer gold and silver?" She replied that she loved her husband above everything. "Then stop oppressing the innocent," he said, "or their suffering will lead to your downfall."

Severinus' presage was strangely fulfilled. Feva had handed over the city of Vienna to his brother Frederick—"poor and impious," says Eugippius. Severinus, who knew him well, sent for him, and warned him that he himself was going to the Lord; and that if, after his death, Frederick dared touch aught of the substance of the poor and the captive, the wrath of God would fall on him. In vain the barbarian pretended indignant innocence; Severinus sent him away with fresh warnings.

Severinus' prophecy came true in an unexpected way. Feva had given the city of Vienna to his brother Frederick—"poor and wicked," says Eugippius. Severinus, who knew him well, called for him and warned him that he was about to go to the Lord; and that if, after his death, Frederick dared to touch anything belonging to the poor and the captive, God's wrath would be upon him. The barbarian feigned anger and innocence, but Severinus sent him away with further warnings.

"Then on the nones of January he was smitten slightly with a pain in the side. And when that had continued for three days, at midnight he bade the brethren come to him." He renewed his talk about the coming emigration, and entreated again that his bones might not be left behind; and having bidden all in turn come near and kiss him, and having received the most Holy Sacrament, he forbade them to weep for him, and commanded them to sing a psalm. They hesitated, weeping. He himself gave out the psalm, "Praise the Lord in His saints, and let all that hath breath praise the Lord;" and so went to rest in the Lord.

"Then on the nones of January, he felt a slight pain in his side. After three days of this, at midnight, he asked the brothers to come to him." He started talking again about the upcoming emigration and pleaded once more not to leave his bones behind. After asking everyone to come close and kiss him, and receiving the most Holy Sacrament, he told them not to cry for him and instructed them to sing a psalm. They hesitated, tearful. He himself began the psalm, "Praise the Lord in His saints, and let all that has breath praise the Lord;" and then he went to rest in the Lord.

No sooner was he dead than Frederick seized on the garments kept in the monastery for the use of the poor, and even commanded his men to carry off the vessels of the altar. Then followed a scene characteristic of the time. The steward sent to do the deed shrank from the crime of sacrilege. A knight, Anicianus by name, went in his stead, and took the vessels of the altar. But his conscience was too strong for him. Trembling and delirium fell on him, and he fled away to a lonely island, and became a hermit there. Frederick, impenitent, swept away all in the monastery, leaving [Pg 111] nought but the bare walls, "which he could not carry over the Danube." But on him, too, vengeance fell. Within a month he was slain by his own nephew. Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii, and carried off Feva and Gisa captive to Rome. And then the long-promised emigration came. Odoacer, whether from mere policy (for he was trying to establish a half-Roman kingdom in Italy,) or for love of S. Severinus himself, sent his brother Onulf to fetch away into Italy the miserable remnant of the Danubian provincials, to be distributed among the wasted and unpeopled farms of Italy. And with them went forth the corpse of S. Severinus, undecayed, though he had been six years dead, and giving forth exceeding fragrance, though (says Eugippius) no embalmer's hand had touched it. In a coffin, which had been long prepared for it, it was laid on a waggon, and went over the Alps into Italy, working (according to Eugippius) the usual miracles on the way, till it found a resting-place near Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus at Misenum, to which Odoacer had sent the last Emperor of Rome to dream his ignoble life away in helpless luxury.

No sooner had he died than Frederick grabbed the clothes kept in the monastery for the poor and even ordered his men to take the altar's vessels. What followed was typical of the time. The steward sent to carry out the act hesitated at the thought of sacrilege. A knight named Anicianus went in his place and took the altar's vessels. But his conscience was too strong. He was overcome with fear and madness, and he fled to a remote island, becoming a hermit there. Frederick, unrepentant, looted everything in the monastery, leaving behind only the bare walls, "which he couldn't carry over the Danube." But vengeance eventually caught up with him. Within a month, he was killed by his own nephew. Then Odoacer attacked the Rugii and captured Feva and Gisa, bringing them to Rome. After that, the long-expected migration occurred. Odoacer, whether for political reasons (as he was trying to establish a semi-Roman kingdom in Italy) or out of affection for St. Severinus himself, sent his brother Onulf to bring the unfortunate remnants of the Danubian provincials to Italy, to be settled among the devastated and depopulated farmlands. Along with them went the incorrupt remains of St. Severinus, still fresh even after six years, emitting a strong fragrance, although (Eugippius says) no embalmers had touched it. It was placed in a coffin that had been prepared for it and loaded onto a wagon, traveling over the Alps into Italy, performing (according to Eugippius) the usual miracles along the way, until it reached its resting place near Naples, in that very villa of Lucullus at Misenum, where Odoacer had sent the last Emperor of Rome to live out his life in idle luxury.

So ends this tragic story. Of its truth there can be no doubt. M. Ozanam has well said of that death-bed scene between the saint and the barbarian king and queen—"The history of invasions has many a pathetic scene: but I know none more instructive than the dying agony of that old Roman expiring between two barbarians, and less touched with the ruin of the empire, than with the peril of their souls."[35] But even more instructive, and more tragic also, is the strange coincidence that the wonder-working corpse of the starved and bare-footed hermit should rest beside the last Emperor of Rome. It is the symbol of a new era. The kings of this world have been judged and cast out. The empire of the flesh is to perish, and the empire of the spirit to conquer thenceforth for evermore.

So ends this tragic story. There's no doubt about its truth. M. Ozanam has rightly remarked on that death-bed scene between the saint and the barbarian king and queen—"The history of invasions has many heartbreaking moments: but I know none more enlightening than the dying agony of that old Roman expiring between two barbarians, less affected by the downfall of the empire than by the danger to their souls."[35] But even more enlightening, and even more tragic, is the strange coincidence that the miraculous body of the starving, barefooted hermit rests next to the last Emperor of Rome. It symbolizes a new era. The kings of this world have been judged and cast aside. The empire of the flesh is destined to perish, while the empire of the spirit will triumph from now on forever.

Relics, in the church of S. Severino at Naples.

Relics in the church of S. Severino in Naples.

Patron (but not sole Patron) of Austria, Vienna, Bavaria.

Patron (but not the only Patron) of Austria, Vienna, and Bavaria.

B. BALDWIN, M. OF LAON.

(6th cent.)

(6th century)

[German and Gallican Martyrologies. Life by an unknown author.]

[German and Gallican Martyrologies. Biography by an unknown author.]

The Blessed Baldwin, archdeacon of Laon, in the reign of Dagobert, was the son of Basus, a nobleman, and Salaberga, who is numbered among the Saints. His sister's name was Astruda, who is also reckoned a Saint. Baldwin having incurred the enmity of certain evil men, was by them treacherously murdered. The details are not known.

The Blessed Baldwin, archdeacon of Laon, during the reign of Dagobert, was the son of Basus, a nobleman, and Salaberga, who is recognized as a Saint. His sister was named Astruda, who is also considered a Saint. Baldwin, having earned the hostility of some wicked individuals, was treacherously murdered by them. The specifics are unknown.

S. FRODOBERT, AB. OF TROYES.

(7th cent.)

(7th century)

[Gallican and German Martyrologies. S. Frodobert died on Jan. 1st, but his body was translated on Jan. 8th, and on that day, accordingly, his festival is observed at Troyes, and by the Benedictine Order. His life was written by his disciple, Lupellus, and used in the compilation of a later life, by a monk of Moutier la Celle, near Troyes, about 872.]

[Gallican and German Martyrologies. St. Frodobert passed away on January 1st, but his body was transferred on January 8th, which is when his feast day is observed in Troyes and by the Benedictine Order. His life was documented by his disciple, Lupellus, and served as the basis for a later version written by a monk from Moutier la Celle, near Troyes, around 872.]

S. Frodobert, the son of parents of the middle class, from the earliest age was inspired with the love of God, and a wondrous gentleness and child-like simplicity. He is said, as a little boy, to have healed his mother of blindness, as, in a paroxysm of love and compassion for her affliction, he kissed her darkened eyes, and signed them with the cross. At an early age he entered the abbey of Luxeuil, where his singleness of soul and guilelessness exposed him to become [Pg 113] the butt of the more frivolous monks. During the time that he was there, a certain Teudolin, abbot of S. Seguanus, was staying at Luxeuil for the purpose of study, and Frodobert was much with him, being ordered to attend on the wants of the visitor, and obey him implicitly. This Teudolin diversified his labours with playing practical jokes on his gentle assistant; but Frodobert never resented any jest. One day the abbot Teudolin sent Frodobert to another monk, who was also fond of practising jokes on Frodobert, for a pair of compasses, saying that he wanted them for writing. The lay brother took the message without in the least knowing what compasses were. The monk, suspecting that the abbot had sent Frodobert on a fool's errand, put a pair of stones off a hand-mill round his neck, and told him to take them to Teudolin. Frodobert obeyed, but was scarcely able to stagger along the cloister under the weight. On his way, the abbot of Luxeuil, his own superior, met him, and amazed to see the poor brother bowed to earth under this burden, bade him throw down the mill-stones, and tell him whither he was taking them. Frodobert obeyed, and said that the abbot Teudolin had sent him for them, as he wanted them for literary purposes. The superior burst into tears, grieved that the good, simple-minded lay brother should have been thus imposed upon, and hastening to the visitor, and then to the monk who had put the "compasses" about Frodobert's neck, he administered to them such a sharp rebuke, that from that day forward no more practical jokes were played upon him.

S. Frodobert, the son of middle-class parents, was inspired with a love for God from a young age, along with a remarkable gentleness and child-like simplicity. It is said that as a little boy, he healed his mother of blindness by kissing her darkened eyes and signing them with the cross out of love and compassion for her suffering. He entered the abbey of Luxeuil at an early age, where his single-mindedness and innocence made him an easy target for the more frivolous monks. While he was there, a certain Teudolin, the abbot of S. Seguanus, was visiting Luxeuil for studies, and Frodobert was assigned to look after him and follow his orders. Teudolin passed the time by playing practical jokes on his gentle assistant, but Frodobert never took offense at any of them. One day, the abbot sent Frodobert to another monk, who also liked to tease Frodobert, to ask for a pair of compasses, claiming he needed them for writing. The lay brother, completely unaware of what compasses were, suspected that the abbot had sent Frodobert on a fool's errand. He instead placed a pair of stones from a hand mill around Frodobert's neck and told him to take them to Teudolin. Frodobert complied but struggled to move under the heavy load. On his way, he encountered the abbot of Luxeuil, his superior, who was shocked to see the poor brother bent over by the weight. He ordered Frodobert to drop the millstones and explain where he was taking them. Frodobert did this and said that the abbot Teudolin had sent him for them for literary purposes. The superior was moved to tears, saddened that the good-hearted lay brother had been misled in this way. He hurried to confront the visitor and the monk who had put the "compasses" around Frodobert's neck, giving them such a stern reprimand that from that day onward, no more practical jokes were played on him.

As years passed, his virtue became more generally known, and the Bishop of Troyes summoned him to be in attendance on himself. The humble monk in vain entreated to be allowed to return to his monastery; the bishop retained him about his person in his palace.

As the years went by, his goodness became more widely recognized, and the Bishop of Troyes called him to be with him. The modest monk tried in vain to ask to return to his monastery, but the bishop kept him close in his palace.

As he was unable to return to the quiet of his cloister, [Pg 114] Frodobert withdrew as much as possible from the world in which he moved, into the calm of his own heart, and practised great abstinence in the midst of the abundance wherewith the bishop's table was supplied. Living outside his cloister, he kept its rules, and in Lent he never ate anything till after sunset. Those who were less strict in their living, sneered at his self-denial, and told the bishop that Frodobert kept a supply of victuals in his bedroom, and ate privily. To prove him, the prelate gave him a chamber in the church tower, and burst in upon him at all unseasonable moments, but was never able to detect the slightest proof of the charge being well founded. He, therefore, regretted his mistrust, and restored the monk to his room in the palace.

As he couldn’t return to the peace of his monastery, [Pg 114] Frodobert distanced himself as much as possible from the world around him, finding calm in his own heart, and practiced strict self-discipline despite the plenty offered at the bishop's table. Living outside his cloister, he followed its rules, and during Lent, he didn’t eat anything until after sunset. Those who lived less strictly mocked his self-control and told the bishop that Frodobert kept a stash of food in his room and ate in secret. To test him, the bishop gave him a room in the church tower and barged in at all sorts of inappropriate times, but never found any evidence to support the accusations. He thus regretted his lack of trust and returned the monk to his room in the palace.

Frodobert was given at last, by Clovis II., some marshy land near Troyes, and on this he built a monastery, which he called La Celle, which was soon filled with numerous monks, and became famous for the learned men it educated. Here S. Frodobert spent many years. He passed his declining years in building a church to S. Peter, and when the church was completed, his strength failed, and he knew that he had not many days to live. His great desire was to see it consecrated on the feast of the Nativity, and he sent two of his monks to the bishop to beseech him to dedicate his new church that day. But the duties of Christmas, in his Cathedral, rendered it impossible for the prelate to grant this request. Frodobert received the refusal with many tears, but lifting his eyes and hands to heaven, he prayed, and God prolonged his days, so that he survived to see his church consecrated on the Octave of the Nativity, Jan. 1st; and when the ceremony was over, he resigned his soul into the hands of God. The body was translated, some years after, on the 8th January. The weather had been wet, and the marshes were under water, so that the abbot and monks [Pg 115] were in trouble, because their house was surrounded with the flood, and it would be difficult for the bishop and clergy of Troyes to attend the ceremony of the translation. "Grant," said the abbot, "that the blessed Frodobert may obtain for us a sharp frost, or we shall have no one here tomorrow." This was said on the eve of the projected translation. That night, so hard a frost set in, that by morning the whole surface of the water was frozen like a stone, and the bishop, clergy, and faithful of Troyes, came to the monastery over the ice.

Frodobert was finally given some marshy land near Troyes by Clovis II., and he built a monastery there, which he named La Celle. It quickly became home to many monks and gained a reputation for the scholars it raised. Frodobert spent many years here, dedicating his later life to constructing a church in honor of St. Peter. As the church neared completion, his health declined, and he realized he didn't have long to live. He desperately wanted to see it consecrated on Christmas, so he sent two of his monks to ask the bishop to dedicate it on that day. However, the bishop's obligations in his Cathedral made it impossible for him to fulfill this request. Frodobert accepted the refusal with many tears, but lifting his eyes and hands to heaven, he prayed, and God extended his life, allowing him to witness the church's consecration on the Octave of the Nativity, January 1st. After the ceremony, he surrendered his soul to God. Some years later, on January 8th, his body was moved. The weather had been rainy, and the marshes were flooded, creating difficulties for the abbot and monks as their house was surrounded by water, making it hard for the bishop and clergy from Troyes to attend the transfer ceremony. "Please," said the abbot, "let blessed Frodobert help us with a hard frost, or else we won't have anyone here tomorrow." This was said on the eve of the planned transfer. That night, a severe frost set in, and by morning, the entire surface of the water was frozen solid, allowing the bishop, the clergy, and the faithful from Troyes to walk to the monastery across the ice.

S. GUDULA, V.

(about 712.)

(about 712.)

[Gallo-Belgian and Cologne Martyrologies. Two lives of S. Gudula exist, besides notices of her in the lives of other members of the family of saints to which she belonged. One life, by a certain Hubert, was compiled after 1047, the other is anonymous, given by Surius. That of Hubert is an amplification of an older life, written in simple and rude style. He did not apparently add anything to the history, except the account of the various translations of her relics, up to his time; but he re-wrote the life in more pedantic and florid style.]

[Gallo-Belgian and Cologne Martyrologies. There are two stories of St. Gudula's life, along with references to her in the biographies of other saints from her family. One story, written by a person named Hubert, was created after 1047, while the other is anonymous and provided by Surius. Hubert's version builds on an older account, written in a simple and direct style. It seems that he didn’t add anything new to the story except for details about the various relocations of her relics up to his time; however, he rewrote the life in a more elaborate and pretentious style.]

The date of the birth of this holy virgin is uncertain. During the reign of King Dagobert, or of his son Sigebert, there lived in Brabant a count named Witgere. His wife Amalberga, who is said to have been the sister of Pepin of Landen, presented him with many children; Rainilda, Pharaildis, and Emebert, who occupied the episcopal throne of Cambrai, and was afterwards elevated to the ranks of the blessed. Amalberga was again pregnant, and an angel announced to her, in a dream, that the child that should be born to her, would be a model of sanctity. A few days after, S. Gudula was born, and her relative, S. Gertrude, was [Pg 116] her sponsor, and took charge of her education.

The exact date of the birth of this holy virgin is unclear. During the rule of King Dagobert, or his son Sigebert, there lived in Brabant a count named Witgere. His wife Amalberga, who is said to have been the sister of Pepin of Landen, gave him many children: Rainilda, Pharaildis, and Emebert, who became the bishop of Cambrai and was later recognized as blessed. Amalberga was pregnant again, and an angel told her in a dream that the child she would have would set an example of holiness. A few days later, S. Gudula was born, and her relative, S. Gertrude, was her sponsor and took care of her upbringing.

When Gudula was still a child, she longed to fly the world. She and her sister Rainilda betook themselves to Lobbes, and asked to be admitted into the monastery. But as women were not permitted to invade its precincts, their request was denied. After waiting three days at the gates, Gudula turned away sorrowful, but her sister Rainilda, more persevering, remained undeterred by repeated refusals, till, overcoming by her persistency, she was allowed to live under the rule of the monastery. Gudula returned to her parents; but living at home, she lived a recluse. In those wild times of civil war and general violence, it is not surprising to see gentle spirits flutter like doves to the convent gates, as to an ark of refuge, from the storms raging without, which they were so powerless to withstand.

When Gudula was a child, she dreamed of exploring the world. She and her sister Rainilda went to Lobbes and requested to join the monastery. But since women weren't allowed to enter its grounds, their request was turned down. After waiting three days at the gates, Gudula left feeling sad, but her sister Rainilda, more determined, didn’t give up despite being denied multiple times, and eventually, through her persistence, she was allowed to live according to the monastery’s rules. Gudula went back to her parents; however, living at home, she became a recluse. In those chaotic times of civil war and widespread violence, it’s not surprising to see gentle souls flock to the convent gates, seeking refuge from the storms outside that they felt helpless against.

About two miles from her parents' castle was a little village named Moorsel, where was an oratory dedicated to the Saviour; thither went S. Gudula every morning at cock-crow. And now follows an incident similar to that related of S. Genoveva. One wild night, the Prince of the Power of the air extinguished the light which the servant girl carried before the Saint; and she, in profound darkness, on a barren heath, knew not how to find the path. Gudula knelt down and prayed to God, and the light rekindled in her lantern, so that she went on her way rejoicing.

About two miles from her parents' castle was a small village called Moorsel, where there was a chapel dedicated to the Savior; every morning at dawn, S. Gudula would go there. Now, a similar incident to the one involving S. Genoveva follows. On a stormy night, the Prince of the Power of the air snuffed out the light that the servant girl was carrying before the Saint; and in the complete darkness on a barren heath, she didn’t know how to find the way. Gudula knelt down and prayed to God, and the light in her lantern came back on, allowing her to continue her journey with joy.

At early mass, one frosty morning, the priest, as he turned towards the people, noticed Gudula wrapped in devotion, and her feet were exposed from beneath her gown; he saw with dismay that there were no soles to her shoes, so that though she appeared to be well shod, she in reality walked barefoot. The good priest, pained to think that her tender feet should be chilled by the icy stones of the pavement, as soon as he had unvested, took his warm mittens, and put them under the feet of the young countess; but she [Pg 117] rejected them, much distressed that her act of penance had been discovered. On leaving the church, she met a poor woman, with her crippled dumb son on her back. The boy was bowed double, and was so deformed that he could not feed himself. The Saint looked at the poor mother and then at the unfortunate child, and actuated by a movement of compassion, she took the cripple into her arms, and besought God to pity him. Instantly the stiff joints became supple, and the back was straightened, and the child, feeling himself whole, cried out: "See, mother! see!" Gudula, abashed at the miracle, implored the poor woman to keep what had taken place a secret; but she, full of gratitude, published it abroad. When S. Gudula died, all the people followed her body to the grave. She was buried on the 8th January, 712, according to the general opinion, in a tomb before the door of the oratory of the village of Hamme, near Releghem. On the morrow, a poplar that stood at the foot of her grave was seen, in spite of the season, to have burst into green leaf.[36]

One chilly morning during early mass, the priest, as he turned to face the congregation, noticed Gudula deeply engrossed in prayer, with her feet exposed beneath her dress. He was dismayed to see that her shoes had no soles, meaning that although she looked properly shod, she was actually walking barefoot. Concerned about her delicate feet being cold on the icy pavement, once he finished the service, he took off his warm mittens and placed them under the young countess's feet. However, she rejected them, feeling distressed that her act of penance had been discovered. After leaving the church, she encountered a poor woman carrying her disabled mute son on her back. The boy was hunched over and so deformed that he couldn’t feed himself. Moved with compassion, Gudula lifted the crippled child into her arms and prayed to God for mercy. Suddenly, the child's stiff joints became flexible, his back straightened, and he exclaimed, “Look, mother! look!” Gudula, embarrassed by the miracle, urged the grateful woman to keep what had happened a secret, but she couldn’t help but share the news. When St. Gudula passed away, the entire community followed her body to the grave. She was buried on January 8, 712, as widely believed, in a tomb located just outside the oratory of the village of Hamme, near Releghem. The next day, despite the season, a poplar tree at the foot of her grave was seen to have burst into green leaves.[Pg 117]

The body was afterwards transported to Nivelles, Mons, and Maubeuge, through fear of the Normans; and then was laid in the oratory of Moorsel, which she had loved so well in life. When Charlemagne came to Moorsel, he built there a monastery, richly endowed; but the convent disappeared in the times of anarchy which followed the death of the founder, and the body was finally taken from the robber baron who had appropriated to himself the lands of Moorsel, and brought to Brussels; where, since 1047, a magnificent church has eternalized the memory of the daughter of Witgere. The site of the chapel at Hamme is now a kiln.

The body was later moved to Nivelles, Mons, and Maubeuge out of fear of the Normans, and then it was placed in the oratory of Moorsel, which she had cherished so much in life. When Charlemagne arrived in Moorsel, he built a monastery there with generous support; however, the convent vanished during the chaotic times that followed the founder's death. The body was eventually retrieved from the robber baron who had seized the lands of Moorsel and taken to Brussels, where, since 1047, a magnificent church has honored the memory of the daughter of Witgere. The location of the chapel at Hamme is now a kiln.

Gudula; French, Gudule; Flemish, Goole.

Gudula; French, Gudule; Flemish, Goole.

Relics, at the church of SS. Michel et Gudule, Brussels.

Relics at the Church of St. Michael and St. Gudula, Brussels.

Patroness of Brussels.

Saint of Brussels.

In art, represented with a lantern, and an angel kindling it.

In art, depicted with a lantern, and an angel lighting it.

S. PEGA, V.

(about a.d. 718.)

(around A.D. 718.)

[English Martyrologies. Authorities: Felix of Croyland, Florence of Worcester, Ordericus Vitalis, lib. iv. c. 17.]

[English Martyrologies. Sources: Felix of Croyland, Florence of Worcester, Ordericus Vitalis, book IV, chapter 17.]

S. Pega was the sister of S. Guthlac of Croyland, and though of the royal blood of the Mercian kings, forsook the world and led a retired life in the country, where now stands Peakirk, in Northamptonshire. "There Pega, S. Guthlac's sister, was for a long time a servant of the Lord. After her brother's death, she used all her endeavours to wear out her life for the love of Christ, by still severer austerities. She, therefore, undertook a pilgrimage to Rome, to pray at the threshold of the holy Apostles, for herself and her kinsfolk, and she there triumphantly departed, on the sixth of the ides (8th) of January."

S. Pega was the sister of S. Guthlac of Croyland, and even though she came from the royal lineage of the Mercian kings, she abandoned worldly life and chose to live a secluded life in the countryside, where Peakirk now exists in Northamptonshire. "There, Pega, S. Guthlac's sister, served the Lord for a long time. After her brother's death, she devoted herself to living a life of greater austerity out of love for Christ. Therefore, she undertook a pilgrimage to Rome to pray at the tomb of the holy Apostles, for herself and her family, and she passed away there triumphantly, on the sixth of the ides (8th) of January."

S. Pega, called in Northamptonshire S. Pee, is not to be confounded with S. Bega, or S. Bees, who is commemorated on September 8th.

S. Pega, known as S. Pee in Northamptonshire, should not be confused with S. Bega, or S. Bees, who is remembered on September 8th.

S. WULSIN, B. OF SHERBOURN.

(a.d. 983.)

(A.D. 983.)

[Benedictine Martyrology. In English Martyrologies S. Wulsin was commemorated on Sept. 27th. Mentioned by Matthew of Westminster. His life is given by Capgrave.]

Benedictine Martyrology. In English Martyrologies, S. Wulsin is commemorated on September 27th. He is mentioned by Matthew of Westminster. Capgrave recounts his life.

Matthew of Westminster says (De gestis Pontif. Anglorum, lib. 2):—"Dunstan, the archbishop, when he was [Pg 119] Bishop of London, made him (Wulsin), abbot of Westminster, a place where formerly Mellitus had raised a church to S. Peter, and here he formed a monastery of twelve monks. Having discharged his office prudently and with sanctity, he was made Bishop of Sherbourn. Then he at once instituted monks in the episcopal seat, and dismissed the secular clerks, lest he should seem to sleep when so many bishops of the time were patrons of diligence. His sanctity, if manifest in life, was more so in death. For when he was nigh the gates of death, the eyes of his understanding being opened, he exclaimed singing, 'I see the heavens opened, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God!' Which song he uttered without faltering, and singing, he died."

Matthew of Westminster says (De gestis Pontif. Anglorum, lib. 2):—"Dunstan, the archbishop, when he was [Pg 119] Bishop of London, appointed Wulsin as abbot of Westminster, a place where Mellitus had previously built a church dedicated to St. Peter, and here he established a monastery with twelve monks. After carrying out his duties wisely and with holiness, he became Bishop of Sherbourne. Then he immediately set up monks in the bishopric and sent away the secular clerks, so he wouldn't appear idle while many bishops of the time were dedicated to hard work. His holiness, evident in life, was even more so in death. For when he was close to death, with his spiritual eyes opened, he exclaimed while singing, 'I see the heavens opened, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God!' He uttered this song without hesitation, and while singing, he died."

S. LAURENCE JUSTINIANI, PATR. OF VENICE.

(a.d. 1455.)

(A.D. 1455.)

S. Laurence Justiniani died on Jan. 8th. He was beatified by Clement VII., in the year 1524, and was canonized in 1698 by Alexander VIII. The 5th Sept., the day of his consecration as bishop, is generally observed in his honour, instead of Jan. 8th, and to that day we refer our readers for his life.

S. Laurence Justiniani died on January 8th. He was beatified by Clement VII in 1524 and canonized in 1698 by Alexander VIII. September 5th, the day he was consecrated as bishop, is typically honored in his memory instead of January 8th, and we direct our readers to that day for more about his life.

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FOOTNOTES:

[34] "The Hermits," by the Rev. C. Kingsley. Macmillan, 1869, pp. 224, 239.

[34] "The Hermits," by Rev. C. Kingsley. Macmillan, 1869, pp. 224, 239.

[35] La Civilisation Chretienne chez les Francs. Paris, 1861, p. 41.

[35] Christian Civilization among the Franks. Paris, 1861, p. 41.

[36] So related in one of the lives. The other exaggerates the incident, and says that in the night a poplar tree sprang up.

[36] It's mentioned in one version of the story. The other version blows the incident out of proportion, claiming that during the night a poplar tree suddenly grew.


January 9.

S. Marciana, V. M., in Africa, circ. a.d. 300.
SS. Julian, Basilissa, Celsus, and Companions, MM, in Egypt, circ. a.d. 310.
S. Peter, B. of Sebaste, circ. a.d. 387.
S. Marcellinus, B. of Ancona, circ. a.d. 566.
S. Fillan, Ab., in Scotland, 8th cent.
S. Adrian, Ab., at Canterbury, a.d. 709.
S. Brithwald, Abp. of Canterbury, a.d. 731.

St. Marciana, Virgin Martyr, in Africa, around A.D. 300.
St. Julian, Basilissa, Celsus, and Their Companions, Martyrs, in Egypt, around A.D. 310.
St. Peter, Bishop of Sebaste, around A.D. 387.
St. Marcellinus, Bishop of Ancona, around A.D. 566.
St. Fillan, Abbot, in Scotland, 8th century
St. Adrian, Abbot, at Canterbury, A.D. 709.
St. Brithwald, Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D. 731.

S. MARCIANA, V. M.

(about 300.)

(about 300 words.)

[Roman, Spanish, German, and other Martyrologies. There is some difficulty as to whether the African S. Marciana and the Saint of the same name, honoured at Toledo, are to be distinguished; but probably they are the same. Some hagiographers have supposed that there were two, because at Toledo, S. Marciana is commemorated on July 12th, but that is in all probability the day of her translation. The Acts of the African Saint and the Toledan hymn to S. Marciana, as well as the account of her in the Mozarabic Breviary, relate the same incidents. None of these are of any great authority.]

[Roman, Spanish, German, and other Martyrologies. There’s some doubt about whether the African Saint Marciana and the Saint with the same name honored in Toledo are actually different people; however, they’re probably the same individual. Some hagiographers believe there were two saints because Saint Marciana is celebrated in Toledo on July 12th, but that’s likely just the date of her translation. The stories of the African Saint and the hymn to Saint Marciana from Toledo, along with her account in the Mozarabic Breviary, describe the same events. None of these sources are considered highly authoritative.]

S.

aint Marciana was a native of Rusuccus, in Mauritania. When at Cæsarea, in Mauritania, she was brought before the governor on the charge of having overthrown a marble statuette of Diana, which stood above a drinking fountain in the public street.

Saint Marciana was originally from Rusuccus in Mauritania. While she was in Cæsarea, Mauritania, she was summoned before the governor because she was accused of knocking over a marble statue of Diana that was perched above a drinking fountain in the public street.

For this outrage on the established religion, she was scourged, and then delivered over to the lust of the gladiators, but was miraculously delivered, for God was as careful to protect the modesty of his servant, as was she to proclaim the honour of His name.

For this offense against the established religion, she was whipped and then handed over to the desires of the gladiators, but she was miraculously rescued, for God was just as intent on protecting the dignity of His servant as she was on honoring His name.

She was exposed in the amphitheatre to a lion, which, however, spared her; but a bull gored her with its horns, and a leopard despatched her.

She was put in the amphitheater to face a lion, which, however, spared her; but a bull gored her with its horns, and a leopard killed her.

Patroness of Tortosa, in Spain.

Patron saint of Tortosa, Spain.

SS. JULIAN, BASILISSA, CELSUS, AND COMPANIONS, MM.

(about 310.)

(about 310.)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. Authority:—The Acts of these martyrs. They are referred to by S. Eulogius, the martyr, who flourished about a.d. 850. They have been inserted by Metaphrastes in his collection of the lives of the Saints, in Greek. S. Aldhelm of Sherbourne, wrote a panegyric on these Saints, in Anglo-Saxon, in 700; and S. Venantius Fortunatus wrote a hymn in honour of them in 620. The Acts purport to have been written by an eye-witness of the martyrdom, for he says:—"We write the Acts of the Saints from what we saw with our eyes, wherefore we hope to receive some little share in future blessedness." The writer survived to the time of Constantine the Great, for he speaks of churches erected to the memory of these martyrs. Nevertheless, the Acts cannot be regarded as genuine. They are nothing but a religious romance, possibly founded on fact. Such religious romances were common in the 5th cent., written to supply Christians with wholesome reading in place of the sensual fictions of Heliodorus, Achilles, Tatius, &c. As there are no less than thirty-six Julians in the Roman Martyrology, and of these seven are commemorated in January, there is great liability to confusion. S. Julian seems to have suffered on the 6th January; but on account of the concurrence of the Epiphany, his memorial was transferred to different days in different dioceses, and this again has proved an element of confusion.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. Authority:—The Acts of these martyrs. They are mentioned by St. Eulogius, the martyr, who lived around A.D. 850. Metaphrastes included them in his collection of the lives of the Saints in Greek. St. Aldhelm of Sherbourne wrote a tribute to these Saints in Anglo-Saxon in 700; and St. Venantius Fortunatus composed a hymn in their honor in 620. The Acts claim to have been written by an eyewitness of the martyrdom, who states:—"We write the Acts of the Saints from what we saw with our own eyes, which is why we hope to receive a share in future blessedness." The author lived during the time of Constantine the Great, as he mentions churches built in memory of these martyrs. However, the Acts cannot be considered authentic. They are simply a religious narrative, possibly based on true events. Such religious stories were common in the 5th century, created to provide Christians with better reading material compared to the sensual tales of Heliodorus, Achilles, Tatius, etc. There are as many as thirty-six Julians in the Roman Martyrology, and seven of these are commemorated in January, which leads to considerable confusion. St. Julian seems to have been martyred on January 6th; however, due to the overlap with the Epiphany, his feast was moved to different days in various dioceses, which has added to the confusion.]

S. Julian was born at Antinoe, in Egypt, of noble parents. The love of God, and God alone, filled his heart from earliest childhood. At the age of eighteen his parents required him to marry. This troubled him much, for he had read the saying of S. Paul, "He that is unmarried careth for the things that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord: but he that is married careth for the things that are of the world, how he may please his wife." 1 Cor. vii. 32, 33. He besought his parents to allow him to defer giving them [Pg 122] a final answer till he had well considered their proposal during seven days. He now fasted, and watched, and prayed, revealing to God the desire of his heart, to keep his body in virginity, and his soul devoted to God alone. At the end of the seven days he saw Christ in a vision, who said to him, "Fear not, Julian, to take thee a wife, and to fulfil the desire of thy parents. As virgins ye shall serve me, and I shall not be separated from you, and as virgins shall ye enter into my kingdom." Then Julian was filled with great joy, and he considered whom he should choose. Now there was one maiden, Basilissa by name, who was well-known to his parents, and with whom he had been acquainted from childhood, and whom he loved for her whiteness of soul. Therefore he told his father that he consented to marry Basilissa. And she, on her side, was glad to be the wife of Julian, but her timid soul shrank from the cares and responsibilities of marriage, for she was as yet young and fresh to the world.

S. Julian was born in Antinoe, Egypt, to noble parents. From a young age, his heart was filled with love for God above all else. When he turned eighteen, his parents insisted that he get married. This troubled him greatly, as he had read the words of S. Paul, "An unmarried person cares for the things of the Lord, how to please the Lord; but a married person cares for the things of the world, how to please their spouse." 1 Cor. vii. 32, 33. He begged his parents to let him take seven days to think about their proposal before giving them a final answer. During this time, he fasted, prayed, and shared with God his desire to keep his body pure and his soul devoted solely to Him. After seven days, he had a vision of Christ, who said, "Do not be afraid, Julian, to take a wife and fulfill your parents' wishes. As virgins, you will serve me, and I will not be separated from you; as virgins, you will enter my kingdom." Julian felt immense joy and contemplated whom to choose. There was a girl named Basilissa, who was familiar to his parents, whom he had known since childhood, and he loved her for her pure spirit. So, he told his father that he agreed to marry Basilissa. She was happy to become Julian's wife, but her timid nature made her hesitant about the responsibilities of marriage, as she was still young and inexperienced in the world.

The marriage took place with all the boisterous merriment and display, usual then as now; and evening approaching, the young bride was led by the maidens, who were her fellows, to the nuptial chamber. Now when Julian entered, there came an odour in the apartment, as of lilies and roses, though the season was mid-winter, and an awe fell on their young hearts. And they put their hands together, and promised to serve God together in purity and fervour, with singleness of heart all their days. Then they were aware of One present in the room, and kneeling down, they fell prostrate, and besought Him to accomplish the good work He had begun in them. And when they looked up, the chamber was full of light, and they saw Jesus and Mary, and an innumerable company of virgin Saints. Then the Lord said, "Thou hast conquered, O Julian, thou [Pg 123] hast conquered!" And the Blessed Virgin said, "Blessed art thou, Basilissa, who hast thus sought with single heart the glory that is eternal."

The wedding was filled with lively celebrations and displays, just like it is today; as evening approached, the young bride was led by her friends to the wedding chamber. When Julian entered, a fragrance filled the room, reminiscent of lilies and roses, even though it was mid-winter, and a sense of awe swept over them. They joined their hands and promised to serve God together in purity and passion, with a united heart for all their days. Then they sensed a presence in the room, and kneeling down, they fell prostrate, asking Him to complete the good work He had started in them. When they looked up, the room was full of light, and they saw Jesus, Mary, and a countless number of virgin Saints. Then the Lord said, "You have conquered, O Julian, you have conquered!" And the Blessed Virgin said, "Blessed are you, Basilissa, who have sought with a pure heart the glory that is eternal."

Then said Jesus, "My soldiers, who have overcome the wiles of the old serpent, rise and behold what is prepared for you!" Thereupon came two clothed in white robes, and girded about the loins with golden zones, having crowns of flowers in their hands, and they raised them from the ground and showed them an open book seven times brighter than silver, inscribed with golden letters, and round about it stood four elders, having vials in their hands of pure gold, from which ascended diverse odours. And one, answering, said, "In these four vials your perfection is contained. For out of these daily ascends an odour of sweet fragrance before the Lord. Therefore, blessed are ye, because ye have rejected the unsatisfying pleasures of this world to strive after those which are eternal, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive."

Then Jesus said, "My followers, who have triumphed over the tricks of the old serpent, rise and see what’s in store for you!" At that moment, two figures appeared dressed in white robes, with golden belts around their waists, holding crowns of flowers in their hands. They lifted them up from the ground and showed them an open book that shone seven times brighter than silver, written in golden letters. Surrounding it stood four elders holding pure gold vials from which various scents arose. One of them spoke up, saying, "In these four vials, your perfection is found. For from these, a sweet fragrance rises daily before the Lord. Therefore, you are blessed because you have turned away from the fleeting pleasures of this world to pursue those that are eternal, which eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man to imagine."

Then Julian looked, and beheld his name, and the name of his wife, Basilissa, written in the book. And the elder said, "In that book are written the chaste and the sober, the truthful and the merciful, the humble and gentle, those whose love is unfeigned, bearing adversities, patient in tribulation, and those who, for the love of Jesus Christ, have given up father and mother, and wife and children, and lands, for his sake, lest they should impede the progress of their souls to perfection, and they who have not hesitated to shed their blood for his name, in the number of whom you also have merited to be written."

Then Julian looked and saw his name and the name of his wife, Basilissa, written in the book. The elder said, “In that book are written the pure and the sober, the honest and the compassionate, the humble and gentle, those whose love is genuine, enduring hardships, patient in trouble, and those who, for the love of Jesus Christ, have given up their fathers and mothers, wives and children, and lands, to avoid anything that might hold back their souls from perfection. They are also those who have not hesitated to shed their blood for his name, among whom you also deserve to be written.”

Then the vision passed. But Julian and Basilissa spent the night in prayer, and singing joyful praises to the Lord.

Then the vision faded. But Julian and Basilissa spent the night in prayer, singing joyful praises to the Lord.

And when his parents were dead, Julian divided his house [Pg 124] and made it into a hospital, and all his substance he spent in relieving the necessities of the sick and suffering. He ruled over the portion devoted to the men, and Basilissa, his wife, at the head of a number of devout virgins, governed the women's department.

And after his parents died, Julian turned his house into a hospital and spent all his wealth on helping those who were sick and suffering. He oversaw the part for men, while his wife Basilissa managed the women's section with a group of devoted virgins.

Many men placed themselves under the guidance of S. Julian, and assisted him in his works of charity, and laboured for the advancement of God's glory, and the salvation of their own souls. It is from the circumstance of S. Julian having been the first to establish a hospital for the sick, that he has been called by distinction Julian the Hospitaller.

Many men followed S. Julian's guidance, helping him with his charitable works and working towards God's glory and their own salvation. Because S. Julian was the first to establish a hospital for the sick, he is notably referred to as Julian the Hospitaller.

After many years, Basilissa died in peace; her husband Julian survived her. In the persecution of Diocletian he was seized and subjected to cruel tortures. The governor, Marcian, ordered him to be dragged, laden with chains, and covered with wounds, about the city. As the martyr passed the school where Celsus, the son of the governor, was being instructed, the boys turned out into the street to see the soldier of Christ go by. Then suddenly the lad exclaimed, "I see angels accompanying, and extending a glorious crown to him. I believe, I believe in the God of the Christians!" And throwing away his books, he fell at the feet of Julian, and kissed his wounds. When the father heard this, he was filled with ungovernable fury, and believed that the Saint had bewitched the boy; he ordered them both to be cast into the lowest dungeon, a loathsome place, where the corrupting carcases of malefactors lay, devoured by maggots. But God filled this hideous pit with light, and transformed the stench into fragrant odours, so that the soldiers who kept the prison were filled with wonder, and believed. That same night, a priest, Antony, who lived with seven little boys, orphans committed to his care by their parents, summoned by God, came with these seven [Pg 125] children to the prison. An angel went before them, and at his touch the gates flew open. Then Antony, the priest, baptized Celsus and the believing soldiers.

After many years, Basilissa died peacefully; her husband Julian outlived her. During Diocletian's persecution, he was captured and subjected to brutal torture. The governor, Marcian, ordered him to be dragged through the city in chains and covered in wounds. As the martyr passed the school where Celsus, the governor's son, was being taught, the boys rushed into the street to see the soldier of Christ walk by. Then suddenly, the boy exclaimed, "I see angels with him, giving him a glorious crown. I believe, I believe in the God of the Christians!" Tossing aside his books, he fell at Julian's feet and kissed his wounds. When the father heard this, he was filled with uncontrollable rage, believing that the Saint had cast a spell on the boy; he ordered both of them to be thrown into the deepest dungeon, a disgusting place where the rotting bodies of criminals lay, eaten by maggots. But God filled that horrible pit with light and turned the stench into sweet fragrances, so that the soldiers guarding the prison were amazed and came to believe. That same night, a priest named Antony, who lived with seven little boys—orphans entrusted to his care by their parents—was called by God and came to the prison with these seven children. An angel went before them, and with a mere touch, the gates swung open. Then Antony, the priest, baptized Celsus and the believing soldiers.

On the morrow the governor, supposing that the night in the pit had cured his son, sent him to his mother, and the boy, having related to her in order all he had seen and heard, she believed with her whole heart, and was baptized by the priest.

On the next day, the governor, thinking that the night in the pit had healed his son, sent him to his mother. The boy told her everything he had seen and heard, and she believed him completely and was baptized by the priest.

The governor, Marcian, ordered all these converts to death. The soldiers were executed with the sword, the seven boys were cast into the fire, the rest were tortured to death.

The governor, Marcian, ordered all these converts to be killed. The soldiers were executed by sword, the seven boys were thrown into the fire, and the rest were tortured to death.

Relics, at Morigny, near Etampes, and in the church of S. Basilissa, at Paris.

Relics, at Morigny, near Étampes, and in the church of St. Basilissa, in Paris.

Patron of hospitals.

Hospital supporter.

In art, S. Julian and S. Basilissa are represented holding the same lily stalk, or looking on the Book of Life wherein their names are written.

In art, St. Julian and St. Basilissa are shown holding the same lily stalk or looking at the Book of Life where their names are written.

S. PETER, B. OF SEBASTE.

(about 387.)

(about 387.)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The life of S. Peter occurs in that of his sister, S. Macrina, written by his brother, S. Gregory of Nyssa. He is also spoken of by Socrates, Theodoret, and Philostorgius.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The life of St. Peter is part of the story of his sister, St. Macrina, written by his brother, St. Gregory of Nyssa. He is also mentioned by Socrates, Theodoret, and Philostorgius.]

The family of which S. Peter was descended was very ancient and illustrious, as we are informed by S. Gregory Nazianzen. It has become famous for its saints, for three brothers were at the same time eminently holy bishops, S. Basil, S. Gregory of Nyssa, and S. Peter of Sebaste; and their elder sister, S. Macrina, was the spiritual mother of many saints. Their father and mother, S. Basil the elder, and S. Emilia, were banished for their faith in the reign of [Pg 126] Galerius Maximian, and fled into the deserts of Pontus; they are commemorated in the Roman martyrology on May 30th. The grandmother of S. Peter was S. Macrina the elder, who had been instructed in the way of salvation by S. Gregory the Wonder-worker. S. Peter of Sebaste, was the youngest of ten children; he lost his father whilst still an infant, and was therefore brought up by his mother and sister. When the aged Emilia was dying, she drew her two children—the only two who were present—to her, and taking their hands, she looked up to heaven, and having prayed God to protect, govern, and sanctify her absent children, she said, "To Thee, O Lord, I dedicate the first-fruits; and the tenth of my womb. This, my first-born, Macrina, I give thee as my first-fruits; and this, my tenth child, Peter, I give thee as my tithe. They are thine by law, and thine they are by my free gift. Hallow, I pray thee, this my first-born daughter, and this my tenth child, and son." And thus blessing them, she expired, says S. Gregory Nyssen. S. Emilia had founded two monasteries, one for men, the other for women; the former she put under the direction of her son Basil, the latter under that of her daughter Macrina. Peter, whose thoughts where wholly bent on cultivating the seeds of piety sown in his heart, retired into the house governed by his brother, situated on the bank of the river Iris; and when S. Basil was obliged to quit that post in 362, he left the abbacy in the hands of S. Peter, who discharged this office for several years with great prudence and virtue. Soon after S. Basil was made Bishop of Cæsarea, in Cappadocia, in 370, he promoted his brother Peter to the priesthood. His brother, S. Basil, died on Jan. 1st, a.d. 379, and Eustathius, Bishop of Sebaste, an Arian and a furious persecutor of S. Basil, died soon after. S. Peter was consecrated in his room, in 380, to root out the Arian heresy in that diocese, where it had taken deep [Pg 127] hold. In 381, he attended the general council held at Constantinople, and joined in the condemnation of the Macedonian heresy. His death happened in summer, about the year 387, and his brother, S. Gregory of Nyssa, mentions that his memory was honoured at Sebaste by an anniversary solemnity. "Peter," says Nicephorus (lib. ii. c. 44), "who sprang from the same parents as Basil, was not so well-read in profane literature as his brother, but he was not his inferior in the splendour of his virtue."

The family that S. Peter came from was very old and distinguished, as noted by S. Gregory Nazianzen. It became well-known for its saints, as three brothers—S. Basil, S. Gregory of Nyssa, and S. Peter of Sebaste—were all exceptionally holy bishops at the same time; their older sister, S. Macrina, was the spiritual mother of many saints. Their parents, S. Basil the Elder and S. Emilia, were exiled for their faith during the reign of [Pg 126] Galerius Maximian and fled to the deserts of Pontus; they are remembered in the Roman martyrology on May 30th. S. Peter's grandmother was S. Macrina the Elder, who learned about salvation from S. Gregory the Wonder-worker. S. Peter of Sebaste was the youngest of ten children; he lost his father when he was just a baby and was raised by his mother and sister. When the elderly Emilia was dying, she called her two children—the only ones present—to her, took their hands, looked up to heaven, and prayed to God to protect, guide, and sanctify her other children. She said, "To You, O Lord, I dedicate the first-fruits; and the tenth of my womb. This, my first-born, Macrina, I give to you as my first-fruits; and this, my tenth child, Peter, I give to you as my tithe. They are legally yours, and they belong to you by my free gift. I pray you, bless this my first-born daughter and this my tenth child, my son." And with that blessing, she passed away, according to S. Gregory Nyssen. S. Emilia had founded two monasteries, one for men and the other for women; she placed the men's monastery under her son Basil's leadership and the women's one under her daughter Macrina. Peter, focused entirely on nurturing the seeds of piety planted in his heart, retreated to the house governed by his brother, along the banks of the river Iris; when S. Basil had to leave that position in 362, he entrusted the abbacy to S. Peter, who managed this role for several years with great wisdom and virtue. Soon after S. Basil became Bishop of Cæsarea in Cappadocia in 370, he promoted his brother Peter to the priesthood. His brother, S. Basil, passed away on January 1st, AD 379, and Eustathius, Bishop of Sebaste, an Arian and a fierce persecutor of S. Basil, died shortly after. S. Peter was consecrated to replace him in 380, tasked with rooting out the Arian heresy in that diocese, where it had become deeply entrenched. In 381, he attended the general council held in Constantinople, where he supported the condemnation of the Macedonian heresy. He died in the summer, around the year 387, and his brother S. Gregory of Nyssa noted that his memory was celebrated in Sebaste with an annual observance. "Peter," says Nicephorus (lib. ii. c. 44), "who came from the same parents as Basil, wasn't as well-versed in secular literature as his brother, but he was no less impressive in terms of his virtue."

S. FILLAN, AB.

(8th cent.)

(8th century)

[Scottish and Irish Martyrologies. Life in the Aberdeen Breviary.]

[Scottish and Irish Martyrologies. Life in the Aberdeen Breviary.]

S. Fillan, whose name is famous in ancient Scottish and Irish Calendars, was the son of Feriach, a noble, and his saintly wife Kentigerna, daughter of Cualann, king of Leinster. His father ordered him to be thrown into the lake, near his castle, and drowned, when he was shown to him, for he was somewhat unshapely. But, by the ministry of the angels, at the prayer of his mother, he floated ashore. S. Fillan was given by Bishop Ibar to the abbot Munna, to be educated. As he wrote at night in his cell, he held up his left hand, and it shone so brilliantly that he was able to write with the right hand by the light shed by the left hand.

S. Fillan, whose name is well-known in ancient Scottish and Irish calendars, was the son of Feriach, a nobleman, and his saintly wife Kentigerna, the daughter of Cualann, king of Leinster. His father ordered him to be thrown into the lake near his castle and drowned when he was presented to him, because he was somewhat misshapen. However, through the ministry of angels, at the prayer of his mother, he floated ashore. S. Fillan was entrusted by Bishop Ibar to Abbot Munna for his education. As he wrote at night in his cell, he raised his left hand, which shone so brightly that he could write with his right hand by the light from his left hand.

When the abbot Munna died (a.d. 635), S. Fillan was elected to succeed him as head of the monastery of Kilmund in Argyleshire. After some years, he resigned his charge, and retired to his uncle Congan, brother to his mother, in a place called Siracht, a mountainous part of Glendarshy, in Fifeshire, where, with the assistance of seven others, he built a church. He was buried at Straphilline, and his relics [Pg 128] were long preserved there with honour. The Scottish historians attribute to his intercession a memorable victory obtained by King Robert Bruce, in 1314, over the English at Bannockburn. His pastoral staff and bell still exist.

When Abbot Munna died (a.d. 635), S. Fillan was chosen to take over as the head of the monastery of Kilmund in Argyleshire. After a few years, he stepped down from his position and went to stay with his uncle Congan, who was his mother's brother, in a place called Siracht, a mountainous area in Glendarshy, Fifeshire, where he built a church with the help of seven others. He was buried at Straphilline, and his relics were preserved there with great honor for a long time. Scottish historians credit his intercession for a significant victory won by King Robert Bruce in 1314 against the English at Bannockburn. His pastoral staff and bell still exist.

S. ADRIAN, AB. OF CANTERBURY.

(a.d. 709.)

(A.D. 709.)

[Anglican and some of the German Martyrologies. Life in Bede, Eccles. Hist., lib. iv., c. 1, 2; lib. v. c. 20.]

[Anglican and some German Martyrologies. Bede's Ecclesiastical History, book IV, chapters 1 and 2; book V, chapter 20.]

"Deusdedit," says the Venerable Bede, "the sixth Bishop of the church of Canterbury, died on the 14th July, 665. The see then became vacant for some considerable time, until the priest Wighard, a man skilled in ecclesiastical discipline, of the English race, was sent to Rome by King Egbert (of Kent), and Oswy, King of the Northumbrians, with a request that he might be ordained Bishop of the Church of England; sending at the same time presents to the Apostolic Pope, and many vessels of gold and silver. Arriving at Rome, where Vitalian presided at that time over the Apostolic see, and having made known to the aforesaid Pope the occasion of his journey, he was not long after snatched away, with almost all his companions that went with him, by a pestilence which happened at that time.

"Deusdedit," says the Venerable Bede, "the sixth Bishop of the Church of Canterbury, died on July 14, 665. The position remained vacant for quite a while until the priest Wighard, a man skilled in church matters and of English descent, was sent to Rome by King Egbert of Kent and Oswy, King of the Northumbrians, with a request that he be ordained Bishop of the Church of England; they also sent gifts to the Apostolic Pope, including many gold and silver vessels. Upon arriving in Rome, where Vitalian was in charge of the Apostolic see at the time, and after explaining to the Pope the purpose of his trip, he was shortly thereafter taken away, along with almost all of his companions who had traveled with him, by a plague that occurred at that time.

"But the Apostolic Pope, having consulted about that affair, made diligent inquiry for some one to send to the Archbishop of the English Churches. There was then in the Niridian monastery, which is not far from the city of Naples, an abbot called Adrian, by nation an African, well versed in holy writ, experienced in monastic and ecclesiastical discipline, and excellently skilled in both Greek and Latin. The Pope, sending for him, commanded him to accept the bishopric, and repair to Britain; he [Pg 129] answered that he was unworthy of so great a dignity, but said he would name another, whose learning and age were fitter for the ecclesiastical office. And having proposed to the Pope a certain monk, belonging to a neighbouring monastery of virgins, whose name was Andrew, he was by all that knew him, judged worthy of a bishopric; but bodily infirmity prevented his being advanced to the episcopal office. Then again Adrian was pressed to accept the bishopric, but he desired a respite for a time, to see whether he could find another fit to be ordained bishop.

"But the Apostolic Pope, after discussing the matter, diligently searched for someone to send to the Archbishop of the English Churches. At that time, there was an abbot named Adrian in the Niridian monastery, not far from Naples, who was of African descent, well-versed in scripture, experienced in monastic and church discipline, and highly skilled in both Greek and Latin. The Pope called for him and instructed him to accept the bishopric and go to Britain; he responded that he felt unworthy of such an honor, but suggested another candidate whose learning and age would be more appropriate for the ecclesiastical position. He proposed to the Pope a monk from a nearby monastery of virgins named Andrew, who was deemed worthy of the bishopric by all who knew him; however, physical illness prevented him from being appointed to the episcopal office. The Pope then urged Adrian again to accept the bishopric, but he requested some time to see if he could find someone else suitable to be ordained as bishop."

"There was at that time, in Rome, a monk called Theodore, well-known to Adrian, born at Tarsus, in Cilicia, a man well instructed in worldly and divine literature, as also in Greek and Latin; of known probity of life, and venerable for age, being sixty-six years old. Adrian offered him to the Pope to be ordained bishop, and prevailed; but upon these conditions, that he should conduct him into Britain, because he had already travelled through France twice upon several occasions, and was, therefore, better acquainted with the way, and was, moreover, sufficiently provided with men of his own; as also that, being his fellow labourer in doctrine, he might take special care that Theodore should not, according to the custom of the Greeks, introduce anything contrary to the true faith into the Church where he presided. Theodore, being ordained sub-deacon, waited four months for his hair to grow, that it might be shorn into the shape of a crown; for he had before the tonsure of S. Paul[37] the Apostle, after the manner of the Easterns. He was ordained by Pope Vitalian, in the year of the Lord 668, on Sunday, the 26th of March, and on the 27th of May was sent with Adrian into Britain.

There was a monk named Theodore in Rome at that time, well-known to Adrian. He was born in Tarsus, Cilicia, and was well-versed in both worldly and spiritual literature, as well as fluent in Greek and Latin. He was known for his outstanding character and was respected due to his age, being sixty-six years old. Adrian proposed him to the Pope for ordination as bishop and was successful, but under the condition that he would take Adrian with him to Britain. Adrian had already traveled through France twice before, so he was more familiar with the route and had enough men with him. Also, as his colleague in teaching, he wanted to ensure that Theodore wouldn’t introduce anything contrary to true faith in the Church where he would lead, according to the Greek tradition. After being ordained a sub-deacon, Theodore waited four months for his hair to grow so it could be cut into a crown shape, as he had previously taken the tonsure of St. Paul the Apostle, following Eastern customs. He was ordained by Pope Vitalian in the year 668 on Sunday, March 26, and was sent with Adrian to Britain on May 27.

"They proceeded by sea to Marseilles, and thence by land to Arles, and having delivered to John, Archbishop of that city, Pope Vitalian's letters of recommendation, were by him detained, till Ebroin, the king's mayor of the palace, sent them a pass to go where they pleased. Having received the same, Theodore repaired to Agilbert, Bishop of Paris, and was by him kindly received, and long entertained. But Adrian went first to Emme, and then to Faro, Bishops of Sens and Meaux, and lived with them a considerable time; for the hard winter had obliged them to rest wherever they could. King Egbert, being informed by messengers, that the bishop they had asked of the Roman prelate was in the kingdom of France, sent thither his præfect, Redford, to conduct him; who, being arrived there, with Ebroin's leave, conveyed him to the port of Quentavic (S. Quentin); where, being indisposed, he made some stay, and as soon as he began to recover, sailed over into Britain. But Ebroin detained Adrian, suspecting that he went on some message from the Emperor to the kings of Britain, to the prejudice of the kingdom, of which he at that time took especial care; however, when he found that he really had no such commission, he discharged him, and permitted him to follow Theodore.

They traveled by sea to Marseilles, and then by land to Arles, where they delivered Pope Vitalian’s letters of recommendation to John, the Archbishop of the city. He kept them there until Ebroin, the king's mayor of the palace, sent them a pass to go wherever they wanted. After receiving it, Theodore went to Agilbert, the Bishop of Paris, who welcomed him warmly and entertained him for a long time. Meanwhile, Adrian went first to Emme and then to Faro, the Bishops of Sens and Meaux, and stayed with them for a significant time because the harsh winter forced them to rest wherever they could. King Egbert, hearing from messengers that the bishop they requested from the Roman prelate was in France, sent his prefect, Redford, to bring him back. When Redford arrived there, with Ebroin's permission, he took him to the port of Quentavic (S. Quentin). There, Adrian fell ill and stayed for a while, but as soon as he started to recover, he sailed over to Britain. However, Ebroin kept Adrian back because he suspected he was on some message from the Emperor to the kings of Britain that could harm the kingdom, which he was particularly concerned about at the time. Eventually, when Ebroin found out that Adrian really had no such mission, he let him go and allowed him to join Theodore.

"As soon as he came, he received from him the monastery of S. Peter the Apostle, where the Archbishops of Canterbury are usually buried; for at his departure, the Apostolic Lord had ordered that Theodore should provide for him in his diocese, and give him a suitable place to live in with his followers.

"As soon as he arrived, he was given the monastery of St. Peter the Apostle, which is typically where the Archbishops of Canterbury are buried; because when he was leaving, the Apostolic Lord had instructed that Theodore should make arrangements for him in his diocese and provide him with an appropriate place to stay with his followers."

"Theodore arrived in his church the second year after his consecration, on Sunday, May 27th. Soon after, he visited all the island, wherever the tribes of the Angles inhabited; and everywhere attended and assisted by Adrian, he taught the right rule of life, and the canonical custom of celebrating Easter. This was the first Archbishop whom all the English Church obeyed. And forasmuch as both of [Pg 131] them were well read in both sacred and secular literature, they gathered a crowd of disciples, and there flowed from them daily rivers of knowledge to water the hearts of their hearers; and, together with the books of Holy Writ, they also taught them the arts of ecclesiastical poetry, astronomy, and arithmetic. A testimony of which is, that there are still living at this day some of their scholars, who are as well versed in the Greek and Latin tongues as in their own, in which they were born. Nor were there ever happier times since the English came into Britain; for their kings, being brave men and good Christians, were a terror to all barbarous nations, and the minds of all men were bent upon the joys of the heavenly kingdom of which they had just heard; and all who desired to be instructed in sacred reading had masters at hand to teach them."

Theodore arrived at his church in the second year after his consecration, on Sunday, May 27th. Soon after, he visited all the islands where the tribes of the Angles lived; and everywhere, with Adrian by his side, he taught the proper way of living and the established practice of celebrating Easter. He was the first Archbishop that all of the English Church followed. Since both of them were well-versed in both sacred and secular literature, they gathered a group of followers, and daily shared a wealth of knowledge to enrich the hearts of their listeners. Along with the books of Holy Scripture, they also taught them the arts of church poetry, astronomy, and arithmetic. A testament to this is that there are still some of their students alive today who are just as fluent in Greek and Latin as they are in their native language. There have never been happier times since the English arrived in Britain; their kings, being brave men and good Christians, instilled fear in all barbarous nations, and everyone was focused on the joys of the heavenly kingdom they had just learned about; and those who wanted to be educated in sacred reading had teachers available to guide them.

S. Adrian died a.d. 709, after having spent thirty-nine years in Britain. His tomb was famous for miracles wrought at it.

S. Adrian died A.D. 709, after spending thirty-nine years in Britain. His tomb was well-known for the miracles performed there.

S. BRITHWALD, ABP. OF CANTERBURY.

(a.d. 731.)

(A.D. 731.)

[Bede, lib. v., c. 8, 23. William of Malmesbury: De Gest. Pontificum Anglorum; Roger of Hoveden; Matthew of Westminster, &c. He is called also Bretwald and Berthwald.]

[Bede, book v., chapter 8, 23. William of Malmesbury: On the Deeds of the English Bishops; Roger of Hoveden; Matthew of Westminster, etc. He is also called Bretwald and Berthwald.]

Bede says that after the death of S. Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 690, "Berthwald succeeded, being abbot of the monastery of Reculver, which lies on the north side of the mouth of the river Inlade. He was a man learned in the Scriptures, and well instructed in ecclesiastical and monastic discipline, yet not to be compared with his predecessor. He was chosen Bishop in the year of our [Pg 132] Lord's Incarnation, 692, on the first day of July, Withred and Suebhard being kings of Kent; he was consecrated the next year, on Sunday, the 29th June, by Godwin, Metropolitan Bishop of France, and was enthroned on Sunday, April 31st."

Bede mentions that after the death of S. Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury, in 690, "Berthwald took over, being the abbot of the monastery of Reculver, located on the north side of the mouth of the river Inlade. He was knowledgeable in the Scriptures and well-versed in church and monastic discipline, though he couldn't be compared to his predecessor. He was appointed Bishop in the year of our Lord's Incarnation, 692, on July 1st, with Withred and Suebhard as the kings of Kent; he was consecrated the following year, on Sunday, June 29th, by Godwin, Metropolitan Bishop of France, and was officially installed on Sunday, April 31st."

"In the year of our Lord's Incarnation, 731, Archbishop Berthwald died of old age, on the 9th of January, having held his see thirty-seven years six months and fourteen days."

"In the year of our Lord's Incarnation, 731, Archbishop Berthwald died of old age on January 9th, after serving in his position for thirty-seven years, six months, and fourteen days."

S. Genoveva. S. Genoveva, Jan. 3, p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] This tonsure consisted in shaving the whole head.

[37] This tonsure involved shaving the entire head.


January 10.

S. Nicanor, M., a.d. 76.
SS. Thecla, V., and Justina, Confessors in Sicily, 3rd cent.
S. Marcian, P. C., at Constantinople, circ. a.d. 476.
S. Domitian, B. C., in Armenia, circ. a.d. 600.
S. Agatho, Pope of Rome, a.d. 682.
S. Sethrida, V., Abbess of Brie, in France, 7th cent.
S. William, Ab. and Abp. of Bourges, a.d. 1209.
S. Gonsalvo, P. C., Portugal, a.d. 1259.
B. Christiana, or Oringa, V., in Etruria, a.d. 1310.

St. Nicanor, M., A.D. 76.
St. Thecla, V., and Justina, Confessors in Sicily, 3rd century.
St. Marcian, P. C., in Constantinople, around A.D. 476.
St. Domitian, B. C., in Armenia, around A.D. 600.
St. Agatho, Pope of Rome, A.D. 682.
St. Sethrida, V., Abbess of Brie, in France, 7th century.
St. William, Abbot and Archbishop of Bourges, A.D. 1209.
St. Gonsalvo, P. C., Portugal, A.D. 1259.
B. Christiana, or Oringa, V., in Etruria, A.D. 1310.

S. NICANOR, M.

(a.d. 76.)

(A.D. 76.)

[Roman Martyrology. Commemorated by the Greeks on July 28th and December 28th.]

[Roman Martyrology. Celebrated by the Greeks on July 28 and December 28.]

S.

aint Nicanor, one of the first seven deacons appointed by the Apostles, was a native of Cyprus, to which he returned, that he might preach the Gospel on the dispersion of the Apostles. He was variously tortured and then executed, in the reign of Vespasian, but where is not known.

Saint Nicanor, one of the first seven deacons chosen by the Apostles, was from Cyprus, which he returned to in order to share the Gospel after the Apostles were scattered. He faced various forms of torture and was eventually executed during the reign of Vespasian, though the exact location of his death is unknown.

SS. THECLA, V., AND JUSTINA.

(3rd cent.)

(3rd cent.)

[Authority for the lives of these Saints: the lections in the proper offices for this day in the church of Lentini, in Sicily.]

[Authority for the lives of these Saints: the readings in the proper services for this day in the church of Lentini, Sicily.]

S. Thecla was a noble virgin of Lentini, and daughter of S. Isidore. She buried the bodies of the martyrs with loving reverence. For three years she suffered from paralysis, and could not leave her bed, but was healed by the [Pg 134] prayers of SS. Alphius, Philadelphus, and Cyrinus. When they were in prison for the faith, she visited them and ministered to their necessities, and when they had been slain and cast into a well, she extracted the bodies and buried them. Tertullus, the governor, hearing of this, sent for her, but his sudden death saved her from injury. During the persecution, she concealed Agatho, Bishop of Lipari, in one of her farms; and when the persecution was over, she and her friend Justina spent their fortunes in works of mercy.

S. Thecla was a noble virgin from Lentini and the daughter of S. Isidore. She buried the bodies of the martyrs with deep respect. For three years, she suffered from paralysis and couldn’t leave her bed, but she was healed by the [Pg 134] prayers of SS. Alphius, Philadelphus, and Cyrinus. When they were imprisoned for their faith, she visited them and took care of their needs, and after they were killed and thrown into a well, she retrieved their bodies and buried them. Tertullus, the governor, heard about this and called for her, but his sudden death spared her from harm. During the persecution, she hid Agatho, the Bishop of Lipari, on one of her farms; and when the persecution ended, she and her friend Justina used all their wealth to do acts of kindness.

S. MARCIAN, P.

(about 476.)

((~ 476))

[Honoured in the Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology on the same day. His life, by an anonymous writer, is given by Simeon Metaphrastes.]

[Honored in the Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology on the same day. His life, written by an unknown author, is included by Simeon Metaphrastes.]

S. Marcian was born at Constantinople; he belonged to a noble Roman family, related to that of the Emperor Theodosius. From his childhood he served God in watching, fasting, and prayer. His great compassion for the necessities of the poor made it impossible for him to refuse relief, when he had anything to give away.

S. Marcian was born in Constantinople; he came from a noble Roman family, connected to the family of Emperor Theodosius. Since childhood, he dedicated himself to God through vigilance, fasting, and prayer. His deep compassion for the poor made it impossible for him to deny help whenever he had something to give.

In the reign of the Emperor Marcian, Anatolius, the Archbishop, ordained him priest. His love for the poor manifested itself, not merely in abundant almsgiving, but also in his making their instruction in the truth his favourite pursuit. The severity of his morals was made a handle by those who feared the example of his virtue, as a tacit rebuke of their sloth and avarice, to fasten on him a suspicion of Novatianism; but his meekness and silence triumphed over this, and other slanders.

In the time of Emperor Marcian, Anatolius, the Archbishop, ordained him as a priest. His love for the poor showed itself not just through generous donations but also by making their education in the truth his main focus. His strict morals were used by those who felt threatened by his virtuous example, as a quiet criticism of their laziness and greed, to label him with suspicion of Novatianism; however, his humility and silence overcame this and other accusations.

The patriarch Gennadius conferred on him the dignity of treasurer of the church of Constantinople. S. Marcian [Pg 135] built, or repaired, in a stately manner a great number of churches. The following incident is related of the dedication of the church of S. Anastasia, for which he had obtained a site, and which he had built in spite of numerous impediments. On the day that the church was to be consecrated, he was on his way to attend the ceremony, when he was accosted in the street by a very poor man, whose rags scarce held together, and who implored him, for the love of God, to give him an alms. S. Marcian felt in his bosom, but found he had no money there. The pauper would take no refusal, and the compassionate heart of the treasurer was melted at the aspect of his tatters and emaciation. Quickly he slipped off the tunic he wore under his sacerdotal vestments, handed it to the beggar, and then hurried on to the new church, drawing his alb and chasuble about him, to conceal the deficiency of a nether garment. The church was crowded, the Emperor Leo and the Empress, the senate, and almost the whole city were present. Marcian was bidden celebrate the Holy Sacrifice before all, in the new church he had built. So, full of shame, he began, hoping that the folds of his chasuble would conceal the absence of a tunic. But all saw him as though clothed beneath his sacerdotal vestments with a garment as of pure gold, which flashed as he moved. The patriarch Gennadius was offended, and rebuked him when the liturgy was over, for having worn a private garment, more splendid than his ecclesiastical vesture, and worthy only of an emperor. Marcian fell at his feet, and denied that he had worn any such raiment. Then Gennadius, wroth at his having spoken falsely, as he thought, for he supposed his eyes could not have been deceived, caught him by the vesture, and drew it aside, and behold! Marcian was bare of all other garments save his sacerdotal apparel.

The patriarch Gennadius gave him the honor of being the treasurer of the church of Constantinople. S. Marcian [Pg 135] built or renovated many impressive churches. There's a story about the dedication of the church of S. Anastasia, which he secured a location for and constructed despite facing many obstacles. On the day the church was supposed to be consecrated, he was on his way to the ceremony when he was approached on the street by a very poor man, whose tattered clothes barely held together. The man begged him, for the love of God, to give him some money. S. Marcian felt in his heart but realized he had no money on him. The beggar refused to take no for an answer, and the treasurer's compassionate heart ached at the sight of the man’s rags and malnutrition. Quickly, he took off the tunic he was wearing under his priestly vestments and handed it to the beggar, then rushed on to the new church, wrapping his alb and chasuble around him to cover the lack of a lower garment. The church was packed, with Emperor Leo, the Empress, the senate, and nearly the entire city in attendance. Marcian was asked to celebrate the Holy Sacrifice in front of everyone in the new church he had built. Feeling ashamed, he began, hoping that the folds of his chasuble would hide the lack of a tunic. But everyone saw him as if he were wearing a garment made of pure gold underneath his priestly robes, which shimmered as he moved. The patriarch Gennadius was upset and scolded him after the liturgy for wearing a private garment that was more lavish than his ecclesiastical attire and suitable only for an emperor. Marcian fell at his feet, denying that he had worn any such clothing. Then Gennadius, angry at what he thought was a falsehood since he believed his eyes couldn’t have been mistaken, grabbed his robe and pulled it aside, and behold! Marcian had nothing on but his priestly garments.

S. Marcian built also the church of S. Irene, another of [Pg 136] S. Isidore, and a baptistery of magnificent appearance, surrounded with five porches, like that at Jerusalem. "But this one," says the chronicler, "was greater than that by the sheep market, for here greater miracles were wrought than there. To that, an angel descended on one day in the year, and healed but one at a time; at this, whenever a servant of the Lord ministers, Christ himself is present. The healing, moreover, is not but once a year, but daily, and not of bodies only, but of souls as well."

S. Marcian also built the church of S. Irene, another of [Pg 136] S. Isidore, and a beautifully designed baptistery, surrounded by five porches, similar to the one in Jerusalem. "But this one," the chronicler notes, "was bigger than that by the sheep market, for more significant miracles happened here than there. At that site, an angel came down once a year and healed only one person at a time; here, whenever a servant of the Lord performs ministry, Christ himself is present. The healing occurs not just once a year, but daily, and it involves not just bodies, but souls as well."

S. Marcian's great compassion extended to women of bad character, and despising the slander and gossip which he might occasion, by visiting them in their houses, setting only before his eyes the blessedness of plucking these brands from the burning, he often sought them out in haunts of crime; and if they had taken up evil courses through poverty only, he found for them honest occupations, and by his exhortations and tears, and his overflowing charity, he convinced and persuaded many of these unhappy women, so that they came openly and did penance, and some he sent on pilgrimages to Jerusalem, and some went into solitude, and recompensed for the past by self-mortification in the desert.

S. Marcian showed great compassion towards women with flawed reputations, ignoring the slander and gossip that his visits to their homes might provoke. Focused solely on the good he could do by helping them, he often sought them out in places associated with wrongdoing. When he discovered that their poor choices stemmed from poverty, he provided them with honest job opportunities. Through his encouragement, tears, and abundant generosity, he managed to convince many of these troubled women to come forward, do penance, and some he sent on pilgrimages to Jerusalem, while others chose to retreat into solitude and atone for their past through self-discipline in the desert.

S. DOMITIAN, B. C.

(about 600.)

(

[Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology. His life in the Menæa, and fuller by Theophylact Simocatta. He is mentioned also by Evagrius, his contemporary. A letter to him from S. Gregory the Pope, is extant, praising his learning, prudence and zeal.]

[Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology. His life is summarized in the Menæa, and there’s more detailed information by Theophylact Simocatta. He is also mentioned by Evagrius, who was his contemporary. A letter from St. Gregory the Pope to him still exists, praising his knowledge, wisdom, and enthusiasm.]

S. Domitian was the son of pious parents, Theodore and Eudoxia by name. He was an intimate friend, if not, as Evagrius says, "a kinsman of the Emperor Maurice." He was married for a few years, but his wife dying, he devoted himself to the services of the Church, and was consecrated [Pg 137] Bishop of Melitene, in Armenia, at the age of thirty.

S. Domitian was the son of devoted parents, Theodore and Eudoxia. He was a close friend, if not, as Evagrius mentions, "a relative of Emperor Maurice." He was married for a few years, but after his wife passed away, he dedicated himself to serving the Church and was ordained Bishop of Melitene, in Armenia, at the age of thirty.

On the murder of Hormisdas, the Persian King, his son Chosroës II., succeeded him (592), but the General Varam having revolted against him, and being deserted by many of his soldiers, Chosroës fled with his wife, and two newly-born children, to Circesium. Thence he sent an embassy to the Emperor Maurice, desiring peace; for at that time war was being waged between the Persians and the Roman emperors. At the persuasion of S. Domitian, Maurice admitted his suit, and treated Chosroës as his guest, instead of as an exile, welcomed him with royal gifts, and placed the whole of his body-guards, and the entire Roman army, at his disposal. Moreover, by way of still greater distinction, he sent Domitian, Bishop of Melitene, to attend him. The Roman army defeated Varam, and Chosroës was reinstated on the throne of Persia.

After the murder of Hormisdas, the Persian King, his son Chosroës II. took over (592), but General Varam revolted against him and was abandoned by many of his soldiers. Chosroës fled with his wife and their two newborn children to Circesium. From there, he sent a diplomatic mission to Emperor Maurice, seeking peace, since there was a war going on between the Persians and the Roman emperors. With the encouragement of St. Domitian, Maurice accepted Chosroës’s request, treating him as a guest rather than an exile, greeting him with royal gifts, and giving him full access to his bodyguards and the entire Roman army. Additionally, to honor him further, he sent Domitian, the Bishop of Melitene, to be with him. The Roman army defeated Varam, and Chosroës was restored to the throne of Persia.

Domitian was liberally recompensed for his share in this transaction, but he kept nothing for himself. Every gift made him, he offered to the Church, or to the poor; restoring churches, and supporting hospitals. He died at Constantinople, whither he had been summoned by the Emperor.

Domitian was generously rewarded for his role in this deal, but he didn't keep anything for himself. Every gift he received, he gave to the Church or to the less fortunate; he rebuilt churches and supported hospitals. He died in Constantinople, where he had been called by the Emperor.

S. AGATHO, POPE.

(about 682.)

(about 682.)

[His life by Anastasius, the librarian. Commemorated by the Greeks on Feb. 21st.]

[The life of __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ by Anastasius, the librarian. Honored by the Greeks on February 21st.]

Agatho, a Sicilian by birth, was remarkable for his charity and gentleness. Having been several years treasurer of the Church of Rome, he succeeded Domnus in the Pontificate, in 679. He was represented by three legates in the sixth general council, the third of Constantinople, in [Pg 138] 680, against the Monothelite heresy, which he confuted in a learned letter to the Emperor Constantine Pogonatus, appealing to the constant tradition of the Apostolic Church of Rome, "acknowledged," says he, "by the whole Catholic Church to be the mother and mistress of all the churches, and to derive her superior authority from S. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, to whom Christ committed his whole flock, with a promise that his faith should never fail."

Agatho, who was originally from Sicily, was known for his kindness and generosity. After serving as the treasurer of the Church of Rome for several years, he became Pope in 679, succeeding Domnus. He was represented by three delegates at the sixth ecumenical council, the third of Constantinople, in [Pg 138] 680, where he opposed the Monothelite heresy. He refuted it in an insightful letter to Emperor Constantine Pogonatus, referencing the long-standing tradition of the Apostolic Church of Rome, which he stated is "recognized," as he put it, "by the entire Catholic Church as the mother and mistress of all the churches, deriving its greater authority from St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, to whom Christ entrusted his entire flock, promising that his faith would never fail."

On the 25th day of February, the Council decided against Macarius, author of the Monothelite heresy, and solemnly was the episcopal stole (orarium) removed from his shoulders, and from those of Basil, Bishop of Crete, who followed his opinion, and their thrones were cast out of the council hall, in token that they were removed from their office, and ejected from the communion of the Church. This Pope restored S. Wilfrid to the see of York, from which he had been ejected by the Bishops and King of Northumbria, with the consent of S. Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury.

On February 25th, the Council ruled against Macarius, the proponent of the Monothelite heresy, and officially removed the episcopal stole (orarium) from him and Basil, the Bishop of Crete, who supported his views. Their thrones were thrown out of the council hall as a sign that they were ousted from their positions and excluded from the communion of the Church. This Pope reinstated St. Wilfrid to the see of York, from which he had been ousted by the Bishops and the King of Northumbria, with the agreement of St. Theodore, Archbishop of Canterbury.

S. SETHRIDA, V., ABSS.

(7th cent.)

(7th century)

[Anglican Martyrologies, Saussaye. Authority:—Bede, Eccles. Hist., lib. iii. c. 8.]

[Anglican Martyrologies, Saussaye. Authority:—Bede, Eccles. Hist., vol. iii, ch. 8.]

Bede says that Sethrida was a daughter of the wife of Anna, King of the East Angles, and that she served God in the monastery of Brie, "for at that time, but few monasteries being built in the country of the Angles, many were wont, for the sake of the monastic conversation, to repair to the monasteries of the Franks or Gauls; and they also sent their daughters there to be instructed, and delivered to their heavenly bridegroom, especially in the monasteries of [Pg 139] Brie, Chelles, and Andelys."

Bede says that Sethrida was a daughter of the wife of Anna, King of the East Angles, and that she devoted herself to God in the monastery of Brie. "At that time, there were only a few monasteries established in the land of the Angles, so many people often traveled to the monasteries of the Franks or Gauls for the sake of monastic life. They also sent their daughters there for education and to be given over to their heavenly bridegroom, particularly in the monasteries of [Pg 139] Brie, Chelles, and Andelys."

S. WILLIAM, AB. AND ABP. OF BOURGES.

(a.d. 1209.)

(A.D. 1209.)

[Gallican Martyrologies. His life, written by a contemporary, was published, with the style altered and shortened, by Surius; the same is re-published by the Bollandists, together with a second life, written by another contemporary, from a MS. at Antwerp. Another life by a Canon of Bourges, date uncertain, was published by Labbe, Bibl. nova II., p. 379, 386.]

[Gallican Martyrologies. His life, written by a contemporary, was published, with modifications to the style and a shortened version, by Surius; it was later re-published by the Bollandists, along with a second account written by another contemporary, from a manuscript in Antwerp. Another biography by a Canon of Bourges, with an uncertain date, was published by Labbe, Bibl. nova II., p. 379, 386.]

On the death of Henry de Sully, Archbishop of Bourges, the clergy of that church, unable to agree upon a successor, requested Eudo, Bishop of Paris, to nominate. For this purpose, the bishop came to Beauvais, but found it no easy matter to decide, without causing an eruption of party feeling. In his desire to choose a good man, and one who would commend himself to all, in consultation with two friends, he resolved on committing the matter to God. Accordingly, all the most advisable names were written on slips of parchment, and were sealed, and then deposited beneath the corporal on the altar. The Bishop celebrated very early, with great devotion, and earnestly besought God to indicate him whom he had chosen. When mass was over, he put his hand beneath the corporal, and drew forth one of the billets. He broke the seal in the presence of his two friends, and saw that the name of William, abbot of Challis, was written on the parchment.

Upon the death of Henry de Sully, Archbishop of Bourges, the clergy of that church, unable to agree on a successor, asked Eudo, Bishop of Paris, to make the nomination. To address this, the bishop traveled to Beauvais, but found it challenging to make a decision without sparking strong divisions among the factions. Wanting to choose a good man who would be accepted by all, he consulted with two friends and decided to leave the matter to God. They wrote down all the most suitable names on slips of parchment, sealed them, and placed them under the corporal on the altar. The Bishop celebrated mass early with great devotion and earnestly asked God to reveal his chosen one. After the mass, he reached under the corporal and picked one of the slips. He broke the seal in front of his two friends and saw that the name of William, abbot of Challis, was written on the parchment.

No one else was privy to this appeal. As he left the church, the clergy whom he had convened to elect cried out "that they desired William of Challis as their bishop," and on him the majority of votes fell. Then the bishopric was offered to William, but he recoiled from accepting it, with the greatest dismay, for he was a man of retiring habits and of singular humility. However, on an order coming to him from the superior of the society, the abbot of [Pg 140] Citeaux, and also from the papal legate, he was unable to refuse; and he was consecrated in the year 1200. After the ceremony was over, he laid aside the vestments in which he had received his ordination, and which were of little value, in a press, till his dying day.

No one else knew about this request. As he left the church, the clergy he had gathered shouted that they wanted William of Challis as their bishop, and he received the most votes. The bishopric was offered to William, but he hesitated to accept it, feeling very distressed, because he was a modest person who shied away from the spotlight. However, when he received orders from the head of the society, the abbot of [Pg 140] Cîteaux, and from the papal legate, he couldn't refuse; he was consecrated in the year 1200. After the ceremony, he put away the vestments he wore for his ordination, which were of little value, in a closet for the rest of his life.

In his new dignity he omitted nothing of the severity of his cloister life, disciplining himself more strictly than before, because his business was calculated to distract his thoughts, and his high position was dangerous to humility.

In his new role, he didn’t hold back on the strictness of his monastic life, pushing himself to be even more disciplined than before, since his responsibilities were likely to divert his attention and his elevated status posed a threat to his humility.

He was gentle and loving to penitent sinners; and towards the incorrigible he was stern, but he refused to have recourse to the civil power against them; he had a horror of shedding blood, so that he looked with the utmost repugnance upon the violence and warlike customs of his time. When the crusade against the Albigenses was resolved upon, William of Beauvais resolved on accompanying the expedition. Perhaps his earnestness would move the heretics to repentance, and his horror of bloodshed might serve as a check upon the crusaders. The Albigensian heresy, which was a revival of Paulicianism, ate as a canker into the Church of France. It was not even a form of Christianity, but was a heathen philosophical sect which had adopted a few Christian tenets.

He was gentle and loving toward repentant sinners, but he was strict with those who couldn't change. However, he refused to use the law against them; he was horrified by bloodshed and viewed the violent and warlike customs of his time with great disdain. When the crusade against the Albigenses was planned, William of Beauvais decided to join the expedition. He hoped his sincerity would inspire the heretics to repent, and that his aversion to violence might influence the crusaders. The Albigensian heresy, which was a resurgence of Paulicianism, was a destructive force within the Church of France. It wasn't even a legitimate form of Christianity; rather, it was a pagan philosophical group that had incorporated some Christian beliefs.

The history of the sect was as follows:—Manes, a Persian heathen, flourished in the middle of the third century, dying about 277, the founder of a new religion, after having been, like Simon Magus, a temporary and nominal convert to the Gospel. He was not an inventor of his religion, but merely a blender of the earlier Gnostic heresies with the Persian doctrines of Zoroaster, added to a somewhat larger element of Christianity than the Gnostics had chosen to accept. The Paulicians were a sect which took shape about 660, out of Manichæism, or the religion of Manes. They were cruelly persecuted by the Byzantine Emperors, during two [Pg 141] whole centuries, and spread to the West by degrees; one stream emigrated to Bohemia, where it became the parent of Hussitism; the other to the south of France, where it was called Albigensianism.

The history of the sect is as follows: Manes, a Persian pagan, thrived in the middle of the third century and died around 277. He founded a new religion after being, like Simon Magus, a temporary and nominal convert to the Gospel. He wasn’t a creator of his religion but rather mixed earlier Gnostic heresies with the Persian teachings of Zoroaster, along with a somewhat larger dose of Christianity than the Gnostics had chosen to accept. The Paulicians emerged as a sect around 660, stemming from Manichaeism, or the religion of Manes. They faced severe persecution from the Byzantine Emperors for two whole centuries and gradually spread westward; one group emigrated to Bohemia, where it became the forerunner of Hussitism, while the other went to the south of France, where it became known as Albigensianism.

The fundamental dogma of this new Manichæism was a dualism of good and evil principles or gods, equally matched. The evil was the origin of the visible creation, the world and men's bodies; the good God was the creator of the invisible world and men's souls. The opposition of matter and spirit constituted the basis of their moral systems. These systems were diverse; some, regarding everything natural as evil, abstained from meat, from marriage, and from all employments; whilst others, regarding the soul as so distinct from the body as to be incapable of being soiled by any of its actions, gave themselves up to the grossest licentiousness.

The basic belief of this new Manichæism was a dualism of good and evil forces or gods, equally powerful. The evil force was responsible for the visible creation, the world, and human bodies; the good God created the invisible realm and human souls. The conflict between matter and spirit formed the foundation of their moral systems. These systems varied; some viewed everything natural as evil, avoiding meat, marriage, and all occupations, while others, seeing the soul as completely separate from the body and unaffected by its actions, indulged in the worst forms of debauchery.

The moral condition of Provence, where Albigensianism held sway, was like Sodom and Gomorrah, as may be seen by the poetry of the troubadours; so that God's wrath could not but fall on a land so polluted. The licentiousness which this creed encouraged, helped to make it spread, and the Christianity of the whole of the south of France was imperilled. At the head of these heretics, the Count of Toulouse invaded the lands of the King of Aragon, devastated them, robbed the churches, burnt the monasteries, and ill-treated the clergy, "and slaughtered the Christians of either sex, and every age, without mercy," says Matthew Paris. "But this being at length made known, their heretical aggression was put down by the faithful Christians, who, at the command of Pope Gregory, had come as crusaders from various parts of the West, for the defence of the Christian faith."

The moral state of Provence, where Albigensianism was prevalent, was like Sodom and Gomorrah, as seen in the poetry of the troubadours; thus, God's wrath was bound to fall on such a corrupted land. The promiscuity that this belief fostered helped it spread, putting the Christianity of all of southern France at risk. Leading these heretics, the Count of Toulouse invaded the King of Aragon's lands, destroyed them, looted the churches, burned the monasteries, and mistreated the clergy, "and slaughtered Christians of all genders and ages, without mercy," according to Matthew Paris. "But when this was finally revealed, their heretical aggression was suppressed by faithful Christians, who, at the command of Pope Gregory, had come as crusaders from various parts of the West to defend the Christian faith."

William of Beauvais was not, however, destined to play a part in that sanguinary war. He was called to his rest in [Pg 142] January, 1209. Drawing near his end, he received first extreme unction, and then, as the Blessed Sacrament was brought to him, he struggled up in his bed, and falling on his knees, with many tears, and hands outspread in the shape of a cross, he adored the presence of his Saviour. The night following, he began as usual to recite the Office of Nocturns, but was unable to pronounce more than the first two words, and sign himself with the cross. Then he was laid, at his desire, on ashes, and the vestments in which he had been consecrated bishop were produced, that he might be laid dressed in them in his grave. His body was buried in the Cathedral of Bourges, but was burnt, and the ashes scattered to the winds, by the Calvinists, on the occasion of their plundering the Cathedral in 1562.

William of Beauvais wasn’t meant to be part of that bloody war. He passed away in [Pg 142] January 1209. As he neared his end, he received last rites, and when the Blessed Sacrament was brought to him, he struggled to sit up in bed, knelt down, and with tears in his eyes and arms outstretched in the shape of a cross, he worshipped his Savior. The following night, he started to recite the Office of Nocturns as usual, but could only say the first two words and make the sign of the cross. Then, at his request, he was laid on ashes, and the vestments he wore when he was consecrated bishop were brought forth so he could be buried in them. His body was interred in the Cathedral of Bourges but was burned, and the ashes were scattered to the winds by the Calvinists during their plundering of the Cathedral in 1562.

Patron of Bourges, and of the ancient University of Paris.

Patron of Bourges and the old University of Paris.

In art, he is represented holding a monstrance, or in adoration before one, to represent his great devotion towards the Blessed Sacrament. He is also represented with tears on his cheeks, for he is said to have wept whenever he was told of some scandal of his diocese, or wrong done to the poor. It may be noted, as a coincidence, that his festival was the day of Archbishop William Laud's martyrdom in 1644.

In art, he is shown holding a monstrance or in adoration before one, symbolizing his deep devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. He is also depicted with tears on his cheeks, as he was known to weep whenever he heard about some scandal in his diocese or injustices against the poor. Interestingly, his feast day coincides with Archbishop William Laud's martyrdom on the same day in 1644.

S. GONSALVO, P. C.

(about 1259.)

((~ 1259.))

[His life was compiled in Portuguese, by Didacus de Rosario, of the order of Friar Preachers, from scattered notices and confused accounts.]

[His life was compiled in Portuguese by Didacus de Rosario, a member of the Order of Friar Preachers, from various notes and vague accounts.]

S. Gonsalvus or Gonsalvo, was born of noble parents, at the little village of Vizzella, in the diocese of Braga, in Portugal. Many little incidents are related of his childhood, as how, when an infant at the font, he stretched out [Pg 143] his little hands to the crucifix; how his nurse was wont to take him with her to church, and watch his little eyes fixed intently upon the figure of Christ crucified, on the rood screen; how, when nothing else would still his cries, the child was taken to church, and there was content looking at the statues and pictures of the Saints.

S. Gonsalvus or Gonsalvo was born to noble parents in the small village of Vizzella, in the diocese of Braga, Portugal. Many little stories are shared about his childhood, like how, as an infant at baptism, he reached out his tiny hands toward the crucifix; how his nurse would take him with her to church, where he would watch with wide eyes the figure of Christ on the cross, displayed on the rood screen; and how, when nothing else could stop his crying, the child would be taken to church, where he was happy just looking at the statues and pictures of the Saints.

When he grew to man's estate, he was ordained priest, and was appointed rector of the church of S. Payo, near his father's estates. Here he lived as a father to the poor, and was regular in the fulfilment of his duties as parish priest. After a while the desire came upon him to visit the Holy Land, and he left his nephew, a priest, who had been trained in his house, and in whose principles he had confidence, to take charge of the parish during his absence. He then started on his pilgrimage, and was absent for fourteen years. In the meantime, his nephew, relieved of the constraint of his uncle's presence, abandoned himself to the indulgence of his ruling passion, a love of field sports. He filled the parsonage house with dogs and hawks, and spent his time in hunting and revelry. The poor were forgotten, and the church was neglected. At length, Gonsalvo not returning, the nephew asked the Bishop to institute him to the living, pretending that he had received authentic information of the death of his uncle.

When he became an adult, he was ordained as a priest and became the rector of the church of S. Payo, close to his father's land. He lived like a father to the poor and consistently fulfilled his responsibilities as parish priest. After some time, he felt the urge to visit the Holy Land and left his nephew, a priest who had been raised in his home and whom he trusted, in charge of the parish during his absence. He then set out on his pilgrimage and was gone for fourteen years. Meanwhile, his nephew, free from his uncle's oversight, gave in to his main passion: a love for hunting. He filled the rectory with dogs and hawks and spent his days hunting and partying. The poor were forgotten, and the church was neglected. Eventually, with Gonsalvo not returning, the nephew asked the Bishop to appoint him to the position, claiming he had reliable information about his uncle's death.

One day Gonsalvo, ragged, sunburnt, with grizzled locks and foot-sore, returned to his parsonage; but the dogs, at the sight of a mendicant, began to bark furiously, and when he attempted to pass them, bit him and tore his rags, so that he was compelled to retire. The parish priest hearing the noise, looked from his window, and seeing a poor man in tatters defending himself against the dogs, sent a servant to call them off, and tell the poor man that the owner of the house objected to beggars.

One day, Gonsalvo, looking worn out, sunburned, with gray hair and sore feet, returned to his parsonage. But the dogs, seeing a beggar, started barking loudly, and when he tried to get past them, they bit him and tore at his rags, forcing him to back away. The parish priest, hearing the commotion, looked out his window and saw a poor man in tattered clothes trying to fend off the dogs. He sent a servant to call them off and let the poor man know that the owner of the house didn't want beggars around.

Gonsalvo, filled with indignation against his nephew for [Pg 144] the manner in which he had betrayed his trust, rushed into the house, passed the dogs which the servant restrained, and appeared in the door of the dining apartment, as the nephew was seating himself to an abundant and sumptuous meal.

Gonsalvo, filled with anger towards his nephew for [Pg 144] the way he had betrayed his trust, rushed into the house, passed by the dogs that the servant was holding back, and appeared in the doorway of the dining room just as the nephew was getting ready to sit down to a lavish and extravagant meal.

Then the old pilgrim's wrath flamed forth, and he cried, "Was it for this that thy uncle left his parish and committed the care of souls into thy hands? A wolf now guards the sheep and devours them!"

Then the old pilgrim's anger erupted, and he exclaimed, "Was this why your uncle left his parish and entrusted the care of souls to you? A wolf now watches over the sheep and devours them!"

The nephew, exasperated at the words of reproach, and angry at the intrusion, caught up a stick, and running upon the old man, drove him with many blows from the house, refusing to listen to him, and believe him, when he declared his name.

The nephew, frustrated by the harsh words and annoyed by the interruption, grabbed a stick and charged at the old man, hitting him repeatedly until he drove him out of the house, refusing to listen to or believe him when he stated his name.

Then Gonsalvo, full of grief, retired to a wild spot near Amarante, where was an old shed, beside the river Tamego. Amarante was once a small town; at this time it had fallen into complete ruin, and was deserted. Here Gonsalvo erected a little oratory in honour of the Blessed Virgin, and laboured to instruct the peasantry of the neighbourhood in Christian doctrine, and to stir up in their hearts the love of God. But he was not satisfied that he was serving his Master in the way which He willed. He therefore prayed most earnestly to be guided aright, and to have the will of God made clear to him. After long fasting, one day, as he lay prostrate in supplication before the altar, Our Lady appeared to him and said, "Rise, Gonsalvo, and enter that religious order in which thou shalt hear the Angelic Salutation open and close the offices of prayer."

Then Gonsalvo, filled with grief, went to a secluded area near Amarante, where there was an old shed by the river Tamego. Amarante had once been a small town; by this time, it had fallen into complete ruin and was deserted. Here, Gonsalvo built a small chapel in honor of the Blessed Virgin and worked to teach the local farmers about Christian beliefs and inspire them with love for God. However, he felt he wasn't serving his Master in the way He wanted. He therefore prayed earnestly for guidance and clarity on God's will. After a long period of fasting, one day, as he lay flat in prayer before the altar, Our Lady appeared to him and said, "Rise, Gonsalvo, and join that religious order where you will hear the Angelic Salutation at the beginning and end of your prayers."

Then Gonsalvo took his staff and wandered from city to city, and from monastery to monastery, listening to the choir offices, but ever being disappointed, for they closed with Benedicamus Domino, and not with the Ave Maria. And when he came to Vinerana, where were four religious houses, whereof one was Dominican, and another Franciscan, [Pg 145] by chance he sought shelter in the former. Then when the bells began to chime for vespers, he went to the church, and heard the friars begin their office with Ave Maria. With beating heart he waited for the conclusion of vespers, and heard them close with the Angelic Salutation. Then he knew that he had found the place of his rest; and he asked to be admitted into the order, and was gladly received. But after awhile he desired to go back to his poor peasants at Amarante; therefore he asked leave of the superior, and it was accorded him. So he returned to his cell and oratory, and there preached to the people the word of God.

Then Gonsalvo took his staff and traveled from city to city, and from monastery to monastery, listening to the choir services, but he was always disappointed because they ended with Benedicamus Domino, not with the Ave Maria. When he arrived at Vinerana, which had four religious houses, one Dominican and another Franciscan, [Pg 145] he happened to find shelter in the Dominican house. As the bells began to ring for vespers, he went to the church and heard the friars start their service with Ave Maria. With a pounding heart, he anticipated the end of vespers and heard them conclude with the Angelic Salutation. Then he knew he had found his place of rest; he requested to join the order and was gladly accepted. But after a while, he wanted to return to his poor peasants in Amarante; so he asked the superior for permission, and it was granted. He then returned to his cell and oratory, where he preached the word of God to the people.

Now it happened that at Amarante there was a ford of the Tamego, which was much used, as it lay in the direct route from Braga to Lamego and the south. It was, however, dangerous, and a great number of lives were lost whilst Gonsalvo lived at Amarante. He considered much the necessity there was that a bridge should be built, how many lives it would be the means of saving, and what a great convenience it would prove to travellers. He accordingly resolved on building one, and he went round the country begging for his bridge. By many his project was regarded as visionary, and he would himself have despaired of accomplishing his undertaking, had he not been upheld by his strong confidence in the goodness of God. This confidence was, moreover, sustained by signs and wonders, showing him that God approved his undertaking. If we may believe the life of him, written by De Rosario, on one occasion he begged of a nobleman, who, as a rude joke, and to get rid of the beggar, scribbled a couple of lines on a scrap of paper, and bade him take it to his wife, who would give him something. The Saint walked to the nobleman's castle, and was exhausted with fatigue when he reached it and presented the note. The lady looked at it, and saw [Pg 146] written therein, "The bearer is a poor fool who wishes to build a bridge. Let him have the weight of this paper in cash." She laughed, and showed the message to Gonsalvo, telling him that her husband had been making sport of him. "Be it so," said the priest, "yet give me the weight of that note in money." She cast the paper into one scale, and into the other she put silver; then, to her amazement, the note weighed a large sum of money. Thus God compensated his servant for his labour, and punished the nobleman for his bitter jest.

At Amarante, there was a crossing over the Tamego River that many people used because it was the direct route from Braga to Lamego and the south. However, it was dangerous, and many lives were lost while Gonsalvo lived there. He realized how necessary it was to build a bridge, how many lives it could save, and what a great help it would be for travelers. So, he decided to build one and started going around asking for donations. Many people saw his project as unrealistic, and he would have given up on it himself if he hadn’t been supported by his strong faith in God. This faith was also bolstered by signs and wonders showing him that God approved of his plans. According to De Rosario's account of his life, there was a time when he asked a nobleman for help, who, as a cruel joke, wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper and told Gonsalvo to give it to his wife, who would give him something. The Saint walked to the nobleman's castle, exhausted by the time he arrived and presented the note. The lady read it and saw that it said, "The bearer is a poor fool who wishes to build a bridge. Give him the equivalent of this paper in cash." She laughed and showed the message to Gonsalvo, telling him her husband was making fun of him. "That’s fine," said the priest, "but please give me the equivalent of that note in money." She placed the paper on one side of a scale and put silver on the other side, and to her surprise, the note balanced a substantial amount of money. Thus, God rewarded His servant for his efforts and punished the nobleman for his cruel joke.

Little by little the money was begged, and at length the poor priest was able to set masons to work, and to erect the desired bridge over the Tamego.

Bit by bit, the money was gathered through begging, and eventually, the poor priest was able to hire masons and build the long-awaited bridge over the Tamego.

S. Gonsalvo died, and was buried at Amarante, of which place he is patron.

S. Gonsalvo passed away and was buried in Amarante, which is the place he is the patron of.

(Gonsalvus, in Portuguese, Gonçalo, Gonsallo, or Gonsalvo.)

(Gonsalvus, in Portuguese, Gonçalo, Gonsallo, or Gonsalvo.)

In art, he is represented with a bridge in his hand.

In art, he's depicted holding a bridge.

B. ORINGA, OR CHRISTIANA, V.

(a.d. 1310.)

(A.D. 1310.)

[Her life, from an ancient MS., in the Convent of S. Clara, at Florence, was published by Silvanus Razzi, and reprinted in the Acta Sanctorum.]

[Her life, from an old manuscript in the Convent of S. Clara in Florence, was published by Silvanus Razzi and reprinted in the Acta Sanctorum.]

The Blessed Oringa was born at Sancta Croce, on the Arno, in the year 1237, of poor parents, who died whilst she was young. She kept the cattle on the farm occupied by her two brothers. The cows were taken by her into the woods to pasture, and they became so docile that they obeyed her voice in all things. When she grew to a marriageable age, her brothers determined that she should become the wife of a small farmer in the parish; but she ran [Pg 147] away, and escaping across the river, made her way to Lucca. The way was long, and night falling, the young girl lost the road, and wandered in a forest. At the same time her fancy conjured up horrible forms to frighten her. She would had died of terror, but for the companionship of a little hare which played about her skirts, as tamely as if it had been a favourite kitten, and rested on her lap all night, when she cast herself down in weariness. Next morning, the hare gambolled before her, and led her into the road, after which it ran away. At Lucca she entered the service of a pious family. As she was annoyed on account of her beauty, she stained her skin with walnut juice. Having gone on a pilgrimage to Mount Gargano, on which the archangel Michael had once appeared, for she held the angels in great reverence; on her return, some men with whom she fell in on the road, towards dusk, misled her with evil purpose; but S. Michael himself flashing out of the darkness at her side, protected her, and led her in the right road. Later in life she visited Rome, and took service in the house of a pious widow, named Margaret, who treated her as a daughter rather than as a domestic. At Rome she was called Christiana, instead of her baptismal name of Oringa. She occasionally fell into ecstasies as she prayed, and saw into futurity. When aged seventy she was struck with paralysis, in which she lay three years. As she died, her face is said to have shone with a celestial light.

The Blessed Oringa was born in Sancta Croce, by the Arno River, in 1237 to poor parents who died when she was young. She helped care for the cattle on the farm with her two brothers. She would take the cows into the woods to graze, and they became so gentle that they followed her commands. When she reached marriageable age, her brothers decided she should marry a local farmer, but she ran away and crossed the river to reach Lucca. The journey was long, and as night fell, she lost her way and wandered into a forest. Her imagination conjured frightful images that terrified her. She would have been overcome with fear if not for a little hare that played around her feet, as tame as a favorite kitten, and rested on her lap all night when she lay down in exhaustion. The next morning, the hare danced in front of her, guiding her back to the path, then ran off. In Lucca, she found work with a devout family. Upset by her beauty, she stained her skin with walnut juice. After going on a pilgrimage to Mount Gargano, where the archangel Michael once appeared—whom she deeply respected—she encountered some men on her way back who intended to harm her. However, Saint Michael himself emerged from the darkness, protected her, and guided her back on the right path. Later in life, she traveled to Rome and worked for a pious widow named Margaret, who treated her like a daughter instead of a servant. In Rome, she was called Christiana instead of her baptismal name, Oringa. While praying, she sometimes fell into ecstasies and had visions of the future. When she was seventy, she suffered a paralysis that left her bedridden for three years. As she passed away, her face reportedly radiated a heavenly light.


January 11.

S. Balthazar, K., one of the Magi, circ. a.d. 54.
S. Hyginus, Pope, a.d. 156.
S. Leucius, B. of Brindisi, in Italy.
S. Palæmon, H., 4th cent.
S. Theodosius, of Antioch, circ. a.d. 412.
S. Theodosius the Cœnobiarch, a.d. 529.
S. Vitalis, Monk of Gaza, 7th cent.
S. Salvius, B. of Amiens, circ. a.d. 615.
S. Egwin, B. of Worcester, circ. a.d. 720.
S. Paulinus, Patr. of Aquileia, a.d. 803. (See Jan. 28.)

St. Balthazar, one of the Magi, around A.D. 54.
St. Hyginus, Pope, A.D. 156.
St. Leucius, Bishop of Brindisi, Italy.
St. Palæmon, H., 4th century
St. Theodosius, of Antioch, around A.D. 412.
St. Theodosius the Cœnobiarch, A.D. 529.
St. Vitalis, Monk of Gaza, 7th century
St. Salvius, Bishop of Amiens, around A.D. 615.
St. Egwin, Bishop of Worcester, around A.D. 720.
St. Paulinus, Patriarch of Aquileia, A.D. 803. (See Jan. 28.)

S. BALTHAZAR, K.

(about 54.)

(about 54.)

[Cologne Breviary. In some Martyrologies S. Gaspar is commemorated on this day, and S. Balthazar on the 6th Jan.; but the Cologne use is to commemorate S. Melchior on the 1st, S. Gaspar on the 6th, and S. Balthazar on the 11th January, as the 1st Jan. is the Circumcision, and the 6th is the Epiphany; at Cologne this day is kept, with special services, as the Feast of the Three Kings; Melchior, Gaspar, and Balthazar being hereon commemorated together.]

[Cologne Breviary. In some martyrologies, St. Gaspar is celebrated today, and St. Balthazar is recognized on January 6th; however, the Cologne tradition celebrates St. Melchior on the 1st, St. Gaspar on the 6th, and St. Balthazar on January 11th, since January 1st is the Feast of the Circumcision and January 6th is the Epiphany. In Cologne, this day is marked with special services as the Feast of the Three Kings, honoring Melchior, Gaspar, and Balthazar together.]

O.

n this day S. Balthazar, one of the Magi, King and Bishop, having received consecration from the hands of the Apostle S. Thomas, after celebrating the Holy Sacrifice, fell asleep. According to some authorities, the Three Kings met in the royal church of the city Sewe, in the East; when the eldest, Melchior, being one hundred and sixteen years old, consecrated the venerable mysteries on Jan. 1st, the Octave of the Nativity, and then died. On the feast of the Epiphany, Gaspar, aged one hundred and twelve, did the same; and on the 11th January, Balthazar, aged one hundred and nine, offered the adorable sacrifice, gave up [Pg 149] the ghost, and was laid in the same sepulchre with the two others. See what has been said on the subject of the Three Kings in the account of the Epiphany.

On this day, St. Balthazar, one of the Magi, King and Bishop, having received his consecration from the hands of the Apostle St. Thomas, fell asleep after celebrating the Holy Sacrifice. According to some sources, the Three Kings gathered in the royal church of the city Sewe in the East; when the eldest, Melchior, who was one hundred and sixteen years old, consecrated the sacred mysteries on January 1st, the Octave of the Nativity, and then died. On the feast of the Epiphany, Gaspar, aged one hundred and twelve, did the same; and on January 11th, Balthazar, aged one hundred and nine, offered the holy sacrifice, passed away, and was laid to rest in the same tomb as the two others. Refer to what has been said about the Three Kings in the account of the Epiphany.

S. HYGINUS, POPE.

(156.)

(156.)

Of this Pope, who succeeded S. Telesphorus, little is known. Eusebius informs us that he sat four years in the chair of S. Peter. He brought the church in Rome into more complete organization than heretofore, taking advantage of the repose after persecution, enjoyed under the mild Emperor Antoninus Pius. He is said to have been a Greek, and to have been educated in philosophy. In his reign the heretics Cerdo and Valentine came to Rome.

Of this Pope, who succeeded St. Telesphorus, not much is known. Eusebius tells us that he served four years in the chair of St. Peter. He organized the church in Rome more effectively than before, taking advantage of the peace after persecution, enjoyed under the gentle Emperor Antoninus Pius. He is thought to have been Greek and educated in philosophy. During his reign, the heretics Cerdo and Valentine came to Rome.

S. PALÆMON, H.

(4th cent.)

(4th century)

[From the authentic life of S. Pachomius, of whom S. Palæmon was the master.]

[From the true life of S. Pachomius, who learned from S. Palæmon.]

S. Palæmon was an aged hermit in the deserts of Upper Egypt, when Pachomius, released from military service, and desiring to flee the world, came to him and desired to become his pupil. The old anchorite refused to receive him, because his manner of life was too severe for a youth. "I eat nothing but bread and salt," said he; "I never taste wine, and I watch half the night." Then, answered Pachomius, "I believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, who will give me strength and patience to assist thee in thy prayers to follow thy holy conversation."

S. Palæmon was an elderly hermit in the deserts of Upper Egypt when Pachomius, newly released from military service and wanting to escape the world, approached him asking to be his student. The old hermit declined to take him in, saying his lifestyle was too harsh for someone so young. "I eat nothing but bread and salt," he said, "I never touch wine, and I spend half the night awake." Pachomius responded, "I believe in Jesus Christ my Lord, who will give me the strength and patience to support you in your prayers and to follow your holy way of life."

Then Palæmon, beholding him with his spiritual eye, saw that he was a chosen vessel, and admitted him to be his disciple. So they lived together, serving the Lord in fasting and tears and prayer.

Then Palæmon, looking at him with insight, realized that he was a chosen one, and accepted him as his disciple. They lived together, dedicating themselves to the Lord with fasting, tears, and prayer.

When the feast of Easter came, Pachomius, to honour the day of the Resurrection, prepared a dinner of herbs and oil, and set it before the master. But Palæmon, pressing his brow with his hands, exclaimed, "My Lord suffered on the Cross, and shall I taste oil?" So he refused it, and contented himself with bread and salt.

When Easter arrived, Pachomius, wanting to celebrate the day of the Resurrection, made a dinner of herbs and oil and served it to the master. But Palæmon, pressing his brow with his hands, exclaimed, "My Lord suffered on the Cross, and should I eat oil?" So he rejected it and settled for bread and salt.

One evening, a solitary came into their cell, and asked to join them in prayer; then, filled with a spirit of presumption, he said, "If we are the true servants of God, let us say our prayers standing on live coals."

One evening, a stranger entered their cell and asked to join them in prayer; then, feeling overconfident, he said, "If we are truly serving God, let's pray standing on hot coals."

But Palæmon was wroth, and rebuked him for his pride.

But Palæmon was angry and criticized him for his arrogance.

However, the monk persisted, and by Satan's craft, he stood unhurt on the red-hot cinders. Then he retired to his own cell, puffed up with self-confidence. But pride goes before a fall, and shortly after he fell into fleshly lust; then, filled with shame, he crept back to the cave of Palæmon, and falling at his feet, with bitter tears, confessed his sin.

However, the monk didn’t back down, and through Satan’s trickery, he stood unharmed on the burning coals. Then he went back to his own cell, feeling full of himself. But pride comes before a fall, and soon after, he succumbed to carnal desires; then, filled with shame, he returned to the cave of Palæmon, fell at his feet, and confessed his sin with bitter tears.

When S. Pachomius was inspired to found a monastery at Tabenna, he announced his intention to S. Palæmon. The old man accompanied his pupil, and took up his abode at Tabenna, for he loved Pachomius as his own son, and he could not bear to be separated from him. Therefore he said, "Let us make a compact together, that we part not the one from the other, till God break our union." And to this Pachomius gladly agreed. So they lived much together, till the old man died, and then his disciple buried [Pg 151] him at Tabenna.

When S. Pachomius felt inspired to start a monastery at Tabenna, he shared his plans with S. Palæmon. The old man joined his student and settled at Tabenna because he cared for Pachomius like a son and couldn’t stand the thought of being apart from him. So, he said, "Let’s make a promise that we won’t separate until God decides to break our bond." Pachomius happily agreed to this. They spent a lot of time together until the old man passed away, and then his disciple buried him at Tabenna.

S. THEODOSIUS, THE CŒNOBIARCH, H.

(a.d. 529.)

(A.D. 529.)

[Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology. The life of S. Theodosius, written by a contemporary anonymous author, supposed by Baronius, but without sufficient grounds, to be Cyril, the author of the lives of SS. Euthemius, Saba, and John the Silent. But Cave says that the life of S. Theodosius was written by Theodore, Bishop of Pera.]

[Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology. The life of St. Theodosius, written by an anonymous author of the time, is thought by Baronius, although without strong proof, to be Cyril, who also documented the lives of Sts. Euthemius, Saba, and John the Silent. However, Cave asserts that the life of St. Theodosius was authored by Theodore, Bishop of Pera.]

Theodosius was born in the little town of Marissa, in Cappadocia, in 423. He was ordained reader, but some time after, being moved by Abraham's example, to quit his country and friends, he resolved to visit the holy places. He accordingly set out for Jerusalem, and visited the famous S. Simeon Stylites, near Antioch, on his way. S. Simeon accosted him by name, and bade him ascend his pillar, when he embraced him, and foretold several circumstances of his life, giving him advice how to act under them. Having satisfied his devotion in visiting the holy places in Jerusalem, he betook himself to the cell of Longinus, a holy man, who dwelt near the tower of David, and to him he became dear, on account of his singular virtue. A lady, named Icelia, having built a church to the honour of the Virgin Mother of God, on the high road to Bethlehem, Longinus appointed his disciple, Theodosius, to the charge of this church. But he did not retain this charge long; loving solitude, he retired to the mountains, and took up his abode in the cave, where the Wise Men were traditionally held to have reposed on their way to Bethlehem. Here he passed his time in labouring with his hands, in fasting, and in prayer. His food was coarse pulse and herbs; for thirty years he did not taste bread. Many desired to serve God under his direction: he at first determined to admit six or seven, but was soon obliged to receive a greater number, and at length came to a resolution never to reject any that [Pg 152] presented themselves with dispositions that seemed sincere. The first lesson he taught his monks was, that the continual remembrance of death is the foundation of religious perfection. To impress the thought of death more deeply on their minds, he caused a great sepulchre to be constructed as the common burying place of his monks. When it was complete, half seriously and half in jest, he said: "The tomb is finished, which of you will be its first inmate?" Then one, Basil, a priest, knelt at his feet, and asked to be the first to celebrate the dedication of the sepulchre. Therefore S. Theodosius ordered all the offices of the dead to be recited for Basil, first for three days, then for nine, and then for forty; and at the close of the forty days he died without sickness or pain, as though going to sleep. And for forty days after his death he was seen by the abbot Theodosius in his place among the brethren, chanting the praises of God. None others saw him, but one Aetius heard his voice. Then the abbot, hearing Aetius confess this, prayed to God to open his eyes, and seeing the dead monk again in choir, he pointed him out; and then Aetius saw him, and ran, and would have embraced him, but he vanished out of his sight.

Theodosius was born in the small town of Marissa, in Cappadocia, in 423. He was initially ordained as a reader, but inspired by Abraham's example, he decided to leave his home and friends to visit holy sites. He set off for Jerusalem and stopped to see the famous St. Simeon Stylites near Antioch. St. Simeon recognized him by name and invited him to climb his pillar, where he embraced him and predicted several events in his life, offering advice on how to navigate them. After fulfilling his devotion by visiting the holy places in Jerusalem, he went to the hermitage of Longinus, a holy man who lived near the tower of David. Longinus became fond of him because of his exceptional virtue. A woman named Icelia built a church in honor of the Virgin Mother of God along the road to Bethlehem, and Longinus appointed his disciple, Theodosius, to oversee this church. However, he didn’t keep this role for long; valuing solitude, he retreated to the mountains and settled in the cave where the Wise Men were said to have rested on their way to Bethlehem. There, he spent his time working with his hands, fasting, and praying. His diet consisted of simple legumes and herbs; for thirty years, he never touched bread. Many wanted to serve God under his guidance; he initially planned to accept six or seven disciples but eventually had to take in more, ultimately deciding never to turn away anyone who showed sincere intentions. The first lesson he taught his monks was that constantly remembering death is the basis of spiritual perfection. To instill this thought more deeply, he had a large tomb built as the common burial place for his monks. When it was finished, he joked half-seriously, "The tomb is ready; who wants to be the first to occupy it?" Then, a priest named Basil knelt at his feet and asked to be the first to celebrate the dedication of the tomb. So, St. Theodosius ordered all the burial rites to be performed for Basil—first for three days, then for nine, and finally for forty. At the end of the forty days, he passed away peacefully, almost as if he had gone to sleep. For forty days after his death, Abbot Theodosius saw him among the brethren, praising God. No one else saw him, but a man named Aetius heard his voice. When Abbot Theodosius learned of this from Aetius, he prayed to God to open his eyes, and upon seeing the deceased monk in choir again, he pointed him out. Aetius saw him, ran to embrace him, but he vanished from sight.

Once, as Easter approached, there was a deficiency of food in the monastery, and they had not even bread for the Holy Sacrifice. This troubled them sore, for they feared that the holy feast would come, and pass, without their being able to celebrate the divine liturgy. Therefore they prayed with one accord to God, and behold! mules laden with provisions arrived at the monastery, and amongst the provisions was bread for the sacrifice.

Once, as Easter was coming up, there was a shortage of food in the monastery, and they didn't even have bread for the Holy Sacrifice. This upset them greatly, as they were worried that the sacred feast would come and go without them being able to celebrate the divine liturgy. So, they all prayed together to God, and suddenly! Mules loaded with supplies arrived at the monastery, and among the supplies was bread for the sacrifice.

The lustre of the sanctity of S. Theodosius drawing great numbers to him, who desired to serve God under his direction, he resolved on building a large monastery to receive them all; but where to build it he knew not. [Pg 153] After some consideration, he took a censer, and put charcoal and incense thereon, but no fire, and he prayed: "O God who didst of old, by many and great miracles, confirm Israel; who didst to thy servant Moses persuade by many and various marvels, to take on him the burden of ruling that people; who didst turn the water of Egypt into blood, and then re-convert it again; who didst give to Gideon an earnest of his victory in the fleece and the dew; who didst assure Hezekiah of an addition to his days, by the return of the shadow on the dial; who didst at the cry of Elias send fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice. Thou art the same Lord, unto whom this day I plead! Hear thou the prayers of the servant, and show me where I shall build a temple to Thy honour, and a habitation for thy servants and my disciples. Show, O Lord! by the kindling of these coals, where the place shall be, to Thy glory, and to the acknowledgment of many, and the confirmation of the truth." Having uttered this prayer, he walked through the land with the censer in his hand. And when he came, after much wandering, to a desert spot called Gutilla, on the shores of the Dead Sea, he turned and came home, and as he neared his cave the coals kindled, and the smoke of the incense rose towards heaven, as a sign that thence should ascend the prayers of the faithful from age to age, in the daily sacrifice. There accordingly he erected his monastery, and it was soon filled with holy monks. To this monastery were annexed several infirmaries; one for the sick monks, two for sick lay folk; one for the aged and feeble monks, and one for persons deranged. All succours, spiritual and temporal, were afforded in these hospitals, which were kept in admirable order, and were attended by the monks with alacrity and care. S. Theodosius erected also several buildings for the reception of strangers, in which he exercised an unbounded hospitality, entertaining all that came, for whose [Pg 154] use there were, on one occasion, above a hundred tables served with provisions. The monastery itself was like a city of saints in the midst of a desert; and in it reigned regularity, silence, charity, and peace. There were four churches belonging to it, one for each of the three nations of which his community was composed, each speaking a different language, and the fourth church was for the use of the recovering lunatics. The nations into which his community was divided were the Greeks, and all those using the liturgy in the Greek tongue; the second church was used by those having divine worship in the Armenian language; and in the third church the holy praises of God were sung, and the sacrifice was offered in the language of the Bessi, that is, of the wandering nations of Arab race. "Thus by them," says the contemporary writer; "the rule of hymnody was carried out, and seven times a day was it offered to the God of all. But when it behoved them to participate in the venerable Sacrament, the law was very beautifully constituted among them, that till after the Gospel, divinely inspired, each should hear in his own church and language the divine voice; but after that they were assembled into one—the possessed alone excepted—namely, into the large church of the Greeks, as is done to this day, and there they participate together of the sanctifying gifts."

The reputation of St. Theodosius attracted many people who wanted to serve God under his guidance, so he decided to build a large monastery to accommodate them all, but he didn’t know where to build it. [Pg 153] After thinking about it, he took a censer, added charcoal and incense, but no fire, and prayed: “O God, who in the past confirmed Israel with many great miracles; who persuaded your servant Moses with various wonders to take on the leadership of that people; who turned the waters of Egypt into blood and back again; who assured Gideon of victory with a fleece and dew; who promised Hezekiah extra years of life by making the shadow on the sundial go backward; who sent fire from heaven in response to Elijah’s cry to consume his sacrifice—You are the same Lord I implore today! Hear my servant's prayers and show me where I should build a temple in Your honor, a home for your servants and my disciples. Show me, O Lord, by igniting these coals, where the place should be, for Your glory, for many to acknowledge, and for the affirmation of the truth.” After saying this prayer, he walked around the land with the censer in hand. After wandering for a while, he reached a deserted area called Gutilla, by the shores of the Dead Sea, and on his return home, as he got near his cave, the coals ignited, and the incense smoke rose to heaven, as a sign that this is where the prayers of the faithful would rise through the ages in the daily sacrifice. There, he built his monastery, which quickly filled with holy monks. This monastery was equipped with several infirmaries: one for sick monks, two for sick laypeople, one for elderly and frail monks, and one for those who were mentally ill. Both spiritual and practical help were provided in these well-organized hospitals, which were attended to with eagerness and care by the monks. St. Theodosius also built several structures for receiving guests, offering boundless hospitality and serving food at more than a hundred tables on some occasions. The monastery itself resembled a city of saints in the desert, characterized by order, silence, charity, and peace. Four churches belonged to it, one for each of the three different national groups in the community, which spoke different languages, along with a fourth church for those recovering from mental illness. The community was divided into the Greeks, those using the Greek liturgy; the second church was for those worshiping in Armenian; and in the third church, the holy praises of God were sung, and sacrifices were offered in the language of the Bessi, or the wandering Arab nations. "Thus," says a contemporary writer, "the practice of hymnody was carried out, with hymns offered seven times a day to the God of all. But when it was time for them to partake in the sacred Sacrament, a beautifully structured law required that until the Gospel was read, each person would hear the divine message in their own church and language. After that, they would gather together—except for those who were not well—into the large Greek church, just as is still done today, and there they would partake together of the sanctifying gifts.” [Pg 154]

At times not set apart for public prayer and necessary rest, every monk was obliged to apply himself to some trade or manual labour. Sallust, patriarch of Jerusalem, appointed S. Sabas superior of all the hermits in Palestine, and S. Theodosius head of all the monks living in community, for which reason he obtained the title of Cœnobiarch.

At times when public prayer and much-needed rest weren't happening, every monk had to focus on some kind of trade or manual work. Sallust, the patriarch of Jerusalem, appointed St. Sabas as the leader of all the hermits in Palestine, and St. Theodosius as the head of all the monks living in community, which is why he earned the title of Cœnobiarch.

These two great servants of God lived in close friendship, and together strove against the heresy of Eutyches, which then devastated the Church. For the Emperor Anastasius [Pg 155] favoured the Eutychians; he banished the patriarch of Antioch and the patriarch of Jerusalem, and introduced an heretical bishop, Severus, into the latter see, commanding the Syrians to obey and hold communion with him. Then these great ascetic saints, with those bodies of religious men whom they ruled, proved bulwarks of the faith, uncompromising defenders of the truth. Like rocks in the desert, they remained unchanged and immovable. In vain did the emperor employ persuasion, attempt bribery, and finally exile the Cenobiarch; he could not be moved, but journeyed through the land from which the bishops had been expelled, confirming the faithful, and denouncing the established heresy. At Jerusalem, having assembled the people together, he from the pulpit cried with a loud voice, "If any man receives not the four General Councils as the four Gospels, let him be anathema!" Such boldness in an old man, venerated for his sanctity, inspired with courage those whom the edicts had frightened. His discourses produced a wonderful effect on the people, and God gave a sanction to his zeal by miracles. The Emperor sent an order for his banishment, which was executed; but dying soon after, Theodosius was recalled by his successor Justin, who was a Catholic.

These two great servants of God shared a close friendship and worked together against the heresy of Eutyches, which was causing devastation in the Church. Emperor Anastasius favored the Eutychians; he banished the patriarch of Antioch and the patriarch of Jerusalem and brought in a heretical bishop, Severus, to take over the latter position, commanding the Syrians to accept and communicate with him. These great ascetic saints, along with the religious men they led, stood as strong defenders of the faith, unwavering champions of the truth. Like rocks in the desert, they remained steadfast and immovable. The emperor tried in vain to persuade them, attempted bribery, and finally exiled the Cenobiarch; he couldn’t be swayed and traveled through the land from which the bishops had been expelled, strengthening the faithful and condemning the established heresy. In Jerusalem, after gathering the people together, he shouted from the pulpit, "If anyone does not accept the four General Councils as the four Gospels, let him be anathema!" Such courage from an elderly man, respected for his holiness, inspired those who had been intimidated by the edicts. His speeches had a powerful impact on the people, and God confirmed his zeal with miracles. The Emperor issued a banishment order against him, which was carried out; but he died soon after, and Theodosius was recalled by his successor Justin, who was a Catholic.

Our Saint survived his return eleven years. So great was his humility, that, seeing two monks at variance with each other, he threw himself at their feet, and would not rise till they were reconciled. Once, having excommunicated one of his monks for some offence, the man defiantly excommunicated Theodosius, and he meekly accepted the sentence, and acted as one cut off from the society of the faithful and participation in the Sacraments, till the guilty monk, confounded and repentant, removed the ban. During the last year of his life he was afflicted with a painful disease, which reduced him to a shadow. It was noticed by those [Pg 156] who nursed him, that, even in his sleep, his lips murmured the familiar words of prayer. Perceiving the hour of his dissolution draw nigh, he gave his last exhortations to his disciples, and foretold many things which came to pass after his death; and then fell asleep in Christ, on the 11th Jan., 529. Peter, patriarch of Jerusalem, and the whole country, assisted at his interment. He was buried in the first cell the cave of the Magi.

Our saint lived for eleven years after returning. His humility was so remarkable that when he saw two monks in conflict, he threw himself at their feet and refused to get up until they made peace. Once, after excommunicating one of his monks for a wrongdoing, the monk defiantly excommunicated Theodosius. He calmly accepted the punishment and acted as if he were cut off from the community of believers and the sacraments, until the guilty monk, ashamed and regretful, lifted the ban. During the last year of his life, he suffered from a painful illness that left him emaciated. Those who cared for him noticed that even in his sleep, his lips whispered the familiar prayers. As he sensed his time was drawing near, he gave his last teachings to his disciples and predicted many events that occurred after his death. He then fell asleep in Christ on January 11, 529. Peter, the patriarch of Jerusalem, along with the entire region, was present at his burial. He was laid to rest in the first cell of the cave of the Magi.

S. VITALIS, MONK.

(beginning of 7th cent.)

(early 7th century)

[Greek Menæa. His history occurs as an episode in the life of S. John the Almsgiver, patriarch of Alexandria, by Leontius, Bishop of Naplous in Cyprus, from the relation of the Acts of S. John, by his clergy. This life was commended in the seventh General Council, and is perfectly authentic.]

[Greek Menæa. His story is included as a part of the life of St. John the Almsgiver, who was the patriarch of Alexandria, written by Leontius, Bishop of Naplous in Cyprus, based on the accounts from the Acts of St. John, as reported by his clergy. This biography was praised at the seventh General Council and is entirely authentic.]

The story of Vitalis, or Vitali, monk of Gaza, is brought in by the Bishop of Naplous, in his life of S. John the Almsgiver, almost accidentally, to illustrate the long suffering and charity of S. John, that thinketh not evil. But I know not, in all the glorious histories of the blessed ones, one story so deeply touching as that of the little known, and soon forgotten, monk of Gaza.

The story of Vitalis, or Vitali, a monk from Gaza, is mentioned by the Bishop of Naplous in his account of St. John the Almsgiver, almost as an aside, to highlight the enduring patience and kindness of St. John, who does not harbor ill thoughts. However, in all the remarkable tales of the saints, I do not know of one that is as profoundly moving as that of the little-known and quickly forgotten monk of Gaza.

Where he was born we know not; of what parents he was born we are ignorant; but we do know that his was a heart full, to overflowing, with the divine charity of Him who came to seek and to save those that were lost.

We don’t know where he was born; we’re not sure who his parents were; but we do know that he had a heart brimming with the divine love of the one who came to find and save those who were lost.

Whilst John the Almsgiver was patriarch of Alexandria, there arrived in that city, an old man of sixty, or thereabouts, in monk's garb. In his cell he had thought over the crimes of that pleasure-loving city, and having read in the Gospel the story of the woman taken in adultery, in the old monk's heart kindled a sudden fire of zeal, which [Pg 157] drove him to Alexandria, that he might save some of those poor women who sold themselves. Arrived in the city, he obtained the names of all the harlots, and then hired himself as a day labourer. Every evening he took his wage, and with it went to one of the unfortunate women, and supped with her, and gave her the rest, and said, "I pay thee this, that thou mayest spend one night without sin." Then he retired into a corner of the room, where she slept, and passed the night in reciting psalms, and praying with many tears for the woman present; and he rejoiced that, by his toil of the day, he had saved her from evil on that one night.

While John the Almsgiver was the patriarch of Alexandria, an old man around sixty, dressed in monk's robes, arrived in the city. He had spent time in his cell reflecting on the sins of that pleasure-seeking city. After reading the story of the woman caught in adultery in the Gospel, a spark of zeal ignited in the old monk's heart, which drove him to Alexandria, hoping to save some of the women who were selling themselves. Once he arrived, he learned the names of all the prostitutes and then took a job as a day laborer. Every evening, he would collect his wages, then visit one of the unfortunate women, share a meal with her, and give her the rest of his earnings, saying, "I’m giving you this so you can spend one night without sin." After that, he would retire to a corner of the room where she slept and spend the night reciting psalms and praying with many tears for her, feeling joy that through his day's work, he had saved her from evil for that one night.

And thus he visited all the harlots in Alexandria, and from each, as he went forth in the morning, he took a solemn promise that she would reveal to none what had taken place, so long as he was alive.

And so he went to all the sex workers in Alexandria, and from each one, as he left in the morning, he made her promise solemnly that she wouldn’t tell anyone what happened as long as he was alive.

Now, considerable scandal arose, and Vitalis was loudly condemned. One said to him, "Monk, take to thyself a wife, and lay aside thy religious garb, that the name of God be not blasphemed through thee." But Vitalis answered, "I will not take to myself a wife, nor will I change my habit. He that will be scandalized, let him be scandalized. What hast thou to do with me? Hath God constituted you to be my judges? Go to, look to yourselves, ye have not to answer for me. There is one Judge and one holy day of judgment, wherein every man shall give an account of his own works."

Now, a major scandal erupted, and Vitalis was loudly criticized. One person said to him, "Monk, get a wife and ditch your religious clothing, so that God's name isn't dishonored because of you." But Vitalis replied, "I will not get a wife, nor will I change my outfit. If anyone is offended, that's on them. What does that have to do with you? Has God made you my judges? Focus on yourselves; you’re not responsible for my actions. There is one Judge and one holy day of judgment, where everyone will have to account for their own deeds."

One of the Defenders of the Church (this was the name of an officer who saw to the order and morals of the clergy and monks,) came to the patriarch John, and told him what he had heard of the abbot Vitalis. But the patriarch closed his ears, and rebuked the accuser, saying, "Remember what were the words of Constantine of pious memory; he said that the crimes of priests ought not to be divulged, [Pg 158] and that if he detected a priest or a monk in wrong-doing, he would draw his purple imperial robe over him, so that none might be scandalized. And when quarrelsome individuals wrote accusations against certain prelates, he formed them into a packet, and cast them into the fire."[38]

One of the Defenders of the Church (that was the title of an officer responsible for the conduct and ethics of the clergy and monks) approached Patriarch John and shared what he had heard about Abbot Vitalis. However, the patriarch ignored him and reprimanded the accuser, saying, "Remember the words of the pious Constantine; he said that the sins of priests should not be revealed, and that if he caught a priest or monk doing wrong, he would cover him with his purple imperial robe so that no one would be scandalized. And when troublesome people sent complaints about certain bishops, he gathered them up and threw them in the fire." [Pg 158][38]

But Vitalis, though he bore without a murmur the shame, the hard speeches, and false accusations that fell to his share, was deeply sensitive for the souls of others, lest through him they should be wounded. Yet he could not relinquish his mission;—the love of God constrained him thereto, and many a poor woman, moved by the tears and prayers of the holy man, deserted her evil courses, and married and settled into ways of steadiness; and many, filled with bitter compunction, fled from that city of temptation, to expiate their offences in the desert. Seeing how great a blessing attended his work, Vitalis persevered in spite of obloquy; but he prayed to God to reveal the truth after his death, that the reproach might be wiped off the monastic garb he wore; but he would not suffer the truth to be known whilst he lived, or the houses of ill-fame would be closed against him, and the prosecution of his mission would be hindered.

But Vitalis, even though he silently endured the shame, harsh words, and false accusations directed at him, was very sensitive to the souls of others, wanting to protect them from harm. However, he couldn't give up his mission; the love of God drove him to continue, and many troubled women, moved by the tears and prayers of the holy man, turned away from their wrong paths, got married, and settled down to stable lives. Many others, filled with regret, fled from that city of temptation to atone for their wrongdoings in the desert. Seeing the great success of his work, Vitalis kept going despite the criticism; he prayed to God that the truth would be revealed after his death so that the shame could be removed from the monastic robe he wore. Yet, he didn’t want the truth to be known while he was alive, as that would close the doors of the brothels to him and hinder his mission.

One morning, very early, as he left a harlot's door, a man came in, and seeing a monk issue forth, he struck him over the head, exclaiming, "How long, rascal, do you outrage Christ by not mending your wicked ways?"

One early morning, as he stepped out from a hooker's door, a man came in and, seeing a monk come out, hit him over the head, shouting, "How long, you scoundrel, will you insult Christ by not changing your sinful ways?"

Then said Vitalis, "Believe me, friend, thou shalt receive from me, a humble monk, such a stroke that all Alexandria shall ring with it." So saying, he went his way to the little chamber where he lodged, by the church of S. Metras, near the Gate of the Sun.

Then Vitalis said, "Believe me, friend, you will receive a blow from me, a humble monk, that will echo throughout all of Alexandria." With that, he went to his small room where he stayed, by the church of S. Metras, near the Gate of the Sun.

What followed is not very clear. But if we put aside some absurd fable which has attached itself to the story, we shall find that it was something like this:—Probably from the unfortunate woman, from whom Vitalis had gone forth, and to whom the man who had smitten him entered, that man heard the truth; then, full of contrition, he rushed forth and proclaimed abroad how he had wronged Vitalis, and how mistaken was the popular opinion concerning him. So a crowd collected, and rolled in the direction of the cell of Vitalis, by the Gate of the Sun. The man foremost of all cried, "Pardon me my violence, Vitalis, thou man of God!" And so the mob broke into the little hovel where he dwelt. Then they saw the despised monk kneeling upright, with his hands clasped, dead and rigid; and before him lay a sheet of paper, whereon were written the words of the Apostle, 1 Cor. iv. 5, "Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart."

What happened next isn't very clear. But if we set aside some ridiculous tale that’s attached to the story, we can see that it went something like this: Probably, from the unfortunate woman that Vitalis had left, and to whom the man who had hurt him went, that man learned the truth. Then, filled with regret, he rushed out and told everyone how he had wronged Vitalis, and how wrong the public opinion about him was. A crowd gathered and moved towards Vitalis's cell by the Gate of the Sun. The man in the front shouted, "Forgive me for my violence, Vitalis, you man of God!" And then the crowd burst into the small hut where he lived. They saw the despised monk kneeling upright, with his hands clasped, dead and stiff; and in front of him lay a sheet of paper with the words of the Apostle written on it, 1 Cor. iv. 5, "Judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes, who will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the heart."

Then, when this was noised abroad, almost the whole city came together, and the patriarch John arrived, and all the clergy, and they took up the body of Vitalis. Thereupon, all those women who had been converted by him, and were married, came forth, bearing lamps and candles, and went before him, beating their breasts and crying, "We have lost our deliverer and instructor!" And they told how, by his urgent prayers and burning zeal for their souls, he had rescued them from a life of misery. But he who had smitten the old monk his death-blow, struck with compunction, renounced his vicious ways, and entered the monastery at Gaza, and lived and died in the cell once occupied by Vitalis. Thus did Vitalis deal him such a blow that all [Pg 160] Alexandria rang with it.

Then, when this news spread, almost the entire city gathered, and Patriarch John arrived along with all the clergy, and they took up Vitalis's body. Then, all the women who had been converted by him and were married came forward, carrying lamps and candles, and went before him, beating their chests and crying, "We have lost our savior and teacher!" They shared how, through his urgent prayers and passionate dedication to their souls, he had saved them from a life of suffering. But the one who had dealt the old monk his fatal blow, feeling remorse, turned away from his sinful life and entered the monastery in Gaza, living and dying in the cell once occupied by Vitalis. Thus, Vitalis struck him with such an impact that all [Pg 160] Alexandria echoed with it.

S. SALVIUS, OF AMIENS, B. C.

(about 615.)

(about 615.)

[Roman Martyrology. There are three bishops, Saints, of this name, one Bishop of Albi, one Bishop of Angoulême, and this one, Bishop of Amiens; they are often confounded by writers.]

[Roman Martyrology. There are three bishops named Saints: one is the Bishop of Albi, another is the Bishop of Angoulême, and the last one is the Bishop of Amiens; authors often confuse them.]

S. Salvius lived as a monk for many years, in what monastery is not known. He was afterwards elected abbot. Being chosen Bishop of Amiens, he ruled the diocese with prudence, but little or nothing is known of his acts. As he died in an ecstasy, a brilliant light is said to have illuminated his cell, and praying with extended arms, he surrendered his soul.

S. Salvius lived as a monk for many years, though the exact monastery is unknown. He was later elected abbot. When he became the Bishop of Amiens, he led the diocese wisely, but not much is known about what he did. It’s said that when he died in a state of ecstasy, a bright light filled his cell, and while praying with his arms stretched out, he surrendered his soul.

S. EGWIN, OF WORCESTER, B. C.

(about 720.)

(approximately 720.)

[The life of S. Egwin was written by his contemporary, S. Brithwald, Archbishop of Canterbury. This original has not descended to us, but a fragment of a somewhat later recension of this life exists; and a still later life, probably an amplification of that by Brithwald. Moreover, S. Egwin is mentioned by Matthew of Westminster, Florence of Worcester; William of Malmesbury also speaks of him in his Acts of the English Bishops.]

The life of S. Egwin was penned by his contemporary, S. Brithwald, Archbishop of Canterbury. The original version hasn't survived, but a fragment of a later revision exists, as well as an even later, likely expanded version by Brithwald. Furthermore, S. Egwin is referenced by Matthew of Westminster and Florence of Worcester, and William of Malmesbury also covers him in his Acts of the English Bishops.

S. Egwin was of the royal blood of the Mercian kings, and was born at Worcester, in the reign of Ethelred and Kenred. He was elected Bishop in 692. By his zeal in rebuking the illicit connexions formed by some of the great men in his diocese, and vehemence in reforming the corrupt morals of all, he stirred up a party against him, and with the connivance of the King, he was expelled his diocese. Egwin, meekly bending to his fate, determined to make a pilgrimage to Rome. According to a popular mediæval legend, he also resolved to expiate at the same time certain sins of his youth, by putting iron fetters on his feet, which were fastened with a lock, and he cast the key into the Avon. As he neared Italy, on a ship from Marseilles, a huge fish floundered upon deck, and was killed and cut open; when, to the surprise of the Saint, in its belly was found the key to his fetters. He accepted this as an expression of the will of heaven, and released his limbs. According to another version of the story, the fish was caught in the Tiber, after S. Egwin had appeared before the Pope in Rome; but William of Malmesbury doubts the whole story as an idle legend.

S. Egwin came from the royal line of the Mercian kings and was born in Worcester during the reigns of Ethelred and Kenred. He was chosen as Bishop in 692. His passionate efforts to condemn the inappropriate relationships formed by some influential figures in his diocese and his strong stance on reforming the widespread corruption led to opposition against him. With the King’s approval, he was removed from his diocese. Accepting his fate with humility, Egwin decided to embark on a pilgrimage to Rome. According to a popular medieval legend, he also aimed to atone for certain sins from his youth by putting iron shackles on his feet, which he locked, throwing the key into the Avon River. As he approached Italy on a ship from Marseilles, a massive fish flopped onto the deck and was killed and opened. To his astonishment, S. Egwin found the key to his shackles inside the fish. He took this as a sign from heaven and freed his legs. In another version of the tale, the fish was caught in the Tiber after S. Egwin had an audience with the Pope in Rome; however, William of Malmesbury is skeptical of the entire story, dismissing it as mere legend.

S. EGWIN, BISHOP OF WORCESTER

After his return, with the assistance of Kenred, King of Mercia, S. Egwin founded the famous abbey of Evesham, under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin. After this he undertook a second journey to Rome, in company with Kenred, and Offa, King of the East Saxons. S. Egwin died on the 30th December, 717, and was buried in the monastery of Evesham. The translation of his relics probably took place on Jan. 11th, on which day many English Martyrologies mark his festival.

After his return, with help from Kenred, King of Mercia, St. Egwin established the well-known abbey of Evesham, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. Following this, he made a second trip to Rome, accompanied by Kenred and Offa, King of the East Saxons. St. Egwin died on December 30, 717, and was buried in the Evesham monastery. His relics were likely moved on January 11, the date many English Martyrologies celebrate his feast day.

FOOTNOTES:

[38] Theodoret, lib. i. c. 11.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Theodoret, vol. 1, ch. 11.


January 12.

S. Arcadius, M., in Africa, circ. a.d. 260.
SS. Satyrus, Cyriacus, Mosentius, MM.
SS. Tigris, P., and Eutropius, MM., a.d. 404.
S. John, B. C. of Ravenna, circ. a.d. 495.
S. Cæsaria, V., at Arles, circ. a.d. 530.
S. Victorinus, Ab., in Spain, a.d. 560.
S. Benedict Biscop, in England, a.d. 703.
SS. XXXVIII, Monks, MM., in Ionia, circ. a.d. 750.
S. Aelred, Ab. of Rievaulx, in Yorkshire, a.d. 1166.

S. Arcadius, M., in Africa, around A.D. 260.
SS. Satyrus, Cyriacus, Mosentius, MM.
SS. Tigris, P., and Eutropius, MM., A.D. 404.
S. John, B. C. of Ravenna, around A.D. 495.
S. Cæsaria, V., at Arles, around A.D. 530.
S. Victorinus, Ab., in Spain, A.D. 560.
S. Benedict Biscop, in England, A.D. 703.
SS. XXXVIII, Monks, MM., in Ionia, around A.D. 750.
S. Aelred, Ab. of Rievaulx, in Yorkshire, A.D. 1166.

S. ARCADIUS, M.

(about a.d. 260.)

(around A.D. 260.)

[Roman Martyrology, those of Bede, Ado, Usuardus, Notker, &c. Authority, a panegyric by S. Zeno, Bishop of Verona, his contemporary.]

[Roman Martyrology, including those of Bede, Ado, Usuardus, Notker, etc. Authority, a tribute by St. Zeno, Bishop of Verona, his contemporary.]

D.

uring a severe outbreak of persecution, in the reign of Gallienus, in the north of Africa, Arcadius, doubting his own constancy, sought refuge in flight, and escaping from Cæsarea, hid himself. As he did not appear at the sacrifices, the Governor ordered his house to be searched. It was found to be deserted, save by a relative of his, whom the soldiers seized, and, at the command of the Governor, detained till Arcadius should surrender himself.

During a severe outbreak of persecution in the reign of Gallienus in North Africa, Arcadius, unsure of his own strength, sought refuge by fleeing. He escaped from Cæsarea and went into hiding. Since he did not show up for the sacrifices, the Governor ordered his house to be searched. It was found to be deserted, except for a relative of his, who was captured by the soldiers and, under the Governor's orders, held until Arcadius turned himself in.

Hearing of this capture, and unwilling that his kinsman should suffer, Arcadius deserted his hiding place, and gave himself up. The Governor, exasperated at his constancy in refusing to adore the gods of the state religion, ordered him to be dismembered, piecemeal and leisurely. First his fingers were taken off, joint by joint; then his toes, then his hands at the wrists, and his feet at the ankles. As he extended his hands to amputation, he prayed, "Thy hands [Pg 163] have made me and fashioned me; O give me understanding that I may keep thy law." Thereupon the judge ordered his tongue to be cut out. He was cast on his back, and his feet were taken off. Then his legs and arms were amputated at the knees and elbows, finally at the thighs and shoulders, so that he was nothing save a human trunk in a pool of blood, with his limbs in little fragments scattered about him. Thus he expired; but the Christians collected the portions of his body, and buried them with the trunk reverently, glorifying God for having given such constancy to his martyr.

Upon hearing about this capture, and not wanting his relative to suffer, Arcadius left his hiding spot and surrendered. The Governor, frustrated by his refusal to worship the state’s gods, ordered him to be slowly and methodically dismembered. First, his fingers were removed, joint by joint; then his toes, followed by his hands at the wrists and his feet at the ankles. As he extended his hands for amputation, he prayed, "Your hands have made and shaped me; O give me understanding that I may keep your law." After that, the judge ordered his tongue to be cut out. He was laid on his back, and his feet were amputated. Then his legs and arms were severed at the knees and elbows, and finally at the thighs and shoulders, until he was left as just a human torso in a pool of blood, with his limbs in small pieces scattered around him. In this way, he died; but the Christians gathered the parts of his body and buried them alongside the trunk, honoring God for granting such steadfastness to his martyr.

In art, represented as a torso; sometimes, for some reason unknown, with a candle in his hand.

In art, he is depicted as a torso; sometimes, for some unknown reason, holding a candle in his hand.

SS. SATYRUS, CYRIACUS, MOSENTIUS, MM.

(DATE UNCERTAIN.)

(DATE UNCONFIRMED.)

[All Martyrologies. Nothing is known for certain of the date of their martyrdoms, or whether they all suffered together.]

[All Martyrologies. We aren't certain when they were martyred or if they all suffered simultaneously.]

S. Satyrus is said to have signed the cross, and breathed on an idol in the street of Achaia (on the Euxine?), and it fell. Wherefore he was executed by decapitation. This is stated in all the Martyrologies, but some say the act was done at Antioch. Of the others, his companions, nothing is known.

S. Satyrus is said to have made the sign of the cross and breathed on an idol in the street of Achaia (on the Euxine?), causing it to fall. Because of this, he was executed by beheading. This is mentioned in all the Martyrologies, though some claim the act took place in Antioch. Nothing is known about his companions.

SS. TIGRIS, P., AND EUTROPIUS, LECTOR, MM.

(a.d. 404.)

(A.D. 404.)

[Roman Martyrology and German Martyrologies. Not commemorated by the Greeks. Authorities: Sozomen, lib. viii. c. 22, 23; Nicephorus Callistus, lib. xiii.; S. John Chrysostom also, in his 12th letter to S. Olympias, speaks of Tigris the priest.]

[Roman Martyrology and German Martyrologies. Not recognized by the Greeks. Sources: Sozomen, book VIII, chapters 22, 23; Nicephorus Callistus, book XIII; Saint John Chrysostom also references Tigris the priest in his 12th letter to Saint Olympias.]

When S. John Chrysostom had incurred the anger of the [Pg 164] Empress Eudoxia, by declaiming against her silver statue set up close to the church of the Eternal Wisdom at Constantinople, by her machinations he was deposed and exiled from the city, and Arsacius was ordained patriarch of Constantinople in his room. But a large company of bishops and priests, and others of the clerical order, refused to recognize the right of Arsacius, and being driven from the churches, held their divine worship in places apart. For the space of two months after his deposition, Chrysostom remained at his post, though he refrained from appearing in public; after that he was obliged to leave, being banished by the Emperor Arcadius. On the very day of his departure the church caught fire, and a strong easterly wind carried the flames to the senate house.[39] The party opposed to S. John Chrysostom immediately spread the report that this fire was the result of a wilful act of incendiarism by the Johannites, or party of the exiled bishop. Socrates, the historian, strongly prejudiced against Chrysostom, distinctly charged them with the act. He says, "On the very day of his departure, some of John's friends set fire to the church," and then he adds, "The severities inflicted on John's friends, even to the extent of capital punishment, on account of this act of incendiarism, by Optatus, the prefect of Constantinople, who being a pagan was, as such, an enemy to the Christians, I ought, I believe, to pass by in silence." There can be no doubt that the fire was purely accidental, and that it was used as a means of endeavouring to excite the people of Constantinople against their favourite Chrysostom, that bold champion of the truth against spiritual wickedness in high places, and the Erastianism of a large party of bishops and clergy, just as before Nero had charged the burning of old Rome on the Christians.

When S. John Chrysostom angered Empress Eudoxia by speaking out against her silver statue near the Church of the Eternal Wisdom in Constantinople, she orchestrated his deposition and exile from the city. Arsacius was appointed as the new patriarch of Constantinople in his place. However, many bishops, priests, and other clergy refused to recognize Arsacius's authority and, ousted from the churches, held their worship in separate locations. For two months after his removal, Chrysostom stayed at his post but did not make public appearances; ultimately, he was forced to leave when Emperor Arcadius exiled him. On the day he departed, the church caught fire, and a strong easterly wind spread the flames to the senate house. The faction opposing S. John Chrysostom quickly claimed that the fire was deliberately set by his supporters, known as the Johannites. Socrates, the historian who had a strong bias against Chrysostom, accused them of the act, stating, "On the very day of his departure, some of John's friends set fire to the church," and added, "The harsh punishments inflicted on John's friends, even to the point of capital punishment, due to this act of arson by Optatus, the prefect of Constantinople, who, being a pagan, was an enemy of Christians, I believe I should remain silent about." There is no doubt that the fire was accidental and that it was used to stir up the citizens of Constantinople against their beloved Chrysostom, a brave defender of truth against spiritual corruption in high places and the Erastianism of many bishops and clergy, much like Nero had previously blamed Christians for the burning of old Rome.

On this false charge some of the most faithful and zealous adherents of Chrysostom suffered, amongst them were the priest Tigris, and the reader Eutropius. The rest shall be quoted from Sozomen, who, belonging to the party of Chrysostom, gives those details which Socrates found it convenient to omit:—"Both parties mutually accused each other of incendiarism; the enemies of John asserted that his partizans had been guilty of the deed from revenge; the other side, that the crime had been perpetrated by their enemies, with intention of burning them in the church. Those citizens who were suspected of attachment to John, were sought out and cast into prison, and compelled to anathematize him. Arsacius was not long after ordained over the Church of Constantinople. Nothing operated so much against him as the persecution carried on against the followers of John. As these latter refused to hold communion, or even to join in prayer with him, and met together in the further parts of the city, he complained to the Emperor of their conduct. The tribune was commanded to attack them with a body of soldiers, and by means of clubs and stones he soon dispersed their assembly. The most distinguished among them in point of rank, and those who were most zealous in their adherence to John, were cast into prison. The soldiers, as is usual on such occasions, went beyond their orders, and stripped the women of their ornaments. Although the whole city was thus filled with trouble and lamentation, the affection of the people for John remained the same. After the popular insurrection had been quelled, the prefect of the city appeared in public, as if to inquire into the cause of the conflagration, and to bring the perpetrators of the deed to punishment; but, being a pagan, he exulted in the destruction of the Church, and ridiculed the calamity.

On this false charge, some of the most loyal and passionate supporters of Chrysostom suffered, including the priest Tigris and the reader Eutropius. The rest will be quoted from Sozomen, who, as part of Chrysostom's faction, provides details that Socrates chose to leave out:—"Both sides accused each other of arson; John's enemies claimed his supporters had committed the act out of revenge, while the other side argued that their rivals had done it with the intent of burning them in the church. Those citizens suspected of supporting John were hunted down, thrown into prison, and forced to denounce him. Arsacius was soon after appointed leader of the Church of Constantinople. Nothing worked against him as much as the persecution of John's followers. Since they refused to partake in communion or even pray with him, gathering instead in the outskirts of the city, he complained to the Emperor about their behavior. The tribune was ordered to confront them with a group of soldiers, and with clubs and stones, he quickly broke up their meeting. The most prominent among them, as well as those most dedicated to John, were thrown into prison. The soldiers went beyond their orders and stripped the women of their jewelry. Although the entire city was filled with trouble and mourning, the people's loyalty to John remained unchanged. After the public unrest was subdued, the city prefect appeared openly, supposedly to investigate the cause of the fire and punish those responsible; however, as a pagan, he took pleasure in the destruction of the Church and mocked the disaster.

"Eutropius, a reader, was required to name the persons [Pg 166] who had set fire to the church; but, although he was scourged severely, although his sides and cheeks were torn with iron nails, and although lighted torches were applied to the most sensitive parts of his body, no confession could be extorted from him, notwithstanding his youth and delicacy of constitution. After having been subjected to these tortures, he was cast into a dungeon, where he soon afterwards expired.

"Eutropius, a reader, was forced to name the people [Pg 166] who had burned down the church; but even though he was severely whipped, his sides and cheeks were torn with iron nails, and lit torches were applied to his most sensitive areas, he still wouldn't confess, despite his youth and fragile health. After enduring these tortures, he was thrown into a dungeon, where he soon after died."

"A dream of Sisinius concerning Eutropius seems worthy of insertion in this history. Sisinius, the Bishop of the Novatians, saw in his sleep a man, tall in stature, and handsome in person, standing near the altar in the Novatian Church of S. Stephen. This man complained of the rarity of goodness among men, and said that he had been searching throughout the city, and found but one who was good, and that one was Eutropius. Astonished at what he had seen, Sisinius made known the dream to the most faithful of his priests, and commanded him to make search for Eutropius, wherever he might be. The priest, rightly conjecturing that this Eutropius could be no other than he who had been so barbarously tortured by the prefect, went from prison to prison in quest of him. At length he found him, and made known to him the dream of the Bishop, and besought him with tears to pray for him. Such are the details we possess concerning Eutropius.

A dream of Sisinius about Eutropius seems worth including in this history. Sisinius, the Bishop of the Novatians, saw in his sleep a tall and handsome man standing near the altar in the Novatian Church of S. Stephen. This man complained about the scarcity of goodness among people and said that he had been searching throughout the city and found only one person who was good, and that person was Eutropius. Shocked by what he had seen, Sisinius shared the dream with his most trusted priest and told him to search for Eutropius wherever he might be. The priest, realizing that this Eutropius could only be the one who had been brutally tortured by the prefect, went from prison to prison looking for him. Eventually, he found him and shared the Bishop's dream, pleading with him in tears to pray for him. These are the details we have about Eutropius.

"Tigris, a priest, was about the same time stripped of his clothes, scourged on the back, bound hand and foot, and stretched on the rack. He was a foreigner, and an eunuch, but not by birth. He was originally a slave in the house of a man of rank, and on account of his faithful services had obtained his freedom. He was afterwards ordained priest, and was distinguished by his moderation and meekness of disposition, and by his charity towards strangers and the poor. Such were the events which took place in Constantinople. [Pg 167] Those who were in power at court procured a law in favour of Arsacius, by which it was enacted that the orthodox were to assemble together in churches only, and that if they seceded from communion with the above-mentioned Bishop, they were to be exiled."

"Tigris, a priest, was stripped of his clothes, whipped on his back, bound hand and foot, and stretched on the rack. He was a foreigner and a eunuch, but not by birth. Originally, he was a slave in the house of a wealthy man, and due to his faithful services, he gained his freedom. He was later ordained as a priest and was known for his moderation, gentle nature, and kindness towards strangers and the poor. These were the events that happened in Constantinople. [Pg 167] Those in power at court pushed for a law favoring Arsacius, which stated that the orthodox could only gather in churches, and if they separated from communion with the aforementioned Bishop, they would be exiled."

S. CÆSARIA, V.

(about a.d. 530.)

(circa A.D. 530.)

[Gallican Martyrologies. Her history from the life of S. Cæsarius of Arles, her brother, by his disciple, Cyprian.]

[Gallican Martyrologies. This is her story from the life of St. Cæsarius of Arles, her brother, written by his disciple, Cyprian.]

S. Cæsaria was the superior of a convent of religious women, erected by her brother, S. Cæsarius, at Arles. When, in 507, the Franks and Burgundians, under Alaric, had been defeated by Clovis, Theodoric invaded the south of Gaul from Italy, and besieged the city, and battered down the convent which had been erected for S. Cæsaria. When tranquillity was re-established, Cæsarius rebuilt the monastery, and called his sister from Marseilles to inhabit it. The rule of S. Cæsaria, drawn up by her brother, exists, and is published by the Bollandists.

S. Cæsaria was the head of a convent of religious women that her brother, S. Cæsarius, had founded in Arles. In 507, after the Franks and Burgundians, led by Alaric, were defeated by Clovis, Theodoric invaded southern Gaul from Italy and laid siege to the city, destroying the convent built for S. Cæsaria. Once peace was restored, Cæsarius rebuilt the monastery and invited his sister from Marseilles to live there. The rule of S. Cæsaria, which was created by her brother, still exists and is published by the Bollandists.

S. BENEDICT BISCOP.

(a.d. 703.)

(A.D. 703.)

[Roman, Benedictine, and Anglican Martyrologies. Life from William of Malmesbury, Bede's Homilies and Ecclesiastical History, Florence of Worcester, Matthew of Westminster. The following account is condensed from the life of S. Benedict Biscop, in Montalembert's Monks of the West, Bk. xiii., c. 2.]

[Roman, Benedictine, and Anglican Martyrologies. Life from William of Malmesbury, Bede's Homilies and Ecclesiastical History, Florence of Worcester, Matthew of Westminster. The following summary is taken from the life of S. Benedict Biscop, in Montalembert's Monks of the West, Bk. xiii., c. 2.]

Benedict was born of the highest Anglo-Saxon nobility, in the year 628. While he was still very young, he held an office in the household of King Oswy. At twenty-five he [Pg 168] gave up secular life, marriage, and his family, restored his lands to the king, and dedicated himself to the service of God. Before he settled in any community he went to Rome, whither he had been long attracted by that desire of praying at the tomb of the Apostles, which became so general among the Anglo-Saxons. He started in company with S. Wilfrid, but the two young Northumbrian nobles separated at Lyons. After his first visit to Rome, Benedict returned thither a second and a third time, having in the meantime assumed the monastic habit in the island of Lerins. Pope Vitalianus, struck with the piety and knowledge of so constant and zealous a pilgrim, assigned to him, as guide and interpreter, that Greek, Theodore, who became Archbishop of Canterbury, and who, when he went to England, transferred the monk of Lerins to be abbot of the principal monastery in Canterbury.

Benedict was born into the highest Anglo-Saxon nobility in 628. While still very young, he held a position in King Oswy's household. At twenty-five, he [Pg 168] gave up his secular life, marriage, and family, returned his lands to the king, and dedicated himself to serving God. Before settling in any community, he went to Rome, drawn by the desire to pray at the tomb of the Apostles, a wish that had become common among the Anglo-Saxons. He started his journey with S. Wilfrid, but the two young Northumbrian nobles parted ways in Lyons. After his first visit to Rome, Benedict returned a second and third time, during which he took on the monastic habit on the island of Lerins. Pope Vitalianus, impressed by the piety and knowledge of such a devoted pilgrim, appointed a Greek named Theodore as his guide and interpreter. Theodore became the Archbishop of Canterbury and, when he went to England, brought the monk from Lerins to be the abbot of the main monastery in Canterbury.

After thus spending two years with the new Archbishop, the abbot Benedict, instead of re-visiting his native district, went for the fourth time to Rome, 671. He was then in the prime of life; but when it is considered what were the difficulties and dangers of such a journey—at such a time—when we remember that a journey from London to Rome then took twice as long, and was a hundred times more dangerous than a journey from London to Australia is now, we are amazed at the energy which induced so many Anglo-Saxon monks, not once only, but many times in their life, to cross the sea and the Alps on their way to Rome. His fourth expedition was undertaken in the interests of literature. He brought back a cargo of books, partly sold, partly given to him; and, in passing by Vienne, the ancient capital of the Gauls, on his return, he brought with him many more which he had deposited there in the charge of his friends. When he returned at length to his native Northumbria, he sought King Egfrid, the son of his former [Pg 169] master, Oswy, then the reigning monarch, and told him all he had done during the twenty years that had passed since he left his country and the royal service. Then, endeavouring to communicate to him the religious ardour with which his own heart was filled, he explained to the King all he had learned at Rome and elsewhere, of ecclesiastical and monastic discipline, showing him the books and relics which he had brought back. Egfrid, who had not yet begun his struggle with Wilfrid, allowed himself to be won by the stories of the pilgrim, for whom he conceived a great affection; and in order that he might apply his experience to the government of a new community, he detached from his own possessions, and presented to Benedict, an estate situated at the mouth of the Wear, a little stream which flows through Durham, and throws itself into the Northern sea, a little south of the Tyne.[40] This gave the name of Wearmouth to the new monastery, which was dedicated to S. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, according to the express wish of Egfrid, in agreement with that of Benedict, as an evidence of his leanings towards Rome.

After spending two years with the new Archbishop, Abbot Benedict, instead of visiting his hometown, made his fourth trip to Rome. He was at the height of his life, but considering the challenges and risks of such a journey—especially back then—when traveling from London to Rome took twice as long and was a hundred times more dangerous than a trip from London to Australia is today, we are impressed by the determination that led so many Anglo-Saxon monks, not just once but many times in their lives, to cross the sea and the Alps to get to Rome. His fourth trip was for the sake of literature. He returned with a load of books, some sold to him, some given as gifts, and on his way back through Vienne, the ancient capital of the Gauls, he picked up many more that he had left there with friends. When he finally returned to his home in Northumbria, he sought out King Egfrid, the son of his former master, Oswy, who was then the reigning king, and told him everything he had done during the twenty years since he left his country and royal service. Trying to share the religious passion that filled his heart, he explained to the King all he had learned in Rome and elsewhere about church and monastic discipline, showing him the books and relics he had brought back. Egfrid, who hadn’t yet begun his conflict with Wilfrid, was charmed by the stories of the traveler, for whom he developed a deep affection; and to use his experience to govern a new community, he presented Benedict with an estate by the mouth of the Wear, a small stream flowing through Durham that empties into the Northern Sea, a little south of the Tyne. This led to the naming of the new monastery as Wearmouth, dedicated to St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, according to the wishes of Egfrid and Benedict, as a sign of his inclination towards Rome.

This foundation was no sooner assured, than the unwearied Benedict took ship again, to seek in France masons to build him a stone church, in the Roman style, for everything that came from Rome was dear to him. The church was carried on with so much energy, that, a year after the first stone was laid, the church was roofed in, and mass was celebrated under one of those stone arches which excited the surprise of the English in the seventh century. He brought glass-makers also from France, for there were none in England; and these foreign workmen, after having put glass into the windows of the church and new monastery, taught their art to the Anglo-Saxons. Animated by a zeal which nothing could discourage, and inspired by intelligent patriotism, [Pg 170] and a sort of passion for beauty in art, which shrank neither from fatigue nor care, he sent to seek beyond the seas all that he could not find in England—all that seemed necessary to him for the ornamentation of his church; and not finding even in France all he wanted, he went for the fifth time to Rome. Even this was not his last visit, for some years later he made a sixth pilgrimage. On both occasions he brought treasures back with him, chiefly books in countless quantities, and of every kind. He was a passionate collector, as has been seen, from his youth. He desired each of his monasteries to possess a great library, which he considered indispensable to the instruction, discipline, and good organization of the community; and reckoned upon the books as the best means of retaining his monks in their cloisters; for much as he loved travelling himself, he did not approve of other monks passing their time on the highways and byways, even under pretext of pilgrimages.

As soon as this foundation was secure, the tireless Benedict set sail again to find masons in France to build him a stone church in the Roman style, since everything from Rome was precious to him. The construction progressed with such energy that, just a year after the first stone was laid, the church was roofed, and mass was celebrated under one of those stone arches that amazed the English in the seventh century. He also brought glassmakers from France, as there were none in England; these foreign artisans, after installing glass in the windows of the church and the new monastery, taught their craft to the Anglo-Saxons. Motivated by unwavering enthusiasm and a keen sense of patriotism, along with a passion for artistic beauty that didn’t shy away from hard work and effort, he sent out to seek everything he couldn’t find in England—all that he deemed necessary for adorning his church. Not finding everything he wanted even in France, he traveled to Rome for the fifth time. This wasn’t his last visit, as he made a sixth pilgrimage a few years later. On both trips, he returned with treasures, mainly countless books of all kinds. He had been a passionate collector since his youth. He wanted each of his monasteries to have a large library, which he thought was essential for the education, discipline, and proper organization of the community; he saw the books as the best way to keep his monks in their cloisters. Even though he loved to travel himself, he didn’t support other monks spending their time on the roads, even if it was under the guise of pilgrimages.

Along with the books he brought a great number of pictures and coloured images. By introducing these images from Rome to Northumberland, Benedict Biscop has written one of the most curious, and, at the same time, forgotten pages in the history of art. The Venerable Bede, who speaks with enthusiasm of the expeditions of his master and friend, leads us to suppose that he brought back with him only portable pictures, but it may be supposed that the abbot of Wearmouth brought back with him both painters and mosaic-workers, to work on the spot at the decoration of his churches. How can it be otherwise explained, how pictures on wood, brought even by water from Rome to England, should have been large enough to cover the walls and arches of the two or three churches of which Bede speaks. However this may be, the result was that the most ignorant of the Christians of Northumbria found, on [Pg 171] entering these new monastic churches, under a material form, the attractive image of the instructions which the monastic missionaries lavished on them. Learned and unlearned could contemplate and study with delight, we are told, here the sweet and attractive form of the new-born Saviour, there the Twelve Apostles surrounding the Blessed Virgin; upon the northern wall all the parables of the Gospels; upon the southern, the visions of the Apocalypse; elsewhere, a series of pictures which marked the harmony between the Old and New Testaments; Isaac carrying the wood for his sacrifice opposite to Jesus bearing His Cross; the brazen serpent opposite Jesus crucified, and so on.[41] All these Bede, who had seen them, describes with great delight.

Along with the books, he brought a large number of pictures and colorful images. By introducing these images from Rome to Northumberland, Benedict Biscop has created one of the most intriguing, yet overlooked chapters in art history. The Venerable Bede, who passionately talks about his master's and friend's journeys, leads us to think that he only brought back portable images, but it’s likely that the abbot of Wearmouth also returned with painters and mosaic artists to decorate his churches on-site. How else can we explain how images on wood, transported by water from Rome to England, were large enough to cover the walls and arches of the few churches mentioned by Bede? Regardless, the outcome was that the most uneducated Christians of Northumbria found, upon entering these new monastic churches, the appealing representation of the teachings that the monastic missionaries shared with them. Both educated and uneducated individuals could admire and learn with joy, as we hear, from the beautiful and captivating image of the newborn Savior here, and the Twelve Apostles surrounding the Blessed Virgin there; on the northern wall, all the parables of the Gospels; on the southern, the visions of the Apocalypse; and elsewhere, a series of pictures illustrating the connection between the Old and New Testaments; Isaac carrying the wood for his sacrifice opposite Jesus bearing His Cross; the bronze serpent across from Jesus crucified, and so forth.[41] All these Bede, who had witnessed them, describes with great pleasure.

After Latin and Greek books, after art, it was the turn of music. On his return from his fifth voyage, Benedict brought back with him from Rome an eminent monk, called John, precentor of S. Peter's, to establish at Wearmouth the music and Roman ceremonies with entire exactitude. As soon as he had arrived at Wearmouth, this learned abbot set out in writing the order of the celebration of all feasts for all the year, of which he soon circulated numerous copies. Then he opened classes, at which he taught, viva voce, the liturgy and ecclesiastical chants. The best singers of the Northumbrian monasteries came to listen to him, and invited him to visit their communities.

After studying Latin and Greek books and exploring art, it was time for music. When Benedict returned from his fifth voyage, he brought back an esteemed monk named John, who was the precentor of St. Peter's in Rome, to establish the music and Roman ceremonies with complete accuracy at Wearmouth. Once he arrived at Wearmouth, this knowledgeable abbot began documenting the celebration order for all the feasts throughout the year, which he quickly shared in many copies. Then he started teaching classes, where he instructed the liturgy and church chants in person. The best singers from the Northumbrian monasteries came to listen to him and invited him to visit their communities.

The passionate zeal of Benedict for the building and decoration of his monastic houses, did not make him forget the more essential interests of his foundations. Before leaving Rome he took care to constitute his community upon the immovable basis of the rule of S. Benedict. He obtained from Pope Agatho a charter which guaranteed the liberty and security of the new monastery of Wearmouth. In order to give Benedict a new mark of sympathy, King Egfrid assigned to him another estate, near to the first. This was the cradle of the monastery of Jarrow, the name of which is inseparably linked with that of Bede. This monastery he dedicated to S. Paul, and appointed one of his most intimate friends and fellow pilgrims, Ceolfrid, abbot of the new foundation.

The passionate dedication of Benedict to the construction and decoration of his monasteries didn’t make him overlook the more fundamental aspects of his foundations. Before leaving Rome, he made sure to establish his community on the solid foundation of the Rule of St. Benedict. He secured a charter from Pope Agatho that guaranteed the freedom and safety of the new monastery at Wearmouth. To show Benedict further support, King Egfrid granted him another estate close to the first one. This became the origin of the monastery at Jarrow, a name forever linked with Bede. He dedicated this monastery to St. Paul and appointed one of his closest friends and fellow travelers, Ceolfrid, as the abbot of this new foundation.

In order to be more at liberty to devote his time to travel, Benedict took a coadjutor in the government of Wearmouth. This new abbot was his nephew, Easterwin, his junior by twenty-two years, and like Biscop, of high birth. The noble youth took pride in following minutely the rule of the house, like any other monk. Thanks to his illustrious biographer, we know what the occupations of a Saxon thane turned monk were in the seventh century. His duties were to thrash and winnow the corn, to milk the goats and cows, to take his turn in the kitchen, the bakehouse, and the garden, always humble and joyous in his obedience. When he became coadjutor, and was invested, in Biscop's absence, with all his authority, the young abbot continued the course of communal life; and when his duties as superior led him out of doors to where the monks laboured in the fields, he set to work along with them, taking the plough or the fan in his own hands, or forging iron upon the anvil. He was robust as well as young and handsome; but his look was infinitely gentle, and his conversation full of amiability. When he was compelled to reprove a fault, it was done with such tender sadness that the culprit felt himself incapable of any new offence which should bring a cloud over the benign brightness of that beloved face. His table was served with the same provisions as that of the monks; and he slept in the general dormitory, which he left only five days before his death, being then hopelessly ill, to prepare himself in a more solitary place, for the last [Pg 173] struggle. When he felt his end approaching, he had still strength enough left to go down into the garden; and, seating himself there, he called to him all his brethren, who wept the anticipated loss of such a father. Then, with the tenderness which was natural to him, he gave to each of them a last kiss. The following night (March 7th, 686) he died, aged thirty-six, whilst the monks were singing matins. When Benedict returned from his last expedition to Rome he found his benefactor, King Egfrid, and his nephew, Easterwin, both dead, along with a great number of his monks, carried off by one of the epidemics then so frequent. The only survivors at Jarrow were the abbot and one little scholar, whose fame was destined to eclipse that of all the Saxon Saints and kings, who are scarcely known to posterity except by his pen.[42]

To have more freedom to travel, Benedict appointed a coadjutor to help govern Wearmouth. This new abbot was his nephew, Easterwin, who was twenty-two years younger and, like Biscop, came from a noble family. The young noble took great pride in following the house rules closely, just like any other monk. Thanks to his well-known biographer, we know what a Saxon thane turned monk did in the seventh century. His tasks included threshing and winnowing grain, milking the goats and cows, taking turns in the kitchen, bakehouse, and garden, all while remaining humble and cheerful in his obedience. When he became coadjutor and took on Biscop's authority in his absence, the young abbot continued to live communally. Whenever his role as superior took him outside to where the monks worked in the fields, he joined in, taking the plow or winnowing fork in his hands, or forging iron at the anvil. He was strong, young, and handsome, but had an incredibly gentle demeanor, and his conversation was always friendly. When he had to correct someone, it was done with such tender sadness that the offender felt incapable of committing any further wrongdoing that could dim the brightness of that beloved face. His meals were the same as those served to the monks, and he slept in the common dormitory, only leaving it five days before his death when he was hopelessly ill, to prepare himself in seclusion for the final struggle. When he sensed his end was near, he still had enough strength to go into the garden. There, he sat down and called all his brothers, who wept at the thought of losing such a father. Then, with his natural tenderness, he shared a final kiss with each of them. The following night (March 7th, 686), he passed away at the age of thirty-six while the monks were singing matins. When Benedict returned from his last trip to Rome, he found that both his benefactor, King Egfrid, and his nephew, Easterwin, had died, along with many of his monks, victims of one of the epidemics that were common at the time. The only survivors at Jarrow were the abbot and a young scholar, whose future fame would surpass that of all the Saxon saints and kings, known to posterity mainly through his writings.[42]

Benedict Biscop did not lose courage, but promptly collected new subjects under his sway, recommenced and pursued, with his habitual energy, the decoration of his two churches of S. Peter and S. Paul. The monks had already chosen as successor to Easterwin a deacon named Sigfried, a learned and virtuous man, but affected with lung disease, and the first of the English in whom history indicates a malady so general and so fatal to their race.

Benedict Biscop didn’t lose heart. Instead, he quickly gathered new followers and resumed his usual energetic efforts to decorate his two churches, S. Peter and S. Paul. The monks had already selected a deacon named Sigfried, a knowledgeable and virtuous man, as Easterwin’s successor. However, he suffered from a lung disease, which was the first instance in English history indicating a condition so widespread and deadly among their people.

Benedict's own turn was, however, soon to come. God preserved his life to purify him, and put his patience to a long and cruel trial, before calling him to his eternal recompense. After having devoted the first thirteen years of his abbacy to the laborious and wandering life so dear to him, and to those distant expeditions that produced so many fruits for his order and his country, he was stricken with a cruel disease, which lasted for three years, and paralysed all his members one after the other. Though kept to his bed by his infirmity, and unable to follow his brethren to the choir, he, notwithstanding, continued to celebrate each service, both day and night, with certain of the monks, mingling his feeble voice with theirs. At night his sleepless hours were consoled by the reading of the Gospels, which was kept up without interruption by a succession of priests. Often, too, he collected the monks and novices round his couch, addressing to them urgent and solemn counsels, and among other things begging them to preserve the great library which he had brought from Rome, and not to allow it to be spoiled or dispersed; but above all, to keep faithfully the rules which, after a careful study of the seventeen principal monasteries which he had visited during his journeys, he had collected for them. He also dwelt much upon the injunction he had already often repeated, that they should pay no regard to high birth in their choice of an abbot, but look simply to his life and doctrine. "If I had to choose between two evils," said he, "I should prefer to see the spot on which I have established our dear monastery fall back into eternal solitude, rather than to be succeeded here by my own brother, who, we all know, is not in the good way."

Benedict's moment was soon coming. God kept him alive to refine him and put his patience through a long and harsh trial before calling him to his eternal reward. After dedicating the first thirteen years of his abbacy to the hardworking and wandering life he cherished, and to the long journeys that bore much fruit for his order and his country, he was struck by a severe illness that lasted three years, slowly paralyzing each part of his body one after the other. Even though he was confined to his bed and couldn’t join his brothers in the choir, he continued to celebrate each service, day and night, with some of the monks, blending his weak voice with theirs. During the sleepless nights, he found comfort in reading the Gospels, which was continuously upheld by a rotation of priests. He often gathered the monks and novices around his bed, offering them urgent and serious advice, including a plea to protect the great library he had brought from Rome and ensure it wasn’t damaged or scattered. Above all, he urged them to uphold the rules he had carefully compiled after studying the seventeen main monasteries he had visited on his journeys. He also emphasized the instruction he had repeated many times: that when choosing an abbot, they should disregard noble lineage and focus solely on character and teachings. "If I had to choose between two evils," he said, "I would rather see the place where I established our beloved monastery fall back into eternal solitude than be succeeded by my own brother, who, as we all know, is not on the right path."

The strength of the abbot, and at the same time that of his poor coadjutor, was by this time so exhausted by their respective diseases, that they both perceived that they must die, and desired to see each other for the last time before departing from this world. In order that the wish of these two tender friends should be accomplished, it was necessary to bring the dying coadjutor to the bed of the abbot. His head was placed on the same pillow; but they were both so feeble that they could not even embrace each other, and the help of brotherly hands was necessary to join their lips. [Pg 175] All the monks assembled in chapter round this bed of suffering and love; and the two aged Saints, having pointed out among them a successor, approved by all, breathed together, with a short interval between, their last breath. Thus died, at the age of sixty-two, S. Benedict of England, a worthy rival of the great patriarch of the monks of the West, whose robe and name he bore.

The strength of the abbot, and that of his poor coadjutor, was so worn down by their illnesses that they both realized they were close to death and wanted to see each other one last time before leaving this world. To fulfill the wish of these two dear friends, the dying coadjutor had to be brought to the abbot's bedside. Their heads rested on the same pillow, but they were both too weak to embrace each other, so they needed the help of others to bring their lips together. [Pg 175] All the monks gathered around this bed of suffering and love; and the two aged Saints, having identified a successor among them who was approved by all, breathed their last breaths together, with a brief pause in between. Thus died, at the age of sixty-two, S. Benedict of England, a worthy rival of the great patriarch of the monks of the West, whose robe and name he carried.

SS. XXXVIII MONKS, IN IONIA.

(about 750.)

(about 750.)

[The account of their martyrdom was written by Theosterictus, a confessor in the same Iconoclastic persecution.]

[The account of their martyrdom was documented by Theosterictus, a witness who lived through the same Iconoclastic persecution.]

In the horrible persecution of the orthodox by Constantine Copronymus, on the subject of the images, concerning which more shall be said elsewhere, the blessed martyr Stephen the younger, Archimandrite of Auxentia, was in prison, when a monk, Theosterictus by name,[43] was admitted to him, with his nose cut off, and his cheeks burnt with pitch; he came from the monastery of Peleceta, and related to the abbot how, on the Wednesday in Holy Week, as the unbloody Sacrifice was being offered in the monastery church, a band of soldiers, by command of the heretical Emperor, broke into the sacred building and interrupted the mysteries. Thirty-eight monks were chained, the rest were mutilated, their noses cut off, and their beards steeped in tar, and then fired. Then the soldiers set the whole convent in flames. The thirty-eight were carried off to the borders of Ephesus, and thrust into the furnace of an old bath; the openings were then closed, and they were suffocated therein.

In the terrible persecution of the orthodox by Constantine Copronymus regarding the issue of images, which will be discussed in more detail later, the blessed martyr Stephen the Younger, Archimandrite of Auxentia, was in prison when a monk named Theosterictus was brought to him. Theosterictus had his nose cut off and his cheeks burned with pitch; he came from the monastery of Peleceta and told the abbot how, on the Wednesday of Holy Week, while the unbloody Sacrifice was being offered in the monastery church, a group of soldiers, acting on the orders of the heretical Emperor, burst into the sacred building and interrupted the service. Thirty-eight monks were chained, while the others were mutilated—with their noses cut off and their beards soaked in tar and then set on fire. After that, the soldiers burned down the whole convent. The thirty-eight were taken to the outskirts of Ephesus and thrown into an old bathhouse furnace; the openings were then sealed, and they suffocated inside.

FOOTNOTES:

[39] Socrates, Eccl. Hist., lib. vi. c. 18.

[39] Socrates, Eccl. Hist., book vi. ch. 18.

[40] Monk-Wearmouth on the north bank of the river.

[40] Monk-Wearmouth on the north side of the river.

[41] Bede: Vitæ Abbt. in Wiramuth, c. 6.

[41] Bede: Lives of the Abbots. in Wiramuth, c. 6.

[42] This is Bede, who describes, further on, how the abbot and that little boy celebrated alone, and in great sadness, the whole psalms of the monastic service, with no little labour, until new monks arrived.

[42] This is Bede, who goes on to describe how the abbot and that young boy celebrated the entire psalms of the monastic service alone and with much sadness, putting in considerable effort, until new monks showed up.

[43] Not to be confused with Theosterictus, disciple of the abbot S. Nicetas, who writes this account.

[43] Not to be mistaken for Theosterictus, the disciple of Abbot S. Nicetas, who is writing this account.

S. AELRED, AB. OF RIEVAULX.

(a.d. 1166.)

(A.D. 1166.)

[Authorities: His life in Capgrave, and his own writings, still extant.]

[Sources: His life in Capgrave, along with his existing writings.]

He was of noble descent, and was born in the north of England, in 1109. Being educated in learning and piety, he was invited by David, the pious King of Scotland, to his court, made master of his household, and highly esteemed both by him and the courtiers. His virtue shone with bright lustre in the world, particularly his meekness, which Christ declared to be his favourite virtue, and the distinguishing mark of his true disciples. The following is a memorable instance to what a degree S. Aelred possessed this virtue:—A certain person of quality having insulted and reproached him in the presence of the King, Aelred heard him out with patience, and thanked him for his charity and sincerity, in telling him his faults. This behaviour had such an influence on his adversary that it made him ask his pardon on the spot. Another time, whilst he was speaking on a certain matter, one interrupted him with very harsh reviling expressions: the servant of God heard him with tranquility, and afterward resumed his discourse with the same calmness and presence of mind as before. He desired ardently to devote himself entirely to God, by forsaking the world; but the charms of friendship detained him some time longer in it, and were fetters to his soul; reflecting notwithstanding that he must sooner or later be separated by death from those he loved most, he condemned his own cowardice, and broke at once those bands of friendship, which were more agreeable to him than all other sweets of life. To relinquish entirely all his worldly engagements, he left Scotland, and embraced the austere Cistercian order, at Rievaulx, in Yorkshire, where Walter de l'Especke had founded a monastery in 1122. At the age of twenty-four, in 1133, he became a monk under the first abbot, William, a disciple of S. Bernard.

He came from a noble family and was born in northern England in 1109. Educated in knowledge and faith, he was invited by David, the devout King of Scotland, to his court, where he became the master of his household and was highly regarded by both the king and the courtiers. His virtue stood out brightly in the world, especially his meekness, which Christ said was His favorite virtue and a hallmark of His true followers. Here’s a memorable example of how much S. Aelred embodied this virtue: A certain nobleman insulted and criticized him in front of the King. Aelred listened patiently and thanked him for his honesty in pointing out his mistakes. This response affected his adversary so much that he immediately asked for forgiveness. On another occasion, while discussing a topic, someone interrupted him with harsh insults. The servant of God listened calmly and then resumed his speech with the same composure as before. He passionately wanted to completely devote himself to God by leaving the world behind, but the ties of friendship kept him there a bit longer and felt like chains on his soul. Still, knowing that he would eventually be separated by death from those he loved most, he condemned his own cowardice and severed those bonds of friendship, which were more pleasing to him than any other joys in life. To fully abandon all his worldly commitments, he left Scotland and joined the strict Cistercian order at Rievaulx in Yorkshire, where Walter de l'Especke had established a monastery in 1122. At the age of twenty-four, in 1133, he became a monk under the first abbot, William, a disciple of S. Bernard.

S. AELRED, ABBOT OF RIEVAULX.

In spite of the delicacy of his body he set himself cheerfully to practise the greatest austerities, and employed much of his time in prayer and reading. His heart turned with great ardour to the love of God, and this made him feel all his mortifications sweet and light. "Thy yoke doth not oppress, but raiseth the soul; thy burden hath wings, not weight," said he. He speaks of divine charity with love, and by his frequent ejaculations on the subject, it seems to have been the sweet consolation of his soul. "May thy voice (says he) sound in my ears, O Good Jesus, that my heart may learn how to love thee, that my mind may love thee, that the interior powers, the bowels of my soul, and very marrow of my heart may love thee, and that my affections may embrace thee, my only true good, my sweet and delightful joy! O my God! He who loves thee possesses thee; and he possesses thee in proportion as he loves, because thou art love itself. This is that abundance with which thy beloved are inebriated, dissolved to themselves, that they may live into thee, by loving thee." He had been much delighted in his youth with reading Cicero; but after his conversion found that author, and all other reading, tedious and bitter, which was not sweetened with the honey of the holy name of Jesus, and seasoned with the word of God, as he says in the preface to his book On Spiritual Friendship. He was much edified with the very looks of a holy monk, called Simon, who had despised high birth, an ample fortune, and all the advantages of mind and body, to serve God in that penitential state. This monk went and came as one deaf and dumb, always recollected in God; and was such a lover of silence, that he would scarce speak a few words to the prior on necessary occasions. His silence however was sweet, agreeable, and full of edification. Our [Pg 178] Saint says of him, "The very sight of his humility stifled my pride, and made me blush at the want of mortification in my looks." This holy monk, having served God eight years in perfect fidelity, died in 1142, in wonderful peace, repeating with his last breath, "I will sing eternally, O Lord, thy mercy, thy mercy, thy mercy!"

Despite the fragility of his body, he cheerfully committed himself to practicing the hardest forms of self-discipline and spent much of his time in prayer and reading. His heart was filled with deep love for God, making all his sacrifices feel sweet and light. "Your yoke doesn’t weigh down; it lifts the soul; your burden has wings, not weight," he said. He spoke of divine love with affection, and his frequent exclamations on the topic showed it was the sweet comfort of his soul. "May your voice," he said, "ring in my ears, O Good Jesus, so my heart can learn to love you, so my mind can love you, so the depths of my soul and the very marrow of my heart can love you, and so my feelings can embrace you, my only true good, my sweet and delightful joy! O my God! He who loves you possesses you; and he possesses you in proportion to his love, because you are love itself. This is the abundance that inebriates your beloved, dissolving them into you, as they live by loving you." In his youth, he enjoyed reading Cicero, but after his conversion, he found that author—and all other reading—tedious and bitter unless it was sweetened with the honey of the holy name of Jesus and seasoned with the word of God, as he mentions in the preface to his book On Spiritual Friendship. He was greatly inspired by the mere presence of a holy monk named Simon, who gave up noble birth, wealth, and all advantages of mind and body to serve God in a life of penance. This monk moved through life as if he were deaf and mute, always focused on God; he loved silence so much that he barely spoke a few words to the prior when necessary. However, his silence was sweet, pleasant, and deeply edifying. Our [Pg 178] Saint said of him, "The sight of his humility crushed my pride and made me ashamed of my lack of self-discipline in my appearance." This holy monk, after serving God faithfully for eight years, died in 1142 in remarkable peace, repeating with his last breath, "I will sing forever, O Lord, your mercy, your mercy, your mercy!"

S. Aelred, much against his inclination, was made abbot of a new monastery of his order, founded by William, Earl of Lincoln, at Revesby, in Lincolnshire, in 1142, and after, in 1143, of Rievaulx, where he governed three hundred monks. Describing their life, he says that they drank nothing but water, ate little, laboured hard, slept little, and on hard boards; never spoke, except to their superiors on necessary occasions; and loved prayer.

S. Aelred, despite his reluctance, was appointed abbot of a new monastery of his order, established by William, Earl of Lincoln, at Revesby in Lincolnshire, in 1142. Then, in 1143, he became the abbot of Rievaulx, where he oversaw three hundred monks. Describing their life, he notes that they drank only water, ate very little, worked hard, slept little, and rested on hard boards; they only spoke to their superiors when necessary and had a deep love for prayer.

S. Odilo, Jan. 1, p. 20. S. Odilo, Jan. 1, p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.


January 13.

The Octave of the Epiphany.

The Octave of Epiphany.

S. Potitus, M., a.d. 166.
SS. Hermylus and Stratonicus, MM., at Belgrade, a.d. 315.
S. Glaphyra, V., at Amasia, circ. a.d. 324.
S. Agricius, B. of Trèves, circ. a.d. 335.
S. Hilary, B. of Poictiers, a.d. 368.
S. Virentius, P., in Burgundy, a.d. 400.
S. Kentigern, B. of Glasgow, a.d. 601.
B. Berno, Ab. of Cluny, a.d. 920.
S. Heldemar, H., in Artois, a.d. 1097.
B. Gotfried, of Kappenberg, a.d. 1127.
B. Jutta, W. and Recluse, at Huy, in Belgium, a.d. 1228.
B. Veronica, V. at Milan, a.d. 1497.

S. Potitus, M., A.D. 166.
SS. Hermylus and Stratonicus, MM., in Belgrade, A.D. 315.
S. Glaphyra, V., in Amasia, around A.D. 324.
S. Agricius, Bishop of Trèves, around A.D. 335.
S. Hilary, Bishop of Poitiers, A.D. 368.
S. Virentius, Priest, in Burgundy, A.D. 400.
S. Kentigern, Bishop of Glasgow, A.D. 601.
B. Berno, Abbot of Cluny, A.D. 920.
S. Heldemar, H., in Artois, A.D. 1097.
B. Gotfried, of Kappenberg, A.D. 1127.
B. Jutta, W. and Recluse, in Huy, Belgium, A.D. 1228.
B. Veronica, V. in Milan, A.D. 1497.

SS. HERMYLUS AND STRATONICUS, MM., AT BELGRADE.

(a.d. 315.)

(a.d. 315.)

[Greek Menæa and Menologium. The Acts in Metaphrastes are compiled from the original genuine Acts, and may be trusted.]

[Greek Menæa and Menologium. The Acts in Metaphrastes are gathered from the original authentic Acts and can be trusted.]

W.

hen Licinius was in Mysia he sought out the Christians, to punish them with death, being moved thereto by his great hatred to the religion of Christ, which Constantine protected. Socrates says, in his "Ecclesiastical History," that Licinius hated the Christians; and that, although for a while, from dread of Constantine, he avoided open persecution, yet he managed to plot against them covertly, and at length proceeded to acts of undisguised malevolence. The persecution, however, was local, not extending beyond those districts where Licinius himself was, but these and other public outrages could not long remain concealed from Constantine. By [Pg 180] this perfidy he drew upon himself the Emperor Constantine's heaviest displeasure; and the pretended treaty of friendship having been so flagrantly violated, it was not long before they took up arms against each other.[44]

When Licinius was in Mysia, he sought out Christians to execute them, driven by his deep hatred for the religion of Christ, which Constantine defended. Socrates mentions in his "Ecclesiastical History" that Licinius despised Christians; and although he initially avoided open persecution out of fear of Constantine, he secretly plotted against them and eventually committed acts of overt wickedness. However, the persecution was limited to the areas where Licinius was present, but these and other public acts of violence couldn't stay hidden from Constantine for long. By this betrayal, he earned Emperor Constantine's utmost anger; and after so blatantly violating their supposed treaty of friendship, it wasn’t long before they went to war with each other.[Pg 180]

When Licinius was at Sigidunum (Belgrade), on the Danube, a deacon, named Hermylus, was denounced to him as a despiser of the gods of Rome. The Emperor ordered him to be brought before him. The order was obeyed.

When Licinius was in Sigidunum (Belgrade), on the Danube, a deacon named Hermylus was reported to him as someone who scorned the gods of Rome. The Emperor commanded that he be brought to him. The command was followed.

Then the Emperor said, "Answer me, and tell me openly, dost thou confess thyself to be a Christian?"

Then the Emperor said, "Tell me honestly, do you admit that you are a Christian?"

"Not only do I acknowledge myself to be a Christian, but to be consecrated a deacon to the service of God."

"Not only do I recognize myself as a Christian, but I am also dedicated to serving God as a deacon."

"Well then, be deacon in the service of the gods," said Licinius.

"Well then, be a deacon in the service of the gods," said Licinius.

"Thou must be deaf, Emperor! I said that I served God the all-seeing, not these blind stocks."

"You must be deaf, Emperor! I said that I serve God the all-seeing, not these blind fools."

Licinius ordered the deacon to be smitten on the cheeks, and said, "Not so glib with thy tongue, Hermylus. Honour the Emperor, sacrifice to the gods, and save thy life."

Licinius ordered the deacon to be struck on the cheeks and said, "Don't be so talkative, Hermylus. Respect the Emperor, make sacrifices to the gods, and save your life."

Then Hermylus cried out with a loud voice, "Thou shalt endure torments without end, from the hand of God, because thou dost adore vain idols, and seekest to destroy those who serve the living God, as though envious of their superiority."

Then Hermylus shouted loudly, "You will suffer endless torment at the hands of God because you worship false idols and try to destroy those who serve the living God, as if you're jealous of their greatness."

Then the martyr was taken back to prison. And after three days he was again brought forth, and when Licinius had mounted the tribunal, he said, "Well now, Hermylus, art thou prepared to abandon this folly and escape what is in store for thee?"

Then the martyr was taken back to prison. After three days, he was brought out again, and when Licinius took his seat on the tribunal, he said, "So, Hermylus, are you ready to give up this foolishness and avoid what’s coming for you?"

But the deacon answered, "I am ready to endure. There is one God in heaven to whom I live, and to whom I am ready to die. He will succour me."

But the deacon replied, "I am ready to endure. There is one God in heaven whom I serve, and for whom I am ready to die. He will help me."

"We shall soon see what His succour is worth," said the Emperor; and ordered him to be beaten. Then six men cast him on the ground and stripped him, and scourged him. But Hermylus cried, "O Lord my God, who before Pilate enduredst the scourge, strengthen me suffering for Thee, that I may finish my course, and that, being made partaker in Thy sufferings, I maybe made also to partake in Thy glory."

"We'll soon find out what His help is worth," said the Emperor; and he ordered him to be beaten. Then six men threw him to the ground, stripped him, and whipped him. But Hermylus cried, "O Lord my God, who endured the scourge before Pilate, give me strength to suffer for You, so that I can finish my journey, and that, by sharing in Your sufferings, I might also share in Your glory."

Then there was heard a voice from heaven, saying, "Verily, verily, Hermylus, in three days shalt thou receive a glorious reward!" Hearing this, the martyr was filled with boldness, and a great fear fell on all around. Then Licinius hastily remitted the deacon to prison. Now the jailor's name was Stratonicus, and he was a disciple, but secretly, like Nicodemus, not having great boldness, and he comforted Hermylus in the dungeon as well as he could, for he was also his personal friend.

Then a voice was heard from heaven, saying, "Truly, truly, Hermylus, in three days you will receive a glorious reward!" Upon hearing this, the martyr felt a surge of courage, and a great fear fell on everyone around. Then Licinius quickly sent the deacon back to prison. The jailer’s name was Stratonicus, and he was a follower, but secretly, like Nicodemus, lacking much courage, and he comforted Hermylus in the dungeon as best as he could, for he was also his personal friend.

On the morrow, the Emperor ordered the brave soldier of Christ to be led forth again, and beaten on the stomach, as his back was one great wound, and the instrument wherewith he was to be beaten was a willow rod, twisted and knotted into a triangle, and this, say the Acts, was a most excruciating torture, for the angles and knots cut like knives into the flesh. But as he bore this with unflinching constancy, the tyrant commanded that his belly should be torn with little iron hooks. Then Stratonicus, the jailor, unable to bear the sight of his friend's sufferings, covered his face with his hands and burst into tears. Seeing this, the soldiers who stood by jeered him, and called the attention of the Emperor to the agitation of the jailor. Then Stratonicus, mustering up all his courage, cast himself before Licinius, and cried, "Sire! I am a Christian, I believe in God, the maker of heaven and earth." Then Licinius ordered him to be scourged. And Stratonicus, looking piteously at his friend, said, "Hermylus, pray for [Pg 182] me to Christ, that I may be able to endure!"

The next day, the Emperor had the brave soldier of Christ brought out again and beaten on the stomach, since his back was already covered in wounds. He was struck with a willow rod that was twisted and knotted into a triangle, and this, according to the Acts, was a terrible torture because the angles and knots dug into his flesh like knives. But as he endured this pain with unwavering strength, the tyrant ordered that his belly be torn with small iron hooks. Then Stratonicus, the jailer, unable to watch his friend's suffering, covered his face with his hands and broke down in tears. Seeing this, the soldiers around him mocked him and pointed out to the Emperor how upset the jailer was. Gathering all his courage, Stratonicus threw himself at Licinius's feet and exclaimed, "Sir! I am a Christian, I believe in God, the creator of heaven and earth." Licinius then commanded that he be whipped. Looking sadly at his friend, Stratonicus said, "Hermylus, please pray for me to Christ, that I may be able to endure!"

And when Licinius saw that Stratonicus was covered with wounds, he bade the executioners desist, and he remitted the jailor and the prisoner to the same dungeon. But on the morrow, finding Stratonicus resolute, he ordered him and Hermylus to be drowned in the Danube. Then they were tied up in nets and cast into the river. Three days after their bodies were washed up, and were buried by the Christians.

And when Licinius saw that Stratonicus was covered in wounds, he told the executioners to stop, and he sent both the jailer and the prisoner back to the same dungeon. But the next day, finding Stratonicus determined, he ordered that he and Hermylus be drowned in the Danube. They were then tied up in nets and thrown into the river. Three days later, their bodies were washed up and buried by the Christians.

S. HILARY, B. D. OF POICTIERS.

(a.d. 368.)

(A.D. 368.)

[In the Roman Missal, before 1435, there was no mention of S. Hilary; in the reformed Breviary of Cardinal Quignon, published by authority of Pope Paul III., S. Hilary was commemorated on Jan. 31st, the same day as that on which he was noted in the York Calendar, because Jan. 13th is the Octave of the Epiphany. Afterwards, however, the commemoration of S. Hilary was fixed for Jan. 14th, his name being inserted in the Martyrology on the 13th; but with this clause, "His festival is, however, to be celebrated on the morrow," so as not to interfere with the Octave of the Epiphany. The Sarum, Dominican, Belgian, and some of the German Calendars mark the 13th as the feast of S. Hilary. The Anglican Calendar also notes his name on this day. The Bollandists give his life on this day, though in the Roman offices the commemoration is on the morrow. His own writings, and the histories of his age, contain all the materials for his life.]

Before 1435, the Roman Missal didn’t mention St. Hilary. In the revised Breviary by Cardinal Quignon, which was approved by Pope Paul III, St. Hilary was commemorated on January 31, the same day noted in the York Calendar, since January 13 is the Octave of the Epiphany. However, later on, the commemoration of St. Hilary was moved to January 14, and his name was added to the Martyrology on the 13th with the note, "His festival is to be celebrated the next day," to avoid conflicting with the Octave of the Epiphany. The Sarum, Dominican, Belgian, and some German Calendars celebrate St. Hilary’s feast day on the 13th, and the Anglican Calendar also recognizes his name on this date. The Bollandists document his life on this day, although in Roman offices, the commemoration occurs the following day. His writings and the histories of his time provide all the information about his life.

S. Hilary was born at Poictiers in Gaul. There is some reason to believe that his family was illustrious in that country. His parents were pagans, and he was brought up in idolatry. He gives an account of his conversion to the faith of Christ in his book "On the Trinity." He was married before his conversion; and his wife, by whom he had a daughter, named Apra, was yet living when he was chosen Bishop of Poictiers, about the year 353; but from the time of his ordination he lived in perpetual continence. It is [Pg 183] probable that S. Hilary was elected Bishop from the rank of a layman, as was often the case in the early ages, and received all orders by accumulation. He soon became renowned in Gaul as a preacher; and S. Martin, then a young man, was attracted by his name, and lived for a time at Poictiers as his disciple.

S. Hilary was born in Poitiers, Gaul. There’s reason to believe that his family was prominent in that region. His parents were pagans, and he was raised in idolatry. He explains his conversion to Christianity in his book "On the Trinity." He was married before his conversion, and his wife, with whom he had a daughter named Apra, was still alive when he was chosen Bishop of Poitiers around the year 353; however, after his ordination, he lived a life of complete celibacy. It is [Pg 183] likely that S. Hilary was elected Bishop while still a layman, as was common in the early church, and received all church orders at once. He quickly became well-known in Gaul as a preacher; and S. Martin, who was then a young man, was drawn to his reputation and spent some time in Poitiers as his disciple.

Immediately after the Arian Council at Milan, in a.d. 355, which had condemned S. Athanasius, and had prevailed on the Emperor Constantius to banish all the Bishops who adhered to him, S. Hilary wrote to the Emperor, entreating him to stop the persecution, to recall the Catholic Bishops, and forbid secular judges to interfere in the affairs of the Church. This remonstrance had no effect; but he had the satisfaction of seeing the Gallican Bishops remain firm during those days of trial. Saturninus, Bishop of Arles, alone united with Ursacius and Valens, two Illyrian Bishops, to vex the Catholics. They held an Arian synod at Béziers in Languedoc, at which Saturninus himself presided. S. Hilary there made a noble confession of the Nicene Faith, and refuted the heresy of Arius; but the party of Saturninus, reinforced by Bishops from the neighbouring countries, was too strong for him, and he was condemned and deposed; and immediately afterwards the Emperor Constantius banished him into Phrygia. He left Gaul early in a.d. 356, in company with Rhodanus, Bishop of Toulouse, whom God called from those evils to His kingdom, soon after their arrival in Phrygia.

Immediately after the Arian Council at Milan, in AD 355, which had condemned St. Athanasius and convinced Emperor Constantius to exile all the Bishops who supported him, St. Hilary wrote to the Emperor, pleading with him to end the persecution, bring back the Catholic Bishops, and prevent secular judges from interfering in Church matters. This appeal had no impact; however, he was pleased to see the Gallican Bishops stay strong during that challenging time. Saturninus, Bishop of Arles, was the only one to join forces with Ursacius and Valens, two Bishops from Illyria, to trouble the Catholics. They held an Arian synod at Béziers in Languedoc, where Saturninus himself was in charge. St. Hilary made a brave declaration of the Nicene Faith and countered the heresy of Arius there; but Saturninus's faction, bolstered by Bishops from nearby regions, was too powerful for him, leading to his condemnation and removal. Shortly after, Emperor Constantius exiled him to Phrygia. He left Gaul early in A.D. 356, accompanied by Rhodanus, Bishop of Toulouse, who God took from those troubles to His kingdom soon after they reached Phrygia.

His departure was followed by a cruel persecution of the Gallican clergy; but nothing could daunt their constancy, or prevail on them to communicate with the enemies of S. Hilary and the Nicene Faith, or to fill up his see, which in the eye of the Church was not vacant. The priests and deacons of Toulouse were severely beaten, and their church profaned. In a.d. 357 the Bishops wrote a letter [Pg 184] to S. Hilary assuring him of their fidelity and firmness. About the same time S. Hilary received a letter from Apra, his only daughter, informing him that she had been asked in marriage by a young man. She was then about thirteen or fourteen years of age. He immediately wrote to her, entreating her to set her thoughts on the more precious rewards which the Lord Jesus has promised to those virgins who devote themselves wholly to their Heavenly Spouse, and are not entangled in the snares of earthly love. He reminded her of that blissful company whom the Church commemorates on the feast of the Holy Innocents (Dec. 28), who sing a new song which no man can learn but they who are virgins and follow the Lamb whithersoever He goeth. She yielded to his pious counsel; and on his return home God took her to Himself at his request, without pain or any visible sickness. Bishop Jeremy Taylor relates this little story in his own beautiful language in the "Holy Dying."

His departure was followed by harsh persecution of the Gallican clergy, but nothing could shake their steadfastness or persuade them to align with the enemies of St. Hilary and the Nicene Faith, nor to fill his position, which in the eyes of the Church was not vacant. The priests and deacons of Toulouse were brutally beaten, and their church was desecrated. In AD 357, the Bishops wrote a letter [Pg 184] to St. Hilary, assuring him of their loyalty and determination. Around the same time, St. Hilary received a letter from Apra, his only daughter, informing him that a young man had proposed to her. She was then about thirteen or fourteen years old. He quickly wrote back, urging her to focus on the far greater rewards that the Lord Jesus has promised to those virgins who fully dedicate themselves to their Heavenly Spouse and do not get caught up in the traps of earthly love. He reminded her of that blessed group commemorated by the Church on the feast of the Holy Innocents (Dec. 28), who sing a new song that only those who are virgins and follow the Lamb wherever He goes can learn. She listened to his wise counsel; and upon his return home, God took her to Himself at his request, without pain or any visible illness. Bishop Jeremy Taylor recounts this little story in his own beautiful style in "Holy Dying."

In return for the comforting letter which the Gallican Bishops had sent him, and at their request to be informed regarding the faith of the Eastern Churches, S. Hilary wrote his "History of Synods" in the end of a.d. 358. It contains an account of the various councils that had been assembled in the East on the subject of the Arian heresy, together with a defence of the Nicene Faith. It is addressed to the British Bishops among others, whom he congratulates on their steadfastness. The Saint also wrote his book "On the Trinity" during his exile, and a smaller treatise "Against the Arians." He was also the undoubted author of several hymns, and others have been attributed to him.

In response to the comforting letter that the Gallican Bishops sent him, and at their request for information about the faith of the Eastern Churches, St. Hilary wrote his "History of Synods" at the end of A.D. 358. It includes an account of the various councils held in the East regarding the Arian heresy, along with a defense of the Nicene Faith. It's addressed to the British Bishops, among others, whom he praises for their steadfastness. The Saint also wrote his book "On the Trinity" during his exile, and a shorter work "Against the Arians." He is undoubtedly the author of several hymns, and others have been attributed to him.

S. HILARY BAPTIZING S. MARTIN

In a.d. 359 the Western Bishops held a synod at Rimini, at which nearly four hundred were present. The Arian party among them beguiled the rest by its address, to sanction its errors by their signatures. The Bishops of Agen and Tongres took a prominent lead in the proceedings of the synod. In September of the same year S. Hilary was invited with other Catholic Bishops by the semi-Arians to their council at Seleucia, in Isauria. Their object was to defeat the Arians, and they hoped that the Catholics would assist them. In this council S. Hilary bore witness to the faith of the Western Church being the same as that declared to be the Catholic Faith at the Council of Nice in a.d. 325, and he protested against both the Arian and semi-Arian opinions as novelties. He accompanied the deputies of the council to Constantinople, in hopes of obtaining from the Emperor Constantius the recall of his sentence of banishment.

In A.D. 359, the Western Bishops gathered for a synod in Rimini, attended by nearly four hundred members. The Arian faction among them charmed the others into endorsing their errors with their signatures. The Bishops of Agen and Tongres took a leading role in the synod's discussions. In September of that same year, Saint Hilary was invited along with other Catholic Bishops by the semi-Arians to their council in Seleucia, Isauria. Their goal was to challenge the Arians, and they hoped the Catholics would support them. At this council, Saint Hilary affirmed that the faith of the Western Church was the same as the Catholic Faith established at the Council of Nice in A.D. 325, and he objected to both Arian and semi-Arian views as new and unwelcome. He traveled with the council's deputies to Constantinople, hoping to persuade Emperor Constantius to reverse his banishment.

While the Arian synod was sitting at Constantinople, in January, a.d. 360, he entreated the Emperor to grant him a conference with Saturninus, Bishop of Arles, the author of his exile, and that he might be allowed to appear in the synod, and bear witness to the Catholic Faith. He also complained of the perplexity which the multiplication of creeds and confessions of faith had occasioned; for in the preceding year alone four had been published to the Church. The Emperor refused to grant S. Hilary what he asked; but the Arians so much dreaded his presence in the East, that they persuaded Constantius to send him back to Gaul, yet without formally recalling the sentence of exile.

While the Arian synod was meeting in Constantinople in January, A.D. 360, he asked the Emperor for a chance to have a talk with Saturninus, the Bishop of Arles, who was responsible for his exile, and to be allowed to appear at the synod to testify to the Catholic Faith. He also expressed his frustration over the confusion caused by the increasing number of creeds and statements of faith, since four had been published just the previous year. The Emperor denied S. Hilary's requests, but the Arians were so afraid of his presence in the East that they convinced Constantius to send him back to Gaul, although they didn't formally overturn the exile decree.

The joy of his return to his Church and his native land was much lessened by the miserable confusion which he left behind him in the East. Still it must have been very great; and his approach was hailed with delight by the Church in Gaul. S. Martin, who had been living in retirement in the island of Gallenari, off the city of Genoa, went to Rome to meet him; but finding that he had already left it, he followed him to Poictiers, and soon after built a monastery near the town (see November 11.) S. Hilary immediately applied himself to repair the mischief which the Council of Rimini had done: and a synod was assembled at Paris, [Pg 186] which condemned its proceedings, and declared the true Faith of the consubstantiality of the Son of God. The Bishops also corresponded with their banished brethren in the East.

The joy of returning to his Church and homeland was significantly diminished by the terrible chaos he left behind in the East. Still, it must have been immense, and his arrival was celebrated with enthusiasm by the Church in Gaul. St. Martin, who had been living in seclusion on the island of Gallenari, near Genoa, went to Rome to meet him; but when he discovered that he had already left, he followed him to Poitiers and soon after built a monastery near the town (see November 11). St. Hilary immediately focused on fixing the damage caused by the Council of Rimini, leading to a synod convened in Paris, [Pg 186] which condemned its actions and affirmed the true Faith regarding the consubstantiality of the Son of God. The Bishops also kept in touch with their exiled brothers in the East.

In a.d. 363 S. Hilary made a journey into Italy in company with Eusebius of Vercelli. They were at Milan in the autumn of the following year, at the time when the Emperor Valentinian arrived there. The people were Catholic, and even abstained from entering the churches, to avoid communicating with Auxentius their Arian Bishop. In a public disputation which the Emperor invited him to hold, S. Hilary extorted from the Arian a confession of the Nicene Faith, which was taken down in writing and preserved. Auxentius was enraged at being thus vanquished, and prevailed on the Emperor to send S. Hilary away from Milan. Before his departure he addressed a letter to the Catholic Bishops and laity in the neighbourhood, exhorting them to remain firm. This was the last public act of his life which is recorded. He returned home to Poictiers, and finished his labours by a blessed death in January, a.d. 368, according to the testimony of the greater number of historians. A brilliant light is said to have filled the chamber where the body of the holy man was lying. S. Gregory of Tours attests the truth of a miracle performed at his tomb; and others also are authenticated by various writers. But neither the fame of these, nor respect for the memory of the saintly Confessor, prevented his tomb from being [Pg 187] violated by the Calvinists in 1567.

In A.D. 363, St. Hilary traveled to Italy with Eusebius of Vercelli. They were in Milan that autumn when Emperor Valentinian arrived. The locals were Catholic and even refrained from entering churches to avoid contact with Auxentius, their Arian Bishop. During a public debate that the Emperor invited him to hold, St. Hilary forced the Arian to admit the Nicene Faith, which was recorded and preserved. Auxentius, furious at this defeat, convinced the Emperor to send St. Hilary away from Milan. Before leaving, he wrote a letter to the nearby Catholic Bishops and laity, urging them to stay strong. This was the last public act of his life that is noted. He returned home to Poitiers and completed his work with a blessed death in January, A.D. 368, according to most historians. A brilliant light is said to have filled the room where the holy man's body lay. St. Gregory of Tours confirms a miracle that happened at his tomb, and other miracles are also verified by various writers. However, neither the fame of these events nor the respect for the memory of the holy Confessor stopped the Calvinists from desecrating his tomb in 1567.

S. KENTIGERN, OR MUNGO, B. OF GLASGOW.

(a.d. 601.)

(A.D. 601.)

[His life was written by S. Asaph, his disciple in the monastery of Llan-Elwyn, in Wales, founded by Kentigern when exiled. This life has not come down to us in its original form. We have, however, his life compiled in 1125 by Jocelyn, monk of Furness, from ancient authorities, by order of Bishop Jocelyn of Glasgow. Undoubtedly the life of S. Asaph formed the basis of this compilation. S. Kentigern is also spoken of by many ancient Scottish historians, John Major de Gest. Scotorum, lib. ii. c. 7; Hector Boece, lib. ix; Leslie, lib. iv., &c.]

His life was documented by S. Asaph, his disciple at the monastery of Llan-Elwyn in Wales, which was founded by Kentigern during his exile. Unfortunately, we no longer have the original text. However, there is a version of his life compiled in 1125 by Jocelyn, a monk from Furness, based on ancient sources, at the request of Bishop Jocelyn of Glasgow. It's clear that S. Asaph's account served as the basis for this compilation. S. Kentigern is also referenced by various ancient Scottish historians, including John Major in de Gest. Scotorum, lib. ii. c. 7; Hector Boece, lib. ix; Leslie, lib. iv., etc.

S. Kentigern is said[45] to have been the illegitimate son of Themin, daughter of Loth, King of the Picts, by Eugenius III., King of the Scots; but there is great uncertainty about his origin. When the Pictish King found that his daughter was likely to become a mother, he was filled with grief and anger, and ordered her to be thrown down a rock, on Mount Dunpeld. By God's mercy she was not injured, and was then, by her father's orders, sent to Culross, where she brought forth a son. At the same time S. Servan, being engaged in saying matins, heard angels singing. When he had finished his office he left his cell, and descending to the sea shore in the grey dusk, found there a mother rocking her new-born babe, wherefore the old hermit exclaimed, being moved with compassion, "Mochoche, mochoche!" which being interpreted is, My dear, my dear! Then he took the unfortunate girl and her babe to his cell, instructed her in the faith of Christ, and baptized her and her little one, and he called her Tanca, and him he named Kentiern.[46] So the child grew up in the old man's cell, and became so dear to him, that he called him familiarly Mungho, or Dearest, and by this name he is generally known in Scotland. His mother learned to love God, and to serve him with all her heart, and bitterly to bewail her fault.

S. Kentigern is said[45] to be the illegitimate son of Themin, the daughter of Loth, King of the Picts, and Eugenius III, King of the Scots; however, there is much uncertainty about his origins. When the Pictish King discovered that his daughter might soon be a mother, he was filled with grief and anger and ordered her to be thrown off a cliff on Mount Dunpeld. By God's mercy, she was not harmed and was then, following her father's orders, sent to Culross, where she gave birth to a son. At the same time, S. Servan, who was engaged in saying matins, heard angels singing. After finishing his prayers, he left his cell and, descending to the seashore in the dim twilight, found a mother cradling her newborn baby. The old hermit was moved with compassion and exclaimed, "Mochoche, mochoche!" which means, "My dear, my dear!" He then took the unfortunate girl and her baby to his cell, taught her about the faith of Christ, and baptized her and her child, naming her Tanca and him Kentiern.[46] The child grew up in the old man's cell and became so dear to him that he affectionately called him Mungho, or Dearest, and by this name, he is generally known in Scotland. His mother learned to love God and serve Him wholeheartedly while deeply regretting her mistakes.

Many pretty legends of the childhood of Kentigern have been wafted down to us. S. Servan had a pet redbreast which was wont to eat out of his hand, and to perch on his shoulder, and when he chanted the psalms of David, the little bird flapped its wings and twittered shrilly.

Many lovely legends about Kentigern's childhood have been passed down to us. St. Servan had a pet robin that would eat from his hand and sit on his shoulder, and when he sang the psalms of David, the little bird would flap its wings and chirp brightly.

Now Servan had several lads whom he educated at Culross, and these envied Kentigern, because he was the favourite of the old master, so in spite they wrung the neck of the redbreast, and charged the favourite boy with having done the deed. But Kentigern took the little dead bird, and crying bitterly, and praying to God, signed the cross over it. Then when the old man returned from church, the bird hopped to meet him as usual, chirping joyously. In those days it was no easy matter to kindle a fire, indeed, without a flame from which to light one, it was impossible, for in the north, sticks are not dry enough to be rubbed into a blaze as they can be in hot climates. Therefore it was necessary that fires should never be allowed to become extinct. It was the duty of the boys of S. Servan, in turn by weeks, to rise during the night and mend the fire, so that there should not be a deficiency of light for illumining the Church at the matin offices. When it was Kentigern's week, the boys, to bring him into trouble, extinguished the fire. Mungo, rising as usual, went to the hearth but found the fire out. Then he took a stick and placed it over the cold ashes, and invoking the name of the Holy Trinity, he blew upon the dead cinders, and a flame leaped up which kindled the branch; and thereat he lighted the Church candles.

Now Servan had several boys whom he taught at Culross, and they envied Kentigern because he was the favorite of the old master. Out of spite, they killed a redbreast and blamed the favorite boy for it. But Kentigern took the little dead bird, cried bitterly, and prayed to God, making the sign of the cross over it. When the old man returned from church, the bird hopped to greet him as usual, chirping happily. Back then, it was no easy task to start a fire; without a flame to light one, it was impossible, since in the north, sticks aren't dry enough to catch fire like they are in hotter climates. So, it was crucial that fires never go out. It was the responsibility of Servan's boys to take turns each week, getting up during the night to tend the fire, ensuring there was enough light for illuminating the Church during the morning services. When it was Kentigern's week, the boys, wanting to get him in trouble, put out the fire. Mungo, getting up as usual, went to the hearth but found the fire out. He then took a stick and placed it over the cold ashes, and invoking the name of the Holy Trinity, he blew on the dead coals, and a flame sprang up that ignited the branch; thus, he lit the Church candles.

At last, unable to endure longer the envy of his fellow pupils, Kentigern ran away. And when S. Servan discovered it, he pursued him, and reached the bank of a river, but Kentigern had escaped to the other side. Then the old [Pg 189] man cried to him, "Alas! my dearest son, the light of my eyes, and the staff of my age, wherefore hast thou deserted me? Remember that I took thee from thy mother's womb, nursed thee, and taught thee to this day. Do not desert my white hairs."

At last, unable to put up with the jealousy of his classmates any longer, Kentigern ran away. When S. Servan found out, he chased after him and reached the riverbank, but Kentigern had already crossed to the other side. The old man called out to him, "Oh no! my beloved son, the light of my life, and my support in old age, why have you abandoned me? Remember that I took you from your mother's womb, cared for you, and raised you up to this day. Don’t leave me in my old age."

Then Kentigern, bursting into tears, answered, "My father, it is the will of the Most High that I should go."

Then Kentigern, breaking down in tears, replied, "My father, it is the will of the Almighty that I should go."

Servan cried out, "Return, return, dear son, and I, from being a father, will be to thee as a son, from being a master I will become a disciple."

Servan shouted, "Come back, come back, dear son, and I will be as a son to you, shifting from being a father to becoming your disciple."

But Kentigern, suffused with tears, replied, "It cannot be, my father; return and admonish thy disciples, and instruct them by thine example. I must go where the Lord God calls me."

But Kentigern, filled with tears, replied, "I can't, my father; go back and advise your students, and teach them by your example. I have to go where the Lord God is calling me."

Then Servan blessed him across the river, lifting up his holy hands, and sorrowfully they parted the one from the other, to see each other's face no more in this life.

Then Servan blessed him across the river, raising his holy hands, and sadly they parted from one another, knowing they would not see each other's face again in this life.

Kentigern settled near Glasgow, where he inhabited a cave in the face of a rock, where the people looked at him with respectful curiosity, while he studied the direction of the storms at sea, and drank in with pleasure the first breezes of the spring. Having converted many of the people, together with the King of Strathclyde, he was consecrated Bishop by an Irish prelate, the Keltic Church being ignorant of the Nicene canon requiring three to consecrate, "with unction of holy oil, invocation of the Holy Spirit, and imposition of hands."

Kentigern settled near Glasgow, where he lived in a cave in the side of a rock. The people watched him with respectful curiosity while he studied the direction of storms at sea and enjoyed the first breezes of spring. After converting many of the locals, including the King of Strathclyde, he was appointed Bishop by an Irish bishop. The Celtic Church was unaware of the Nicene rule that required three individuals to consecrate "with anointing of holy oil, invocation of the Holy Spirit, and laying on of hands."

The district of Strathclyde, or Cumbria, on the west coast of Britain, from the mouth of the Clyde to that of the Mersey, that is to say, from Glasgow to Liverpool, was occupied by a mingled race of Britons and Scots, whose capital was Al-Cluid, now Dumbarton. It was in this region that S. Kentigern was called to labour.

The region of Strathclyde, or Cumbria, on the west coast of Britain, stretching from the mouth of the Clyde to the mouth of the Mersey, meaning from Glasgow to Liverpool, was home to a mix of Britons and Scots, with its capital at Al-Cluid, now known as Dumbarton. It was in this area that S. Kentigern was called to work.

As bishop, he still dwelt in his rocky cell, where he used [Pg 190] a stone for a pillow, and to inure his body to hardships, he stood in the Clyde to recite his psalter. He wore a dress of goat-skin bound about his loins, and a hood, and over all, his white linen alb, which he never left off; and carried in his hand his pastoral staff of wood without ornament, and in his other hand his office book. Thus he was ever prepared to execute his ministry; and thus attired, he went through the kingdom from the Clyde to the Firth of Forth. In his cell he lived on bread and cheese and milk, but when he was with the King, he relaxed the severity of his fasting, so as not to appear ungracious when offered more abundant and better food; however, on his return to his cell, he curtailed his allowance, so as to make up for his relaxation of rule at court.

As bishop, he still lived in his rocky cell, using a stone for a pillow. To toughen his body, he stood in the Clyde to recite his psalter. He wore a goat-skin tunic tied at the waist, a hood, and over it all, his white linen alb, which he never took off. He carried a simple wooden pastoral staff in one hand and his office book in the other. This way, he was always ready to perform his duties, and dressed like this, he traveled throughout the kingdom from the Clyde to the Firth of Forth. In his cell, he survived on bread, cheese, and milk, but when he was with the King, he eased up on his fasting so he wouldn’t seem rude when offered better food. However, when he went back to his cell, he reduced his meals to make up for the break in his rule at court.

When S. Kentigern was made Bishop of Glasgow, Gurthmel Wledio was King of the North Britons. He was succeeded by Roderick the Liberal (Rydderach Hael), a religious and deserving prince, who was driven by his rebellious subjects under Morken Mawr to Ireland. Morken having usurped the throne of Strathclyde, drove S. Kentigern out of the country, and the Saint took refuge in Wales with S. David, Bishop of Menevia, and remained with him till the Prince of Denbigh bestowed on him lands, where he built the famous monastery of Llan-Elwyn, afterwards called S. Asaph. Here he gathered about him a great number of disciples and scholars, and he was there at the date of the death of S. David, in 544.

When S. Kentigern became Bishop of Glasgow, Gurthmel Wledio was the King of the North Britons. He was followed by Roderick the Liberal (Rydderach Hael), a pious and worthy prince, who was forced to flee to Ireland because of his rebellious subjects led by Morken Mawr. Morken, having taken over the throne of Strathclyde, expelled S. Kentigern from the land, and the Saint sought refuge in Wales with S. David, Bishop of Menevia, where he stayed until the Prince of Denbigh granted him land, where he built the well-known monastery of Llan-Elwyn, later known as S. Asaph. Here, he gathered a large number of disciples and scholars, and he was there at the time of S. David's death in 544.

On the death of Morken, Roderick returned to Scotland, and recovered his crown. He immediately recalled Kentigern to his see, and he, leaving his monastery to the care of S. Asaph, went back to Glasgow in 560.

On Morken's death, Roderick went back to Scotland and got his crown back. He quickly brought Kentigern back to his position, and Kentigern, leaving his monastery in the hands of S. Asaph, returned to Glasgow in 560.

Roderick's mother was Irish, and he had been baptized by an Irish monk, and greatly respected Kentigern. The Saint returned bringing with him a hive of Welsh [Pg 191] monks, and established the seat of his renewed apostleship once more at Glasgow, where Ninian had preceded him nearly a century before, without leaving any lasting traces of his passage. Kentigern, more fortunate, established upon the site of a burying-ground, consecrated by Ninian, the first foundation of that magnificent cathedral which still bears his name, though diverted to a religion different from that he professed.

Roderick's mother was Irish, and he had been baptized by an Irish monk, who he greatly respected, Kentigern. The Saint returned with a group of Welsh monks and set up his renewed mission in Glasgow, where Ninian had been nearly a century earlier without leaving any significant impact. Kentigern, more fortunate, built the first foundation of the impressive cathedral on a burial ground consecrated by Ninian, which still carries his name, even though it is now dedicated to a different religion than the one he followed.

Kentigern collected round him numerous disciples, all learned in holy literature, all working with their hands, and possessing nothing as individuals. "They dwelt," says Jocelyn, "in separate cells, as did Kentigern, thence were they called Calledei." He distinguished himself during his episcopate by his efforts to bring back to the faith the Picts of Galloway, which formed part of the kingdom of Strathclyde; and afterwards, by numerous mission and monastic foundations throughout all Albyn—a name which was then given to midland Scotland. His disciples penetrated even to the Orkney Isles, where they probably met with the missionaries of S. Columba, despatched from Iona.

Kentigern gathered many followers around him, all well-versed in religious texts, all working with their hands, and owning nothing individually. "They lived," says Jocelyn, "in separate cells, just like Kentigern, which is why they were called Calledei." He made a name for himself during his time as bishop by working to restore the faith of the Picts in Galloway, which was part of the Strathclyde kingdom; and later, by establishing many missions and monasteries throughout all of Albyn—a name that referred to central Scotland at the time. His disciples even ventured to the Orkney Isles, where they likely encountered the missionaries of St. Columba, who were sent from Iona.

The salutary and laborious activity of Kentigern must often have encroached upon the regions which were specially within the sphere of Columba. But the generous heart of Columba was inaccessible to jealousy. He was, besides, the personal friend of Kentigern and of King Roderick.[47] The fame of the Bishop of Strathclyde's apostolic labours drew him from his isle to do homage to his rival in love and good works. He arrived from Iona with a great train of monks, whom he arrayed in three companies at the moment of their entrance into Glasgow. Kentigern distributed in the same way the numerous monks who surrounded him in his episcopal monastery, and whom he led out to meet the abbot of Iona. He divided them, [Pg 192] according to their age, into three bands, the youngest of whom walked first; then those who had reached the age of manhood; and last of all, the old and grey-haired, among whom he himself took his place. They all chanted the anthem, "They shall sing in the ways of the Lord: that great is the glory of the Lord. The path of the just is made: and the way of the saints is prepared." The monks of Iona, on their side, chanted the versicle, "The saints shall go from strength to strength: and unto the God of gods appeareth every one of them in Sion."[48] From every side echoed the Alleluia; and it was to the sound of these words of Holy Scripture that the Apostles of the Picts and Scots met at what had been the extreme boundary of the Roman empire, and limit of the power of the Cæsars, and upon a soil henceforth for ever freed from paganism and idolatry. They embraced each other tenderly, and passed several days in intimate and friendly intercourse.

The beneficial and hardworking efforts of Kentigern must have often crossed into the areas that were primarily Columba's domain. But Columba’s generous nature was not clouded by jealousy. He was, in fact, a personal friend of both Kentigern and King Roderick.[47] The reputation of the Bishop of Strathclyde’s missionary work brought him from his island to pay respect to his rival in love and good deeds. He arrived from Iona with a large group of monks, whom he arranged into three companies as they entered Glasgow. Kentigern organized the numerous monks who surrounded him in his episcopal monastery in the same way, leading them out to welcome the abbot of Iona. He divided them, [Pg 192] based on their age, into three groups: the youngest walked first, then those in their prime, and lastly, the elderly with grey hair, among whom he placed himself. They all sang the anthem, "They shall sing in the ways of the Lord: that great is the glory of the Lord. The path of the just is made: and the way of the saints is prepared." The monks of Iona responded with the verse, "The saints shall go from strength to strength: and unto the God of gods appeareth every one of them in Sion."[48] From every direction, "Alleluia" resounded; and it was to the sound of these Biblical words that the Apostles of the Picts and Scots met at what had been the farthest edge of the Roman Empire, the limit of the reach of the Caesars, and on land now forever free from paganism and idolatry. They embraced each other warmly and spent several days in close and friendly conversation.

The historian, who has preserved for us the account of this interview, does not conceal a less edifying incident. He confesses that some robbers had joined themselves to the following of the abbot of Iona, and that they took advantage of the general enthusiasm to steal a ram from the Bishop's flock. They were soon taken; but Kentigern pardoned them. Columba and his fellow Apostle exchanged their pastoral staves before they parted, in token of mutual affection. The staff of S. Columba, afterwards used by S. Kentigern, was in later times given to S. Wilfred, who placed it in the monastic church he founded at Ripon.

The historian, who recorded this interview for us, doesn't hide a less noble incident. He admits that some robbers had joined the group of the abbot of Iona and took advantage of the general excitement to steal a ram from the Bishop's flock. They were quickly caught, but Kentigern forgave them. Columba and his fellow Apostle exchanged their pastoral staffs before parting as a sign of their mutual affection. The staff of S. Columba, later used by S. Kentigern, was eventually given to S. Wilfred, who placed it in the monastic church he founded at Ripon.

I know not how far we may put faith in another narrative of Jocelyn, which has remained Kentigern's most popular title to fame. The wife of King Roderick, led astray by a guilty passion for a knight of her husband's court, had the weakness to bestow on him a ring which had been given to her by the King. When Roderick was out hunting with this knight, the two took refuge on the banks of the Clyde, during the heat of the day, and the knight, falling asleep, unwittingly stretched out his hand, upon which the King saw the ring which he had given to the Queen as a token of his love. It was with difficulty that he restrained himself from killing the knight on the spot; but he subdued his rage, and contented himself by taking the ring from his finger, and throwing it into the river, without awakening the guilty sleeper. When he had returned to the town, he demanded his ring from the Queen, and, as she could not produce it, threw her into prison, and gave orders for her execution. She obtained, however, a delay of three days, and having in vain sought the ring from the knight to whom she had given it, she had recourse to S. Kentigern. He, moved by the remembrance of his mother, through whose sin he had entered the world, and anxious that the unhappy woman should be given time for repentance, prayed to God, and the ring was found in the belly of a salmon caught in the Clyde, and sent by him to the Queen, who showed it to her husband, and thus escaped the punishment which awaited her. On her liberation she hastened to Kentigern, confessed her fault to him, and was exhorted by him to amend her life and do penance for the past. It is for this reason that the ancient effigies of the Apostle of Strathclyde represent him holding the episcopal cross in one hand, and in the other a salmon with a ring in its mouth.

I don’t know how much we can trust another story about Jocelyn, which has remained Kentigern’s most famous claim to fame. The wife of King Roderick, misled by a guilty passion for a knight from her husband's court, made the mistake of giving him a ring that had been gifted to her by the King. While Roderick was out hunting with this knight, the two took shelter by the Clyde during the heat of the day, and the knight, falling asleep, unknowingly stretched out his hand, revealing the ring that the King had given to the Queen as a symbol of his love. It was hard for Roderick to stop himself from killing the knight right then and there; instead, he controlled his anger, took the ring from the knight's finger, and threw it into the river without waking the guilty man. When Roderick returned to town, he demanded the ring from the Queen, and since she couldn’t produce it, he imprisoned her and ordered her execution. She managed to get a stay of three days and, after unsuccessfully searching for the ring from the knight to whom she had given it, turned to S. Kentigern for help. He, remembering his mother, through whose sin he had entered the world, and wanting to give the troubled woman time to repent, prayed to God. The ring was found in the stomach of a salmon caught in the Clyde and sent to the Queen, who showed it to her husband, thereby escaping the punishment that awaited her. After her release, she hurried to Kentigern, confessed her wrongdoing, and was advised by him to change her life and do penance for her past. This is why ancient depictions of the Apostle of Strathclyde show him holding the episcopal cross in one hand and a salmon with a ring in its mouth in the other.

S. Kentigern lived to a very advanced age, and his jaws being too weak to masticate his food, his lower jaw was supported by a band of linen tied round his head. He died gently as he was being lifted out of a warm bath, in [Pg 194] the year 601.

S. Kentigern lived to an old age, and his jaws were too weak to chew his food, so his lower jaw was supported by a strip of linen tied around his head. He died peacefully while being lifted out of a warm bath, in [Pg 194] the year 601.

Patron of Glasgow.

Patron of Glasgow.

In art, represented with a fish and a ring. (See above.)

In art, depicted with a fish and a ring. (See above.)

B. GOTFRIED OF KAPPENBERG.

(a.d. 1127.)

(A.D. 1127.)

[His life by a writer of the same time, a monk of Kappenberg, who, though he did not know Gotfried himself, derived his information from those who knew him well. He is also mentioned, and the principal incidents of his life noticed, in the life of S. Norbert.]

[This account was written by a modern author, a monk from Kappenberg, who, although he didn't personally know Gotfried, collected his information from people who were close to him. He is also mentioned, along with important events from his life, in the biography of S. Norbert.]

Godfrey or Gotfried, Count of Kappenberg,[49] in Westphalia, lived at a period when the nobles of Germany were engaged in constant feuds with one another, falling on each others lands, burning the villages, and carrying off the cattle. It was a period when the poor suffered untold woes. "It is good to live under the crook," they said, meaning that their only place, where they could live in security, was on the lands of the abbeys. One little incident mentioned in the life of Count Gotfried, shews the lawlessness of the times. The Count and the city of Münster not being on good terms, a party of the Kappenbergers made a foray, and swept up all the cattle from the farms in the neighbourhood of Münster, and brought them in triumph to the Count; but he rebuked them saying, "Take all these back again; my quarrel is with the men of the city; it is not seemly that the innocent and helpless farmers should lose their all on account of a contest of the rights of which they know nothing."

Godfrey, or Gotfried, Count of Kappenberg,[49] in Westphalia, lived during a time when the nobles of Germany were constantly feuding, attacking each other's lands, burning villages, and stealing cattle. It was a time when the poor endured unimaginable suffering. "It's good to live under the crook," they said, meaning that their only safe place was on the lands of the abbeys. One small incident from Count Gotfried's life illustrates the chaos of the times. The Count and the city of Münster were not on good terms, so a group of Kappenbergers raided the area and took all the cattle from farms near Münster, bringing them triumphantly to the Count. However, he scolded them, saying, "Take all these back; my conflict is with the people of the city, not with the innocent and defenseless farmers who shouldn't lose everything because of a dispute they know nothing about."

Gotfried happening to attend, along with his brother Otto, the preaching of S. Norbert, who traversed Westphalia at this time, was converted, and resolved on turning his fortress into a monastery. His wife at first opposed his [Pg 195] intention, and his relations used all their influence to dissuade him. But his earnestness moved his wife at last to withdraw her objections, and to consent to his entering the religious life; she, at the same time, also resolved to take the veil. Accordingly, Gotfried and his brother Otto, who was his junior, received the tonsure, and became canons of S. Augustine, under the rule of S. Norbert of Prémontré. Frederick, Count of Arnsberg, the father of Gotfried's wife, was furious. He was a man of great cruelty, in whose dungeons languished many wretches, and who delighted in war. His protests were in vain, the Count of Kappenberg transformed his castle into a monastery, and built two more, at Varlar and Elstadt. So great was the humility of Gotfried, that finding he was continually given his title of Count, even by the brethren, he took upon himself the most disagreeable office in the house, that of scourer of the privies.

Gotfried, along with his brother Otto, happened to attend a sermon by S. Norbert, who was traveling through Westphalia at that time. He was converted and decided to turn his fortress into a monastery. Initially, his wife opposed his plan, and his relatives tried their best to convince him against it. However, his sincerity eventually persuaded his wife to drop her objections and agree to his new life; she also decided to become a nun. Consequently, Gotfried and his younger brother Otto received the tonsure and became canons of S. Augustine, following the rule of S. Norbert of Prémontré. Frederick, Count of Arnsberg, Gotfried's father-in-law, was furious. He was a cruel man, known for keeping many unfortunate souls in his dungeons and for his love of war. His protests were in vain; the Count of Kappenberg turned his castle into a monastery and built two more, at Varlar and Elstadt. Gotfried was so humble that, despite constantly being referred to as Count by his fellow brothers, he chose to take on the most unpleasant job in the monastery: cleaning the latrines.

Frederick, Count of Arnsberg, finding remonstrances in vain, threatened to fall on the county of Kappenberg, and drive the monks out "As for that Norbert!" he exclaimed, "who has come riding on an ass through Westphalia, turning men's heads, let me catch him, and I'll hang him and his ass at the two ends of one rope over a bough, and see which is the heaviest fool of the twain."

Frederick, Count of Arnsberg, realizing that protests were useless, threatened to attack the county of Kappenberg and drive the monks out. "As for that Norbert!" he shouted, "who's come riding on a donkey through Westphalia, turning people's heads, let me catch him, and I'll hang him and his donkey at either end of one rope over a branch, and see who's the bigger fool of the two."

Gotfried and his brethren sent to Prémontré, to tell their father in religion, that it was impossible for them to remain in Germany, that Count Arnsberg would attack them shortly; and they added the threat uttered against Norbert himself and his ass.

Gotfried and his brothers went to Prémontré to inform their religious leader that it was impossible for them to stay in Germany, as Count Arnsberg was about to attack them. They also mentioned the threat made against Norbert himself and his group.

"Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world, said Christ," he wrote back to them, "and as for me and my ass, we are coming into Westphalia to be weighed one against the other." Nor was S. Norbert long in coming; he rode upon his ass to the door of Kappenberg; but there was no further danger, Count Frederick of Arnsberg was dead.

"Cheer up, I've conquered the world," Christ said, he replied to them, "and as for me and my donkey, we're heading to Westphalia to be compared." Nor did S. Norbert take long to arrive; he rode on his donkey to the door of Kappenberg; but there was no more danger, Count Frederick of Arnsberg was dead.

Before he died, Gotfried visited the cradle of his order, Prémontré, the home of S. Norbert. On his way back, next year, he sickened, and died at Elstadt.

Before he died, Gotfried visited the birthplace of his order, Prémontré, the home of St. Norbert. On his way back the following year, he fell ill and died in Elstadt.

B. VERONICA, V. OF MILAN.

(a.d. 1497.)

(A.D. 1497.)

[Beatified by Pope Leo X. Her life and revelations were written by Brother Isidore of Isolani, O.S.D., from the account given him by those who had known her well; among others from the notes of Benedetta, and the recital of Thaddæa, two sisters, who had been intimately acquainted with Veronica. This account was printed in 1518, at Milan.]

Beatified by Pope Leo X, her life and revelations were documented by Brother Isidore of Isolani, O.S.D., using the accounts from those who knew her best; particularly from the notes of Benedetta and the story shared by Thaddæa, two sisters who were close to Veronica. This account was published in 1518 in Milan.

Veronica was the daughter of a pious peasant at Binasco, a small village between Milan and Pavia. Her father was noted for his integrity, and when he sold a horse he always mentioned its defects to the purchaser. Veronica was employed in the fields weeding, as the parents were too poor to send her to the school. Veronica desired earnestly to become a sister in the convent of S. Martha, at Milan, but her mother assured her that it was impossible to join a religious community without a knowledge of letters. Accordingly, every night Veronica laboured, by the light of her little oil lamp, at her alphabet and spelling book; but she made little progress. One night, as she lay with her hands spread out on the table, and her head bowed, disheartened at the difficulty of her task, the Blessed Virgin appeared to her in a robe of dazzling blue, like the summer sky. "My child," said the gentle Mother, "trouble thyself not with this scholarship, the only learning thou needst is comprised in three letters, white, black, and red. This white letter is purity of soul and body; this black letter is simplicity, contentedness with what God sends you, and freedom from taking offence; this red letter is meditation [Pg 197] on the passion of my dear Son. Let these three branches of learning be mastered, and all the other letters come of themselves."

Veronica was the daughter of a devout peasant from Binasco, a small village between Milan and Pavia. Her father was known for his honesty, and whenever he sold a horse, he always pointed out its flaws to the buyer. Veronica worked in the fields weeding since her family was too poor to send her to school. She longed to become a sister at the S. Martha convent in Milan, but her mother told her it was impossible to join a religious community without knowing how to read and write. So, every night, Veronica toiled under the light of her little oil lamp, practicing her alphabet and spelling book; however, she made little progress. One night, as she lay with her hands spread out on the table and her head bowed, feeling defeated by her difficult task, the Blessed Virgin appeared to her in a robe of brilliant blue, resembling the summer sky. "My child," said the gentle Mother, "don’t worry about this learning; the only knowledge you need is contained in three letters: white, black, and red. The white letter stands for purity of soul and body; the black letter represents simplicity, contentment with what God provides, and not taking offense; the red letter signifies meditation on the passion of my dear Son. Master these three aspects of learning, and all the other knowledge will come naturally."

Veronica, some years later, entered the convent of S. Martha, as a lay sister, and her duties were to beg for the society, as her ignorance of reading and Latin disqualified her from chanting the choir offices with the full sisters.

Veronica, a few years later, joined the convent of S. Martha as a lay sister. Her role was to beg for the community since her inability to read and understand Latin prevented her from participating in the choir services with the full sisters.

She persevered in the study of those three letters shown her by the Queen of Heaven, and in studying them she advanced far on the way of perfection. She was honoured with wondrous revelations, but her modesty was so great that she sought to conceal them. On the Octave of Corpus Christi, 1487, during mass, she saw in the adorable Sacrament exposed in the Tabernacle, the form of Jesus Christ as a little child surrounded by adoring angels. In her simplicity she asked one of the other sisters if she had seen the Holy Child, and when she answered in the negative, Veronica flushed red, and said no more.

She continued to study those three letters shown to her by the Queen of Heaven, and through her studies, she progressed significantly on the path to perfection. She received amazing revelations, but her humility was so strong that she tried to keep them hidden. On the Octave of Corpus Christi, 1487, during mass, she saw the adorable Sacrament displayed in the Tabernacle, the form of Jesus Christ as a little child surrounded by adoring angels. In her innocence, she asked one of the other sisters if she had seen the Holy Child, and when the sister replied that she hadn’t, Veronica blushed and said no more.

It was a great disappointment to her that she was unable to sing the choir offices, and she made it a special object of prayer that her understanding might be enlightened, so that she might join the others in their psalmody. Then an angel descended to her cell, and he held in his hand the psalter, and opening it before her, bade her read, and all her difficulty passed away, and she chanted the psalms of David, with the antiphons and responses, alternately with the Angel of God. One night, when she had been very ill, and deprived of the privilege of communion, she rose from her sick bed, drawn by an irresistible impulse to the church. It was full of light; she cast herself at the altar steps, before the adorable Sacrament, and Jesus in a cloud of glory communicated her Himself.

It was a huge disappointment for her that she couldn't sing in the choir, and she made it a point of prayer that her understanding would be opened so she could join the others in their singing. Then an angel came down to her cell, holding a psalter, and opened it for her, telling her to read. All her struggles faded away, and she chanted the psalms of David, alternating the antiphons and responses with the Angel of God. One night, after being very ill and missing out on communion, she got out of bed, compelled by an irresistible urge to go to the church. It was filled with light; she fell at the altar steps, before the holy Sacrament, and Jesus, surrounded by a cloud of glory, communicated Himself to her.

She lay three years in a lingering illness, all which time she would never be exempted from any of the duty of the [Pg 198] house, or make use of the least indulgence, though she was given leave; her answer always was, "I must work whilst I can, whilst I have time."

She spent three years suffering from a prolonged illness, during which time she never avoided any of the household duties or accepted even the smallest concession, even when she was permitted to do so; her response was always, "I must work while I can, while I have the time."

Sister Thaddæa informed the writer of her life, that on Whitsun-Monday, 1496, she went to the cell of Veronica, who was ill, at the hour of nones, and was astonished to see a bright light streaming from the chinks in the door. Looking in through a hole, she saw Veronica, in dazzling light, chanting nones. Veronica died in the year 1497.

Sister Thaddæa shared with the author her life story and mentioned that on Whitsun Monday, 1496, she visited the sick cell of Veronica at the hour of nones. She was amazed to see a bright light shining through the cracks in the door. Peeking through a hole, she saw Veronica glowing with light, chanting nones. Veronica passed away in 1497.

Seal of Robert Wishart Seal of Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, 1272-1316. See the life of St. Kentigern, p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.

FOOTNOTES:

[44] Lib. I., c. 3, 4.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Lib. I., c. 3, 4.

[45] By David Camerarius, Hector Boece, and Condeus.

[45] By David Camerarius, Hector Boece, and Condeus.

[46] From Ken-tiern, chief lord.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ From Ken-tiern, chief lord.

[47] Adamnan i. 15.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Adamnan i. 15.

[48] In viis Domini magna est gloria Domini, et via justorum facta est: et iter sanctorum præparatum est. Ibunt sancti de virtute in virtutem: videbitur Deus corum in Sion.

[48] The Lord's ways are glorious, and the path of the righteous is established: the journey of the saints is prepared. The holy will go from strength to strength: God will be seen among them in Zion.

[49] Near Lunen, on the river Lippe.

[49] Close to Lunen, on the Lippe River.


January 14.

S. Pontian, M., at Spoleto, 2nd cent.
S. Felix, P. C., at Nola, 3rd cent.
S. Macrina, at Neocæsarea, 4th cent.
SS. Theodulus, Paul, Proclus, Hypatius, Isaac, and Others,
Monks, MM., at Sinai, 5th cent.
S. Datius, Abp. of Milan, a.d. 552.
S. Fulgentius, B. of Carthagina, a.d. 619.
B. Engelmar, H. M. in Bavaria, beginning of 12th cent.
B. Sabbas, Abp. of Servia, 13th cent.
B. Ordorico, Friar at Udine, in Italy, a.d. 1331.
For S. Hilary, see Jan. 13.

Saint Pontian, Martyr, in Spoleto, 2nd century.
Saint Felix, Priest and Confessor, in Nola, 3rd century.
Saint Macrina, in Neocæsarea, 4th century.
Saints Theodulus, Paul, Proclus, Hypatius, Isaac, and Others,
Monks, Martyrs, in Sinai, 5th century.
Saint Datius, Archbishop of Milan, A.D. 552.
Saint Fulgentius, Bishop of Carthagena, A.D. 619.
Blessed Engelmar, Hermit in Bavaria, early 12th century.
Blessed Sabbas, Archbishop of Servia, 13th century.
Blessed Odoric, Friar in Udine, Italy, A.D. 1331.
For Saint Hilary, see January 13.

S. FELIX, P. C., AT NOLA.

(3rd cent.)

(3rd century)

[On this day are commemorated two priests, Confessors, of Nola, of the same name, Felix. This has led to almost inextricable confusion among Martyrologists. There is another, a martyr, of this name. The life of S. Felix is given by S. Gregory of Tours, De Glor. Martyr, lib. i. c. 104, and by the Venerable Bede. The miracles wrought by him have also been recorded by S. Paulinus of Nola.]

Today we celebrate two priests, both named Felix, from Nola. This has led to a lot of confusion among Martyrologists. There is also another martyr with the same name. The life of St. Felix is described by St. Gregory of Tours in De Glor. Martyr, book 1, chapter 104, and by the Venerable Bede. The miracles he performed have also been recorded by St. Paulinus of Nola.

S.

aint Felix was a native of Nola, in Campania, where his father, Hermias, who was by birth a Syrian, and had served in the army, had purchased an estate and settled. He had two sons, Felix and Hermias, to whom, at his death, he left his property. The younger, loving the things of Cæsar rather than the things of God, says Bede, served in the army, but Felix, more happy—as his name implies—enrolled himself as a soldier of Jesus Christ. Having passed the grades of lector and exorcist, he was finally ordained priest by Maximus, Bishop of Nola.

Saint Felix was originally from Nola in Campania, where his father, Hermias, a Syrian by birth who had served in the army, bought a property and settled down. He had two sons, Felix and Hermias, to whom he bequeathed his estate at his death. The younger son, who preferred the things of Caesar over the things of God, according to Bede, served in the army, but Felix, happier—just like his name suggests—became a soldier of Jesus Christ. After serving as a lector and an exorcist, he was eventually ordained as a priest by Maximus, the Bishop of Nola.

Persecution having broken out, the aged Bishop, mindful [Pg 200] of the injunction, "When they persecute you in one city flee to another" (Matt. x. 23), escaped to the hills, and left his flock to the charge of Felix, whom he designated as his successor. The persecutors, not finding the Bishop, seized on Felix, and cast him, heavily ironed, into a dungeon strewn with broken crockery, into which no ray of light entered. In the meantime, Maximus was perishing with cold and hunger in the mountains, hardships which his great age made him unable to endure.

Persecution broke out, and the elderly Bishop, remembering the instruction, "When they persecute you in one city, flee to another" (Matt. x. 23), escaped to the hills, leaving his flock under the care of Felix, whom he appointed as his successor. The persecutors, not finding the Bishop, captured Felix and threw him, heavily shackled, into a dungeon filled with broken pottery, where no light could reach. Meanwhile, Maximus was suffering from cold and hunger in the mountains, challenges that his advanced age made him unable to withstand.

One night an angel appeared to Felix, and bade him go forth out of prison and succour the aged Bishop. Then his chains fell off his neck, and hands, and feet, and the doors opened to him of their own accord, and guided by the angel, he was brought to the hiding place of Maximus, whom he found prostrate and speechless, and apparently dying. He moistened the old man's lips with wine, and forced some food into his mouth, and chafed his frozen limbs. By slow degrees the Bishop was restored, and then laying him upon his shoulders, Felix carried him home before daybreak, where a pious old woman took care of him.

One night an angel appeared to Felix and told him to leave prison and help the elderly Bishop. Suddenly, his chains fell off his neck, hands, and feet, and the doors opened on their own. Guided by the angel, he was led to Maximus's hiding place, where he found him lying down, speechless, and seemingly dying. Felix wet the old man's lips with wine, fed him some food, and warmed his cold limbs. Gradually, the Bishop recovered, and then Felix lifted him onto his shoulders and carried him home before dawn, where a devoted old woman took care of him.

Felix, with the blessing of his pastor, repaired secretly to his own lodgings, and there kept himself concealed, praying for the Church without ceasing, till peace was restored to it by the death of the Emperor Decius in 251. Persecution breaking forth again, the sergeants were sent in quest of Felix. Meeting him in the street, and not recognizing him, they stopped him and asked if he had met Felix on the way. "No," he answered; "I have not met him." They went on, but something arousing their suspicion, they had not gone far before they turned and hastened back. Felix had, in the meantime, crept through a small hole in some old broken walls. The officers came to the place, but seeing a spider's web covering the hole, they did [Pg 201] not search the place, thinking that Felix could not have passed that way. But this was the Lord's doing. He had sent the little spider to drop his lines and lace them together, with the utmost rapidity, over the place through which His servant had escaped. Felix, finding among the ruins, between two houses, an old well half dug, hid himself in it for six months; and received during that time wherewithal to subsist from a devout Christian woman.

Felix, with his pastor's blessing, secretly returned to his own place and kept himself hidden, continuously praying for the Church until peace was restored with the death of Emperor Decius in 251. When persecution broke out again, the officers were sent to find Felix. They encountered him in the street but didn’t recognize him, so they stopped to ask if he had seen Felix. "No," he replied; "I haven’t seen him." They continued on their way, but something made them suspicious, and before long, they turned around and rushed back. Meanwhile, Felix had slipped through a small hole in some old, crumbling walls. The officers arrived at the spot, but seeing a spider's web covering the hole, they assumed Felix couldn’t have escaped that way and didn’t investigate further. This was the work of the Lord, who had sent the little spider to quickly spin its web over the spot from which His servant had fled. Felix, discovering an old well that was only half dug between two houses, hid in it for six months and received the means to survive from a devoted Christian woman during that time.

Peace having been restored to the Church, the Saint quitted his retreat, and was received in the city as an angel from heaven. Soon after, S. Maximus dying, Felix was unanimously elected Bishop; but he persuaded the people to make choice of Quintus, because he was the senior priest, having been ordained seven days before him.

Peace having been restored to the Church, the Saint left his retreat and was welcomed in the city like an angel from heaven. Soon after, St. Maximus passed away, and Felix was unanimously elected Bishop; however, he convinced the people to choose Quintus because he was the senior priest, having been ordained seven days before him.

His property having been confiscated in the persecution, S. Felix rented a little spot of barren land, not exceeding three acres, which he tilled with his own hands, and was able by his industry to support himself, and give something in alms to the poor. He died at a good old age, on Jan. 14th, on which day the Martyrology, under the name of S. Jerome, and all others of later date mention him.

His property was taken during the persecution, so S. Felix rented a small piece of barren land, no larger than three acres, which he worked himself. Through his hard work, he managed to support himself and also give some alms to the poor. He died at a ripe old age on January 14th, the day that the Martyrology and later sources, including S. Jerome, recognize him.

Patron of Nola, in conjunction with other Saints.

Patron of Nola, along with other Saints.

Relics, in the Cathedral at Nola.

Relics in the NOLA Cathedral.

In art, he is represented (1), with an angel striking off his chains; (2), with a bunch of grapes, wherewith he fed S. Maximus; (3), bearing S. Maximus on his shoulders, or [Pg 202] in his arms; (4), with a spider.

In art, he is shown (1) with an angel breaking his chains; (2) with a bunch of grapes that he used to feed St. Maximus; (3) carrying St. Maximus on his shoulders, or [Pg 202] in his arms; (4) with a spider.

S. MACRINA THE ELDER, C., AT NEOCÆSAREA.

(4th cent.)

(4th century)

[Spoken of by S. Gregory Nyssen, her grandson, in his life of his sister Macrina. S. Gregory Nazianzen gives a fuller account in his life of her grandson, S. Basil the Great.]

[Mentioned by St. Gregory Nyssen, her grandson, in his biography of his sister Macrina. St. Gregory Nazianzen offers a more detailed account in his biography of her grandson, St. Basil the Great.]

In the persecution of Galerius, a.d. 304, S. Macrina and her husband were obliged to hide till the tyranny was overpast, in a wooded mountain in Pontus, for seven years, suffering severely from cold and from insufficiency of food. They were, however, able to catch and kill wild deer.

In the persecution of Galerius, A.D. 304, S. Macrina and her husband had to hide in a forested mountain in Pontus for seven years until the tyranny ended, enduring severe cold and lack of food. However, they managed to catch and kill wild deer.

SS. THEODULUS, P. PAUL, PROCLUS, HYPATIUS, ISAAC, AND OTHERS, MONKS AND MM. AT SINAI.

(5th Cent.)

(5th Cent.)

[Roman Martyrology. German Martyrology on the 13th Jan. The account of the martyrdom of these monks was written by S. Nilus himself, an eye-witness of their passion, and father of Theodulus, one of the sufferers, though not the martyr of the same name.]

[Roman Martyrology. German Martyrology on January 13th. The account of the martyrdom of these monks was written by St. Nilus himself, who witnessed their suffering and was the father of Theodulus, one of the victims, although not the martyr with the same name.]

"O my friends," says S. Nilus, in his account of the tragedy commemorated this day;[50] "I, wretched man that I am, had two sons, one of whom I had to lament, the other remained with his mother. After I had become the father of these two, my wife and I separated. A vehement craving after solitude and rest drew me into the desert; I could think and look to nothing else. When the desire of anything has engrossed the mind, it draws it violently from all things else, even from good works, and strains towards that which it desires, heeding no impediments and toils. When, then, I was thus impelled to go forth, I took my two [Pg 203] sons—they were quite little fellows then—and I led them to their mother, and I gave one to her, and kept the other with me, and I told her my design, and begged her not to oppose it. She did not resist me, seeing my earnestness, yielding rather to necessity than consenting spontaneously. But know, all of you, that the separation of those who have been united in legitimate marriage, and have become one body, by Him who in His secret council has joined them, is no light matter. It is like hacking through a living body with a sword."

"O my friends," says S. Nilus in his account of the tragedy commemorated today; [50] "I, the miserable man that I am, had two sons, one of whom I had to mourn, while the other stayed with his mother. After I became a father to these two, my wife and I separated. A strong desire for solitude and peace pulled me into the desert; I could think or focus on nothing else. When the longing for something consumes the mind, it pulls you away from everything else, even from good deeds, and pushes you toward what you desire, ignoring any obstacles or struggles. So, feeling compelled to leave, I took my two little sons and brought them to their mother. I handed one to her and kept the other with me, explaining my intentions and asking her not to resist. She didn’t fight me, seeing my determination, yielding more to necessity than giving her agreement willingly. But understand, all of you, that the separation of those who have been joined in legitimate marriage, who have become one flesh, as ordained by Him who joined them in His secret counsel, is no trivial matter. It is like cutting through a living body with a sword."

Nilus, having escaped with his little son Theodulus into the deserts of Sinai, took up his abode with the monks, and served God in the solitude and rest he had so much desired, "Among these," continues Nilus, "Cæsar's money does not circulate, for they neither buy nor sell. Each is ready to give freely to the other whatever he wants. Olives and dates, and rarely bread, is all they have to give, but they become tokens of charity, and sufficiently evidence liberality of intention. There is no envy among them, and he who abounds less in good works does not feel jealous of him who abounds more. Their cells are not close together, but at some little distance from one another, not because of want of love, but that they may mould themselves to the pattern God has set before them in all quiet and silence. On the Lord's Day they all assemble in one church, and meet accordingly once a week; lest, on the other hand, total isolation should break the bonds of concord and make them forgetful of the offices due to one another, and their manners become savage and uncouth. After having all participated of the Divine Mysteries, they accordingly meet to converse. But why should I relate more of their ways? All at once a storm came on, a cloud of barbarians burst upon the settlement, early one morning, when the hymns had just ceased. I was there then with my son. I was descending the holy [Pg 204] mountain to visit the Saints who inhabited the bush, as I was wont to do often, when I heard the noise of shouts and cries, and like yelping of dogs, the barbarians carried off all the Saints had prepared for their winter provision. They dragged them out of the church and stripped them, and made a circle round them with drawn swords, and eyes filled with fury, ready to kill them. Then, first they bade the priest stretch out his neck, and he, without a cry, though they cut him on the back with their blades, signed himself and whispered, 'Blessed be the Lord!' One blow cut him from the back-bone to the jaw, and cut through his ear; the next blow was from his shoulder to his cheek. So the holy man sank down modestly. The previous evening that admirable man at supper had said, 'How do we know whether we shall all live to meet again at table?' After that they killed him who lived with the old priest, and then the boy who served them." Then the Arabs, brandishing their bloody weapons, rushed after the monks, who scattered in all directions, some escaping down the valley, and some, Nilus included, flying up the all but inaccessible rocks of Sinai, whither the Arabs did not trouble themselves to pursue them. Nilus escaped reluctantly, for his boy was in the hands of the barbarians. "I stood bewildered," he says "not knowing what to do, and bound to the child by my bowels of love, and unable to fly till the boy made signs to me with his eyes to escape; but I could hardly persuade myself to do so. My feet went forward and dragged my body along, I hardly knew how, for my heart would not leave him, and I turned my face ever and anon to look at the boy. Thus I reached the mountain, following the others, and saw my poor boy carried away, unable to look about him as he would, but furtively casting glances towards where I was. Such is the tie of nature, that separation of bodies does not break it, but it is cruelly wrenched. The cow [Pg 205] which is led away lows piteously and often, always turning its head towards the dear calf, and by its eyes proving the intensity of its grief. And I, when I had reached, I know not how, the mountain top, with my mind one way and my body elsewhere, I tried still to see my son, but I could not, the distance was too great. Then I burst into prayer to God, weeping for my captive son and the murdered saints."

Nilus, having escaped with his young son Theodulus into the deserts of Sinai, settled with the monks and served God in the solitude and peace he had long desired. "Among these," Nilus continues, "Caesar's money doesn't circulate here, as they neither buy nor sell. Each person is ready to give whatever the other needs. They have only olives and dates, and rarely bread to share, but it becomes acts of charity, showing their generous intentions. There's no envy among them; those who do less good don’t feel jealous of those who do more. Their cells aren’t close together but spaced out, not because of a lack of love, but so they can focus on the example God has set for them in peace and silence. On the Lord’s Day, they all gather in one church and meet once a week; otherwise, total isolation might break their bonds of unity and lead them to forget their responsibilities to each other, making their behavior harsh and unruly. After participating in the Divine Mysteries, they gather for conversation. But why should I say more about their ways? Suddenly, a storm broke, and a group of barbarians attacked the settlement early one morning, just as the hymns had stopped. I was there with my son. I was coming down the holy [Pg 204] mountain to visit the Saints living in the bush, as I often did, when I heard shouting, cries, and what sounded like barking dogs; the barbarians seized everything the Saints had prepared for winter. They pulled them out of the church, stripped them, and surrounded them with drawn swords, their eyes filled with rage, ready to kill. They first commanded the priest to extend his neck, and he, without a cry, even though they slashed at his back, made the sign of the cross and whispered, 'Blessed be the Lord!' One blow sliced him from the spine to the jaw, cutting through his ear; the next hit him from shoulder to cheek. The holy man collapsed calmly. The evening before, that admirable man had said at supper, 'How do we know if we will all live to gather at the table again?' After that, they killed the man who lived with the old priest, followed by the boy who served them." Then the Arabs, brandishing their bloody weapons, charged after the monks, who scattered in all directions—some fleeing down the valley, and some, including Nilus, scrambling up the steep rocks of Sinai, where the Arabs didn’t bother to follow. Nilus escaped reluctantly, for his son was in the barbarians' hands. "I stood there in shock," he says, "not knowing what to do, tied to the child by my love, unable to flee until the boy signaled with his eyes for me to escape; but I could hardly make myself do it. My feet moved forward, dragging my body along, almost without my realizing, for my heart wouldn’t leave him, and I kept turning my face to look at my boy. Thus, I reached the mountain, following the others, and saw my poor boy taken away, unable to look around freely but stealing glances towards where I was. Such is the bond of nature that physical separation doesn’t break it; rather, it tears it cruelly. The cow led away moans pitifully and often, always turning its head toward its dear calf, with its eyes showing the depth of its sorrow. And I, when I reached—I don’t know how—the mountaintop, with my mind one way and my body elsewhere, tried still to see my son, but I couldn’t; the distance was too great. Then I broke into prayer to God, weeping for my captive son and the murdered saints."

"After the barbarians had killed many others, they went their way; and as day declined we were able, without fear, to descend and bury the bodies. We found some quite dead, but Theodulus, the priest, was still breathing and able to speak. Therefore we, sitting down there, passed the night there, weeping, at the old man's request." The dying priest bade them be of good cheer, reminding them that Job was robbed of his substance and his children, and was grievously plagued in his body, yet, trusting in God, he was given in the end more than he had lost. Then, kissing the survivors, he breathed forth his holy soul. S. Theodulus and these martyrs fell on Jan. 14th; but other sufferers who were put to death by this horde of barbarians are commemorated with them. S. Nilus gives an account of the sufferings of several of these, whom the Arabs hunted from the rocks, wherever there was a spring of water and a patch of herbage.

"After the barbarians had killed many people, they left; and as evening approached, we were able to go down without fear and bury the bodies. We found some completely dead, but Theodulus, the priest, was still breathing and able to talk. So we sat there and spent the night weeping at the old man's request." The dying priest encouraged them to be cheerful, reminding them that Job lost his wealth and his children and suffered greatly, yet still trusted in God and ultimately received more than he had lost. Then, after kissing the survivors, he breathed out his holy soul. St. Theodulus and these martyrs died on January 14th; however, other victims killed by this group of barbarians are commemorated alongside them. St. Nilus recounts the sufferings of several of these individuals, whom the Arabs pursued from the rocks, wherever there was a spring of water and a patch of grass.

Nilus, having obtained money, went into the desert in quest of the Arabs, in company with an armed embassy, to their chief or king, that he might ransom his son. "Having gone eight days, we were hard pressed for want of water; but those who knew the locality said that there was a spring somewhere near. So the party ran here and there in their eagerness to find and enjoy it; and I went along too, but on account of my age was not able to travel as fast as they, and could not run without loss of dignity. Now the [Pg 206] well was really behind them, hidden behind a little hill, so that they kept rushing further from it, and I, ascending the mound, lighted suddenly upon it, for it lay on the other side, and there I saw a number of Arabs gathered round it. When I thus fell into the hands of the enemy, I cannot say whether I was glad or sorry, for I was between the two conditions of mind, being fearful for my personal safety, but very anxious to see my son, whom I hoped to deliver out of captivity, or at least to share captivity with him. Those who had accompanied me escaped, throwing themselves down, and creeping away behind the hill; but the barbarians, shouting, surrounded me, and dragged me violently about, but I looked about with great desire, hoping among them to catch a sight of my boy.

Nilus, having gotten some money, went into the desert looking for the Arabs, accompanied by an armed group, to reach their chief or king in order to ransom his son. "After eight days of traveling, we were really struggling due to a lack of water; however, those who knew the area said there was a spring nearby. So, the group scattered in their eagerness to find and enjoy it; I went along too, but because of my age, I couldn't keep up with them and couldn't run without losing my dignity. The well was actually behind them, hidden by a small hill, so they kept moving farther away from it, while I climbed the mound and suddenly discovered it, as it was on the other side. There, I saw a group of Arabs gathered around it. When I found myself in the hands of the enemy, I couldn't say if I felt relieved or anxious, as I was caught between two emotions—fearful for my safety but very eager to see my son, whom I hoped to rescue from captivity or at least share in his captivity. Those who had accompanied me escaped by throwing themselves down and crawling away behind the hill; however, the barbarians, shouting, surrounded me and pulled me around roughly, but I looked around hopefully, hoping to catch a glimpse of my boy."

"Suddenly, some of our party, armed, appeared on the horizon, and the barbarians, in great alarm, fled away, and in a moment the spot where they had swarmed was bare and lifeless.

"Suddenly, some of our group, armed, showed up on the horizon, and the barbarians, in panic, ran away, leaving the place where they had gathered empty and lifeless."

"Next day we continued our course, and so for four days did we persevere, till we reached the camp; and when it was announced that there were ambassadors come to the King, we were brought before Haman, the chief of the barbarians. Who, when we had presented gifts, gave us a gracious reception, and lodged us near him, till he could make perquisition for the offenders. My heart beat violently, and I waited the result in an agony of suspense. Every sound seemed to me to speak of him whom I sought so anxiously; my ears were ever on the alert, and my mind on the stretch for the tidings, that I might be certified whether my son lived or was dead. Ever before my eyes I saw his image, sometimes I saw him killed in one way, sometimes in another, and I fancied I heard his weeping voice calling me. O wretched boy! art thou alive or art thou dead? If thou hast escaped death, what miserable bondage is thine? If [Pg 207] thou hast died, where is thine unburied corpse?

"Next day we continued our journey, and for four days we persevered until we reached the camp. When it was announced that ambassadors had come to the King, we were brought before Haman, the leader of the barbarians. After we presented our gifts, he welcomed us warmly and arranged for us to stay close to him while he looked into the situation. My heart raced, and I waited in a state of anxiety. Every sound seemed to remind me of the person I was desperately searching for; my ears were always alert, and my mind was focused on finding out whether my son was alive or dead. His image was constantly in my mind; sometimes I envisioned him dying in one way, sometimes in another, and I imagined I could hear his voice crying out for me. Oh, poor boy! Are you alive or are you dead? If you have escaped death, what a miserable fate you face! If you have died, where is your unburied body? [Pg 207]

"At last the messengers returned, and by their faces I read the sad news. 'You need not speak,' I said, 'I see in your countenances that I have no hope.' But they assured me that Theodulus, my little fellow, was not dead, but was sold to some one or other in the city Eleusa. Then I resolved to go there in quest of him. But I had no rest in mind, for I thought, Well, if he lives, he is lost to me, for he serves as a slave; he cannot follow his free will, but is for ever subject to the caprice of a master.

At last, the messengers came back, and from their faces, I could tell the bad news. "You don't need to say anything," I said. "I can see on your faces that there's no hope for me." But they reassured me that Theodulus, my little boy, was not dead; he had been sold to someone in the city of Eleusa. So, I decided to go there to find him. But I couldn't find peace in my mind, because I thought, well, if he’s alive, he’s lost to me; he’s a slave now and can’t choose his own path, always at the mercy of a master’s whims.

"As we were on our way to Eleusa, a young man, driving some laden animals, met us. He had already seen me in the camp, and he knew all about my affair. He, being in Eleusa, made inquiries, and learned that my son had been brought there by the barbarians, and had been sold. Seeing me coming, he advanced last and smiling towards me, and when we were within speaking distance, he shouted cheerily to me, and stretching forth his right hand, he turned it behind him over his shoulder, and pulled out a letter from his quiver, which he gave to me, telling me that my boy was alive, and bade me be of good cheer, and not to be out of heart because he was a slave, for he had been bought by a Christian priest.

"As we were heading to Eleusa, a young man driving some loaded animals crossed our path. He had already seen me at the camp and knew all about my situation. While in Eleusa, he had inquired and found out that my son had been taken there by the barbarians and sold. When he spotted me approaching, he came over with a smile, and when we were close enough to talk, he cheerfully called out to me. He reached into his quiver, turned his hand over his shoulder, and pulled out a letter, which he handed to me. He told me that my son was alive and urged me to stay positive, assuring me not to lose heart just because he was a slave, since he had been bought by a Christian priest."

"Then I, being without money or home, and unable thus to reward the fellow, blessed him with many tears, and prayed that he might be abundantly rewarded by God for the joy he gave me, I being unable to offer him anything.

"Then I, having no money or place to stay, and unable to reward the guy, blessed him with many tears and prayed that he would be richly rewarded by God for the happiness he brought me, since I couldn't give him anything."

"But I, as soon as I reached the city, went first of all to the church, as to the source of all good, and I gave honour there to God, watering the pavement with my tears, and filling the sacred building with the sound of my sobs. Thence I was guided to the house where my son was, sending first of all before me messengers to break the news of my coming. All knew me, by the report which had preceded [Pg 208] me, to be the father of the boy who had been sold there, and there was not a person all along the street who did not express joy, in countenance, and running out of their houses with glad faces, seemed as though each rejoiced with me over a lost son re-found.

"But as soon as I got to the city, I went straight to the church, seeing it as the source of all goodness. I honored God there, crying so much that my tears soaked the pavement and filled the sacred space with the sound of my sobs. From there, I was led to the house where my son was, sending messengers ahead of me to announce my arrival. Everyone knew me from the news that had spread about being the father of the boy who had been sold, and every single person along the street expressed joy on their faces. They ran out of their homes, looking happy, as if each person was celebrating with me for finding my lost son again."

"Now when we came to the door of the house, he was called out and told that I was there, and they brought him to salute me. And when we saw one another, we did not rejoice, nor exclaim at first, but both cried till our tears dribbled over our breasts. He ran to me, but scarcely knew me, I was so ragged in dress, and my hair uncombed. Believing what others said rather than knowing me, he came with arms outspread and clasped me round with bursting heart. But I knew him when he was a long way off, though there were numbers of others there, for it was just the same face, stamped by constant remembrance on my mind; and unable to contain my joy, my strength suddenly failed me, and I fell down. Then the people, seeing me with open mouth on the ground, thought me dead. There was great outcry, but when my son had clasped me in his arms, my spirit came back, and I knew where I was, and who I was, whom I saw before me with mine eyes. Then I hugged him and he hugged me, never satisfying our great desire. However, at last, when more composed, I blamed myself to him as the cause of all these misfortunes, because I had taken him away from his home to a wild place which was full of danger, and it was so, as I said."

"Now when we reached the door of the house, he was called out and told that I was there, and they brought him over to greet me. When we saw each other, we didn't celebrate or shout at first, but we both cried until our tears soaked our clothes. He ran to me, barely recognizing me because I was so ragged and my hair was a mess. Believing what others had said instead of truly knowing me, he came with his arms open and embraced me with a full heart. But I recognized him from a distance, even though there were many others around, because it was the same face, etched in my memory. Unable to contain my joy, my strength suddenly gave out, and I collapsed. Then the people, seeing me lying on the ground and open-mouthed, thought I was dead. There was a huge commotion, but when my son held me in his arms, my spirit returned, and I realized where I was and who was in front of me. Then I hugged him, and he hugged me back, never fully satisfying our deep longing. Eventually, when I was more calm, I blamed myself to him for all these troubles, because I had taken him away from his home to a dangerous place, and I was right."

Then Theodulus told his father all his adventures with the Arabs. "Father," said he, "on the night after we were taken, the barbarians had prepared everything for a sacrifice, altar, sword, incense, and the like, and we thought we were sure to be killed and offered up on the morrow. Then my fellow captive, in the night, ran away and escaped, but I was afraid to do so, not knowing whither to go in the desert, but [Pg 209] I prayed to God till I fell asleep. And, waking early in the morning when dawn broke on the horizon, I knelt with my hands on my knees, and my face bowed upon them, wetting my bosom with my tears, and again with my whole heart I cried out to Him who alone could deliver me, 'Thou, Lord, alone hast power over life and death, Thou hast shown wonders of old and hast delivered Thy servants out of peril. Thou didst save Isaac, lying on the altar, and Joseph from the hands of his brethren. Save me, too, for Thy great Name's sake.'

Then Theodulus told his father all about his experiences with the Arabs. "Dad," he said, "on the night after we were captured, the barbarians got everything ready for a sacrifice—an altar, a sword, incense, and more—and we thought we were definitely going to be killed and offered up the next day. Then, in the night, my fellow captive managed to run away and escape, but I was too scared to do the same, not knowing where to go in the desert. So, I prayed to God until I fell asleep. When I woke up early in the morning as dawn broke on the horizon, I knelt with my hands on my knees, my face resting on them, soaking my chest with my tears, and once again with all my heart I cried out to Him who alone could save me, 'You, Lord, have the power over life and death. You’ve shown wonders in the past and rescued Your servants from danger. You saved Isaac lying on the altar, and Joseph from his brothers. Save me too, for the sake of Your great Name.'”

"Then, presently, the Arabs awoke, and making a great noise because my companion was gone, asked me where he was; but when I said that I did not know, because I had not run away, they were not angry. Then my mind became calm, and I blessed God. After that they consulted, and brought me to the city to sell me. They stripped me naked, and put a sword round my neck, to show that if I was not bought they would kill me. Then I was exposed for sale, and I stretched out my hands suppliantly to the purchasers to save me from death, promising my glad service if they would redeem my blood. Then after a while he came by and bought me, even the Bishop of this place."

"Then, soon after, the Arabs woke up, making a lot of noise because my companion was gone, and asked me where he was; but when I said that I didn’t know because I hadn’t run away, they weren't angry. Then my mind became calm, and I thanked God. After that, they discussed it and took me to the city to sell me. They stripped me naked and put a sword around my neck to show that if I wasn’t bought, they would kill me. Then I was put up for sale, and I stretched out my hands pleadingly to the buyers to save me from death, promising my eager service if they would spare my life. Then, after a while, he came by and bought me, the Bishop of this place."

Now the Bishop had bought the boy out of charity, and he at once surrendered him to his father, regarding nothing the price he had paid for him, and he, moreover, furnished them with food for their long journey home; and before he dismissed them, feeling confident of their vocation, he ordained [Pg 210] together to the priesthood both father and son.

Now the Bishop had bought the boy out of kindness, and he immediately handed him over to his father, not caring about the price he had paid for him. He also provided them with food for their long journey home; and before he let them go, feeling sure about their purpose, he ordained both father and son to the priesthood.

S. DATIUS, ABP. C., OF MILAN.

(a.d. 552.)

(A.D. 552.)

[Roman and other Latin Martyrologies. Datius, Dacius, or Dasius, is spoken of by Procopius Cassidorus, whose letter to S. Datius is extant, and by S. Gregory the Great, who relates the incident of his reduction of the evil spirits to silence, narrated in the text, in his Dialogues, lib. iii., c. 4.]

[Roman and other Latin Martyrologies. Datius, Dacius, or Dasius is referenced by Procopius Cassidorus, whose letter to S. Datius still exists, and by S. Gregory the Great, who recounts the story of his power to silence evil spirits, as detailed in his Dialogues, book iii, chapter 4.]

S. Datius ruled the see of Milan in a stormy time, when Italy was over-run with the Goths. When Milan was threatened, S. Datius implored Belisarius to come to its protection, or send troops to defend the city. Belisarius was then at Rome, and S. Datius made the journey to Rome, on purpose to urge upon him, in person, the protection of the city. Belisarius, though hard pressed through the deficiency of supplies afforded him by the Emperor Justinian, detached a body of men to the defence of the Milanese, and for a time Milan was thought to be safe. Soon, however, a large army of Goths and Burgundians swooped down upon it and besieged it. Belisarius, seeing the danger to which the city was exposed, sent troops under his generals, Martin and Uliaris, to the succour. But they, through timidity, did not venture to attack the Goths. In the city famine prevailed to such an extent, that as S. Datius relates in his Annals, an unfortunate mother roasted and ate her infant, that being the first morsel she had eaten since her confinement. The city was surrendered, but the terms of surrender were not kept. It was given up to plunder, and the streets ran with the blood of the butchered citizens. What became of the Archbishop is not known; some assert that he was taken captive to Ravenna, but was liberated at the intercession of his friend Cassiodorus.

S. Datius led the Milanese church during a turbulent time when Italy was overwhelmed by the Goths. When Milan was in danger, S. Datius begged Belisarius to come to its aid or send troops to defend the city. At that time, Belisarius was in Rome, and S. Datius traveled there specifically to plead with him in person for the city's protection. Although Belisarius was struggling due to insufficient supplies from Emperor Justinian, he sent a contingent of soldiers to defend Milan, and for a while, the city seemed safe. However, a large army of Goths and Burgundians soon descended on it and laid siege. Realizing the threat to the city, Belisarius sent troops led by his generals, Martin and Uliaris, to help. Unfortunately, they were too timid to confront the Goths. Inside the city, famine was so severe that, as S. Datius recounts in his Annals, a desperate mother cooked and ate her own infant, the first food she had since giving birth. The city eventually surrendered, but the terms were ignored. It was left open to plunder, and blood flowed in the streets from the slaughtered citizens. What happened to the Archbishop is unclear; some say he was captured and taken to Ravenna, but was freed thanks to the intervention of his friend Cassiodorus.

The Arian King, Totila, drove S. Datius from his see, and he escaped to Constantinople. On his way occurred that incident recorded by S. Gregory the Great, by which he is [Pg 211] chiefly known. Arriving at Corinth, and looking about for a large house, which would lodge him and his companions, he saw a mansion, which seemed exactly suited to his purpose, and was apparently unoccupied. Having instituted inquiries, he was told that the house was haunted, and that it was impossible for any man to spend the night in it. "Ghost and devil will not scare a servant of God!" said S. Datius, and he ordered beds to be made in the haunted house. He said his prayers as usual, and then retired to rest. About midnight he was aroused by a hideous rout, like the braying of asses, the grunting of swine, the squeaking of rats, and the hissing of serpents. Then Datius, raising himself in bed, shouted, "Oh, Satan! thou who saidst in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt my throne above the stars of God: I will be like the most High! (Isa. xiv. 13, 14.) Well done, I say, Satan. Thou, who wouldst be like God, art reduced to bray like a jackass, and grunt like a hog." Instantly there was dead silence, and S. Datius was no more troubled with unearthly noises.

The Arian King, Totila, forced S. Datius out of his position, and he fled to Constantinople. On his way, he experienced an event noted by S. Gregory the Great, by which he is [Pg 211] mostly remembered. Upon arriving in Corinth and searching for a large house to accommodate himself and his companions, he found a mansion that seemed perfect for his needs and appeared to be empty. After asking around, he learned that the house was haunted and that it was impossible for anyone to spend the night there. "Ghosts and demons won't scare a servant of God!" declared S. Datius, and he ordered beds to be set up in the haunted house. He said his prayers as usual, then went to sleep. Around midnight, he was awakened by a terrifying racket that sounded like the braying of donkeys, the grunting of pigs, the squeaking of rats, and the hissing of snakes. Datius then sat up in bed and shouted, "Oh, Satan! you who said in your heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will raise my throne above the stars of God: I will be like the Most High! (Isa. xiv. 13, 14.) Well done, I say, Satan. You, who wanted to be like God, have been reduced to braying like a donkey and grunting like a pig." Immediately, there was complete silence, and S. Datius was no longer disturbed by any supernatural sounds.

B. ORDORICO, O.S.F.

(A.D. 1331.)

(A.D. 1331.)

[His life, by several writers on the Franciscan Saints. His travels were dictated by him to Friar Guglielmo, who wrote them down, and added an account of his death. No copy of his original Latin MS. exists, and the Italian and Latin copies we have vary so much from one another that it is difficult to know which is the most correct. Copyists, not considering the things related in his travels as sufficiently marvellous, have supplied by their fancy what Ordorico never dictated. Although no copy of the original MS. exists, we can trace the progress of amplification and error by comparing the oldest and best account of the travels extant, with some of the later narratives of Friar Ordorico's life and adventure.]

His life has been documented by several authors in the Franciscan Saints. He shared his travels with Friar Guglielmo, who recorded them and included a description of his death. No copies of his original Latin manuscript exist, and the Italian and Latin versions we do have differ so much that it’s difficult to determine which is the most accurate. Copyists, believing the stories from his travels weren’t impressive enough, added details that Ordorico never mentioned. Even though we don’t have a copy of the original manuscript, we can track the development of exaggerations and errors by comparing the oldest and most reliable accounts of the travels with some of the later narratives about Friar Ordorico's life and adventures.

Among the early travellers in the East a conspicuous [Pg 212] place is due to Friar Ordorico de Pordenone, commonly called Il Beato, the Blessed. He was born in the district of Pordenone, in the Friuli, about the year 1286. Early in life he entered the Order of Friars Minors, or Franciscans, and took the vows in their house at Udine. After many years of exemplary life and industry he girded up his loins for the perilous pilgrimage and great mission—that is, he proceeded to the remote countries of the East to convert the infidel and idolater. He is believed to have been absent from Italy for the long space of sixteen years. He took with him his monastic habit, his cord, and his pilgrim's staff, and apparently no other thing. Where there were Christians, he claimed their charity; and where there were none, he threw himself upon the hospitality of the unbelievers. Friar Ordorico went from the Adriatic Sea to Constantinople, and proceeding from that great city to the Black Sea, he landed at Trebizond. From Trebizond he travelled through Armenia and Persia, and came to Ormuz on the Persian Gulf. At Ur of the Chaldees, he was shocked to find that the men did the knitting and spinning; and he was surprised that they liked a head of venison more than four fat partridges. At Bagdad, says he, the men are handsome and the women ugly; the women carry loads and the men saunter about in idleness. But this, alas! is not confined to Bagdad. At the port of Balsora he embarked, and crossing the Indian Ocean, he reached the coasts of Malabar. There, says he, he much surprised, the people prefer dates to venison. Thence he turned round upon Ceylon. He landed in that magnificent island, and travelled through the greater part of it. He describes the quantities of elephants which are found in the interior of that country; the blood-sucking land-leeches, so well-known to the Indians, which render the passage through the jungle so painful to Europeans; he correctly describes the general qualities of [Pg 213] that remarkable tree, the talipot, which flourishes in the island of Ceylon, and in the contiguous Malabar country. He mentions Adam's Peak, and the lake at its side, which the natives told him was formed of the tears of Adam and Eve after their fall. "But," adds the friar, "I perceived this to be false, for I saw the water flowing from the mountain into the lake, and filling it." He adds that on the sides of the lake rubies are discovered. His account of the pearl fishery is without exaggeration. In the neighbouring continent some of the Brahminical superstitions are correctly set down. The excessive cruelty and indisputable cannibalism of the Andaman Islanders, who are called natives of Bodan, are accurately noted. So shocked was the friar with what he saw there, that he remained there some while preaching, but he admits with no success. Then he voyaged to Meliapore. After this he ran down the Indian Ocean to Sumatra and Java, whence he appears to have reached some of the islands of Japan, which he calls Zapan. He next entered the empire of China, and there he remained several years. He travelled through various of the vast provinces of China, and then turned West, and after long and dangerous wayfaring, he entered the country of Thibet.

Among the early travelers in the East, a notable figure is Friar Ordorico de Pordenone, commonly known as Il Beato, or the Blessed. He was born in the Pordenone area of Friuli around 1286. At a young age, he joined the Order of Friars Minors, or Franciscans, and took his vows at their house in Udine. After many years of devoted and industrious living, he prepared for a challenging pilgrimage—a mission to the distant lands of the East to convert non-believers. It's believed he was away from Italy for a remarkable sixteen years. He brought with him his monastic robe, his cord, and his pilgrim's staff, and seemingly nothing else. Where there were Christians, he relied on their generosity; where there were none, he appealed to the hospitality of the non-believers. Friar Ordorico traveled from the Adriatic Sea to Constantinople, and from that great city to the Black Sea, where he landed at Trebizond. From Trebizond, he journeyed through Armenia and Persia and reached Ormuz on the Persian Gulf. In Ur of the Chaldees, he was astonished to find men knitting and spinning, and he was surprised to learn that they preferred a head of venison over four fat partridges. He remarked that in Bagdad, the men were handsome while the women were unattractive; the women carried heavy loads while the men lounged around idly. Unfortunately, this was not unique to Bagdad. At the port of Balsora, he boarded a ship and, crossing the Indian Ocean, arrived on the shores of Malabar. There, he noted with surprise that the locals preferred dates over venison. He then turned to Ceylon, landing on that beautiful island and exploring much of it. He described the large number of elephants found inland, the blood-sucking leeches that made journeying through the jungle painful for Europeans, and he accurately described the notable talipot tree that grows in Ceylon and neighboring Malabar. He mentioned Adam's Peak and the lake beside it, which the locals claimed was formed from the tears of Adam and Eve after their fall. "But," the friar added, "I realized this was false because I saw water flowing from the mountain into the lake, filling it." He also noted that rubies are found along the shores of the lake. His account of the pearl fishery is accurate. In the nearby continent, he correctly recorded some Brahminical superstitions. He precisely noted the extreme cruelty and undeniable cannibalism of the Andaman Islanders, who are known as natives of Bodan. The friar was so horrified by what he witnessed there that he stayed for a while preaching but admits he had no success. He then traveled to Meliapore. After that, he journeyed down the Indian Ocean to Sumatra and Java, from where he seems to have reached some of the islands of Japan, which he termed Zapan. He subsequently entered the Chinese empire, where he remained for several years, traveling through many of the vast provinces of China. Eventually, he turned west and, after a long and perilous journey, entered the country of Tibet.

In company with three other friars, he was one day resting with them under a tree, when the Khan passed by. Then one of the friars, who was a bishop, put on his pontifical vestments, and took his pastoral cross, and all four advanced to meet the Khan chanting the Veni Creator. Then the Khan stopped his car, and asked who these were, and when told that they were four Frank missionaries, he called them to him, and kissed the cross of the bishop. Then, because it is the custom of the country not to approach the king empty-handed, the friars offered him a plate with some apples on it. The Khan took two, ate one, and drove away tossing [Pg 214] the other about in his hands. From his kissing the cross the friars were satisfied that he knew something of the Catholic faith.

One day, while resting under a tree with three other friars, a Khan passed by. One of the friars, who was a bishop, put on his ceremonial robes and took his pastoral cross, and all four approached the Khan chanting the Veni Creator. The Khan stopped his carriage and asked who they were, and when informed that they were four Frank missionaries, he called them over and kissed the bishop's cross. Since it’s customary in the country not to approach the king empty-handed, the friars offered him a plate of apples. The Khan took two, ate one, and drove off tossing the other in his hands. The friars felt assured that he had some knowledge of the Catholic faith because he kissed the cross.

The account left of these travels breaks off abruptly in Thibet, leaving us entirely in the dark as to the route and the manner by which the friar reached Europe. It is known, however, from a postscript to his book, that he returned in 1330, when he was forty-four years old. His health appears to have been much broken by the fatigues and privations he had undergone during his peregrinations; and he died within a few months after his return to his native country.[51]

The account of these travels ends abruptly in Tibet, leaving us completely in the dark about how the friar made his way back to Europe. However, from a postscript to his book, we know that he returned in 1330 when he was forty-four years old. His health seems to have been severely impacted by the exhaustion and hardships he faced during his journeys, and he passed away within a few months after returning to his homeland.[51]

Hermit Saints. S. Anthony. Hermit Saints. S. Anthony.

FOOTNOTES:

[50] The narrative of S. Nilus is necessarily much condensed. I regret having to do this, as it is most touching in its entirety.

[50] The story of S. Nilus is inevitably quite brief. I'm sorry to have to do this, as it is really moving in full.

[51] A much fuller account of the travels of B. Ordorico than I am able to give here may be read in MacFarlane's "Romance of Travel," II. c. 1. The most correct version of these travels is that given by Bollandus, Jan. T. 1, pp. 920-986, which MacFarlane does not seem to have seen.

[51] A more detailed description of B. Ordorico's travels than I can provide here can be found in MacFarlane's "Romance of Travel," II. c. 1. The most accurate version of these travels is the one presented by Bollandus, Jan. T. 1, pp. 920-986, which MacFarlane doesn't appear to have reviewed.


January 15.

S. Ephysius, M., at Cagliari.
S. Paul, the First Hermit in Egypt, a.d. 341.
S. Macarius of Egypt, P. and Ab., in Scété, a.d. 391.
S. Isidore, P. and Monk, at Alexandria, a.d. 404.
S. Alexander Acœmetus, at Constantinople, circ. a.d. 430.
S. John the Calybite, 5th cent.
S. Maurus, Ab. of Glanfeuil, in France, a.d. 584.
S. Ytha, V., in Ireland, 6th cent.
S. Bonitus, or Bon, B. of Claremont, beginning of 8th cent.
S. Embert, B. of Cambrai, beginning of 8th cent.
S. Ceolwulf, K. and Monk, in England, 8th cent.

S. Ephysius, M., in Cagliari.
S. Paul, the First Hermit in Egypt, A.D. 341.
S. Macarius of Egypt, Priest and Abbot, in Scété, A.D. 391.
S. Isidore, Priest and Monk, in Alexandria, A.D. 404.
S. Alexander Acœmetus, in Constantinople, around A.D. 430.
S. John the Calybite, 5th century.
S. Maurus, Abbot of Glanfeuil, in France, A.D. 584.
S. Ytha, Virgin, in Ireland, 6th century
S. Bonitus, or Bon, Bishop of Claremont, beginning of 8th century
S. Embert, Bishop of Cambrai, beginning of 8th century
S. Ceolwulf, King and Monk, in England, 8th century

S. PAUL, THE FIRST HERMIT IN EGYPT.

(a.d. 341.)

(A.D. 341.)

[S. Paul died on Jan. 10th, on which day he is commemorated in most ancient Martyrologies, as the Roman, that of Cologne, Bede, &c. But both Greeks and Latins have transferred his feast to Jan. 15th, so as not to interfere with the celebration of the Octave of the Epiphany. The York Breviary and those of Paul III., and of the Dominican Order, commemorate him on the 29th Jan. His life, written by S. Jerome, is perfectly authentic. The following is a translation, much abridged, from the original.]

S. Paul died on January 10th, which is the day he is celebrated in most ancient Martyrologies, including those of Rome, Cologne, and Bede. However, both Greek and Latin traditions have shifted his feast to January 15th to avoid overlapping with the celebration of the Octave of the Epiphany. The York Breviary and those of Paul III and the Dominican Order remember him on January 29th. His life, written by S. Jerome, is completely authentic. The following is a much shorter translation of the original.

U.

nder the persecuting Emperors Decius and Valerius, at the time that Cornelius was Bishop at Rome, and Cyprian, Bishop at Carthage, were condemned to shed their blessed blood, a cruel tempest swept over the Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.

Under the persecuting Emperors Decius and Valerius, when Cornelius was Bishop of Rome and Cyprian was Bishop of Carthage, they were condemned to shed their holy blood, and a cruel storm swept through the Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.

"In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul, to whom had been left a rich inheritance, at the death of both his parents, with a sister already married. He was then about fifteen years old, well taught in Greek and Egyptian literature, gentle tempered, and loving God much. When the [Pg 216] storm of persecution burst, he withdrew into a distant city. But his sister's husband purposed to betray him, notwithstanding the tears of his wife; however, the boy discovered it, and fled into the desert hills. Once there, necessity became a pleasure, and going on, and then stopping awhile, he reached at last a stony cliff, at the foot of which was a great cave; its mouth closed with a stone. Having rolled this away, and exploring more greedily, he saw within a great vault open to the sky above, but shaded by the spreading boughs of an ancient date-palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill of which, flowing a short space forth, was sucked up again by the soil.

"In those days, in Lower Thebes, there was Paul, who inherited a large fortune after both his parents passed away, leaving him with a married sister. He was around fifteen years old, well-educated in Greek and Egyptian literature, gentle by nature, and very devout. When the [Pg 216] wave of persecution began, he retreated to a distant city. However, his sister's husband planned to betray him, despite his wife's pleas. The boy found out about the plan and escaped into the desert hills. Once there, he discovered that necessity became a pleasure; traveling a bit and then resting, he eventually came to a rocky cliff with a large cave at its foot, blocked by a stone. After rolling the stone away and exploring eagerly, he found a wide vault open to the sky, shaded by the branches of an old date-palm. Inside, there was a clear spring, its water flowing for a short distance before being absorbed back into the ground."

"There were, besides, not a few dwellings in that cavernous mountain, in which he saw rusty anvils and hammers, with which coin that had been stamped of old. For this place was an old workshop for base coin.

"There were also several homes in that vast mountain, where he saw rusty anvils and hammers used to make old coins. This place was an old workshop for counterfeit money."

"Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God, he spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree gave him food and clothes.

"Therefore, in this cherished home, practically given to him by God, he spent his entire life in prayer and solitude, while the palm tree provided him with food and clothing."

"When the blessed Paul had been leading the heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and Antony, ninety years old, was dwelling in another solitude, this thought (so Antony was wont to assert) entered his mind—that no monk more perfect than himself had settled in the desert. But as he lay still by night, it was revealed to him that there was another monk far better than he, to visit whom he must set out. So when the light broke, the venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on a staff, began to go he knew not whither. And now the mid-day, with the sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not turned from the journey he had begun, for he said 'I trust in my God, that he will show His servant that which He has promised.' Antony went on through that region, seeing only the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of the desert. What he should do, or whither turn, he knew not. A second day had now run by.

"When the blessed Paul had been living a heavenly life on earth for 113 years, and Antony, at ninety years old, was staying in another solitude, this thought (as Antony would often say) crossed his mind—that no monk more perfect than himself had settled in the desert. But as he lay still at night, it was revealed to him that there was another monk who was far better than he, and he needed to set out to visit him. So when the light broke, the venerable old man, leaning on a staff to support his frail limbs, began to walk to a place he did not know. By midday, with the sun blazing overhead, the heat grew intense; yet he did not turn back from the journey he had started, for he said, 'I trust in my God that He will show His servant what He has promised.' Antony continued through the region, seeing only the tracks of wild animals and the vast emptiness of the desert. He had no idea what to do or where to turn. A second day had now passed."

HERMIT SAINT.

One thing remained, to be confident that he could not be deserted by Christ. All night through he spent a second darkness in prayer, and while the light was still dim, he saw afar a she-wolf, panting with heat and thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain. Following her with his eyes, and drawing nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began to look in: but in vain; for the darkness stopped his view. However, as the Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and bated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly, and stopping often, watched for a sound. At length he saw afar off a light through the horror of the darkness; then he hastened on more greedily, struck his foot against a stone, and made a noise, at which the blessed Paul shut and barred his door, which had stood open.

One thing remained: he was sure that he couldn’t be abandoned by Christ. He spent another dark night in prayer, and while the light was still faint, he saw a she-wolf from a distance, panting with heat and thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain. As he followed her with his eyes and approached the cave after the beast had left, he began to look inside, but it was useless; the darkness blocked his view. However, as the Scripture says, perfect love drives out fear; with cautious steps and held breath, the clever explorer entered, moving forward slowly and pausing often to listen for any sound. Finally, he saw a light faintly shining through the heavy darkness; then he hurried on more eagerly, tripped over a stone, and made a noise, causing the blessed Paul to shut and lock his door, which had been left open.

"Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there till the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, 'Who I am, and whence, and why I am come, thou knowest I know that I deserve not to see thy face; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return. Thou who receivest beasts, why repellest thou a man? I have sought, and I have found. I knock that it may be opened to me: which if I win not, here will I die before thy gate. Surely thou shalt at least bury my corpse.'

"Then Antony, throwing himself down at the entrance, prayed there until the sixth hour, and even longer, to be allowed in, saying, 'You know who I am, where I come from, and why I have come. I know I don’t deserve to see your face; yet, unless I see you, I won’t leave. You who accept animals, why do you reject a man? I have sought, and I have found. I knock so that it may be opened to me: if I don’t succeed, I will die here at your gate. Surely you will at least bury my body.'"

"'No one begs thus to threaten. No one does injury with tears. And dost thou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal guest?' Thus spake Paul, and then smiling, he opened the door. They mutually embraced and saluted each other by name, and committed themselves in common to the grace of God. And after the holy kiss, Paul, sitting down with Antony, thus began—

"'No one begs like that to threaten. No one causes harm with tears. And do you wonder why I won't let you in, since you're just a mortal guest?' Paul said, and then, smiling, he opened the door. They embraced each other and greeted each other by name, committing themselves to the grace of God together. After the holy kiss, Paul sat down with Antony and began—

"'Behold him whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs decayed by age, and covered with unkempt white [Pg 218] hair. Behold, thou seest but a mortal, soon to become dust. But, because charity bears all things, tell me, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether new houses are rising in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the world governed? whether there are any left who are led captive by the deceits of the devil?' As they spoke thus, they saw a raven settle on a bough; who, flying gently down, laid, to their wonder, a whole loaf before them. When he was gone, 'Ah,' said Paul, 'the Lord truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a meal. For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf, but, at thy coming, Christ hath doubled his soldiers' allowance.' Then, having thanked God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.

"Look at him whom you've sought with such effort; with limbs worn by age, and covered in messy white hair. Look, you see only a mortal, who will soon turn to dust. But since love endures all things, please tell me how humanity is doing? Are new houses being built in the old cities? Which emperor is ruling the world? Are there still any left who are deceived by the devil's tricks?" As they were talking, they saw a raven land on a branch; it flew down gently and, to their surprise, placed a whole loaf of bread before them. Once it was gone, Paul said, "Ah, the Lord is truly loving and truly merciful; He has sent us a meal. For the past sixty years, I've received only half a loaf each day, but with your arrival, Christ has doubled the soldiers' food." After giving thanks to God, they sat down by the edge of the clear 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, offering to God the sacrifice of praise, they passed the night watching.

"But here a disagreement arose about who should break the loaf, taking up their day until nearly evening. Paul insisted he should do it since he was the host; Antony refused, arguing he was the younger man. Eventually, they decided to each grab the loaf at opposite ends, pull it towards themselves, and keep whatever was left in their hands. After that, they bent down and had a bit of water from the spring; then, offering praise to God, they spent the night watching."

"And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, 'I knew long since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long since God had promised thee to me as a fellow-servant: but because the time of my falling asleep is now come, and (because I always longed to depart, and to be with Christ) there is laid up for me, when I have finished my course, a crown of righteousness; therefore thou art sent from the Lord to cover my corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.'

"And when day broke again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, 'I knew a long time ago, brother, that you were living in these lands; God had promised me that you would be my fellow servant: but now that the time of my passing is here, and because I have always wanted to leave and be with Christ, there is a crown of righteousness waiting for me once I finish my journey; so you have been sent by the Lord to bury my body and return dust to dust.'"

"Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert him, but take him as his companion on such a journey. But he said, 'Thou must not seek the things which are thine own, but the things of others. It is expedient [Pg 219] for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden of the flesh, and to follow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest of the brethren that they should be still trained by thine example. Wherefore go, unless it displeases thee, and bring the cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave thee, to wrap up my corpse.' But this the blessed Paul asked, not because he cared greatly whether his body decayed covered or bare (for he had long been used to clothe himself with woven palm leaves), but that Antony's grief at his death might be lightened when he left him. Antony astounded that he had heard of Athanasius and his own cloak, dared answer nothing: but keeping in silence, and kissing his eyes and hands, returned to the monastery. Tired and breathless, he arrived at home. There two disciples met him, who had been long sent to minister to him, and asked him, 'Where hast thou tarried so long, father?' He answered, 'Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of a monk. I have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul in Paradise;' and so, closing his lips, and beating his breast, he took the cloak from his cell, and when his disciples asked him to explain more fully what had befallen, he said, 'There is a time to be silent, and a time to speak.' Then going out, and not taking even a morsel of food, he returned by the way he had come. For he feared—what actually happened—lest Paul in his absence should render up his soul to Christ.

"Antony, hearing this, pleaded with tears and groans not to be abandoned but to be taken along on such a journey. But he said, 'You shouldn’t seek your own desires, but think of others. It’s better for you to let go of the burdens of the body and follow the Lamb; but it’s also important for the other brothers to be guided by your example. So go, if it doesn’t trouble you, and bring the cloak that Bishop Athanasius gave you to cover my body.’ But the blessed Paul asked this not because he was particularly concerned about whether his body decayed covered or uncovered (since he had long been used to wearing woven palm leaves), but so that Antony’s sorrow at his death might be eased when he left him. Antony, shocked that Paul knew of Athanasius and his own cloak, dared not respond: instead, he remained silent, kissed his eyes and hands, and returned to the monastery. Exhausted and out of breath, he reached home. There, two disciples who had been sent to assist him met him and asked, 'Where have you been so long, father?' He replied, 'Woe is me, a sinner, who falsely bears the name of a monk. I have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul in Paradise;' and with that, he sealed his lips and beat his breast as he took the cloak from his cell. When his disciples pressed him for more details about what had happened, he said, 'There is a time to be silent and a time to speak.' Then he went out, not even taking a crumb of food, and retraced his steps. He was afraid—what indeed came to pass—that Paul might pass away and go to Christ while he was gone."

"And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps for three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of prophets and apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on high. The blessed Antony used to tell afterwards, how he ran the rest of the way so swiftly, that he seemed to fly like a bird. Nor without cause. For entering the cave he saw Paul on bended knees, erect with hands spread out on high,—a lifeless [Pg 220] corpse. And at first, thinking that it still lived, he prayed in like wise. But when he heard no sighs come from the worshipper's breast, he gave him a tearful kiss, understanding how the very corpse of the Saint was praying to that God to whom all live.

"And when the second day dawned, and he had retraced his steps for three hours, he saw among a multitude of angels, amid the choirs of prophets and apostles, Paul shining as bright as snow, ascending high. The blessed Antony would later tell how he ran the rest of the way so quickly that he seemed to fly like a bird. And not without reason. For upon entering the cave, he saw Paul on his knees, upright with his hands raised high— a lifeless corpse. Initially, thinking it was still alive, he prayed similarly. But when he heard no breaths coming from the worshipper’s chest, he gave him a tearful kiss, realizing that the very body of the Saint was praying to the God to whom all live.

"So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting hymns, Antony grew sad, because he had no spade, wherewith to dig the ground; and thinking over many plans in his mind, said, 'If I go back to the monastery, it is a three days' journey. If I stay here, I shall be of no more use. I will die, then, as it is fit; and, falling beside thy warrior, O Christ! breathe my last breath.'

"So, after finishing up and taking the body away, and singing hymns, Antony became sad because he had no shovel to dig into the ground. As he considered various plans in his mind, he said, 'If I go back to the monastery, it will take three days to get there. If I stay here, I won't be of any more help. Then I'll die, as is right; and falling next to your warrior, O Christ! I'll take my last breath.'"

"As he was thinking thus to himself, two lions came running from the inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks. Seeing these, he shuddered at first: but then, turning his mind to God, he remained without fear. They came straight to the corpse of the blessed old man, and crouched at his feet, wagging their tails, and roaring with mighty growls, so that Antony understood them to lament, as best they could. Then they began to claw the ground with their paws, and, carrying out the sand eagerly, dug a place large enough to hold a man: then at once, as if begging a reward for their work, they came to Antony, drooping their necks, and licking his hands and feet. But he perceived that they prayed a blessing from him; and at once, bursting into praise of Christ, because even dumb animals felt that He was God, he said, 'Lord, without whose word not a leaf of the tree drops, nor one sparrow falls to the ground, give to them as thou knowest how to give.' And, signing to them with his hand, he bade them go.

As he was contemplating this, two lions came running out from deeper in the desert, their manes flowing on their necks. At first, he felt a shiver of fear, but then he focused on God and felt no fear. They went straight to the body of the blessed old man, crouched at his feet, wagging their tails and roaring with deep growls, which made Antony understand that they were mourning in their own way. Then they started scraping the ground with their paws and eagerly dug a hole big enough for a man. After that, as if asking for a reward for their effort, they approached Antony, lowering their heads and licking his hands and feet. He realized they were asking for a blessing from him; and immediately bursting into praise for Christ, understanding that even mute creatures recognized Him as God, he said, “Lord, without whose word not a leaf falls from a tree, nor a single sparrow hits the ground, give them what you know how to give.” He then waved them off with his hand, signaling for them to go.

"And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight of the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it, and raised a mound as is the wont. [Pg 221] And when another dawn shone, lest the pious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the intestate dead, he kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven out of the leaves of the palm; and returning to the monastery, told his disciples all throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter and Pentecost, he always clothed himself in Paul's tunic."

"And after they left, he stooped his weary shoulders under the weight of the sacred body; and placing it in the grave, he piled dirt on top and formed a mound as was customary. [Pg 221] And when another dawn broke, in case the devoted heir wouldn't have anything from the estate of the deceased, he kept for himself the tunic that Paul had made from palm leaves; and upon returning to the monastery, he shared everything with his disciples; and on the important days of Easter and Pentecost, he always wore Paul's tunic."

S. MACARIUS OF EGYPT, AB.

(a.d. 391.)

(A.D. 391.)

[Not to be confounded with S. Macarius of Alexandria (Jan. 2nd). This Macarius is commemorated by the Greeks on Jan. 19th; by the Roman later Martyrology on Jan. 15th, but in earlier ones on the same day as the other Macarius, Jan. 2nd. Authorities for his life are Palladius, in his History Lausiaca, a thoroughly trustworthy contemporary, Ruffinus, Sozomen, Socrates, Cassian, &c.]

[This should not be confused with S. Macarius of Alexandria (January 2nd). This Macarius is celebrated by the Greeks on January 19th, by the Roman later Martyrology on January 15th, but in earlier versions on the same day as the other Macarius, January 2nd. Sources for his life include Palladius in his History Lausiaca, a reliable contemporary, as well as Ruffinus, Sozomen, Socrates, Cassian, and others.]

S. Macarius the Elder was born in Upper Egypt, about the year 300, and was brought up in the country to attend cattle. In his childhood, in company with some others, he stole some figs and ate one of them; but from his conversion to his death, he never ceased bewailing this offence. By a powerful call of divine grace, he was led to desert the world in his youth, and to take up his abode in a little cell made of mats. A wicked woman falsely accused him of having deflowered her; for which supposed crime he was dragged through the streets, beaten and insulted, as a base hypocrite under the garb of a monk. He suffered all with patience, and sent the woman what he earned by his work, saying to himself, "Well, Macarius, having now another to provide for, you must work all the harder." But the woman, in the anguish of her travail, confessed that she had maligned him, and told the real name of her seducer. Then the people regarded him as a Saint, whom lately they would have slain. To shun the esteem of men he fled into the desert of Scété, [Pg 222] being then about thirty years of age. In this solitude he lived sixty years, and became the spiritual father of innumerable holy persons, who put themselves under his direction, and were governed by the rules he prescribed them; but all dwelt in separate hermitages. S. Macarius admitted only one disciple with him to entertain strangers.

S. Macarius the Elder was born in Upper Egypt around the year 300 and grew up in the countryside, tending to cattle. As a child, along with some friends, he stole some figs and ate one; but from the time he converted until his death, he constantly regretted this wrongdoing. By a powerful call of divine grace, he chose to leave the world behind in his youth and settled into a small cell made of mats. A malicious woman falsely accused him of having violated her; because of this supposed crime, he was dragged through the streets, beaten, and insulted as a lowly hypocrite pretending to be a monk. He endured everything with patience and sent the woman the money he earned from his work, telling himself, "Well, Macarius, now that you have someone else to take care of, you need to work even harder." However, in her pain during childbirth, the woman confessed that she had wronged him and revealed the real name of her seducer. The people then saw him as a Saint, someone they had just moments ago tried to kill. To escape their admiration, he fled to the desert of Scété, [Pg 222] when he was about thirty years old. He lived in this solitude for sixty years and became the spiritual father to countless holy individuals who sought his guidance and followed the rules he set for them; however, they all lived in separate hermitages. S. Macarius allowed only one disciple to stay with him to host strangers.

He was compelled by an Egyptian bishop to receive the order of priesthood, about the year 340, the fortieth of his age, that he might celebrate the Divine Mysteries for the convenience of his holy colony. When the desert became better peopled, there were four churches built in it, served by as many priests. The austerities of S. Macarius were very severe. He usually ate but once a week. Evagrius, his disciple, once asked him leave to drink a little water, under a parching thirst: but Macarius bade him be satisfied with reposing a little in the shade, saying, "For these twenty years I have never eaten, drunk, nor slept as much as nature demanded." To deny his own will, he did not refuse to drink a little wine, when others desired him; but he would punish himself for this indulgence by abstaining two or three days from all manner of drink; and it was for this reason that his disciples desired strangers never to tender him a drop of wine. He delivered his instructions in few words, and principally inculcated silence, humility, mortification and continual prayer, to all sorts of people. He used to say, "In prayer you need not use many or grand words. You can always repeat, Lord, show me mercy as Thou knowest best; or, Assist me, O Lord!"

He was urged by an Egyptian bishop to become a priest around the year 340, when he was forty years old, so he could perform the Divine Mysteries for his holy community. As the desert became more populated, four churches were built there, each served by a priest. St. Macarius practiced extreme austerity, usually eating only once a week. His disciple, Evagrius, once asked for permission to drink a bit of water due to intense thirst, but Macarius told him to be content with resting in the shade, saying, "For the last twenty years, I have never eaten, drunk, or slept as much as my body needed." To deny his own will, he wouldn’t refuse a little wine when others offered it, but he would punish himself for this indulgence by going without any drink for two or three days. For this reason, his disciples asked strangers not to offer him any wine. He gave his teachings in few words, mainly emphasizing silence, humility, self-denial, and constant prayer to everyone. He would often say, "In prayer, you don’t need to use many elaborate words. You can always say, Lord, show me mercy as you know best; or, Help me, O Lord!"

His mildness and patience were invincible, and occasioned the conversion of a heathen priest. A young man applying to S. Macarius for spiritual advice, he directed him to go to a burying place and upbraid the dead; and after that to go and flatter them. "Well," said Macarius, when the young man returned, "How did the dead receive thy abuse [Pg 223] of them." "They answered not a word," he replied. "And how did they behave when flattered?" "They took no notice of that either." "Go," said Macarius, "and do thou likewise."

His gentleness and patience were unstoppable, and led to the conversion of a pagan priest. A young man came to St. Macarius for spiritual guidance, and he instructed him to go to a cemetery and criticize the dead; after that, he should go and praise them. "Well," said Macarius when the young man returned, "how did the dead respond to your insults?" "They didn't say a word," he replied. "And how did they react when praised?" "They ignored that too." "Go," said Macarius, "and do the same."

A monk complained to Macarius that he could fast in the monastery, but not in solitude. "Ah!" said the abbot, "thou likest to have people see that thou art fasting. Beware of vainglory."

A monk told Macarius that he could fast in the monastery but not when alone. "Ah!" said the abbot, "you like having people see that you're fasting. Be careful of vanity."

God revealed to Macarius that two women in the nearest city excelled him in virtue, in spite of all his fasting, and tears, and prayer. He took his staff, and left the desert, and went in quest of them, and lo! they were two homely married women, of whom no one talked, but who were extremely careful not to say spiteful things of their neighbours, who had not the smallest idea that they were saints, and who laboured night and day to make home pleasant to their husbands and children.

God showed Macarius that two women in the nearby city were more virtuous than he was, despite all his fasting, tears, and prayers. He took his staff, left the desert, and set out to find them, and there they were: two plain married women, who nobody talked about, but who were very careful not to say anything mean about their neighbors. Those neighbors had no clue they were saints, and the women worked tirelessly day and night to make home comfortable for their husbands and kids.

Lucius, the Arian usurper of the see of Alexandria, who had expelled Peter, the successor of S. Athanasius, in 376, sent troops into the deserts, to disperse the zealous monks, several of whom sealed their faith with their blood. The chiefs, the two Macarii, Isidore, Pambo, and others, were banished, by the authority of the Emperor Valens, to a little isle of Egypt, in the midst of stagnant marshes. The inhabitants, who were pagans, were all converted to the faith by these confessors. The public indignation obliged Lucius to suffer them to return to their cells.

Lucius, the Arian usurper of the see of Alexandria, who had expelled Peter, the successor of St. Athanasius, in 376, sent troops into the deserts to break up the dedicated monks, several of whom showed their commitment by dying for their faith. The leaders, the two Macarii, Isidore, Pambo, and others, were exiled by Emperor Valens to a small island in Egypt, surrounded by stagnant marshes. The local residents, who were pagans, were all converted to the faith by these confessors. Public outrage forced Lucius to allow them to return to their homes.

The Church of God flashes forth some peculiar type of sanctity at one time, and then another. It is like a rain-drop in the sun, blazing now crimson, now green, now yellow, now blue. As there is need, God calls up an army of Saints, exactly adapted to meet the difficulties of the times, to uphold the truth, and form, as it were, a prop to stay up his tottering Church. Now it is the martyrs, who by their [Pg 224] constancy conquer the infidels, now it is these hermits of the Syrian and Egyptian deserts, against whose orthodoxy Arianism breaks and crumbles to powder. Humanly speaking, these hermits saved the doctrine of the Godhead of Christ from being denied, and disappearing from the creed of the Church. An age like the present, so like the condition of the Roman world in its highest civilization, when pleasure and self-will are the sole things sought, and when Arianism is in power in high places, and the learned and polished, admitting the excellency of Christianity in general, allow to Christ only the place of a founder of a school of religious thought—such an age as this seems one meet for the revival of the hermit life as a witness for the truth, and a protest against luxury. This, and this only, as far as we can judge, will meet the great want of the day; it is not preaching that will recover the multitude lapsed into religious indifference; it must be the example of men, believing with such a fiery faith, that they sacrifice everything the world holds precious, for the sake of the truth that Jesus Christ, the everlasting God, came in the Flesh.

The Church of God showcases different kinds of holiness at different times. It’s like a drop of rain in the sunlight, shining red, green, yellow, or blue. When needed, God assembles a group of Saints specifically suited to tackle the challenges of the moment, to uphold the truth, and to act as support for His struggling Church. Sometimes it's the martyrs, whose steadfastness defeats the infidels; other times it's the hermits from the Syrian and Egyptian deserts, whose traditional beliefs make Arianism falter and disintegrate. In a very real sense, these hermits preserved the doctrine of Christ’s divinity from being dismissed and removed from the Church's creed. Our current age resembles the Roman world at its peak, where pleasure and self-indulgence are the main pursuits, and Arianism holds sway among the elite, with the educated and refined acknowledging the general value of Christianity while restricting Christ to merely being a founder of a school of thought. This kind of era seems perfect for a revival of the hermit life as a testimony to the truth and a dissent against luxury. This alone, as far as we can tell, will address the pressing needs of the day; it’s not preaching that will bring back those who have lapsed into religious indifference; instead, it requires the example of men who believe with such intense faith that they’re willing to give up everything the world considers valuable for the truth that Jesus Christ, the eternal God, came in the Flesh.

Nothing in the wonderful history of the hermits of Egypt is so incredible as their number. But the most weighty authorities agree in establishing it. It was a kind of emigration of towns to the desert, of civilization to simplicity, of noise to silence, of corruption to innocence. The current once begun, floods of men, of women, and of children threw themselves into it, and flowed thither during a century, with resistless force. Let us quote some figures. Pachomius, who died at fifty-six, reckoned three thousand monks under his rule; his monasteries of Tabenna soon included seven thousand, and S. Jerome affirms that as many as fifty thousand were present at the annual gathering of the general congregation of monasteries which followed his rule.

Nothing in the remarkable history of the hermits of Egypt is as astonishing as their sheer number. However, respected scholars agree on its accuracy. It was a sort of migration from cities to the desert, from civilization to simplicity, from noise to silence, and from corruption to innocence. Once this movement started, waves of men, women, and children poured into it and flowed there for a century, with unstoppable force. Let’s look at some numbers. Pachomius, who died at fifty-six, reported three thousand monks under his leadership; his monasteries in Tabenna soon grew to seven thousand, and St. Jerome states that as many as fifty thousand attended the annual gathering of the general congregation of monasteries that followed his rule.

There were five thousand on the mountain of Nitria [Pg 225] alone. Nothing was more frequent than to see two hundred, three hundred, or five hundred monks under the same abbot. Near Arsinoë (now Suez), the abbot Serapion governed ten thousand, who, in the harvest time, spread themselves over the country to cut the corn, and thus gained the means of living and giving alms. It has even been asserted that there were as many monks in the deserts of Egypt as inhabitants in the towns. The towns themselves were, so to speak, inundated by them, since in 356, a traveller found in the single town of Oxyrynchus (Abou Girge) upon the Nile, ten thousand monks and twenty thousand virgins consecrated to God.[52] The immense majority of these religious were cenobites, that is to say, they lived in the same enclosure, and were united by common rule and practice under an elected head, whom they everywhere called abbot, from the Syriac word abba, which means father. The cenobitical life superseded rapidly, and almost completely, the life of solitaries. Scarcely any man became a solitary until after having been a cenobite, and in order to meditate upon God during the last years of his life. Custom has, therefore, given the title of monks to cenobites alone.

There were five thousand on the mountain of Nitria [Pg 225] alone. It was common to see two hundred, three hundred, or even five hundred monks under the same abbot. Near Arsinoë (now Suez), Abbot Serapion led ten thousand monks, who, during harvest season, spread out across the countryside to harvest grain, which helped support their living and allowed them to give to charity. It's even been claimed that there were as many monks in the deserts of Egypt as there were people in the towns. The towns themselves were, in a sense, overwhelmed by them, as in 356, a traveler discovered ten thousand monks and twenty thousand virgins dedicated to God in the single town of Oxyrynchus (Abou Girge) along the Nile.[52] The vast majority of these religious individuals were cenobites, meaning they lived together in the same community and followed a common set of rules under an elected leader, whom they all referred to as abbot, from the Syriac word abba, which means father. The cenobitical lifestyle quickly became more popular, almost completely replacing the solitary life. Very few men became solitaries without first being cenobites, usually to spend their final years contemplating God. As a result, the term monks has come to refer specifically to cenobites.

Ambitious at once of reducing to subjection their rebellious flesh, and of penetrating the secrets of the celestial light, these cenobites united the active with the contemplative life. The various and incessant labours which filled up their days are known. In the great frescoes of the cemetery of Pisa, they appear in their coarse black or brown dresses, a cowl upon their shoulders, occupied in digging up the soil, in cutting down trees, in fishing in the Nile, in milking the goats, in gathering the dates which served them for food, in plaiting the mats on which they [Pg 226] were to die. Others are absorbed in reading or meditating on the Holy Scriptures. Thus a Saint has said that the cells united in the desert were like a hive of bees. There each had in his hands the wax of labour, and in his mouth the honey of psalms and prayers. The days were divided between prayer and work. The work was divided between field labour and the exercise of various trades. There were among these monks entire colonies of weavers, of carpenters, of curriers, of tailors, and of fullers.[53] All the rules of the patriarchs of the desert made labour obligatory, and the example of their holy lives gave authority to the rule. When Macarius of Egypt came to visit the great Antony, they immediately set to work on their mats together, conferring thus upon things important to souls; and Antony was so edified by the zeal of the priest, that he kissed his hands, saying, "What virtues proceed from these hands!"

Ambitious in both subduing their rebellious nature and uncovering the mysteries of divine light, these monks combined an active and contemplative life. Their numerous and constant tasks throughout the day are well-documented. In the grand frescoes of the Pisa cemetery, they can be seen in their rough black or brown robes, hoods draped over their shoulders, engaged in activities like tilling the soil, chopping down trees, fishing in the Nile, milking goats, gathering dates for their food, and weaving the mats on which they would eventually die. Others are deeply focused on reading or meditating on the Holy Scriptures. As a saint once said, the cells gathered in the desert resembled a beehive, with each person holding the wax of labor in their hands and the honey of psalms and prayers on their lips. Their days were split between prayer and work, and the work itself was shared among farming and various trades. Among these monks were entire groups of weavers, carpenters, tanners, tailors, and fullers. All the rules from the desert patriarchs made labor mandatory, and their holy lives lent credibility to those rules. When Macarius of Egypt visited the great Antony, they immediately began working on their mats together, discussing matters essential to the soul. Antony was so inspired by the priest's enthusiasm that he kissed his hands, exclaiming, "What virtues come from these hands!"

Each monastery was then a great school of labour; it was also, at the same time, a great school of charity. The monks practised charity not only among themselves, and with regard to the poor inhabitants of the neighbouring countries, but especially in the case of travellers whom the necessities of commerce called to the banks of the Nile, and of the numerous pilgrims, whom their increasing fame drew to the desert. A more generous hospitality had never been exercised, nor had the universal mercy, introduced by Christianity into the world, blossomed anywhere to such an extent. A thousand incidents in their history reveal the most tender solicitude for the miseries of the poor. The Xenodochium—that is, the asylum for the poor and strangers—formed from that time a necessary appendix to every monastery. The most ingenious combinations, and the most gracious inspirations of charity are to be found in this history. A certain monastery served as an hospital for sick [Pg 227] children; another was transformed by its founder into an hospital for lepers and cripples. "Behold," said he, in shewing to the ladies of Alexandria the upper floor which was reserved for women, "behold my jacinths." Then conducting them to the floor below, were the men were placed, "See my emeralds."

Each monastery was a major center of hard work; it was also a hub of kindness. The monks showed compassion not only among themselves and towards the poor in nearby areas, but especially for travelers who came to the banks of the Nile for trade, and for the many pilgrims drawn to the desert by its growing reputation. Never before had such generous hospitality been offered, nor had the universal kindness introduced by Christianity flourished anywhere to such a degree. Countless stories from their past reveal a deep concern for the struggles of the poor. The Xenodochium—an asylum for the poor and strangers—became an essential part of every monastery. This history is filled with imaginative acts and beautiful inspirations of charity. One monastery functioned as a hospital for sick children; another was turned by its founder into a hospital for lepers and people with disabilities. "Look," he said while showing the women of Alexandria the upper floor designated for them, "look at my jacinths." Then leading them to the lower floor where the men were, he said, "See my emeralds."

They were hard only upon themselves. Under a burning sky, in a climate which has always seemed the cause, or the excuse of vice, in a country given up at all times to every kind of luxury and depravity, there were thousands of men who, during two centuries, interdicted themselves from the very shadow of a sensual gratification, and made of the most rigorous mortification a rule as universal as a second nature.

They were tough only on themselves. Under a blazing sky, in a climate that has always seemed to be the reason or the excuse for wrongdoing, in a country constantly indulged in all kinds of luxury and depravity, there were thousands of men who, for two centuries, denied themselves even the slightest hint of sensual pleasure, turning the strictest self-discipline into a rule that felt as natural as second nature.

It was their rule also to cultivate the mind by the study of sacred literature. The rule of S. Pachomius made the reading of divers portions of the Bible a strict obligation. All the monks, besides, were required to be able to read and write. To qualify themselves for reading the Scriptures was the first duty imposed upon the novices.

It was also their practice to nurture the mind through the study of sacred texts. The rule of St. Pachomius made reading various parts of the Bible a strict requirement. Additionally, all the monks had to be able to read and write. Preparing to read the Scriptures was the first responsibility assigned to the novices.

When, towards evening, at the hour of vespers, after a day of stifling heat, all work ceased, and from the midst of the sands, from the depths of caverns, from pagan temples cleared of their idols, and from all the vast tombs of a people dead, now occupied by these men dead to the world, the cry of a living people rose to heaven; when everywhere, and all at once, the air vibrated with hymns, prayers, and the pious and solemn, tender and joyous songs of these champions of the soul and conquerors of the desert, who celebrated, in the language of David, the praises of the living God, the thanksgivings of the freed soul, and the homage of vanquished passions,—then the traveller, the pilgrim, and especially the new convert stood still, lost in emotion, and transported with the sounds of that sublime concert, cried aloud, "Behold, this is Paradise."[54]

When evening came, at vespers, after a hot and stifling day, all work stopped. From the sands, the depths of caves, pagan temples cleared of their idols, and the vast tombs of a dead people, now occupied by those who were dead to the world, the cry of a living community rose to heaven. Everywhere, all at once, the air filled with hymns, prayers, and the pious, solemn, tender, and joyful songs of these spiritual champions and conquerors of the desert. They celebrated, in the words of David, the praises of the living God, the gratitude of the freed soul, and the tribute to subdued passions. In that moment, the traveler, the pilgrim, and especially the new convert paused, overcome with emotion, and captivated by the sounds of that sublime concert, exclaimed, "Look, this is Paradise."[54]

"Go," said the most eloquent doctor of the Church at that period; "go to the Thebaid; you will find there a solitude still more beautiful than Paradise, a thousand choirs of angels under human form, nations of martyrs, armies of virgins, the diabolical tyrant chained, and Christ triumphant and glorified."[55]

"Go," said the most articulate doctor of the Church at that time; "head to the Thebaid; you'll discover a solitude even more beautiful than Paradise, a thousand angelic choirs in human form, groups of martyrs, legions of virgins, the demonic tyrant bound, and Christ triumphant and glorified."[55]

S. ISIDORE, P. AND MONK IN ALEXANDRIA.

(a.d. 404.)

(A.D. 404.)

[Almost all the ancient Martyrologies commemorate S. Isidore on the same day as S. Macarius the Elder. Authorities for his life, same as for S. Macarius.]

Almost all the ancient Martyrologies honor St. Isidore on the same day as St. Macarius the Elder. The sources for his life are the same as those for St. Macarius.

S. Isidore, priest and monk, lived in Alexandria as hospitaller, that is, in charge of a hospital for the reception of strangers and the poor. He suffered many persecutions, first from Lucius, the Arian Bishop, who ill-treated the two Macarii, and afterwards from the orthodox bishop, Theophilus, who, moved by some jealousy, unjustly charged him with favouring the views of Origen. He took refuge at Constantinople with S. John Chrysostom, where he repudiated the heresy of Origen, declaring that he was falsely accused of holding it, and died in 404.

S. Isidore, a priest and monk, lived in Alexandria as a hospitaller, meaning he was responsible for a hospital that cared for strangers and the poor. He faced many persecutions, first from Lucius, the Arian Bishop, who mistreated the two Macarii, and later from the orthodox bishop, Theophilus, who, out of jealousy, unjustly accused him of supporting the ideas of Origen. He sought refuge in Constantinople with S. John Chrysostom, where he rejected the heresy of Origen, claiming he was falsely accused of believing it, and he died in 404.

S. ALEXANDER, OF THE SLEEPLESS ONES, MONK AT ALEXANDRIA.

(about a.d. 430.)

(around 430 AD)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The life of S. Alexander, written by a disciple of his, exists in Greek. From this the following epitome is taken.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The life of St. Alexander, written by one of his students, is available in Greek. The following summary is based on this.]

S. Alexander was of Asiatic origin, and was educated at Constantinople, where he entered the army, and was advanced to the office of eparchus, or proctor. Being a studious reader of the Old and New Testament, he often mused on the words of Christ, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." (Matt. xix. 21).

S. Alexander was of Asian descent and was educated in Constantinople, where he joined the army and rose to the position of eparchus, or proctor. A devoted reader of the Old and New Testament, he frequently pondered the words of Christ, "If you want to be perfect, go and sell what you have, and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." (Matt. xix. 21).

Then, moved by these words, he resolved to obey the command, and he sold his possessions and made distribution unto those that had need; and hastening away, into the solitudes of Syria, he became a monk for seven years.

Then, touched by these words, he decided to follow the command, so he sold his belongings and gave to those in need; and quickly leaving for the deserts of Syria, he became a monk for seven years.

After that, inflamed with zeal against idolatry, he went into the nearest city, which was Edessa, on a solemn festival of the heathen gods, and set fire to the temple. He was at once seized and brought before the governor, Rabbulus, who remanded him till the rage of the populace should be abated, and he could be judged with calmness and equity.

After that, filled with passion against idol worship, he went to the closest city, Edessa, during a major festival for the pagan gods, and set the temple on fire. He was immediately captured and taken before the governor, Rabbulus, who put him in custody until the anger of the crowd had calmed down, so he could be judged fairly and calmly.

Rabbulus often sent for Alexander out of prison, and heard him gladly. And Alexander unfolded to him the doctrine of Christ and the great power of God. And as he expounded to him the Scriptures, he related the wondrous works of Elijah, how that he had prayed, and God had withheld the rain three years, and at his prayer had again brought a cloud and abundance of rain upon the earth, and also how he had cried, and God had sent fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice. Then, hearing this, Rabbulus said, "Nay! thou speakest of marvels. If the God of whom thou tellest wrought those wonders then, He can work them now. Cry unto Him to send fire on earth, that I may see and believe."

Rabbulus frequently called for Alexander from prison and listened to him eagerly. Alexander explained to him the teachings of Christ and the incredible power of God. As he shared the Scriptures with him, he recounted the amazing deeds of Elijah, how he had prayed and God had held back the rain for three years, and how at his prayer, God had sent a cloud and a downpour of rain upon the earth. He also spoke about how Elijah had cried out, and God had sent fire from heaven to consume his sacrifice. After hearing this, Rabbulus exclaimed, "No! You're talking about miracles. If the God you're describing did those wonders back then, He can do them now. Pray to Him to send fire on earth so I can see and believe."

Instantly, filled with confidence, the holy man, Alexander, turned to the East and spread forth his hands, and prayed; then there fell fire from heaven, and consumed the mats that were laid upon the ground, but hurt nothing else. And [Pg 230] the Governor bowed his head, and said, "The Lord He is God, the Lord He is God!" Then he was baptized,[56] he and all his house, and he suffered Alexander to go forth to the people, and in their audience plead for the cause of Christ against their false gods. So they hastened and destroyed their images, and multitudes were added to the Church. And after that Alexander went away into the desert, where he heard there was a band of robbers, desiring to save their souls, as Jesus on the Cross had saved the thief. So the robbers took him, and he exhorted them, and spake the Word to them, and they believed, they and their chief, so that he tarried some while with them—they were thirty in number—and he baptized them. But the robber-chief, as he was being baptized, prayed in secret. Then said Alexander, "I saw thy lips move. What was thy petition?" And he answered, "I have been a great sinner, and I fear my old habits of evil resuming the mastery. I prayed God, if it were His will, to let His servant depart in peace, now that mine eyes have seen salvation." The prayer was heard, and the captain died within eight days, whilst still in the white dress he wore for his baptism. But Alexander remained with the robbers, and turned their den into a monastery, and converted the robbers into monks, and they served God in fasting and prayer. Now when he saw that they were established firmly in the course of penitence, he appointed one of them to be their abbot, and he went his way into Mesopotamia, and founded a monastery on the Euphrates, where he dwelt twenty years, and had very many monks under him. And after that he visited Antioch, Palmyra, and other cities, taking with him one hundred and fifty of his monks, that they might preach the Gospel to those who were yet in heathen darkness. The people of Palmyra shut their gates against him, saying that such a host of [Pg 231] monks would devour all the produce in the market. Then Alexander and his brethren halted outside the city for three days, and the heathen people around brought them food, which they accepted with thanks. After that Alexander took the Book of the Gospels, and stood in the way, and cried: "Glory be to God in the Highest, and on earth peace, goodwill towards men." This was the signal of departure, so the whole moving monastery deserted their camp and went towards Antioch, where the brother of Alexander, Peter by name, was superior of a large monastery. Alexander and one companion went to the gate and knocked. Then the porter looked forth, and said, "Wait without, till I go to the abbot, and ask permission for you to enter and refresh yourselves." But Alexander thrust in on the heels of the porter, and went after him to the abbot's chamber, and there Peter knew him, and cast himself on his neck. But Alexander said, "Our father Abraham went forth himself to receive strangers, and invited them in, and our Lord Jesus Christ exhorted his followers to show glad hospitality, but thou lettest a wayfaring man stand without, and makest a favour of admitting him!" Then he turned, and went away in a rage, and would not eat in the monastery of his brother. And when they would enter into Antioch, the bishop, Theodotus, being prejudiced against Alexander, ordered that he and his monks should be refused admission. So they sat down all day in the heat outside, but rising up to sing their psalms at midnight, they all went forward chanting, and no man stayed them, through the streets of Antioch, and they found an old bath-house, and lodged there. Then the Bishop feared to disturb them, for all the people magnified them. There they stayed some time and erected a large hospital, where they cherished the sick and the poor.

Instantly filled with confidence, the holy man, Alexander, turned to the East, raised his hands, and prayed; then fire fell from heaven and consumed the mats on the ground but hurt nothing else. And [Pg 230] the Governor bowed his head and said, "The Lord is God, the Lord is God!" Then he was baptized, [56] he and his entire household, and he allowed Alexander to go out to the people and plead for the cause of Christ against their false gods. So they hurried and destroyed their images, and many were added to the Church. After that, Alexander went into the desert, where he heard about a group of robbers, wanting to save their souls, just as Jesus saved the thief on the Cross. The robbers captured him, and he encouraged them and spoke the Word to them, and they believed, along with their leader, so he stayed with them for a while—they were thirty in total—and baptized them. But as the robber-chief was being baptized, he prayed quietly. Alexander said, "I saw your lips moving. What was your request?" He replied, "I have been a great sinner, and I fear my old bad habits returning. I prayed to God, if it is His will, to let His servant depart in peace now that my eyes have seen salvation." The prayer was answered, and the captain died within eight days, still in the white robe he wore for his baptism. But Alexander stayed with the robbers, turning their hideout into a monastery and converting the robbers into monks, serving God through fasting and prayer. When he saw that they were firmly established in their repentance, he appointed one of them as their abbot and went into Mesopotamia, where he founded a monastery on the Euphrates, living there for twenty years with many monks under him. After that, he visited Antioch, Palmyra, and other cities, taking along one hundred and fifty of his monks to preach the Gospel to those who were still in darkness. The people of Palmyra shut their gates against him, saying that such a large group of monks would consume all the market's produce. Then Alexander and his brethren camped outside the city for three days, and the surrounding heathens brought them food, which they gratefully accepted. After that, Alexander took the Book of the Gospels, stood in the way, and proclaimed: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men." This was the signal to depart, and the entire moving monastery left their camp and headed toward Antioch, where Alexander's brother, named Peter, was the head of a large monastery. Alexander and one companion went to the gate and knocked. The porter looked out and said, "Wait outside while I go to the abbot and ask for permission for you to enter and refresh yourselves." But Alexander pushed in after the porter and followed him to the abbot's chamber, where Peter recognized him and embraced him. But Alexander said, "Our father Abraham welcomed strangers and invited them in, and our Lord Jesus Christ urged his followers to show generous hospitality, yet you let a traveler stand outside and treat him as a favor to admit him!" Then he turned and left in anger, refusing to eat in his brother's monastery. And when they tried to enter Antioch, the bishop, Theodotus, who was biased against Alexander, ordered that he and his monks should be denied admission. So they sat all day in the heat outside, but at midnight, as they rose to sing their psalms, they all moved forward chanting, and no one stopped them in the streets of Antioch until they found an old bathhouse to stay in. The bishop dared not disturb them, for all the people praised them. They stayed there for some time and built a large hospital where they cared for the sick and the poor.

But one Malchus, a sub-deacon, who was greatly offended [Pg 232] with the monks, went to the Bishop, and urged that they should be expelled. And when he had been given license, he went with all the church sextons and drove the monks from their lodgings, and he boxed Alexander on the ear, saying, "Go forth, thou rascal!" But Alexander said nothing, save that he quoted the words of S. John, "The servant's name was Malchus." (xviii. 10.) Then the Governor of the city, finding that the people would take part with the monks, and that a tumult would be made, came with force, and drave the brethren without the walls. So Alexander and his monks swarmed off to the Crithenian monastery, which he had founded, and there he saw that the discipline was admirable.

But one Malchus, a sub-deacon, who was very upset with the monks, went to the Bishop and insisted that they should be expelled. Once he received permission, he gathered all the church sextons and kicked the monks out of their lodgings. He slapped Alexander on the ear and said, "Get out of here, you rascal!" But Alexander didn’t respond, except to quote from S. John, "The servant's name was Malchus." (xviii. 10.) Then the city's Governor, realizing that the people would side with the monks and that a riot would break out, came with force and drove the brethren outside the walls. So Alexander and his monks hurried to the Crithenian monastery he had founded, where he found that the discipline was excellent.

Thence he went to Constantinople, taking with him from Crithene twenty-four monks, and in all he was now followed by three hundred, and they were Greeks, and Romans, and Syrians, and he settled them at Gomon, on the Bosphorus, near Constantinople, and divided them into six choirs, who should alternately sing the divine office, so that ceaselessly, night and day, the praises of Christ might ascend. Thence his order was called the Acœmeti, or the Sleepless Ones, for, in it, some were ever watching for the coming of the Bridegroom. However, even in Constantinople, he was not left in peace, but the civil powers interfered and broke up the monastery, and the monks were imprisoned and beaten, and ill-treated in divers ways, so that, for a while, the incessant song was interrupted. But when the persecution was over, the monks flowed together again, and the sleepless vigil recommenced.

Then he went to Constantinople, bringing with him twenty-four monks from Crithene, and in total he was now followed by three hundred, consisting of Greeks, Romans, and Syrians. He settled them at Gomon, on the Bosphorus, near Constantinople, and organized them into six choirs, who would take turns singing the divine office, ensuring that the praises of Christ rose continuously, day and night. Because of this, his order was named the Acœmeti, or the Sleepless Ones, since some members were always watching for the coming of the Bridegroom. However, even in Constantinople, he was not left in peace; the civil authorities intervened, disrupting the monastery, and the monks were imprisoned, beaten, and mistreated in various ways, causing the constant song to be interrupted for a while. But when the persecution ended, the monks gathered together again, and the sleepless vigil resumed.

S. Alexander died and was buried at Gomon.

S. Alexander passed away and was buried at Gomon.

S. JOHN THE CALYBITE, H.

(about 450.)

(about 450.)

[Commemorated on the same day by Greeks and Latins. Some old Western Martyrologies honoured him on Feb. 27th. Authority, his life by Simeon Logotheta.[57]]

[Celebrated on the same day by both Greeks and Latins. Some ancient Western Martyrologies recognized him on February 27th. The information comes from his life written by Simeon Logotheta.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

S. John the Calybite is the Eastern counterpart of the Western S. Alexis. At an early age he met a monk of the Sleepless Ones, founded by S. Alexander, as mentioned in the immediately preceding life; and he was so struck with what he heard of the religious life, that he desired to enter it. Returning home, he asked his parents, who were wealthy, to make him a present of the Holy Gospels. They, surprised that the boy desired a book, instead of some article of dress or of play, purchased him a handsomely illuminated and illustrated book of the Gospels. The boy read, "He that loveth father and mother more than me, is not worthy of me." Then he ran away from home, and made his way to Gomon, where he entered the Sleepless order. The archimandrite, or abbot, thinking him too young, objected to receive him, but when the boy persisted, he made him undergo the discipline of the monks. He remained there, however, six years, and then a longing came over him to see his father and mother again; so he told the superior, who said, "Did I not say to thee, thou art too young. Go in peace to thy home." So John left the monastery. But returning home, he did not make himself known to his parents, but, changing clothes with a beggar, he crouched at the gate of his father's house and begged. Then his father gave him daily food from his kitchen; but after a while his mother, disliking the presence of a squalid beggar at the door, bade the servants remove him to a little cot, and thence he took his name of Calybite, or Cotter. Three years after, as he was dying, he sent for his mother, and revealed himself to her.

S. John the Calybite is the Eastern equivalent of the Western S. Alexis. At a young age, he met a monk from the Sleepless Ones, founded by S. Alexander, as mentioned in the previous life story; and he was so moved by what he heard about the religious life that he wanted to join it. When he got home, he asked his wealthy parents for a gift of the Holy Gospels. They were surprised that their son wanted a book instead of new clothes or toys, so they bought him a beautifully illuminated and illustrated copy of the Gospels. The boy read, "Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me." He then ran away from home and made his way to Gomon, where he joined the Sleepless order. The archimandrite, or abbot, thought he was too young to be accepted, but when the boy insisted, he made him undergo the monks' discipline. He stayed there for six years, but eventually, he felt a strong desire to see his parents again; so he informed the superior, who said, "Did I not tell you that you are too young? Go home in peace." So John left the monastery. However, when he returned home, he didn’t reveal his identity to his parents. Instead, he swapped clothes with a beggar and sat at the gate of his father's house, begging. His father provided him with food from the kitchen daily, but after some time, his mother, unhappy with the filthy beggar at the door, ordered the servants to move him to a small shelter, which is how he got the name Calybite, or Cotter. Three years later, as he was dying, he called for his mother and revealed his identity to her.

He was buried beneath the hut, and his parents built a church over his tomb.

He was buried under the cabin, and his parents constructed a church over his grave.

Relics, in the church dedicated to him at Rome; his head at Besançon, in the church of S. Stephen.

Relics in the church dedicated to him in Rome; his head in Besançon, in the church of St. Stephen.

S. MAURUS, AB. OF GLANFEUIL.

(a.d. 584.)

(A.D. 584.)

[The life of S. Maurus, professing to be by S. Faustus, is not of the date it pretends to. It was written by Odo of Glanfeuil (D. 868); it is, however, probable that he used a previous composition of S. Faustus, monk of Cassino (D. 620), amplifying and altering in style. Other authorities are S. Gregory the Great, Dialog. II., and a metrical life, falsely attributed to Paulus Diaconus.]

The life of S. Maurus, said to be written by S. Faustus, doesn’t actually come from the time it claims to. It was really written by Odo of Glanfeuil (D. 868); however, it’s probable that he used an earlier work by S. Faustus, a monk of Cassino (D. 620), expanding and altering its style. Other sources include S. Gregory the Great, Dialog. II., and a poetic life that is wrongly attributed to Paulus Diaconus.

A nobleman, named Eguitius, gave his little son Maurus, aged twelve, to the holy patriarch Benedict, to be by him educated. The youth surpassed all his fellow monks in the discharge of his monastic duties, and when he was grown up, S. Benedict made him his coadjutor in the government of Subiaco. Placidus, a fellow-monk, going one day to fetch water, fell into the lake, and was carried about a bow-shot from the bank. S. Benedict seeing this from his cell, sent Maurus to run and draw him out. Maurus obeyed, walked upon the water, without perceiving it, and pulled out Placidus by the hair, without himself sinking.

A nobleman named Eguitius entrusted his young son Maurus, who was twelve, to the holy patriarch Benedict for his education. The boy excelled in all his monastic duties compared to his fellow monks, and as he grew up, St. Benedict appointed him as a coadjutor in overseeing Subiaco. One day, Placidus, another monk, went to fetch water and fell into the lake, being swept away about a bow-shot from the shore. St. Benedict, witnessing this from his cell, sent Maurus to run and rescue him. Maurus obeyed, walking on the water without realizing it, and pulled Placidus out by his hair, all without sinking himself.

The fame of Benedict and his work had not been slow to cross the frontiers of Italy; it resounded especially in Gaul. [Pg 235] A year before the death of the patriarch, two envoys arrived at Monte Cassino, from Innocent, Bishop of Mans, who, not content with forty monasteries which had arisen during his episcopate in the country over which he ruled, still desired to see his diocese enriched by a colony formed by the disciples of the new head and law-giver of the cenobites in Italy. Benedict confided this mission to the dearest and most fervent of his disciples, the young deacon Maurus. He gave him four companions, one of whom, Faustus, is the supposed author of the history of the mission; and bestowed on him a copy of the rule, written with his own hand, together with the weights for the bread, and the measure for the wine, which should be allotted to each monk every day, to serve as unchanging types of that abstinence which was to be one of the strongest points of the new institution.

The reputation of Benedict and his work quickly spread beyond Italy, particularly in Gaul. [Pg 235] A year before the patriarch's death, two envoys arrived at Monte Cassino from Innocent, Bishop of Mans. Though he was already responsible for forty monasteries established during his time as bishop, he still wanted to enrich his diocese with a new community formed by the followers of the new leader and lawgiver of the cenobites in Italy. Benedict entrusted this mission to his most cherished and passionate disciple, the young deacon Maurus. He provided him with four companions, one of whom, Faustus, is thought to be the author of the mission's history. Benedict also gave Maurus a copy of the rule, written by his own hand, along with the weights for the bread and the measure for the wine that each monk would receive daily, serving as enduring examples of the abstinence that would be a key aspect of the new institution.

At the head of this handful of missionaries, who went to sow afar the seed destined to produce so great a harvest, Maurus came down from Monte Cassino, crossed Italy and the Alps, paused beneath the precipices which overhang the monastery of Agaunum now S. Maurice in the Valais, beside the foaming Rhone, which the Burgundian king, Sigismund, had just raised over the relics of the Theban Legion; then went into the Jura to visit the colonies of Condate. Arrived upon the banks of the Loire, and repulsed by the successor of the Bishop who had called him, he stopped in Anjou, which was then governed by a viscount called Florus, in the name of Theodebert, King of Austrasia. This viscount offered one of his estates to the disciple of Benedict, that he might establish his colony there, besides giving one of his sons to become a monk, and announcing his own intention of consecrating himself to God. On this estate, bathed by the waters of the Loire, Maurus founded the monastery of Glanfeuil, which afterwards [Pg 236] took his own name. The site of this monastery, now lost among the vineyards of Anjou, merits the grateful glance of every traveller who is not insensible to the advantages which flowed from that first Benedictine colony over the whole of France.

At the head of this small group of missionaries, who set out to spread the seeds that would lead to a great harvest, Maurus came down from Monte Cassino, crossed Italy and the Alps, paused beneath the cliffs overlooking the monastery of Agaunum, now known as S. Maurice in the Valais, next to the rushing Rhone River. The Burgundian king, Sigismund, had just honored the relics of the Theban Legion there. He then traveled into the Jura to visit the settlements of Condate. Arriving on the banks of the Loire and being turned away by the successor of the Bishop who had invited him, he stayed in Anjou, which was then ruled by a viscount named Florus, on behalf of Theodebert, King of Austrasia. This viscount offered one of his estates to the disciple of Benedict so he could establish his colony there, as well as giving one of his sons to become a monk and expressing his own intention to dedicate himself to God. On this estate, bathed by the waters of the Loire, Maurus founded the monastery of Glanfeuil, which later took his name. The location of this monastery, now hidden among the vineyards of Anjou, deserves the appreciative attention of every traveler who understands the benefits that arose from that first Benedictine colony throughout France.

The beloved son of S. Benedict spent forty years at the head of his French colony; he saw as many as a hundred and forty monks officiate there; and when he died, after having lived apart for two years in an isolated cell, to prepare himself in silence for appearing before God, he had dropped into the soil of Gaul, a germ which could neither perish nor be exhausted.

The cherished son of S. Benedict led his French community for forty years; he witnessed as many as one hundred and forty monks serve there; and when he died, after living alone for two years in a secluded cell to quietly prepare to meet God, he had planted a seed in the soil of Gaul that could neither die nor diminish.

In art, S. Maurus is represented holding the weights and measures given him by S. Benedict.

In art, S. Maurus is shown holding the weights and measures given to him by S. Benedict.

S. CEOLWULF, K., MONK.

(a.d. 767.)

(A.D. 767.)

[Old English Martyrologies on March 14th; later ones on this day, on which he is commemorated in the Roman Calendar. Authorities: Bede, Florence of Worcester, William of Malmesbury, Henry Huntingdon, Simeon of Durham, &c.]

[Old English Martyrologies from March 14th; later ones on this date, when he is remembered in the Roman Calendar. Sources: Bede, Florence of Worcester, William of Malmesbury, Henry Huntingdon, Simeon of Durham, etc.]

Bede dedicated his "History of the English" to Ceolwulf, King of Northumbria, whose tender solicitude for monastic interests made the monk of Jarrow look to him as a patron. Ceolwulf was of the race of Ida the Burner; after two obscure reigns, Ceolwulf was called to the throne, and vainly attempted to struggle against the disorder and decay of his country. He was vanquished and made captive by enemies whose names are not recorded, and was shut up in a convent. He escaped, however, regained the crown, and reigned for some time in a manner which gained the applause of Bede. But after a reign of eight [Pg 237] years, a regret, or an unconquerable desire for that monastic life which had been formerly forced upon him against his will, seized him. He made the best provisions possible for the security of his country, and for a good understanding between the spiritual and temporal authorities, nominating as his successor a worthy prince of his race. Then, giving up the cares of power, and showing himself truly the master of the wealth he resigned, he cut his long beard, had his head shaved in the form of a crown, and retired to bury himself anew in the holy island of Lindisfarne, in the monastery beaten by the winds and waves of the northern sea. There he passed the last thirty years of his life in study and happiness. He had, while king, enriched this monastery with many great gifts, and obtained permission for the use of wine and beer for the monks, who, up to that time, according to the rigid rule of ancient Keltic discipline, had been allowed no beverage but water and milk.

Bede dedicated his "History of the English" to Ceolwulf, King of Northumbria, whose caring attention to monastic concerns made the monk from Jarrow see him as a supporter. Ceolwulf belonged to the line of Ida the Burner; after two little-known reigns, he ascended to the throne and tried, in vain, to fight against the chaos and decline of his kingdom. He was defeated and captured by enemies whose names aren't recorded and was locked up in a convent. However, he escaped, regained the crown, and ruled for a time in a way that earned Bede's admiration. But after a reign of eight [Pg 237] years, he was overcome by regret or an irresistible longing for the monastic life that had once been forced upon him. He made the best arrangements he could for the safety of his kingdom and for a good relationship between the spiritual and secular authorities, naming a worthy prince from his lineage as his successor. Then, letting go of the burdens of power and demonstrating he was truly in control of the wealth he gave up, he cut his long beard, had his head shaved in the shape of a crown, and withdrew to immerse himself once again in the holy island of Lindisfarne, at the monastery battered by the winds and waves of the northern sea. There, he spent the last thirty years of his life in study and contentment. While he was king, he had enriched this monastery with many significant gifts and secured permission for the monks to use wine and beer, which, until then, according to the strict rules of ancient Celtic discipline, they were allowed to have no beverages but water and milk.

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FOOTNOTES:

[52] For authorities for these statements, see Montalembert's Monks of the West, I. p. 315.

[52] For sources for these statements, check Montalembert's Monks of the West, I. p. 315.

[53] S. Jerome, Prœf. in Reg. S. Pachomii, § 6.

[53] S. Jerome, Preface in the Rule of St. Pachomius, § 6.

[54] Pallad. Hist. Lausiaca, c. 7.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Pallad. Hist. Lausiaca, ch. 7.

[55] S. John Chrysostom, in Matt., hom. VIII. The above account of the life of the monks in Egypt is by the eloquent pen of the Count de Montalembert.

[55] S. John Chrysostom, in Matt., hom. VIII. The description of the life of the monks in Egypt is written by the skilled author Count de Montalembert.

[56] Rabbulus was afterwards consecrated Bishop of Edessa.

[56] Later on, Rabbulus was appointed as the Bishop of Edessa.

[57] Bollandus gives two lives; one is authentic, the other is not. The first states that he lived at Constantinople, from which he escaped to Gomon, threescore furlongs from the city, by water. The second, mistaking new Rome for old Rome, makes him voyage from Italy to Bithynia.

[57] Bollandus presents two accounts of his life; one is true, and the other is not. The first account says he lived in Constantinople and managed to escape to Gomon, which is about three score furlongs from the city, by boat. The second account confuses new Rome with old Rome and claims he sailed from Italy to Bithynia.


January 16.

S. Priscilla, Matron, at Rome, 1st cent.
S. Marcellus, Pope, M., at Rome, circ. a.d. 309.
S. Melas, B. C., at Rhinoclusa, 4th cent.
S. Honoratus, B. C., of Arles, circ. a.d. 430
S. James, B. C., of the Tarantaise, 5th cent.
S. Valerius, B. C., of Sorrente, circ. a.d. 600.
S. Tatian, B. C., at Underzo, in Italy, 7th cent.
S. Fursey, Ab., in France, circ. a.d. 653.
S. Tossa, B. C., of Augsburg, a.d. 661.
S. Henry, H., in Northumberland, a.d. 1127.
SS. Franciscan Martyrs, in Mauritania, a.d. 1220.

St. Priscilla, Matron, in Rome, 1st century.
St. Marcellus, Pope, martyr, in Rome, around A.D. 309.
St. Melas, blessed confessor, in Rhinoclusa, 4th century.
St. Honoratus, blessed confessor, from Arles, around A.D. 430
St. James, blessed confessor, from the Tarantaise, 5th century.
St. Valerius, blessed confessor, from Sorrento, around A.D. 600.
St. Tatian, blessed confessor, in Underzo, Italy, 7th century.
St. Fursey, Abbot, in France, around A.D. 653.
St. Tossa, blessed confessor, from Augsburg, A.D. 661.
St. Henry, hermit, in Northumberland, A.D. 1127.
Franciscan Martyrs, in Mauritania, A.D. 1220.

S. PRISCILLA, MATRON, AT ROME.

(1st cent.)

(1st century)

[Roman Martyrology. This Priscilla is not to be confounded with the wife of Aquila (Acts xviii. 26.) She was the mother of S. Pudens (2 Tim. iv. 21), who was the father of SS. Praxedes and Pudentiana, the guests and disciples of S. Peter. Nothing more is known of her.]

[Roman Martyrology. This Priscilla shouldn't be confused with the wife of Aquila (Acts xviii. 26). She was the mother of S. Pudens (2 Tim. iv. 21), who was the father of SS. Praxedes and Pudentiana, the guests and disciples of S. Peter. There is no further information known about her.]

S. MARCELLUS, POPE, M.

(about a.d. 309.)

(circa A.D. 309.)

[The Greeks have confounded Marcellus with his predecessor, Marcellinus, who is commemorated on April 26th. Roman Martyrology, that of Bede, Ado, Notker, &c. The Acts are not to be trusted.]

The Greeks have confused Marcellus with his predecessor, Marcellinus, who is celebrated on April 26th. This is noted in the Roman Martyrology, as well as by Bede, Ado, Notker, and others. The accounts are not reliable.

S.

aint Marcellus succeeded Pope Marcellinus, in 308, after the see had been vacant for three years and a half. An epitaph written on him by Pope Damasus, says that by enforcing the penitential canons, he drew on himself the hostility of lukewarm Christians. For his severity to an apostate he [Pg 239] was exiled by the tyrant Maxentius.

Saint Marcellus became Pope Marcellinus' successor in 308, after the position had been empty for three and a half years. An epitaph written about him by Pope Damasus states that by enforcing the penitential canons, he attracted hostility from indifferent Christians. For his harshness toward an apostate, he was exiled by the tyrant Maxentius.

Relics, in the church of S. Marcellus at Rome; also at Mons and Namur, in Belgium.

Relics in the church of S. Marcellus in Rome; also in Mons and Namur, Belgium.

S. MELAS, B. C. OF RHINOCLUSA.

(4th cent.)

(4th cent.)

[Roman and German Martyrologies. Authority for his life, Sozomen.]

[Roman and German Martyrologies. Source for his life, Sozomen.]

Rhinoclusa, or Rinocorurus, was near the river of Egypt, dividing Egypt from Palestine; of this city and monastic settlement S. Melas was Bishop. Sozomen, in his Ecclesiastical History, gives the following account of him (lib. vi. c. 31):—

Rhinoclusa, or Rinocorurus, was located near the river in Egypt, separating Egypt from Palestine. In this city and monastic community, S. Melas served as Bishop. Sozomen, in his Ecclesiastical History, provides the following account of him (lib. vi. c. 31):—

"Rinocorurus was celebrated at this period, on account of the holy men who were born and flourished there. I have heard that the most eminent among them were Melas, the Bishop of the country; Denis and Solon, the brothers and successors of Melas. When the decree went forth for the ejection of all bishops opposed to Arianism, the officers appointed to execute the mandate found Melas engaged in trimming the lights of the church, and clad in an old cloak soiled with oil, fastened by a girdle. When they asked him for the Bishop, he replied that he was within, and that he would conduct them to him. As they were fatigued with their journey, he led them to the episcopal dwelling, made them sit down at his table, and placed before them such things as he had. After the repast, he supplied them with water to wash their hands, and then told them who he was. Amazed at his conduct, they confessed the mission on which they had arrived; but, from respect to him, gave him full liberty to go wherever he would. He, however, replied that he would not shrink from the sufferings to which the [Pg 240] other bishops, who maintained the same sentiments as himself, were exposed, and that he was ready to go into exile. He had been accustomed, from his youth up, to practise all the virtues of asceticism. The Church of Rinocorurus, having been thus, from the beginning, under the guidance of such exemplary bishops, never afterwards swerved from their doctrine. The clergy of this Church dwell in one house, sit at the same table, and have all things in common."

"Rinocorurus was well-known during this time because of the holy men who were born and thrived there. I've heard that the most notable among them were Melas, the Bishop of the area; Denis and Solon, the brothers and successors of Melas. When the order was given to remove all bishops who opposed Arianism, the officials assigned to carry out the order found Melas busy trimming the church candles, dressed in an old cloak stained with oil and held up by a belt. When they asked about the Bishop, he said he was inside and that he would take them to him. Since they were tired from their journey, he led them to the bishop's residence, had them sit at his table, and served them what he had. After the meal, he provided them with water to wash their hands, then revealed who he was. Surprised by his behavior, they admitted the purpose of their visit; however, out of respect for him, they allowed him the freedom to go wherever he wished. He replied that he wouldn’t shy away from the hardships that other bishops who shared his beliefs faced and that he was ready for exile. He had been practicing all the virtues of asceticism since his youth. The Church of Rinocorurus, having been guided by such exemplary bishops from its beginning, never deviated from their teachings. The clergy of this Church live together in one house, eat at the same table, and share everything."

S. HONORATUS, B. OF ARLES.

(about a.d. 430.)

(around A.D. 430.)

[Honoratus, in French Honoré, is commemorated in almost all the Western Kalendars. His life by his kinsman and successor, S. Hilary. Another life of him is apocryphal. "A tissue," says Bollandus, "of fables and crazes;" "which," says Baronius, "cannot be read without nausea, except by those with iron stomachs, and wits covered with the rust of ignorance." This life, therefore, must be completely put aside, as worthless, and we must draw all our information from that by S. Hilary, Bishop of Arles.]

Honoratus, referred to in French as Honoré, is recognized in almost all Western calendars. His life story was written by his relative and successor, St. Hilary. There’s an alternative version that is considered apocryphal. "A collection," states Bollandus, "of myths and madness;" "which," says Baronius, "can only be read without disgust by those with strong stomachs and minds dulled by ignorance." Therefore, this apocryphal account should be completely ignored as worthless, and we should depend solely on the biography by St. Hilary, Bishop of Arles.

The sailor who proceeds from the roadstead of Toulon towards Italy or the East, passes among two or three islands, rocky and dry, surmounted here and there by a slender cluster of pines. He looks at them with indifference, and avoids them. However, one of these islands has been, for the soul and for the mind, a centre purer and more fertile than any famous isle of the Greek sea. It is Lerins, formerly occupied by a city, which was already ruined in the time of Pliny, and where, at the commencement of the fifth century, nothing more was to be seen than a desert coast, rendered unapproachable by the number of serpents which swarmed there.

The sailor leaving the harbor of Toulon for Italy or the East passes by two or three rocky, barren islands, which have sparse clusters of pines here and there. He glances at them without much interest and steers clear of them. Still, one of these islands has been, for both the soul and the mind, a place more pure and fruitful than any of the famous isles of the Greek sea. It is Lerins, which was once home to a city that was already in ruins during Pliny's time, and by the beginning of the fifth century, all that could be seen was a deserted coastline, made inaccessible by the countless snakes that were everywhere.

S. HONORÉ. After Cahier. Jan. 16.

In 410 a man landed and remained there; he was called Honoratus. Descended from a consular race, educated and eloquent, but devoted from his youth to great piety; he desired to be made a monk. His father charged his eldest brother, a gay and impetuous young man, to turn him from the ascetic life; but, on the contrary, it was he who gained his brother. After many difficulties, he at last found repose at Lerins; the serpents yielded the place to him; a multitude of disciples gathered round him. A community of austere monks and indefatigable labourers was formed there. The face of the isle was changed, the desert became a paradise; a country bordered with deep woods, watered by streams, rich with verdure, enamelled with flowers, revealed the fertilizing presence of a new race. Honoratus, whose fine face was radiant with a sweet and attractive majesty,[58] opened the arms of his love to the sons of all countries who desired to love Christ. A multitude of disciples of all nations joined him.

In 410, a man arrived and settled there; he was named Honoratus. Coming from a noble family, well-educated and articulate, but devoted to deep spirituality since his youth, he wished to become a monk. His father tasked his older brother, a lively and impulsive young man, with dissuading him from an ascetic lifestyle; however, it was the brother who ended up following Honoratus. After facing many challenges, he finally found peace at Lerins; the serpents retreated from the area; and a large group of followers gathered around him. A community of strict monks and tireless workers was established there. The landscape transformed, turning the wilderness into a paradise; a land surrounded by dense forests, nourished by streams, full of greenery, and adorned with flowers, revealed the life-giving presence of a new community. Honoratus, whose beautiful face radiated a sweet and inviting majesty, opened his arms to the children of all nations who wanted to embrace Christ. Many followers from various nations joined him.

There is, perhaps, nothing more touching in monastic annals than the picture traced by S. Hilary, one of the most illustrious sons of Lerins, of the paternal tenderness of Honoratus for the numerous family of monks whom he had collected round him. He could reach the depths of their souls to discover all their griefs. He neglected no effort to banish every sadness, every painful recollection of the world. He watched their sleep, their health, their food, their labours, that each might serve God according to the measure of his strength. Thus he inspired them with a love more than filial. "In him," they said, "we find not only a father, but an entire family, a country, the whole world." When he wrote to any of those who were absent, they said, on receiving his letter, written according to the usage of the time, upon tablets of wax, "It is honey which he has poured back into that wax, honey drawn from the inexhaustible sweetness of his heart."

There’s probably nothing more heartwarming in monastic history than the portrait painted by S. Hilary, one of the most distinguished figures from Lerins, of Honoratus’s fatherly care for the large group of monks he brought together. He had a deep understanding of their souls and recognized all their sorrows. He went to great lengths to erase every sadness and painful memory of the outside world. He monitored their sleep, health, food, and work so that each one could serve God according to his abilities. This way, he inspired them with a love that surpassed even that of a son. “In him,” they said, “we find not just a father, but a whole family, a homeland, the entire world.” When he wrote to anyone who was away, they would say upon receiving his letter, traditionally written on wax tablets, “It’s honey he’s poured back into that wax, honey drawn from the endless sweetness of his heart.”

In that island paradise, and under the care of such a shepherd, the perfume of life breathed everywhere. These monks, who had sought happiness by renouncing secular life, felt and proclaimed that they had found it; to see their serene and modest joy, their union, their gentleness, and their firm hope, one would have believed one's self, says S. Eucher, in the presence of a battalion of angels at rest.[59] How S. Honoratus converted S. Hilary by his prayers, as told by S. Hilary himself, shall be related when we speak of that Saint. Honoratus was, by compulsion, made to assume the direction of the see of Arles, and was consecrated Bishop in 426. He died in the arms of S. Hilary, who succeeded him in 429.

In that island paradise, and under the care of such a shepherd, the scent of life filled the air. These monks, who had searched for happiness by leaving behind worldly life, genuinely felt and declared they had found it; to witness their calm and modest joy, their unity, their kindness, and their strong hope, one would have thought, as S. Eucher said, they were surrounded by a squad of angels at peace.[59] The story of how S. Honoratus converted S. Hilary through his prayers, as told by S. Hilary himself, will be shared when we discuss that Saint. Honoratus was, against his will, made to take charge of the see of Arles, and he was consecrated Bishop in 426. He died in the arms of S. Hilary, who took over in 429.

Relics, at S. Honoré, formerly Lerins.

Relics at S. Honoré, previously Lerins.

In art, he appears expelling serpents from the isle with his staff.

In art, he is shown driving serpents off the island with his staff.

S. JAMES, B. OF THE TARANTAISE.

(5th cent.)

(5th century)

[Authority for his life, a fragmentary life of uncertain date, published by Bollandus.]

[Authority for his life, a partial account of uncertain date, published by Bollandus.]

James, of Asiatic origin, and a soldier, was one of the first disciples of S. Honoratus in his monastic settlement at Lerins. When S. Honoratus was appointed Archbishop of Arles, he called James to be the first Bishop of the Tarantaise, the valleys of the Isère and Arc, of which Moutiers is the modern capital, between the Graian and Pennine Alps. S. James made Centronum, or Moutiers, the seat of the bishopric, and there he laboured to convert the people still buried in heathenism. Of him is related a story [Pg 243] very similar to that told of other Saints, viz., that as his monks were cutting down trees in the forest, for the construction of his cathedral church, a bear killed one of the oxen which drew the timber. Then the monks fled in consternation to S. James, who went boldly to the bear and said, "I, James, the servant of Christ, command thee, cruel beast, to bow thy stubborn neck to the yoke, in place of the ox thou hast slain." Then the bear was obedient, and drew the timber to the church.

James, originally from Asia and a soldier, was one of the first disciples of St. Honoratus in his monastic community at Lerins. When St. Honoratus became Archbishop of Arles, he appointed James as the first Bishop of the Tarantaise, in the valleys of the Isère and Arc, where Moutiers is now the main town, nestled between the Graian and Pennine Alps. St. James made Centronum, or Moutiers, the center of the bishopric, and there he worked to convert the people who were still immersed in paganism. A story is told of him [Pg 243] that is quite similar to tales of other saints. It goes that while his monks were cutting down trees in the forest to build his cathedral, a bear killed one of the oxen that was pulling the timber. The frightened monks ran to St. James, who bravely approached the bear and said, "I, James, the servant of Christ, command you, fierce beast, to submit your stubborn neck to the yoke instead of the ox you have slain." The bear then obeyed and pulled the timber to the church.

S. James is also said to have taken an ass's load of pure snow of the mountain in mid-summer, as a tribute to Gondecar, King of the Burgundians, having nothing else to offer, when the king had ordered a tax to be levied on all the produce of the land.

S. James is also said to have taken a donkey's load of pure snow from the mountain in the middle of summer as a tribute to Gondecar, King of the Burgundians, because he had nothing else to give when the king ordered a tax on all the produce of the land.

S. FURSEY, AB.

(about a.d. 653.)

(circa A.D. 653.)

[Roman, Donegal, and Scottish Martyrologies, but English on March 4th; Feb. 25th is noted in several Kalendars as the festival of the translation of his relics, also Sept. 28. A very ancient life of S. Fursey, of the date of Bede, exists; later and more prolix lives exist, but are of less authority. Bede himself relates the principal events of the life of this Saint in his history, and quotes the above-mentioned life, lib. iii. c. 19.]

[Roman, Donegal, and Scottish Martyrologies mention him in English on March 4th; February 25th appears in several calendars as the festival of the translation of his relics, along with September 28. There's an ancient account of St. Fursey, traceable back to Bede; later and more detailed accounts exist, but they hold less authority. Bede himself outlines the key events of this Saint's life in his history and refers to the earlier account in book III, chapter 19.]

Fursey, son of Fintan, an Irish prince, was abbot of a monastery in the diocese of Tuam. Afterwards, travelling with two of his brothers, Fullan and Ultan, through England, he entered the province of Essex, and was honourably received by the king, Sigebert, "and performing his usual employment of preaching the Gospel," says Bede, "by the example of his virtue, and the efficacy of his discourse, he converted many unbelievers to Christ, and confirmed in faith and love those that already believed. Here he fell [Pg 244] into some infirmity of body, and was thought worthy to see a vision from God; in which he was admonished diligently to proceed in the ministry of the Word, and indefatigably to continue his usual vigils and prayers. Being confirmed by this vision, he applied himself with all speed to build a monastery on the ground which had been given him by King Sigebert, and to establish regular discipline therein. The monastery was pleasantly situated in the woods, and with the sea not far off; it was built within the area of a castle called Cnobheresburg (Burghcastle, in Suffolk.) There, falling sick, he fell into a trance, and quitting his body from evening till cock-crow, he was found worthy to behold the choirs of angels, and to hear the praises which are sung in heaven."

Fursey, son of Fintan, an Irish prince, was the abbot of a monastery in the diocese of Tuam. Later, while traveling with two of his brothers, Fullan and Ultan, through England, he entered the province of Essex and was warmly welcomed by King Sigebert. "As he went about preaching the Gospel," says Bede, "through his virtuous example and powerful speech, he converted many non-believers to Christ and strengthened the faith and love of those who already believed. Here, he fell ill and was deemed worthy to receive a vision from God, where he was urged to diligently continue ministering the Word and persistently keep up his usual prayers and vigils. Strengthened by this vision, he quickly set about building a monastery on land given to him by King Sigebert and to establish regular discipline there. The monastery was beautifully located in the woods, not far from the sea; it was built within the grounds of a castle called Cnobheresburg (Burghcastle, in Suffolk). There, after becoming ill, he fell into a trance and, leaving his body from evening until dawn, was found worthy to witness the choirs of angels and hear the praises sung in heaven."

The abbot Fursey, becoming desirous of ridding himself of all business of this world, quitted his monastery, having first confided the care of it to his brother Fullan; and resolved to end his life as a hermit. He repaired to his brother Ultan, who had already adopted the life of a solitary, and lived a whole year with him in prayer and hard labour.

The abbot Fursey, wanting to free himself from all worldly responsibilities, left his monastery after entrusting its care to his brother Fullan. He decided to live the rest of his life as a hermit. He went to stay with his brother Ultan, who was already living a solitary life, and spent an entire year with him in prayer and hard work.

Afterwards, the province being desolated by war, he crossed the sea to France, and was there honourably entertained by Clovis, King of the Franks, and then by the noble Erconwald. He built a monastery at Lagny, about six miles north of Paris, on the Marne, and falling sick not long after, departed this life.

Afterwards, the province was devastated by war, so he crossed the sea to France, where he was warmly welcomed by Clovis, King of the Franks, and then by the noble Erconwald. He built a monastery at Lagny, about six miles north of Paris, on the Marne, and soon after falling ill, he passed away.

Erconwald took his body, and deposited it in the porch of a church he was building in his town of Peronne, till the church itself should be dedicated. This happened twenty-seven days after, and the body being taken from the porch to be re-buried, near the altar, was found as entire as if he had but just died.

Erconwald took his body and placed it in the porch of a church he was building in his town of Peronne, until the church was dedicated. This happened twenty-seven days later, and when the body was taken from the porch to be re-buried near the altar, it was found to be as whole as if he had just died.

Fursey in French is Fourcy, and in Flemish Fro.

Fursey in French is Fourcy, and in Flemish it's Fro.

Patron of Lagny and Peronne.

Patron of Lagny and Péronne.

Relics, at Peronne.

Relics at Peronne.

In art, (1), with oxen at his feet, because his body was placed on a wagon, and the oxen allowed to conduct it without guide, and they went to Peronne; or (2), making a fountain spring up at Lagny, by thrusting his staff into the soil; or beholding a vision, (3), of angels, or (4), of the flames of purgatory and hell, in reference to his remarkable vision.[60]

In art, (1), with oxen at his feet, because his body was placed on a wagon, and the oxen were allowed to lead it without guidance, and they went to Peronne; or (2), making a fountain spring up at Lagny by pushing his staff into the ground; or seeing a vision, (3), of angels, or (4), of the flames of purgatory and hell, related to his remarkable vision.[60]

S. HENRY, H. IN NORTHUMBERLAND.

(a.d. 1127.)

(a.d. 1127.)

[English Martyrologies. His life in Capgrave.]

[English Martyrologies. His life in Capgrave.]

S. Henry was of Danish origin. Leaving his parents and wife, he resolved to serve God in solitude, and escaped to Coquet Island, off the coast of Northumberland. His relatives came after him, urging him to return to his home; then, in an agony of doubt, he cast himself before his crucifix, and implored God to reveal to him what was His will. Then it seemed to him that the Saviour said to him, "Abide here, play the man, and strengthen thine heart to resist. I have called thee in mine eternal purpose."

S. Henry was of Danish descent. Leaving his parents and wife behind, he decided to dedicate his life to God in solitude and fled to Coquet Island, off the coast of Northumberland. His relatives pursued him, urging him to come back home; then, in a moment of deep uncertainty, he fell to his knees in front of his crucifix and begged God to show him His will. In that moment, it felt like the Saviour spoke to him, saying, "Stay here, be strong, and strengthen your heart to resist. I have chosen you for my eternal purpose."

So he remained, and laboured in the islet, and a few brethren joined him, but lived in separate cells. And when he died, they heard the bell of his little hovel ring violently, so they ran, and found him dead, with the bell rope in his hand, and the candle by his side was alight.

So he stayed there and worked on the islet, and a few others joined him, but they lived in separate cells. When he died, they heard the bell of his small hut ringing loudly, so they rushed over and found him dead, with the bell rope in his hand and the candle beside him still burning.

His body was taken to Tynemouth, and was buried in the church of the Blessed Virgin, near that of S. Oswin.

His body was taken to Tynemouth and buried in the church of the Blessed Virgin, next to S. Oswin's grave.

FOOTNOTES:

[58] S. Eucher, De laude Eremi, p. 342.

[58] S. Eucher, On the Praise of the Hermitage, p. 342.

[59] So far Montalembert's Monks of the West, Vol. I., Book III.

[59] So far Montalembert's Monks of the West, Vol. I., Book III.

[60] There is not space to give an account of S. Fursey's vision, which seems to have been the original of Dante's Divina Commedia.

[60] There isn't enough room to explain S. Fursey's vision, which appears to have inspired Dante's Divine Comedy.


January 17.

SS. Brethren, Speusippus, Eleusippus, Meleusippus, and Companions, MM. in Cappadocia.
S. Genulph, B. in France, 3rd cent.
S. Antony the Great, Ab. in Egypt, a.d. 356.
S. Sabine, B. of Piacenza, in Italy, 4th cent.
S. Nenn, Ab. in Ulster, Ireland, 6th cent.
S. Sulpicius, B. of Bourges, in France, circ. a.d. 647.
S. Mildgytha, V. in Kent, circ. a.d. 730.
S. Ricmer, Ab. at Le Mans, in France, circ. a.d. 700.

Saints Brethren, Speusippus, Eleusippus, Meleusippus, and Companions, Martyrs in Cappadocia.
Saint Genulph, Bishop in France, 3rd century
Saint Antony the Great, Abbot in Egypt, A.D. 356.
Saint Sabine, Bishop of Piacenza, Italy, 4th century
Saint Nenn, Abbot in Ulster, Ireland, 6th century
Saint Sulpicius, Bishop of Bourges, France, around A.D. 647.
Saint Mildgytha, Virgin in Kent, around A.D. 730.
Saint Ricmer, Abbot at Le Mans, France, around A.D. 700.

SS. SPEUSIPPUS, ELEUSIPPUS, MELEUSIPPUS, LEONILLA, JONILLA, NEO AND TURBO, MM.

(DATE UNCERTAIN.)

(DATE UNKNOWN.)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The relics of these Saints having been moved to Langres, in France, they are sometimes called Martyrs of Langres, and are supposed to have suffered there; but this is a mistake. A copy of the Acts of their martyrdom was sent from Langres by one Varnahair to S. Ceraunus, Bishop of Paris, in the beginning of the 7th century. The original Acts are said to have been written by SS. Neo and Turbo, but they have not come down to us without manifest corruption and interpolation.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa. The relics of these saints were transferred to Langres, France, so they are sometimes called the Martyrs of Langres, and it's believed they suffered there; however, this is incorrect. In the early 7th century, a copy of the Acts of their martyrdom was sent from Langres by a man named Varnahair to St. Ceraunus, Bishop of Paris. The original Acts are said to have been written by Saints Neo and Turbo, but they have unfortunately come to us with significant corruption and alterations.]

S.

peusippus, Eleusippus, and Meleusippus were three sons at a birth of a believing mother and a heathen father. They were instructed in the Christian faith by their aunt, Leonilla, and then, in boyish enthusiasm, they rushed from her knee, where they had been taught, to demolish the idols in the temples of the city they inhabited. They were taken and burnt in one pyre, and received the baptism of blood. Jonilla, a woman standing by, with her little babe in her arms, cried out, "I also am a Christian, I believe in Christ, my God and my King." Then the judge ordered her hands to be bound behind her [Pg 247] back, and that she should be hung by her hair. Her husband, horrified at the sentence, implored her to save her life for his sake and that of the babe; but she answered, "True, that I gave life to this dear little one, but it is true also that I owe my life to God, and I cannot set God after my child." Leonilla, the aunt of the brothers, was executed. Then Neo, who wrote these Acts, closing his tablets, in which he had inscribed what had taken place, gave them to his colleague, Turbo, and ran to the image of Nemesis, and cast it down, and stamped on the marble fragments. And when the guardians of the temple saw this, they seized him and beat and stoned him till he yielded up his soul to God. "Turbo also, who wrote the victories of these confessors, not long afterwards suffered martyrdom." With these words the Acts close.

Peusippus, Eleusippus, and Meleusippus were three sons born to a believing mother and a heathen father. Their aunt, Leonilla, taught them the Christian faith, and filled with youthful excitement, they ran from her side, eager to destroy the idols in the temples of their city. They were captured and burned on the same pyre, receiving the baptism of blood. A woman named Jonilla, who was nearby with her baby, cried out, "I am also a Christian, I believe in Christ, my God and my King." The judge then ordered her hands to be tied behind her back and that she should be hung by her hair. Her husband, horrified by the sentence, begged her to save her life for his sake and for the baby’s, but she replied, "It’s true that I gave life to this dear little one, but it’s also true that I owe my life to God, and I cannot place God after my child." Leonilla, the aunt of the brothers, was executed. Then Neo, who documented these acts, closed his tablets where he had recorded the events, handed them to his colleague Turbo, rushed to the image of Nemesis, knocked it down, and stomped on the marble pieces. When the temple guards saw this, they seized him, beat him, and stoned him until he died. "Turbo, who wrote about the victories of these confessors, suffered martyrdom shortly afterward." With these words, the Acts conclude.

These saintly brothers are called in France Les SS. Jaumes, that is to say Gemelli, for Tergemini; sometimes Geaumes.

These holy brothers are called in France Les SS. Jaumes, meaning Gemelli, for Tergemini; sometimes Geaumes.

S. GENULPH, B. C.

(3rd cent.)

(3rd century)

[Commemorated on this day at Cahors, of which diocese he is regarded as the Apostle and first Bishop. He is however mentioned in several Martyrologies as Bishop of Bourges. It is probable that he was a missionary Bishop without settled see. Called in the Roman Martyrology, June 17th, Gundulph; same day and name the same in the Bourges Breviary, that being the day of his translation, Jan. 17th, of his death. His life was written by S. Sebastus, three years after the death of S. Genulph, but this has not come down to us in its original form. It has, however, doubtless formed the basis of a life written about a.d. 910, published by Bollandus.]

Today in Cahors, he is remembered as the Apostle and first Bishop of the diocese. He is also mentioned in various Martyrologies as the Bishop of Bourges. It's likely that he was a missionary Bishop without a permanent seat. In the Roman Martyrology, he is noted on June 17th as Gundulph; the same date and name are found in the Bourges Breviary, which marks January 17th, the day of his translation, as the day of his death. His life was recorded by St. Sebastus three years after St. Genulph's death, but the original text hasn't survived. However, it likely laid the groundwork for a biography written around a.d. 910, published by Bollandus.

Genitus and his wife, Aclia, were pious Christians at Rome, serving God constantly, night and day, and happy in one another's love. But one thing they lacked which [Pg 248] grieved them sore, they had no child. Having asked God to look upon them and give them a son, He heard their prayer, and the wife of Genitus brought forth a man-child, and they called him Genulph, or Gundulph. At the age of five, the parents gave him to S. Sixtus, Bishop of Rome, to educate him in the knowledge and love of God. On the breaking out of the Decian persecution, S. Sixtus ordained Genulph bishop, bade him and his father go into Gaul, and preach the Gospel there. S. Genulph ever wore a garment of camel's hair, "except when he celebrated the Holy Mysteries, when he was arrayed in soft linen, and such other shining vestments as pertain to so great a mystery. But when the mystery was celebrated, he put on him again the rough garb."[61] Having entered the territory of the Cadurci, now called Cahors, he preached the word of God vehemently, and wrought many miracles of healing. Then he and his father were denounced to the Governor, and were beaten and scorched with fire, but remained constant to the faith, witnessing a good profession, so that the Governor marvelled, and questioned them about their faith, and so was brought to a knowledge of the truth; and he released the confessors from prison, and they preached boldly, and multitudes came and were baptized; so mightily grew the word of God and prevailed. And afterwards he left Cahors, and went north, till he came to the country of the Bituriges, or Berry, and there he took up his residence in a haunted cell, which all the people of the neighbourhood avoided, through fear. But Genulph sprinkled it with holy water, and signed himself with the cross, and boldly took up his residence therein, nor was he troubled by evil spirits. Living in this cell, he laboured diligently with his hands, cultivating the soil, and keeping very many cocks and hens. The fame of his sanctity drew others to him, and [Pg 249] he became the head of a community. Also many sick came there to be nursed, and the peasants to be instructed. Then Genulph fed them with the eggs, and with the hens, which he killed and roasted. One day a fox came, and carried off a hen. Hearing the noise in the poultry yard, Genulph ran out, and saw the fox stealing away with his prey. Then he cried, "Reynard! that hen is not thine. Wherefore dost thou rob the poor brothers, who have not injured thee?" And the fox let go the hen unhurt.

Genitus and his wife, Aclia, were devout Christians in Rome, constantly serving God, day and night, and happy in each other's love. However, they deeply mourned one thing—they had no child. After praying for God to look upon them and grant them a son, He answered their prayers, and Aclia gave birth to a boy, whom they named Genulph, or Gundulph. At five years old, they entrusted him to S. Sixtus, Bishop of Rome, to raise him in the knowledge and love of God. When the Decian persecution began, S. Sixtus ordained Genulph as a bishop, instructing him and his father to go to Gaul and preach the Gospel. S. Genulph always wore a garment made of camel's hair, except when he celebrated the Holy Mysteries, during which he donned fine linen and other radiant vestments appropriate for such a significant ritual. After the ceremony, he would again wear the rough clothing. Upon entering the territory of the Cadurci, now known as Cahors, he fervently preached God’s word and performed numerous healing miracles. Eventually, he and his father were reported to the Governor, who ordered them to be beaten and burned, but they remained steadfast in their faith, impressing the Governor. He questioned them about their beliefs, leading him to discover the truth. Consequently, he freed the confessors from prison, allowing them to preach with confidence, drawing many who were baptized; thus, the word of God grew tremendously and triumphed. Afterward, he left Cahors and traveled north to the land of the Bituriges, or Berry, where he settled in an abandoned cell that everyone in the area avoided out of fear. However, Genulph blessed it with holy water and made the sign of the cross, confidently taking up residence there, unharmed by any evil spirits. While living in this cell, he worked diligently, tilling the land and keeping many roosters and hens. His reputation for holiness attracted others, and he became the leader of a community. Many sick people came to him for care, and local farmers sought his teachings. Genulph fed them with eggs and roasted the hens he would catch. One day, a fox came along and stole a hen. Hearing the commotion in the chicken coop, Genulph rushed out to find the fox making off with his prize. He shouted, "Reynard! That hen isn’t yours. Why do you steal from the poor brothers, who have done you no harm?" The fox then dropped the hen unharmed.

When he was dying, he exhorted the brethren to wrap him in sack-cloth and bury him outside the church, "for it seemed to him unfitting that the prey of worms and corruption should be placed within the holy tabernacle."

When he was dying, he urged the brothers to wrap him in sackcloth and bury him outside the church, "because he felt it was inappropriate for the bodies that would decay and be eaten by worms to be placed inside the holy space."

S. ANTONY THE GREAT, AB.

(a.d. 356.)

(A.D. 356.)

[S. Antony is famous in the East as in the West, and is named in all Kalendars. His life was written by S. Athanasius, and is quite genuine. S. Antony is also spoken of at length by Sozomen, Socrates, S. Jerome, Ruffinus, Theodoret, Evagrius, &c. The following account is a condensed translation of the life of the great patriarch of monks, by S. Athanasius. It is necessarily very much abbreviated.]

Saint Antony is famous in both the East and West, appearing in all calendars. His life was documented by Saint Athanasius and is recognized as genuine. Saint Antony is also extensively referenced by Sozomen, Socrates, Saint Jerome, Ruffinus, Theodoret, Evagrius, and others. Below is a summarized translation of the life of the great patriarch of monks, by Saint Athanasius. It has been significantly condensed.

Antony was an Egyptian by race, born of noble parents,[62] who had a sufficient property of their own: and as they were Christians, he too was Christianly brought up, and when a boy was nourished in the house of his parents, besides whom and his home he knew nought. But when he grew older, he would not be taught letters,[63] not wishing to mix with other boys; but all his longing was (according to what is written of Jacob) to dwell simply in his own [Pg 250] house. But when his parents took him into the Lord's house he was not saucy, as a boy, nor inattentive as he grew older; but was subject to his parents, and attentive to what was read, turning it to his own account. Nor, again, did he trouble his parents for various and expensive dainties; but was content with what he found, and asked for nothing more. When his parents died, he was left alone with a little sister, when he was about eighteen or twenty years of age, and he took care both of his house and of her. But not six months after their death, as he was going as usual to the Lord's house, and collecting his thoughts, he meditated, as he walked, how the Apostles had left all and followed the Saviour; and how those in the Acts brought the price of what they had sold, and laid it at the Apostles' feet, to be given away to the poor; and what, and how great, a hope was laid up for them in heaven. With this in his mind he entered the church. And it befell then that the Gospel was being read; and he heard how the Lord had said to the rich man, "If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell all that thou hast, and give to the poor; and come, follow me, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven." Antony, therefore, as if the remembrance of the saints had come to him from God, and as if the lesson had been read on his account, went forth at once from the Lord's house, and gave away to those of his own village the possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three hundred plough-lands, fertile and very fair), that they might give no trouble either to him or his sister. All his moveables he sold, and a considerable sum which he received for them he gave to the poor. But having kept back a little for his sister, when he went again into the Lord's house, he heard the Lord saying in the Gospel, "Take no thought for the morrow;" and, unable to endure any more delay, he went out and distributed that too to the needy. And having committed his sister to known and faithful [Pg 251] virgins, and given to her wherewith to be educated in a nunnery, he himself thenceforth devoted himself, outside his house, to training; taking heed to himself, and using himself severely. For monasteries were not then common in Egypt, nor did any monks know the wide desert; but each, who wished to take heed to himself, exercised himself alone, not far from his own village. There was then, in the next village, an old man who had trained himself in a solitary life from his youth. When Antony saw him, he emulated him in that which is noble. And first he began to stay outside the village; and then, if he heard of any earnest man, he went to seek him, and did not return till he had seen him. So dwelling there at first, he settled his mind neither to look back towards his parents' wealth nor to recollect his relations; but he put all his longing and all his earnestness on training himself more intensely. For the rest he worked with his hands, because he had heard, "If any man will not work, neither let him eat;" and of his earnings he spent some on himself and some on the needy. He prayed continually, because he knew that one ought to pray secretly, without ceasing. He attended also so much to what was read, that with him none of the Scriptures fell to the ground, but he retained them all, and for the future his memory served him instead of books. Behaving thus, Antony was beloved by all; and submitted truly to the earnest men to whom he used to go. And from each of them he learnt some improvement in his earnestness and his training: he contemplated the courtesy of one, and another's assiduity in prayer; another's freedom from anger; another's love of mankind: he took heed to one as he watched; to another as he studied: one he admired for his endurance, another for his fasting and sleeping on the ground; he laid to heart the meekness of one, and the long-suffering of another; and stamped upon [Pg 252] his memory the devotion to Christ and the mutual love which all in common possessed. And thus filled full, he returned to his own place of training, gathering to himself what he had got from each, and striving to show all their qualities in himself. He never emulated those of his own age, save in what is best; and did that so as to pain no one, but make all rejoice over him. And all in the village who loved good, seeing him thus, called him the friend of God; and some embraced him as a son, some as a brother.

Antony was of Egyptian descent, born to noble parents,[62] who had enough wealth of their own. Since they were Christians, he was raised as a Christian, spending his childhood in the care of his parents, knowing nothing beyond them and his home. But as he grew older, he refused to learn letters,[63] not wanting to associate with other boys; he only desired (as it’s said about Jacob) to simply stay at home. However, when his parents took him to church, he wasn’t disrespectful as a boy nor inattentive as he got older; he obeyed his parents and was attentive to the readings, applying them to himself. He also didn’t bother his parents for fancy foods; he was satisfied with what he had and didn’t ask for more. After his parents passed away, he was left alone with a younger sister when he was about eighteen or twenty, and he took care of both their home and her. But not six months after their deaths, while he was going to church as usual, his mind wandered to how the Apostles had left everything to follow the Savior; how those in the Acts of the Apostles brought the money from things they had sold and placed it at the Apostles' feet to help the poor; and the immense hope laid up for them in heaven. With this in mind, he entered the church. It just so happened that the Gospel was being read, and he heard how the Lord told the rich man, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell all that you have, give to the poor; come, follow me, and you will have treasure in heaven." So, as if inspired by the saints and feeling the message was meant for him, Antony immediately left church and gave away the possessions he had inherited from his ancestors (three hundred fertile and beautiful acres of land) so that they wouldn’t be a burden to him or his sister. He sold all his movable property and donated a significant amount of the proceeds to the poor. He kept a bit for his sister, but when he returned to church, he heard the Lord say in the Gospel, "Do not worry about tomorrow;" and unable to wait any longer, he went out and gave that away as well. He entrusted his sister to dependable and faithful virgins, providing her with what she needed for her education in a convent, and from then on, he dedicated himself to training outside his home, staying focused and strict with himself. At that time, monasteries were not common in Egypt, and no monks knew the vast desert; instead, anyone wishing to be disciplined trained alone, not far from their own village. In a nearby village, there was an old man who had lived a solitary life since his youth. When Antony saw him, he felt inspired to adopt noble practices. He began by staying outside the village, and if he heard of anyone who was sincere, he sought them out and didn’t return until he had met them. Initially lingering there, he resolved not to look back at his parents’ wealth or think of his relatives; instead, he put all his passion and effort into intensifying his training. For his sustenance, he worked with his hands, remembering, "If anyone does not work, neither should he eat;" and with his earnings, he spent some on himself and some on those in need. He prayed constantly, understanding the importance of praying in secret and without stopping. He paid such close attention to the readings that he retained all the Scriptures, using his memory in place of books. Because of this behavior, Antony was loved by everyone and truly submitted to the serious individuals he visited. From each of them, he learned ways to improve his dedication and his training: he admired one person’s kindness, another’s dedication to prayer, one for their calmness, another for their compassion; he observed another’s vigilance, one’s studying habits, one he respected for their endurance, another for their fasting and sleeping on the ground; he noted the humility of one and the patience of another; and he took to heart the dedication to Christ and the mutual love shared by all. Filled with this knowledge, he returned to his training, gathering insights from each person and striving to embody their qualities. He never imitated those his age except in the best of ways, doing so in a manner that brought no harm but joy to others. All the villagers who admired good called him a friend of God; some embraced him as a son, others as a brother.

But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure such a purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all that he is wont to do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care for his sister, relation to his kindred, love of money, love of glory, the various pleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of life; and then the harshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the weakness of his body, and the length of time; and altogether raised a great dust-cloud of arguments in his mind, trying to turn him back from his righteous choice. But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony's determination, then he attacked him with the temptations which he is wont to use against young men; but Antony protected his body with faith, prayers, and fastings. At last, when the evil one could not overthrow Antony even thus, as if beside himself he appeared to the sight as a black child, and falling down before him, no longer tempted him to argue, but using a human voice, said, "I have deceived many; I have cast down many. But now I have been worsted in the battle." Then, when Antony asked him, "Who art thou who speakest thus to me?" he forthwith replied in a pitiable voice, "I am the spirit of impurity."

But the devil, who hates and envies what is good, couldn't stand the idea of such a purpose in a young man. He attacked him with everything he usually does; he reminded him of his wealth, his concern for his sister, his family ties, his love for money, his desire for fame, the various pleasures of luxury, and all the comforts of life. Then he brought up the harshness of virtue and its demanding effort, the weakness of his body, and the length of time required; he stirred up a storm of arguments in his mind, trying to turn him away from his righteous decision. But when the enemy realized he was too weak against Antony's resolve, he resorted to the temptations he normally uses against young men. However, Antony shielded himself with faith, prayers, and fasting. Eventually, when the evil one saw he could still not defeat Antony, he appeared like a dark child, falling down before him. No longer trying to argue, he used a human voice and said, "I have deceived many; I have brought down many. But now I have been defeated in this battle." When Antony asked him, "Who are you that speaks to me like this?" he answered in a pitiful voice, "I am the spirit of impurity."

S. ANTHONY TORTURED BY DEMONS.

This was Antony's first struggle against the devil: or rather this mighty deed in him was the Saviour's, who condemned sin in the flesh that the righteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. But neither did Antony, because the evil one had fallen, grow careless and despise him; neither did the enemy, when worsted by him, cease from lying in ambush against him. Antony ate once a day, after the setting of the sun, and sometimes only once in two days, often even in four; his food was bread with salt, his drink nothing but water. When he slept he was content with a rush-mat; but mostly he lay on the bare ground. He would not anoint himself with oil, saying that it was more fit for young men to be earnest in training than to seek things which softened the body; and that they must accustom themselves to labour. So forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning afresh, took more pains to improve, saying over to himself continually the Apostle's words, "Forgetting what is behind, stretching forward to what is before." Antony then went to the tombs, which happened to be some way from the village; and having bidden one of his acquaintances bring him bread at intervals of many days, he entered one of the tombs, and, shutting the door upon himself, remained there alone. But Satan, terrified lest in a little while he should fill the desert with his training, coming one night with a multitude of dæmons, beat him so much with stripes that he lay speechless from the torture. But by the providence of God, the next day his acquaintance came, bringing him the loaves. And having opened the door, and seeing him lying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the Lord's house in the village, and laid him on the ground; and many of his kinsfolk and the villagers sat round him, as round a corpse. But about midnight, Antony coming to himself, and waking up, saw them all sleeping, and only his acquaintance awake, and, nodding to him to approach, begged him to carry him back to the tomb, without waking any one. When that was done, the door was shut, and he remained as before, alone [Pg 254] inside. And because he could not stand on account of the dæmon's blows, he prayed prostrate. And after his prayer, he said with a shout, "Here am I, Antony: I do not fly from your stripes; yea, do your worst, nothing shall separate me from the love of Christ." And then he sang, "Though an host were laid against me, yet shall not my heart be afraid." So then, in the night, the devils made such a crash, that the whole place seemed shaken, and the dæmons, as if breaking in the four walls of the room, seemed to enter through them, changing themselves into the shapes of beasts and creeping things; and the place was forthwith filled with shapes of lions, bears, leopards, bulls and snakes, asps, scorpions and wolves, and each of them moved according to his own fashion. The lion roared, longing to attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent writhed, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether the noises of all the apparitions were dreadful. But Antony lay unshaken and awake in spirit. He groaned at the pain of his body: but clear in intellect, and as it were mocking, he said, "If there were any power in you, it were enough that one of you should come on; but since the Lord has made you weak, therefore you try to frighten me by mere numbers. And a proof of your weakness is, that you imitate the shapes of brute animals." And taking courage, he said again, "If ye can, and have received power against me, delay not, but attack; but if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain? For a seal to us and a wall of safety is our faith in the Lord." The devils, having made many efforts, gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked at them than they at him. But neither then did the Lord forget Antony's wrestling, but appeared to help him. For, looking up, he saw the roof as it were opened, and a ray of light coming down towards him. The devils suddenly became invisible, and the pain of his body forthwith ceased, and the building [Pg 255] became quite whole. But Antony, feeling the succour, and getting his breath again, and freed from pain, questioned the vision which appeared, saying, "Where wert thou? Why didst thou not appear to me from the first, to stop my pangs?" And a voice came to him, "Antony, I was here, but I waited to see thy fight. Therefore, since thou hast withstood, and hast not been worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and will make thee become famous everywhere." Hearing this, he rose and prayed, and was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his body than he had before. He was then about thirty-and-five years old. And on the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to God; and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with him in the desert. But when he declined, because of his age, and because no such custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set off to the mountain. But the fiend cast in his way a great silver plate. But Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates what is noble, stopped. And he judged the plate worthless; and said, "Whence comes a plate in the desert? This is no beaten way. Had it fallen, it could not have been unperceived, from its great size; and besides, he who lost it would have turned back and found it, because the place is desert. This is a trick of the devil. Thou shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by this: let it go with thee into perdition." Then again he saw gold lying in the way as he came up. Antony, wondering at the abundance of it, stepped over it and never turned, but ran on in haste, until he had lost sight of the place. And growing even more and more intense in his determination, he rushed up the mountain, and finding an empty enclosure full of creeping things, on account of its age, he dwelt in it. The creeping things straightway left the place: but he blocked up the entry, having taken with him loaves for six months (for the [Pg 256] Thebans do this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and having water with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, he remained alone, never going forth, and never looking at any one who came. Thus he passed a long time there training himself, and only twice a year received loaves, let down from above through the roof. But those of his acquaintance who came to him, as they often remained days and nights outside (for he did not allow any one to enter), used to hear as it were crowds inside clamouring, thundering, lamenting, crying, "Depart from our ground. What dost thou even in the desert? Thou canst not abide our onset." At first those without thought that there were some men fighting with him, and that they had got in by ladders: but when, peeping in through a crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that they were devils. His acquaintances came up continually, expecting to find him dead, and heard him singing, "Let God arise, and let his enemies be scattered; let them also that hate Him flee before Him. Like as the wax melteth at the fire, so let the ungodly perish at the presence of God." And again, "All nations compassed me round about, but in the name of the Lord will I destroy them."

This was Antony's first battle against the devil; or rather, this powerful act in him was the Lord's, who condemned sin in the flesh so that the righteousness of the Lord could be fulfilled in us, who do not live according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. Yet, Antony did not grow careless or look down on him just because the evil one had fallen; nor did the enemy, when defeated by him, stop lying in wait for him. Antony ate once a day, after sunset, and sometimes only once every two days, or even every four days; his food consisted of bread with salt, and his drink was only water. When he slept, he was content with a rush mat but mostly lay on the bare ground. He wouldn't anoint himself with oil, saying it was better for young men to be serious about training rather than seeking things that soften the body, and they must learn to endure hard work. So, forgetting the past, he started each day as if beginning anew, putting in more effort to improve, often repeating to himself the Apostle's words, "Forgetting what is behind, stretching forward to what is ahead." Antony then went to the tombs, which were a bit away from the village; having asked a friend to bring him bread every few days, he entered one of the tombs, closed the door behind him, and stayed there alone. But Satan, afraid that he would soon fill the desert with his training, came one night with a multitude of demons and beat him so badly that he lay there speechless from the pain. However, by God's providence, the next day his friend came back with the bread. When he opened the door and saw Antony lying on the ground as if dead, he carried him to the Lord's house in the village and laid him down; many of his relatives and the villagers gathered around him, like they would a corpse. But around midnight, Antony came to his senses and woke up, seeing everyone else asleep, except for his friend. He gestured for him to come closer and asked him to take him back to the tomb without waking anyone. Once that was done, he shut the door and was alone inside again. Because he could hardly stand due to the demon's blows, he prayed while on the ground. After praying, he shouted, "Here I am, Antony: I do not flee from your blows; go ahead, do your worst, nothing will separate me from the love of Christ." And then he sang, "Though an army surrounds me, my heart will not be afraid." That night, the demons made such a noise that the entire place seemed to shake, and the demons, as if breaking down the walls, appeared before him in the shapes of beasts and creeping things; the area was immediately filled with figures of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, snakes, asps, scorpions, and wolves, each acting according to its own nature. The lion roared, eager to attack; the bull appeared to charge; the serpent slithered, and the wolf lunged at him, creating terrifying sounds. But Antony remained calm and alert in spirit. He groaned from the pain in his body, but his mind was clear, and as if mocking, he said, "If you had any power, it would be enough for just one of you to come at me; but since the Lord has made you weak, you try to frighten me just with numbers. The evidence of your weakness is that you take on the forms of brute animals." Finding courage, he continued, "If you can, and have received power against me, then don’t hesitate; attack; but if you can’t, why do you disturb me in vain? For our faith in the Lord is a seal for us and a wall of safety." The demons, having made many attempts, gnashed their teeth at him because he was mocking them rather than the other way around. But even then, the Lord did not forget Antony's struggle and appeared to help him. Looking up, he saw what seemed to be the roof opened, and a ray of light coming down toward him. The demons suddenly vanished, the pain in his body immediately stopped, and the room became whole again. Feeling relief and catching his breath, Antony questioned the vision, saying, "Where were you? Why didn't you appear to me from the start to stop my suffering?" And a voice came to him, "Antony, I was here, but I waited to see your fight. Now that you have stood firm and not been defeated, I will always be your help and will make you famous everywhere." After hearing this, he got up and prayed, feeling stronger than he had before. He was then about thirty-five years old. The next day, he went out, even more eager for devotion to God, and asked the old man mentioned earlier to join him in the desert. But when the old man declined due to his age and because no one had done such a thing yet, Antony set off for the mountain. The devil tried to hinder him by placing a large silver plate in his path. But Antony, realizing the trick of the enemy of what is noble, stopped. He deemed the plate worthless and said, "Where did this plate come from in the desert? This is not a traveled road. If it had fallen, its size would have made it impossible to miss; besides, the one who lost it would have turned back to find it since this place is deserted. This is a trick of the devil. You won’t stop my resolve with this: let it go with you to ruin." Then he saw gold lying in his path as he continued upward. Antony, amazed at its abundance, stepped over it without looking back and hurried on until the place was out of sight. Growing even stronger in determination, he rushed up the mountain, found an empty enclosure filled with creeping things due to its age, and decided to stay there. The creeping things quickly left; he blocked the entrance, having brought enough bread for six months (for the Thebans do this, and they can often keep it fresh for a whole year), and with water in hand, he entered like it was a sanctuary, remaining alone and never going out, not even looking at anyone who came. Thus, he spent a long time there training himself, only accepting loaves dropped from above through the roof twice a year. However, those who came to see him often spent days and nights outside (as he didn't allow anyone in) and would hear what sounded like crowds inside shouting, thundering, lamenting, and crying, "Leave our ground. What are you doing in the desert? You can't withstand our attack." At first, those outside thought there were men fighting with him and that they had gotten inside via ladders; but when they peeked through a crack and saw no one, they concluded that they were demons. Antony's friends frequently came, expecting to find him dead, and heard him singing, "Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered; let those who hate Him flee before Him. Like wax melts in the fire, may the wicked perish in the presence of God." And again, "All nations surrounded me, but in the name of the Lord, I will destroy them."

He endured this for twenty years, training himself alone; neither going forth, nor being seen by any one for long periods of time. But after this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his training, and others who knew him came, and would have burst in the door by force, Antony came forth, as from some inner shrine, initiated into the mysteries of God. And when they saw him they wondered; for his body had neither grown fat, nor waxed lean from fasting, but he was just such as they had known him before his retirement. They wondered again at the purity of his soul, because it was neither contracted, as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure, nor possessed by laughter or by depression; for he was neither troubled at beholding the crowd, [Pg 257] nor over-joyful at being saluted by too many; but was altogether equal, as being governed by reason, and standing on that which is according to nature. Many sufferers in body, who were present, did the Lord heal by him. And He gave to Antony grace in speaking, so that he comforted many who grieved, and reconciled others who were at variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing in the world to the love of Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to be mindful of the good things to come, and of the love of God towards us, who spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all. He persuaded many to choose the solitary life; and so, thenceforth, cells sprang up in the mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks.

He went through this for twenty years, training by himself; not going out or being seen by anyone for long stretches of time. But then, when many people longed for him and wanted to follow his example, and others who knew him came and nearly broke down the door, Antony stepped out as if from some sacred space, initiated into the mysteries of God. When they saw him, they were amazed; his body had neither become fat nor excessively thin from fasting—he looked just as they had known him before retreating. They were also struck by the purity of his soul, which was neither tight from grief nor loose from pleasure, and wasn’t driven by laughter or depression; he wasn’t disturbed by the sight of the crowd or overly joyful at being greeted by so many. He was completely steady, governed by reason, and aligned with what is natural. Many people who were suffering physically were healed by the Lord through him. He was given the ability to speak well, providing comfort to many who were grieving, reconciling those who were in conflict, and urging everyone to value nothing in the world more than the love of Christ. He encouraged them to keep in mind the good things to come and the love of God towards us, who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for us all. He convinced many to choose a solitary life; and from that point on, cells began to appear in the mountains, and the desert was filled with monks.

But when he returned to the cell, he persisted in the noble labours of his youth; and by continued exhortations he increased the willingness of those who were already monks, and stirred to love of training the greater number of the rest; and quickly, as his speech drew men on, the cells became more numerous; and he governed them all as a father.

But when he went back to the cell, he continued the noble work of his youth; and through his constant encouragement, he boosted the enthusiasm of those who were already monks and inspired many others to embrace the discipline. Before long, as his words motivated people, the cells multiplied, and he guided them all like a father.

The cells in the mountains were like tents filled with divine choirs, singing, discoursing, fasting, praying, rejoicing over the hope of the future, working that they might give alms thereof, and having love and concord with each other. And there was really to be seen, as it were, a land by itself, of piety and justice; for there was none there who did wrong, or suffered wrong; but a multitude of men training [Pg 258] themselves, and in all of them a mind set on virtue. After these things, the persecution which happened under the Maximinus of that time,[64] laid hold of the Church; and when the holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria, Antony too followed, leaving his cell, and saying, "Let us depart too, that we may wrestle if we be called, or see them wrestling." And he longed to be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to give himself up, he ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the prisons. And he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the readiness of those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and bring on their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to martyrdom. At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and earnestness of him and those who were with him, commanded that none of the monks should appear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in the city. So all the rest thought good to hide themselves that day; but Antony cared so little for the order, that he washed his cloak, and stood next day upon a high place, and appeared to the Governor in shining white. Therefore, when all the rest wondered, and the Governor saw him, and passed by with his array, he stood fearless. He himself prayed to be a martyr, and was like one grieved, because he had not borne his witness. But the Lord was preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he might become a teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from Scripture. For many, when they only saw his manner of life, were eager to emulate it. So he again ministered continually to the confessors; and, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his services. And when at last the persecution ceased, and the blessed Bishop Peter had been martyred, he left the city, and went back to his cell. And he was there, day by day, a martyr in his conscience, and wrestling in the conflict of faith; for he imposed on himself a much more severe training than before; and his garment was within of hair, without of skin, which he kept till his end.

The cells in the mountains were like tents filled with divine choirs, singing, talking, fasting, praying, and celebrating the hope of the future, working so they could share their blessings with others, and living in love and harmony with one another. It really felt like a land of its own, full of piety and justice; for there was no one there who did wrong or suffered wrong. Instead, there was a multitude of people training themselves, all focused on virtue. Then, the persecution that occurred under Maximinus at that time took hold of the Church, and when the holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria, Antony also followed, leaving his cell and saying, "Let's go too, so we can wrestle if we are called or see them wrestling." He longed to be a martyr himself but, instead of giving himself up, he supported the confessors in the mines and prisons. He worked hard to motivate those who were called to wrestle in the judgment hall and helped guide those who went to martyrdom until they were perfected. Eventually, the judge saw the fearlessness and determination of him and those with him and ordered that none of the monks should appear in the judgment hall or even be seen in the city. So, everyone else decided to hide that day, but Antony was so unconcerned with the order that he washed his cloak and stood the next day on a high place, appearing before the Governor in shining white. When everyone else marveled and the Governor saw him and passed by with his entourage, he stood fearless. He prayed to become a martyr and felt regret for not having been able to bear witness. But the Lord was preserving him for our benefit and that of others, so he could be a teacher to many, sharing the lessons he had learned from Scripture. Many, just by seeing how he lived, were eager to follow his example. He continued to support the confessors tirelessly, as if he were bound with them, exhausting himself in his services. When the persecution finally ended and the blessed Bishop Peter had been martyred, he left the city and returned to his cell. There, day by day, he was a martyr in spirit and engaged in the struggle of faith; he imposed an even stricter regimen on himself than before, wearing a hairy garment on the inside and skin on the outside, which he kept until his last days.

When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go [Pg 259] forth himself, nor to receive any one, one Martinian, a captain of soldiers, came and gave trouble to Antony. For he had with him his daughter, who was possessed by a devil. And while he remained a long time knocking at the door, and expecting him to come to pray to God for the child, Antony could not bear to open, but leaning from above, said, "Man, why criest thou to me? I, too, am a man, as thou art. But if thou believest, pray to God, and it shall come to pass." Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ; and went away, his daughter made whole. Most of the sufferers, when he did not open the door, sat down outside the cell, and praying, were cleansed. But when he saw himself troubled by many, and not being permitted to retire, as he wished, being afraid lest he himself should be puffed up by what the Lord was doing by him, or lest others should count of him above what he was, he resolved to go to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew him not. And, in fact, having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat down on the bank of the river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might embark and go up in it. And as he watched, a voice came to him: "Antony, whither art thou going, and why?" And he, not terrified, but as one accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it, "Because the crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I minded to go up to the Upper Thebaid, on account of the many annoyances which befall me; and above all, because they ask of me things beyond my strength." And the voice said to him, "Even if thou goest up to the Thebaid, even if, as thou art minded to do, thou goest down to the cattle pastures,[65] thou wilt have to endure more; but if thou wilt really be at rest, go now into the inner desert." And when Antony said, "Who will [Pg 260] show me the way, for I have not tried it?" forthwith he was shown Saracens who were going to journey that road. So, going to them, and drawing near them, Antony asked leave to depart with them into the desert. They willingly received him; and, journeying three days and three nights with them, he came to a very high mountain;[66] and there was water under the mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold, and a plain outside; and a few neglected date-palms. Then Antony, as if stirred by God, loved the spot. Having received bread from those who journeyed with him, he remained alone in the mount, no one else being with him. For he recognized that place as his own home, and kept it thenceforth. And the Saracens themselves seeing Antony's readiness, came that way on purpose, and joyfully brought him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of the dates, which were then small and paltry. But after this, the brethren, having found out the spot, like children remembering their father, were anxious to send things to him; but Antony saw that, in bringing him bread, some were put to trouble and fatigue; so he asked some who came to him to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and when these were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he found a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by year, he got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be burdensome to no one on that account. But after this, seeing again some people coming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that he who came might have some small solace, after the labour of that hard journey. At first, however, the wild beasts in the desert, coming on account of the water, often hurt his crops and his tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one of them, said to them all, "Why do you hurt me, who have not hurt you? [Pg 261] Depart, and, in the name of the Lord, never come near this place." And from that time forward, as if they were afraid of his command, they never came near the place. So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having leisure for prayer and for training. But the brethren who ministered to him asked him that they might bring him olives, and pulse, and oil every month; for, after all, he was old.

When he decided to stay in and avoid visitors, a soldier named Martinian came to trouble Antony. He brought his daughter, who was possessed by a demon. Martinian knocked on the door for a long time, waiting for Antony to come out and pray for the child. But Antony couldn’t bring himself to open the door. Leaning out from above, he said, "Why are you calling out to me? I’m just a man like you. But if you believe, pray to God, and it will happen." Immediately, Martinian believed, called on Christ, and left with his daughter healed. Most of the people who sat outside praying were also healed when he didn’t open the door. However, when he saw that many people were bothering him and wouldn’t let him rest as he wanted, fearing he might become proud or that others would think too highly of him, he decided to go to Upper Thebaid, where no one knew him. He took some bread from the brothers and sat by the riverbank, waiting for a boat to pass by so he could board it. As he waited, a voice came to him: "Antony, where are you going and why?" He wasn’t scared; he was used to being called like this. He answered, "The crowds won’t let me rest, so I plan to go to Upper Thebaid because of the many annoyances I face, especially since they ask me for things beyond my ability." The voice responded, "Even if you go to Thebaid, or if you go down to the cattle pastures, you’ll have to endure even more. But if you really want to find peace, go now into the inner desert." When Antony asked, "Who will show me the way, since I’ve never been there?" he immediately saw the Saracens traveling that route. He approached them and asked if he could go with them into the desert. They gladly accepted him, and after traveling with them for three days and three nights, he reached a very high mountain. There was clear, sweet, cold water under the mountain, a flat area outside, and a few neglected date palms. Moved by God, Antony loved the place. After receiving bread from those he traveled with, he remained alone on the mountain, feeling that it was his true home from then on. The Saracens, noticing Antony’s readiness, began to come to him, bringing him loaves, and he also enjoyed the small dates. Later on, when the brothers found out where he was, they wanted to send him things, like children remembering their father. Antony saw that some of them were burdened bringing him bread, so he asked a few visitors to bring him a hoe, an ax, and some seeds. After getting these, he examined the land around the mountain, found a small area that was suitable, and cultivated it; he irrigated it with plenty of water and sowed seeds. Year by year, he harvested his bread from that land, glad that he wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. Later, seeing people coming again, he planted a few vegetables so that those who visited could have a little comfort after their hard journey. At first, wild animals came to drink the water and damaged his crops, but he gently caught one of them and said, "Why do you hurt me when I haven’t harmed you? Leave, and in the name of the Lord, never come near this place." From that point on, as if afraid of his command, they stayed away. So he lived alone in the inner mountain, having time for prayer and training. The brothers who cared for him requested to bring him olives, beans, and oil every month, since after all, he was old.

Being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came for him. A camel carried their loaves and their water, for that desert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water except in that mountain where his cell is. But when the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most intense, they all began to be in danger; for finding no water, they could walk no more, but lay down on the ground, and they let the camel go, and gave themselves up. Then the old man, seeing them in danger, was grieved, and departing a little way from them, he bent his knees, and stretching out his hands, he prayed, and forthwith the Lord caused water to come out where he had stopped and prayed. Thus all of them drinking, took breath again; and having filled their skins, they sought the camel, and found her; for it befell that the halter had been twisted round a stone, and thus she had been stopped. So, having brought her back, and given her to drink, they put the skins on her, and went through their journey unharmed. And when they came to the outer cells, all embraced him, looking on him as a father. And there was joy again in the mountains, and comfort through their faith in each other. And he too rejoiced, seeing the willingness of the monks, and his sister grown old in maidenhood, and herself the leader of other virgins. And so, after certain days, he went back again to his own mountain.

Once, the monks asked him to come down and visit them and their places, so he traveled with the monks who had come for him. A camel carried their bread and water, as that desert was completely dry, and drinkable water was only found in the mountain where his cell was. But when they ran out of water during the journey and the heat became intense, they all began to be in danger; with no water to be found, they could walk no more and lay down on the ground, letting the camel go and surrendering themselves. Seeing them in danger, the old man was troubled, so he moved a little away from them, knelt down, and stretched out his hands in prayer. Immediately, the Lord caused water to spring up where he had prayed. After drinking, they regained their strength; they filled their containers and searched for the camel, finally finding her. It turned out that the halter had gotten twisted around a stone, which was why she had stopped. They brought her back, gave her water, loaded her up, and continued their journey safely. When they arrived at the outer cells, everyone embraced him, seeing him as a father. There was joy in the mountains again, and comfort in their faith in one another. He was also pleased to see the eagerness of the monks and his sister, who had grown old in her singlehood and was now a leader of other virgins. After a few days, he returned to his own mountain.

And after that many came to him; and others, who suffered, dared also to come. Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually this command: To trust in the Lord and love Him, and to keep themselves from foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and not to be deceived by fulness of bread; and to avoid vainglory; and to pray continually; and to sing before sleep and after sleep; and to lay by in their hearts the commandments of Scripture; and to remember the works of the Saints, in order to have their souls attuned to emulate them. But especially he counselled them to meditate continually on the Apostle's saying, "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath;" and this he said was spoken of all commandments in common, in order that, not on wrath alone, but on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it was noble and necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a baseness by day, nor the moon for a sin or even a thought by night; therefore, in order that that which is noble may be preserved in us, it was good to hear and to keep what the Apostle commanded: for he said, "Judge yourselves, and prove yourselves." Let each then take account with himself, day by day, of his daily and nightly deeds; and if he has not sinned, let him not boast, but let him endure in what is good and not be negligent, neither condemn his neighbour, neither justify himself until the Lord comes who searches secret things. For we often deceive ourselves in what we do. Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us sympathize with each other; and let us bear each other's burdens, and examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to fill up. And let this, too, be our counsel for safety against sinning. Let us each note and write down the deeds and motions of the soul as if we were about to relate them to another; and be confident that as we shall be utterly ashamed that they should be [Pg 263] known, we shall cease from sinning, and even from desiring anything mean. As therefore, when in each other's sight we dare not commit a crime, so if we write down our thoughts, and confess them, we shall keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they should be known. And thus forming ourselves we shall be able to bring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on the one hand, and on the other trample on the snares of the enemy. This was his exhortation to those who met him: but with those who suffered he suffered, and prayed with them. And those who suffered he exhorted to keep up heart, and to know that the power of cure was none of his, nor of any man's; but only belonged to God, who works when and whatsoever He chooses. So the sufferers received this as a remedy, learning not to despise the old man's words, but rather to keep up heart; and those who were cured, learned not to bless Antony, but God alone.

And after that, many people came to him; and others who were suffering also dared to approach. To all the monks that came to him, he continually gave this advice: to trust in the Lord and love Him, to keep themselves away from bad thoughts and physical pleasures, not to be misled by having too much food, to avoid vanity, to pray without ceasing, to sing before sleep and after waking, to store up the commandments of Scripture in their hearts, and to remember the deeds of the Saints so their souls could strive to imitate them. But especially, he encouraged them to constantly think about the Apostle's saying, "Don’t let the sun go down on your anger;" and he explained that this applied to all commandments, so that the sun should never set on not just anger, but on any other sin as well; it was noble and necessary that the sun should not condemn us during the day for wrongdoing, nor the moon at night for a sin or even a thought. Therefore, to preserve what is noble in us, it was important to hear and follow what the Apostle commanded: "Evaluate yourselves, and test yourselves." Each of us should reflect on our daily and nightly actions; if we haven’t sinned, we shouldn’t boast, but rather persist in what is good and not be careless, nor judge our neighbor, nor justify ourselves until the Lord returns who searches our innermost thoughts. We often deceive ourselves in our actions. So, giving the judgment to Him, let’s support one another; let’s bear each other's burdens and examine ourselves; and for what we are lacking, let’s be eager to improve. Let this be our advice for protecting against sin. Let’s note and write down our actions and feelings as if we were about to share them with someone else; and be sure that, since we would be utterly ashamed for them to be known, we would stop sinning, and even stop desiring anything lowly. Just as we wouldn’t dare commit a crime in front of each other, if we write down our thoughts and confess them, we will keep ourselves further from bad thoughts, out of shame that they might be revealed. In this way, we will be able to control our bodies and please the Lord, while at the same time avoiding the traps of the enemy. This was his encouragement to those who came to him; but with those who suffered, he shared in their pain and prayed with them. He encouraged those who were suffering to stay strong and to understand that the power to heal was not his, nor any man's; it belonged solely to God, who acts when and however He wishes. The suffering people took this as a remedy, learning not to disregard the old man’s words, but rather to stay hopeful; and those who were healed learned to praise God alone, not Antony.

But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on the journey, one of them died, and the other was about to die. In fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground expecting death. But Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two monks who happened to be there, and hastened them, saying, "Take a pitcher of water, and run on the road towards Egypt; for of two who are coming hither one has just expired, and the other will do so if you do not hasten. For this has been showed to me as I prayed." So the monks, going, found the one lying dead, and buried him; and the other they recovered with the water, and brought him to the old man. Now the distance was a day's journey. But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that sitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord showed him things afar off.

But when two brothers were on their way to him and ran out of water during the journey, one of them died, and the other was close to dying. Unable to walk any longer, he lay on the ground waiting for death. But Antony, sitting on the mountain, called over two monks who were nearby and urged them, saying, "Take a pitcher of water and hurry down the road toward Egypt; because out of the two who are coming here, one has just died, and the other will die if you don't hurry. This was revealed to me while I prayed." So the monks went, found the one who was dead, buried him, and revived the other with the water, bringing him to the old man. The distance was a day’s journey. What was remarkable about Antony was that, sitting on the mountain, he kept his heart alert, and the Lord revealed distant events to him.

And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days, or even a month, beforehand, and the [Pg 264] cause why they were coming. For some came only to see him, and others on account of sickness, and all thought the labour of the journey no trouble, for each went back aware that he had been benefited.

And about the people who visited him, he often predicted a few days or even a month in advance why they were coming. Some came just to see him, while others came because they were sick, and everyone thought the journey was worth it since they left feeling like they'd gained something.

But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit! for though he was so great, he wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in honour. For to the bishops and priests he bowed his head; and if a deacon came to him, he discoursed with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him. He often asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present, confessing that he was profited if any one said aught that was useful. Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace; and this gift too he had from the Saviour. For if he was present among the multitude of monks, and any one who did not previously know him wished to see him, as soon as he came, he passed by all the rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by his eyes. He did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the steadiness of his temper, and the purity of his soul; for as his soul was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so that the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful. And he was altogether wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never communicated with the Meletian[67] schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor did he converse amicably with Manichæans or any other heretics, save only to exhort them to be converted to piety. For he held that their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to the soul. So also he detested the heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to approach them, nor hold their misbelief.[68]

But how patient was his temperament, and how humble his spirit! Though he was so great, he wanted to honor every church official before himself. He bowed his head to the bishops and priests, and when a deacon approached him, he discussed what was beneficial with him, but in prayer, he took a back seat. He often asked questions and willingly listened to everyone present, admitting that he learned something useful from what others said. Furthermore, his appearance had great and remarkable grace, a gift he received from the Savior. When he was among a crowd of monks, anyone who didn’t know him before would immediately be drawn to him, as if magnetized by his eyes. He wasn’t different in size or build from the rest, but in the steadiness of his temperament and the purity of his soul; since his soul was calm, his outward senses were calm as well, so the joy in his soul reflected on his face. He was truly remarkable in faith and devoutness, for he never associated with the Meletian schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the start; nor did he engage in friendly conversation with Manichaeans or any other heretics, except to urge them to return to piety. He believed that their friendship and conversations were harmful and destructive to the soul. He also strongly opposed the heresy of the Arians and urged everyone not to approach them or adopt their beliefs.

Being sent for by the bishops and all the brethren, he went down from the mountain, and entering Alexandria, he denounced the Arians, teaching the people that the Son of God was not a created thing, but that He is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Essence of the Father. Wherefore he said, "Do not have any communication with these most impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and darkness. For you are pious Christians: but they, when they say that the Son of God, who is from the Father, is a created being, differ nought from the heathen, because they worship the creature instead of the Creator." All the people therefore rejoiced at hearing that heresy anathematized by such a man; and all those in the city ran together to see Antony; and the Greeks,[69] and those who are called their priests, came into the church, wishing to see the man of God. And many heathens wished to touch the old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in fact as many became Christians in those few days as would have been usually converted in a year. And when some thought that the crowd troubled him, he quietly said that they were not more numerous than the fiends with whom he wrestled on the mountain. But when he left the city, and we were setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate, a certain woman called to him: "Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with running after thee." The old man hearing it, and being asked by us, waited willingly. But when the woman drew near, the child dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on the name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out; and the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself rejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.

Being called by the bishops and all the brethren, he came down from the mountain and entered Alexandria. He condemned the Arians, teaching the people that the Son of God was not a created being, but the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Father. He said, "Do not associate with these most wicked Arians; there’s no connection between light and darkness. You are faithful Christians, but they claim that the Son of God, who is from the Father, is a created being, which makes them no different from pagans, because they worship the creature instead of the Creator." The people rejoiced at hearing such a prominent figure denounce that heresy, and everyone in the city gathered to see Antony. The Greeks, along with their priests, came into the church, eager to meet the man of God. Many pagans wanted to touch the old man, believing it would benefit them, and indeed, more people converted to Christianity in those few days than would typically do so in a year. When some thought the crowd was bothering him, he calmly said that they were not more numerous than the demons he battled on the mountain. But when he left the city and we were seeing him off, we reached the gate, and a woman called out to him: "Wait, man of God, my daughter is severely tormented by a demon; please wait, so I don't harm myself by chasing after you." The old man, upon hearing this and when we asked him to, gladly waited. But when the woman got closer, the child fell to the ground, and when Antony prayed and called on the name of Christ, she stood up healed, the unclean spirit having gone out. The mother praised God, and we all offered thanks: he himself was joyful to leave the city for the mountain, as if returning home.

Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.

Now he was very wise; and what was remarkable, even though he had never learned to read or write, he was a clever and insightful man.

When some philosophers met him in the outer mountain, and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt letters, Antony answered, "Which is first, the sense or the letters? And, which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the letters of the sense?" And when they said that the sense came first, Antony replied, "If then the sense be sound, the letters are not needed." So they went away wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an unlearned man. For though he had lived, and grown old, in the mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and courteous; and his speech was seasoned with the divine salt.

When some philosophers encountered him in the outer mountain and thought they could make fun of him for not knowing how to read, Antony responded, "Which comes first, understanding or letters? And which one causes the other—understanding of letters, or letters of understanding?" When they said understanding comes first, Antony replied, "If understanding is sound, then letters aren’t necessary." So they left, amazed to see so much insight from someone uneducated. Even though he had lived and aged in the mountains, his demeanor was not rough but elegant and polite, and his speech was infused with a divine quality.

The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantine, and his sons, Constantius and Constans, hearing of these things, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to receive an answer from him. But he did not make much of the letters, nor was puffed up by their messages; and he was just the same as he was before the kings wrote to him. And he called his monks and said, "Wonder not if a king writes to us, for he is but a man: but wonder rather that God has written His law to man, and spoken to us by His own Son." So he declined to receive their letters, saying he did not know how to write an answer to such things; but being admonished by the monks that the kings were Christians, and that they must not be scandalized by being despised, he permitted the letters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting them because they worshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their salvation, not to think the present life great, but rather to remember judgment to come; and to know that Christ was the only true and eternal king; and [Pg 267] he begged them to be merciful to men, and to think of justice and the poor. And they, when they received the answer, rejoiced. Thus was he kindly towards all, and all looked on him as their father. He then betook himself again into the inner mountain, and continued his accustomed training. But often, when he was sitting and walking with those who came unto him, he was astounded, as is written in Daniel. And after the space of an hour, he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with him, and they perceived that he had seen some vision. Often he saw in the mountain what was happening in Egypt, and once he told what he had seen, to Serapion the Bishop, who saw him occupied with a vision. For as he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what he saw. Then, after an hour, turning to those who were with him, he fell into a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and bending his knees, remained so a long while; and then the old man rose up and wept. The bystanders, therefore, trembling and altogether terrified, asked him to tell them what had happened, and they tormented him so much, that he was forced to speak. And he groaning greatly—"Ah! my children," he said, "it were better to be dead than to live and behold the things that I have seen shall come to pass." And when they asked him again, he said with tears, that "Wrath will seize on the Church, and she will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no understanding; for I saw the table of the Lord's house, and mules standing all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does when it leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for I heard a voice saying, 'My sanctuary shall be defiled.'"

The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantine, and his sons, Constantius and Constans, hearing about these things, wrote to him like he was a father and asked to receive a reply. But he didn’t pay much attention to the letters, nor did he get puffed up by their messages; he remained the same as he was before the kings contacted him. He called his monks and said, "Don’t be amazed if a king writes to us, for he is just a man: instead, be amazed that God has written His law to man and spoken to us through His own Son." So he chose not to accept their letters, saying he didn’t know how to write an answer to such things; however, after being urged by the monks that the kings were Christians and they shouldn’t be offended by being disregarded, he allowed the letters to be read and wrote a response; accepting them because they worshipped Christ, and advising them, for their salvation, not to view this present life as significant, but rather to remember the judgment to come; and to know that Christ is the only true and eternal king; and he urged them to be merciful to others and to think about justice and the poor. When they received his response, they rejoiced. He was thus kind to all, and everyone regarded him as their father. He then went back to the inner mountain and continued his usual training. Often, while sitting and walking with those who came to him, he was astonished, as recorded in Daniel. After about an hour, he shared what he had experienced with the brethren who were with him, and they realized he had seen some vision. Frequently, he would see what was happening in Egypt from the mountain, and once he told Serapion the Bishop what he had seen, while he was absorbed in a vision. As he sat, he fell into a sort of ecstasy and groaned a lot at what he saw. After an hour, he turned to those with him, trembled, got up and prayed, and kneeling down, remained like that for a long time; then the old man rose up and wept. The onlookers, therefore, trembling and completely terrified, asked him to tell them what had happened, and they pressed him so much that he felt compelled to speak. Groaning deeply, he said, "Ah! my children, it would be better to be dead than to live and see the things I have foreseen come to pass." When they asked him again, he tearfully replied that "Wrath will seize the Church, and she will be given over to people like animals that have no understanding; for I saw the Lord's table, with mules standing all around it in a circle, kicking inward like a herd when it leaps in confusion; and you all noticed how I groaned, for I heard a voice saying, 'My sanctuary shall be defiled.'"

This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the [Pg 268] present inroad of the Arians,[70] and the plunder of the churches, when they carried off the holy vessels by violence, and made the heathen carry them: and when too they forced the heathens from the prisons to join them, and in their presence did on the Holy Table what they would.[71] Then we all perceived that the kicks of those mules foreshadowed to Antony what the Arians are now doing, without understanding, as brute beasts. But when Antony saw this sight, he exhorted those about him, saying, "Lose not heart, children; for as the Lord has been angry, so will He again be appeased, and the Church shall soon receive again her own order and shine forth as she is wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their place, and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious faith speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom. Only defile not yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not of the Apostle, but of their father the devil; barren and irrational like the deeds of those mules."

This is what the old man saw, and after two years came the [Pg 268] recent attack by the Arians,[70] and the looting of the churches, where they violently took the holy vessels and forced the pagans to carry them. They also compelled the pagans from the prisons to join them, and in their presence did whatever they wanted on the Holy Table.[71] Then we all understood that the kicks of those mules foreshadowed to Antony what the Arians are currently doing, acting like mindless beasts. But when Antony witnessed this scene, he encouraged those around him, saying, "Do not lose heart, children; for just as the Lord has been angry, He will also be appeased, and the Church will soon restore her order and shine forth as she usually does. You will see the persecuted returned to their rightful place, and wickedness retreating back into its hideouts, with true faith speaking boldly everywhere and freely. Just don’t associate yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not from the Apostle, but from their father the devil; empty and irrational like the actions of those mules."

All the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain, that they might see him, because it was impossible for them to go in thither to him. And when he declined, they insisted, and even sent to him prisoners under the charge of soldiers, that at least on their account he might come down. So being forced by necessity, and seeing them lamenting, he came to the outer mountain. And his labour this time too was profitable to many, and his coming for their good. To the magistrates, he was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to all things, and to fear God, and to know that with what judgment they judged they should be judged in turn. But he loved best of all his life in the mountain. Once again, when he was compelled in the same way to leave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the soldiers, who entreated him earnestly, [Pg 269] he came down, and having spoken to them somewhat of the things which conduced to salvation, he was pressed also by those who were in need. But being asked by the general to lengthen his stay, he refused, and persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying, "Fishes, if they lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with you lose their strength. As the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must we to the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget what is within."

All the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain so they could see him, as it was impossible for them to go up to him. When he refused, they kept insisting and even sent him prisoners under the guard of soldiers, hoping that at least for their sake he would come down. Pressured by the situation and seeing them in distress, he came to the lower part of the mountain. His effort this time was beneficial to many, and his presence was for their good. He advised the magistrates to prioritize justice above everything else, to fear God, and to remember that they would be judged by the same standards they used to judge others. However, he preferred his life in the mountain the most. Once again, when he was reluctantly compelled to leave by those in need and by the general of the soldiers, who earnestly begged him, [Pg 269] he came down and spoke to them a bit about things that lead to salvation, but he was also urged by those who were in need. When the general requested that he extend his stay, he declined and convinced him with a graceful parable, saying, "Fishes, if they stay too long on dry land, die; similarly, monks who remain with you lose their strength. Just like the fishes hurry back to the sea, we must return to the mountain, or if we linger, we might forget what truly matters."

Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians on account of his affection for those abominable Arians. His cruelty was so great that he even beat nuns, and stripped and scourged monks. Antony sent him a letter to this effect:—"I see wrath coming upon thee. Cease, therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay hold upon thee, for it is near at hand." But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the ground, and spat on it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding them tell Antony, "Since thou carest for monks, I will soon come after thee likewise." And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold on him. For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to the first station from Alexandria, which is called Chæreas's. Both of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the most gentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the place, the horses began playing with each other, as is their wont, and suddenly the more gentle of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and pulled him off with his teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was carried back to the city, and died in three days.

Another general named Balacius harshly persecuted us Christians because he favored those terrible Arians. His cruelty was so extreme that he even beat nuns and stripped and whipped monks. Antony sent him a letter saying: “I see anger coming upon you. Therefore, stop persecuting the Christians, or this wrath will catch up to you, for it is close at hand.” But Balacius, laughing, tossed the letter to the ground and spat on it, insulting those who delivered it, telling them to inform Antony, “Since you care for monks, I will soon come after you as well.” And within five days, the wrath did catch up to him. For both Balacius and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to the first stopping point from Alexandria, called Chæreas’s. They were both riding the gentlest horses in Balacius’s stables. But before they reached the place, the horses began to play with each other, as they often do, and suddenly the gentler of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and threw him off with its teeth, injuring his thigh so badly that he was carried back to the city and died in three days.

But the rest who came to Antony he so instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and blessed those who had retired from this life. And those who had been unjustly used he so protected, that you would think he, and not they, was the sufferer. And he was able to be of use to all; so that many who were serving in the army, and many [Pg 270] wealthy men, laid aside the burdens of life and became thenceforth monks; and altogether he was like a physician given by God to Egypt. For who met him grieving, and did not go away rejoicing? Who came mourning over his dead, and did not forthwith lay aside his grief? Who came wrathful, and was not converted to friendship? What poor man came wearied out, and, when he saw and heard him, did not despise wealth and comfort himself in his poverty? What monk, who had grown remiss, was not strengthened by coming to him? What young man coming to the mountain and looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce pleasure and love temperance? Who came to him tempted by devils, and did not get rest? Who came troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind? For this was the great thing in Antony's asceticism, that (as I have said before), having the gift of discerning spirits, he understood their movements, and knew in what direction each of them turned his endeavours and his attacks. And not only he was not deceived by them himself, but he taught those who were troubled in mind how they might turn aside the plots of devils, teaching them the weakness and the craft of their enemies. How many maidens, too, who had been already betrothed, and only saw Antony from afar, remained unmarried for Christ's sake! Some, too, came from foreign parts to him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from him as from a father. He was visiting, according to his wont, the monks in the outer mountain, and having learned from Providence concerning his own end, he said to the brethren, "This visit to you is my last, and I wonder if we shall see each other again in this life. It is time for me to set sail, for I am near a hundred and five years old." And when they heard that, they wept, and kissed the old man. And he, as if he were setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke joyfully, and exhorted them not to grow [Pg 271] idle in their labours, or cowardly in their training, but to live as those who died daily. And when the brethren tried to force him to stay with them and make his end there, he would not endure it, on many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially on this:—The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of good persons, and especially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them underground, but to lay them upon benches and keep them in their houses;[72] thinking that by this they honour the departed. Now Antony had often asked the bishops to exhort the people about this, and, in like manner, he himself rebuked the laity and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing neither lawful, nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs and prophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very body of our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it to hide it, till He rose the third day. And thus saying, he showed that those broke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even if they were saints; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord's body? Many, then, when they heard him, buried their dead thenceforth underground; and blessed the Lord that they had been taught rightly. Being then aware of this, and afraid lest they should do the same by his body, he hurried himself, and bade farewell to the monks in the outer mountain; and coming to the inner mountain, where he was wont to abide, after a few months he grew sick, and calling those who were by—and there were two of them who had remained there within fifteen years, he said to them, "I indeed go the way of the fathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the Lord. Promise to bury me secretly, so that no one shall know the place, save you alone, for I shall receive my body incorruptible from my Saviour [Pg 272] at the resurrection of the dead. And distribute my garments thus. To Athanasius, the bishop, give one of my sheepskins, and the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown old by me; and to Serapion, the bishop, give the other sheepskin; and do you have the hair-cloth garment. And for the rest, children, farewell, for Antony is going, and is with you no more."

But the others who came to Antony, he guided in such a way that they immediately dropped their lawsuits and honored those who had passed away. He supported those who had been wronged so well that it seemed he was the one who had suffered, not them. He was able to help everyone; many soldiers and wealthy individuals set aside the burdens of life and became monks; overall, he was like a doctor sent by God to Egypt. Who met him in sorrow and didn't leave feeling joyful? Who arrived mourning a loved one and didn't quickly set aside their grief? Who came angry and didn't end up making peace? What poor person felt exhausted, and, upon seeing and hearing him, didn't disregard wealth and find contentment in their poverty? What monk, who had become lazy, wasn't re-energized by visiting him? What young man came to the mountain, saw Antony, and didn't immediately turn away from indulgence and embrace self-control? Who came tempted by demons and didn’t find rest? Who arrived burdened by doubts and didn’t receive peace of mind? The remarkable thing about Antony's asceticism was that, as I mentioned before, he had the gift of discerning spirits; he understood their movements and recognized the direction in which each one aimed its efforts and attacks. Not only was he not deceived by them himself, but he also taught those who were troubled how to avoid the schemes of demons by revealing the weaknesses and tricks of their enemies. Many young women who had already been betrothed, just by seeing Antony from afar, chose to remain unmarried for Christ's sake! Some also traveled from distant lands to see him, and all left benefitting from their encounter, as if returning from a father. He was visiting the monks on the outer mountain when he learned from divine insight about his own end; he told the brothers, "This is my last visit with you, and I wonder if we'll see each other again in this life. It's time for me to depart, for I am nearly a hundred and five years old." When they heard this, they wept and kissed the old man. He, as if leaving a foreign city for his own, spoke joyfully and encouraged them not to become idle in their work or cowardly in their training, but to live as those who die daily. When the brothers tried to urge him to stay with them and pass his final moments there, he wouldn't allow it, as he indicated through his silence, particularly for this reason: The Egyptians typically wrap the bodies of good people, especially holy martyrs, in linen, but rather than burying them underground, they lay them on benches and keep them in their homes, thinking that by doing so they honor the deceased. Antony had often asked the bishops to urge the people against this practice, and he himself reprimanded the laity and frightened the women, saying it was neither permitted nor holy; the bodies of patriarchs and prophets have been preserved in tombs, and even the very body of our Lord was laid in a tomb, covered by a stone until He rose on the third day. By saying this, he showed that those who failed to bury the dead, even saints, violated the law; for what is greater or more sacred than the Lord's body? Many, upon hearing him, began to bury their dead underground from then on, and thanked the Lord for the correct teaching. Knowing this and fearing they might do the same with his body, he hurried to say goodbye to the monks on the outer mountain; and upon returning to the inner mountain, where he usually lived, he grew ill after a few months, and calling for those nearby—two of whom had stayed with him for the last fifteen years—he said, "I am now going the way of the fathers, as it is written; I sense that I am being called by the Lord. Promise me to bury me secretly, so that no one will know where, except you alone, for I will receive my incorruptible body from my Savior at the resurrection of the dead. Distribute my garments like this: give one of my sheepskins to Athanasius, the bishop, and the cloak underneath, which was new when he gave it to me but has grown old with me; give the other sheepskin to Serapion, the bishop; and you take the hair-shirt. And for the rest, my children, farewell, for Antony is leaving and will no longer be with you."

Saying this, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet, and, as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their account (for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed and was gathered to his fathers. And they forthwith, as he had commanded them, preparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one knows to this day where it is hidden, save those two servants only.

Saying this, after they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet, and, as if he saw friends coming to him and felt happy for them (for, as he lay, his face was bright), he passed away and was gathered to his ancestors. They quickly did as he had instructed, preparing the body and wrapping it up, then buried it in the ground: and no one knows to this day where it is hidden, except for those two servants.

In art, S. Antony appears (1), with a hog which has a bell attached to its neck. Sometimes, however, S. Antony holds the bell. He was regarded as the Patron of the Hospitallers; and when ordinances were passed forbidding the poor from allowing their swine to run loose about the streets, as they were often in the way of horses, an exception was made in favour of the pigs of the hospitallers, on consideration of their wearing a bell round their necks. But it is possible that this did not originate the symbol, but that rather, on account of the hog being the symbol of S. Antony, the Antonine Hospitallers were allowed to preserve theirs, and that the hog represents the flesh which S. Antony controlled, and the bell is a common symbol of hermits; (2), he is represented with his peculiar cross. The cross of S. Antony is a crutch, or the Egyptian cross, [Pg 273] like the letter T.

In art, St. Antony is often shown (1) with a pig that has a bell around its neck. Sometimes, though, St. Antony holds the bell himself. He was considered the Patron of the Hospitallers; and when rules were enacted prohibiting the poor from letting their pigs roam freely in the streets, since they often got in the way of horses, an exception was made for the pigs belonging to the hospitallers because they wore bells around their necks. However, it’s possible that this didn’t create the symbol; rather, due to the pig being a symbol of St. Antony, the Antonine Hospitallers were allowed to keep theirs, and the pig represents the flesh that St. Antony controlled, while the bell is a common symbol for hermits; (2) he is depicted with his unique cross. The cross of St. Antony looks like a crutch or the Egyptian cross, resembling the letter T. [Pg 273]

S. SABINE, B. OF PIACENZA.

(end of 4th cent.)

(late 4th century)

[Authorities: Roman Martyrology and the Dialogues of S. Gregory the Great, lib. III., c. 10.]

[Authorities: Roman Martyrology and the Dialogues of St. Gregory the Great, Book III, Chapter 10.]

S. Sabine or Savine, was of Roman origin; he was made Bishop of Piacenza in Italy, and was present at the great Council of Nicæa, and also at that of Aquileija. S. Gregory relates of him, that on one occasion the river Po had overflowed its banks, and was devastating the church lands. Then Sabine said to his deacon, "Go and say to the river, 'The Bishop commands thee to abate thy rage, and return into thy bed.'" But the deacon refused to go, thinking he was sent on a fool's errand. Therefore Sabine said to his notary, "Write on a strip of parchment these words, Sabine, servant of the Lord Jesus Christ to the river Po, greeting:—I command thee, O river, to return into thy bed, and do no more injury to the lands of the church, in the name of Jesus Christ, our common Lord." And when the notary had thus written, the Bishop said, "Go, cast this into the river." And he did so; then the flood abated, and the Po returned within its banks, as aforetime. After having governed his diocese forty-five years, he died on December 11th, and was buried in the church of the Twelve Apostles, but now known as the church of S. Savine, on Jan. 17th.

S. Sabine, or Savine, was of Roman origin; he became the Bishop of Piacenza in Italy and was present at the significant Council of Nicaea and also at the one in Aquileia. S. Gregory recounts that one time the river Po overflowed its banks and was destroying the church lands. Sabine then told his deacon, "Go and tell the river, 'The Bishop commands you to calm down and return to your banks.'" But the deacon refused, thinking it was a pointless task. So Sabine instructed his notary, "Write these words on a piece of parchment: Sabine, servant of the Lord Jesus Christ, to the river Po, greetings:—I command you, O river, to return to your banks and cause no more harm to the church land, in the name of Jesus Christ, our common Lord." After the notary wrote this, the Bishop said, "Go, throw this into the river." He did as instructed; then the flood receded, and the Po returned to its banks as before. After governing his diocese for forty-five years, he died on December 11th and was buried in the church of the Twelve Apostles, now known as the church of S. Savine, on January 17th.

S. MILDGYTHA, V.

(about a.d. 730.)

(about A.D. 730.)

[Mildgytha, Mildwitha, Milgith or Milwith, as she is variously called, is commemorated in the English Kalendars.]

Mildgytha, Mildwitha, Milgith, or Milwith, as she is known in different ways, is recognized in the English calendars.

Nothing more is known of S. Mildgytha than that she [Pg 274] was the youngest sister of S. Mildred and S. Milburgh, and daughter of S. Ermenburga and Merewald, Prince of Mercia, who was the son of the terrible Penda, the great enemy of Christianity in Mid-England. Mildgytha, like her sisters, took the veil, and died a nun at Canterbury.

Nothing more is known about S. Mildgytha than that she [Pg 274] was the youngest sister of S. Mildred and S. Milburgh, and the daughter of S. Ermenburga and Merewald, the Prince of Mercia, who was the son of the infamous Penda, a major opponent of Christianity in Mid-England. Mildgytha, like her sisters, became a nun and died at Canterbury.

The Chair of S. Peter in the Vatican. The Chair of St. Peter in the Vatican.

S. PETER'S COMMISSION...

FOOTNOTES:

[61] Vita, ex duobus veteribus MSS., Bolland. II. p. 83

[61] Life, from two ancient manuscripts, Bolland. II. p. 83

[62] He is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle Egypt, A. D. 251.

[62] He is said to have been born in Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle Egypt, A. D. 251.

[63] Seemingly the Greek language and literature.

[63] Apparently the Greek language and literature.

[64] a.d. 301. Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had been a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius Maximianus; and rose, like him, through the various grades of the army to be co-Emperor of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious persecutor of the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant. Such were the "kings of the world" from whom those old monks fled.

[64] AD 301. Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had started out as a shepherd boy in Illyria, just like his uncle Galerius Valerius Maximianus. He climbed the ranks of the army to become co-Emperor of Rome, ruling over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; he was a fierce persecutor of Christians and a cruel, immoral tyrant. These were the "kings of the world" that those old monks escaped from.

[65] The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile. "Below the cliffs, beside the sea," as one describes them.

[65] The desolate riverbanks at the mouths of the Nile. "At the base of the cliffs, next to the ocean," as one puts it.

[66] Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah, between the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony's monks endure to this day.

[66] Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, located over the Wady el Arabah, between the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony's monks still endure today.

[67] Meletius, Bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism calling itself the "Church of the Martyrs," which refused to communicate with the rest of the Eastern Church.

[67] Meletius, Bishop of Lycopolis, founded a little-known division known as the "Church of the Martyrs," which did not engage with the broader Eastern Church.

[68] Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was Athanasius, the writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of God was not co-equal and co-eternal with the Father, but created by Him out of nothing, and before the world. His opinions were condemned in the famous Council of Nicæa, a.d. 325.

[68] Arius (whose most prominent and successful rival was Athanasius, the author of this biography) argued that the Son of God was not equal or eternal alongside the Father, but rather created by Him from nothing and before the existence of the world. His views were rejected in the well-known Council of Nicæa, AD 325.

[69] I.e. those were still heathens.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ i.e. they were still pagans.

[70] Probably that of a.d. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, nominated by the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of Antioch, expelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great violence was committed by his followers and by Philagrius the Prefect. Athanasius meanwhile fled to Rome.

[70] Probably around A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, appointed by the Arian Bishops who met at the Council of Antioch, removed Athanasius from the position of Bishop of Alexandria, and significant violence was carried out by his supporters and by Philagrius the Prefect. Meanwhile, Athanasius escaped to Rome.

[71] I.e. celebrated there their own Communion.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ celebrated their own Communion there.

[72] Evidently the primæval custom of embalming the dead, and keeping mummies in the house, still lingered among the Egyptians.

[72] Clearly, the ancient practice of embalming the dead and keeping mummies in the home was still present among the Egyptians.


January 18.

S. Peter's Chair, at Rome, a.d. 43.
S. Prisca, V. M., at Rome, about a.d. 50.
SS. Paul and Thirty-Six Companions, MM., in Egypt.
SS. Archelaa, Thecla, and Susanna, V., MM., at Salerno, in Italy, a.d. 285.
S. Volusian, B. C. of Tours, in France, circ. a.d. 400.
SS. Liberata and Faustina, VV., at Como, in Italy, circ. a.d. 580.
S. Leobard, H., Marmoutier, France, circ. a.d. 583.
S. Deicolus, Ab. of Lure, in Burgundy, beginning of 7th cent.
S. Face, C., at Cremona, in Italy, a.d. 1272.

St. Peter's Chair, in Rome, A.D. 43.
St. Prisca, Virgin Martyr, in Rome, around A.D. 50.
St. Paul and Thirty-Six Companions, Martyrs, in Egypt.
St. Archelaa, Thecla, and Susanna, Virgins and Martyrs, in Salerno, Italy, A.D. 285.
St. Volusian, Bishop of Tours, France, around A.D. 400.
St. Liberata and Faustina, Virgins, in Como, Italy, around A.D. 580.
St. Leobard, Abbot, Marmoutier, France, around A.D. 583.
St. Deicolus, Abbot of Lure, Burgundy, early 7th century.
St. Face, Confessor, in Cremona, Italy, A.D. 1272.

S. PETER'S CHAIR.

(a.d. 43.)

(A.D. 43.)

[All ancient Latin Martyrologies. The commemoration having, however, died out, it was restored by Pope Paul IV. The feast of the Chair of S. Peter is found in a copy of the ancient Martyrology, passing under the name of S. Jerome, made in the time of S. Willibrod, in 720.]

[All early Latin Martyrologies. Although the commemoration faded, Pope Paul IV brought it back. The feast of the Chair of S. Peter is found in a version of the ancient Martyrology attributed to S. Jerome, created during the time of S. Willibrod in 720.]

I.

t was an ancient custom observed by churches to keep an annual feast of the consecration of their bishops, and especially of the founding of the episcopate in them. The feast of S. Peter's Chair is the commemoration of the institution of the patriarchal see of Rome by S. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles. "This day," says S. Augustine (Serm. xv. de Sanctis), "has received the name of the Chair from our predecessor, because S. Peter, the first of the Apostles, is said on this to have taken the throne of his episcopate. Rightly, therefore, do the churches venerate the natal day of that chair which the Apostle received for the good of the churches."

It was an old tradition followed by churches to hold an annual celebration for the consecration of their bishops, especially marking the beginning of the episcopate within them. The feast of St. Peter's Chair commemorates the establishment of the patriarchal seat of Rome by St. Peter, the leader of the Apostles. "This day," says St. Augustine (Serm. xv. de Sanctis), "was named the Chair by our predecessor because St. Peter, the first of the Apostles, is said to have taken his episcopal throne on this day. Therefore, it is fitting that the churches honor the birth of that chair which the Apostle received for the benefit of the churches."

The ancient wooden seat of S. Peter is preserved in the Vatican. That S. Peter founded the church at Rome by [Pg 276] his preaching is expressly asserted by Caius, an ecclesiastical writer born about a.d. 202,[73] who relates that he and S. Paul suffered there. The same is affirmed by Dionysius, Bishop of Corinth, in the second age.[74] S. Irenæus, who lived in the same age, calls the Church of Rome "the greatest and most ancient church, founded by the two glorious Apostles, Peter and Paul."[75] Eusebius says, "Peter, that powerful and great Apostle, like a noble commander of God, fortified with divine armour, bore the precious merchandise of the revealed light from the east to those in the west, and came to Rome, announcing the light itself, and salutary doctrine of the soul, the proclamation of the kingdom of God."[76] And he adds that his first epistle was said to have been composed at Rome, and that he shows this fact, by calling the city by an unusual trope, Babylon; thus, "The Church of Babylon, elected together with you, saluteth you." (1 Pet. v. 13.[77])

The ancient wooden chair of St. Peter is kept in the Vatican. Caius, an ecclesiastical writer born around A.D. 202, clearly states that St. Peter established the church in Rome through his preaching, and he mentions that he and St. Paul suffered there. Dionysius, the Bishop of Corinth, confirms the same in the second century. St. Irenaeus, who lived during that time, refers to the Church of Rome as "the greatest and most ancient church, founded by the two glorious Apostles, Peter and Paul." Eusebius states, "Peter, that powerful and great Apostle, like a noble commander of God, equipped with divine armor, carried the precious message of revealed light from the east to those in the west, arriving in Rome to announce the light itself and the life-changing teachings for the soul—the proclamation of the kingdom of God." He also notes that Peter's first letter is believed to have been written in Rome, referring to the city in an unusual way by calling it Babylon; therefore, he writes, "The Church of Babylon, chosen together with you, sends you greetings." (1 Pet. v. 13.)

S. PRISCA, V. M., AT ROME.

(about a.d. 50.)

(around A.D. 50.)

[Roman Martyrology. She is often confounded with S. Priscilla mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, the wife of Aquila, but called Prisca in the second epistle of Paul to Timothy. What adds to the confusion is, that S. Prisca is said in her Acts to have suffered under Claudius, but whether Claudius, who reigned from 41-54, or the second Claudius, who reigned from 263 to 270, is not stated; but it seems probable that it was under the first Claudius.[78] The Acts of S. Prisca are a forgery, and deserve no confidence. The following account is taken from the Martyrologies.]

[Roman Martyrology. She is often mistaken for St. Priscilla, mentioned in the Acts of the Apostles, who was Aquila's wife, but is called Prisca in Paul's second letter to Timothy. The confusion is heightened by the fact that St. Prisca is said to have suffered during Claudius's reign, but it’s unclear if this refers to Claudius who ruled from 41-54 or the second Claudius who ruled from 263 to 270; however, it’s likely it was the first Claudius.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ The Acts of St. Prisca are a forgery and should not be considered reliable. The following account is taken from the Martyrologies.]

S. Prisca, a maiden of consular birth, being accused of Christianity, at the age of thirteen, was ordered by the [Pg 277] Emperor Claudius to sacrifice to idols. On her steadfastly refusing, she was beaten with the hand and cast into prison. On the morrow she was again urged to sacrifice, but when she remained invincible, she was beaten with rods, and then taken back to prison. The third day she was exposed to a lion, which however crouched at her feet, doing her no injury. Then, having been tortured on the little horse, with hooks and pincers, she was led outside of the city, and was decapitated.

S. Prisca, a young girl from a noble family, was accused of being a Christian at the age of thirteen. The Emperor Claudius ordered her to sacrifice to idols. When she firmly refused, she was beaten and thrown into prison. The next day, she was pressured again to sacrifice, but when she remained unyielding, she was beaten with rods and taken back to prison. On the third day, she was thrown to a lion, which just lay down at her feet, causing her no harm. After being tortured on a small horse with hooks and pincers, she was taken outside the city and beheaded.

An eagle is said to have defended her body from dogs, till Christians came and buried it.

An eagle is said to have protected her body from dogs until Christians arrived and buried it.

SS. PAUL AND THIRTY-SIX COMPANIONS, MM. IN EGYPT.

(DATE UNCERTAIN.)

(DATE UNKNOWN.)

[From the ancient Acts in Bollandus and Ruinart.]

[From the ancient Acts in Bollandus and Ruinart.]

In Egypt thirty-seven Christian soldiers entered into a zealous confederacy to spread the Gospel throughout the country. Their leader was one Paul. They divided themselves into four companies. Paul and nine others went eastwards. Recumbus, with eight more, went to the north; Theonas, with the like number, to the south; and Popias, with the remainder, to the west. The Governor of Egypt, alarmed at the report he heard of this confederacy, sent troops to apprehend them, and when they were brought before him he ordered them to instant execution; those who went to the east and south, to be burnt; those who went to the north to be beheaded, and those who travelled west to be crucified. They suffered on the 18th January, [Pg 278] but in what year is not mentioned.

In Egypt, thirty-seven Christian soldiers formed a passionate alliance to spread the Gospel throughout the country. Their leader was a man named Paul. They split into four groups. Paul and nine others headed east. Recumbus, along with eight more, went north; Theonas, with the same number, went south; and Popias, with the rest, went west. The Governor of Egypt, alarmed by reports of this alliance, sent troops to capture them, and when they were brought before him, he ordered their immediate execution. Those who went east and south were to be burned; those who went north were to be beheaded, and those who traveled west were to be crucified. They suffered on January 18, [Pg 278] but the year is not mentioned.

SS. ARCHELAA, THECLA, AND SUSANNA, VV., MM. AT SALERNO.

(about a.d. 285.)

(circa A.D. 285.)

[The Acts of these martyrs constitute the lections for this day in the Salerno Breviary.]

[The stories of these martyrs are the readings for today in the Salerno Breviary.]

Archelaa, a virgin consecrated to God, during the persecution of Diocletian, took refuge with two maidens, Thecla and Susanna, in a private house outside the walls of Nola, in Campania, hoping to remain unnoticed till the storm was passed. But Leontius, Governor of Salerno, having heard that they were Christians, ordered them to be brought before him. Archelaa was exposed to lions, but was unhurt; then the inhuman judge ordered boiling oil and pitch to be poured over her naked body. In her agony, she spread her hands to heaven, and cried: "Look, O Lord, on us, and be mindful of thy servants. Extinguish the fire which consumes me, and cool my tortured body, refreshing me after the wounds the wicked one has dealt me!" Then a sudden sunbeam shot from between the clouds upon her, and a voice was heard, "O Martyr, fear not! A crown is laid up for thee in heaven. Fear not, I am with thee, and I will give thee refreshment and succour." Then Leontius ordered Archelaa, Thecla, and Susanna to have their heads smitten off with the executioner's sword.

Archelaa, a virgin dedicated to God, found shelter with two maidens, Thecla and Susanna, in a private house outside the walls of Nola, in Campania, during the persecution by Diocletian, hoping to stay under the radar until the danger passed. However, Leontius, the Governor of Salerno, learned they were Christians and ordered them to be brought before him. Archelaa was thrown to lions, but remained unharmed; then the cruel judge commanded boiling oil and pitch to be poured over her bare body. In her suffering, she raised her hands to heaven and cried, "Look, O Lord, upon us, and remember your servants. Put out the fire that consumes me, and cool my tortured body, refreshing me after the wounds inflicted by the wicked!" Suddenly, a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and a voice was heard saying, "O Martyr, do not be afraid! A crown is waiting for you in heaven. Do not fear, I am with you, and I will provide you refreshment and support." Then Leontius ordered Archelaa, Thecla, and Susanna to have their heads cut off with the executioner's sword.

S. LEOBARD, H., AT MARMOUTIER.

(about a.d. 583.)

(around A.D. 583.)

[Gallican Martyrologies. Authority: the life of S. Leobard, written by his friend, S. Gregory of Tours.]

[Gallican Martyrologies. Source: the life of St. Leobard, written by his friend, St. Gregory of Tours.]

Leobard was the son of noble parents in Auvergne. [Pg 279] The youth loved study and prayer. On reaching his majority, his father urged him to marry, but the young man, having no wish to take to himself a wife, refused. The father, however, pressed him so strongly, that at last he consented to be betrothed. "Then," says S. Gregory, "the ring, the kiss, and the shoe were given, and the betrothal feast was kept." But Leobard lost his father shortly after, and taking the betrothal gifts, he rode to his brother's house, to make them over to him. He found his brother so drunk that he did not even invite him to stay the night with him, so Leobard tied up his horse, and crept into a hay loft and slept there. But in the middle of the night he woke, and his mind turned to the importance of saving his soul, and of striving to be like Christ. Then he resolved to renounce the world wholly; but first to seek counsel at the tomb of S. Martin at Tours. From Tours he went to Marmoutier, and joined himself to a hermit named Alaric, who spent his time in making parchment and writing out Holy Scripture. Leobard lived in a cave, which he dug out of the rock, enlarging it and improving it as he saw fitting; and here he spent twenty-two years in prayer and study and writing, and in labour with his hands. He was frequently visited by S. Gregory of Tours, who was his personal friend. On a Sunday, being very ill, he said to him who ministered to him in his sickness, "Prepare me some food." "It is ready, sir," answered the servant shortly after. "Go forth," said the hermit, "and see if the people are returning from mass." And this he said because he knew that his hour was come, and he desired to be alone with God when he migrated. So the servant went out and looked towards the church, and waited, and presently he returned to say that he saw the congregation drifting homewards, then he saw his master lying dead upon the ground, [Pg 280] and he, too, was going home.

Leobard was the son of noble parents in Auvergne. [Pg 279] The young man loved studying and praying. Once he came of age, his father urged him to marry, but Leobard, not wanting a wife, refused. However, his father insisted so much that he eventually agreed to be engaged. "Then," says St. Gregory, "the ring, the kiss, and the shoe were given, and the engagement feast was held." Unfortunately, Leobard lost his father shortly after, and taking the engagement gifts, he went to his brother's house to give them to him. He found his brother so drunk that he didn’t even invite him to stay the night, so Leobard tied up his horse and sneaked into a hayloft to sleep. In the middle of the night, he woke up, reflecting on the importance of saving his soul and striving to be like Christ. He then decided to completely renounce the world, but first wanted to seek guidance at the tomb of St. Martin in Tours. After visiting Tours, he went to Marmoutier and joined a hermit named Alaric, who spent his time making parchment and writing Holy Scripture. Leobard lived in a cave he carved out of the rock, improving it as needed; here he spent twenty-two years in prayer, study, writing, and manual labor. He was frequently visited by St. Gregory of Tours, who was his personal friend. One Sunday, feeling very ill, he said to his attendant, "Prepare me some food." "It’s ready, sir," the servant replied shortly after. "Go outside," said the hermit, "and see if the people are coming back from mass." He said this because he sensed his time was near, and he wanted to be alone with God when he passed. The servant went out, looked toward the church, waited, and eventually returned to say he saw the congregation heading home, only to find his master lying dead on the ground, and he, too, was going home. [Pg 280]

S. DEICOLUS, AB. OF LURE.

(beginning of 7th cent.)

(early 7th century)

[Deicolus, in Irish Deichul, in French Déel, Dèlé, Dielf, Dieu, or Diel, is commemorated on this day in the Roman Martyrology and in the Anglican Kalendars. His translation is observed on Feb. 15th or Nov. 21st. His life was written by an anonymous author about the year 700.]

Deicolus, called Deichul in Irish, Déel, Dèlé, Dielf, Dieu, or Diel in French, is honored today in the Roman Martyrology and Anglican calendars. His feast day is celebrated on February 15th or November 21st. An unknown author wrote about his life around the year 700.

Deicolus quitted Ireland, his native country, with S. Columbanus, and lived with him, first in the kingdom of the East Angles, and afterwards at Luxeuil, the great monastery he founded in France. When S. Columbanus was expelled by the fierce Queen Brunehaut and her son Thierri, King of Burgundy, Deicolus followed him, but his strength failing him, he was unable to continue in the companionship of the energetic and active Columbanus; therefore, falling at the feet of his superior, he besought his permission to retire to some solitude where he could serve God in tranquillity. Then Columbanus, compassionating the exhaustion of his companion, said in a fatherly tone, "God Almighty, out of love to whom thou didst leave thy country, and hast ever obeyed me, make us together to rejoice in the presence of His Majesty." And when they had long clasped each other, and had shed many tears, then the abbot blessed his follower with these words, "The Lord give thee blessing out of Zion, and make thee to see Jerusalem in prosperity all thy life long." Then he hastily tore himself away weeping, and Deicolus remained alone in Burgundy. And after he had knelt down and commended himself to God, he turned and went through the wild tangled thicket and waste lands, seeking where he might settle. But the country was a wilderness without habitation. Then, by chance, he lighted on a swineherd, who was feeding pigs on acorns in the forest; who was much surprised to see a stranger. But Deicolus said, [Pg 281] "Fear not, my brother, I am a monk. And now I beseech thee, show me a commodious spot where I may settle." Then the swineherd mused and said, "There is no such place in this wilderness, save a little lake we call Luthra, with fresh springs." And when Deicolus urged him to conduct him thither, the swineherd said, "I cannot do so, for I shall lose my hogs if I leave them without a keeper." But Deicolus took his staff, and planted it in the ground, and said, "Be without fear, my staff shall be thy substitute, and the swine will not stray till thou returnest." Then the pigwarden believed the word of the man of God, and he left his swine, and guided Deicolus to the place called Luthra; and there was a little chapel, dedicated to S. Martin, built by a gentleman named Weifhardt, where service was occasionally performed by his chaplain.[79]

Deicolus left Ireland, his home country, with St. Columbanus, and first lived with him in the kingdom of the East Angles, then at Luxeuil, the big monastery he established in France. When St. Columbanus was driven out by the fierce Queen Brunehaut and her son Thierri, King of Burgundy, Deicolus followed him. However, he became too weak to keep up with the energetic Columbanus, so he fell at his superior's feet and asked for permission to retreat to a quiet place where he could serve God in peace. Columbanus, feeling compassion for his exhausted companion, said kindly, "May God Almighty, for the love you showed in leaving your country and always obeying me, let us rejoice together in His presence." After they embraced for a long time and shed many tears, the abbot blessed him, saying, "The Lord bless you from Zion and let you see Jerusalem prosper all your life." Then he quickly pulled away, crying, while Deicolus remained alone in Burgundy. After kneeling and commending himself to God, he wandered through the wild, tangled thicket and desolate lands, searching for a place to settle. But the land was empty. By chance, he came across a swineherd, who was feeding pigs acorns in the forest and was surprised to see a stranger. Deicolus said, "Don't be afraid, my brother, I am a monk. Please show me a suitable spot where I can settle." The swineherd thought for a moment and replied, "There’s no such place in this wilderness, except for a small lake we call Luthra, with fresh springs." When Deicolus asked him to take him there, the swineherd said, "I can't leave; I would lose my pigs if I leave them without a keeper." But Deicolus planted his staff in the ground and said, "Don't worry, my staff will be your stand-in, and the pigs won’t wander off until you return." The pigwarden trusted the word of the man of God, left his swine, and led Deicolus to the spot known as Luthra, where there was a small chapel dedicated to St. Martin, built by a man named Weifhardt, where services were occasionally held by his chaplain.[Pg 281]

Now Deicolus was pleased with the place, and he dwelt in the forest, and every day he visited the little chapel and opened the door and went in, and there he prayed. But the priest who served that chapel was very wroth, and he spoke to the people, saying, "There is a man, a sort of hermit, who haunts the woods, and he intrudes on this chapel, and uses it, as if it were his own private property. If he be caught here by me, I swear that I will beat him well."

Now Deicolus was happy with the place, and he lived in the forest. Every day, he went to the little chapel, opened the door, went inside, and prayed. But the priest who took care of that chapel was very angry. He spoke to the people, saying, "There’s a man, a kind of hermit, who hangs out in the woods and keeps coming into this chapel, treating it like it's his own personal property. If I catch him here, I swear I'll give him a good beating."

Then the people choked the windows and door with brambles and thorns, to prevent the ingress of the hermit. Nevertheless, regardless of the impediment, he came as usual. So the priest complained to Weifhardt, who flew into a rage, and ordered his servants to scour the woods for Deicolus, and when they had caught him, savagely to maltreat him. All which they obeyed. But shortly after, the gentleman fell sick of a most painful disorder, and when his wife, Berthilda, thought that he must die, she considered that perhaps [Pg 282] the disease was sent in punishment for the injury done to the hermit. Therefore she bade her servants find him and bring to the sick-bed. Now when Deicolus heard that Weifhardt was grievously tormented, mindful of the command of Christ, to return good for evil, he hasted and went to the castle of the gentleman, and entered the room. And as the day was hot, and he had walked fast, he plucked off his mantle, for he was heated. Then the servants ran to take it from him, but Deicolus exclaimed, "On him who serves God the elements attend, and he needeth not the assistance of man." Then, seeing a sunbeam shot through the window, he cast his mantle upon it, and it rested on the sunbeam.[80]

Then the people blocked the windows and door with brambles and thorns to keep the hermit from getting in. Still, despite the obstacles, he showed up as usual. So the priest complained to Weifhardt, who got really angry and ordered his servants to search the woods for Deicolus and to treat him brutally when they found him. They did as they were told. But not long after, the gentleman fell seriously ill with a very painful disease, and when his wife, Berthilda, thought he might die, she considered that maybe the illness was a punishment for the harm done to the hermit. So she instructed her servants to find him and bring him to the sickroom. When Deicolus heard that Weifhardt was suffering greatly, remembering Christ’s command to repay good for evil, he hurried to the gentleman’s castle and entered the room. Since it was a hot day and he had walked quickly, he took off his cloak because he was warm. The servants rushed to take it from him, but Deicolus said, "The elements serve those who serve God, and he doesn't need help from man." Then, noticing a sunbeam shining through the window, he laid his cloak on it, and it rested on the sunbeam.[80]

And when he had prayed, the Lord healed the gentleman; and Berthilda gave Deicolus the farm of Luthra, and the little chapel, and the wood adjoining. Then the hermit walked round the land given him, and he rejoiced and cried, "This shall be thy rest for ever; here shalt thou dwell, for thou hast a delight therein."

And after he prayed, the Lord healed the man; and Berthilda gave Deicolus the Luthra farm, along with the little chapel and the nearby woods. Then the hermit walked around the land that had been given to him, and he rejoiced and said, "This will be your rest forever; here you will live, for you will find joy in it."

Now it happened one day, as he sat reading in his cell, that King Clothaire II. was hunting in the forest, and his dogs pursued a wild boar, and when the beast was hard pressed, it rushed into the oratory of Deicolus, covered with foam. Thereupon the hermit extended his hand, and laid it on the boar, and said, "Believe me, because thou hast taken refuge in the love of the brethren, thy life shall be spared to-day." Then the hunters came up, with the hounds, and they found the boar lying panting before the altar, and the man of God standing at the door to protect the beast. So the King asked Deicolus who he was, and whence he came, and when the hermit had told him that he was the disciple of Columbanus, who had promised to him in old times that he should reign over three kingdoms, which now had come to pass, he gave to Deicolus the game in the wood and the fish in the waters, and some vineyards. So Deicolus gathered brethren, and built a monastery. And after a time the abbot Deicolus became desirous of visiting Rome, so he went with some of his brethren, and obtained a charter from the Pope, conferring privileges on his monastery. After his return he remained some years governing his monks, ever cheerful and of amiable disposition; the joy and peace of his soul beamed in his countenance. S. Columbanus once said to him in his youth, "Deicolus, why art thou always smiling?" He answered in simplicity, "Because no one can take my God from me."

One day, as he was reading in his cell, King Clothaire II was out hunting in the forest when his dogs chased a wild boar. As the boar was cornered, it ran into Deicolus’ chapel, panting heavily. The hermit reached out his hand, touched the boar, and said, “Trust me, because you’ve sought refuge in the love of the brethren, your life will be spared today.” Soon, the hunters arrived with their hounds, finding the boar resting before the altar, while the holy man stood at the door to protect it. The King asked Deicolus who he was and where he came from. When the hermit shared that he was a disciple of Columbanus, who had once foretold that he would rule over three kingdoms, which had now come true, the King granted Deicolus the animals in the woods, the fish in the waters, and some vineyards. Deicolus gathered some brothers and built a monastery. Later on, Abbot Deicolus wanted to visit Rome, so he traveled there with some of his brethren and received a charter from the Pope, granting privileges to his monastery. After returning, he spent several years leading his monks, always cheerful and kind-hearted; the joy and peace of his soul shone on his face. S. Columbanus once asked him in his younger days, “Deicolus, why are you always smiling?” He simply replied, “Because no one can take my God from me.”

The year of his death is not known with certainty. It was on the 18th January that he heard God's call to depart. Then he took the Holy Sacrament, and after having communicated himself, he kissed all the brethren, and when he had kissed the last he fell asleep.

The exact year of his death isn’t definitely known. On January 18th, he heard God’s call to leave. He then took the Holy Sacrament, and after receiving it, he kissed all the brothers. After he kissed the last one, he fell asleep.

Baptism and Confirmation Baptism and Confirmation, from a painting found in the Catacombs.

FOOTNOTES:

[73] Euseb. Hist. Eccl., lib. II. c. 25.

[73] Euseb. Hist. Eccl., book II, chapter 25.

[74] Euseb. lib. II. c. 25.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Euseb. vol. II, ch. 25.

[75] Lib. III. c. 3.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Book III, Chapter 3.

[76] Euseb. lib. II. c. 14.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Euseb. bk II, ch 14.

[77] Ibid. c. 15.

Ibid. c. 15.

[78] That Claudius I. did persecute the Church appears from Acts xviii. 2. Why Alban Butler should give S. Prisca the date 275, after the death of the second Claudius, when all notices of her are unanimous in saying she suffered under Claudius I., I am at a loss to conjecture.

[78] It's clear that Claudius I persecuted the Church, as shown in Acts xviii. 2. I'm puzzled as to why Alban Butler assigns St. Prisca the year 275, after the death of the second Claudius, when all mentions of her consistently state she suffered under Claudius I.

[79] Lure is in the diocese of Besançon, among the Vosges mountains, between Vesoul and Belfort.

[79] Lure is located in the diocese of Besançon, in the Vosges mountains, situated between Vesoul and Belfort.

[80] A similar story is told of S. Goar (July 6th), S. Florence (Nov. 7th), S. Amabilis (Oct. 19th), S. Cuthman (Feb. 8th), S. David, abbot in Sweden (July 15th), S. Hildevert, B. of Meaux (May 27th), S. Robert of Chaise-Dieu, S. Cunegunda, S. Odo of Urgel, S. Leonore, S. Lucarus of Brixen, S. Bridget, B. Utho of Metten, and the Blessed Alruna of Altaich. I give it for what it is worth. The story is traditional, not having been consigned to writing for a hundred years after the death of S. Deicolus.

[80] A similar story is shared about St. Goar (July 6th), St. Florence (Nov. 7th), St. Amabilis (Oct. 19th), St. Cuthman (Feb. 8th), St. David, abbot in Sweden (July 15th), St. Hildevert, Bishop of Meaux (May 27th), St. Robert of Chaise-Dieu, St. Cunegunda, St. Odo of Urgel, St. Leonore, St. Lucarus of Brixen, St. Bridget, St. Utho of Metten, and Blessed Alruna of Altaich. I share it for what it's worth. The story is traditional, having not been written down for a hundred years after the death of St. Deicolus.


January 19.

S. Germanicus, M., at Smyrna, in Asia Minor, a.d. 161.
SS. Maris, Martha, Audifax, and Habakkuk, MM., near Rome, a.d. 270.
S. Bassian, B. of Lodi, in Italy, circ. a.d. 409.
S. Catellus, B. of Castellamare, in Italy, a.d. 617.
S. Launomar, P., Ab. of Corbion, in France, a.d. 593.
S. Remigius, B. of Rouen, circ. a.d. 771.
SS. Blaithmaic, Ab., and Companions, Monks and MM., at Iona, in
Scotland
, a.d. 824.
S. Canute, K. M., in Denmark, a.d. 1086. See July 10.
S. Wulstan, B. of Worcester, a.d. 1095.
S. Henry, B. M., at Upsala, in Sweden, a.d. 1150.

S. Germanicus, M., in Smyrna, Asia Minor, A.D. 161.
SS. Maris, Martha, Audifax, and Habakkuk, Martyrs, near Rome, A.D. 270.
S. Bassian, Bishop of Lodi, Italy, around A.D. 409.
S. Catellus, Bishop of Castellamare, Italy, A.D. 617.
S. Launomar, Priest, Abbot of Corbion, France, A.D. 593.
S. Remigius, Bishop of Rouen, around A.D. 771.
SS. Blaithmaic, Abbot, and Companions, Monks and Martyrs, at Iona, in
Scotland
, A.D. 824.
S. Canute, King and Martyr, in Denmark, A.D. 1086. See July 10.
S. Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester, A.D. 1095.
S. Henry, Bishop and Martyr, in Upsala, Sweden, A.D. 1150.

S. GERMANICUS, M.

(a.d. 161.)

(A.D. 161.)

[Roman Martyrology, and those of Usuardus, Ado, Notker and that attributed to Bede, also the later ones of Maurolycus, Bellinus and Galesinius, sometimes also on Feb. 18. Authority, the contemporary Epistle of the Church of Smyrna to the Church of Pontus, describing the martyrdom of SS. Germanicus, Polycarp, and others; quoted by Eusebius, lib. IV. c. 15.]

The Roman Martyrology, along with those by Usuardus, Ado, Notker, and the one attributed to Bede, as well as later ones by Maurolycus, Bellinus, and Galesinius, are sometimes mentioned on February 18. The source is the contemporary letter from the Church of Smyrna to the Church of Pontus, which details the martyrdom of Saints Germanicus, Polycarp, and others; quoted by Eusebius in book IV, chapter 15.

T.

he Epistle of the Church of Smyrna, narrating its sufferings under the Emperors Marcus Antoninus and Lucius Aurelius, says:—"Germanicus, a noble youth, was particularly pre-eminent as a martyr, for, strengthened by divine grace, he overcame the natural dread of death implanted in us; although the pro-consul was desirous of persuading him, and urged him from consideration of his youth, that, as he was so young and blooming, he should take compassion on himself. He, however, hesitated not, but eagerly irritated the wild beast let loose upon him, that he might be the sooner freed from this unjust and lawless generation."

The Epistle of the Church of Smyrna, detailing its struggles under the Emperors Marcus Antoninus and Lucius Aurelius, states:—“Germanicus, a noble young man, stood out as a martyr because, empowered by divine grace, he conquered the natural fear of death that we all have. Even though the pro-consul tried to persuade him, reminding him of his youth and urging him to show himself some compassion since he was so young and vibrant, he didn’t hesitate. Instead, he eagerly provoked the wild beast unleashed on him, seeking to be free from this unjust and lawless generation more quickly.”

The Acts of this martyr have been lost.

The accounts of this martyr's actions have been lost.

SS. MARIS, MARTHA, AUDIFAX AND HABAKKUK, MM.

(a.d. 270.)

(A.D. 270.)

[Modern Roman Martyrology, but the ancient Roman Martyrology commemorated them on Jan. 20th, so did that attributed to S. Jerome, and many others. Authority, the authentic Acts.]

[Modern Roman Martyrology, but the ancient Roman Martyrology remembered them on January 20th, as did the version attributed to St. Jerome, along with many others. Authority, the true Acts.]

In the time of the Emperor Claudius II., there came a man from Persia, named Maris, with his wife Martha, and his two sons, Audifax and Habakkuk, to Rome, where they sought out the Christians who were in prison, and ministered to them.

In the time of Emperor Claudius II, a man named Maris came from Persia with his wife Martha and their two sons, Audifax and Habakkuk, to Rome, where they looked for the Christians in prison and helped them.

At this time Claudius had given orders for the suppression of Christianity. Two hundred and sixty Christians were condemned to work in the sand-pits on the Salarian way; but were afterwards brought into the amphitheatre, and were killed with arrows, and their bodies thrown on a pyre. Maris and his sons withdrew the bodies from the fire, and with the assistance of a priest, named John, they buried many of them in the catacomb on the Salarian way. And in the evening, passing under a house, they heard singing, and they knew that what they heard was a Christian canticle. Then they struck at the door, and those who were within feared to open, thinking it was the soldiers come to take them; but the bishop, who was with the congregation, went boldly to the door and opened it; then they knew that these were Christians who stood without; so they fell on their necks and kissed them.

At this time, Claudius had ordered the suppression of Christianity. Two hundred sixty Christians were sentenced to work in the sand pits along the Salarian way; but later, they were brought to the amphitheater, killed with arrows, and their bodies were thrown onto a pyre. Maris and his sons removed the bodies from the fire, and with the help of a priest named John, they buried many of them in the catacomb on the Salarian way. Later in the evening, as they passed under a house, they heard singing and recognized it as a Christian hymn. They knocked on the door, and those inside were afraid to open, thinking it was soldiers come to arrest them; but the bishop, who was with the congregation, bravely went to the door and opened it. Then they realized that the ones outside were Christians, so they embraced them and kissed them.

Now it fell out that Maris and his wife and sons were in the house of Asterius, a new convert, on a certain occasion, with Valentine the priest, when the soldiers entered the house and took all within before the Emperor, who remanded them to Muscianus, the prefect, to be by him [Pg 286] sentenced according to their deserts.

Now it happened that Maris, his wife, and their sons were at the house of Asterius, a new convert, on a certain occasion, with Valentine the priest, when soldiers entered the house and took everyone there before the Emperor, who sent them to Muscianus, the prefect, to be sentenced according to their actions. [Pg 286]

Muscianus ordered Maris and his two sons to be beaten, and then to be placed on the little horse and tortured with iron hooks and lighted torches, but Martha to stand by, and see her husband and children tormented. As they remained constant, he commanded their hands to be struck off. Then Martha stooped and dipped her finger in their blood, and signed her brow therewith. Exasperated to the last degree, the judge ordered Maris and the two sons to be decapitated in a sand-pit, and Martha to be drowned in a well, all which was carried into execution.[81] A pious matron, named Felicitas, rescued the bodies, and buried them in her farm.

Muscianus ordered that Maris and his two sons be beaten and then placed on the small horse and tortured with iron hooks and lit torches, while Martha had to stand by and watch her husband and children being tormented. When they remained steadfast, he commanded that their hands be cut off. Then Martha bent down, dipped her finger in their blood, and marked her forehead with it. Furious beyond measure, the judge ordered Maris and the two sons to be executed in a sand pit, and Martha to be drowned in a well, which was all carried out. [81] A devout woman named Felicitas rescued the bodies and buried them on her land.

S. BASSIAN, B. OF LODI.

(about a.d. 409.)

(around A.D. 409.)

[Roman and many other Martyrologies. Double feast with octave at Lodi. Authorities, his life by an anonymous author, of uncertain date, also the lections for this day in the Lodi Breviary. S. Ambrose, in his 60th letter, speaks of S. Bassian.]

[Roman and several other Martyrologies. Double feast with octave in Lodi. Sources include his life written by an anonymous author, date unknown, along with today's readings in the Lodi Breviary. St. Ambrose mentions St. Bassian in his 60th letter.]

Bassian was the son of Sergius, præfect of Syracuse, a heathen. As a child he is said to have scrawled the sign of the cross in the dust, and was rebuked for so doing by his nurse. This set him wondering, and his mind turned to the religion of the Crucified, so that when sent to Rome, at the age of twelve, to be educated in the liberal arts, he sought out those who reverenced that sign which his nurse had forbidden him to scribble. A priest, named Gordian, instructed the lad in the Christian faith, and finally baptized him. As soon as his father heard of his conversion, he sent orders to have him brought home at once. Then Bassian, [Pg 287] fearing the result, should he be re-conducted to Syracuse, ran away to Ravenna. On his way occurred one of those simple and touching incidents which abound in the lives of the saints, and which in spite of repetition, must be related. A stag with her two fawns bounded into the road, the hunters were in pursuit, the stag was not willing to desert her little ones, and they were too young to make good their escape. Seeing the distress of the mother, Bassian called to her, and she came to him with her fawns, and licked his feet, as he caressed her dappled hide. Soon after the hunters came up, and one more impetuous than the rest, attempted to take the stag. Then Bassian threw his arms round her neck, and called on God to protect her. Instantly the man, whose anger had flamed up at the resistance offered him, fell in an apoplectic fit; and when he recovered, withdrew in fear, without injuring the stag.

Bassian was the son of Sergius, the prefect of Syracuse, who was a pagan. As a child, he is said to have drawn the sign of the cross in the dust, and his nurse scolded him for it. This made him curious, and he began to think about the faith of the Crucified. When he was sent to Rome at the age of twelve to study the liberal arts, he sought out those who honored the sign his nurse had told him not to draw. A priest named Gordian taught him about the Christian faith, and eventually baptized him. When Bassian's father found out about his conversion, he ordered that Bassian be brought home immediately. Fearing the consequences of returning to Syracuse, Bassian ran away to Ravenna. On his journey, something simple and touching happened, a story often found in the lives of saints that deserves to be told despite its familiarity. A doe with her two fawns jumped onto the road; hunters were chasing them, and the doe was unwilling to leave her young ones, who were too small to escape. Seeing the mother in distress, Bassian called to her, and she approached him with her fawns, licking his feet as he stroked her spotted coat. Shortly after, the hunters arrived, and one, more aggressive than the others, tried to capture the doe. Bassian wrapped his arms around her neck and prayed to God for her protection. Instantly, the man, whose anger flared at her resistance, collapsed in a fit. When he came to, he left in fear, without harming the doe.

In the reign of Valerian, Bassian was elected Bishop of Lodi, and ruled the diocese with zeal and discretion. He built in his Cathedral city the church of the Twelve Apostles, and S. Ambrose assisted in its dedication. Bassian was with S. Ambrose when he died.

During Valerian's reign, Bassian was chosen as the Bishop of Lodi and led the diocese with passion and good judgment. He constructed the church of the Twelve Apostles in his Cathedral city, with S. Ambrose helping to dedicate it. Bassian was with S. Ambrose at the time of his death.

S. LAUNOMAR, AB. OF CORBION.

(a.d. 593.)

(A.D. 593.)

[S. Launomar, called in French Laumer or Lomer, is commemorated in the Gallican Martyrologies. His life was written by one who apparently knew him, as we may conclude from certain passages therein.]

S. Launomar, referred to in French as Laumer or Lomer, is commemorated in the Gallican Martyrologies. His life was documented by someone who probably knew him, as indicated by certain passages in the text.

S. Laumer as a boy kept his father's sheep near Chartres; afterwards, having learned his letters, he heard the call of God, and gave himself up to his service. He was ordained priest, and entering a monastery, was appointed steward. However, such a life did not suit him, and he retired into the forest, escaping from the monastery one stormy night, [Pg 288] when all the brethren were asleep, taking in his hand nothing save his staff. He took refuge in the depths of the forest, where he hoped none would find him, but his sanctity becoming known, disciples flocked to him. Two miracles occur in his forest life very similar to those related of other saints. One night as he prayed, the Prince of the power of the Air, hoping to frighten him, by leaving him in the dark, thrice extinguished his light, and thrice was it rekindled. One day he saw a hind pursued by wolves, he ordered the wolves to desist from pursuing the poor animal, which came and crouched at his feet, whilst he patted it. Then he gave the hind his blessing and dismissed it. When the number of his disciples increased, so that he felt his solitude dissolved, Laumer fled away again, and hid himself in the wood, where afterwards rose the monastery of Corbion, near Dreux. But a city set on a hill cannot be hid, his cell of green leaves and wattles soon became the centre of a colony of monks, and a nobleman whose land this was, gave it to him, that he might build thereon a monastery. One instance of the gentleness of S. Laumer deserves not to be passed over. During the night, some robbers stole a cow belonging to the monks. The brethren were in despair. The robbers however, had lost their way in the tangled forest, as they drove the cow away, and they wandered all night and the next day, unable to discover the road; when, as evening settled in, they saw the forest lighten, and they came out, driving the cow, upon the clearing of the monastery, and S. Laumer himself stood before them. They at once fell at his feet, asking his pardon, and imploring him to direct them aright; but he raised them, and said, "I thank you, kind friends, for finding and bringing back to me my strayed cow; you must be very tired and hungry, follow me." Then he led them into his hut, and set before them such things as he had, and they ate and were refreshed, and he [Pg 289] set them on their right road, but of course, without the cow.

S. Laumer, as a boy, tended his father's sheep near Chartres. After he learned to read and write, he felt a calling from God and dedicated himself to His service. He was ordained as a priest and, upon entering a monastery, was made steward. However, he found this life unfulfilling, so one stormy night, when all the other monks were asleep, he escaped into the forest with nothing but his staff. He sought refuge deep in the woods, hoping to remain hidden, but his holiness became known, and disciples began to gather around him. Two miracles from his time in the forest were similar to those of other saints. One night, while he was praying, the Prince of the Power of the Air tried to scare him by plunging him into darkness, extinguishing his light three times, but each time it was reignited. On another day, he saw a deer being chased by wolves. He commanded the wolves to stop pursuing the frightened animal, which then came over and crouched at his feet as he petted it. After giving the deer his blessing, he let it go. As Laumer's followers multiplied, he began to feel overwhelmed by the loss of his solitude, so he fled again and hid deeper in the woods, where the monastery of Corbion would later be established near Dreux. But like a city on a hill, his retreat in the greenery soon became a hub for a colony of monks. A local nobleman, whose land it was, granted it to Laumer to build a monastery. One notable instance of S. Laumer's kindness should not be overlooked. One night, robbers stole a cow from the monks, leaving them distraught. However, the robbers became lost in the dense forest as they drove the cow away, wandering all night and the following day without finding their way. As evening came, they saw a breakthrough of light in the forest and stumbled upon the monastery clearing, where S. Laumer himself stood before them. They immediately fell at his feet, begging for forgiveness and asking him to guide them home. Laumer helped them up and said, "Thank you, kind friends, for returning my lost cow. You must be very tired and hungry, so please follow me." He took them to his hut and offered them whatever food he had, and they ate and felt rejuvenated. He then put them on the right path, though, of course, without the cow.

SS. BLAITHMAC AND COMP. MONKS, M.M.

(a.d. 824)

(A.D. 824)

[Irish Martyrologies. Authority:—The Acts of S. Blaithmac written in verse by his contemporary Walafrid Strabo, and the Irish Annals.]

[Irish Martyrologies. Source:—The Acts of St. Blaithmac written in verse by his contemporary Walafrid Strabo, and the Irish Annals.]

S. Blaithmac was a native of Ireland, son of Flann, perhaps one of the southern Niells, princes of Meath, the names of Flann and Blaithmac having been common in that family. He was heir to a principality, but he abandoned his prospects in this world to become a monk, and afterwards an abbot. Blaithmac had an ardent desire to visit foreign parts, but he was prevented by his friends and companions from leaving Ireland. At length he passed over to Iona, which was shortly after invaded by a party of Northmen. As he was anxious to receive the crown of martyrdom, he determined to remain there whatever might happen, and by his example induced some others to stay with him, advising those who feared death to take refuge on the mainland. While he was celebrating mass the Danes burst into the church, and having slaughtered the monks, demanded of the abbot where was the precious shrine of S. Columba. This had been carried off and concealed underground, where the abbot knew not. Accordingly he answered that he was ignorant where it was, and added that even if he had known, he would not have pointed out the spot to them. They then put him to death. The Ulster Annals give his martyrdom in 825-828. The Irish annals generally agree in fixing his death at 823 (a.d. 824). Mabillon was wrong in supposing it took place in 793. Blaithmac is derived from Blaith, a [Pg 290] flower; hence his latinized name is Florigenius or Florus.

S. Blaithmac was from Ireland, the son of Flann, who was possibly one of the southern Niells, princes of Meath. The names Flann and Blaithmac were common in that family. He was next in line for a princely title, but he gave up his worldly prospects to become a monk, eventually becoming an abbot. Blaithmac had a strong desire to travel abroad, but his friends and companions prevented him from leaving Ireland. Eventually, he went to Iona, which was soon invaded by a group of Northmen. Eager to attain martyrdom, he decided to stay there no matter what happened and encouraged some others to remain with him, advising those who were afraid of death to flee to the mainland. While he was celebrating mass, the Danes stormed the church, killed the monks, and asked the abbot where the precious shrine of S. Columba was. This shrine had been taken and hidden underground, and the abbot did not know where it was. So he replied that he didn't know its location, adding that even if he did, he wouldn’t tell them. They then executed him. The Ulster Annals record his martyrdom between 825-828. Most Irish annals agree that he died in 823 (A.D. 824). Mabillon was mistaken in thinking it happened in 793. Blaithmac comes from Blaith, a flower; thus, his Latinized name is Florigenius or Florus.

S. WULSTAN, B. OF WORCESTER.

(a.d. 1095.)

(A.D. 1095.)

[Anglican and German and Roman Martyrologies. Authorities: his life by Florence of Worcester (D. 1118),[82] and William of Malmesbury, written 47 years after the death of S. Wulstan; another in Roger of Wendover, and numerous notices in other old English historians. He is called variously Wulstan and Wulfstan.]

[Anglican, German, and Roman Martyrologies. Sources: his life by Florence of Worcester (D. 1118),__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ and William of Malmesbury, written 47 years after the death of St. Wulstan; another in Roger of Wendover, and many references in other early English historians. He is referred to as Wulstan and Wulfstan.]

S. Wulstan was born in Warwickshire of pious parents. His father's name was Ealstan, and his mother's Wulfgeova. Both his parents were so devoted to the religious life, that, by mutual consent, they retired into monastic houses. Inspired by such examples, but chiefly by his mother's persuasion, Wulfstan quitted the world whilst yet young, and took the monastic habit in the same monastery in Worcester where his father had devoted himself to the service of God. He was there ordained deacon, and then priest, by the bishop. Observing a very strict course of life, he soon became remarkable for his vigils, fasting and prayers. In consequence of his discipline of himself, he was first appointed master of the novices, and afterwards, on account of his acquaintance with the ecclesiastical services, precentor and treasurer of the church. Being now intrusted with the custody of the church, he embraced the opportunities it afforded him for being almost perpetually in the sacred edifice, spending whole nights before the altar in prayer; and when he was exhausted with fatigue, he lay on one of the church benches, and placed his prayer-book beneath his head as a pillow.

S. Wulstan was born in Warwickshire to devout parents. His father's name was Ealstan, and his mother's was Wulfgeova. Both parents were so committed to their faith that they agreed to live in monastic communities. Inspired by their example, especially his mother's encouragement, Wulfstan left the secular world while still young and joined the same monastery in Worcester where his father dedicated himself to serving God. There, he was ordained as a deacon and then as a priest by the bishop. Living a very strict lifestyle, he quickly became known for his vigils, fasting, and prayers. Due to his self-discipline, he was first appointed master of the novices, and later, because of his knowledge of church services, he became the precentor and treasurer of the church. Now entrusted with the care of the church, he took advantage of the opportunity to spend almost all his time in the sacred building, often spending entire nights in prayer before the altar. When he grew tired, he would lie down on one of the church benches, using his prayer book as a pillow.

After some time, on the death of the prior, Bishop Aldred appointed Wulstan to succeed him. As prior, he preached every Lord's Day to the people, with so great unction, that they were moved to tears. One of the monks grumbled, and said that Wulfstan forgot his place,—it was the office of the bishop to preach, and that of the monk to hold his tongue. Hearing this, Wulfstan said, "My brother, the Word of God is not bound."

After a while, when the previous prior passed away, Bishop Aldred chose Wulstan to take his place. As prior, Wulstan preached every Sunday to the people with such passion that it brought them to tears. One of the monks complained, saying that Wulstan was overstepping his role—it was the bishop's job to preach, and the monk's job to remain silent. Hearing this, Wulstan replied, "My brother, the Word of God is not restricted."

Although very abstemious and moderate in his diet, he had not refrained from meat, till one day that roast goose was being prepared for dinner, the fragrance filled the church, and Wulstan, who was at the altar celebrating mass, was so distracted with the delicious odour, for he was very hungry, as it was the late choral mass, that he could not collect his thoughts. Then, filled with shame, before he left the altar he vowed never to touch meat again, and he kept this vow to his dying day.

Although he had always been very moderate and careful with his diet, he hadn’t completely given up meat until one day when a roast goose was being prepared for dinner. The smell filled the church, and Wulstan, who was at the altar celebrating mass, became so distracted by the delicious aroma, since he was quite hungry from the late choral mass, that he couldn’t focus. Then, feeling ashamed, before leaving the altar, he vowed never to eat meat again, and he stuck to that vow for the rest of his life.

On the elevation of Aldred, Bishop of Worcester, to the archbishopric of York, by unanimous consent of the clergy and laity in the election of a successor, Wulstan was chosen; the king having granted them permission to elect whom they pleased.

On the promotion of Aldred, Bishop of Worcester, to the archbishopric of York, the clergy and laity unanimously agreed on Wulstan as his successor, with the king allowing them to choose whoever they wanted.

It chanced that the legates from the Pope were present at the election, but neither they nor the clergy and people could persuade Wulstan to accept the charge, of which he declared himself to be unworthy. At last, being sharply reproved for his obstinate willfulness by Wulfsi, a hermit, and being strongly urged by S. Edward the Confessor, then king, he yielded, and was consecrated on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 1062.

It happened that the Pope's representatives were at the election, but neither they nor the clergy and the public could convince Wulstan to take on the role, as he felt he was unworthy of it. Eventually, after being harshly scolded for his stubbornness by Wulfsi, a hermit, and strongly encouraged by St. Edward the Confessor, who was king at the time, he agreed and was consecrated on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary in 1062.

As bishop, Wulstan maintained the same severity towards himself; every day he sang the late high mass; it being usual for the priests to take the choral mass by weeks, in turns, it being very trying, as the celebrant had to remain fasting till a late hour. Wulstan not only sang the high mass daily, but also all the canonical hours, and when he rode on journeys, he had his book open before him on the pommel [Pg 292] of his saddle, and he chanted aloud the psalms of David.

As bishop, Wulstan was just as strict with himself; he sang the late high mass every day. Typically, priests took turns singing the choral mass weekly, which was quite demanding since the celebrant had to stay fasting until a late hour. Wulstan didn’t just sing the high mass daily; he also attended all the canonical hours. Even when he was traveling, he kept his book open in front of him on the pommel [Pg 292] of his saddle and sang the psalms of David out loud.

As the old church and monastic buildings reared by S. Oswald were being demolished, to make way for more splendid edifices, Wulstan stood one day, and looked at the roofless church, and the walls that were being torn down, and his eyes filled with tears. "Why should you weep," said a monk, standing by; "you should rather laugh, to see the meanness of the first house swept away, to make room for a glorious second one." "No," answered Wulstan, "I see nothing to rejoice over in the demolition of the work of our Saints. True, they knew not how to rear a stately building; but under a mean roof, they offered the adorable sacrifice to God with great devotion, and set saintly examples to their flock; and we—we collect and carve the stones of the material temple, and neglect the edification of that which is spiritual—the souls of men."

As the old church and monastery built by St. Oswald were being torn down to make way for more impressive buildings, Wulstan stood one day, looking at the roofless church and the walls being demolished, and his eyes filled with tears. "Why are you crying?" asked a nearby monk. "You should be laughing, seeing the humble first house swept away for a glorious new one." "No," Wulstan replied, "I see nothing to celebrate in the destruction of what our Saints built. It's true they didn't know how to construct a grand building, but under a humble roof, they offered their heartfelt devotion to God and set saintly examples for their community. Meanwhile, we focus on gathering and shaping the stones of this physical temple, ignoring the spiritual growth of people's souls."

Below him in church sat a curly-headed choir boy. One day the bishop bent down, and laying his hand on the glossy curls, said, "All these will fall off one day!" Then the boy in alarm, turned round and said, "Oh, save my curls for me!" "My child, do not fear, as long as I live you shall retain your abundant hair." And so he did, for many long years, till Wulstan died, and then, says the chronicler who records this strange little incident, his hair came off as the bishop had foretold.[83]

Below him in church sat a curly-haired choir boy. One day the bishop leaned down, placed his hand on the shiny curls, and said, "One day, all of this will fall out!" The boy, alarmed, turned around and said, "Oh, please save my curls for me!" "My child, do not worry; as long as I am alive, you will keep your thick hair." And he did, for many long years, until Wulstan died. Then, as the chronicler who notes this odd little incident reports, his hair fell out just as the bishop had predicted.[83]

When William the Conqueror established himself in England, he not only gave the lands to his Norman nobles, but also the bishoprics to his Norman clergy. "Wulstan is a fool, he cannot speak French!" said William, and he ordered Lanfranc, his Norman Archbishop of Canterbury, to depose the plain Saxon Bishop of Worcester, on the charge of ignorance. A conclave was held in Westminster Abbey in 1074, to decide a dispute between Robert, Archbishop of York, and Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, as to the question whether the diocese of Worcester belonged to the northern or the southern province, and at the same time to deprive Wulstan. When called in question as to his slender attainments in learning, he rose and said, "We have not sung Sext yet. Let us chant the office first, and I will answer afterwards."

When William the Conqueror took control in England, he not only awarded the lands to his Norman nobles but also the bishoprics to his Norman clergy. "Wulstan is an idiot; he can't even speak French!" said William, and he instructed Lanfranc, his Norman Archbishop of Canterbury, to remove the simple Saxon Bishop of Worcester on the grounds of ignorance. A meeting was held in Westminster Abbey in 1074 to resolve a conflict between Robert, Archbishop of York, and Lanfranc, Archbishop of Canterbury, regarding whether the diocese of Worcester belonged to the northern or southern province, and to also dismiss Wulstan. When questioned about his limited knowledge, he stood up and said, "We haven't sung Sext yet. Let's chant the office first, and I'll answer afterward."

But those around him remonstrated, saying, "Let us do our business first, and we can sing the service afterwards; we shall become objects of ridicule to the king and nobles, if we keep them waiting till we have done our office."

But those around him protested, saying, "Let’s take care of our business first, and we can sing the service later; we’ll look ridiculous to the king and nobles if we keep them waiting until we’ve finished our work."

"No!" exclaimed Wulstan; "the duty to God must be done first, and then we will consider the petty disputes of men." Having sung the service, he directly proceeded to the council chamber. To his dependants, who were desirous of withholding him, and who could not be persuaded that their cause was not in danger, he said, "Know for certain, that I here see the holy archbishops, Dunstan of Canterbury and Oswald of York, defending me this day by their prayers, and they will darken the understandings of my gainsayers." Then he gave his benediction to a monk who could speak Norman French, but imperfectly at best, and ordered him to state his case for him.[84]

"No!" Wulstan shouted. "Our duty to God comes first, and then we can deal with the minor disputes of men." After singing the service, he went straight to the council chamber. To his supporters, who wanted to hold him back and couldn't believe their cause was safe, he said, "Know for sure that I see the holy archbishops, Dunstan of Canterbury and Oswald of York, defending me today with their prayers, and they will confuse my opponents." Then he blessed a monk who could speak Norman French, though not very well, and asked him to present his case on his behalf.[84]

There stood the grave long-bearded Saxon bishop arraigned for ignorance before the Norman king, and his smooth-shaven[85] Norman prelates. Wulstan, the representative of the people, Lanfranc of the nobles; Wulstan, the bishop of the conquered, and Lanfranc of the conquerors. When the poor Saxon peasants had come to him at Worcester, and had complained that these Norman invaders trampled down their corn, and robbed them of their cattle, and ground them down with taxes; "They are God's scourge, these Normans, punishing us for our sins, my children," said Wulstan. And now he was to be deprived of his office by these invaders, that a Norman might occupy his stool, and shepherd with his crook the Saxon bondsmen. The council decided, in accordance with the royal pleasure, that Wulstan was too ignorant to deserve to retain his see, and that therefore he must resign his pastoral staff and ring. The ring, the token that he was wedded to his diocese before God, that he said he would never resign, in life or in death. "I received this ring without coveting it, and I will bear it with me to my grave."[86] But the staff, the token of jurisdiction, that he could be deprived of, so rising from his place, with unruffled composure, and placid countenance, holding his staff, he said, "Truly, my Lord Archbishop, truly I know that I am unworthy of this honour, nor fit to bear this burden, nor sufficient to endure the labour. I knew this when the clergy elected me, and when the bishops urged me, and when my own master, King Edward, invited me. He, with the authority of the apostolic see, laid this burden on my shoulders, and ordered me to be invested with the episcopate, by the token of this staff. Now thou desirest of me this pastoral staff, which thou gavest me not; thou demandest of me the surrender of the office thou laidest not on me. I, indeed, am well aware of my ignorance, and yielding to the sentence of this holy conclave, I resign my staff—not to thee, but to him who gave it me." Saying this he went forth from the chapter house to the tomb of S. Edward the Confessor, and standing before the stone, he cried, "Thou [Pg 295] knowest, O my Master! how reluctantly I received this burden, how often I fled away from it; how, when sought, that it might be imposed on me, I secreted myself. I confess that I am a fool, but thou didst constrain me. There lacked not the election of the brethren, the entreaty of the people, the will of the bishops, the favour of the nobles; but none of these things weighed with me like thy authority; it was thy will that bent mine. And now we have a new king, a new law, a new archbishop, who found new rights and declare new sentences. They convince thee of error, who commanded, and me of presumption, who obeyed. Therefore, not to them who demand, but to thee who gavest; not to them, fallible, walking in darkness, but to thee who hast been led forth into the clear light of very truth, and hast escaped out of this region of error and ignorance, to thee I resign my staff, to thee I surrender the cure of those thou didst commend to me, to thee I commit them in confidence, knowing well thy merits."

There stood the serious, long-bearded Saxon bishop, put on trial for ignorance before the Norman king and his clean-shaven Norman church leaders. Wulstan represented the common people, while Lanfranc represented the nobles; Wulstan was the bishop of the conquered, and Lanfranc was from the conquerors. When the poor Saxon peasants came to him at Worcester and complained that the Norman invaders were trampling their crops, stealing their cattle, and burdening them with taxes, Wulstan said, "These Normans are God's punishment for our sins, my children." And now he was about to be stripped of his position by these invaders, so that a Norman could take his place and oversee the Saxon laborers. The council decided, in line with the king's wishes, that Wulstan was too ignorant to keep his position, and thus he must give up his pastoral staff and ring. The ring, which symbolized his commitment to his diocese before God, something he said he would never relinquish, whether in life or death. "I received this ring without wanting it, and I will take it with me to my grave." But the staff, the symbol of authority, could be taken away from him, so rising from his place, with calm composure and a peaceful expression, holding his staff, he said, "Indeed, my Lord Archbishop, I know that I am unworthy of this honor, not fit to carry this burden, nor capable of enduring the labor. I was aware of this when the clergy elected me, when the bishops urged me, and when my own master, King Edward, invited me. He, with the authority of the apostolic see, placed this burden on my shoulders and ordered me to be invested with the episcopate, by the symbol of this staff. Now you ask for this pastoral staff, which you did not give me; you demand I surrender the office you did not assign to me. I am fully aware of my ignorance, and yielding to the judgment of this holy council, I give up my staff—not to you, but to the one who gave it to me." With this, he left the chapter house and went to the tomb of S. Edward the Confessor. Standing before the stone, he cried, "You know, O my Master! how reluctantly I accepted this burden, how many times I tried to escape it; how, when it was sought to be placed upon me, I hid away. I admit that I am foolish, but you compelled me. I had the support of the brethren's election, the people's request, the bishops' will, and the nobles' favor; but none of these weighed upon me like your authority; it was your will that shaped mine. And now we have a new king, a new law, a new archbishop, who establish new rights and declare new judgments. They accuse you of error, who commanded, and me of arrogance, who obeyed. Therefore, not to those who demand, but to you who gave; not to them, fallible, lost in darkness, but to you who have been led into the clear light of truth and have escaped this realm of error and ignorance, to you I resign my staff, to you I hand over the care of those you entrusted to me, to you I confidently commit them, knowing well your merits."

Having said this, he slowly raised his hand a little, and said, "My lord and king, accept this, and surrender it to whom thou choosest!" Then he struck the staff into the sepulchral stone, and laying aside his pontifical habit, he seated himself, as a monk, among the monks.

Having said this, he slowly lifted his hand slightly and said, "My lord and king, accept this and give it to whoever you choose!" Then he struck the staff into the grave stone and set aside his ceremonial robes, sitting down as a monk among the monks.

Was there ever a grander incident in English Church history? Was there ever a nobler speech uttered by an English bishop?

Was there ever a bigger event in English Church history? Has an English bishop ever given a more impressive speech?

Then all, surprised, saw that the staff stood in the stone; and one ran and told Lanfranc, but he believed it not, and bade Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, to whom he had promised the bishopric of Worcester, to go and bring back the staff. So Gundulf went, but the staff was immovably imbedded in the stone.

Then everyone, surprised, saw that the staff was stuck in the stone; one person ran to tell Lanfranc, but he didn't believe it and instructed Gundulf, Bishop of Rochester, whom he had promised the bishopric of Worcester, to go and retrieve the staff. So Gundulf went, but the staff was firmly stuck in the stone.

Then the archbishop and the king went to the tomb, and sought to wrench the staff from where it stood, but they [Pg 296] were unable. Lanfranc at once turned, and coming straight down to where the monk sat, he bowed to him, and said, "Verily God resisteth the proud and giveth grace unto the humble. Thy simplicity was scorned by us, brother, but thy righteousness is made clear as the light. Our wisdom has been brought to naught, and thy ignorance has prevailed. Take then again that charge which we unadvisedly deprived thee of, but which we, by our authority and the judgment of God, commit to thee once more."

Then the archbishop and the king went to the tomb and tried to pull the staff from where it stood, but they [Pg 296] couldn't. Lanfranc turned around and walked straight over to where the monk was sitting. He bowed to him and said, "Truly, God opposes the proud and gives grace to the humble. We mocked your simplicity, brother, but your righteousness shines bright like the light. Our wisdom has come to nothing, and your ignorance has triumphed. So, take back the responsibility that we foolishly took away from you, which we now, by our authority and the judgment of God, give back to you."

But Wulstan hesitated; however, being urged vehemently by those who stood by, he went to the tomb again, and said:—"Now, my lord and king, to whose judgment I commended myself, and to whom I resigned my staff, show me what is thy pleasure. Thou hast preserved thine honour, thou hast made manifest my innocence. If thine old sentence stands, restore to me my staff; if not, yield it to whom thou wilt!" Then he put forth his hand, and touched the staff, and he removed it at once with ease.[87]

But Wulstan hesitated; however, urged strongly by those around him, he returned to the tomb and said:—"Now, my lord and king, to whose judgment I entrusted myself, and to whom I handed over my staff, show me what your will is. You have upheld your honor, you have revealed my innocence. If your old judgment stands, give me back my staff; if not, give it to whoever you choose!" Then he reached out his hand, touched the staff, and easily took it away. [87]

To Lanfranc and Wulstan, acting conjointly, is due the cessation of the slave traffic in England. It was the custom of the English to sell slaves to the Irish, and this was subject to a tax which passed into the royal exchequer. "The credit of this action," says Malmesbury,[88] "I know not whether to attribute to Lanfranc, or to Wulstan, who would scarcely have induced the king, reluctant from the profit it produced to him, to this measure, had not Lanfranc commended it, and Wulstan, powerful through the sanctity of his character, commended it by episcopal authority."

To Lanfranc and Wulstan, working together, we owe the end of the slave trade in England. The English used to sell slaves to the Irish, and this practice was taxed, with the revenue going to the royal treasury. "I don't know whether to give credit for this action to Lanfranc or to Wulstan,” says Malmesbury,[88] “since Wulstan would hardly have persuaded the king, who was reluctant because of the profits it brought him, to take this step if Lanfranc hadn’t supported it, and Wulstan, respected for his holiness, endorsed it with his episcopal authority.”

S. WULSTAN, BISHOP OF WORCESTER.

Having taken the oath of allegiance to William, Wulstan remained faithful. When, in the same year, 1074, some of the Saxon earls rose against the Conqueror, Wulstan and the abbot of Evesham, supported by the sheriff of Worcester and Walter de Lacy, prevented their junction, by raising their vassals and occupying the ford of the Severn.[89]

Having sworn loyalty to William, Wulstan stayed true. In the same year, 1074, when some of the Saxon earls rebelled against the Conqueror, Wulstan and the abbot of Evesham, with help from the sheriff of Worcester and Walter de Lacy, stopped them from joining forces by rallying their followers and securing the ford of the Severn.[89]

In the Barons' revolt, 1088, "Bernard du Neuf-Marché, Roger de Lacy, who had lately wrested Hereford from the king, and Ralph de Mortimer, with the vassals of the Earl of Shrewsbury, having assembled a numerous army of English, Normans and Welsh, burst into the province of Worcester, declaring that they would burn the city of Worcester, plunder the Church of God and S. Mary, and take summary vengeance on the inhabitants for their loyalty to the king. On hearing this, the reverend father Wulstan, Bishop of Worcester, a man of deep piety and dove-like simplicity, beloved alike by God and the people he governed, faithful to the king as his earthly lord, was in great tribulation; but soon rallying, by God's mercy, prepared to stand manfully by his people and city. While they armed themselves to repel the enemy, he poured forth supplications in the impending danger, exhorting his people not to despair. Meanwhile, the Normans, taking counsel, entreated the bishop to remove from the church into the castle, saying that his presence there would give them more security, if they were in great peril, for they loved him much. Such was his extraordinary kindness of heart, that from duty to the king, and regard for them, he assented to their request.

In the Barons' revolt of 1088, "Bernard du Neuf-Marché, Roger de Lacy—who had recently taken Hereford from the king—and Ralph de Mortimer, along with the followers of the Earl of Shrewsbury, gathered a large army of English, Normans, and Welsh. They invaded the province of Worcester, declaring their intent to burn the city, loot the Church of God and St. Mary, and take swift revenge on the locals for their loyalty to the king. Upon hearing this, the honorable Bishop Wulstan of Worcester, a deeply pious man known for his simplicity and beloved by both God and his people, who remained loyal to the king as his earthly lord, was greatly troubled. However, soon gathering his strength through God's grace, he prepared to stand strong for his city and its people. As they armed themselves to defend against the attackers, he fervently prayed for their safety, encouraging his people not to lose hope. Meanwhile, the Normans, seeking counsel, urged the bishop to move from the church to the castle, suggesting that his presence there would provide them greater security if they were in serious danger, as they held him in high regard. His extraordinary kindness led him, out of duty to the king and consideration for them, to agree to their request."

"Thereupon, the bishop's retainers made ready, and the garrison and the whole body of citizens assembled, declaring that they would encounter the enemy on the other side of the Severn, if the bishop would give them leave. Taking their arms, and being arrayed for battle, they met the bishop, as he was going to the castle, and besought him to grant their desire, to which he freely assented. 'Go,' said he, 'My sons, go in peace, go in confidence, with God's blessing and mine. Trusting in God, I promise you that no sword shall hurt you this day. Be loyal, and do valiantly for the safety of the people and the city.'" The victory was complete. The rebels were routed, and the king's liege-men and the bishop's retainers returned home in triumph, without the loss of a single man.[90]

The bishop's followers got ready, and the garrison along with all the citizens gathered, stating that they would face the enemy on the other side of the Severn, if the bishop would allow it. Armed and prepared for battle, they met the bishop as he was heading to the castle and requested his approval, which he agreed to without hesitation. "Go," he said, "My sons, go in peace, go with confidence, with God's blessing and mine. Trusting in God, I promise you that no sword will harm you today. Be loyal and fight bravely for the safety of the people and the city." The victory was complete. The rebels were defeated, and the king's loyal men and the bishop's followers returned home in triumph, without losing a single man.[90]

He died in the year 1095, on January the 19th, and was buried with his ring on his finger. "God suffered no man to remove from his finger the ring with which he had received episcopal consecration," says Florence of Worcester; "that the holy man might not appear to forfeit his engagement to his people, to whom he had often protested that he would not part with it during his life, nor even on the day of his burial."

He died in 1095, on January 19th, and was buried with his ring on his finger. "God allowed no one to take off the ring with which he had received his episcopal consecration," says Florence of Worcester; "so that the holy man wouldn’t seem to break his promise to his people, to whom he had often declared that he would not part with it during his lifetime, not even on the day of his burial."

SS. Fabian and Sebastian. Jan. 20. Saints Fabian and Sebastian. January 20.

FOOTNOTES:

[81] At Santa Ninfa, about thirteen miles from Rome.

[81] At Santa Ninfa, roughly thirteen miles from Rome.

[82] Florence knew S. Wulstan personally, as appears from his account of his vigils. He says, "He sometimes went four days and nights without sleep,—a thing we could hardly have believed, if we had not heard it from his own mouth."

[82] Florence personally knew S. Wulstan, as indicated by his account of his vigils. He says, "He sometimes went four days and nights without sleep—something we could hardly believe if we hadn't heard it from his own mouth."

[83] S. Wulstan sometimes joked; but the specimen recorded by Malmesbury is not striking for wit, nor for its reverence, wherefore I give it in Latin. Being asked why he wore lamb's wool garments in winter, instead of cat's skin like the other clergy he answered, "Nunquam audivi cantari Cattus Dei, sed Agnus Dei; ideo non catto, sed agno volo calefieri."

[83] S. Wulstan sometimes joked, but the example noted by Malmesbury isn’t remarkable for its humor or reverence, which is why I’m providing it in Latin. When asked why he wore lamb's wool clothing in winter instead of cat skin like the other clergy, he replied, "I have never heard 'Cat of God' sung, but 'Lamb of God'; therefore, I want to be warmed not by a cat, but by a lamb."

[84] So far William of Malmesbury, who abruptly closes, saying that he will no longer torture the patience of his readers. What follows is from Roger of Wendover.

[84] Up to this point, William of Malmesbury wraps things up quickly, stating that he won't keep testing his readers' patience any longer. What comes next is from Roger of Wendover.

[85] Dr. Rock: Church of our Fathers, II. p. 99, plate.

[85] Dr. Rock: Church of our Fathers, II. p. 99, plate.

[86] Roger of Wendover, and Capgrave.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Roger of Wendover and Capgrave.

[87] This most striking incident is not mentioned by Florence of Worcester, or William of Malmesbury, but occurs in Roger of Wendover and Matthew of Westminster.

[87] This remarkable event is not mentioned by Florence of Worcester or William of Malmesbury, but it is noted by Roger of Wendover and Matthew of Westminster.

[88] Chronicle, lib. III.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Chronicle, book III.

[89] Florence of Worcester.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Florence of Worcester.

[90] Florence of Worcester.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Florence of Worcester.


January 20.

S. Fabian, Pope and M., at Rome, a.d. 250.
S. Sebastian, M., at Rome, a.d. 303.
S. Euthymius the Great, Ab. in Palestine, a.d. 473.
S. Fechin, Ab., at Fore, in Ireland, a.d. 665.
S. Maur, B. of Cesena, in Italy, middle of 7th cent.
S. Benedict, H., near Fiesole, in Italy.

St. Fabian, Pope and Martyr, in Rome, A.D. 250.
St. Sebastian, Martyr, in Rome, A.D. 303.
St. Euthymius the Great, Abbot in Palestine, A.D. 473.
St. Fechin, Abbot, at Fore, in Ireland, A.D. 665.
St. Maur, Bishop of Cesena, in Italy, mid-7th century.
St. Benedict, Hermit, near Fiesole, in Italy.

S. FABIAN, POPE AND M., AT ROME.

(a.d. 250.)

(A.D. 250.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authorities: Eusebius, lib. vi. c. 29 and 39; the Liber de Romanis Pontificibus; S. Jerome, lib. de Eccles. Script. c. 54; a letter of S. Cyprian (55) to Cornelius, &c.]

[Roman Martyrology. Sources: Eusebius, book vi, chapters 29 and 39; the Book of Roman Pontiffs; St. Jerome, book on Ecclesiastical Writers, chapter 54; a letter from St. Cyprian (55) to Cornelius, etc.]

S.

aint Fabian succeeded Anteros in the see of Rome. It is said that Fabian had come to Rome out of the country, and, by divine grace, he was singled out in a very remarkable manner to be bishop. For, when all the brethren had assembled in the church for the purpose of ordaining him that should succeed in the episcopate, though there were many eminent and illustrious men present, yet no one thought of any but Fabian. They relate that a dove, suddenly fluttering down, rested upon his head, bringing up before their minds the scene when the Holy Spirit of old came down on the Saviour. Thereupon the whole body exclaimed with one voice, as if moved by the Spirit of God, "He is worthy!"[91] and without delay they took him and placed him upon the episcopal throne.[92]

Saint Fabian succeeded Anteros as the bishop of Rome. It’s said that Fabian came to Rome from the countryside, and, through divine grace, he was chosen in a very extraordinary way to be a bishop. When all the members gathered in the church to ordain someone to succeed in the episcopate, despite the presence of many distinguished men, everyone focused only on Fabian. They tell that a dove suddenly flew down and landed on his head, reminding them of the moment when the Holy Spirit came down on the Savior. Then, the entire assembly exclaimed in unison, as if inspired by the Spirit of God, "He is worthy!"[91] and without hesitation, they took him and placed him on the episcopal throne.[92]

S. Fabian governed the Church of Rome for sixteen years. He is said by some to have converted and baptized the Emperor Philip. "Philip, after a reign of seven years," says Eusebius, "was succeeded by Decius, who, in consequence of his hatred to Philip, raised a persecution against the Church, in which Fabian suffered martyrdom, and was succeeded, as Bishop of Rome, by Cornelius."[93]

S. Fabian led the Church of Rome for sixteen years. Some say he converted and baptized Emperor Philip. "Philip, after reigning for seven years," Eusebius writes, "was succeeded by Decius, who, out of his hatred for Philip, stirred up a persecution against the Church, during which Fabian was martyred, and Cornelius became the Bishop of Rome." [93]

Relics, in the churches of S. Martin de la Monte, S. Praxedes, a head and an arm in that of S. Sebastian, in Rome.

Relics, in the churches of St. Martin de la Monte, St. Praxedes, a head and an arm in that of St. Sebastian, in Rome.

In art, he appears with the pontifical tiara and a dove.

In art, he is depicted wearing the papal tiara and accompanied by a dove.

S. SEBASTIAN, M., AT ROME.

(a.d. 303.)

(A.D. 303.)

[All the ancient Latin Martyrologies. The Greeks commemorate him on December 18th. The original Acts are not in our possession. What is regarded as the Acts appears to be a panegyric, falsely attributed to S. Ambrose, on S. Sebastian's Day. The incidents are no doubt taken from the original Acts, but the long sermons and theological instructions put into the mouths of S. Sebastian and Tranquillinus, are certainly oratorical compositions of the author who passes for S. Ambrose.]

[All the ancient Latin Martyrologies. The Greeks commemorate him on December 18th. We don’t have the original Acts. What we have considered as the Acts appears to be a eulogy, wrongly attributed to St. Ambrose, on St. Sebastian's Day. The events are probably derived from the original Acts, but the long sermons and theological teachings attributed to St. Sebastian and Tranquillinus are definitely rhetorical writings by the author believed to be St. Ambrose.]

S. Sebastian was born at Narbonne, in Gaul, but his parents were of Milan, in Italy, and he was brought up in that city. He was a fervent soldier of Christ at the same time that he served in the army of the Emperor. He was so greatly regarded by the Emperors Diocletian and Maximian, that he was elevated to the command of the first cohort, for he was a man prudent, upright in word and act, faithful in business, fervent in spirit. He was enabled, by his rank and office, to be of service to those who were imprisoned for the faith of Christ. He relieved their sufferings, and urged them to constancy.

S. Sebastian was born in Narbonne, Gaul, but his parents were from Milan, Italy, where he grew up. He was a passionate soldier of Christ while also serving in the Emperor's army. The Emperors Diocletian and Maximian held him in high regard, promoting him to the command of the first cohort because he was a wise, honest man in both words and actions, reliable in his duties, and enthusiastic in spirit. His rank and position allowed him to help those imprisoned for their faith in Christ. He eased their suffering and encouraged them to remain steadfast.

Two brothers, Marcus and Marcellianus, had been accused of being Christians, and were expecting execution in prison, when their friends, admitted to see them, implored them with tears to save their lives by apostasy. They seemed to waver; they promised to deliberate. Sebastian heard of this, and rushed to save them. He was too well known to be refused admittance, and he entered their gloomy prison as an angel of light.

Two brothers, Marcus and Marcellianus, had been accused of being Christians and were awaiting execution in prison when their friends, allowed to visit them, desperately pleaded with tears for them to save their lives by renouncing their faith. They appeared uncertain and promised to think it over. Sebastian learned of this and hurried to help them. He was too well-known to be turned away, and he entered their dark prison like an angel of light.

Tranquillinus, the father of the two youths, had obtained from Agrestius Chromatius,[94] prefect of the city, a respite of thirty days for them, to try their constancy; and, to second his efforts, they had been placed in the house of Nicostratus, the keeper of the records (primiscrinius).

Tranquillinus, the father of the two young men, had obtained a thirty-day break for them from Agrestius Chromatius, the prefect of the city, to test their resolve; and to support his efforts, they had been placed in the house of Nicostratus, the records keeper.

Sebastian's was a bold and perilous office. Besides the two Christian captives, there were gathered in the place sixteen heathen prisoners; there were the parents of the unfortunate youths weeping over them, to allure them from their threatened fate; and there was the magistrate, Nicostratus, with his wife Zoë, drawn thither by the compassionate wish of seeing the youths snatched from their fate. Could Sebastian hope that of this crowd not one would be found whom a sense of official duty, or a hope of pardon, or hatred of Christianity, might impel to betray him, if he avowed himself a Christian?

Sebastian's position was dangerous and risky. Alongside the two Christian captives, there were sixteen non-Christian prisoners in the room. Their parents were there, crying over them, trying to distract the youths from their looming doom; and the magistrate, Nicostratus, was present with his wife Zoë, drawn by the compassionate desire to see the youths saved from their fate. Could Sebastian really believe that among this crowd, no one would feel compelled by duty, a desire for mercy, or a dislike of Christianity to reveal his identity if he admitted to being a Christian?

The room was illumined only by an opening in the roof, and Sebastian, anxious to be seen by all, stood in the ray which shot through it; strong and brilliant where it beat, but leaving the rest of the apartment dark. It broke against the gold and jewels of his rich tribune's armour, and as he moved, scattered itself in brilliant reflections into the darkest recesses of the gloom; while it beamed with serene steadiness on his uncovered head.[95]

The room was lit only by a gap in the roof, and Sebastian, eager to be noticed by everyone, stood in the beam that came through it; it was strong and bright where it hit, but left the rest of the room in shadow. The light bounced off the gold and jewels of his ornate tribune's armor, and as he moved, it scattered in brilliant reflections into the darkest corners of the gloom; meanwhile, it shone steadily on his bare head.[95]

"O most happy soldiers of Christ, valiant warriors in the fight! are ye now, after having undergone so much that ye touch the palm, are ye now, I ask, about to withdraw from the fight and lay aside the crown, overcome by these blandishments? Let them see in you the fortitude of Christian soldiers, sheathed rather in fortitude than in armour of iron. Can it be that you will cast away the rewards of victory at the instigation of a woman? Can it be that half-conquering already, you will bow your necks to be trampled on by the deadly foe?" Words of reproach and threatening and promise poured from his lips.[96]

"O most happy soldiers of Christ, brave warriors in the battle! After going through so much that you are now touching the victory, I ask you, are you really going to pull back from the fight and set aside the crown, swayed by these temptations? Let them see in you the strength of Christian soldiers, armored more in courage than in iron. Can you really throw away the rewards of victory because of a woman’s influence? Can it be that, already half-conquered, you will bow your heads to be crushed by the deadly enemy?" Words of reproach and threats poured from his lips.[96]

The scene that followed baffles description. All were moved; all wept. Marcus and Marcellianus were ashamed of their late hesitation. Tranquillinus and his wife were convinced; the prisoners joined in the tumult of these new affections; and Sebastian saw himself surrounded by a group of men and women smitten by grace, softened by its influences, and subdued by its power; yet all was lost if one remained behind. He saw the danger, not to himself, but to the Church, if a sudden discovery were made, and to those souls fluttering in uncertain faith.

The scene that followed is hard to explain. Everyone was moved; everyone cried. Marcus and Marcellianus regretted their earlier doubts. Tranquillinus and his wife were persuaded; the prisoners participated in the surge of these new feelings; and Sebastian found himself surrounded by a group of men and women touched by grace, softened by its effects, and humbled by its strength; yet everything would be lost if one person stayed behind. He recognized the threat, not to himself, but to the Church, if a sudden revelation occurred, and to those souls wavering in uncertain faith.

Zoë knelt before Sebastian with a beseeching look and outstretched arm, but she spoke not a word, for, six years before, her tongue had been paralysed in a severe sickness, and she had not spoken since. Sebastian looked at her earnestly, and read in her signs, and the expression of her countenance, that she believed in her heart. Then he asked wherefore she spoke not, and it was told him that she was dumb. Then, raising his hand and signing her mouth with a cross, he said, "If I am the true servant of Christ, and those things are true which I have spoken, and thou O, woman, hast heard, may the Lord Jesus Christ, in whom I believe, restore the use of thy tongue, and open thy mouth, as he opened the mouth of his prophet Zachariah."

Zoë knelt before Sebastian with a pleading look and an outstretched arm, but she didn't say a word, because six years earlier, her speech had been taken from her by a serious illness, and she hadn’t spoken since. Sebastian looked at her intently and understood from her gestures and her facial expression that she believed in her heart. Then he asked why she didn’t speak, and was told that she was mute. Raising his hand and tracing a cross over her mouth, he said, "If I am truly a servant of Christ, and what I’ve said is true, and you, O woman, have heard, may the Lord Jesus Christ, in whom I believe, restore your speech and open your mouth, as he opened the mouth of his prophet Zachariah."

Then suddenly the woman cried out:—"Blessed art thou, and blessed is the word of thy mouth, and blessed are they that believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God." And when Nicostratus saw the grace of God revealed by the healing of his wife, he fell at the feet of Sebastian, and offered to break the chains off the hands and feet of the confessors, and let them go; but to this they would not consent. Then Nicostratus transferred them all, with Tranquillinus and his wife, to the full liberty of his house, after having obtained leave from Claudius the keeper of the prisons (Commentariensis.) Sebastian lost no time in putting them under the care of the priest Polycarp, of the title, or parish of S. Pastor, who diligently instructed them, night and day. In the meantime, Claudius, the gaoler, came to the house of Nicostratus, and said, "The prefect is much disturbed at my having allowed the prisoners to be in your house; and therefore he requires you to appear before him and explain the reason."

Then suddenly the woman cried out, “You are blessed, and blessed is the word that comes from your mouth, and blessed are those who believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God.” When Nicostratus saw God’s grace revealed through the healing of his wife, he fell at the feet of Sebastian and offered to break the chains off the hands and feet of the confessors and let them go; but they refused. Then Nicostratus moved them all, along with Tranquillinus and his wife, to the complete freedom of his home, after getting permission from Claudius, the prison guard. Sebastian quickly put them under the care of the priest Polycarp, of the parish of S. Pastor, who diligently instructed them, day and night. In the meantime, Claudius, the jailer, came to Nicostratus’s house and said, “The prefect is very upset that I've let the prisoners stay in your house; therefore, he requires you to come before him and explain why.”

Nicostratus at once went to the prefect, and told him that he had taken the Christian prisoners into his own house, with the purpose of moving them the more easily to apostasy. "You did well," said Chromatius, and he dismissed him. On his way home, the keeper of the rolls told Claudius the truth; and when he related how Sebastian had healed his wife, Claudius exclaimed in an agony of eagerness:—"Send [Pg 304] him to my house, I have two lads, sons of my first wife, one dropsical, the other a poor wretched cripple. If he cured your wife, he can heal my sons." Then running home, he brought his two boys, one in each arm, to the house of Nicostratus, and introduced them into the company of the neophytes, and casting the boys in the midst, implored the disciples to recover his poor children, and declaring that he believed with all his heart. Then Polycarp, the priest, took the names of the whole company, they were sixty-eight in all, and he baptized them. Now when the two boys rose from the baptismal water, they were healed of their infirmities; and Tranquillinus, who had suffered excruciating torments from the gout, also felt that he was made whole.

Nicostratus immediately went to the prefect and told him that he had taken the Christian prisoners into his own house to lead them to renounce their faith more easily. "You did well," said Chromatius, and he dismissed him. On his way home, the keeper of the rolls told Claudius the truth, and when he explained how Sebastian had healed his wife, Claudius exclaimed in eager agony: “Send him to my house! I have two boys, the sons of my first wife; one has dropsy, and the other is a poor, wretched cripple. If he cured your wife, he can heal my sons.” Then, rushing home, he brought his two boys, one in each arm, to Nicostratus’s house, introduced them to the group of new believers, and, placing the boys among them, pleaded with the disciples to heal his poor children, declaring that he believed with all his heart. Then Polycarp, the priest, took the names of the entire group, which numbered sixty-eight, and he baptized them. When the two boys came up from the baptismal water, they were healed of their ailments; and Tranquillinus, who had been suffering excruciating pain from gout, also felt that he was made whole.

Chromatius, the prefect, was afterwards converted, and having resigned his office, retired into privacy.

Chromatius, the prefect, later converted to a different faith, resigned from his position and withdrew to a private life.

The care which Sebastian took of the Christian prisoners, and the efforts he made to stimulate their courage, could not long remain secret; and he was denounced to the Emperor Diocletian, who sent for him, and in a rage, exclaimed, "What! I have had thee about my person, and thou hast conspired against my safety!"

The care that Sebastian showed for the Christian prisoners and the efforts he made to boost their courage couldn’t stay hidden for long; he was reported to Emperor Diocletian, who summoned him and, in a fit of rage, exclaimed, "What! I’ve had you close to me, and you’ve plotted against my safety!"

S. Sebastian answered, "I pray daily for thy safety and for the prosperity of the state, to the God of heaven, for I reckon no succour can be got from gods of stone."

S. Sebastian replied, "I pray every day for your safety and for the well-being of the state, to the God of heaven, because I believe that no help can come from stone gods."

Then Diocletian ordered him to be taken out into a field, and be shot to death with arrows. Therefore the soldiers placed him as their mark, and left him for dead, bristling with arrows. But a certain woman, named Irene, the widow of the martyr Castulus, finding that he still lived, took him to her lodgings, at the head of the great staircase of the palace, and there nursed him till he was convalescent. And one day, as he began to walk, the Emperor passed. Then he started out to the head of the stairs. He had heard the familiar trumpet notes, which told him of the Emperor's approach, and he had risen, and crept to greet him.

Then Diocletian ordered him to be taken out into a field and shot to death with arrows. So the soldiers aimed at him and left him for dead, covered in arrows. But a woman named Irene, the widow of the martyr Castulus, finding that he was still alive, took him to her place at the top of the great staircase of the palace and nursed him back to health. One day, as he started to walk, the Emperor passed by. He heard the familiar sound of the trumpets announcing the Emperor's approach and got up, creeping over to greet him.

S. SEBASTIAN.

"Diocletian!" he cried out, in a hollow but distinct voice; "False are the words of thy idol priests, my sovereign, who say that we Christians are adversaries to the state; who cease not to pray for thy welfare and that of the realm."

"Diocletian!" he shouted, in a hollow but clear voice; "The words of your idol priests are false, my lord, who claim that we Christians are enemies of the state; we never stop praying for your well-being and that of the empire."

"What!" exclaimed the Emperor; "Art thou Sebastian?" "I am Sebastian, raised as from death to witness against thee for thy cruel persecution of the servants of Christ."

"What!" yelled the Emperor. "Are you Sebastian?" "I am Sebastian, brought back from the dead to testify against you for your cruel persecution of Christ's followers."

Then the Emperor, in a rage, ordered him to be taken into the court-yard of the palace, and to be beaten to death with clubs, and his body to be cast into the sewer.

Then the Emperor, furious, ordered him to be brought to the palace courtyard and beaten to death with clubs, and his body to be thrown into the sewer.

And when all this had been done, a devout woman, named Lucina, by night rescued the body from the place where it had been cast, and buried it reverently in her own garden.

And when all this was done, a devoted woman named Lucina quietly took the body from the spot where it had been thrown and buried it respectfully in her own garden.

A church was afterwards built over his relics by Pope Damasus.

A church was later built over his relics by Pope Damasus.

Patron of Chiemsee, Mannheim, Oetting, Palma, Rome, Soissons; of makers of military laces, of archers, makers of fencing foils.

Patron of Chiemsee, Mannheim, Oetting, Palma, Rome, Soissons; of creators of military laces, of archers, makers of fencing foils.

Relics, at Soissons, the head at Eternach, in Luxemburg, portions at Mantua, at Malaga, Seville, Toulouse, Munich, Paris, Tournai, in the Cathedral; Antwerp, in the church of the Jesuits; and at Brussels, in the Court Chapel.

Relics, in Soissons, the head in Eternach, in Luxembourg, pieces in Mantua, Malaga, Seville, Toulouse, Munich, Paris, Tournai, in the Cathedral; Antwerp, in the Jesuit church; and in Brussels, in the Court Chapel.

In art, can always be recognized as a young man, transfixed with arrows.

In art, he can always be recognized as a young man, frozen in place with arrows.

S. EUTHYMIUS THE GREAT, AB.

(a.d. 473.)

(A.D. 473.)

[Greek and Latin, and Syriac Martyrologies. Authority, his life by Cyrillus, monk of his monastery, in 543, sixty years after the death of Euthymius; he derived much of his information from an old monk who had been the disciple of the Saint.]

[Greek, Latin, and Syriac Martyrologies. The authoritative source is the biography written by Cyrillus, a monk from his monastery, in 543, sixty years after Euthymius's death; he gathered much of his information from an elderly monk who was a disciple of the Saint.]

There was a man named Paul, with his wife Dionysia, at [Pg 306] Melitene in Armenia, good Christians, loving one another, but childless. Then, with one consent, they entered into the church of the Martyr Polyeuctus, and abode there many days instant in prayer, that they might be given a son.

There was a man named Paul and his wife Dionysia, at [Pg 306] Melitene in Armenia, good Christians who loved each other, but were childless. Then, together, they went into the church of the Martyr Polyeuctus and stayed there for many days, devoted to prayer, hoping to be blessed with a son.

And after this had continued some time, in a vision of the night, the martyr appeared to them, and said, "Your prayer is heard, now therefore depart in peace; and when the child is born, let him be named Euthymius, or the 'Well disposed.'"

And after this had gone on for a while, in a night vision, the martyr appeared to them and said, "Your prayer has been heard, so now go in peace; and when the child is born, name him Euthymius, which means 'Well disposed.'"

Now it fell out, that shortly after the child's birth, Paul died. Then Dionysia, the widow, took her babe, and went to her brother Eudoxius, the chaplain or confessor to the Bishop of Melitene, and gave the little boy to him, as Hannah presented Samuel to Eli, that he should minister before the Lord.

Now it happened that shortly after the child's birth, Paul died. Then Dionysia, the widow, took her baby and went to her brother Eudoxius, the chaplain or confessor to the Bishop of Melitene, and gave the little boy to him, just as Hannah presented Samuel to Eli, so that he would serve before the Lord.

After that, Dionysia was ordained deaconess, and in due course Euthymius received the sacred orders of lector, and sub-deacon, and finally was made priest, and appointed to the oversight of all the monasteries in the diocese.

After that, Dionysia was made a deaconess, and eventually, Euthymius was given the sacred orders of lector, then sub-deacon, and finally became a priest, taking charge of all the monasteries in the diocese.

Euthymius often visited the church of S. Polyeuctus, and loving solitude, was wont to spend whole nights in prayer on a neighbouring mountain. But the love of being alone with God grew upon him, so that he could not rest, and at the age of twenty-nine, he secretly deserted his native place, and went to Jerusalem, where he visited the holy places; and then retired into the desert, near the Laura of Paran,[97] he found a cell in every way convenient, and there he abode. Now there was a monk near his cell, named Theoctistus, and him Euthymius loved greatly, for he was a good man, and full of the Holy Ghost. "The love of the same things," says his biographer; "and society in labour, united them so closely in the bond of charity, and to such an extent were their spirits blended in affection, that each was, as it were, planted in the heart of the other."

Euthymius often visited the church of S. Polyeuctus, and enjoying solitude, would spend entire nights in prayer on a nearby mountain. However, his desire to be alone with God grew so strong that he couldn’t find peace, and at the age of twenty-nine, he secretly left his hometown and went to Jerusalem, where he visited holy sites. After that, he retreated into the desert, near the Laura of Paran,[97] where he found a cell that was quite suitable, and he lived there. Close to his cell, there was a monk named Theoctistus, whom Euthymius loved deeply because he was a good man, filled with the Holy Spirit. "The love of the same things," says his biographer; "and shared efforts united them so closely in a bond of charity, to the extent that their spirits were intertwined in affection, making each feel as if they were planted in the heart of the other."

After five years spent in Paran, Euthymius resolved, with his friend Theoctistus, to fly into a solitude, more remote. So they went away into the barren mountains, near the Dead Sea; and there, searching for a place where they might dwell, they discovered a ravine, down which a torrent poured, and in the face of the rock was a cave. Then they entered into it and there they abode, living on vegetables, and drinking the water of the brook. Now it fell out, one day, that some shepherds came that way, and ascending to the cavern looked in, and were frightened when they saw two men, very haggard, with long beards. But Euthymius bade them be of good cheer, for they were hermits who dwelt there on account of their sins. Then the shepherds noised it abroad, and many disciples came to them, and they built a monastery, and Euthymius appointed Theoctistus to rule over it; and then he retired, loving solitude, into a remote hermitage, whence he issued forth only on the Sabbath (Saturday) and the Sunday. He enjoined on the monks to be diligent in work, and never to allow their hands to be idle. "For," said he, "if men in the world labour to support themselves, their wives, families and children, how much rather we, who have the poor depending upon us."

After spending five years in Paran, Euthymius decided, along with his friend Theoctistus, to retreat to a more remote solitude. They traveled into the barren mountains near the Dead Sea, where they searched for a place to live. They found a ravine where a stream flowed, and there was a cave in the rock face. They entered the cave and settled there, living on vegetables and drinking from the brook. One day, some shepherds passed by, climbed up to the cave to take a look, and were frightened to see two very thin men with long beards. But Euthymius reassured them, saying they were hermits living there because of their sins. The shepherds spread the word, and many disciples came to them. They built a monastery, and Euthymius appointed Theoctistus to lead it. He then withdrew to a remote hermitage, where he only came out on the Sabbath (Saturday) and Sunday. He instructed the monks to work diligently and never let their hands be idle. "For," he said, "if people in the world work to support themselves, their wives, families, and children, how much more should we, who have the poor depending on us."

Having cured Terebon, the son of Aspebetes, of paralysis, which afflicted one side of his body, Aspebetes, chief of the Arabs in Palestine, desired baptism, and took the name of Peter. Such multitudes of Arabs followed his example, that Juvenal, patriarch of Jerusalem, ordained him bishop of the wandering tribes, and he assisted at the council of Ephesus against Nestorius, in 431.

Having healed Terebon, the son of Aspebetes, from paralysis that affected one side of his body, Aspebetes, the leader of the Arabs in Palestine, wanted to be baptized and took the name Peter. So many Arabs followed his lead that Juvenal, the patriarch of Jerusalem, appointed him bishop of the wandering tribes, and he participated in the council of Ephesus against Nestorius in 431.

He built S. Euthymius a Laura on the right hand of the road from Jerusalem to Jericho, in the year 420. Euthymius [Pg 308] could never be prevailed upon to depart from his rule of strict solitude; but he governed his monks by superiors to whom he gave directions on Sundays.

He built a Laura for S. Euthymius on the right side of the road from Jerusalem to Jericho in the year 420. Euthymius [Pg 308] could never be convinced to leave his strict solitude, but he managed his monks through superiors to whom he provided instructions on Sundays.

"Do not suppose," said he to his monks, "that you come into the desert to leave temptation behind you." And then he related to them the following story. There was in Egypt a man afflicted with a very violent temper. So he ran away from his home into a monastery, where he thought he would be free from incentives to anger. But there he was frequently irritated by the other monks who, unintentionally, gave him annoyance. So he determined to escape wholly from the society of men, and then said he, I cannot give way, for I shall never be tempted. So he took with him only an earthenware bowl, out of which to drink, and he hid himself in a remote desert.

"Don’t think," he told his monks, "that coming to the desert means you’ll leave temptation behind." Then he shared the following story with them. There was a man in Egypt who had a really bad temper. So he ran away from home to a monastery, hoping to escape anything that might make him angry. But there, he was often annoyed by the other monks who, without realizing it, got on his nerves. So he decided to completely isolate himself from people and said to himself, I won’t be tempted if I’m alone. He took only a clay bowl to drink from and went off to hide in a remote desert.

Now, one day, he was fetching water from the spring, and he upset the bowl, and the water fell; then he dipped the vessel again, and as he was going, his foot tripped, and again the water was spilt; he dipped it once more, but his hand shook, and he overturned the basin a third time. Then, flaming into a furious passion, he dashed the bowl against a stone, and shivered it to fragments. And when his anger cooled down, he looked at his shattered bowl, and said, "Oh fool that I am! how can I escape the temptation which is in my nature! If I have not men to be angry with I rage against an earthen pot!"

One day, he was getting water from the spring when he accidentally tipped the bowl, spilling the water. He filled it again, but as he was walking, he tripped and spilled it once more. He dipped it a third time, but his hand shook, causing him to overturn the bowl again. Furious, he threw the bowl against a rock, shattering it into pieces. Once his anger subsided, he looked at the broken bowl and said, "Oh, how foolish I am! How can I escape the temptation that’s part of my nature? If there’s no one else to be angry with, I lose my temper at a clay pot!"

There was a man in the Laura, named Auxentius, whom the steward told to attend upon the mules, for "he was apt at mule-grooming." But Auxentius indignantly refused, saying, he came to the monastery to be a monk, and not an ostler. And when he constantly refused, on the next Lord's Day, the steward complained to Euthymius, who sent for the man. Then Euthymius said, "My son, it is necessary that some one of the brethren should attend to the [Pg 309] stables. Why shouldst not thou do this?"

There was a man in the Laura named Auxentius, whom the steward asked to take care of the mules because "he was good at grooming them." But Auxentius angrily refused, saying that he came to the monastery to be a monk, not a stable boy. When he continued to refuse, the following Sunday, the steward complained to Euthymius, who called for Auxentius. Then Euthymius said, "My son, it's necessary for someone among the brothers to take care of the stables. Why shouldn't you do this?"

"Because," answered Auxentius, "I don't like it."

"Because," Auxentius replied, "I don't like it."

"Alas," exclaimed the abbot; "I see thou art not imitating Him who said, I came not to do mine own will, I came not to be ministered to, but to minister."

"Unfortunately," said the abbot; "I see you are not following the example of Him who said, I came not to do my own will, I came not to be served, but to serve."

When the monk still refused, Euthymius said sadly, "Well, go thy way, and see if self-will will make thee happy."

When the monk still wouldn't agree, Euthymius said sadly, "Well, go on your way, and see if being stubborn will make you happy."

And presently the man fell ill, and in his sickness his conscience smote him, and he sent for the abbot, and he said, "I was wrong, I will look to the mules."

And soon the man got sick, and during his illness, he felt guilty. He called for the abbot and said, "I was wrong; I will take care of the mules."

Then Euthymius healed him, and Auxentius did as was required of him.

Then Euthymius healed him, and Auxentius did what he was supposed to do.

S. Euthymius showed great zeal against the Nestorian and Eutychian heretics. The turbulent Empress Eudocia, after the death of her husband, Theodosius, retired into Palestine, and there continued to favour them with her protection. Aroused by domestic affliction, the captivity of her daughter and grand-daughters, and the plunder of Rome, she sent to ask advice of S. Simeon Stylites. He answered that her misfortunes were the consequence of her sins, and especially of her having persecuted the orthodox faith; and ordered her to follow the direction of Euthymius. By the advice of S. Euthymius, she renounced Eutychianism, and embraced the Catholic communion. In 459, she sent word to Euthymius that she was coming to see him, and that she designed settling on his Laura sufficient revenues for its subsistence. He returned her answer that she need not do so, and that she must prepare for death. She obeyed, and died shortly after. One of the last disciples of our Saint was the young S. Sabas, whom he dearly loved. In the year 473, on the 13th January, Martyrius and Elias, two monks, to whom S. Euthymius had foretold that they should become patriarchs of Jerusalem, came with several others to [Pg 310] visit him, and to conduct him to his Lent retreat in a solitary place. He said that he would stay with them all that week, and leave them on the Saturday following, meaning, by death. Three days after, he gave orders that a general vigil should be observed on the eve of S. Anthony's Day; on this he made a discourse to his spiritual children. He appointed Elias to be his successor, and foretold that Domitian, a beloved disciple, who had long ministered to him, should follow him out of this world, on the seventh day, which happened accordingly. Euthymius died on Saturday, the 20th of January, being ninety-five years old, of which he had spent sixty-eight in his beloved deserts.

S. Euthymius was very passionate about opposing the Nestorian and Eutychian heretics. The restless Empress Eudocia, after her husband Theodosius passed away, withdrew to Palestine, where she continued to support them. Disturbed by personal troubles, including the capture of her daughter and granddaughters and the looting of Rome, she reached out to S. Simeon Stylites for advice. He told her that her hardships were due to her sins, particularly for persecuting the orthodox faith, and instructed her to follow Euthymius's guidance. Following S. Euthymius's counsel, she rejected Eutychianism and joined the Catholic communion. In 459, she informed Euthymius that she was coming to see him and planned to provide enough resources for his Laura's upkeep. He replied that she shouldn't worry about that and that she needed to prepare for death. She complied and passed away shortly after. One of the last disciples of our Saint was the young S. Sabas, whom he loved dearly. In 473, on January 13th, Martyrius and Elias, two monks whom S. Euthymius had predicted would become patriarchs of Jerusalem, came along with others to visit him and take him to his Lent retreat in a secluded area. He told them he would stay with them all week and would leave them on the following Saturday, meaning he would die. Three days later, he ordered that a general vigil be held the night before S. Anthony's Day; during this, he spoke to his spiritual children. He designated Elias as his successor and predicted that Domitian, a beloved disciple who had served him for a long time, would also pass away on the seventh day, which indeed happened. Euthymius died on Saturday, January 20th, at the age of ninety-five, having spent sixty-eight of those years in his cherished deserts.

S. FECHIN, AB. OF FORE.

(a.d. 665.)

(A.D. 665.)

[Authority, a life written in the 12th century, from tradition. Like so many of these Irish lives which were handed down from generation to generation, it contains many improbabilities.]

[Authority, a life documented in the 12th century, based on tradition. Like many of these Irish lives that have been handed down over generations, it features a number of improbable events.]

S. Fechin was abbot of Foure, in West Meath, where he governed three hundred monks. He is said to have pitied the monks engaged in grinding their corn in querns, he therefore brought water from a marsh to the monastery, by cutting a tunnel through the rock, and then established a water mill. Of this Giraldus Cambrensis relates the following:—There is a mill at Foure, which S. Fechin made most miraculously with his own hands, in the side of a certain rock. No women are allowed to enter either this mill or the church of the saint; and the mill is held in as much reverence by the natives as any of the churches dedicated to him.[98] The Saint finding a poor leper, full of sores one day, [Pg 311] took him to the Queen, and bade her minister to him as to Christ. She bravely overcame her repugnance, and tended him with gentle care.[99] Fechin was the son of Coelcharna, descendant of Eochad Fionn, brother to the famous king Conn of the Hundred Battles, and his mother Lassair was of the royal blood of Munster. When fit to be sent to school he was placed under S. Nathy of Achonry. Having finished his studies he was ordained priest, and retired to a solitary place at Fore in Westmeath, there to live as a hermit. But he was followed by many disciples, and Fore became a monastery of three hundred monks. He also established a religious house in the island of Immagh, near the coast of Galway. The inhabitants were then pagans, but Fechin and his monks converted them. His influence was very great with the kings and princes of his age. He died of a dreadful pestilence which swept Ireland in a.d. 665.

S. Fechin was the abbot of Foure in West Meath, where he led three hundred monks. He took pity on the monks who were grinding their corn by hand, so he brought water from a marsh to the monastery by cutting a tunnel through the rock and then set up a water mill. Giraldus Cambrensis wrote:—There is a mill at Foure that S. Fechin miraculously built with his own hands on the side of a certain rock. No women are allowed to enter either this mill or the saint's church; the locals hold the mill in as much reverence as any of the churches dedicated to him.[98] One day, the Saint found a poor leper covered in sores and took him to the Queen, urging her to care for him as she would for Christ. She bravely overcame her disgust and tended to him with gentle care.[99] Fechin was the son of Coelcharna, a descendant of Eochad Fionn, brother of the famous king Conn of the Hundred Battles, and his mother Lassair belonged to the royal bloodline of Munster. When he was old enough for school, he was placed under S. Nathy of Achonry. After completing his studies, he was ordained as a priest and withdrew to a solitary place at Fore in Westmeath to live as a hermit. However, he was followed by many disciples, and Fore eventually became a monastery with three hundred monks. He also founded a religious house on the island of Immagh, near the coast of Galway. The inhabitants were pagans at the time, but Fechin and his monks converted them. He had significant influence with the kings and princes of his time. He died from a devastating plague that swept through Ireland in AD 665.

The Peacock as a Christian Emblem The Peacock as a Christian Symbol

FOOTNOTES:

[91] This was the common acclamation at the election of bishops, of which we have many examples in Philostorgius, lib. ix. c. 10. And in the relation of things done at the election of Eradins (recorded in S. Augustine's Epistles), we read that they cried out twenty times, "He is worthy and just!" and five times, "He is deserving, he is worthy!"

[91] This was the usual proclamation during the election of bishops, which we have many examples of in Philostorgius, book ix, chapter 10. And in the account of the events that took place during the election of Eradins (noted in S. Augustine's Letters), we read that they shouted twenty times, "He is worthy and just!" and five times, "He is deserving, he is worthy!"

[92] Eusebius. lib. vi. c. 29.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Eusebius, Book 6, Chapter 29.

[93] Ibid. c. 39.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Same source, c. 39.

[94] This name presents a difficulty, as it does not appear in the lists of the prefects of the city. Bollandus suggests, not very plausibly, that on account of his secession from the state religion, his name was expunged.

[94] This name poses a challenge since it doesn't show up in the records of the city's prefects. Bollandus offers the unlikely suggestion that his name was removed due to his break from the state religion.

[95] This is H. E. Cardinal Wiseman's elegant description of the scene, which accords exactly with the Acts. This incident is not due to his imagination, but occurs in the Acts in these words:—"Igitur, cum hæc Beatissimus Sebastianus, indutus chlamyde, succinctus baltheo, ex suo ore proferret, subito per unam fere horam splendore nimio de cœlo veniente illuminatus est."

[95] This is H. E. Cardinal Wiseman's graceful portrayal of the scene, which perfectly aligns with the Acts. This event isn't a product of his imagination; it is mentioned in the Acts with these words:—"So, when the Most Blessed Sebastian, dressed in a cloak and wearing a belt, spoke from his own mouth, he was suddenly illuminated for almost an hour by a brilliant light coming from heaven."

[96] In the version of the Acts by S. Ambrose, the whole lengthy exhortation is given. This can hardly, however, be original, but is the composition of the author who passes for S. Ambrose.

[96] In S. Ambrose's version of the Acts, the entire long speech is included. However, this is unlikely to be the original text and seems to be the work of the person known as S. Ambrose.

[97] A Laura was a colony of eremites dwelling in separate hovels or caves, and differed in this particular from a monastery, where all dwelt under one roof.

[97] A Laura was a community of hermits living in individual huts or caves, setting it apart from a monastery, where everyone lived under one roof.

[98] Topography of Ireland, c. 52.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Geography of Ireland, about 52.

[99] Here occurs a very favourite incident in the lives of these Irish saints; it shall be given in Latin. The same is told of S. Mochua and others. "Leprosus ad Reginam dixit: Nares meas in ore tuo suge, et phlegma inde extrahe. At illa viriliter agens, sicut imperavit fecit, et phlegma in linteum posuit; iterum quoque ei mandavit, ut similiter faceret, et id quod extraheret, S. Fechino reservaret." When the Queen looked into the handkerchief, she found two clots of solid gold, one of which she retained, the other she gave to S. Fechin. The incident I give as characteristic, rather than edifying.

[99] Here is a very popular story in the lives of these Irish saints; it will be given in Latin. The same story is told of St. Mochua and others. "A leper said to the Queen: Suck the mucus from my nose and spit it out. She bravely did as he commanded and put the phlegm in a cloth; she instructed him again to do the same and to save what he extracted for St. Fechin." When the Queen looked into the handkerchief, she found two lumps of solid gold, one of which she kept, and the other she gave to St. Fechin. I'm sharing this incident as representative, rather than inspirational.


January 21.

SS. Fructuosus, B.M., Augurius, and Eulogius, DD., MM., at Tarragona,
in Spain
, a.d. 259.
S. Patroclus, M., at Troyes, in France, circ. a.d. 272.
S. Agnes, V.M., at Rome, circ. a.d. 303.
S. Epiphanius, B. of Pavia, in Italy, a.d. 496.
S. Meinrad, H. M., at Einsiedeln, in Switzerland, a.d. 861.

SS. Fructuosus, B.M., Augurius, and Eulogius, DD., MM., in Tarragona,
Spain
, in the year 259.
S. Patroclus, M., in Troyes, France, around in the year 272.
S. Agnes, V.M., in Rome, around in the year 303.
S. Epiphanius, Bishop of Pavia, Italy, in the year 496.
S. Meinrad, H.M., in Einsiedeln, Switzerland, in the year 861.

SS. FRUCTUOSUS, B. M., AUGURIUS AND EULOGIUS, DD., MM.

(a.d. 259.)

(A.D. 259.)

[Roman Martyrology, those of Usuardus, Bede, Notker, Ado, &c. The perfectly genuine Acts, which are extant, were read in the Church on this day, as S. Augustine testifies in his sermon for their commemoration.]

[Roman Martyrology, along with those of Usuardus, Bede, Notker, Ado, and others. The genuine Acts that exist were read in the Church on this day, as St. Augustine confirms in his sermon for their commemoration.]

V.

alerian and Gallienus being emperors,[100] Æmilian and Bassus consuls, on January 16th, being the Lord's-day, Fructuosus, the Bishop, Augurius and Eulogius, the deacons, were taken. Fructuosus was in bed, but hearing the tramp of the officers, he rose at once and went out barefoot.[101] To whom the soldiers said, "Come, the governor wants thee and thy deacons." Fructuosus said, "Let us go, but please, let me put on my shoes." The soldiers said, "As thou desirest, shoe thyself." As soon as they were come, they were put into prison. Fructuosus, certain and glorying in the crown of the Lord, to which he was called, prayed without ceasing. There were also with him some of the brethren, praying him to have them in remembrance. Next day, he baptized in the [Pg 313] prison our brother Rogatian. And they were six days in prison, and then were brought forth. It was on the 21st January, and a Friday, that they were heard. Æmilian, the governor, said, "Let Fructuosus, the Bishop, Augurius and Eulogius be brought forward." According to custom it was said, "They are here." Æmilian, the governor, said to Fructuosus, the Bishop, "Hast thou heard what the Emperors have ordered!" Fructuosus, the Bishop, said, "I do not know what their orders are; I am a Christian." Æmilian said, "They have ordered that the gods be worshipped." Fructuosus said, "I worship one God, who made heaven and earth, the sea and all that therein is." Æmilian said, "Do you know that there are many gods?" The Bishop said, "No, I do not." "Then thou soon shalt," said the governor. Fructuosus, the Bishop, looked up to the Lord, and began to pray within himself. Æmilian said, "Who will be heard, who feared, who adored, if the gods and the countenance of the Emperor are despised?" Then he said to Augurius, the deacon, "Don't listen to the words of Fructuosus." Augurius answered, "I worship the Almighty God." Æmilian, the governor, said to Eulogius, the deacon, "Dost thou not worship Fructuosus?" "By no means," said Eulogius, "but I worship the same God as does Fructuosus." Æmilian said to Fructuosus, "Art thou a Bishop?" Fructuosus answered, "I am." "You were one," said the Governor, and he ordered them to be burnt alive.

Aurelian and Gallienus were emperors, [100] while Æmilian and Bassus served as consuls. On January 16th, which was a Sunday, Fructuosus, the Bishop, along with deacons Augurius and Eulogius, were taken. Fructuosus was in bed, but when he heard the officers' footsteps, he immediately got up and went outside barefoot. [101] The soldiers said to him, "Come, the governor wants you and your deacons." Fructuosus replied, "Let's go, but please let me put on my shoes." The soldiers responded, "As you wish, put on your shoes." Once they arrived, they were thrown into prison. Fructuosus, confident and rejoicing in the crown of the Lord he was called to, prayed constantly. Some of the brethren were with him, asking him to remember them in his prayers. The next day, he baptized their brother Rogatian in the prison. They remained in prison for six days before being brought out. It was January 21st, a Friday, when they were presented. The governor Æmilian said, "Let Fructuosus the Bishop, Augurius, and Eulogius be brought forward." As was customary, it was announced, "They are here." Æmilian said to Fructuosus, "Have you heard what the Emperors have commanded?" Fructuosus replied, "I don't know what their commands are; I am a Christian." Æmilian said, "They have commanded that the gods be worshipped." Fructuosus replied, "I worship one God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in it." Æmilian asked, "Do you know that there are many gods?" The Bishop said, "No, I do not." "Then you will soon find out," responded the governor. Fructuosus looked up to the Lord and began to pray silently. Æmilian asked, "Who will be heeded, who feared, who adored, if the gods and the Emperor's authority are disregarded?" He then told Augurius, the deacon, "Don't listen to Fructuosus's words." Augurius replied, "I worship the Almighty God." Æmilian then asked Eulogius, the deacon, "Do you not worship Fructuosus?" Eulogius responded, "Not at all, but I worship the same God as Fructuosus." Æmilian asked Fructuosus, "Are you a Bishop?" Fructuosus answered, "I am." "You were one," the governor said, and he ordered them to be burned alive.

And when Fructuosus, the Bishop, and his deacons, were led into the amphitheatre, the people began to mourn for Fructuosus, for he was greatly beloved, not by the brethren only, but also by the heathen. For he was a vessel of election and a teacher of the people. And when some, in brotherly charity, offered them a spiced cup to drink, he said, "The hour of breaking fast is not yet come." For it was the fourth hour, though indeed they had solemnly celebrated [Pg 314] the station (fast) on the fourth day (Wednesday) in the prison. Therefore joyously on the sixth day (Friday) they hastened to conclude this station (fast) with prophets and martyrs in Paradise. And when they had come to the amphitheatre, one, named Augustalis, a lector, ran to him, with tears, beseeching him to suffer him to unloose his shoes. But the blessed martyr said, "Stand aside, I can put off my own shoes." And when he had done so, our brother and fellow-soldier, Felix, went up to him, and took his right hand, asking him to remember him.[102] To him S. Fructuosus replied in a clear voice, so that all heard, "It behoves me to hold in mind the whole Catholic Church, extending from east to west." Then, as he was in the gate of the amphitheatre, ready to advance to his unfading crown, rather than to his pains, as the officers saw, and the brethren heard, and the Holy Spirit urged and spake, Fructuosus the Bishop, exclaimed, "A pastor will not be lacking to you, nor will the love and promises of the Lord fail, now or hereafter. This which ye behold is the infirmity of one hour." And when the bands wherewith their hands were tied had been burnt through, rejoicing, they cast themselves on their knees, sure of the resurrection, and having formed the sign of victory,[103] they poured forth their souls, praying to the Lord.

And when Fructuosus, the Bishop, and his deacons were brought into the amphitheater, the crowd began to grieve for Fructuosus because he was deeply loved, not just by his fellow believers, but also by non-believers. He was a chosen vessel and a teacher of the people. When some, out of brotherly kindness, offered them a spiced drink, he said, "The time for breaking my fast hasn’t come yet." It was the fourth hour, although they had solemnly observed the fast on the fourth day (Wednesday) in prison. So, joyfully on the sixth day (Friday), they rushed to finish this fast with prophets and martyrs in Paradise. When they arrived at the amphitheater, a lector named Augustalis ran to him, in tears, begging to help him take off his shoes. But the blessed martyr replied, "Step aside, I can take off my own shoes." After doing that, our brother and fellow soldier, Felix, approached him, took his right hand, and asked him to remember him. To him, St. Fructuosus replied in a clear voice, so that everyone could hear, "I must keep in mind the whole Catholic Church, from east to west." Then, as he stood at the gate of the amphitheater, ready to receive his eternal crown instead of suffering, as the officers observed, and the brethren heard, and the Holy Spirit urged him to speak, Fructuosus the Bishop exclaimed, "You will not lack a shepherd, nor will the love and promises of the Lord fail, now or in the future. What you see now is just the weakness of one hour." And when the ropes binding their hands were burned away, rejoicing, they fell to their knees, confident in the resurrection, and making the sign of victory, they poured out their souls, praying to the Lord.

The brethren, sad as if bereft of a shepherd, endured their solitude; not that they lamented Fructuosus, but rather they desired to be mindful of the faith and passion of each. When night came, they hastened to the amphitheatre with wine, with which to extinguish the charred bodies, which being done, they collected the ashes of the martyrs, and each carried away a portion. But neither in this did the marvellous works of the Lord fail; that the faith of the believers might be stimulated, and an example might be given to the little ones. After his passion, Fructuosus appeared to the brethren, and exhorted them to restore, without delay, what each had carried off of the ashes, out of love, that they might be laid altogether in one place.[104]

The brothers, feeling lost without a leader, dealt with their loneliness; it wasn’t that they mourned Fructuosus, but they wanted to remember the faith and passion of each other. When night fell, they rushed to the amphitheater with wine to put out the burnt bodies. Once that was done, they gathered the ashes of the martyrs and each took a portion home. Yet, even in this, the amazing works of the Lord continued; to strengthen the faith of the believers and to set an example for the younger ones. After his suffering, Fructuosus appeared to the brothers and urged them to return, without delay, what each had taken of the ashes, out of love, so they could be laid together in one place.[104]

Fructuosus in Spanish Frutos, in French Fruteux.

Fructuosus in Spanish Frutos, in French Fruteux.

Patron of Taragona.

Patron of Tarragona.

Relics, in the Benedictine monastery, near the Porto Fino, at Genoa; some portions, however, in the church of S. Montana, at Barcelona.

Relics, in the Benedictine monastery, near Portofino, at Genoa; some parts, however, in the church of S. Montana, at Barcelona.

S. PATROCLUS, M.

(about a.d. 272.)

(about A.D. 272.)

[From the Acts published by Bollandus, an early recension of the original Acts.]

[From the Acts published by Bollandus, an early version of the original Acts.]

When the Emperor Aurelian was in Gaul, he came to Troyes, and hearing that there was a Christian there, named Patroclus, he ordered him to be brought before him, when the following examination was had of him:—

When Emperor Aurelian was in Gaul, he visited Troyes and learned that there was a Christian named Patroclus there. He ordered Patroclus to be brought before him, and the following examination took place:—

Aurelian—"What is thy name?" He answered, "I am called Patroclus."

Aurelian—"What's your name?" He replied, "I go by Patroclus."

Aurelian—"What is thy religion, or, what God dost thou worship?"

Aurelian—"What is your religion, or which God do you worship?"

Patroclus—"I adore the living and true God, who inhabits heaven, and regards the humble, and knows all things or ever they are done."

Patroclus—"I worship the living and real God who lives in heaven, looks after the humble, and knows everything that happens."

Aurelian—"Give up this nonsense, and adore and serve our Gods, from whom you will derive honour and riches."

Aurelian—"Stop this nonsense, and worship and serve our Gods, from whom you will gain honor and wealth."

Patroclus—"I will adore only the true God, who made all things visible and invisible."

Patroclus—"I will worship only the one true God, who created everything seen and unseen."

Aurelian—"Dispute of those things which you say are true."

Aurelian—"Argue about the things you claim are true."

Patroclus—"Those things which I declare are true and probable; but I know why falsehood hates the truth."

Patroclus—"What I'm saying is true and likely; but I understand why lies fear the truth."

Aurelian—"I will burn you alive if you will not sacrifice to the gods."

Aurelian—"I will burn you alive if you don't sacrifice to the gods."

Patroclus—"I offer the sacrifice of praise, and myself as a living victim to God who has deigned to call me to martyrdom."

Patroclus—"I offer my praise as a sacrifice, along with myself as a living offering to God, who has seen fit to call me to martyrdom."

Then Aurelian commanded—"Put fetters on his feet, and hot manacles on his hands, and cudgel him on the back, and then shut him up in a privy cell, until I make up my mind what is to be done with him."

Then Aurelian ordered, "Put shackles on his feet, hot irons on his hands, beat him on the back, and then lock him up in a small cell until I decide what to do with him."

Then Patroclus was given into custody to one Elegius until the third day. And when he was brought forth again to be examined, Aurelian greeted him with, "Well, despiser, hast thou thought better of it, and art thou ready to sacrifice?"

Then Patroclus was handed over to a guy named Elegius until the third day. When he was brought back for questioning, Aurelian greeted him by saying, "So, despiser, have you changed your mind, and are you ready to make a sacrifice?"

Patroclus—"The Lord delivereth the souls of his servants, and will not forsake them that hope in Him. If thou desirest anything out of my treasures, I will freely give it thee, for, believe me, thou art poor."

Patroclus—"The Lord saves the souls of his servants and won't abandon those who hope in Him. If you want anything from my treasures, I'll gladly give it to you because, trust me, you are in need."

Aurelian—"I, poor!"

Aurelian—"I, broke!"

Patroclus—"Thou hast earthly wealth, but art poor in faith of our Lord Jesus Christ."

Patroclus—"You have material wealth, but you're lacking in faith in our Lord Jesus Christ."

Aurelian—"Enough of this. Our gods are mighty."

Aurelian—"That's enough. Our gods are powerful."

Patroclus—"Who are they?"

Patroclus—"Who are they?"

Aurelian—"First Apollo, the chief;[105] then Jove, the great god; and Diana, the mother of the gods."[106]

Aurelian—"First is Apollo, the leader; [105] then there's Jove, the mighty god; and Diana, the mother of all gods." [106]

Patroclus—"Why, how can they be almighty, when Apollo kept sheep for Admetus, and Jove died of a pain in his belly; and as for your Diana, every one knows she is the noon-tide demon."

Patroclus—"How can they be all-powerful when Apollo watched over Admetus's sheep, and Jupiter died from a stomach ache; and everyone knows your Diana is just a mid-day freak."

Then Aurelian, inflamed with rage, ordered Patroclus to be taken to a marshy place, and to be there executed. But when the soldiers led him to the bank of the Seine, which had overflowed, Patroclus escaped from them across the river, and took refuge on a hill dedicated to idol worship. Here a woman saw him, and she went straightway and told the soldiers. Then they came upon him, and smote off his head.

Then Aurelian, filled with anger, commanded that Patroclus be taken to a swampy area and executed there. But when the soldiers brought him to the flooded bank of the Seine, Patroclus managed to escape across the river and sought refuge on a hill dedicated to idol worship. A woman spotted him and immediately reported to the soldiers. They found him and beheaded him.

S. AGNES.

S. Patroclus in France is called S. Parre. He is one of the Patrons of Troyes.

S. Patroclus in France is called S. Parre. He is one of the Patrons of Troyes.

S. AGNES, V. M.

(about a.d. 303.)

(around A.D. 303.)

[Roman Martyrology, modern Anglican Kalendar, and Greek Menæa. The Greeks commemorate her on Jan. 14th, 21st, and July 5th. Her Acts, attributed to S. Ambrose, are a rhetorical recension of her genuine Acts. S. Ambrose refers to S. Agnes in lib. I. De Virginibus, and in his Commentary on Ps. civ., and in lib. I. c. 4 of his offices. There is also a hymn of Prudentius, relating the Acts of this famous martyr. The Acts are sufficiently elegant to be really by S. Ambrose, and are far superior in style to those of S. Sebastian, falsely attributed to him.]

[Roman Martyrology, modern Anglican Kalendar, and Greek Menæa. The Greeks commemorate her on January 14th, 21st, and July 5th. Her Acts, attributed to St. Ambrose, are a refined version of her authentic Acts. St. Ambrose references St. Agnes in book I of De Virginibus, in his Commentary on Psalm 104, and in book I, chapter 4 of his Offices. There’s also a hymn by Prudentius that recounts the story of this well-known martyr. The Acts are polished enough to genuinely be considered by St. Ambrose and are much better in style than those of St. Sebastian, which have been mistakenly attributed to him.]

S. Jerome says that the tongues and pens of all nations are employed in the praises of this Saint, who overcame both the cruelty of the tyrant, and the tenderness of her age, and crowned the glory of chastity with that of martyrdom.[107] S. Augustine observes that her name signifies chaste in Greek, and a lamb in Latin. She has been always looked upon in the Church as a special patroness of purity. We learn from S. Ambrose and S. Augustine, that she was only thirteen years old at the time of her death. She suffered in the persecution of Diocletian. Her riches and beauty excited one of the young nobles of Rome, the son of the prefect of the city, to attempt to gain her hand in marriage. To him she answered, "I am already engaged to one—to him alone I keep my troth."[108] And when he asked further, her answer was, "He has already pledged me to Him by his betrothal [Pg 318] ring, and has adorned me with precious jewels. He has placed a sign upon my brow that I should have no other lover but he. He has showed me incomparable treasures, which he has promised to give me if I persevere. Honey and milk have I drawn from His lips, and I have partaken of His body, and with His blood has he adorned my cheeks. His mother is a virgin, and His father knew not woman. Him the angels serve, His beauty sun and moon admire; by His fragrance the dead are raised, by His touch the sick are healed. His wealth never fails, and His abundance never grows less. For Him alone do I keep myself. To Him alone in true confidence do I commit myself. Whom loving I am chaste, whom touching I am clean, whom receiving I am a virgin."

S. Jerome says that the voices and writings of all nations celebrate this Saint, who triumphed over both the cruelty of the tyrant and the innocence of her youth, and combined the glory of purity with that of martyrdom.[107] S. Augustine notes that her name means chaste in Greek and lamb in Latin. The Church has always regarded her as a special patroness of purity. We learn from S. Ambrose and S. Augustine that she was only thirteen years old when she died. She suffered during the persecution of Diocletian. Her wealth and beauty attracted one of the young noblemen of Rome, the son of the city’s prefect, who tried to win her hand in marriage. She responded, "I am already engaged to someone—my loyalty is to him alone."[108] When he pressed further, she said, "He has pledged me with His betrothal ring and has adorned me with precious jewels. He has placed a mark upon my brow that I should have no other lover but Him. He has shown me incomparable treasures, which He has promised to give me if I remain steadfast. I have drawn honey and milk from His lips, and I have shared in His body, and His blood has adorned my face. His mother is a virgin, and His father knew no woman. The angels serve Him, sun and moon admire His beauty; by His fragrance the dead are raised, by His touch the sick are healed. His riches never run out, and His abundance never diminishes. For Him alone do I keep myself. To Him alone in true confidence do I surrender myself. Whom loving I am pure, whom touching I am clean, whom receiving I remain a virgin."

The youth repulsed, and filled with jealousy against the unknown lover, complained to the father of Agnes, who was much disturbed, doubting whether she were mad, or had given her heart to some one without his knowing it. By degrees it transpired that Agnes was a Christian. Thereupon Symphronius,[109] the governor, sent for her parents, and they, alarmed for her safety, urged her to submit, and marry the young man. She, however, constantly refused, declaring that she desired to remain a virgin. "Very well," said the Governor; "then become a vestal virgin, and serve the goddess in celibacy."

The young man, filled with jealousy towards the unknown lover, complained to Agnes's father, who became very worried, unsure whether she was mad or had secretly given her heart to someone. Gradually, it came out that Agnes was a Christian. As a result, Symphronius,[109] the governor, called for her parents, and they, concerned for her wellbeing, urged her to comply and marry the young man. However, she continually refused, insisting that she wanted to remain a virgin. "Alright," said the Governor; "then become a vestal virgin and serve the goddess in celibacy."

"Do you think," answered Agnes, "that if I have refused your living son, of flesh and blood, that I shall dedicate myself to gods of senseless stone?"

"Do you really think," Agnes replied, "that if I've turned down your living son, made of flesh and blood, I would dedicate myself to lifeless stone gods?"

"Be not headstrong," said Symphronius; "you are only a child, remember, though forward for your age."

"Don’t be so stubborn," said Symphronius; "you’re still just a kid, remember, even if you act older than you are."

"I may be a child," replied Agnes; "but faith dwells not in years, but in the heart."

"I might be a kid," Agnes replied, "but faith isn't about age; it's about what’s in your heart."

"I will tell you how I shall deal with you," cried Symphronius. "You shall be stripped, and driven naked into a house of ill-fame, to be subjected to insult and outrage." Then the clothes were taken off the slender body of the girl, and she was forced out into the street. In shame she loosened the band that confined her abundant hair, and let it flow over her body, and cover her. "You may expose my virtue to insult," said she to the prefect, "but I have the angel of God as my defence. For the only-begotten Son of God, whom you know not, will be to me an impenetrable wall, and a guardian never sleeping, and an unflagging protector."

"I'll show you how I'm going to handle you," Symphronius shouted. "You will be stripped and sent out naked into a brothel, to face insults and abuse." Then they removed the girl’s clothes, leaving her vulnerable in the street. Embarrassed, she let down her long hair to cover her body. "You may expose my virtue to insults," she said to the prefect, "but I have the angel of God to protect me. For the only Son of God, whom you do not know, will be an unbreakable wall for me, a guardian who never sleeps, and a relentless protector."

And so it was. For when she was placed in the brothel, the room was filled with light, and an angel brought her a robe, white as snow, to cover her nakedness. And also, when the governor's son burst in at the door in tumultuous exultation, the angel smote him, that he fell senseless on the ground.[110] Thereupon there was an uproar, and the people said, she had slain him by her enchantments. But when he was come to himself he was ashamed, and the governor feared. Therefore he committed the sentencing of Agnes to the deputy, Aspasius, who ordered that she should be immediately executed. And all the people rushed after her, crying, "Away with the witch, away with her!"

And that's how it happened. When she was brought to the brothel, the room was filled with light, and an angel gave her a robe, as white as snow, to cover her nakedness. Also, when the governor's son burst through the door in a loud celebration, the angel struck him, causing him to fall unconscious to the ground.[110] Then there was chaos, and the people said she had killed him with her sorcery. But once he came to his senses, he felt ashamed, and the governor was worried. So, he handed Agnes's sentencing over to the deputy, Aspasius, who ordered that she be executed immediately. And the crowd rushed after her, shouting, "Get rid of the witch, get rid of her!"

Then a fire was kindled, and Agnes was placed upon the pyre. But she, lifting up her hands in the midst of the fire, prayed, "O Father Almighty, who alone art to be worshipped, feared, and adored, I give Thee thanks for that through thy holy Son, I have escaped the threats of the profane tyrant, and with unstained footstep have passed over the filthy slough of lust; and now, behold, I come to Thee, whom I have loved, have sought, and have always longed for. Thy name I bless, I glorify, world without end."[111] And she continued, "So now I am bedewed with the Holy Ghost from on high; the furnace grows cold about me, the flame is divided asunder, and its heat is rolled back on them that quickened it. I bless Thee, O Father of my Lord Jesus Christ, who permittest me, intrepid, to come to Thee through the fires. Lo! what I have believed, that now I see; what I have hoped for, that now I hold; what I have desired, that now I embrace. I confess Thee with my lips, and with my heart, I altogether desire Thee. I come to Thee one and true God, who with our Lord Jesus Christ, thy Son, and with the Holy Ghost, livest and reignest through ages of ages. Amen." And when she had finished praying, the fire became wholly extinct; then Aspasius, the deputy, ordered a sword to be thrust into her throat. "But," said he suddenly, "why is she not bound?" The executioner turned over a quantity of manacles, and selected the smallest pair he could find, and placed them round her wrists. Agnes with a smile, shook her hands, and they fell, like S. Paul's viper, clattering at her feet.[112] Then she calmly knelt down, and with her own hands drew forward her hair, so as to expose her neck to the blow.[113] A pause ensued, for the executioner was trembling with emotion, and could not wield his sword.[114]

Then a fire was lit, and Agnes was placed on the pyre. But she, raising her hands amidst the flames, prayed, "O Almighty Father, who alone is to be worshipped, feared, and adored, I thank You that through Your holy Son, I have escaped the threats of the wicked tyrant and have walked through the filthy mire of lust with unblemished feet; and now, here I am coming to You, whom I have loved, sought, and always longed for. I bless Your name, I glorify You, forever and ever."[111] And she continued, "Now I am filled with the Holy Spirit from above; the furnace grows cold around me, the flame is split apart, and its heat rolls back on those who ignited it. I bless You, O Father of my Lord Jesus Christ, who allows me, fearless, to come to You through the flames. Look! What I have believed, now I see; what I have hoped for, now I hold; what I have desired, now I embrace. I acknowledge You with my lips, and with my heart, I altogether seek You. I come to You, the one true God, who with our Lord Jesus Christ, Your Son, and with the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns through ages of ages. Amen." And when she finished praying, the fire was completely extinguished; then Aspasius, the deputy, ordered a sword to be thrust into her throat. "But," he suddenly said, "why is she not bound?" The executioner rummaged through a pile of shackles, picked the smallest pair he could find, and put them around her wrists. Agnes smiled, shook her hands, and they fell off, like S. Paul's viper, clattering at her feet.[112] Then she calmly knelt down, and with her own hands pulled her hair forward to expose her neck for the strike.[113] There was a pause, as the executioner trembled with emotion and could not lift his sword.[114]

As the child knelt alone, in her white robe, with her head inclined, her arms crossed modestly upon her bosom, and her locks hanging to the ground, and veiling her features, she might not inaptly have been compared to some rare plant, of which the slender stalk, white as a lily, bent with the luxuriance of its golden blossom. "And thus, bathed in her rosy blood," said the author of the Acts, "Christ betrothed to Himself his bride and martyr."

As the child knelt alone in her white robe, head down and arms crossed gently over her chest, with her hair flowing to the ground and covering her face, she could easily be compared to a unique flower, with a slender stem as white as a lily, bending under the weight of its golden bloom. "And thus, bathed in her rosy blood," said the author of the Acts, "Christ betrothed to Himself his bride and martyr."

Then her parents, having no sorrow, but all joy, took her body, and placed it in a tomb on their farm, not far from the city, on the Numentan road. But there being a great crowd of Christians following, the pagan mob and soldiers pursued them, and drove them away with stones and weapons. But Emerentiana, who was the foster-sister of Agnes, a holy virgin, though only a catechumen, stood intrepid and motionless by the tomb, and there she was stoned to death.

Then her parents, filled with joy and no sorrow, took her body and placed it in a tomb on their farm, not far from the city, along the Numentan road. However, there was a large crowd of Christians following, and the pagan mob and soldiers chased them away, driving them off with stones and weapons. But Emerentiana, who was Agnes's foster sister and a holy virgin, despite being just a catechumen, stood fearless and still by the tomb, and there she was stoned to death.

After her death Agnes appeared in glory to her parents.

After her death, Agnes appeared in glory to her parents.

From the heavenly realms Surrounded by heavenly legions, Eight days later, she went home; And a lamb, the purest, Most beautiful, purest, brightest, She brought him in her loving arms.
"These you see, my mother" These, and many others, Are my blessed friends now?

Relics, in the church of S. Agnes, at Rome; portions at Utrecht; a few small particles at Rouen, in the church of S. Ouen; at Melun; in the Cathedral at Cologne; in the Court Chapel at Brussels; and in the Jesuit Church at Antwerp.

Relics in the church of S. Agnes in Rome; some pieces in Utrecht; a few small fragments in Rouen, in the church of S. Ouen; at Melun; in the Cathedral in Cologne; in the Court Chapel in Brussels; and in the Jesuit Church in Antwerp.

In art, she appears (1) with a lamb, or (2) with an angel protecting her, or (3) standing on a flaming pyre, or (4) with a sword.

In art, she appears (1) with a lamb, or (2) with an angel protecting her, or (3) standing on a flaming pyre, or (4) with a sword.

S. MEINRAD, H. M.

(a.d. 861.)

(A.D. 861.)

[Authority, an ancient anonymous and perfectly authentic life in the library of the monastery at Einsiedeln.]

[Authority, an old, anonymous, and entirely authentic account in the library of the Einsiedeln monastery.]

About the year of grace 797, was born Meinrad, Count [Pg 322] of Hohenzollern. He was born in that part of Swabia, then called Sulichgau, which comprised the valleys of Steinlach and Sturzel, and the towns of Rottenburg and Sülchen.

About the year 797, Meinrad, Count [Pg 322] of Hohenzollern was born. He was born in what was then known as Sulichgau in Swabia, which included the valleys of Steinlach and Sturzel, as well as the towns of Rottenburg and Sülchen.

Berthold, the father of Meinrad, had married the daughter of the Count of Sülchen, and lived with his wife in the strong castle of Sülchen on the Nekar.

Berthold, Meinrad's father, had married the daughter of the Count of Sülchen and lived with his wife in the strong castle of Sülchen on the Nekar.

Meinrad lived at home till he was ten or eleven years old. At that time the island of Reichenau possessed a Benedictine monastery of great reputation. This island is situated in the arm of the lake of Constance, called the Zeller-see, and very fertile. The monks superintended two schools in this island, connected with their monastery, one for the boys who were in training to be monks, the other for the sons of nobles, who desired to live in the world. At the time that Meinrad entered the school, his kinsman, Hatto of Sülchen, was abbot.

Meinrad lived at home until he was about ten or eleven years old. At that time, the island of Reichenau had a well-known Benedictine monastery. This island is located in the arm of Lake Constance known as Zeller See, and it’s very fertile. The monks oversaw two schools on the island that were associated with their monastery: one for boys training to be monks and the other for noble sons who wanted to live in the world. When Meinrad started school, his relative, Hatto of Sülchen, was the abbot.

At this period the great lesson that the monks had to teach the Germans was, the dignity of labour. The Germans were a turbulent people, loving war, harrying their neighbour's lands, hunting and fighting, despising heartily the work of tilling the land, and tending cattle. The monks began to labour with their hands, and by degrees they broke through the prejudices of the time, and converted the Germans into an agricultural people. In 818, when Meinrad was aged 21, the first vines were planted in Reichenau, to become, to this day, the principal source of revenue to those to whom it belongs. The position of Reichenau, on the main road to Italy, gave it a special importance. Many foreign bishops, who, halting there on their journeys, had carried away with them a pleasant memory of that quiet isle in the blue lake, returned to it to spend their last years in peace. Thus the Bishop Egino retired to Reichenau, and built there, in 799, the church of Our Lady, at the western extremity of the island, which still exists. At the time of the consecration of [Pg 323] this church, Meinrad was in the monastery school; this was in 816. Seven hundred monks, a hundred novices, and four hundred scholars assisted at the ceremony, and sang the grand psalms and Cœlestis urbs with wondrous effect.

During this time, the main lesson the monks had to teach the Germans was the value of hard work. The Germans were a restless people, fond of war, plundering their neighbors' lands, hunting, and fighting, and they looked down on farming and raising livestock. The monks started working with their hands, and gradually they changed the attitudes of the time, transforming the Germans into an agricultural society. In 818, when Meinrad was 21, the first vines were planted in Reichenau, which became, and still is, the main source of income for its owners. Reichenau's location on the main road to Italy made it particularly important. Many foreign bishops, who stopped there during their travels, left with fond memories of that peaceful island in the blue lake and returned to spend their later years in tranquility. Thus, Bishop Egino retired to Reichenau and built the church of Our Lady in 799 at the western end of the island, which still stands today. When this church was consecrated, Meinrad was at the monastery school in 816. Seven hundred monks, a hundred novices, and four hundred students attended the ceremony, singing the magnificent psalms and Cœlestis urbs with incredible impact.

The time came for Meinrad to leave school and decide on his career. The voice of his heart called him to the service of God, and he prepared for Holy Orders. In 821 he was ordained deacon, and shortly afterwards priest. He was fond of study; but the book that most charmed his imagination was the account of the Fathers of the Desert, by Cassian. The forms of these venerable hermits in their caves seemed to appear to him and beckon him on. The voice which had called him to the priesthood said to him, "Friend, go up higher," and he took vows as a monk in the abbey of Reichenau, to his great-uncle Erlebald, now superior, on the resignation of Hatto in 822. He was then aged twenty-five.

The day arrived for Meinrad to leave school and choose his career. His heart guided him towards serving God, so he prepared for Holy Orders. In 821, he was ordained as a deacon and soon after became a priest. He loved to study, but the book that captivated him the most was the account of the Desert Fathers by Cassian. The images of these revered hermits in their caves seemed to appear to him and urge him forward. The voice that had called him to the priesthood said, "Friend, aim higher," and he took vows as a monk at the abbey of Reichenau, under his great-uncle Erlebald, who was now the abbot, following Hatto's resignation in 822. He was twenty-five at the time.

At the upper extremity of the Lake of Zürich was the little cloister of Bollingen, dependant on that of Reichenau. It contained a prior and twelve brethren, who had established themselves in this wild neighbourhood, lost, as it were, among the mountains, to become the teachers of a neighbourhood buried in darkness. They established a school for the gentry and also for the serfs, in which they taught the boys what was suitable for their different stations in life. Being in want of a master for this school, they sent to the abbot of Reichenau for one. His choice fell on Meinrad, who was at once despatched to the humble priory, situated on the confines of civilization, to which the mountains and dense forests seemed to say, "Thus far and no further shalt thou go."

At the north end of Lake Zürich was the small monastery of Bollingen, which was part of the one in Reichenau. It had a leader and twelve brothers who had settled in this remote area, seemingly lost among the mountains, to become educators for a community shrouded in ignorance. They started a school for both the wealthy and the peasants, teaching the boys skills appropriate for their different social classes. In need of a teacher for this school, they reached out to the abbot of Reichenau for help. He chose Meinrad, who was immediately sent to the modest priory, located on the edge of civilization, where the mountains and dense forests seemed to warn, "This far and no further shall you go."

In his new situation, Meinrad drew upon himself general esteem and affection. His prudence in the direction of souls, his learning, and his modesty, endeared him to all.

In his new situation, Meinrad earned widespread respect and affection. His wisdom in guiding others, his knowledge, and his humility made him beloved by everyone.

Nevertheless, from the moment of his entering into the priory, Meinrad had felt a yearning in his heart for a life more secluded, in which he could pray and meditate without distraction. About two leagues off, beyond the lake, rose Mount Etzel, covered with dense forest. Often from the window of his cell did his eyes rest, with an invincible longing, on the blue mountain. The desire became, at length, so uncontrollable, that he resolved to visit the Etzel, and seek among its rocks for some place where he might pass his days in repose. One day, accordingly, he took with him one of his pupils, and, entering a boat, rowed to the foot of the desired mount. A few hours after he was at the summit, and his heart beat with a sweet joy at the sight of a place to which his yearning soul had long turned. Behind him was a pathless forest of pines, inhabited by wolves, but he feared them not. He descended the hill by the side of Rapperschwyl, and arrived at the village, called afterwards Altendorf. He rested at the house of a pious widow, who received him hospitably. To her Meinrad confided his design, and asked her to minister to his necessities on the Etzel, should he retire thither. She readily promised to do so. Having thanked her, he returned full of joy to Bollingen. He asked the prior to give him his benediction and permission to accomplish his project. He, with regret, permitted him to respond to the call of grace, and Meinrad at once tore himself from his companions and pupils, and crossed the lake to the beloved mountain. This was in June, 828, when Meinrad was aged thirty-one. He took nothing with him save his missal, a book of instructions on the Gospels, the rule of S. Benedict, and the works of Cassian. Burdened with these volumes, he climbed the Etzel, and stood on a commanding point. At his feet and before him lay the blue lake of Zürich, its waters sleeping in sunshine; behind him was the gloomy horror of the forest. Beyond, the Alpine [Pg 325] peaks wreathed in glaciers, glittering in the light, and around him a solemn silence, broken only by the distant scream of a magpie, or the creaking of the pines in the breeze.

Nevertheless, from the moment he entered the priory, Meinrad felt a deep yearning in his heart for a more secluded life, where he could pray and meditate without distractions. About two leagues away, across the lake, stood Mount Etzel, covered in dense forest. Often, from the window of his cell, he would gaze longingly at the blue mountain. The desire grew so strong that he decided to visit Etzel and search among its rocks for a place where he could spend his days in peace. One day, he took one of his students with him, and they got into a boat and rowed to the foot of the mountain. A few hours later, he reached the summit, and his heart swelled with joy at the sight of a place his longing soul had yearned for. Behind him lay a pathless forest of pines, inhabited by wolves, but he was not afraid of them. He made his way down the hill towards Rapperschwyl, arriving at a village that would later be called Altendorf. He rested at the home of a pious widow, who welcomed him warmly. Meinrad shared his plans with her and asked if she could help him with his needs on the Etzel when he decided to move there. She readily agreed. After thanking her, he returned to Bollingen full of happiness. He asked the prior for his blessing and permission to follow his calling. With a heavy heart, the prior allowed him to answer the call of grace, and Meinrad immediately separated from his companions and students, crossing the lake to the beloved mountain. This was in June 828, when Meinrad was thirty-one years old. He took nothing with him except his missal, a book of instructions on the Gospels, the rule of St. Benedict, and the works of Cassian. Burdened with these books, he climbed Mount Etzel and reached a high point. Below him lay the blue Lake Zurich, its waters calm in the sunlight; behind him was the dark, foreboding forest. Beyond that were the Alpine peaks covered in glaciers, sparkling in the light, and around him was a profound silence, broken only by the distant call of a magpie or the rustling of the pines in the breeze.

The first care of the new solitary was to provide himself with shelter against rain and storm. He collected broken boughs, and interlaced them between four pines that served as corner posts to his hovel, and roofed it in with fern. This was his first house; but shortly after, the widow, having heard that he had retired to the Etzel, built him a hut of pine logs, and a little chapel, in which he might offer the Holy Sacrifice. She attended to all his necessities, as she had promised, and Meinrad was now at the summit of happiness.

The first thing the new hermit did was make sure he had shelter from the rain and storms. He gathered broken branches and wove them between four pine trees that served as the corners of his little house, covering it with ferns. This was his first home; but soon after, the widow, hearing that he had gone to the Etzel, built him a hut made of pine logs and a small chapel where he could offer the Holy Sacrifice. She took care of all his needs, just as she had promised, and Meinrad was now at the peak of happiness.

Strange must have been those first evenings and nights in loneliness. There is a sense of mystery which oppresses the spirit when alone among the fragrant trees, that stand stiff and entranced, awaiting the coming on of night. To persons unaccustomed to the woods, few moments of greater solemnity could occur than those following the set of sun. A shadow falls over the forest, and in the deep winding tunnels that radiate among the grey, moss-hung trunks, the blackness of night condenses apace.

Strange must have been those first evenings and nights in loneliness. There’s a sense of mystery that weighs on the spirit when alone among the fragrant trees, standing still and mesmerized, waiting for night to fall. For those not used to the woods, few moments could feel more solemn than those right after sunset. A shadow covers the forest, and in the deep winding paths that weave among the grey, moss-covered trunks, the darkness of night thickens quickly.

Mysterious noises are heard; the rustling of large birds settling themselves for the night, the click of falling cones, the cry of the wild cat, or the howl of the wolf. The gold light, that all day has flickered through the boughs and diapered the spine strewn soil, has wholly disappeared, save that for a moment it lies a flake of fire on the distant snowy peak. Patches of ash-grey sky, seen through the interstices of the branches, diffuse no light. Perhaps an evening breeze whispers secrets among the pine-tops and pipes between the trunks, or hums an indistinct tune, pervading the whole air, among the green needle-like leaves of the firs. And then, when night has settled in, the moon shoots its fantastic [Pg 326] silver among the moving branches, and draws weird pictures over the brambles and uneven soil. Branches snap with a report like a pistol, and voices of unseen birds and beasts sound ghost-like among the dark aisles of the labyrinth of firs.

Mysterious sounds fill the air: the rustling of large birds getting comfortable for the night, the clattering of falling cones, the call of a wildcat, or the howl of a wolf. The golden light that has flickered through the branches all day has completely vanished, except for a brief moment when it looks like a spark of fire on the distant snowy peak. Patches of gray sky, visible through the gaps in the branches, provide no light. Maybe an evening breeze shares secrets among the treetops, whistles between the trunks, or hums a faint tune that fills the air among the green, needle-like leaves of the firs. And then, as night settles in, the moon casts its strange silver light among the moving branches, creating eerie shapes over the brambles and uneven ground. Branches snap with a sound like a gunshot, and the voices of unseen birds and animals echo like ghosts in the dark pathways of the labyrinth of firs.

It is well to picture these surroundings, when we call up before us the figures of the old hermits. Their trials were not only of hunger, and thirst, and cold; there was the trial of nerve as well.

It’s helpful to visualize these surroundings when we think of the old hermits. Their challenges weren’t just about hunger, thirst, and cold; they also faced tests of their nerves.

In the forest cell, Meinrad disciplined his body by rigorous fasts, and his soul by constant prayer. By degrees, his cabin became a resort of pilgrims, who arrived seeking ease to their troubled consciences, or illumination to their dark understandings. Always united to God, always penetrated with the sense of His presence, he strove to know the will of God, and to submit his own will wholly to that.

In the forest cabin, Meinrad trained his body through strict fasting and his soul through constant prayer. Gradually, his cabin became a refuge for pilgrims looking for relief from their troubled consciences or clarity for their confused minds. Always connected to God, always aware of His presence, he sought to understand God's will and to fully surrender his own will to it.

Seven years passed, and the number of those who visited him increased every day. Then, finding his solitude no more a solitude, he resolved to leave the Etzel, and bury himself in some nook far from the habitations of men.

Seven years went by, and more people came to visit him every day. Since his solitude was no longer solitary, he decided to leave the Etzel and retreat to a quiet place far away from where people lived.

Behind the Etzel extended a vast forest untrodden by man, whose savage and gloomy loneliness attracted Meinrad. Whilst he was musing on his projected flight, some of his old pupils at Bollingen came, as was their wont occasionally, to visit their former master. Meinrad descended the mountain with them to the point where the river Sihl, after numerous windings in the forest, flows gently through an agreeable valley, and empties itself into the lake. The pines on its banks were reflected in the glassy water, and in its crystal depths could be seen multitudes of trout. The young monks desiring to have a day's fishing, Meinrad crossed the river, and entered the forest. He walked on silent and meditating, looking around him, in hopes of discovering some place suitable for the purpose that occupied his mind. [Pg 327] After a walk of an hour and a half, in a southerly direction, he reached the foot of a range of hills which formed a semi-circle as far as the Alb. In this basin, enclosed within the arms of the mountain, wound a little stream over a bed of moss, from a spring beneath the roots of two large pines. To the south lay the valley of the Alb, blocked by the rugged snow-topped crags of the Mythen. This was just such a solitude as Meinrad had desired. He fell on his knees, and thanked God for having brought him to so pleasant a spot, and drinking for the first time from the fountain, he returned to his companions, who, having caught a bag full of fish, went back with him to his hermitage, and as evening fell, returned to Bollingen.

Behind the Etzel was a vast forest untouched by humans, its wild and gloomy solitude drawing Meinrad in. While he was contemplating his planned escape, some of his former students from Bollingen came to visit him, as they occasionally did. Meinrad went down the mountain with them to where the Sihl River, after meandering through the forest, gently flowed through a lovely valley and emptied into the lake. The pines along its banks were mirrored in the still water, and in the crystal depths, countless trout could be seen. The young monks wanted to spend the day fishing, so Meinrad crossed the river and entered the forest. He walked on quietly, deep in thought, scanning his surroundings for a place that would suit his purpose. [Pg 327] After walking for an hour and a half southward, he reached the foot of a range of hills that formed a semicircle extending as far as the Alb. In this basin, enclosed by the mountains, a small stream trickled over a mossy bed, originating from a spring beneath the roots of two large pines. To the south lay the valley of the Alb, obstructed by the rugged, snow-capped peaks of the Mythen. This was exactly the kind of solitude Meinrad had longed for. He knelt down and thanked God for leading him to such a beautiful place, and after drinking from the spring for the first time, he returned to his companions, who had caught a bag full of fish. Together they made their way back to his hermitage, and as evening fell, the young monks returned to Bollingen.

Meinrad now prepared to leave the Etzel. He went to Altendorf to thank the widow who had provided for him, and then he departed, taking with him one monk of Bollingen and a peasant, to carry such things as would be necessary in the wilderness. As they descended the hill towards the river, the brother saw a nest of ravens on a branch; he climbed the tree, and taking the nest, brought it along with the two young birds it contained to Meinrad, who kept them, to be the companions of his solitude.

Meinrad got ready to leave the Etzel. He went to Altendorf to thank the widow who had helped him, and then he left, taking with him one monk from Bollingen and a peasant to carry the essentials for the wilderness. As they went down the hill toward the river, the monk saw a raven's nest on a branch; he climbed the tree, took the nest, and brought it back with the two young birds inside to Meinrad, who kept them as companions in his solitude.

A few paces above the spring, where there was a gentle rise, he decided should be the site of his habitation, and there accordingly he erected a simple hut of logs. Providence did not desert him. The abbess Hedwig, head of a small community of women at Zürich, undertook to minister to his necessities, in place of the widow of Altendorf; and from time to time she sent him food, and such things as be needed.

A few steps above the spring, where there was a gentle slope, he decided would be the perfect spot for his home, and there he built a simple cabin out of logs. Luck was on his side. The abbess Hedwig, who led a small group of women in Zürich, took it upon herself to help meet his needs, instead of the widow from Altendorf; and from time to time, she sent him food and other essentials.

He was now left in complete solitude, and often the temptation came upon him, as he lay shivering with cold in the winter nights, and the snow drifted about his cabin, to give up this sort of life, and return to the community at [Pg 328] Bollingen or Reichenau. But he resisted these thoughts, as temptations of the evil one, with redoubled prayer and fasting. In this place he spent several years in perfect retirement, till a carpenter of Wollerau, coming there one day in quest of some wood, discovered his cell. After that, he was visited by hunters, and then, by degrees, a current of pilgrims flowed towards his abode, as had been the case on the Etzel. What added to this was the present of a statue of the Blessed Virgin and Child, made to Meinrad by Hildegard, daughter of Louis the German, who had been appointed by her father abbess of Zürich, in 853. This image speedily acquired the credit of being miraculous, and thus began that incessant pilgrimage which has continued for over a thousand years to the venerated shrine where it is preserved.

He was now completely alone, and often, as he lay shivering from the cold on winter nights with snow drifting around his cabin, he felt tempted to abandon this way of life and return to the community at [Pg 328] Bollingen or Reichenau. But he resisted these thoughts, seeing them as temptations from the evil one, and responded with even more prayer and fasting. He spent several years in complete seclusion until one day, a carpenter from Wollerau came looking for some wood and discovered his cell. After that, he received visits from hunters, and gradually, a stream of pilgrims began to flow to his home, much like what had happened on the Etzel. The situation was further enhanced by the gift of a statue of the Blessed Virgin and Child, given to Meinrad by Hildegard, the daughter of Louis the German, who had been appointed by her father as abbess of Zürich in 853. This statue quickly gained a reputation for miracles, and thus began the continuous pilgrimage that has lasted for over a thousand years to the revered shrine where it is kept.

Meinrad had spent twenty-five years in solitude; and his love for this mortified and retired life had grown stronger in his heart as he grew older. He was glad when winter, the frost, and the snow came to block the paths, and diminish the concourse of pilgrims; yet in spite of the rigour of the climate at that season, and the want of roads through the forest, he still saw many visitors, who came to confide to him their troubles, as children to a father, and to ask counsel of his prudence. There were also days in which he was alone, and, shut up in his log-hut, heard only the hissing of the wind among the trees, and the howling of the wolves, pressed by hunger in the forest; all was sad around the hermitage, the flowers, the grass, the little spring slept under the snow, spread like a white pall over dead nature. The two ravens, perched on a branch of pine which overhung the cabin door, uttered their plaintive croak. Meinrad alone was happy. He celebrated the Divine Mysteries, and holding in his hands the eternal Victim, offered himself, in conjunction with the sacrifice of Calvary; desiring earnestly that he might be found worthy to die the death of a martyr. [Pg 329] His prayer was heard.

Meinrad had spent twenty-five years in solitude, and his love for this mortified and secluded life had grown stronger in his heart as he got older. He was pleased when winter, the frost, and the snow came to block the paths and reduce the influx of pilgrims; yet despite the harshness of the climate during that season, and the lack of roads through the forest, he still saw many visitors who came to share their troubles with him, like children to a father, and to seek his wise counsel. There were also days when he was alone, and, shut in his log cabin, he could only hear the wind hissing through the trees and the howling of hungry wolves in the forest; everything around the hermitage was bleak, the flowers and grass were dormant, and the small spring lay under the snow, covered like a white shroud over dead nature. The two ravens, perched on a pine branch above the cabin door, let out their mournful croaks. Meinrad alone was happy. He celebrated the Divine Mysteries, and holding in his hands the eternal Victim, offered himself alongside the sacrifice of Calvary, earnestly wishing to be found worthy to die the death of a martyr. [Pg 329] His prayer was heard.

During the last years of Meinrad's life, pilgrims laid presents at the door of Meinrad, and before the image of Mary. Those that served to adorn the chapel he kept, the rest he gave away to the poor. Two men, one from the Grisons, named Peter, the other a Swabian, named Richard, suspecting that he had a store of money collected from the pilgrims, resolved on robbing him. They met in a tavern at Endigen, where now stands Rapperschwyl, where they spent the night. Next day, January 21st, 861, long before daybreak, they took the road to the Etzel and entered the forest. For a while they lost their way, for the paths were covered with snow. However, at length they discovered the hermitage. The ravens screamed at their approach, and fluttered with every token of alarm about the hut, so that, as the murderers afterwards confessed, they were somewhat startled at the evident tokens of alarm in the birds. The assassins reached the chapel door. S. Meinrad had said his morning prayers, and had celebrated mass. The murderers watched him through a crack in the door, and when he had concluded the sacrifice, and had turned from the altar, they knocked. Meinrad opened, and received them cheerfully. "My friends," said he; "had you arrived a little earlier, you might have assisted at the sacrifice. Enter and pray God and His Saints to bless you; then come with me and I will give you such refreshments as my poor cell affords." So saying he left them in the chapel, and went to prepare food in his own hut.

During the last years of Meinrad's life, pilgrims left gifts at his door and before the image of Mary. He kept the items that decorated the chapel and gave the rest to the poor. Two men, one named Peter from the Grisons and the other named Richard from Swabia, suspected that he had a stash of money collected from the pilgrims and planned to rob him. They met at a tavern in Endigen, now Rapperschwyl, where they spent the night. The next day, January 21st, 861, long before dawn, they took the road to the Etzel and entered the forest. They got lost for a while since the paths were covered in snow. Eventually, they found the hermitage. The ravens screamed as they approached and fluttered around the hut in alarm, which, as the murderers later admitted, made them feel a bit uneasy. The assassins reached the chapel door. S. Meinrad had finished his morning prayers and celebrated mass. The murderers watched him through a crack in the door, and when he had concluded the ritual and turned away from the altar, they knocked. Meinrad opened the door and greeted them warmly. "My friends," he said, "if you had arrived a little earlier, you could have attended the service. Come in and pray to God and His Saints to bless you; then come with me, and I'll offer you whatever refreshments my humble cell has." Saying this, he left them in the chapel and went to prepare food in his hut.

The murderers rushed after him, and he turned and said, smiling, "I know your intention. When I am dead, place one of these tapers at my head, and the other at my feet, and escape as quickly as you can, so as not to be overtaken."

The killers chased after him, and he turned and said, smiling, "I know what you plan to do. When I’m gone, put one of these candles at my head and the other at my feet, then get away as fast as you can, so you don’t get caught."

He gave to one his cloak and to the other his tunic; and they beat him about the head with their sticks, till he [Pg 330] fell dead at their feet. Then they threw his body on the bed of dried leaves whereon he was wont to sleep, and cast a rush mat over it. They then searched the hut for money, but found none. Before leaving, they remembered the request of Meinrad, and placed one of the tapers at his head, the other they took to the chapel, to light it at the ever-burning lamp. When they returned, to their astonishment, they saw that the candle at the head of the body was alight. Filled with a vague fear, they set down the other candle and took to flight. But the two faithful ravens pursued them, screaming harshly, and dashing against the heads of the murderers with their beaks and claws, as though desirous of avenging their master's death. Frightened more and more, and continually pursued and exposed to the attack of the enraged birds, the murderers ran towards Wollerau, where they met the carpenter who had discovered the retreat of Meinrad. This man, recognizing the tame ravens of the hermit, and suspecting mischief, hastily bade his brother not allow the two men to escape out of his sight, and then ran to the hermitage, where he found the body of the Saint. The candle at his feet had set fire to the mat, but the flame had expired as soon as it had reached the corpse. The carpenter at once returned to Wollerau, where he spread the news of the murder, and having bade his wife and some friends take care of the body of S. Meinrad, he went in pursuit of the assassins on the Zürich road. He soon overtook them. The ravens were fluttering with shrill screams at the windows of a house. He entered and denounced the murderers. They were taken, and delivered over to justice. By their confession all the circumstances of the martyrdom were made known.

He gave one person his cloak and the other his tunic; then they hit him over the head with their sticks until he fell dead at their feet. They threw his body onto the bed of dried leaves where he used to sleep and covered it with a rush mat. They searched the hut for money but found none. Before leaving, they remembered Meinrad's request and placed one of the candles at his head, taking the other to the chapel to light from the ever-burning lamp. When they returned, they were shocked to see that the candle at the head of the body was burning. Filled with a vague fear, they set down the other candle and fled. But the two loyal ravens chased after them, cawing loudly and attacking the murderers with their beaks and claws, as if trying to avenge their master's death. Terrified and constantly pursued by the furious birds, the murderers ran toward Wollerau, where they encountered the carpenter who had discovered Meinrad’s hiding place. This man recognized the tame ravens of the hermit and, suspecting trouble, quickly told his brother to keep an eye on the two men, then rushed to the hermitage where he found the body of the Saint. The candle at his feet had ignited the mat, but the flame had gone out as soon as it reached the corpse. The carpenter immediately returned to Wollerau, where he spread the news of the murder. After asking his wife and some friends to care for S. Meinrad's body, he went after the killers on the Zürich road. He soon caught up with them. The ravens were flapping around and squawking at the windows of a house. He entered and accused the murderers. They were captured and handed over to justice. Their confession revealed all the details of the martyrdom.

Relics, at Einsiedeln, where, in 1861, the thousandth anniversary of the Saint's death was celebrated with great pomp.

Relics, at Einsiedeln, where, in 1861, the thousandth anniversary of the Saint's death was celebrated with great fanfare.

FOOTNOTES:

[100] This account is a translation of the Acts; it is a very fair specimen of the original documents as written by the Church notaries at the time. The style being too simple to please the taste of later ages, too many of them were re-written in florid diction, and long speeches were put in the martyrs' mouths.

[100] This account is a translation of the Acts; it's a pretty accurate representation of the original documents created by the Church notaries at the time. The style was too straightforward to satisfy the preferences of later times, so many of them were rewritten in more elaborate language, with lengthy speeches added for the martyrs.

[101] One reading is insolutus, another in soleis.

[101] One interpretation is insolutus, another is in soleis.

[102] That is, to intercede for him when he, the martyr, stood in the presence of Christ in Paradise.

[102] That is, to speak up for him when he, the martyr, stood in front of Christ in Paradise.

[103] That is, extending their arms, so that they formed the symbol of the Cross.

[103] In other words, reaching out their arms to create the shape of the Cross.

[104] Slightly abbreviated from the Acts.

[104] A bit shortened from the Acts.

[105] Aurelian was a special votary of the sun.

[105] Aurelian was a devoted worshipper of the sun.

[106] There is some blunder here.

There’s a mistake here.

[107] S. Hieron, Ep. 6.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ S. Hieron, Ep. 6.

[108] S. August. Serm. 274.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ S. August. Serm. 274.

[109] Here a difficulty occurs. There is no such name in the lists of the prefects of the city. According to this account, he transferred to the deputy, Aspasius, the duty of sentencing her. In some accounts he is called Aspasius Paternus. A Paternus was prefect of the city in 264 and 265; an Ovinius Paternus in 281. Aspasius Paternus, pro-consul of Africa, in or about 260, is mentioned by S. Cyprian. It is probable that Symphronius was not prefect of the city, but a powerful senator, and that Aspasius is the same as Ovinius Paternus. Transcribers made havoc of the names in the Acts.

[109] Here’s where things get complicated. There’s no record of such a name in the lists of the city’s prefects. According to this account, he assigned the task of sentencing her to the deputy, Aspasius. In some accounts, he is referred to as Aspasius Paternus. A Paternus served as prefect of the city in 264 and 265, and an Ovinius Paternus was noted in 281. Aspasius Paternus, the pro-consul of Africa, around 260, is mentioned by S. Cyprian. It seems likely that Symphronius wasn’t the prefect of the city but rather a powerful senator, and that Aspasius is the same as Ovinius Paternus. Transcribers messed up the names in the Acts.

[110] Antiphon to Ps. cix. Dixit Dominus, for S. Agnes' Day, and Greek Menæa.

[110] Antiphon to Ps. 109. The Lord said, for St. Agnes' Day, and Greek Menæa.

[111] This is appointed as the antiphon to the Magnificat for S. Agnes' Day.

[111] This is designated as the antiphon for the Magnificat on St. Agnes' Day.

[112] Prudentius.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Prudentius.

[113] Ibid.

Ibid.

[114] S. Ambrose lib. I. De Virgin. c. 2.

[114] S. Ambrose book I. On Virgins. chapter 2.


January 22.

S. Vincent, D. M., at Saragossa, in Spain, a.d. 304.
SS. Vincent, Orontius, Victor, and Aquilina, MM., at Gerunda, in Spain, a.d. 304.
S. Blæsilla, W., at Rome, a.d. 383.
S. Gaudentius, B. of Novara, in Italy, circ. a.d. 418.
SS. Anastasius and Lxx. Companions, MM., in Assyria, a.d. 628.
S. Dominic, Ab. of Sora, in Italy, a.d. 1031.
S. Brithwald, B. of Wilton, in England, a.d. 1045.
B. Walter Van Bierbeeke, Monk, at Hemmerode, in Belgium, circ. a.d. 1220.

St. Vincent, Deacon, in Saragossa, Spain, A.D. 304.
Sts. Vincent, Orontius, Victor, and Aquilina, Martyrs, in Gerunda, Spain, A.D. 304.
St. Blæsilla, Virgin, in Rome, A.D. 383.
St. Gaudentius, Bishop of Novara, Italy, around A.D. 418.
Sts. Anastasius and 70 Companions, Martyrs, in Assyria, A.D. 628.
St. Dominic, Abbot of Sora, Italy, A.D. 1031.
St. Brithwald, Bishop of Wilton, England, A.D. 1045.
Blessed Walter Van Bierbeeke, Monk, in Hemmerode, Belgium, around A.D. 1220.

S. VINCENT, D. AND M.

(a.d. 304.)

(A.D. 304.)

[All Western Martyrologies, and by the Greeks on the same day, and Nov. 11th. The Acts, very ancient, quoted by Metaphrastes, are a very early recension of the original Acts by the notaries of the Church. Also, a hymn of Prudentius.]

[All Western Martyrologies, along with the Greeks on the same day, and Nov. 11th. The Acts, which are very old and referenced by Metaphrastes, represent an early version of the original Acts created by the Church's notaries. Also, there's a hymn by Prudentius.]

T.

his most illustrious martyr of the Spanish Church was born at Saragossa in Arragon, the mother of martyrs, as Prudentius calls it. His parents are mentioned in his Acts, which are at least older than S. Augustine (August 28), in whose time they were publicly read in the church of Hippo. The name of his father was Eutychius; and his mother, Enola, was a native of Osca, or Huesca, which sometimes claims the honour of his birth. He was trained in the discipline of the Christian faith by Valerius, Bishop of Saragossa, and was in due time ordained to the office of deacon. The Bishop was a man of venerable piety, but laboured under an impediment in his speech. He therefore devoted himself to prayer and contemplation, and intrusted the care of teaching to S. Vincent, whom he also appointed his principal or archdeacon. Dacian was then Governor of Spain under Diocletian and Maximian, [Pg 332] and had already distinguished himself by his cruelty against the Christians. The imperial edict for the seizure of the clergy had just been published in the end of the year 303, in which the laity were not included until the following year. Valerius and his deacons were accordingly loaded with chains and carried to Valencia, where the Governor then was. The pains of hunger were added to their sufferings, in the hope of subduing their fortitude. When they were brought before Dacian he first tried the effect of mild language and promises of reward if they would obey the orders of the Emperors and sacrifice to the gods. He reminded Valerius of the influence which his episcopal dignity gave him; and to Vincent he represented the honour of his family, and the sweet joys of youth which still lay before him. But the confessors of Christ were not to be thus moved. Valerius, being unable from his infirmity to reply to the artful persuasions of the tempter, Vincent made a noble profession of the faith in the name of them both.

his most renowned martyr of the Spanish Church was born in Saragossa, Aragon, the mother of martyrs, as Prudentius calls it. His parents are mentioned in his Acts, which are at least older than St. Augustine (August 28), at the time of whose life they were publicly read in the church of Hippo. His father was named Eutychius; and his mother, Enola, was from Osca, or Huesca, which sometimes claims the honor of his birth. He was trained in the Christian faith by Valerius, Bishop of Saragossa, and was eventually ordained as a deacon. The Bishop was a man of deep piety but had a speech impediment. He therefore dedicated himself to prayer and contemplation, entrusting the teaching to St. Vincent, whom he also appointed as his principal or archdeacon. Dacian was the Governor of Spain under Diocletian and Maximian, [Pg 332] and had already made a name for himself with his cruelty against Christians. The imperial decree for the arrest of the clergy had just been issued at the end of 303, with the laity not being included until the following year. Valerius and his deacons were thus shackled and taken to Valencia, where the Governor was at the time. The agony of hunger was added to their suffering, hoping to break their spirit. When they were brought before Dacian, he initially tried gentle words and promised rewards if they would comply with the Emperors' orders and sacrifice to the gods. He reminded Valerius of the influence of his role as bishop; and to Vincent, he highlighted the honor of his family and the delightful joys of youth that still awaited him. But the confessors of Christ could not be swayed. Valerius, unable to respond to the clever temptations of Dacian due to his infirmity, had Vincent boldly profess their faith in their name.

The Bishop was condemned to exile, where he seems afterwards to have finished his course by martyrdom; and Vincent was remanded to prison, thence to pass by a more painful but a speedier way to his crown. His body was stretched upon the rack and cruelly torn with iron hooks, but no torture could shake his resolution or disturb the calm which sat upon his countenance. He defied the utmost efforts of his tormentors; and, when they began to grow weary, Dacian ordered them to be beaten, suspecting that they spared the martyr. But the Governor himself was at last moved to a faint pity by the miserable spectacle, and entreated Vincent to purchase his deliverance by at least giving up the Christian books. Vincent, still continuing firm, was taken from the rack and led to a more terrible torture called the Question. It was an iron frame with bars running across it, sharp as scythes, and underneath a fire was kindled, [Pg 333] which made the whole frame red hot. To this fearful agony the martyr walked with a willing step, and even went before the executioners. And, as he lay bound upon the bed of torture, his eyes were fixed on heaven, his lips moved as if in prayer, and a peaceful smile would sometimes pass across his countenance. No cruelty was spared that diabolical ingenuity could invent, but the love of Christ surpassed the wrath of man and won the day. When the malice of his enemies could do no more, he was carried back to prison, and laid in a dark dungeon strewn with broken potsherds, which allowed his wounded body no rest. His feet, too, were fastened in the stocks. But God was mindful of His servant, and sent His angels to comfort him, bestowing a foretaste of his reward while his trial was as yet unfinished. His cell was illuminated with the light of heaven, his bonds were loosed, and the floor of his prison seemed to be strewn with flowers. The martyr and his celestial visitants sang hymns together, and the unwonted sound astonished the jailer. He looked into the cell, and, overpowered by what he saw and heard, confessed the power of God and the truth of the Christian faith. When Dacian heard of it he shed tears of rage; but, finding it was useless to continue his cruelty, he gave orders that some repose should be allowed to the martyr. His motives for this act of clemency are variously represented; perhaps he only meant to recruit the strength of Vincent that he might endure further tortures; or perhaps he feared that, if he expired under them, the Christian faith might be exalted in the eyes of the people by his constancy. But, whatever was the policy of Dacian, God overruled it to obtain for His blessed servant an easy departure. The scattered remnant of Christians gathered round him, and tended him with anxious care. They provided a soft bed, on which he was no sooner laid than he yielded up his soul to the Lord, on January 22, a.d. 304. The rage of the Governor followed his poor remains. His [Pg 334] body was cast out into a field to become the prey of wild beasts and birds; but was defended by a raven. Then, to add further indignities to it, it was taken out in a boat and thrown into the sea with a mill-stone about the neck. During the night it was washed ashore, and at last was privately buried by some good Christians in a humble chapel near Valencia. When the fury of the persecution had ceased, it was removed with great honour, and buried under the altar of the principal church.

The Bishop was exiled, where he seemed to have completed his journey with martyrdom; meanwhile, Vincent was sent back to prison, destined for a more painful but quicker route to his reward. His body was stretched on the rack and brutally torn with iron hooks, yet no torture could shake his determination or disturb the calm on his face. He stood firm against all his tormentors' efforts, and when they grew tired, Dacian ordered them to be beaten, suspecting they were going easy on the martyr. Eventually, even the Governor felt a hint of pity at the terrible sight and pleaded with Vincent to save himself by at least abandoning the Christian books. Vincent, remaining steadfast, was taken from the rack and led to a more horrific form of torture called the Question. It was an iron frame with sharp bars running across, while a fire was lit beneath it, making the entire frame red hot. The martyr approached this dreadful agony willingly, leading the executioners. As he lay bound on the torture bed, his eyes were fixed on heaven, his lips moved as if in prayer, and a peaceful smile occasionally crossed his face. No cruelty was spared that wicked ingenuity could devise, but the love of Christ outweighed human wrath and prevailed. When the malice of his enemies could do no more, he was taken back to prison and laid in a dark dungeon filled with broken potsherds, allowing his wounded body no rest. His feet were also locked in stocks. But God remembered His servant and sent angels to comfort him, giving him a glimpse of his reward while his trials were not yet over. His cell was lit with heavenly light, his bonds were loosened, and the floor of his prison seemed to be covered with flowers. The martyr and his angelic visitors sang hymns together, and the unusual sound amazed the jailer. He looked into the cell and, overwhelmed by what he saw and heard, acknowledged God's power and the truth of the Christian faith. When Dacian heard this, he was filled with rage, but finding it useless to continue his cruelty, he ordered the martyr to be given some rest. His reasons for this act of mercy are interpreted in various ways; perhaps he intended to let Vincent regain strength for further torture, or maybe he feared that if Vincent died under the torture, the Christian faith would be elevated in the eyes of the people due to his steadfastness. But whatever Dacian's intentions were, God turned it into a chance for His blessed servant to pass away peacefully. The remaining Christians gathered around him, caring for him deeply. They provided a soft bed, and as soon as he lay down, he surrendered his soul to the Lord on January 22, AD 304. The Governor's rage pursued his lifeless body. His remains were tossed into a field to be consumed by wild animals and birds, but a raven protected it. To further insult it, it was taken out on a boat and thrown into the sea with a millstone around its neck. During the night, it washed ashore and was eventually buried secretly by some devout Christians in a modest chapel near Valencia. Once the persecution subsided, it was moved with great honor and buried under the altar of the main church.

S. GAUDENTIUS, B. OF NOVARA.

(about a.d. 418.)

(circa A.D. 418.)

[From his life by an anonymous writer in, or about, 760; quite trustworthy.]

[From his life by an anonymous writer around 760; highly reliable.]

Gaudentius was a native of Ivrea (Eporœdia), under the shadows of the Alps; he was brought up as a Christian, and exhibited early indications of piety. On reaching man's estate he went to Novara, was ordained priest, and became so distinguished for his sanctity, that S. Ambrose visited him. When Constantius, the Arian Emperor, exiled S. Eusebius, the Catholic Bishop of Vercelli, Gaudentius went into exile with him; on his return he was elected to the episcopal throne of Novara.

Gaudentius was from Ivrea (Eporœdia), right under the Alps. He grew up as a Christian and showed signs of devotion early on. As a man, he moved to Novara, was ordained as a priest, and became so well-known for his holiness that St. Ambrose came to see him. When Constantius, the Arian Emperor, exiled St. Eusebius, the Catholic Bishop of Vercelli, Gaudentius chose to go into exile with him. Upon their return, he was elected to be the bishop of Novara.

S. ANASTASIUS THE PERSIAN, AND LXX. COMPANIONS, MM. IN ASSYRIA.

(a.d. 628.)

(A.D. 628.)

[Commemorated by Greeks and Westerns. His Acts are genuine, having been written either by the monk commissioned to attend him during his passion, or from his dictation. These Acts were referred to in the 7th General Council, 180 years after his death.]

[Remembered by Greeks and Westerners. His Acts are genuine, written either by the monk who was with him during his suffering or based on his dictation. These Acts were referenced in the 7th General Council, 180 years after his death.]

There lived in Rages, in Persia, at the time when the true [Pg 335] Cross fell into the hands of Chosroës, King of Persia, a.d. 614, a young man, named Magundat, the son of a Magian of rank. The capture of the Cross was famed all through Persia, and Magundat was led by curiosity to enquire about it of some Christians. Thus he learned the history of the Passion of Jesus Christ, and the doctrine of the Redemption. It left a deep impression on his mind. He was soon after called to serve in the army that marched under Sarbar through the north of Asia Minor to Chalcedon, but on his retreat, Magundat left the army, and visited Hierapolis in Syria. In that city he lodged with a Persian Christian, a silversmith, with whom he often went to the Christian Church. There he contemplated the pictures of saints glorified on golden grounds, and martyrs in their agonies, and asked about them. His curiosity was satisfied, and being greatly moved by what he heard, he felt a desire to visit those holy places where Christ had been born and where he had died, as he had seen painted on the walls of the Church of the Martyrs in Hierapolis. Therefore he went to Jerusalem, and he lodged there also in the house of a smith, who was a Christian; and to him he opened his heart, and related how he had been led to desire baptism, and a right to the Resurrection of the Just. He was, therefore, placed under instruction, and was afterwards baptized by Modestus, "vicar of the Apostolic seat," as he is called in the Acts, who governed Jerusalem, Zachary the patriarch being in captivity. He prepared himself for the Holy Sacrament with great devotion, and spent the octave after it—which persons baptized passed in white garments—in continuous prayer. At his baptism he took the name of Anastasius, thereby meaning, in Greek, his resurrection to a new life.

In Rages, Persia, around the time when the true [Pg 335] Cross was seized by Chosroës, the King of Persia, A.D. 614, there lived a young man named Magundat, who was the son of a high-ranking Magian. The news of the Cross's capture spread throughout Persia, and Magundat, curious about it, decided to ask some Christians for information. This inquiry led him to learn about the story of Jesus Christ’s Passion and the concept of Redemption, which profoundly impacted him. Soon after, he joined the army led by Sarbar, marching through northern Asia Minor to Chalcedon, but when they retreated, Magundat left the military and traveled to Hierapolis in Syria. There, he stayed with a Persian Christian who was a silversmith, and he frequently attended the Christian Church with him. He was captivated by the paintings of saints on golden backgrounds and martyrs in their sufferings, prompting him to ask about them. His curiosity was satisfied, and deeply moved by the stories he heard, he yearned to visit the holy sites where Christ had been born and where he had died, as depicted on the walls of the Church of the Martyrs in Hierapolis. Consequently, he went to Jerusalem, where he also stayed with a Christian smith. He confided in him about his desire for baptism and the hope of the Resurrection of the Just. As a result, he received instruction and was later baptized by Modestus, referred to in the Acts as the "vicar of the Apostolic seat," who was overseeing Jerusalem while Zachary the patriarch was in captivity. He prepared for the Holy Sacrament with sincere devotion and spent the week following his baptism—known as the period when newly baptized individuals wore white garments—in constant prayer. At his baptism, he chose the name Anastasius, which signifies his resurrection to a new life in Greek.

After his baptism, the more perfectly to keep inviolably his baptismal vows and obligations, he resolved on becoming [Pg 336] a monk in a monastery five miles from Jerusalem. Justin, the abbot, made him first learn the Greek tongue and the psalter; then cutting off his hair, gave him the monastic habit, in the year 620.

After his baptism, to better uphold his baptismal vows and responsibilities, he decided to become a monk in a monastery five miles from Jerusalem. Justin, the abbot, had him first learn Greek and the psalter; then, after cutting off his hair, he gave him the monastic robe in the year 620.

Anastasius was always most earnest in all spiritual duties, especially in assisting at the celebration of the Divine Mysteries. His favourite reading was the lives of the saints; and when he read the triumphs of the martyrs, his eyes overflowed with tears, and he longed to be found worthy to share their glory. Being tormented with the memory of the superstitious and magical rites, which his father had taught him, he was delivered from that troublesome temptation by discovering it to his director, and by his advice and prayers. After seven years spent in great perfection in this monastery, his desire of martyrdom daily increasing, and having been assured by a revelation that his prayers for that grace were heard, he left that house, and visited the places of devotion in Palestine, at Diospolis, Gerizim, and Our Lady's church at Cæsarea, where he stayed two days. This city, with the greatest part of Syria, was then subject to the Persians. The Saint, seeing certain Persian soothsayers of the garrison occupied in their abominable superstitions in the streets, boldly spoke to them, remonstrating against the impiety of such practices. The Persian magistrates apprehended him as a suspected spy; but he informed them that he had once enjoyed the dignity of Magian amongst them, but had renounced it to become a humble follower of Christ. Upon this confession he was thrown into a dungeon, where he lay three days without eating or drinking, till the return of Marzabanes, the governor, to the city. When interrogated by him, he confessed his conversion to the faith. Marzabanes commanded him to be chained by the foot to another criminal, and his neck and one foot to be also linked together by a [Pg 337] heavy chain, and condemned him, in this condition, to carry stones. The Persians, especially those of his own province, and his former acquaintance, upbraided him with having disgraced his country, kicked and beat him, plucked his beard, and loaded him with burdens above his strength.

Anastasius was always very dedicated to spiritual duties, especially in attending the celebration of the Divine Mysteries. His favorite books were the lives of the saints, and when he read about the triumphs of the martyrs, he would cry and long to be worthy of sharing in their glory. Tormented by memories of the superstitious and magical rituals his father had taught him, he found relief from this troubling temptation by confessing it to his spiritual director, who advised and prayed for him. After spending seven years in great devotion at the monastery, his desire for martyrdom grew daily, and after receiving a revelation that his prayers were answered, he left the monastery to visit holy places in Palestine, including Diospolis, Gerizim, and Our Lady's church at Caesarea, where he stayed for two days. At that time, this city and most of Syria were under Persian control. The saint saw some Persian soothsayers from the garrison practicing their disgusting superstitions in the streets, and he boldly confronted them, calling out the impiety of their actions. The Persian authorities arrested him, suspecting him of being a spy; he informed them that he had once held the title of Magian among them but had given it up to become a humble follower of Christ. As a result of this confession, he was thrown into a dungeon, where he spent three days without food or water until Marzabanes, the governor, returned to the city. When questioned by him, he admitted to his conversion to the faith. Marzabanes ordered him to be shackled by the foot to another prisoner, with his neck and one foot also linked together by a heavy chain, and sentenced him to carry stones in that condition. The Persians, especially those from his own region and former acquaintances, mocked him for bringing shame to his country, kicked and beat him, pulled out his beard, and burdened him with weights beyond his strength.

The Governor sent for him a second time, but could not induce him to pronounce the impious words which the Magians used in their superstitions; "For," said he, "the wilful calling of them to remembrance defiles the heart." The judge then threatened he would write immediately to the king, if he did not comply. "Write what you please," said the Saint, "I am a Christian: I repeat it again, I am a Christian." Marzabanes commanded him to be forthwith beaten with knotty clubs. The executioners were preparing to bind him fast to the ground; but the Saint told them it was unnecessary, for he had courage enough to lie down under the punishment without moving, and he regarded it as his greatest happiness to suffer for Christ. He only begged leave to put off his monk's habit, lest it should be treated with that contempt which only his body deserved. He therefore laid it aside respectfully, and then stretched himself on the ground, and, without being bound, remained all the time of the cruel torment, bearing it without changing his posture.

The Governor called for him again, but couldn’t get him to say the disrespectful words that the Magians used in their superstitions. “Because,” he said, “deliberately remembering them taints the heart.” The judge then threatened to write to the king right away if he didn’t comply. “Write whatever you want,” the Saint replied, “I am a Christian: I’ll say it again, I am a Christian.” Marzabanes ordered that he be beaten with heavy clubs. The executioners were getting ready to tie him down to the ground, but the Saint told them it wasn’t necessary because he had enough courage to lie down and endure the punishment without moving. He considered it his greatest joy to suffer for Christ. He only asked to take off his monk’s robe so it wouldn’t be treated with the disrespect that only his body deserved. He then respectfully set it aside and stretched himself on the ground, remaining there throughout the painful ordeal, enduring it without changing his position.

The Governor again threatened him to acquaint the king with his obstinacy. "Whom ought we rather to fear," said Anastasius, "a mortal man, or God, who made all things out of nothing?" The judge pressed him to sacrifice to fire, and to the sun and moon. The Saint answered, he could never acknowledge as gods creatures which God had made only for the use of man; upon which he was remanded to prison.

The Governor once again threatened him, saying he would inform the king about his stubbornness. "Who should we fear more," asked Anastasius, "a human or God, who created everything from nothing?" The judge urged him to make sacrifices to fire, the sun, and the moon. The Saint replied that he could never accept as gods things that God made only for human use; as a result, he was sent back to prison.

His old abbot, hearing of his sufferings, sent two monks to assist him, and ordered prayers to be offered daily for him. [Pg 338] The confessor, after carrying stones all the day, spent the greatest part of the night in prayer, to the surprise of his companions; one of whom, a Jew, saw and showed him to others at prayer in the night, shining in brightness and glory like a blessed spirit, and angels praying with him. As the confessor was chained to a man condemned for a public crime, he prayed always with his neck bowed downwards, keeping his chained foot near his companion, not to disturb him.

His old abbot, hearing about his suffering, sent two monks to help him and arranged for daily prayers to be said for him. [Pg 338] The confessor, after carrying stones all day, spent most of the night in prayer, surprising his companions. One of them, a Jew, noticed him and pointed him out to others praying at night, glowing with brightness and glory like a blessed spirit, with angels praying alongside him. Since the confessor was chained to a man sentenced for a public crime, he always prayed with his head bowed down, keeping his chained foot near his companion so as not to disturb him.

Marzabanes, in the meantime, having informed Chosroës, and received his orders, acquainted the martyr by a messenger, without seeing him, that the king would be satisfied if he would by word of mouth abjure the Christian faith: after which he might choose whether he would be an officer in the king's service, or still remain a Christian and a monk; adding he might in his heart always adhere to Christ, provided he would but for once renounce Him in words privately, in his presence, "in which there could be no harm, nor any great injury to his Christ," as he said. Anastasius answered firmly, that he would never even seem to dissemble, or to deny his God. Then the Governor told him that he had orders to send him bound into Persia to the king. "There is no need of binding me," said the Saint: "I go willingly and cheerfully to suffer for Christ." The Governor put on him and on two other prisoners the mark, and gave orders that they should set out after five days. In the meantime, on the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, the 14th of September, at the request of the Commerciarius, or tax-gatherer for the king, who was a Christian of distinction, Anastasius had leave to go to the church and assist at the Divine Sacrifice. His presence and exhortations encouraged the faithful, excited the lukewarm to fervour, and moved all to tears. He dined that day with the Commerciarius, and then returned with joy to his prison. On the day appointed, the martyr [Pg 339] left Cæsarea in Palestine, with two other Christian prisoners, under a strict guard, and was followed by one of the monks whom the abbot had sent to assist and encourage him. The Acts of his martyrdom were written by this monk, or at least from what he related by word of mouth. The Saint received great marks of honour, much against his inclination, from the Christians, wherever he came. This made him fear lest human applause should rob him of his crown, by infecting his heart with pride. He wrote from Hierapolis, and again from the river Tigris to his abbot, begging the prayers of his brethren.

Marzabanes, meanwhile, informed Chosroës and received his orders. He sent a message to the martyr, without meeting him, stating that the king would be satisfied if he verbally renounced the Christian faith. After that, he could decide whether to serve as an officer in the king's court or remain a Christian and a monk. He added that he could always remain devoted to Christ in his heart, as long as he privately denied Him once in front of the king, claiming there would be no harm or serious injury to Christ in doing so. Anastasius responded resolutely, saying he would never even pretend to deny his God. The Governor then told him he had orders to send him bound to Persia for the king. "There’s no need to bind me," the Saint replied. "I willingly and cheerfully go to suffer for Christ." The Governor marked him and two other prisoners and ordered them to depart in five days. Meanwhile, on the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, September 14th, at the request of the Commerciarius, or tax collector for the king, who was a notable Christian, Anastasius was given permission to go to church and attend the Divine Sacrifice. His presence and encouragement uplifted the faithful, stirred the indifferent to fervor, and brought tears to everyone. He dined that day with the Commerciarius and then joyfully returned to his prison. On the appointed day, the martyr [Pg 339] left Cæsarea in Palestine, accompanied by two other Christian prisoners under strict guard, followed by one of the monks sent by the abbot to support and encourage him. This monk wrote the records of his martyrdom, or at least gathered them from his spoken accounts. The Saint received much honor from Christians at every place he visited, which worried him that human praise might take away his reward by filling his heart with pride. He wrote from Hierapolis and again from the Tigris River to his abbot, asking for the prayers of his fellow monks.

Having reached Barsaloe in Assyria, six miles from Discartha or Dastagerde, near the Euphrates, where the king then was, the prisoners were thrown into a dungeon, till his pleasure was known. An officer came from Chosroës to interrogate the Saint, who made answer, touching his magnificent promises: "My religious habit and poor clothes show that I despise from my heart the gaudy pomp of the world. The honours and riches of a king, who must shortly die himself, are no temptation to me." Next day the officer returned to the prison, and endeavoured to intimidate him by threats and reproaches. But the Saint said calmly, "My lord judge, do not give yourself so much trouble about me. By the grace of Christ I am not to be moved: so execute your pleasure without more ado." The officer caused him to be unmercifully beaten with staves, after the Persian manner, insulting him all the time, and often repeating, that because he rejected the king's bounty, he should be treated in that manner every day, as long as he lived. This punishment was inflicted on him three days; on the third, the judge commanded him to be laid on his back, and a heavy beam pressed down by the weight of two men on his legs, crushing the flesh to the very bone. The martyr's tranquility and patience astonished the officer, who went again [Pg 340] to acquaint the king with his behaviour. In his absence the jailer, a Christian, gave every one free access to the martyr. The Christians immediately filled the prison; every one sought to kiss his feet or chains, and kept as relics whatever had been sanctified by their touch. The Saint, with confusion and indignation, strove to hinder them, and expressed his dissatisfaction at their proceedings. The officer, returning from the king, caused him to be beaten again, which the confessor bore rather as a statue than as flesh and blood. Then he was hung up for two hours by one hand, with a great weight at his feet, and tampered with by threats and promises. The judge, despairing to overcome him, went back to the king for his last orders, which were, that Anastasius and all the Christian captives should be put to death. He returned speedily to put these orders into execution, and caused the two companions of Anastasius, with threescore and eight other Christians, to be strangled one after another, on the banks of the river, before his face, the judge all the time pressing them to return to the Persian worship, and to escape so disgraceful a death. Anastasius, with his eyes lifted up to heaven, gave thanks to God for bringing his life to so happy a conclusion; and said he expected that he should have met with a more cruel death, by the torture of all his members; but seeing that God granted him one so easy, he embraced it with joy. He was accordingly strangled, and when dead, his head was struck off. This was in the year 628, the seventeenth of the Emperor Heraclius. His body, along with the rest of the dead, was exposed to be devoured by dogs, but it was the only one they left untouched.

Having arrived at Barsaloe in Assyria, six miles from Discartha or Dastagerde, near the Euphrates, where the king was at the time, the prisoners were thrown into a dungeon until the king decided their fate. An officer came from Chosroës to question the Saint, who responded regarding his grand promises: "My religious robe and simple clothing show that I truly disdain the flashy extravagance of the world. The honors and riches of a king, who will soon face death himself, do not tempt me." The next day, the officer returned to the prison and tried to intimidate him with threats and insults. But the Saint calmly said, "My lord judge, there's no need for you to worry about me. Thanks to Christ's grace, I will not be swayed: so just do what you must without further delay." The officer ordered him to be brutally beaten with sticks, in the Persian style, taunting him the whole time and repeatedly stating that since he rejected the king's generosity, he would be treated this way every day for the rest of his life. This punishment was inflicted on him for three days; on the third day, the judge ordered him to be laid on his back with a heavy beam pressing down on his legs, crushing his flesh to the bone. The martyr's calmness and endurance amazed the officer, who went again [Pg 340] to inform the king of his behavior. During his absence, the jailer, a Christian, allowed everyone to visit the martyr. Many Christians quickly filled the prison, each one hoping to kiss his feet or chains, keeping anything that had been touched by him as a relic. The Saint, feeling embarrassed and upset, tried to stop them and showed his displeasure at their actions. The officer, returning from the king, had him beaten again, which the confessor endured like a statue rather than a living being. Then he was hung by one hand for two hours, with a heavy weight at his feet, and pressured with threats and promises. The judge, unable to break him, went back to the king for final orders, which were that Anastasius and all the Christian prisoners should be executed. He quickly returned to carry out these orders, causing Anastasius's two companions along with sixty-eight other Christians to be strangled one by one, right in front of him, all the while urging them to convert back to Persian worship to avoid such a disgraceful death. Anastasius, with his eyes lifted to heaven, thanked God for leading his life to such a fortunate end; he said he had expected to face a more brutal death, through the torture of all his limbs, but seeing that God granted him an easier end, he welcomed it with joy. He was therefore strangled, and after he died, his head was struck off. This happened in the year 628, the seventeenth of the Emperor Heraclius. His body, along with the other dead, was left for the dogs to eat, but it was the only one they left untouched.

It was afterwards redeemed by the Christians, who laid it in the monastery of S. Sergius, a mile from his place of triumph, in the city of Barsaloe, called afterwards from that monastery, Sergiopolis. The monk that attended him brought back his colobium, or linen sleeveless tunic. [Pg 341] The Saint's body was afterwards brought into Palestine, thence it was removed to Constantinople, and finally to Rome.

It was later redeemed by the Christians, who placed it in the monastery of St. Sergius, about a mile from his place of triumph in the city of Barsaloe, which was later named Sergiopolis after that monastery. The monk who attended him returned with his colobium, or linen sleeveless tunic. [Pg 341] The Saint's body was then brought to Palestine, from there it was moved to Constantinople, and finally to Rome.

Relics, in the church of SS. Vincent and Anastasius at Rome, also in the chapel of the Santa Scala, near S. John Lateran, at Rome.

Relics, in the church of SS. Vincent and Anastasius in Rome, also in the chapel of the Santa Scala, near S. John Lateran, in Rome.

In art, he figures with a hatchet. Often his head alone, on a plate; to be distinguished from that of S. John Baptist, by the cowl that accompanies it.

In art, he appears with a hatchet. Often just his head, on a plate; to distinguish it from that of St. John the Baptist, by the cowl that goes with it.

B. WALTER OF BIERBEEKE, MONK AT HEMMERODE.

(about a.d. 1220.)

(around A.D. 1220.)

[Authority, life in Cæsarius of Heisterbach's "Dialogus Miraculorum," Distinctio VII. c. xxxviii. ed. Strange. Cæsarius knew Walter, and some of the things he relates from what Walter told him, or from some of the brethren who where eye-witnesses to the events he describes. At the same time allowance must be made for the great credulity of Cæsarius.]

[Authority, life in Cæsarius of Heisterbach's "Dialogus Miraculorum," Distinctio VII. c. xxxviii. ed. Strange. Cæsarius was acquainted with Walter, and some of the stories he shares come from what Walter told him or from some of the brothers who witnessed the events he describes. However, we should also take into account Cæsarius's inclination to believe things too readily.]

Walter of Bierbeeke, in Brabant, was a knight of noble blood, having been related to Henry, Duke of Louvain. He fought against the Saracens in the Holy Land, and was a brave and upright chevalier. He was also a man of deep piety, and of a fervent devotion to the Blessed Virgin. Like Sir Galahad he might have said:—

Walter of Bierbeeke, in Brabant, was a knight of noble blood, related to Henry, Duke of Louvain. He fought against the Saracens in the Holy Land and was a brave and honorable knight. He was also a deeply pious man, with a strong devotion to the Blessed Virgin. Like Sir Galahad, he could have said:—

"—— all my heart is lifted up," My knees bend in the tomb and sanctuary; I’ve never experienced the kiss of love, Nor maiden's hand in mine. More beautiful features shine on me, I'm stronger than powerful vehicles that move and excite; So I stay good through faith and prayer. "A pure heart in effort and determination."

The great German writer, Fouqué, seems to have had this [Pg 342] Brabantine hero in his mind's eye, when he wrote his "Aslauga's Knight." Like Froda, in that exquisite story, Walter of Bierbeeke had fixed his heart on a heavenly mistress, whose pure image haunted his dreams.

The great German writer, Fouqué, seems to have had this [Pg 342] Brabantine hero in his mind when he wrote his "Aslauga's Knight." Like Froda, in that beautiful story, Walter of Bierbeeke had set his heart on a divine mistress, whose pure image lingered in his dreams.

A story told by Cæsarius, illustrative of this, must not be omitted, though we may doubt its truth. Walter rode with a brilliant company of knights to a tournament. On his way he passed a little chapel, and the bell was tinkling for mass. It was a feast of Our Lady, and the good knight, leaping from his horse, entered the chapel to hear the mass of the Blessed Virgin. "You will be late for the tournament!" shouted his companions. "My duty is first to Her," answered Walter, pointing to the image of the Mother of God. Now when the mass was said, and the beginning of the Gospel of S. John was read, then the knight rose from his knees, remounted his horse, and rode towards the town.

A story shared by Cæsarius, which illustrates this point, shouldn't be overlooked, even if we question its accuracy. Walter rode with a glamorous group of knights to a tournament. On his way, he passed a small chapel where the bell was ringing for mass. It was a feast day for Our Lady, and the noble knight, jumping off his horse, entered the chapel to attend the mass of the Blessed Virgin. "You're going to be late for the tournament!" yelled his friends. "My duty comes first to Her," Walter replied, gesturing towards the image of the Mother of God. After the mass was done and the beginning of the Gospel of S. John was read, the knight got up from his knees, climbed back on his horse, and headed toward the town.

As he neared the lists, he asked of some hurrying from it how matters fared. "The tournament is well nigh over," was the answer, "Walter of Bierbeeke has borne down all competitors. He has done marvellously." But the knight understood not. He asked others, and the same answer was given. Then he rode into the lists, but met with no distinguished success. And when all was over, many knights came to him and said, "Deal graciously by us." "What mean you?" he asked. "We were captured and disarmed by thee in the lists, and we must ransom ourselves." "But I was not there."

As he got closer to the tournament area, he asked some people rushing away how things were going. "The tournament is almost over," they replied, "Walter of Bierbeeke has beaten all the competitors. He’s done amazingly well." But the knight didn’t understand. He asked others, and they gave him the same answer. Then he rode into the tournament, but didn’t achieve much success. When everything was finished, many knights came to him and said, "Please treat us kindly." "What do you mean?" he asked. "You captured us and disarmed us in the tournament, and now we need to pay a ransom." "But I wasn't there."

"Nay, but it was thou," they replied; "for we saw thy cognizance on helm and shield, and heard thy cry, and knew thy voice." Then Walter knew that his heavenly Mistress had sent an angel to fight for him, whilst he worshipped at her humble shrine.

"Nah, it was you," they answered; "we saw your mark on your helmet and shield, and heard your shout, and recognized your voice." Then Walter realized that his heavenly Mistress had sent an angel to fight for him while he worshipped at her simple shrine.

And after that, many a token did she show, that she had accepted Walter as her knight. Then his love to her [Pg 343] waxed daily stronger, and he said, "I have been her knight, now will I be her slave." So he went into a little chapel, dedicated to his dear Lady, and put a rope round his neck, and offered himself at the altar to be her serf, and to pay to her a yearly tax.

And after that, she showed many signs that she had accepted Walter as her knight. His love for her grew stronger every day, and he said, "I have been her knight, now I will be her servant." So he went into a little chapel dedicated to his dear Lady, put a rope around his neck, and offered himself at the altar to be her servant, agreeing to pay her a yearly tribute.

"And because out of honour to the heavenly queen he so humbled himself," says Cæsarius; "therefore she, on the other hand, glorified him, whom she loved, in many ways."

"And because, out of respect for the heavenly queen, he humbled himself," says Cæsarius; "therefore she, in turn, honored him, whom she loved, in many ways."

After a while he wearied of wearing coat of mail, and he cast his weapons and harness aside, and donned the Cistercian habit in the monastery of Hemmerode. There he was not allowed to live in such retirement as he loved; being unskilled in Latin, he was made to serve as a lay-brother instead of being in constant attendance in choir. Several pretty stories are told of his cloister life. At dinner, as is usual in monasteries, a monk read aloud from a Latin book. The abbot noticed Walter during the meal, every day, to seem very intent on what was being read; smiles came out on his face, and sometimes tears trickled down his cheeks. At last the abbot sent for him, and asked him, "What art thou attending to? Thou understandest not the Latin book." "No, not that book," said Walter; "but I have another book open before my mind's eye, full of sacred pictures, and I look at the first, and there I see Gabriel announcing to Mary that Christ is coming. Then I turn over the leaf, and I see the stable of Bethlehem, and the adoring shepherds; and I see the Magi come; and the next picture is the Presentation in the Temple; and so my book goes on, and I come at last to Calvary and the grave. And that is a picture book of which I never weary."

After a while, he got tired of wearing chainmail, so he set aside his weapons and armor and put on the Cistercian habit at the monastery of Hemmerode. There, he wasn’t allowed to live in the seclusion he preferred; since he was unskilled in Latin, he had to work as a lay brother instead of attending choir regularly. Several entertaining stories are told about his life in the cloister. At dinner, as is common in monasteries, a monk would read aloud from a Latin book. The abbot noticed Walter seemed very focused on what was being read during the meal; smiles appeared on his face, and sometimes tears rolled down his cheeks. Finally, the abbot called him over and asked, "What are you paying attention to? You don’t understand the Latin book." "No, not that book," Walter replied; "but I have another book open in my mind’s eye, filled with sacred images. First, I see Gabriel announcing to Mary that Christ is coming. Then I turn the page, and I see the stable in Bethlehem and the shepherds who are there to adore; I see the Magi arriving, and the next image is the Presentation in the Temple; and my book continues like this, leading me all the way to Calvary and the tomb. And that’s a picture book I can never get tired of."

Once he was sent in a boat laden with wine to Zealand. And a storm arose so that the vessel was in great danger, and she drave before the wind all night. Thinking that they must all perish, Walter made his confession to his servant, [Pg 344] there being no priest on board, and then he descended into the hold, after midnight, and placing his little ivory statue of the Blessed Virgin before him, he knelt down and prayed, expecting death. As he prayed he slept. Then, in a dream, he saw the monastery of Hemmerode, and in it was an old monk, Arnold by name, harping, and singing psalms, and praying for those who "go down to the sea in ships and exercise their business in great waters." Then Walter awoke, and went to the mariners and said, "Be of good cheer, we shall not perish, Arnold at Hemmerode is not asleep to-night, but is harping on his harp and singing to God for us."

Once he was sent in a boat loaded with wine to Zealand. A storm came up, putting the vessel in great danger, and it was driven before the wind all night. Thinking they would all perish, Walter confessed to his servant, [Pg 344] since there was no priest on board. Then he went down into the hold after midnight, and placing his small ivory statue of the Blessed Virgin before him, he knelt down and prayed, expecting to die. As he prayed, he fell asleep. In a dream, he saw the monastery of Hemmerode, where an old monk named Arnold was playing music and singing psalms, praying for those who "go down to the sea in ships and do business in great waters." Then Walter woke up and went to the sailors and said, "Take heart, we won't perish. Arnold at Hemmerode isn't asleep tonight; he's playing his harp and singing to God for us."

Now when they had come safe to land, Walter returned to his monastery, and told the abbot of his dream. Then the abbot sent for the monk Arnold, and he said to him, "What wast thou doing on the vigil of S. Nicholas?" For it was on that night that the vessel had been in danger.

Now that they had safely reached land, Walter went back to his monastery and told the abbot about his dream. The abbot then called for the monk Arnold and asked him, "What were you doing on the eve of St. Nicholas?" Because it was on that night that the ship had been in danger.

"I could not sleep at all that night," answered the monk, "so I prayed to, and praised God."

"I couldn't sleep at all that night," replied the monk, "so I prayed to, and praised God."

"But thou wast harping on a harp," said the abbot.

"But you were playing on a harp," said the abbot.

"Nay, my lord," answered the monk Arnold; "this is what I do. I play with my fingers on an imaginary harp, under my habit, making music in my soul; and this I do whenever my devotion flags."

"No, my lord," replied the monk Arnold; "this is what I do. I play with my fingers on an imaginary harp under my robe, creating music in my soul; and I do this whenever my devotion wanes."

Now Walter went with his superior, the abbot Eustace, to the monastery of Villars, which was of the same Cistercian order. And in the evening the abbot of Villars called all the monks before the abbot Eustace of Hemmerode. And he said, "Are they all here?" He answered, "All are here but two little French boys, who have communicated to-day, and on such days as they communicate they love to remain in silence by themselves."

Now Walter went with his superior, Abbot Eustace, to the monastery of Villars, which was part of the same Cistercian order. In the evening, the abbot of Villars gathered all the monks before Abbot Eustace of Hemmerode. He asked, "Is everyone here?" Eustace replied, "Everyone is here except for two young French boys who received communion today, and on days like this, they prefer to stay quiet and alone."

Now on the morrow, when the convent had gone to nones, and the elder of these boys was waiting the sound of [Pg 345] the bell, leaning on his spade before the church door, he read the little nones of Our Lady, and reading, he fell asleep. Then he thought he saw the Blessed Virgin, with a great company enter the church, and she looked not towards him. And he cried, "Oh wretched me! she calls me not!" Then the Mother of God turning, looked at him, and signing to a monk, bade him go and call the boy, and this the monk did, coming to him, and saying, "The Mistress calleth thee."

Now the next day, when the convent had finished the nones, and the oldest boy was waiting to hear the sound of [Pg 345] the bell, leaning on his spade at the church door, he began to read the little nones of Our Lady, and as he read, he fell asleep. Then he thought he saw the Blessed Virgin entering the church with a large group, and she didn't look towards him. He cried out, "Oh, wretched me! She doesn't call me!" Then the Mother of God turned, looked at him, and signaled to a monk, telling him to go and call the boy, and the monk did just that, approaching him and saying, "The Mistress calls you."

When he woke, he told his fellow the dream; and when they went within, he saw Walter, and he whispered to his companion, "If that monk had a grey habit instead of a white one, I would say that it was he who summoned me."

When he woke up, he shared the dream with his friend; and when they went inside, he saw Walter, and he whispered to his companion, "If that monk had a gray robe instead of a white one, I would say that it was him who called me."

Now on the morrow, when Walter and the abbot Eustace were about to depart, they stood in the door, and Walter wore his grey travelling habit. Then the boy exclaimed, "Yes, that certainly is he." A few days after, the blessed Walter of Bierbeeke died at Hemmerode, and strange to say, within a day or two, the little French boy was called away also.

Now the next day, when Walter and Abbot Eustace were about to leave, they stood in the doorway, and Walter was wearing his grey travel outfit. Then the boy exclaimed, "Yes, that’s definitely him." A few days later, the blessed Walter of Bierbeeke died at Hemmerode, and strangely enough, within a day or two, the little French boy also passed away.


January 23.

S. Parmenas, one of the first Seven Deacons, end of 1st cent.
S. Messalina, V. M., at Foligno, in Italy, a.d. 250.
S. Asclas, M., at Antinoë, in Egypt, circ. a.d. 304.
S. Emerentiana, V. M., at Rome, a.d. 304. (See p. 321.)
S. Clement, B. of Ancyra, and Companions, MM., beginning of 4th cent.
S. Amasius, B. C. of Teano, near Capua, circ. a.d. 356.
S. Eusebius, Ab. in Syria, 4th cent.
S. Mausimas, P. in Syria, circ. a.d. 400.
S. Urban, B. of Langres, 5th cent.
S. John the Almsgiver, Patr. of Alexandria, a.d. 616.
S. Ildephonsus, B. of Toledo, a.d. 667.
S. Boisilus, of Melrose, circ. a.d. 664.
S. Maimbod, M., at Besançon.
S. Bernard, Ab. of Vienne, in France, 9th cent.
S. Raymond, of Pennaforte, C. in Spain, a.d. 1275.
S. Margaret, V., at Ravenna, a.d. 1505.

St. Parmenas, one of the first Seven Deacons, late 1st century.
St. Messalina, Virgin Martyr, in Foligno, Italy, A.D. 250.
St. Asclas, Martyr, in Antinoë, Egypt, around A.D. 304.
St. Emerentiana, Virgin Martyr, in Rome, A.D. 304. (See p. __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__.)
St. Clement, Bishop of Ancyra, and Companions, Martyrs, early 4th century.
St. Amasius, Bishop and Confessor of Teano, near Capua, around A.D. 356.
St. Eusebius, Abbot in Syria, 4th century.
St. Mausimas, Priest in Syria, around A.D. 400.
St. Urban, Bishop of Langres, 5th century.
St. John the Almsgiver, Patriarch of Alexandria, A.D. 616.
St. Ildephonsus, Bishop of Toledo, A.D. 667.
St. Boisilus, of Melrose, around A.D. 664.
St. Maimbod, Martyr, in Besançon.
St. Bernard, Abbot of Vienne, France, 9th century.
St. Raymond, of Pennaforte, Confessor in Spain, A.D. 1275.
St. Margaret, Virgin, in Ravenna, A.D. 1505.

S. ASCLAS, M.

(about a.d. 304)

(around A.D. 304)

[S. Asclas was martyred on Jan. 21st, but his body was found on Jan. 23rd, and on this latter day he is usually commemorated. His Acts, in a fragmentary condition, are genuine.]

S. Asclas was martyred on January 21, but his body was discovered on January 23, which is when he is usually commemorated. His Acts, although incomplete, are genuine.

A.

sclas, a native of Antinoë, was brought before the Roman governor, Arrianus, when he visited Hermopolis, in the Thebaid, or Upper Egypt. After a close interrogation, which is faithfully recorded in the Acts of this martyr, the Governor exclaimed, "Come, now! sacrifice to the gods, and consult thy safety. I have various instruments at hand, as thou seest." "Try, now," said the martyr, boldly. "Try, now, which will prevail, thou and thy instruments, or I and my Christ." The Governor ordered him to be swung from the little horse, and his flesh to be torn off in ribands. This was done. Then Arrianus said sullenly, "I see he is as obdurate as ever." [Pg 347] An orator, standing by, remarked, "The approach of death has robbed him of his wits." Asclas turned his head, and said, "No, I am robbed neither of my wits nor of my God."

Asclas, who was from Antinoë, was brought before the Roman governor, Arrianus, during his visit to Hermopolis in Upper Egypt. After a detailed interrogation, which is accurately recorded in the Acts of this martyr, the Governor exclaimed, "Come on! Just sacrifice to the gods and think of your safety. I have various tools right here, as you can see." "Go ahead," said the martyr confidently. "Let's see which is stronger, you and your tools, or me and my Christ." The Governor ordered him to be hung from a small horse, and his flesh to be torn apart in strips. This was done. Then Arrianus remarked gloomily, "I see he is as stubborn as ever." [Pg 347] An orator standing nearby commented, "The approach of death has made him lose his mind." Asclas turned his head and replied, "No, I haven't lost my mind or my God."

Now this had taken place on the further side of the river, near Antinoë; and as there were not sufficient conveniences for continuing the torture, the Governor said, "We will return to Hermopolis." So he ordered Asclas into one boat; and when he had been taken over the Nile, then Arrianus entered his boat, and began to cross. Thereupon Asclas cried out, "O Lord, for whose sake I have suffered, may Thy name be glorified now, even by unwilling lips. Retain the vessel in the midst of the river, till Arrianus confesses Thy power." Then suddenly the boat stood, as though it had grounded on a sand-bank, and it could not be moved, till the Governor wrote on a piece of parchment: "The Lord of Asclas, He is God, and there is none other god save He." And when he had sent this to the martyr, the boat floated, and was propelled to the shore. Then the Governor, inflamed with rage, thinking that the captive had used magical arts, tortured him by applying fire to his sides and belly, till his body was one great sore. And after that he cast him, with a stone attached to his neck, into the Nile.

Now this happened on the far side of the river, near Antinoë. Since there weren’t enough facilities to continue the torture, the Governor said, "We’ll go back to Hermopolis." He ordered Asclas into one boat, and after he was taken across the Nile, Arrianus got into his boat and began to cross. Then Asclas shouted, "O Lord, for whom I have suffered, may Your name be glorified now, even by unwilling lips. Hold the boat in the middle of the river until Arrianus confesses Your power." Suddenly, the boat stopped, as if it had run aground on a sandbank, and it couldn’t move until the Governor wrote on a piece of parchment: "The Lord of Asclas, He is God, and there is no other god besides Him." After he sent this to the martyr, the boat floated and moved to the shore. Then the Governor, filled with rage and thinking that the captive had used magic, tortured him by applying fire to his sides and belly, until his body was covered in sores. After that, he threw him into the Nile with a stone tied around his neck.

S. CLEMENT, B. OF ANCYRA, AND HIS COMPANIONS, MM.

(beginning of 4th cent.)

(early 4th century)

[Commemorated by the Greeks. The Greek Acts of these martyrs are not genuine.]

[Remembered by the Greeks. The Greek accounts of these martyrs are not genuine.]

S. Clement, Bishop of Ancyra, was the son of a heathen father and a Christian mother. When Clement was ten years old, his mother died. Before her death, she summoned him to her side, and urged him not to desert Christ, whatever sufferings [Pg 348] he might be called on to endure for His sake. Being possessed of private means, on coming of age, he adopted a number of poor boys, and educated them in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. He was at length ordained Bishop of Ancyra, his native city. In the persecution of Diocletian, he was taken and brought before the governor. He was treated with great barbarity, being torn with hooks, and his teeth and jaw broken with a large stone. As he lay among other prisoners that night in the jail, a bright light filled it, and the prisoners saw a man enter in dazzling garments, who held in his hand the Holy Eucharist, and therewith he communicated the bishop. But whether he were mortal priest, or an angel of God, no man knows. Along with Clement, one Agathangelus and many others, men, women, and boys suffered for Christ, whose names are written in the Book of Life.

S. Clement, Bishop of Ancyra, was the son of a pagan father and a Christian mother. When Clement was ten, his mother passed away. Before she died, she called him to her side and urged him not to abandon Christ, no matter what hardships he might face for His sake. Having personal means, once he came of age, he took in several poor boys and educated them in the Lord's ways. Eventually, he was ordained as Bishop of Ancyra, his hometown. During the persecution under Diocletian, he was captured and brought before the governor. He was treated brutally, being pierced with hooks and having his teeth and jaw smashed with a heavy stone. That night, as he lay among other prisoners in the jail, a bright light filled the room, and the prisoners saw a man in radiant garments enter, holding the Holy Eucharist, with which he communicated the bishop. Whether he was a mortal priest or an angel of God remains unknown. Along with Clement, a man named Agathangelus and many others, including men, women, and boys, suffered for Christ, their names written in the Book of Life.

S. JOHN THE ALMSGIVER, PATRIARCH OF ALEXANDRIA.

(a.d. 616.)

(a.d. 616.)

[S. John died on Nov. 11th. But as that is the feast of S. Mennas, among the Greeks, they commemorate him on Nov. 12th; and as the 11th is the feast of S. Martin among the Latins, the commemoration of S. John is transferred in some Martyrologies to Jan. 23rd, in others to Feb. 3rd, and in others again to July 13th. Authority, his life by Leontius, Bishop of Cyprus, and S. John Damascene, Orat. 3; also a life in Metaphrastes. Leontius wrote from the account of the priests of Alexandria, who had been under S. John.]

Saint John died on November 11th. However, since that day is the feast of Saint Mennas for the Greeks, they celebrate him on November 12th. Because the 11th is also the feast of Saint Martin for the Latins, the commemoration of Saint John is moved in some Martyrologies to January 23rd, in others to February 3rd, and in others again to July 13th. His life is documented by Leontius, Bishop of Cyprus, and Saint John Damascene in Oration 3; there is also a biography written by Metaphrastes. Leontius based his account on stories from the priests of Alexandria who had known Saint John.

John the Eleemosynary, or the Almsgiver, was a very wealthy native of Amathus in Cyprus, and a widower. Having buried all his children, he employed his whole fortune in relieving the necessities of the poor.

John the Almsgiver was a very wealthy man from Amathus in Cyprus, and he was a widower. After losing all his children, he spent his entire fortune on helping those in need.

On his election to the metropolitan see of Alexandria, [Pg 349] he at once ordered a list to be made of his masters. When asked what he meant, he replied that he desired to know how many poor there were demanding his services in the great city, for, like his Lord, he had come to minister to their needs.

On his election to the metropolitan see of Alexandria, [Pg 349] he immediately ordered a list to be created of his masters. When asked what he meant, he replied that he wanted to know how many poor people were seeking his help in the big city, for, like his Lord, he had come to serve their needs.

As many as 7,500 were found without a livelihood. John at once undertook to relieve them. Finding that their poor little savings were wasted by the fraud of tradesmen, who used unequal balances and unjust measures, he at once began an attack on such dealings, and thereby stirred up no small hostility against himself on the part of the petty shopkeepers.

As many as 7,500 people were found without a way to support themselves. John immediately took action to help them. He discovered that their meager savings were being depleted by dishonest tradesmen who used faulty scales and unfair measurements. He quickly started a campaign against these practices, which stirred up significant anger from the local shopkeepers.

Twice in the week he drew his chair outside the church door, and placed two benches before it, that he might hear the complaints of the oppressed, and remedy them, as far as lay in his power. One day he was found softly crying. "Why these tears?" he was asked. "None seek my assistance this day," he replied. "Thou shouldst rather rejoice that there is no need," said his interlocutor. Then he raised his eyes to heaven, with a joyous smile, and thanked God. He built hospitals for the sick and visited them, "not as captives, but as brothers," says Leontius. He was discreet in his charities. To women and girls he gave twice as much as to men, because they are less able to earn a living. But he would not allow anything to be given to those who were dressy and adorned with trinkets. But it was not the poor alone that he assisted. A merchantman, having been twice ruined by shipwrecks, had as often relief from the good patriarch, who the third time gave him a ship belonging to the church, laden with corn. This vessel was driven by a storm to Britain, where raged a famine. He was therefore able to sell the corn at a good price, and brought back a load of British silver.[115] A nobleman having [Pg 350] been greatly reduced, the patriarch ordered his treasurer to give him fifteen pounds of gold. The treasurer thinking this too much, reduced the gift to five. Almost directly after, a wealthy lady sent him an order for five hundred pounds. The patriarch, who had expected more from that quarter, asked her to come to him. "May it please your Holiness," said she; "I wrote the order last night for fifteen hundred pounds, but this morning I saw that the 10 on the cheque had disappeared." S. John at once concluded that this was God's doing. He turned to the treasurer and asked how much had been given the poor nobleman. On the hesitation of this man, he sent for the gentleman, and found that his liberal orders had not been complied with. "What is sown to the Lord, the Lord restores an hundred fold," said the patriarch. "I knew that five pounds alone could have been given, when He returned me only five hundred."

Twice a week, he would take his chair outside the church door and set up two benches in front of it so he could listen to the complaints of those in need and help them as much as he could. One day, he was found softly crying. "Why are you in tears?" someone asked him. "No one has come to me for help today," he replied. "You should rather be glad that there’s no need," said the other person. He then looked up at the sky with a joyful smile and thanked God. He built hospitals for the sick and visited them, "not as captives, but as brothers," says Leontius. He was careful with his charitable acts. He gave women and girls twice as much as he gave to men because they had a harder time making a living. However, he refused to give anything to those who were extravagant and adorned with jewelry. But he didn’t just help the poor. A merchant, who had been shipwrecked twice, received help from the good patriarch each time, and on the third occasion, he even gave him a church ship loaded with corn. This ship was caught in a storm and ended up in Britain, where there was a famine. As a result, he was able to sell the corn for a great price and came back with a load of British silver.[115] A nobleman who had fallen on hard times was given fifteen pounds of gold by the patriarch. The treasurer thought this amount was too high and cut the gift down to five pounds. Almost immediately afterward, a wealthy lady sent in a request for five hundred pounds. The patriarch, who had expected more, asked her to meet with him. "If it pleases your Holiness," she said; "I wrote the request last night for fifteen hundred pounds, but this morning I noticed that the 10 on the check had vanished." St. John immediately thought this was God's doing. He turned to the treasurer and asked how much had been given to the poor nobleman. When the treasurer hesitated, he called for the nobleman and discovered that his generous instructions hadn’t been followed. "What is sown to the Lord, the Lord restores a hundredfold," the patriarch said. "I knew that only five pounds could have been given when He returned me five hundred."

Nicetas Patricius, sub-prætor of Africa, saw the lavish charity of the patriarch with a jealous eye. The state exchequer was without funds, and he thought to appropriate the wealth of the patriarch to such purposes as the state required. Accordingly, one day he visited John the Almsgiver, with his attendants, and peremptorily demanded his money. "Here is my strong box," said the patriarch; "but the money belongs to the church, not to the state. If you choose to take it, you may do so, but I will not give it you, for it is not mine to give."

Nicetas Patricius, the sub-prefect of Africa, looked at the patriarch

Nicetas, without more ado, ordered his servants to shoulder the money chest, and take it away. As he opened the door to leave, he saw some domestics bringing up a number of pots labelled "Virgin Honey." "Hah!" said the sub-prætor, "I wish you would give me a taste of your honey!" "You shall have some," said the Patriarch. Now when the pots were opened, it was found that they contained [Pg 351] a contribution in money sent to the Bishop; as indeed those who brought them announced.[116] When John saw the amount thus supplied to his pillaged treasury, he ordered one of his servants to take a pot, labelled as it was, to Nicetas, and to put it on his table, saying, "All those pots you met coming upstairs, as you went out, were full of the same sort of honey." And John wrote a note, which he attached to the pot, to this effect: "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee, said the Lord; and His word is true, and no lie. Think not that mortal man can restrain the everlasting God. Farewell."

Nicetas quickly told his servants to grab the money chest and take it away. As he opened the door to leave, he noticed some staff bringing up several pots labeled "Raw Honey." "Oh!" said the sub-prætor, "I hope you’ll let me taste your honey!" "You’ll get some," replied the Patriarch. When the pots were opened, it turned out they contained a financial contribution for the Bishop, just as those who brought them had announced.[Pg 351] When John saw how much had been added to his depleted treasury, he instructed one of his servants to take a pot, as labeled, to Nicetas and place it on his table, saying, "All those pots you passed as you went out were filled with the same kind of honey." John then wrote a note to attach to the pot, stating: "I will never leave you nor forsake you, said the Lord; and His word is true, and no lie. Don’t think that a mortal can limit the eternal God. Goodbye."

Now, Nicetas was sitting at table with friends at supper, when it was announced that the patriarch's honey awaited him. He ordered it at once to be set on the table, and said, "That patriarch is out of temper with me, that I can see, or he would have sent me more than one miserable little pot." But when he opened the jar, behold! it was full of money. Then he felt compunction for what he had done, and he ordered his servants to haste, and return to the patriarch his cash-box, and all the contents of the honey-pot.

Now, Nicetas was having dinner with friends when he was told that the patriarch's honey was ready for him. He immediately had it brought to the table and said, "That patriarch is upset with me, I can tell, or he would have sent me more than just one small jar." But when he opened the jar, surprise! It was filled with money. Then he felt guilty about what he had said, so he told his servants to hurry and return the cash and everything from the honey jar to the patriarch.

Nicetas, after this, became friendly to the patriarch, who, as a token of response, stood godfather to his children. On one occasion this friendship was clouded, and threatened dissolution. The governor had imposed a tax, which fell with peculiar severity on the poor. John complained, and back-biters were not slow to excite Nicetas against John, by representing him as fomenting general discontent. The governor rushed to the patriarch's lodgings, and exploded into a storm of angry words, which left our Saint agitated and distressed. As evening drew on, he wrote on a scroll the words, "The sun is setting," and sent it to Nicetas, who, recalling the maxim of S. Paul, "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath," was moved to regret his violence, and he sped with the same celerity as before, but with different purpose, to the residence of the patriarch, to ask his pardon, and heal their friendship.

Nicetas, after this, became friends with the patriarch, who, as a sign of goodwill, became the godfather to his children. At one point, this friendship was strained and seemed to be falling apart. The governor had imposed a tax that hit the poor particularly hard. John complained, and gossipers quickly stirred up resentment in Nicetas against John, making it seem like he was causing widespread discontent. The governor stormed into the patriarch's residence, unleashing a torrent of angry words that left the Saint upset and troubled. As evening approached, he wrote on a scroll the words, "The sun is setting," and sent it to Nicetas, who remembered the saying from St. Paul, "Let not the sun go down upon your wrath." This made him regret his outburst, and he hurried to the patriarch's home once again, but this time with the intention of asking for forgiveness and mending their friendship.

The good prelate could ill bear to be at discord with another, though the fault was none of his.

The good bishop could hardly stand to be at odds with someone else, even though it wasn't his fault.

On one occasion he had excommunicated, for a few days, two clerks, who had attacked each other with their fists. One bore the sentence in a right spirit of compunction, but the other with resentment. Next Sunday, the patriarch was at the altar celebrating. As the deacon was about to remove the veil covering the sacred vessels, John remembered all at once the hostility of the clerk, and the words of our Lord: "If thou bringest thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift." (Matt. v. 25, 24.) Then, bidding the deacon recite the general prayer over and over again till his return, he left the altar, and, entering the vestry, sent a minister to bring the clerk who was not in charity with him. And when this man came, the patriarch fell before him on his knees, and bowed his white head, and said, "Pardon me, my brother!" Then the clerk, full of shame to see the patriarch, an aged man, in all his splendid vestments, at his feet, flung himself down, weeping, confessed his wrong, and asked forgiveness. Then the patriarch embraced him, and returning to the altar, finished the sacrifice.

One time, he temporarily excommunicated two clerks who had gotten into a fistfight. One took the punishment with genuine remorse, while the other was angry about it. The following Sunday, as the patriarch was celebrating at the altar, the deacon was about to lift the veil off the sacred vessels. Suddenly, John remembered the hostility from the clerk and the words of our Lord: "If you bring your gift to the altar and remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to your brother; then come and offer your gift." (Matt. v. 25, 24.) He then told the deacon to repeat the general prayer until he returned, left the altar, and went to the vestry to send someone to fetch the clerk he was at odds with. When the man arrived, the patriarch knelt before him, bowed his head and said, "Forgive me, my brother!" The clerk, feeling ashamed to see the patriarch, an elderly man in his beautiful vestments, at his feet, threw himself down in tears, admitted his wrongdoing, and begged for forgiveness. The patriarch then embraced him and returned to the altar to complete the service.

Having in vain exhorted a certain nobleman to forgive one with whom he was at variance, he invited him to his private chapel, to assist at his mass. Now as they were reciting the [Pg 353] Lord's Prayer, the patriarch kept silence after he had said, "Give us this day our daily bread;" and the server, at a signal from him, ceased also; but the nobleman continued, "And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us,"—and then noticed that he had made that one petition alone, so he paused. Then the patriarch turned round at the altar and said, "What hast thou now asked?—to be forgiven by God as thou forgivest others." The nobleman was pricked at the heart, and fell down and promised to forget the wrong that had been done him.

Having unsuccessfully urged a certain nobleman to forgive someone he was in conflict with, he invited him to his private chapel to join in his mass. As they were reciting the [Pg 353] Lord's Prayer, the patriarch fell silent after he said, "Give us this day our daily bread;" and the server, at a signal from him, stopped too; but the nobleman continued, "And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us,"—and then realized he had made that one request alone, so he paused. Then the patriarch turned around at the altar and said, "What have you just asked?—to be forgiven by God as you forgive others." The nobleman felt a sharp pang in his heart, fell to the ground, and promised to let go of the wrongs done to him.

Observing that as soon as the Gospel was read at Mass, a portion of the congregation retired and stood outside the church, talking among themselves, the patriarch went forth and seated himself amongst them, saying, "Where the sheep are, there the shepherd must also be," and they with shame came into church. Thus he broke through a pernicious custom.

Noticing that right after the Gospel was read at Mass, some people in the congregation left and stood outside the church, chatting among themselves, the patriarch went out and sat with them, saying, "Where the sheep are, there the shepherd should be too," and they, feeling ashamed, came back into the church. This way, he challenged a harmful habit.

The patriarch, one day, took a bishop named Troilus, then visiting Alexandria, to see his poor in a certain quarter, where he had erected for their accommodation a number of domed huts, supplied with beds, mattrasses, and blankets for the winter. Now Troilus had seen a handsome chased silver drinking cup in the town, and had set his heart upon it; it cost thirty pounds, and he had brought this sum with him, intending to buy the cup on his return, and when he had shaken himself free from the charitable patriarch. "I see," said John, "you have some money with you—many pounds, if I mistake not; distribute it among these my poor."

The patriarch once took a bishop named Troilus, who was visiting Alexandria, to see his less fortunate neighbors in a certain area. There, he had built several domed huts to provide them with shelter, complete with beds, mattresses, and blankets for the winter. Troilus had spotted a beautiful silver drinking cup in town and really wanted it; it cost thirty pounds, and he had brought this amount with him, planning to buy the cup after he was done with the charitable patriarch. "I see," said John, "you have some money with you—quite a bit, if I’m not mistaken; why not share it with my poor here?"

Troilus was unable to refuse; and so, most reluctantly, his gold went into the pocket of the beggars instead of into that of the silversmith. He was so greatly put out about this that he fretted himself into a fever. The patriarch, not seeing him, or hearing of him, for some days, sent a servant to invite [Pg 354] him to dinner; but the Bishop declined, saying that he suffered from a bad cold and fever. Then S. John hastened to his house to sympathize with the sick man, but soon discovering that there was more of temper than malady in the case, he guessed the cause, and said, "By the way, I borrowed of you thirty pounds the other day, for my poor; if you are so disposed, I will at once repay the sum."

Troilus couldn’t refuse; so, very reluctantly, his money went into the hands of the beggars instead of the silversmith. He was so upset about this that it stressed him into a fever. The patriarch, not seeing or hearing from him for several days, sent a servant to invite him to dinner; but the Bishop turned it down, saying he had a bad cold and fever. Then St. John rushed to his house to show sympathy for the sick man, but soon realizing that there was more anger than illness involved, he guessed the reason and said, "By the way, I borrowed thirty pounds from you the other day for my charity; if you’re up for it, I’ll pay you back right now."

Then—says the writer of the life of S. John—when the Bishop saw the money in the hand of the patriarch, all at once his fever vanished, his cold flew away, and his colour and vigour came back; so that any one might have seen what was the real cause of his indisposition. "And now, if you are well enough, you will dine with me," said the patriarch. "I am ready," answered Bishop Troilus, jumping off his bed, on which he had cast himself in his fever of vexation.

Then—says the writer of the life of S. John—when the Bishop saw the money in the patriarch's hand, suddenly his fever disappeared, his chills went away, and his color and energy returned; it was clear to anyone what the real cause of his illness was. "Now, if you're feeling better, you can have dinner with me," said the patriarch. "I'm ready," replied Bishop Troilus, jumping off the bed where he had collapsed in his fever of frustration.

Now it fell out that after dinner the Bishop dropped asleep with his head on the table, and in a dream he saw himself in a wondrous land of rare beauty; and there he beheld a glorious house of unearthly beauty, over the door of which was inscribed, "The Eternal Mansion and Place of Repose of Troilus, the Bishop." Having read this, he was glad. But there came by a certain One, with many attendants in robes of white, and He looked up and read the title, and said: "Not so, change the superscription." Then the attendants removed the writing, and replaced it with this, "The Eternal Mansion and Place of Repose of John, Archbishop of Alexandria, purchased for Thirty Pounds."

Now it happened that after dinner the Bishop fell asleep with his head on the table, and in a dream, he found himself in a beautiful, wondrous land. There, he saw a magnificent house of otherworldly beauty, and above the door was the inscription, "The Eternal Mansion and Place of Rest of Troilus, the Bishop." Upon reading this, he felt happy. But then a certain One came by, accompanied by many attendants in white robes. He looked up, read the title, and said: "Not so, change the inscription." Then the attendants took down the writing and replaced it with this: "The Eternal Mansion and Resting Place of John, Archbishop of Alexandria, bought for thirty pounds.."

One of his domestic servants having fallen into great difficulties, the patriarch privately helped him, by giving him two pounds. "I do not know how I can sufficiently thank your excellence and angelic holiness," said the servant. [Pg 355] "No thanks," said the patriarch, "Humble John"—so he was wont to call himself—"has not yet shed his blood for you, as his Master taught him."

One of his house staff got into serious trouble, so the patriarch secretly assisted him by giving him two pounds. "I don’t know how I can thank you enough, your greatness and angelic holiness," said the servant. [Pg 355] "No need for thanks," replied the patriarch, "Humble John"—the name he liked to call himself—"has not yet shed his blood for you, as his Master taught him."

There was a certain man, named Theopentus, greatly given to charity, who died leaving an only son. And on his death-bed, he called the boy, and said to him, "I have ten pounds, and that is all that remains to me; shall I give it to you or to the Virgin Mother of God?" And when the boy said, "It shall be her's;" then the father said, "Go and spend it among the poor."

There was a man named Theopentus, who was very generous and devoted to helping others. He passed away, leaving behind an only son. On his deathbed, he called the boy to him and said, "I have ten pounds left, and that’s all I have; should I give it to you or to the Virgin Mother of God?" When the boy replied, "It should belong to her," the father said, "Go and give it to the poor."

Now when the patriarch heard of this, and that the orphan was left destitute, and was in great want; knowing that it would hurt him to offer him charity, he devised an innocent deception. He bade a scribe draw up a false pedigree, making himself and the deceased to be cousins, and he bade him show it to the youth, and bring him to the residence of the patriarch. And when this was done, the holy man ran to the lad and kissed him, and said, "How is this! that the child of my dear kinsman is in poverty. I must provide for thee, my dear son." So he made him an allowance, and married and settled him comfortably in Alexandria.

Now when the patriarch learned about this, and that the orphan was left without support and was in great need; knowing that offering him charity would hurt his pride, he came up with an innocent trick. He instructed a scribe to create a fake family tree, claiming that he and the deceased were cousins, and he told him to show it to the young man and bring him to the patriarch's home. Once this was done, the holy man rushed to the boy, kissed him, and said, "How is it possible that the child of my dear relative is living in poverty? I must take care of you, my dear son." So he provided him with a stipend and helped him get married and settled comfortably in Alexandria.

When the Persians devastated the Holy Land and sacked Jerusalem, S. John entertained all who fled into Egypt, and nursed the wounded. He also sent to Jerusalem, for the use of the poor there, a large sum of money, and a thousand sacks of corn, as many of pulse, one thousand barrels of wine, and one thousand Egyptian workmen to assist in rebuilding the churches. He moreover despatched two bishops and an abbot to ransom the captives.

When the Persians destroyed the Holy Land and looted Jerusalem, St. John welcomed everyone who fled to Egypt and cared for the injured. He also sent a large amount of money to Jerusalem for the poor, along with a thousand sacks of corn, the same amount of pulses, one thousand barrels of wine, and one thousand Egyptian workers to help rebuild the churches. Additionally, he sent two bishops and an abbot to free the captives.

S. John lived a simple life, his apparel, the furniture of his house, his diet, were all of the meanest. A person of distinction in the city, being informed that he had only an old tattered blanket on his bed, sent him a very handsome one. "Humble John" wore it over him for one night, but sold it [Pg 356] next day, and gave the price to the poor; for, during the night, he thought of some poor wretches who had no blankets at all. The friend, being informed of this, bought the blanket, and sent it to him again. It met with the same fate as before, and he again and again re-purchased it. "We shall see who will be tired first," said the patriarch; "he of buying, or I of selling, the blanket."

S. John lived a simple life, with his clothes, furniture, and food all being very basic. A well-known person in the city learned that he only had an old, worn-out blanket on his bed and sent him a nice new one. "Humble John" used it for one night but sold it the next day, giving the money to the poor, as during the night he thought about those who had no blankets at all. When his friend found out, he bought the blanket again and sent it back to him. The same thing happened again, and the friend kept repurchasing it. “Let’s see who gets tired first,” said the patriarch, “him from buying or me from selling the blanket.”

There was one class of men to whom it was peculiarly difficult to offer assistance, and that was the slaves, placed at the almost complete disposal of their masters. But the watchful care of S. John did not forget them. To the masters he spoke noble words: "These men are made in the image of God. What constitutes you different from them? You and your slaves have legs and arms, and eyes and mouths, and a soul alike. S. Paul said, 'Whosoever is baptised into Christ hath put on Christ—ye are all one in Christ.' In Christ master and slave are equal. Christ took on Him the form of a servant, teaching us to respect our servants. God regardeth the humble, we are taught; He says not, the lofty ones, but those who are least esteemed. For the sake of the poor slave were the heavens made, for him the earth, for him the stars, for him the sun, for him the sea and all that therein is. For him Christ abased Himself to wash His servants' feet, for him He suffered, for him He died. Shall we purchase with money such an one, so honoured, redeemed with such precious blood? You ill-treat a servant, as though he were not of like nature with you, yet is he highly honoured by God."

There was a group of people who found it particularly hard to receive help, and that was the slaves, who were almost entirely at their masters' mercy. However, S. John's attentive care didn't overlook them. He spoke powerful words to the masters: "These men are created in the image of God. What makes you different from them? You and your slaves both have legs, arms, eyes, mouths, and a soul. S. Paul said, 'Anyone who is baptized into Christ has put on Christ—you're all one in Christ.' In Christ, master and slave are equal. Christ took the form of a servant, teaching us to respect our servants. We are taught that God values the humble; He does not say the lofty ones, but those who are considered least. For the sake of the poor slave, the heavens were created, for him the earth, for him the stars, for him the sun, for him the sea and everything in it. For him, Christ humbled Himself to wash His servants' feet, for him He suffered, for him He died. Should we buy someone so honored, redeemed with such precious blood? You mistreat a servant as if he were not of the same nature as you, yet he is highly honored by God."

A monk arrived in Alexandria with a young Jewess in his company, whom he had converted and baptized; this caused great scandal, and by order of the patriarch, he was severely beaten. The monk bore his chastisement meekly, without exculpating himself. Next day it was made so evident that the monk was without the least blame, that the patriarch sent for him to ask his forgiveness, and ever after

A monk came to Alexandria with a young Jewish woman he had converted and baptized; this caused a huge scandal, and the patriarch ordered him to be severely beaten. The monk accepted his punishment quietly, without defending himself. The next day, it became clear that the monk was completely innocent, so the patriarch called him in to ask for his forgiveness, and from then on


he was most careful not to judge rashly. "My sons," said he, when he heard people blame others; "be not hasty to judge and condemn. We see often the sin of fornication, but we see not the hidden repentance. We see the crime of a theft, but we see not the sighs and tears of contrition. We severely blame the fornicator, the thief, or the perjurer, but God receives his hidden confessions, and bitter sorrow, and holds it as very precious."

He was very careful not to judge quickly. "My sons," he said when he heard people criticizing others, "don't be too quick to judge and condemn. We often see the sin of fornication, but we don't see the hidden repentance. We notice the crime of theft, but we don't see the sighs and tears of regret. We harshly blame the fornicator, the thief, or the liar, but God receives their hidden confessions and deep sorrow, valuing them greatly."

Nicetas, the governor, persuaded the Saint to accompany him to Constantinople, to pay a visit to the Emperor. S. John was admonished from heaven, whilst he was on his way, at Rhodes, that his death drew near; so he said to Nicetas, "You invite me to the king of the earth; but the King of heaven calls me to Himself." He therefore sailed to his native island of Cyprus, and soon after died at Amanthus, the home of his boyhood and married life, and where he had laid his wife and children, and there he fell asleep in Christ at the age of sixty-four, after having ruled the patriarchal see of Alexandria ten years.

Nicetas, the governor, convinced the Saint to join him on a trip to Constantinople to visit the Emperor. While on his way, as he was in Rhodes, St. John received a message from heaven that his death was approaching. He said to Nicetas, "You’re inviting me to the king of the earth, but the King of heaven is calling me to Himself." He then sailed back to his home island of Cyprus and soon after passed away in Amanthus, the place of his childhood and married life, where he had buried his wife and children. He fell asleep in Christ at the age of sixty-four, after serving as the patriarch of Alexandria for ten years.

S. RAYMUND, OF PENNAFORTE, O.S.D.

(a.d. 1275.)

(A.D. 1275.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authorities: The bull of his canonization, by Clement VIII., in 1601, and a life by Leander Albertus.]

[Roman Martyrology. Sources: The canonization document by Clement VIII in 1601 and a biography by Leander Albertus.]

S. Raymund was born in 1175, at Pennaforte, a castle in Catalonia. At the age of thirty he went to Bologna, in Italy, to perfect himself in the study of canon and civil law. In 1219 the Bishop of Barcelona, who had been at Rome, took Raymund home with him and made him archdeacon of Barcelona. In 1222 he took the religious habit of S. Dominic, eight months after the founder had died. James, [Pg 358] King of Arragon, had married Eleonora of Castile within the prohibited degrees, without a dispensation. A legate of Pope Gregory IX., in a council of bishops held at Tarragona, declared the marriage null. Acting on the mind of the prince, by his great sanctity and earnestness, Raymund persuaded him to introduce the inquisition into the kingdom to suppress the Waldenses and Albigenses, who had made many converts to their pernicious doctrines. The object of S. Raymund doubtless was that it should serve as a check to the diffusion of heresy, and be a protection to simple souls against the poison which the ministers of Antichrist strove to infuse into them. The inquisitors were to be the dogs protecting the sheep from the wolves. S. Raymund laboured diligently, by exhortation and example, to convert the Moors and heretics, and his efforts were attended with extraordinary success.

S. Raymund was born in 1175 in Pennaforte, a castle in Catalonia. At the age of thirty, he went to Bologna, Italy, to further his studies in canon and civil law. In 1219, the Bishop of Barcelona, who had been in Rome, brought Raymund back with him and appointed him as archdeacon of Barcelona. In 1222, he took the religious habit of S. Dominic, just eight months after the founder had died. James, King of Aragon, had married Eleonora of Castile within the prohibited degrees, without a dispensation. A legate of Pope Gregory IX, in a council of bishops held at Tarragona, declared the marriage null. Influenced by the prince, due to his great sanctity and earnestness, Raymund convinced him to introduce the inquisition into the kingdom to suppress the Waldenses and Albigenses, who had gained many followers with their harmful doctrines. S. Raymund's intention was likely to serve as a check on the spread of heresy and protect innocent souls from the poison that the ministers of Antichrist sought to instill in them. The inquisitors were meant to be the guardians protecting the sheep from the wolves. S. Raymund worked tirelessly, through encouragement and by setting an example, to convert the Moors and heretics, and his efforts were met with remarkable success.

Pope Gregory IX., having called S. Raymund to Rome, made him his confessor. In 1235 he was named to the archbishopric of Tarragona, but, by his tears, he persuaded the Pope not to enforce his acceptance of the responsible charge. In 1238 he was chosen general of the Dominican order. He made the visitation of the order on foot, and reduced the constitution to a more complete system than heretofore. Being in Majorca with the king, he discovered that King James was living in adultery with a lady of his court. As the king would not dissolve the sinful union, the Saint implored leave to depart; the king refused, and forbade any shipper taking him into his vessel. Thereupon Raymund boldly spread his cloak on the water, and standing on it, was wafted across to Barcelona. This miracle so alarmed the king, that he became a sincere penitent. Raymund died on Jan. 6th, 1275, at the age of a hundred.

Pope Gregory IX called St. Raymund to Rome and made him his confessor. In 1235, he was appointed the archbishop of Tarragona, but through his tears, he convinced the Pope not to enforce his acceptance of the role. In 1238, he was elected as the general of the Dominican order. He visited the order on foot and developed a more comprehensive system for its constitution than had existed before. While in Majorca with the king, he discovered that King James was having an affair with a lady from his court. When the king refused to end this sinful relationship, the Saint requested to leave; the king denied him and forbade anyone from taking him on their ship. In response, Raymund boldly spread his cloak on the water and stood on it, being carried across to Barcelona. This miracle so shocked the king that he became truly penitent. Raymund died on January 6, 1275, at the age of one hundred.

FOOTNOTES:

[115] From the mines in the Cassiterides, Devon and Cornwall.

[115] From the tin mines in the Cassiterides, Devon, and Cornwall.

[116] We see here an instance of the manner in which some stories of miracles were formed. Leontius, who heard the story from the clergy acquainted with all the circumstances, says that the bearer of the pots told the Patriarch that they contained money; but that, for greater security, they were labelled honey. But Metaphrastes, in telling the story, says that, miraculously, the honey was converted into gold.

[116] This shows how some miracle stories were created. Leontius, who learned the story from the clergy familiar with all the details, mentions that the person carrying the pots informed the Patriarch that they held money; however, to keep it safe, they were marked as containing honey. On the other hand, Metaphrastes, while recounting the tale, states that, miraculously, the honey turned into gold.


January 24.

S. Timothy, B. M. at Ephesus, a.d. 97.
SS. Babylus, B., and Companions, MM., at Antioch, 3rd cent.
S. Felician, B. M. of Foligni, in Italy, a.d. 250.
S. Macedonius, H., in Syria, beginning of 5th cent.
S. Eusebia, V., at Mylasa, in Caria (Asia Minor), 5th cent.
S. Cadoc, Ab., in Wales, and M., 6th cent.
S. Zosimus, B. of Babylon, in Egypt, 6th cent.

S. Timothy, Bishop and Martyr in Ephesus, A.D. 97.
SS. Babylus, Martyr, and Companions, Martyrs in Antioch, 3rd century.
S. Felician, Bishop and Martyr from Foligno, Italy, A.D. 250.
S. Macedonius, Confessor in Syria, early 5th century.
S. Eusebia, Virgin in Mylasa, Caria (Asia Minor), 5th century.
S. Cadoc, Abbot in Wales and Martyr, 6th century.
S. Zosimus, Bishop of Babylon in Egypt, 6th century.

S. TIMOTHY, B. OF EPHESUS.

(a.d. 97.)

(A.D. 97.)

[By almost all the ancient Latin Martyrologies, S. Timothy is commemorated on this day, but by the Greeks on Jan. 22. The Martyrology called by the name of S. Jerome on Sept. 27. That of Wandelbert on May 16, possibly because of some translation of relics. Authorities: the Epistles of S. Paul, and the Acts of S. Timothy, by Polycrates, Bishop of Ephesus (210), which, however, we have not in their original form, but in a recension of the 5th or 6th century; other Acts of S. Timothy, also in Greek, and a life in Metaphrastes.]

Almost all ancient Latin Martyrologies recognize St. Timothy on this day, while the Greeks honor him on January 22. The Martyrology linked to St. Jerome mentions him on September 27. Wandelbert’s version lists him on May 16, possibly because of the transfer of some relics. Sources include the Epistles of St. Paul and the Acts of St. Timothy by Polycrates, Bishop of Ephesus (210), which we have in a 5th or 6th-century version instead of the original; there are also other Greek Acts of St. Timothy and a biography written by Metaphrastes.

S.

aint Timothy, the beloved disciple of S. Paul, was born at Lystra in Lycaonia. His father was a Gentile, but his mother, Eunice, was a Jewess. She, with Lois, his grandmother, embraced Christianity, and S. Paul commends their faith. S. Timothy had made the writings of the Old Testament his study from infancy.[117] S. Paul took the young man as the companion of his labours,[118] but first he had him circumcised at Lystra, as a condescension to the prejudices of the Jews. He would not suffer S. Titus, born of Gentile parents, to be brought under the law, but Timothy, on account of his Jewish mother, to avoid scandal to the Jews, he submitted to circumcision.

Saint Timothy, the beloved disciple of Saint Paul, was born in Lystra, Lycaonia. His father was a Gentile, but his mother, Eunice, was Jewish. She, along with his grandmother Lois, embraced Christianity, and Saint Paul praises their faith. Saint Timothy had been studying the writings of the Old Testament since he was a child.[117] Saint Paul took the young man as his companion in his work,[118] but first, he had him circumcised in Lystra to accommodate the prejudices of the Jews. He didn’t allow Saint Titus, who was born to Gentile parents, to be subjected to the law, but Timothy, due to his Jewish mother, underwent circumcision to prevent offending the Jews.

When S. Paul was compelled to quit Beræa, he left Timothy behind him to confirm the new converts. But on his arrival at Athens S. Paul sent for him, and sent him to Thessalonica where the Christians were suffering persecution. Thence he returned to S. Paul, who was then at Corinth, to give an account of his mission.[119] From Corinth S. Paul went to Jerusalem, and thence to Ephesus. Here he formed the resolution of returning into Greece, and he sent Timothy and Erastus before him through Macedonia, to apprize the faithful in those parts of his intention of visiting them. Timothy had a special charge to go afterwards to Corinth, to correct certain abuses there. S. Paul awaited his return, in Asia, and then went with him into Macedonia and Achaia.

When Paul had to leave Berea, he left Timothy behind to strengthen the new believers. But when he got to Athens, Paul called for him and sent him to Thessalonica, where the Christians were facing persecution. Timothy then returned to Paul, who was in Corinth, to report on his mission.[119] From Corinth, Paul traveled to Jerusalem and then to Ephesus. There, he decided to return to Greece, so he sent Timothy and Erastus ahead through Macedonia to inform the believers there of his plans to visit them. Timothy was especially tasked with going later to Corinth to address some issues there. Paul waited for his return in Asia, and then they went together into Macedonia and Achaia.

During the subsequent imprisonment of S. Paul, Timothy appears to have been with him. He was ordained Bishop of Ephesus, probably in the year 64. S. Paul wrote his first Epistle to Timothy from Macedonia, in 64; and his second in 65, from Rome, while there in chains, to press him to come to Rome, that he might see him again before he died.

During S. Paul's later imprisonment, Timothy seems to have been with him. He was appointed Bishop of Ephesus, likely in the year 64. S. Paul wrote his first letter to Timothy from Macedonia in 64, and his second in 65, from Rome, while he was in chains, urging him to come to Rome so he could see him again before he died.

S. Timothy was afterwards associated with S. John; and in the Apocalypse he is the Angel, or Bishop, of the Church of Ephesus, to whom Christ sends His message by S. John.[120] During the great annual feast of the Catagogii, which consisted of processions bearing idols, with women lewdly dancing before them, and ending in bloodshed, S. Timothy moved by righteous zeal, rushed into the portico of the temple, and exhorted the frenzied revellers to decency; but this so enraged them, that they fell upon him with sticks and stones, and killed him.

S. Timothy was later connected with S. John; in the Revelation, he is the Angel, or Bishop, of the Church of Ephesus, to whom Christ sends His message through S. John.[120] During the major annual festival of the Catagogii, which featured processions carrying idols, accompanied by women dancing suggestively before them, and ending in violence, S. Timothy, filled with righteous anger, ran into the temple's entrance and urged the crazed partygoers to behave decently; but this infuriated them so much that they attacked him with sticks and stones, ultimately killing him.

S. TIMOTHY.

SS. BABYLUS, B., AND COMPANIONS, MM.

(3rd cent.)

(3rd century)

[Latin Martyrologies Jan. 24; Greek Menæa Sept. 4. Authorities: Eusebius, Sozomen, Philostorgius; and his Acts, written by Leontius, patriarch of Antioch, a.d. 348, which exist only in a fragmentary condition; also S. Chrysostom: Contra Gentiles de S. Babyla, and Hom. de S. Babyla; the latter written in 387.]

[Latin Martyrologies Jan. 24; Greek Menæa Sept. 4. Sources: Eusebius, Sozomen, Philostorgius; and his Acts, written by Leontius, patriarch of Antioch, a.d. 348, which only survive in fragments; also S. Chrysostom: Against Gentiles about S. Babyla, and Hom. about S. Babyla; the latter written in 387.]

On the death of Zebinus, patriarch of Antioch, in the year 237, S. Babylus was elected to the patriarchal throne. The Emperor Philip, passing through Antioch in 244, and being, as is supposed, a catechumen, desired to visit the church. Babylus, informed of his approach, went to meet him at the gate, and forbade his ingress, because he was stained with the blood of his predecessor, Gordian, who had associated him in the empire, and whom he had basely murdered.

On the death of Zebinus, the patriarch of Antioch, in the year 237, S. Babylus was chosen to take over the patriarchal position. When Emperor Philip passed through Antioch in 244, and was believed to be a catechumen, he wanted to visit the church. Babylus, hearing of his arrival, went to meet him at the gate and refused to let him in because he was stained with the blood of his predecessor, Gordian, who had partnered with him in the empire and whom he had treacherously murdered.

According to S. Chrysostom, who relates this anecdote, the Emperor withdrew in confusion. But according to the Acts it was not the Emperor Philip, but the governor, Numerian, who attempted to enter the church, but was repulsed as being an idolator and stained with murder, by the dauntless Bishop; and Nicephorus Callistus, and Philostorgius say the same. Certain it is that S. Babylus suffered under this governor Numerian, son of Carus, who was afterwards, for eight months, emperor, conjointly with his brother Carinus. Babylus, and three little boys, aged respectively twelve, nine, and seven, orphans, whom he brought up in his house, were so cruelly handled by the torturers before the governor, that the boys died, and Babylus expired shortly after in prison. In order to put a stop to the abominations of the famous temple and oracle of Daphne, the zealous Emperor Gallus, brother of Julian, buried the body of S. Babylus opposite the temple gate. From that day [Pg 362] the oracle ceased to speak. The apostate Emperor Julian ordered its removal, in hopes of restoring liberty to the demon who uttered the oracles, and the Christians translated the sacred relics to the city, "singing psalms along the road," says Sozomen. "The best singers went first, and the multitude chanted in chorus, and this was the burden of their song: Confounded are all they that worship carved images, and delight in vain gods."[121]

According to St. Chrysostom, who shares this story, the Emperor left in embarrassment. However, the Acts state that it was not Emperor Philip, but Governor Numerian, who tried to enter the church but was turned away by the fearless Bishop for being an idolater and guilty of murder. Nicephorus Callistus and Philostorgius concur with this account. It is certain that St. Babylus was martyred under Governor Numerian, the son of Carus, who later became emperor for eight months alongside his brother Carinus. Babylus, along with three young orphans aged twelve, nine, and seven, whom he raised in his home, were brutally tortured in front of the governor, resulting in the boys' deaths and Babylus dying shortly after in prison. To put an end to the horrors of the famous temple and oracle of Daphne, the devoted Emperor Gallus, brother of Julian, buried St. Babylus's body at the temple gate. From that moment, the oracle stopped giving responses. The apostate Emperor Julian ordered its removal, hoping to free the demon that spoke the oracles, and the Christians moved the sacred relics to the city, "singing psalms along the way," as Sozomen noted. "The best singers led the way, and the crowd joined in a chorus, singing this refrain: Confounded are all they that worship carved images, and delight in vain gods."[121]

S. MACEDONIUS, H.

(beginning of 5th cent.)

(early 5th century)

[Greek Menæa. Authorities: Theodoret in his Philotheus, c. 13, and his Ecclesiastical Hist. lib. v. c. 20; Nicephorus Callistus, lib. xii. 44. Theodoret's mother was under the direction of S. Macedonius.]

[Greek Menæa. Sources: Theodoret in his Philotheus, chapter 13, and his Ecclesiastical History, book v, chapter 20; Nicephorus Callistus, book xii, 44. Theodoret's mother was under the guidance of S. Macedonius.]

S. Macedonius lived a life of great austerity on barley and water. For forty-five years he inhabited a dry ditch, after that he spent twenty-five in a rude cabin.

S. Macedonius lived a very simple life, surviving on barley and water. For forty-five years, he lived in a dry ditch, and then he spent twenty-five years in a rough cabin.

A sedition having broken out in Antioch, and the people having overthrown the statue of the Empress Flacilla, Theodosius, the Emperor, in a fit of rage, ordered the city to be set on fire and reduced to the condition of a village. Blood would also have been infallibly shed, had not S. Ambrose obtained from Theodosius, shortly before, the passing of the law that no sentence against a city should take effect till thirty days had expired. The Emperor sent his chamberlain, Eleutherius, to Antioch to execute his severe sentence against the city and its inhabitants. As he entered the streets lined with trembling citizens, a ragged hermit, it was Macedonius, plucked him by the cloak and said: "Go to the Emperor, and say to him from me, You are not only [Pg 363] an Emperor, but a man; and you ought not only to remember what is due to an empire, but also to human nature. Man was made in the image and likeness of God. Do not then order the image of God to be destroyed. You pass this cruel sentence, because an image of bronze has been overthrown. And for that will you slay living men, the hair of whose head you cannot make to grow?" When this speech was reported to the Emperor, he regretted his angry sentence, and sent to withdraw it.

A riot broke out in Antioch, and the people tore down the statue of Empress Flacilla. Theodosius, the Emperor, in a rage, ordered the city to be set on fire and reduced to a mere village. Blood would have definitely been shed if S. Ambrose hadn't recently gotten Theodosius to pass a law stating that no punishment against a city could take effect for thirty days. The Emperor sent his chamberlain, Eleutherius, to Antioch to carry out his harsh sentence against the city and its people. As he walked through the streets filled with scared citizens, a rough-looking hermit, named Macedonius, grabbed his cloak and said: "Go to the Emperor and tell him from me, You are not just an Emperor, but a human being; and you should remember not just what is owed to an empire, but also to human nature. Man was created in the image of God. Don't order the destruction of God's image. You pronounce this cruel sentence because a bronze statue has been knocked down. And for that, will you kill living men, the hair on whose heads you can't even make grow?" When this message reached the Emperor, he regretted his angry decree and sent for it to be revoked.

S. CADOC, AB.

(BETWEEN A.D. 522 AND 590.)

(BETWEEN 522 AND 590 A.D.)

[English and Gallican Martyrologies. Through a strange confusion, S. Cadoc of Wales has been identified with S. Sophias of Beneventum in Italy; because S. Cadoc appears in the Martyrologies as S. Cadoc, at Benavenna (Weedon), and S. Sophias or Sophius Bishop of Beneventum being commemorated the same day, the life given by Bollandus, with hesitation, is a confused jumble of these two saints into one. The best account of S. Cadoc is in Rees "Lives of the Cambro-British Saints;" and in La Ville-marqué's La Légende Celtique. There is also a poem composed in honour of S. Cadoc, by Richard ap Rhys of Llancarvan, between 1450 and 1480, published in the Iolo MSS., p. 301, and the sentences, proverbs and aphorisms of S. Cadoc are to be found in Myvrian Archæology, iii. p. 10. The following epitome of his life is from M. de Montalembert's Monks of the West, with additions from M. de Ville-marqué and corrections from Rees.]

[English and Gallican Martyrologies. There's a mix-up where S. Cadoc from Wales has been confused with S. Sophias from Beneventum in Italy. S. Cadoc appears in the Martyrologies as S. Cadoc, at Benavenna (Weedon), while S. Sophias or Sophius, the Bishop of Beneventum, is celebrated on the same day. The account provided by Bollandus, though uncertain, merges these two saints into one. The best description of S. Cadoc can be found in Rees's "Lives of the Cambro-British Saints" and La Villemarqué's "La Légende Celtique." There's also a poem dedicated to S. Cadoc by Richard ap Rhys of Llancarvan, written between 1450 and 1480, published in the Iolo MSS., p. 301, and S. Cadoc's sayings, proverbs, and aphorisms are included in Myvrian Archæology, iii. p. 10. The following summary of his life is from M. de Montalembert's "Monks of the West," with additions from M. de Villemarqué and corrections from Rees.]

Immediately after the period occupied in the annals of Wales by King Arthur and the monk-bishop David, appears S. Cadoc, a personage regarding whom it is difficult to make a distinction between history and legend, but whose life has left a profound impression upon the Keltic races. His father Gwynllyw Filwr, surnamed the Warrior, one of the petty kings of South Wales, having heard much of the beauty of the daughter of a neighbouring chief, had her carried off by a band of three hundred vassals, from the [Pg 364] midst of her sisters, and from the door of her own chamber, in her father's castle. The father hastened to the rescue of his daughter with all his vassals and allies, and soon overtook Gwynllyw, who rode with the young princess at the croup, going softly not to fatigue her. It was not an encounter favourable for the lover: two hundred of his followers perished, but he, himself, succeeded in escaping safely with the lady. Of this rude warrior and this beautiful princess was to be born the saint who has been called the Doctor of the Welsh, and who founded the great monastic establishment of Llancarvan. The very night of his birth, the soldiers, or, to speak more justly, the robber-followers of the king, his father, who had been sent to pillage the neighbours right and left, stole the milch cow of a holy Irish monk, who had no sustenance, he nor his twelve disciples, except the abundant milk of this cow. When informed of this nocturnal theft, the monk got up, put on his shoes in all haste, and hurried to reclaim his cow from the king, who was still asleep. The latter took advantage of the occasion to have his new-born son baptized by the pious solitary, and made him promise to undertake the education and future vocation of the infant. The Irishman gave him the name of Cadoc, (Cattwg,) which means warlike; and then, having recovered his cow, went back to his cell to await the king's son, who was sent to him at the age of seven, having already learned to hunt and fight. The young prince passed twelve years with the Irish monk, whom he served, lighting his fire and cooking his food, and who taught him the rudiments of Latin grammar. Preferring the life of a recluse to the throne of his father, he went to Ireland for three years, to carry on his education at Lismore, a celebrated monastery school, after which he returned to Wales, and continued his studies under a famous Roman rhetorician, newly arrived from Italy. This doctor had [Pg 365] more pupils than money; famine reigned in his school. One day poor Cadoc, who fasted continually, was learning his lesson in his cell, seated before a little table, and leaning his head on his hands, when suddenly a white mouse, coming out of a hole in the wall, jumped on the table, and put down a grain of corn; then Cadoc rising, followed the mouse into a cellar, one of those old Keltic subterranean granaries, remains of which are found to this day in Wales and Cornwall. There Cadoc found a large heap of corn, which served to feed the master and his pupils for many days.

Right after the time of King Arthur and the monk-bishop David in the history of Wales, S. Cadoc emerged, a figure who's hard to separate from myth and reality, but whose life left a significant mark on the Celtic people. His father, Gwynllyw Filwr, known as the Warrior, was one of the minor kings of South Wales. He, enamored by the beauty of a neighboring chief's daughter, kidnapped her with a band of three hundred followers from her own family and the door of her chamber in her father’s castle. The girl's father rushed to rescue her with all his vassals and soon caught up with Gwynllyw, who was riding gently with the young princess on the back of his horse to avoid tiring her out. The encounter didn’t go well for the kidnapper: two hundred of his men died, but he managed to escape with the lady. From this fierce warrior and the lovely princess came the saint known as the Doctor of the Welsh, who founded the great monastic community of Llancarvan. On the very night Cadoc was born, the soldiers—more accurately, the bandit followers of his father—were sent out to plunder the neighbors and stole a cow from a holy Irish monk, who relied on this cow for milk to feed himself and his twelve disciples. When the monk found out about the theft, he hurriedly put on his shoes and went to demand his cow back from the still-sleeping king. Taking advantage of the moment, Gwynllyw had his newborn son baptized by the monk and asked him to take on the boy's upbringing and future calling. The Irishman named him Cadoc (Cattwg), which means "warlike," and after reclaiming his cow, he returned to his cell to wait for the king's son, who was sent to him at the age of seven, already capable of hunting and fighting. The young prince spent twelve years with the Irish monk, assisting him by lighting fires and cooking meals while also learning the basics of Latin grammar. Preferring a hermit’s life to inheriting his father's throne, he went to Ireland for three years to further his education at Lismore, a famous monastery school. He later returned to Wales to study under a well-known Roman rhetorician who had just arrived from Italy. This teacher had more students than resources, and food was scarce in his school. One day, as poor Cadoc, who was always fasting, was studying in his cell seated at a small table with his head resting on his hands, a white mouse suddenly appeared from a hole in the wall, hopped onto the table, and dropped a grain of corn. Cadoc then stood up and followed the mouse into a cellar, one of those ancient Celtic underground granaries that still exist today in Wales and Cornwall. There, Cadoc discovered a huge stash of grain that provided food for the master and his students for many days.

Having early decided to embrace monastic life, he hid himself in a wood, where, after making a narrow escape from assassination by an armed swineherd of a neighbouring chief, he saw, near a forgotten fountain, where a white swan floated, an enormous wild boar, white with age, coming out of his den, and make three bounds, one after another, stopping each time, and turning round to stare furiously at the stranger who had disturbed him in his resting place. Cadoc marked with three branches the three bounds of the wild boar, which afterwards became the site of the church, dormitories, and refectory of the great abbey of Llancarvan. The abbey took its name, "The Church of the Stags," from the legend that two deers from the neighbouring wood came one day to replace two idle and disobedient monks who had refused to perform the necessary labour for the construction of the monastery, saying, "Are we oxen, that we should be yoked to carts, and compelled to drag timber?"

Having chosen to pursue monastic life early on, he secluded himself in a forest. After narrowly escaping assassination by a weapon-wielding swineherd from a nearby chieftain, he noticed an enormous, aging wild boar emerging from its den near a forgotten fountain, where a white swan floated. The boar made three jumps, stopping each time to turn around and glare angrily at the intruder who had disturbed his rest. Cadoc marked the three jumps of the wild boar with three branches, which later became the location for the church, dormitories, and dining hall of the great abbey of Llancarvan. The abbey was named "The Church of the Stags" based on a legend that two deer from the nearby woods arrived one day to take the place of two lazy and disobedient monks who had refused to work on the construction of the monastery, saying, "Are we oxen, that we should be yoked to carts and forced to haul timber?"

The rushes were torn up, the briars and thorns were cut down, and S. Cadoc dug deep trenches to drain the morass formed about the fountain he had discovered. One day, when the chapel he was building was nearly completed, a monk came that way, bearing on his back a leather pouch [Pg 366] containing tools for working metal, and some specimens of his handicraft. His name was Gildas. He was the son of a chief in Westmoreland, and his brother, Aneurin, was one day famous among the bards of Britain.[122] Gildas opened his bag and produced a bell. Its form was that of a tall square cap, and it was made of a mixture of silver and copper, not molten, but hammered.

The reeds were pulled up, the brambles and thorns were cleared away, and S. Cadoc dug deep trenches to drain the swamp that had formed around the fountain he found. One day, as the chapel he was building was almost finished, a monk passed by, carrying a leather pouch on his back filled with metalworking tools and some examples of his work. His name was Gildas. He was the son of a chief from Westmoreland, and his brother, Aneurin, would one day be famous among the bards of Britain.[122] Gildas opened his bag and took out a bell. It was shaped like a tall square cap, made from a blend of silver and copper, not molten, but hammered.

Cadoc took the bell and sounded it, and the note was so sweet that he greatly desired the bell, and asked Gildas to give it him. "No," said the bell-maker; "I have destined it for the altar of S. Peter at Rome." But when Gildas offered the bell to the Pope, the holy father was unable to sound it; then Gildas knew he must give it to the Welsh monk; so he returned to Britain, and offered it to Cadoc, and when he held it, the bell rang sweetly as heretofore.

Cadoc picked up the bell and rang it, and the sound was so beautiful that he really wanted the bell, so he asked Gildas to give it to him. "No," replied the bell-maker; "I have set it aside for the altar of St. Peter in Rome." But when Gildas presented the bell to the Pope, the holy father couldn't ring it; then Gildas realized he had to give it to the Welsh monk. So he went back to Britain and offered it to Cadoc, and when Cadoc held it, the bell rang sweetly just like before.

Llancarvan became a great workshop, where numerous monks, subject to a very severe rule, bowed their bodies under the yoke of continual fatigue, clearing the forests, and cultivating the fields when cleared; it was besides, a great literary and religious school, in which the study of the Holy Scriptures held the van, and was followed by that of the ancient authors, and their more modern commentators. Cadoc loved to sum up, chiefly under the form of sentences in verse and poetical aphorisms, the instructions given to his pupils of the Llancarvan cloister. A great number of such utterances have been preserved. We instance a few. "Truth is the elder daughter of God. Without light nothing is good. Without light there is no piety. Without light there is no religion. Without light there is no faith. The sight of God, that is light." "Without knowledge, no power. Without knowledge, no wisdom. Without knowledge, no freedom. Without knowledge, no beauty. [Pg 367] Without knowledge, no nobility. Without knowledge, no victory. Without knowledge, no honour. Without knowledge, no God." "The best of attitudes is humility. The best of occupations is work. The best of sentiments, pity. The best of cares, justice. The best of pains, peacemaking. The best of sorrows, contrition. The best of characters, generosity." When one of his disciples asked him to define love, he answered, "Love, it is Heaven." "And hate?" asked his disciple. "Hate is hell." "And conscience?" "It is the eye of God in the soul of man." "The best of patriots," said S. Cadoc, "is he who tills the soil."

Llancarvan became a major workshop where many monks, following strict rules, worked hard under the weight of constant fatigue, clearing forests and farming the land once it was cleared. It also served as an important literary and religious school, where the study of the Holy Scriptures was the main focus, followed by ancient texts and their more modern commentators. Cadoc liked to summarize the teachings given to his students at the Llancarvan monastery, mainly in the form of verses and poetic sayings. Many of these phrases have been preserved. Here are a few examples: "Truth is the firstborn daughter of God. Without light, nothing is good. Without light, there is no piety. Without light, there is no religion. Without light, there is no faith. The sight of God is light." "Without knowledge, there is no power. Without knowledge, there is no wisdom. Without knowledge, there is no freedom. Without knowledge, there is no beauty. Without knowledge, there is no nobility. Without knowledge, there is no victory. Without knowledge, there is no honor. Without knowledge, there is no God." "The best attitude is humility. The best job is hard work. The best feeling is compassion. The best concern is justice. The best struggle is peacemaking. The best sorrow is remorse. The best trait is generosity." When one of his students asked him to define love, he replied, "Love is Heaven." "And what about hate?" asked his student. "Hate is hell." "And conscience?" "It is the eye of God in the soul of man." "The greatest patriot," said S. Cadoc, "is the one who farms the land."

When a chief at the head of a band of robbers, came to pillage Llancarvan, S. Cadoc went against him with his monks armed with their harps, chanting and striking the strings. Then the chief recoiled, and left them unmolested. Another chief, enraged at Cadoc receiving his son into his monastery, came with a force to reclaim the youth and destroy the cloister. Cadoc went to meet him, bathed in sunshine, and found the chief and his men groping in darkness. He gave them light, and they returned ashamed to their homes.

When a leader of a group of robbers came to raid Llancarvan, St. Cadoc confronted him with his monks, who were armed only with their harps, singing and strumming the strings. The leader then backed off and left them alone. Another leader, furious that Cadoc had taken his son into the monastery, approached with a force to take the boy back and destroy the cloister. Cadoc went to meet him, bathed in sunlight, while the leader and his men were left stumbling in the dark. Cadoc provided them with light, and they returned home feeling ashamed.

Cadoc had the happiness of assisting in the conversion of his father. In the depths of his cloister he groaned over the rapines and sins of the old robber from whom he derived his life. Accordingly he sent to his father's house three of his monks, to preach repentance. His mother, the beautiful Gwladys, was the first to be touched, and it was not long before she persuaded her husband to agree with her. They called their son to make to him a public confession of their sins, and then, father and son chanted together the psalm, "Exaudiat te Dominus"—"The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble." When this was ended, the king and queen retired into solitude, establishing themselves in two cabins on the bank of a river, where they worked for their [Pg 368] livelihood, and were often visited by their son.

Cadoc was happy to help convert his father. Deep in his monastery, he felt distressed about the robber who had given him life and his father's past wrongdoings. So, he sent three of his monks to his father's home to preach about repentance. His mother, the beautiful Gwladys, was the first to feel moved, and it didn't take long before she convinced her husband to agree with her. They called their son to make a public confession of their sins, and then, father and son sang together the psalm, "Exaudiat te Dominus"—"The Lord hear you in your time of trouble." Once they finished, the king and queen withdrew to solitude, settling in two cabins by a river, where they worked for their living and were often visited by their son.

The invasion of the Saxons obliged S. Cadoc to fly, first to the island of Flat-holmes in the Bristol Channel, and then into Brittany, where he founded a new monastery, on a little desert island of the archipelago of Morbihan, which is still shown from the peninsula of Rhuys; and to make his school accessible to the children of the district, who had to cross to the isle and back again in a boat, he threw a stone bridge four hundred and fifty feet long across this arm of the sea. In this modest retreat the Welsh prince resumed his monastic life, adapting it especially to his ancient scholarly habits. He made his scholars learn Virgil by heart: and one day, while walking with his friend and companion, the famous historian Gildas, with his Virgil under his arm, the abbot began to weep at the thought that the poet, whom he loved so much, might be even then perhaps in hell. At the moment when Gildas reprimanded him severely for that "perhaps," protesting that without any doubt Virgil must be damned, a sudden gust of wind tossed Cadoc's book into the sea. He was much moved by this accident, and, returning to his cell, said to himself, "I will not eat a mouthful of bread, nor drink a drop of water, till I know truly what fate God has allotted to one who sang upon earth as the angels sing in heaven." After this, he fell asleep, and soon after, dreaming, he heard a soft voice addressing him, "Pray for me, pray for me," said the voice, "never be weary of praying; I shall yet sing eternally the mercy of the Lord."

The Saxon invasion forced S. Cadoc to flee, first to Flat-holmes Island in the Bristol Channel, and then to Brittany, where he established a new monastery on a small uninhabited island in the Morbihan archipelago, which can still be seen from the Rhuys peninsula. To make his school accessible to local children, who had to travel back and forth to the island by boat, he built a stone bridge four hundred and fifty feet long across this stretch of water. In this humble retreat, the Welsh prince resumed his monastic life, especially adapting it to his old scholarly habits. He had his students memorize Virgil, and one day, while walking with his friend and fellow historian Gildas, with his copy of Virgil under his arm, the abbot began to cry at the thought that the poet he loved so much might be in hell. At that moment, Gildas scolded him harshly for that "perhaps," insisting that there was no doubt Virgil must be condemned. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew Cadoc's book into the sea. He was deeply affected by this incident and returned to his cell, saying to himself, "I will not eat a single bite of bread or drink a drop of water until I truly know what fate God has given to someone who sang on earth like the angels sing in heaven." After this, he fell asleep, and soon after, while dreaming, he heard a gentle voice calling to him, "Pray for me, pray for me," the voice said, "never tire of praying; I will forever sing the Lord's mercy."

The next morning a fisherman brought him a salmon, and the Saint found in the fish the book which the wind had snatched out of his hands.

The next morning, a fisherman brought him a salmon, and the Saint discovered in the fish the book that the wind had taken from his hands.

After a sojourn of several years in Brittany, Cadoc left his new community flourishing under the government of another pastor, and to put in practice that maxim which he loved to [Pg 369] repeat to his followers:—"Wouldst thou find glory? march to the grave." He returned to Britain, not to find again the ancient peace and prosperity of his beloved retreat of Llancarvan, but to establish himself in the very centre of the Saxon settlements, and console the numerous Christians who had survived the massacres of the Conquest, and lived under the yoke of a foreign and heathen race. He settled at Weedon, in the county of Northampton;[123] and it was there that he awaited his martyrdom. One morning, when vested in the ornaments of his priestly office, as he was celebrating the Divine Sacrifice, a furious band of Saxon cavalry, chasing the Christians before them, entered pell-mell into the church, and crowded towards the altar. The Saint continued the sacrifice as calmly as he had begun it. A Saxon chief, urging on his horse, and brandishing his lance, went up to him and struck him to the heart. Cadoc fell on his knees; and his last desire, his last thought, were still for his dear countrymen. "Lord," he said, while dying, "invisible King, Saviour Jesus, grant me one grace,—protect the Christians of my country!"

After spending several years in Brittany, Cadoc left his new community thriving under the care of another pastor, to put into practice the saying he often shared with his followers: "Do you want to find glory? Move toward the grave." He returned to Britain, not to rediscover the old peace and prosperity of his beloved Llancarvan, but to make his home in the heart of the Saxon settlements, and to comfort the many Christians who had survived the massacres of the Conquest, living under the oppression of a foreign and pagan people. He settled in Weedon, in Northamptonshire, and it was there that he awaited his martyrdom. One morning, while dressed in his priestly robes and celebrating the Divine Sacrifice, a violent group of Saxon cavalry, chasing Christians before them, burst into the church and rushed toward the altar. The Saint continued the sacrifice as calmly as he had started it. A Saxon chief, spurring his horse and waving his lance, approached him and struck him to the heart. Cadoc fell to his knees; his last wish, his final thought, were still for his fellow countrymen. "Lord," he said as he was dying, "invisible King, Saviour Jesus, grant me one favor — protect the Christians of my country!"

S. Paul, after a Bronze S. Paul, after a Bronze in the Christian Museum at the Vatican.

FOOTNOTES:

[117] 2 Tim. iii. 14.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ 2 Tim. 3:14.

[118] 1 Thess. iii. 2; 1 Cor. iv. 17.

[118] 1 Thess. 3:2; 1 Cor. 4:17.

[119] Acts xviii.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Acts 18.

[120] Rev. ii. 1, 7.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Rev. 2:1, 7.

[121] Hist. Eccl. v. c. 19: also Socrates, Eccl. Hist. iii. 19.

[121] Hist. Eccl. v. c. 19: also Socrates, Eccl. Hist. iii. 19.

[122] The Gododdin, a poem descriptive of the massacre of the British chiefs at Stonehenge by Hengest, was composed by Aneurin whilst in prison.

[122] The Gododdin, a poem that describes the slaughter of the British leaders at Stonehenge by Hengest, was written by Aneurin while he was imprisoned.

[123] The ancient name of Weedon having been Benavenna, this has helped to cause the confusion which arose between S. Cadoc and S. Sophias of Benevento in Italy.

[123] The old name of Weedon was Benavenna, which has contributed to the mix-up that occurred between S. Cadoc and S. Sophias of Benevento in Italy.


January 25.

Conversion of S. Paul.
S. Artemas, M., at Puteoli.
SS. Juventine and Maximus, MM., at Antioch, a.d. 362.
S. Publius, Ab. of Zeugma, in Syria, 4th cent.
S. Apollo, Ab. in Egypt, circ. a.d. 395.
S. Mares, Ab. in Syria, 5th cent.
S. Præjectus, B., and Companions, at Clermont, a.d. 674.
S. Poppo, Ab. of Stavelot, in Belgium, a.d. 1048.
B. Henry of Suso, O.S.D., at Ulm, in Germany, a.d. 1365.

Conversion of St. Paul.
St. Artemas, Martyr, at Puteoli.
Sts. Juventine and Maximus, Martyrs, at Antioch, A.D. 362.
St. Publius, Abbot of Zeugma, in Syria, 4th century.
St. Apollo, Abbot in Egypt, around A.D. 395.
St. Mares, Abbot in Syria, 5th century.
St. Præjectus, Bishop, and Companions, at Clermont, A.D. 674.
St. Poppo, Abbot of Stavelot, in Belgium, A.D. 1048.
Blessed Henry of Suso, Order of St. Dominic, at Ulm, in Germany, A.D. 1365.

THE CONVERSION OF S. PAUL.

[The circumstances of the Conversion of S. Paul are so fully recorded in the Acts of the Holy Apostles, chaps. xix., xxii., xxvi., as not to need repetition here, being familiar to all. Among the Greeks, S. Ananias, who baptized S. Paul, is commemorated on this day.]

The details of Saint Paul's Conversion are well documented in the Acts of the Holy Apostles, chapters 19, 22, and 26, so there's no need to repeat them here, as everyone is already familiar with them. In Greek tradition, Saint Ananias, who baptized Saint Paul, is celebrated on this day.

S. ARTEMAS, M.

[Commemorated at Puteoli and Naples under the name of Artemas, but in the ancient Martyrology attributed to S. Jerome, he is called Antimasius, a mistake of copyists for Artimasius or Artemas. The Acts are those preserved by the Church of Puteoli, and seem to be founded on others of great antiquity; they exist only in a fragmentary condition, and give no clue to the date of the martyrdom.]

Known in Puteoli and Naples as Artemas, but in the old Martyrology attributed to St. Jerome, he is called Antimasius, which is a copying mistake for Artimasius or Artemas. The Acts are those kept by the Church of Puteoli and seem to be based on other ancient documents; they only exist in fragments and do not specify when the martyrdom took place.

A.

rtemas was a pious Christian boy in Puteoli, in the south of Italy. He was sent to school to one Cathageta, a heathen. Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh, and the boy, filled with faith, spoke of his belief to some of his fellow-scholars. It was soon known among the boys that Artemas was a Christian, and it came to the master's ears. Cathageta lectured and browbeat the little scholar, and threatened him with the rod. "You may whip," said the brave boy; "but you will only whip my faith deeper into me." Then the master, in a rage, shouted to the boys to punish him, and the cruel tiger-cubs, educated to bloodshed by the atrocities of the arena, fell upon him with their iron pens, used for scratching on wax tablets, and stabbed him to death.

Artemas was a devout Christian boy living in Puteoli, in southern Italy. He was sent to school with a teacher named Cathageta, who was a pagan. As the saying goes, "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks," and the boy, filled with faith, shared his beliefs with some of his classmates. It didn't take long for the other boys to realize that Artemas was a Christian, and soon it got back to the teacher. Cathageta scolded and intimidated the young student, even threatening him with physical punishment. "You can whip me," said the brave boy, "but all it will do is make my faith even stronger." Enraged, the teacher commanded the other boys to punish him, and the cruel, bloodthirsty classmates, trained to be violent by the horrors of the arena, attacked him with their metal pens, which they used for writing on wax tablets, and killed him.

THE CONVERSION OF S. PAUL.

SS. JUVENTINE AND MAXIMUS, MM., AT ANTIOCH.

(a.d. 362.)

(A.D. 362.)

[Authorities: the 40th Homily of S. John Chrysostom; Theodoret, Hist. Eccl. lib. iii. c. 15; Nicephorus Callistus, lib. x. c. 12.]

[Authorities: the 40th Homily of St. John Chrysostom; Theodoret, Hist. Eccl. book iii. chapter 15; Nicephorus Callistus, book x. chapter 12.]

Theodoret says:—"The Emperor Julian continued to oppose religion with greater and greater boldness, while he assumed the specious appearance of clemency, in order to lay snares to entrap men, and seduce them into irreligion. He cast things offered to idols into the fountains of the city of Antioch, so that no one could drink of the streams without partaking of the hateful sacrifices. He defiled in the same way everything that was sold in the market-place; for he had water which had been offered to idols sprinkled on the bread, meat, fruit, herbs, and all other articles of food. The Christians lamented these abominations, yet partook of the food according to the precept of the Apostle. (1 Cor. x. 25.) Two of the Emperor's guards, who were his shield-bearers and companions in arms, vehemently deplored, at a certain convivial meeting, the perpetration of such odious deeds. One of those who had been present acquainted the Emperor with this speech. The Emperor sent for these two men, and asked what it was that they had said. This question they answered thus, in the warmth of their zeal: 'O [Pg 372] Emperor, having been brought up in the true religion, and having been accustomed to the admirable laws of Constantine, we cannot but be deeply grieved at witnessing the very food contaminated by being mixed with idol offerings. We lamented this privately, and now, publicly, we express our regret. This is the only cause of sorrow which we experience under your government.' On hearing these words the Emperor threw off the mask of clemency. Such excruciating tortures were, by his orders, inflicted on these two men, that they expired under them. The Church of Antioch honoured them as defenders of religion, and interred them in a magnificent tomb; and even to this day an annual festival is celebrated in their honour. Their names were Juventius (Juventinus) and Maximus."

Theodoret says:—"Emperor Julian continued to challenge religion with increasing boldness while pretending to be merciful, aiming to trap people and lead them into irreligion. He dumped offerings made to idols into the fountains of Antioch, making it impossible for anyone to drink from the streams without participating in the detestable sacrifices. He tainted everything sold in the marketplace by sprinkling water that had been offered to idols on the bread, meat, fruit, herbs, and all other food items. The Christians mourned these abominations but still ate the food, following the Apostle's teaching. (1 Cor. x. 25.) At one gathering, two of the Emperor's guards, who were his shield-bearers and fellow soldiers, expressed their deep sorrow over such disgraceful acts. One of those present reported their comments to the Emperor. He summoned the two men and asked what they had said. They responded passionately, 'O Emperor, having been raised in the true faith and familiar with Constantine's admirable laws, we cannot help but feel deeply troubled witnessing the very food defiled by being mixed with idol offerings. We mourned this privately and now publicly express our regret. This is the only sorrow we experience under your rule.' Upon hearing this, the Emperor dropped his pretense of mercy. He ordered such horrific tortures upon the two men that they died from them. The Church of Antioch honored them as defenders of the faith and buried them in a grand tomb; to this day, an annual festival is held in their honor. Their names were Juventius (Juventinus) and Maximus."

S. APOLLO, AB. IN THE THEBAID.

(about a.d. 395.)

(around A.D. 395.)

[Commemorated on this day by Greeks and Latins alike, though some Latin Martyrologies note him on the 18th April. Authorities: his life by Palladius in the Hist. Lausiaca; and Sozomen, lib. iii. c. 14, who calls him Apollonius. Palladius is an excellent authority, for during his residence among the hermits of the Thebaid, he was personally acquainted with Apollo.]

[Remembered today by both Greeks and Latins, although some Latin Martyrologies list him on April 18th. Sources include his life written by Palladius in the Hist. Lausiaca, and Sozomen, book III, chapter 14, who calls him Apollonius. Palladius is a trustworthy source, as during his time living among the hermits of the Thebaid, he personally knew Apollo.]

This illustrious hermit began his discipline of himself by a solitary life in the desert, at the age of fifteen. He spent forty years by himself, and then, called by God to guide the souls of others, he became head of a congregation of monks in Upper Egypt. In the reign of Julian the Apostate, hearing that his brother, who was in the army, was imprisoned for his religion, he went at the head of his monks to visit him. The tribune entering the prison shortly after, and seeing so many monks within, ordered the gates to be [Pg 373] closed, and vowed he would enlist them all as soldiers. But in the night an angel came, bearing a lamp, and opened the doors of the prison and led them forth, and they escaped with great joy to their beloved desert. About fifty monks obeyed him; but he did not confine his sympathies to them. Hearing that the country people were about to fight one another about some trifling subject of contention, Apollo rushed from his rocks, and flinging himself amongst them, conjured them not to shed one another's blood. One party promised to retire, but the other, headed by a redoubted robber, confident in his powers, held out. Then Apollo turned to the chief and said, "My son, lay down thine arms, and I will pray God to pardon thy many offences." The man cast away his weapons, and threw himself at the feet of the abbot. On another occasion he heard that a village procession of a famous wooden idol was about to take place; he went down, and kneeling, prayed God to prevent it. Then the image became immovable, so that neither priest nor people could take it from its place in the temple. The priests said, "A Christian has done this." "Yes," said Apollo, "I have done it by my prayers," and he exhorted the people to forsake the worship of such vain gods.

This famous hermit started his discipline by living alone in the desert at the age of fifteen. He spent forty years by himself, and then, called by God to guide others, he became the leader of a community of monks in Upper Egypt. During the reign of Julian the Apostate, he learned that his brother, who was in the army, had been imprisoned for his faith, so he went with a group of monks to visit him. The tribune entered the prison shortly after and, seeing so many monks inside, ordered the gates to be [Pg 373] closed, promising to enlist them all as soldiers. But that night, an angel appeared with a lamp, opened the prison doors, and led them out, allowing them to escape joyfully back to their beloved desert. About fifty monks followed him, but his compassion extended beyond them. When he heard that the local people were about to fight over a trivial matter, Apollo rushed from his rocks, throwing himself among them and urging them not to harm each other. One side agreed to back down, but the other, led by a notorious robber, stood firm. Then Apollo addressed the leader, saying, "My son, lay down your arms, and I will pray to God to forgive your many wrongs." The man dropped his weapons and fell at the feet of the abbot. On another occasion, he learned that a village was planning a procession for a famous wooden idol; he went down, knelt, and prayed to God to stop it. Then the statue became stuck, so neither the priest nor the people could move it from its place in the temple. The priests exclaimed, "A Christian has done this." Apollo replied, "Yes, I did this through my prayers," and he urged the people to abandon the worship of such false gods.

One Easter day the community had only some old stale loaves and a few dried olives, and they lamented that on so great a day they must fast, as in Lent. "Be of good cheer," said the abbot, "let each ask for what he likes best, and on such a day the loving God will give it him." But they would not ask, thinking themselves unworthy of such a favour. But he said, "Fear not, I will pray." Then they all knelt down, and Apollo asked, and they said Amen. Now as this response came, behold there arrived men and asses bringing a present to the monks, and it consisted of fresh loaves, pomegranates, citrons, honey in the comb, nuts, and a pitcher of fresh milk, grapes and figs, and large luscious dates [Pg 374] (nicolai).

One Easter day, the community had only some old, stale loaves and a few dried olives, and they were upset that on such an important day they had to fast, just like in Lent. "Cheer up," said the abbot, "let everyone ask for what they want most, and on such a day, our loving God will provide it." But they didn’t want to ask, thinking they were unworthy of such a gift. He reassured them, "Don't be afraid; I will pray." Then they all knelt down, and Apollo asked, and they responded with Amen. Just as that response was given, men and donkeys arrived carrying a gift for the monks, which included fresh loaves, pomegranates, citrons, honeycomb, nuts, a pitcher of fresh milk, grapes, figs, and large, sweet dates. [Pg 374] (nicolai).

The monks of Apollo communicated every day, and some ate nothing from communion to communion, living only on this heavenly food. These were some of the pieces of advice Apollo gave to his monks:—"It behoves us to be ever joyous, for we ought not to be sad about our salvation. The Gentiles are sad, the Jews weep, and sinners mourn, all those whose affections are fixed on earthly things have cause to be agitated in mind, but not we." And it was so, that the monks were always cheerful and gay, and if any appeared sad, the abbot knew the cause must be sin, and he sent for him. "Let the monks communicate every day, for those who withdraw from the Sacraments, from them God withdraws Himself. But he who approaches them assiduously receives the Saviour. That is a salutary saying, 'He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood dwelleth in Me, and I in him.' Daily, therefore, let the monks prepare themselves, and daily let them receive it." "Let asceticism," he added, "be secret. I do not like those who put chains on their necks,—they do it to be seen of men; let them rather fast in their cells, where no one will know anything about it."

The monks of Apollo communicated every day, and some ate nothing between communions, surviving solely on this heavenly food. Here are some pieces of advice Apollo shared with his monks: “We should always be joyful because we shouldn’t be sad about our salvation. The Gentiles are sad, the Jews weep, and sinners mourn; all those whose hearts are set on earthly things have reasons to be troubled, but not us.” And indeed, the monks were always cheerful and happy, and if anyone seemed sad, the abbot knew it must be due to sin, so he summoned them. “Let the monks take communion every day, for those who stay away from the Sacraments distance themselves from God. But whoever approaches them regularly receives the Savior. There’s a wise saying, ‘Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood dwells in Me, and I in him.’ Therefore, the monks should prepare themselves every day and receive it daily.” “Let asceticism,” he added, “be kept private. I don’t appreciate those who wear chains around their necks—to be seen by others; they should fast in their cells where no one will know about it.”

S. MARES, AB. IN SYRIA.

(5th cent.)

(5th cent.)

[From the Philotheus of Theodoret, cap. 20.]

[From the Philotheus of Theodoret, cap. 20.]

S. Mares spent thirty-seven years in a small damp cell, constant in prayer. Theodoret says that towards his end, "I went to his door, and he bade me open. He was aged ninety, and wore common goat's hair garments. All his food was bread and salt. As, for long, he had desired to see the Holy Sacrifice offered, but was not able, he asked that [Pg 375] the oblation of the Divine Gift might be made there. I willingly obeyed, and having ordered the sacred vessels to be brought from the village, and using for an altar the hands of the deacons, I offered the mystic, divine, and salutary Sacrifice. But he was filled with all spiritual delight, and thought that he saw heaven, and declared he had never had such joy. I was greatly pleased with him, and I should be doing him and myself a wrong, if after his death I did not praise him."

S. Mares spent thirty-seven years in a small, damp cell, dedicated to prayer. Theodoret recounts that towards the end of his life, "I went to his door, and he told me to come in. He was ninety years old and wore simple garments made of goat's hair. His only food was bread and salt. For a long time, he had wanted to see the Holy Sacrifice offered but was unable to, so he asked that [Pg 375] the Divine Gift be presented there. I gladly agreed, and after arranging for the sacred vessels to be brought from the village and using the deacons' hands as an altar, I offered the mystical, divine, and life-giving Sacrifice. He was filled with spiritual joy and felt as though he were seeing heaven, declaring he had never experienced such happiness. I was very pleased with him, and it would be a disservice to him and to myself if I didn’t honor him after his passing."

S. PRÆJECTUS, B., AND OTHERS, MM., AT CLERMONT.

(a.d. 674.)

(A.D. 674.)

[S. Præjectus, in French S. Priest, Priets, Prie, or Prix, is commemorated in the Gallican, Belgic, Sarum, and other Martyrologies. Authority: his life by two contemporary writers.]

S. Præjectus, in French S. Priest, Priets, Prie, or Prix, is honored in the Gallican, Belgic, Sarum, and other Martyrologies. Source: his life as recorded by two contemporary writers.

S. Præjectus, Bishop of Clermont in Auvergne, severely rebuked one Hector, a noble of Marseilles, for having ravished a young lady of Auvergne, and seized on her estates. His remonstrances having been disregarded, he hastened to King Childeric II. to lay his complaint before him, and the king gave orders for the execution of Hector. On the return of the Saint to his see, some friends of Hector waylaid him at a place called Volvic, near Clermont, and murdered him.

S. Præjectus, the Bishop of Clermont in Auvergne, strongly criticized a noble named Hector from Marseilles for assaulting a young woman from Auvergne and taking her property. When Hector ignored his warnings, the bishop quickly went to King Childeric II to file his complaint, and the king ordered Hector's execution. On his way back to his diocese, some of Hector's friends ambushed the bishop at a location called Volvic, near Clermont, and killed him.

S. POPPO, AB. OF STAVELOT.

(a.d. 1048.)

(A.D. 1048.)

[Modern Roman Martyrology. The name occurs in no ancient Martyrologies; it owes its insertion to Baronius. His life was written by Everhelm, abbot of Hautmont, his contemporary, in 1069.]

[Modern Roman Martyrology. The name doesn’t appear in any ancient Martyrologies; it was added by Baronius. Everhelm, the abbot of Hautmont, and his contemporary wrote about his life in 1069.]

The blessed Poppo, born in Flanders in 978, as a youth [Pg 376] served in arms. He made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and, on his return, engaged himself to the daughter of his friend Frumhold. When the time of his marriage drew nigh, Poppo mounted his horse one night, together with some retainers, to ride to fetch his bride. He had not gone far before a dazzling flash of light illumined him within, in his soul, and bathed his body in a blaze of glory. As it faded away, he spurred on his horse, and then noticed that a flame burnt on the point of his spear; it was as though he rode bearing a tall church taper in his hand. Astounded at this marvel, he reined in his steed, and turning to his companions said, "God calls me to another life."

The blessed Poppo, born in Flanders in 978, served as a soldier in his youth. He made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and upon his return, he became engaged to the daughter of his friend Frumhold. When the time for his marriage approached, Poppo mounted his horse one night with some attendants to go get his bride. He hadn't traveled far when a brilliant flash of light filled him up inside, touching his soul and wrapping his body in a radiant glow. As the light faded, he urged his horse on, only to notice that a flame flickered at the tip of his spear; it was like he was carrying a tall church candle in his hand. Amazed by this wonder, he pulled back on the reins and turned to his companions, saying, "God is calling me to a different life."

Then he left home and went, with the light still illuminating his soul, and served in a hospital for the sick. One day a miserable leper was brought in so covered with sores that he could not be placed with the other inmates. Thinking that the poor creature was cold in the night, Poppo went to him with his own coverlid, and laid it over him. Next morning the leper was whole, the charity of Poppo had healed him. Richard, abbot of Verdun, appointed Poppo to rule the abbey of S. Vedast, which had fallen into scandalous disorder. When the Emperor Henry II. was in the Betawe, between the two branches of the Rhine, Poppo, having to visit him about some affairs concerning his monastery, found the prince enjoying a favourite pastime of his; a naked man was smeared with honey and exposed to bears; and the sport consisted in the bears trying to lick the man, and he eluding their embraces. As this sport not unfrequently ended in the man being injured, and sometimes killed, Poppo rebuked the king, and brought him to a sense of the impropriety of encouraging such coarse and dangerous amusements. That this sport was popular, appears from Hincmar, Archbishop of Rheims, being obliged to forbid his clergy and monks attending either it or bear-bating.

Then he left home and went out, with the light still shining in his soul, and served in a hospital for the sick. One day, a wretched leper was brought in so covered with sores that he couldn't be placed with the other patients. Thinking the poor man was cold at night, Poppo went to him with his own blanket and laid it over him. The next morning, the leper was completely healed; Poppo's kindness had cured him. Richard, the abbot of Verdun, appointed Poppo to lead the abbey of S. Vedast, which had become scandalously disorganized. When Emperor Henry II. was in the Betawe, between the two branches of the Rhine, Poppo, needing to discuss some matters related to his monastery, found the prince enjoying one of his favorite pastimes: a naked man was smeared with honey and exposed to bears; the sport involved the bears trying to lick the man while he dodged their advances. Since this activity often ended with the man getting hurt or even killed, Poppo scolded the king and made him realize how inappropriate it was to promote such crude and dangerous entertainment. The popularity of this sport is evident from Hincmar, the Archbishop of Rheims, having to forbid his clergy and monks from attending either it or bear-baiting.

On another occasion, when Poppo was on his way to the Emperor, then at Strasburg, as he passed through the Ellisgau, with some of his monks, they saw a wolf carry off a man by the neck into a marsh. Poppo at once called his monks to the rescue. They were unable, on account of the loose texture of the swamp, to go direct to where the man lay, but they surrounded the marsh, and following the bloody traces, recovered the man, who was much mangled; they bound up his wounds, and he finally recovered. What became of the wolf they saw not, and hoped, and hoping believed, he was smothered in the marsh.

On another occasion, when Poppo was on his way to the Emperor in Strasbourg, he and some of his monks were passing through Ellisgau when they saw a wolf dragging a man by the neck into a swamp. Poppo immediately called his monks for help. They couldn’t get directly to the man because of the unstable ground, but they surrounded the marsh and, following the bloody trail, managed to retrieve the man, who was badly hurt. They tended to his wounds, and he eventually recovered. As for the wolf, they didn’t see it again and hoped, truly believed, that it got stuck and drowned in the marsh.

Poppo was afterwards created abbot of Stavelot, where the monks had fallen into grave disorders. His efforts to reform them so irritated some of the worst, that they attempted to poison him, but failed. Having thoroughly reformed the monastery, he rebuilt and beautified the church, and died on the feast of the Conversion of S. Paul, after having received extreme unction from the hands of the abbot Everhelm, who is his biographer.

Poppo was later appointed abbot of Stavelot, where the monks were in serious disarray. His attempts to reform them angered some of the most troublesome ones, who tried to poison him, but they were unsuccessful. After fully reforming the monastery, he renovated and adorned the church, and died on the feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, after receiving the sacrament of the sick from Abbot Everhelm, who is also his biographer.

Alpha and Omega Alpha and Omega; the beginning and the end.


January 26.

S. Polycarp, B. M. of Smyrna, a.d. 167.
S. Simeon the Old, Ab. in Syria, end of 4th cent.
S. Paula, W., at Bethlehem, a.d. 404.
S. Xenophon, his Wife and Sons, 5th cent.
S. Bathild, Q., in France, circ. a.d. 670.
S. Theoritgitha, V., at Barking, in Essex, 7th cent.
S. Gobert, C., at Foss, in Belgium.
S. Alberic, Ab. of Citeaux, beginning of 12th cent.
B. Haseka, R., in Westphalia, a.d. 1261.

St. Polycarp, Martyr of Smyrna, A.D. 167.
St. Simeon the Elder, Abbot in Syria, late 4th century.
St. Paula, Woman, in Bethlehem, A.D. 404.
St. Xenophon, his Wife and Sons, 5th century.
St. Bathild, Queen, in France, around A.D. 670.
St. Theoritgitha, Virgin, in Barking, Essex, 7th century.
St. Gobert, Confessor, in Foss, Belgium.
St. Alberic, Abbot of Citeaux, early 12th century.
Blessed Haseka, Religious, in Westphalia, A.D. 1261.

S. POLYCARP, B. M. OF SMYRNA.

(a.d. 167.)

(A.D. 167.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authorities: His Acts, written by the Church of Smyrna immediately after his martyrdom, Eusebius, &c.]

[Roman Martyrology. Sources: His Acts, documented by the Church of Smyrna shortly after his martyrdom, Eusebius, etc.]

S.

aint Polycarp was converted to Christianity in the year 80, when quite young, and he had the privilege of accompanying those who had seen Jesus Christ. S. John, whose special disciple he was, consecrated him Bishop of Smyrna in the year 96. He is supposed to be the Angel or Bishop of the Church of Smyrna, to whom alone, in the messages recorded in the Apocalypse, did Jesus Christ address praise unmixed with blame.[124] "I know thy works, and tribulation, and poverty, (but thou art rich), and I know the blasphemy of them which say they are Jews, and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan. Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer; behold, the devil shall cast some of you into prison, that ye may be tried; and ye shall have tribulation ten days; be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life."

Saint Polycarp was converted to Christianity in the year 80, when he was still quite young, and he had the privilege of being with those who had seen Jesus Christ. St. John, who was his special disciple, appointed him as Bishop of Smyrna in the year 96. He is believed to be the Angel or Bishop of the Church of Smyrna, to whom Jesus Christ addressed praise without any blame in the messages recorded in the Apocalypse. "I know your works, and your tribulation, and poverty, (but you are rich), and I know the blasphemy of those who say they are Jews and are not, but are the synagogue of Satan. Do not fear any of those things which you are about to suffer; look, the devil will throw some of you into prison so that you may be tested; and you will have tribulation for ten days; be faithful until death, and I will give you a crown of life."

In the year 158, S. Polycarp visited Rome. The cause of his visit is not exactly declared; but he had a conference with Pope Anicetus concerning the time of celebrating the Paschal Feast; and the disputes upon this subject were carried on so warmly, in the second century, that perhaps we are to seek no other reason for Polycarp undertaking so long a journey. The first day of the week, or Sunday, appears to have been held sacred, on account of our Lord's Resurrection, from the very beginning of the Church. The eastern and western Christians agreed in keeping a solemn fast for some time preceding the feast of the Resurrection. There was, however, one important difference between them. The Asiatic Christians kept a feast on the true Passover, as well as observing the great Easter festival. The western Christians kept the Paschal feast on Easter Day. By separating the Passover feast from the feast of the Resurrection, the Easterns had a burst of festivity interrupting discordantly the hush of the great fast, which caused great offence to the western sense of propriety. Both parties laid claims to apostolic authority for their respective customs. The eastern Christians asserted that SS. John and Philip had sanctioned their custom; while the brethren at Rome defended themselves by the authority of SS. Peter and Paul. This being the case, and neither of the parties being willing to concede, a conference between an Asiatic Bishop and the Bishop of Rome seemed a very desirable measure. Polycarp had been personally known to S. John, and had been appointed by him to his bishopric. Anicetus was, singularly enough, the seventh Bishop of Rome since the beginning of the century, but Polycarp had occupied the see of Smyrna during the whole of that time. S. Irenæus, who relates the conference between Anicetus and Polycarp, states that neither could convince the other. The meeting was, however, conducted and terminated in [Pg 380] perfect amity. The two bishops were firm, and wedded to their respective customs; but the bond of peace was not broken between them; and as proof of their mutual goodwill, they received together the supersubstantial food, the Pope allowing Polycarp, out of respect for his age and character, to celebrate.

In the year 158, S. Polycarp went to Rome. The exact reason for his visit isn’t clear, but he met with Pope Anicetus to discuss when to celebrate the Paschal Feast. The debates on this topic were quite intense in the second century, which might explain why Polycarp traveled such a long distance. From the very beginning of the Church, the first day of the week, or Sunday, was considered sacred because of our Lord's Resurrection. Eastern and western Christians agreed to observe a solemn fast for a period before the Resurrection feast. However, there was a significant difference between them. The Asian Christians celebrated a feast on the actual Passover, in addition to observing the major Easter festival. On the other hand, western Christians celebrated the Paschal feast on Easter Day. By separating the Passover from the Resurrection feast, the Easterners created a burst of celebration that disrupted the solemnity of the great fast, which was quite offensive to the Western sense of decorum. Both sides claimed apostolic authority for their traditions. The Eastern Christians argued that SS. John and Philip supported their practice, while the Romans defended their position citing SS. Peter and Paul. Given this, and because neither side was willing to yield, a discussion between an Eastern Bishop and the Bishop of Rome seemed like a good idea. Polycarp was personally acquainted with S. John, who had appointed him to his bishopric. Interestingly, Anicetus was the seventh Bishop of Rome since the beginning of the century, while Polycarp had been the Bishop of Smyrna throughout that time. S. Irenæus, who describes the meeting between Anicetus and Polycarp, says that neither could persuade the other. However, the meeting ended in perfect friendship. Both bishops were steadfast in their customs, but their bond of peace remained intact. As a sign of their mutual goodwill, they shared the bread together, with the Pope permitting Polycarp, out of respect for his age and status, to officiate.

In the sixth year of the reign of Marcus Aurelius, an exhibition of games in Smyrna kept the city in excitement for some days, and the Christians were made to fight with wild beasts for the amusement of the populace. Polycarp himself was advised to withdraw from the storm, and he concealed himself for some time at a short distance from the city. His retreat was betrayed by a boy, who was threatened with the rack unless he discovered him. Herod, the magistrate, whose office it was to prevent misdemeanours, sent horsemen by night to beset his lodgings. The Saint was above stairs in bed, but refused to make his escape, saying, "God's will be done." He went down, met them at the door, ordered them a handsome supper, and desired only some time for prayer before he went with them. This granted, he began his prayer standing, and continued it in that posture for two hours, recommending to God his own flock and the whole Church, with so much earnestness and devotion, that several of those that were come to seize him, repented having undertaken the commission. They set him on an ass, and were conducting him towards the city, when he was met on the road by Herod and his father, Nicetes, who took him into their chariot, and endeavoured to persuade him to a little compliance, saying, "What harm is there in sacrificing, to escape death?" The bishop at first was silent, in imitation of our Saviour: but being pressed, he gave them this resolute answer, "I shall never do what you desire of me." At these words, they thrust him out of the chariot with such violence, that his leg was bruised by [Pg 381] the fall. The holy man went forward cheerfully to the place where the people were assembled. Upon his entering it, a voice from heaven was heard by many: "Polycarp, be courageous, and play the man." He was led directly to the tribunal of the pro-consul, who exhorted him to respect his own age, to swear by the genius of the Emperor, and blaspheme Christ. Polycarp replied, "I have served Him these fourscore and six years, and He never did me any harm, but much good. How can I then blaspheme my King and my Saviour? If you require of me to swear by the genius of Cæsar, as you call it, hear my free confession; I am a Christian: but if you desire to learn the Christian religion, appoint a time, and hear me."

In the sixth year of Marcus Aurelius's rule, a series of games in Smyrna kept the city buzzing with excitement for several days, and the Christians were forced to fight wild animals for the entertainment of the crowd. Polycarp was advised to escape the chaos, so he hid himself for a while not far from the city. However, a boy betrayed his hiding place after being threatened with torture unless he revealed it. Herod, the magistrate responsible for maintaining order, sent horsemen at night to surround his hideout. Polycarp was upstairs in bed but chose not to flee, saying, "God's will be done." Instead, he went down, welcomed them at the door, offered them a nice dinner, and asked for a bit of time to pray before going with them. After getting permission, he began his prayer standing and continued for two hours, passionately praying for his flock and the whole Church, with such intensity that several of those sent to capture him regretted their task. They placed him on a donkey and were taking him back to the city when they encountered Herod and his father, Nicetes, on the way. They invited him into their chariot and tried to convince him to compromise, saying, "What harm is there in sacrificing to avoid death?" At first, the bishop remained silent, following the example of our Savior, but when pressed, he firmly answered, "I will never do what you ask." At these words, they violently pushed him out of the chariot, causing him to bruise his leg in the fall. The holy man continued on happily to the location where the people had gathered. When he arrived, many heard a voice from heaven saying, "Polycarp, be courageous, and stand firm." He was taken directly to the pro-consul's tribunal, who urged him to consider his age, to swear by the genius of the Emperor, and to blaspheme Christ. Polycarp responded, "I have served Him for eighty-six years, and He has never done me any harm but has done me much good. How can I then blaspheme my King and my Savior? If you want me to swear by the genius of Caesar, as you call it, let me confess freely: I am a Christian. But if you want to learn about the Christian faith, set a time and listen to me."

The pro-consul then, assuming a tone of severity, said, "I have wild beasts." "Call for them," replied the Saint: "for we are unalterably resolved not to change from good to evil. It is only good to pass from evil to good." The pro-consul said, "If you despise the beasts, I will cause you to be burnt to ashes." Polycarp answered, "You threaten me with a fire which burns for a short time, and then goes out; but are, yourself, ignorant of the judgment to come, and of the fire prepared for the wicked. Why do you delay? Bring against me what you please." Whilst he said this his countenance shone with a certain heavenly grace, insomuch that the pro-consul was struck with admiration. However, he ordered a crier to make public proclamation three times, "Polycarp has confessed himself a Christian." At this proclamation the whole multitude of Jews and Gentiles gave a great shout. They unanimously demanded that he should be burnt alive. Their request was no sooner granted than every one ran, with all speed, to fetch wood from the baths and shops. The Jews were particularly active and busy on this occasion. The pile being prepared, Polycarp put off his garments, untied his girdle, and began to take off his shoes. The wood and [Pg 382] other combustibles were heaped around him. The executioners would have attached him to the stake; but he said to them, "Suffer me to be as I am. He who gives me grace to endure this fire, will enable me to stand still without that precaution." They, therefore, contented themselves with tying his hands behind his back, and in this posture, looking up towards heaven, he prayed as follows: "O Almighty Lord God, Father of Thy beloved and blessed Son Jesus Christ, by whom we have received the knowledge of Thee, God of angels, powers, and every creature, and of all the race of the just that live in Thy presence! I bless Thee for having been pleased in Thy goodness to bring me to this hour, that I may receive a portion in the number of Thy martyrs, and partake of the chalice of Thy Christ, for the resurrection to eternal life, in the incorruptibleness of the Holy Spirit. Grant me to be received this day as a pleasing sacrifice, such an one as thou Thyself hast prepared, that so Thou mayest accomplish what Thou, O true and faithful God! hast foreshown. Wherefore, for all things I praise, bless, and glorify Thee, through the eternal high priest Jesus Christ, Thy beloved Son, with whom, to Thee, and the Holy Ghost, be glory now and for ever. Amen." He had scarce said Amen, when fire was set to the pile, and increased to a mighty flame. "But behold a wonder seen by us," say the authors of these Acts. "The flames forming themselves into an arch, like the sails of a ship swelled with the wind, gently encircled the body of the martyr; which stood in the middle, like purified gold or silver, appearing bright through the flames; and his body sending forth such a fragrance, that we seemed to smell precious spices." The heathen were exasperated to see that his body could not be consumed, and ordered a spearman to pierce him through, which he did, and such a quantity of blood issued out of his left side as to quench the fire. The malice [Pg 383] of the devil ended not here: he endeavoured to obstruct the relics of the martyr being carried off by the Christians; for many desired to do it, to show their respect to his body. Therefore, by the suggestion of Satan, Nicetes advised the pro-consul not to bestow it on the Christians, lest, said he, abandoning the crucified man, they should adore Polycarp: the Jews suggested this, "Not knowing," say the authors of these Acts, "that we can never forsake Christ, nor adore any other, though we love the martyrs, as his disciples and imitators, for the great love they bore their King and Master." The centurion then cast the body into the midst of the fire, and burnt it to ashes. "We afterwards took up the bones," say the writers of the Acts, "more precious than the richest jewels or gold, and deposited them decently in a place at which, may God grant us to assemble with joy, to celebrate the birthday of the martyr."

The proconsul, adopting a serious tone, said, "I have wild beasts." "Bring them out," replied the Saint: "for we are firmly resolved not to turn from good to evil. It is only good to move from evil to good." The proconsul said, "If you scorn the beasts, I will burn you to ashes." Polycarp answered, "You threaten me with a fire that lasts only a little while and then goes out; yet you are unaware of the judgment to come and the fire prepared for the wicked. Why are you waiting? Bring whatever you want against me." While he spoke, his face shone with a certain heavenly grace, causing the proconsul to be struck with admiration. However, he ordered a crier to publicly announce three times, "Polycarp has confessed he is a Christian." At this proclamation, the entire crowd of Jews and Gentiles let out a loud cheer. They all demanded that he should be burned alive. As soon as their request was granted, everyone rushed to gather wood from the baths and shops. The Jews were especially active in this effort. Once the pyre was ready, Polycarp removed his clothes, loosened his belt, and began to take off his shoes. The wood and other flammable materials were piled around him. The executioners tried to tie him to the stake, but he said to them, "Let me stand as I am. The one who gives me the strength to endure this fire will allow me to remain still without that precaution." So, they settled for tying his hands behind his back, and in this position, looking up toward heaven, he prayed: "O Almighty Lord God, Father of your beloved and blessed Son Jesus Christ, through whom we have come to know you, God of angels, powers, and every creature, and of all the just who live in your presence! I praise you for having been pleased, in your goodness, to bring me to this hour, so that I may share in the number of your martyrs and partake of the cup of your Christ, for the resurrection to eternal life, in the incorruptibility of the Holy Spirit. Allow me to be accepted today as a pleasing sacrifice, such as you have prepared, so that you may fulfill what you, O true and faithful God, have foretold. Therefore, for all things, I praise, bless, and glorify you, through the eternal high priest Jesus Christ, your beloved Son, with whom, to you, and the Holy Spirit, be glory now and forever. Amen." He had barely said Amen when the fire was set to the pile, and it grew into a mighty flame. "But behold a wonder seen by us," say the authors of these Acts. "The flames formed an arch, like the sails of a ship filled with wind, gently encircling the body of the martyr, which stood in the middle, like purified gold or silver, appearing bright through the flames; and his body giving off such a fragrance that we seemed to smell precious spices." The pagans were enraged to see that his body could not be consumed, and they ordered a spearman to pierce him, which he did, and such a quantity of blood flowed from his left side that it quenched the fire. The devil's malice didn't stop there: he tried to prevent the martyr's remains from being taken by the Christians; many wanted to do so to show their respect for his body. Hence, on Satan's suggestion, Nicetes advised the proconsul not to give it to the Christians, lest, he said, abandoning the crucified man, they might worship Polycarp: the Jews suggested this, "Not knowing," say the authors of these Acts, "that we can never forsake Christ, nor worship any other, even though we love the martyrs as his disciples and imitators, for the great love they had for their King and Master." The centurion then threw the body into the fire and burned it to ashes. "Later, we took up the bones," say the writers of the Acts, "more precious than the richest jewels or gold, and buried them respectfully in a place where, may God allow us to gather with joy to celebrate the martyr's birthday."

His tomb is still shown near Smyrna.

His tomb is still displayed near Smyrna.

S. SIMEON THE OLD, AB.

(end of 4th cent.)

(end of 4th century)

[Greek Menæa. Authority, Theodoret, in his Philotheus, c. 6.]

[Greek Menæa. Authority, Theodoret, in his Philotheus, c. 6.]

Simeon the Old dwelt a life of solitude in a cave, feeding on vegetables. One day some travellers arrived at his cell, having lost their way and asked the old hermit to direct them to a certain fort for which they were bound. The hermit called two lions from the desert, and gave them to [Pg 384] the travellers as guides. This incident was related to Theodoret by one who was present on the occasion. When a large number of disciples assembled under his direction, the aged Simeon went away to mount Amanus, near Antioch, and there built a monastery. But afterwards, being desirous of ending his days on Sinai, he went into the desert of that mountain. And there he saw one day two hands raised from the mouth of a cave. Thinking it might be a snare of the devil, he approached with caution. At the sound of his footsteps the supplicating hands were drawn in, and he saw no man; then he cried to the dweller of the cave to come forth, and there issued out of it an old hermit dressed in palm leaves, who said that he and a brother hermit had come to establish themselves on Sinai, and they had promised each other never to separate. Now before they reached the holy mount the brother hermit died; so the survivor buried his corpse, and, faithful to his promise, tarried by his grave till the Lord should call him; and every day a lion brought him a bunch of dates. Now when Simeon had partaken of his dates, and they had sung together the matin office, he went on, and reaching Sinai with his monks, established on the mountain two monasteries, one at the summit, and the other at the foot.

Simeon the Old lived a life of solitude in a cave, surviving on vegetables. One day, some travelers came to his cell, having lost their way, and asked the old hermit for directions to a fort they were trying to reach. The hermit summoned two lions from the desert and sent them to the travelers as guides. This story was shared with Theodoret by someone who witnessed the event. When a large group of followers gathered around him, the aged Simeon went to mount Amanus, near Antioch, where he built a monastery. However, wanting to spend his final days on Sinai, he went into the desert of that mountain. One day, he saw two hands raised from the mouth of a cave. Suspecting it might be a trap of the devil, he approached cautiously. As he walked, the hands were withdrawn, and he saw no one; then he called out to the occupant of the cave to come forward, and an old hermit dressed in palm leaves emerged. He explained that he and another hermit had come to settle on Sinai and had promised never to separate. Sadly, before they reached the holy mountain, the brother hermit passed away. The survivor buried him and, faithful to his vow, stayed by his grave until the Lord called him. Each day, a lion brought him a bunch of dates. After sharing the dates and singing the morning prayers together, Simeon moved on, and upon reaching Sinai with his monks, he established two monasteries on the mountain, one at the summit and the other at the base.

S. PAULA, W., AT BETHLEHEM.

(a.d. 404.)

(A.D. 404.)

[Roman Martyrology. S. Paula died on Jan. 26th, after sunset, consequently some commemorate her on Jan. 27th. Authority: her life written by S. Jerome, her director, in a letter to her daughter Eustochium.]

[Roman Martyrology. St. Paula died on January 26th, after sunset, so some people celebrate her on January 27th. Source: her life was documented by St. Jerome, her spiritual advisor, in a letter to her daughter Eustochium.]

SS. PAULA, PRISCA, PAUL

The blessed Paula was born at Rome in the year 347. Her father was Rogatus, of noble Grecian origin. Her mother, Blesilla, reckoned the Gracchi, the Scipios and Paulus Æmilius among her ancestors. This illustrious birth was made more honourable by her union with Toxotius, of the Julian race, and very wealthy. Her virtues endeared her to the people of Rome, and her modesty, gravity, and prudence caused her to be generally respected. Her husband died when she was aged twenty-three, and grief for his loss nearly brought her to the grave as well. Toxotius left behind him four daughters, Blesilla, Paulina, Eustochium, Julia, and Ruffina; the youngest child was a boy, and he bore the name of his father.

The blessed Paula was born in Rome in the year 347. Her father was Rogatus, from a noble Greek family. Her mother, Blesilla, counted the Gracchi, the Scipios, and Paulus Æmilius among her ancestors. This distinguished lineage was further enhanced by her marriage to Toxotius, who was of the Julian lineage and quite wealthy. Her virtues made her beloved by the people of Rome, and her modesty, seriousness, and wisdom earned her widespread respect. Her husband died when she was just twenty-three, and her grief over his loss nearly led her to the grave as well. Toxotius left behind four daughters: Blesilla, Paulina, Eustochium, Julia, and Ruffina; the youngest was a son, who was named after his father.

The heart-broken widow at length found repose in submission to the will of God. Filled with a sense of the vanity of all earthly things, she strove to detach her affections daily from all save God. After the death of her husband she would not sit down to table with any man, not even with the bishops, whose advice she sought, and who were most hospitably entertained in her house. By degrees she accustomed herself to plain food, and inexpensive clothing. Instead of a downy couch, she made her bed on the hard floor. "Hitherto all my care has been how I might please my husband," said she, "now I will care for naught save how I may best serve Jesus Christ."

The heartbroken widow eventually found peace in accepting God's will. Realizing the emptiness of all earthly things, she worked to distance her feelings from everything except God. After her husband's death, she refused to sit at the table with any man, not even the bishops whose advice she sought and who were warmly welcomed in her home. Gradually, she got used to simple food and inexpensive clothing. Instead of a soft bed, she made her resting place on the hard floor. "Until now, my only concern has been how to please my husband," she said, "now I will only care about how I can best serve Jesus Christ."

She was now called on to bewail the death of her eldest daughter Blesilla, who died shortly after her husband, to whom she had been married only for a short time. S. Jerome wrote on this occasion to S. Paula from Bethlehem. After having tenderly recalled the pale and gentle face, bowed with exhaustion after fever on the slender neck, the angelic form, of the departed daughter, S. Jerome adds; "But what am I doing? I would dry the tears of a mother and mingle mine with hers. I do not conceal my emotion. I write weeping. But Jesus wept over Lazarus, because He loved him. It is difficult to console another when one is also overwhelmed with grief, and when the broken heart can find [Pg 386] no words. O Paula, I take Jesus Christ to witness, whose Majesty Blesilla now sees; I take the holy angels to witness, whose companion she now is; that I suffer the same anguish of heart as you, for I, having been her spiritual father, had learned to love her dearly."

She was now called upon to mourn the death of her eldest daughter Blesilla, who passed away shortly after her husband, with whom she had been married for only a short time. St. Jerome wrote to St. Paula from Bethlehem on this occasion. After tenderly recalling the pale and gentle face, fatigued from fever on her slender neck, and the angelic figure of the departed daughter, St. Jerome adds; "But what am I doing? I should dry a mother’s tears and mix mine with hers. I don’t hide my emotions. I write while weeping. But Jesus wept over Lazarus because He loved him. It's tough to comfort someone else when you’re also overwhelmed with grief, and when the broken heart can find no words. Oh Paula, I swear by Jesus Christ, whose glory Blesilla now sees; I swear by the holy angels, whose companion she now is; that I feel the same deep sorrow as you do, for I, being her spiritual father, had come to love her dearly."

Paula saw also her second daughter Paulina die, who had been married to Tammachius, a man of noble consular birth, as illustrious for his piety as for his descent, "the first of monks in the first of cities," S. Jerome called him in after years, when he had embraced the monastic life in Rome. She also survived her fourth daughter Ruffina, married to the patrician Aletheus, but this affliction fell upon her when she was no longer in Rome.

Paula also witnessed the death of her second daughter Paulina, who had been married to Tammachius, a man of noble consular lineage, renowned for both his piety and his ancestry. S. Jerome later referred to him as "the first of monks in the first of cities" after he took up monastic life in Rome. She also outlived her fourth daughter Ruffina, who was married to the patrician Aletheus, but this tragedy struck her when she was no longer in Rome.

Her daughters had grown up, and her son Toxotius, having been secured a careful bringing up, by his sister Ruffina, S. Paula felt that she might now follow at liberty the bent of her desire. The stirring life in Rome gave her no rest. Her noble birth and great wealth made her in great request, and the time, which she desired to devote to God alone, was broken up by the petty business and formalities of social life, which could not be dispensed with in the great city. She therefore resolved to abandon Rome, her palace, her crowds of servants, her numerous acquaintances, many friends, and dear children.

Her daughters had grown up, and her son Toxotius, who had been carefully raised by his sister Ruffina, made S. Paula feel free to pursue her own desires. The bustling life in Rome left her restless. Her noble status and considerable wealth made her highly sought after, yet the time she wanted to dedicate solely to God was consumed by the trivialities and formalities of social life that were unavoidable in the big city. So, she decided to leave Rome, her palace, her throngs of servants, her many acquaintances, numerous friends, and beloved children.

She desired to visit the holy scenes consecrated by Christ, and then to settle quietly down near her old confessor and director Jerome, then inhabiting a cell at Bethlehem. It was no light matter parting with her relations and children, but she had this consolation, Eustochium, her unmarried daughter, accompanied her, one in heart with her mother, desirous of consecrating her virginity, as Paula desired to dedicate her widowhood, to Jesus Christ.

She wanted to visit the sacred places blessed by Christ, and then settle down peacefully near her old confessor and director Jerome, who was living in a cell at Bethlehem. It wasn't easy to say goodbye to her relatives and children, but she found some comfort in the fact that Eustochium, her unmarried daughter, was with her. They shared the same heart, both eager to dedicate their lives—Eustochium her virginity, as Paula intended to dedicate her widowhood—to Jesus Christ.

When they left Rome, the kinsmen accompanied them to the port. It was a heart-breaking scene. Paula took her [Pg 387] place on the deck of the vessel that was to bear her away for ever. The anchor was drawn up, the moorings cast loose, and the rowers bowed to their task. Then the grief of Toxotius became incontrollable; he stretched forth his arms to her, sobbing, "Mother, mother! do not leave me." The grief of the others was silent, manifesting itself in copious tears. But Paula, raising her dry eyes to heaven, turned her face from the shore, and conquered by a superhuman effort the agony caused by the rending of so many dear ties. On reaching Jerusalem she found that a palace had been furnished for her reception by the governor, with every comfort and even luxury. She, however, chose the meanest chamber therein, in which to lodge, and spent her time in visiting the holy sites. She prayed long and earnestly before the true Cross, kissed the stones on which the body of Jesus had lain, and watered with her tears the dust of the Dolorous Way along which He had borne His Cross.

When they left Rome, the relatives went with them to the port. It was a heart-wrenching scene. Paula took her place on the deck of the ship that was going to take her away forever. The anchor was pulled up, the ropes were cast loose, and the rowers began their work. Then Toxotius's grief became overwhelming; he stretched out his arms to her, crying, "Mother, mother! Please don't leave me." The others expressed their sorrow silently, shedding countless tears. But Paula, lifting her tearless eyes to the sky, turned her face away from the shore and, through an incredible effort, overcame the pain caused by the severing of so many cherished connections. Upon arriving in Jerusalem, she found that the governor had prepared a palace for her stay, equipped with all comforts and even luxuries. However, she chose the simplest room in the palace to stay in and spent her time visiting the holy places. She prayed long and earnestly before the true Cross, kissed the stones where Jesus's body had rested, and soaked the dust along the Dolorous Way, where He had carried His Cross, with her tears.

She then journeyed to Bethlehem, and adored Christ in the cave of the Nativity. Overwhelmed with awe she exclaimed, "Oh, how dare I, a poor sinner, kiss the crib where the Lord wailed as a little babe? How dare I offer my prayer, where the Virgin brought the Word into the world in the substance of our flesh! Let the home of my Redeemer be henceforth my resting place, here will I dwell where He walked the earth as man."

She then traveled to Bethlehem and worshiped Christ in the nativity cave. Overcome with awe, she exclaimed, "Oh, how can I, a poor sinner, kiss the crib where the Lord cried as a baby? How can I offer my prayer where the Virgin brought the Word into the world in our flesh? Let my Redeemer's home be my resting place from now on; here, I will stay where He walked the earth as a man."

Having settled at Bethlehem into a poor little house, she engaged workpeople to erect on the road to Jerusalem a spacious hospital for pilgrims and sick persons, and also a monastery for S. Jerome and his monks. She then erected three convents for women, with one church in which all the inmates of the three houses assembled for the divine office. There they met to sing prime, tierce, sext, nones, vespers, compline, and the midnight lauds; thus they daily sang the whole psalter, which every sister was required to learn by [Pg 388] heart. On Sundays they went to the neighbouring church where the Divine Sacrifice was offered, and where they communicated.

After settling in a humble little house in Bethlehem, she hired workers to build a spacious hospital for pilgrims and the sick along the road to Jerusalem, as well as a monastery for St. Jerome and his monks. She then established three convents for women, with one church where all the residents of the three houses gathered for worship. There, they met to sing the daily prayers: prime, tierce, sext, nones, vespers, compline, and the midnight lauds; this way, they sang the entire psalter every day, which each sister was required to memorize by [Pg 388] heart. On Sundays, they went to the nearby church where the Divine Sacrifice was celebrated and where they received communion.

All the sisters worked with their hands, and made clothes for themselves and for the poor. No man was ever suffered to set foot within their doors. Paula governed them with great charity and discretion, animating them by her own example. Neither she nor her daughter, Eustochium, refused to perform the most menial offices in the sisterhood. If any of the sisters proved talkative she was separated from the rest, and made to walk last and to eat alone.

All the sisters worked with their hands and made clothes for themselves and for those in need. No man was ever allowed to enter their home. Paula led them with great kindness and wisdom, inspiring them through her own actions. Neither she nor her daughter, Eustochium, hesitated to do the most basic tasks in the community. If any of the sisters were too chatty, they were separated from the others and made to walk at the back and eat alone.

She was gladdened to hear in her retreat of the marriage of her son Toxotius to a pious maiden, named Leta, to whom S. Jerome addressed the first treatise on the education of women which the Christian spirit had inspired, and which prepared for cloistral life the young Paula, her daughter, devoted to the Lord from the cradle, and a nun, like her grandmother and her aunt. He offered with the candour of genius, to educate the child himself, and "old as I am," said he, "I shall accustom myself to infantine lispings, more honoured in this than was Aristotle, for I shall instruct not a king of Macedon, destined to perish by poison of Babylon, but a servant and spouse of Christ, to be presented to Him in the heavens."

She was happy to hear during her retreat about the marriage of her son Toxotius to a devout young woman named Leta, to whom S. Jerome wrote the first treatise on the education of women inspired by the Christian spirit. This work prepared her daughter Paula for a cloistered life, as she had been dedicated to the Lord from birth and was a nun like her grandmother and aunt. He offered with the sincerity of a genius to educate the child himself, saying, "Even though I'm old, I will get used to the baby talk, and I will be more honored in this than Aristotle, because I'm not teaching a king of Macedon who will meet his end by Babylonian poison, but a servant and bride of Christ, destined to be presented to Him in heaven."

But Toxotius and his wife seem to have thought that an aged monk, immersed in study, would not prove so suitable for the nurture of the little maiden as a woman, and they therefore sent her to S. Paula, her grandmother. S. Paula lived to the age of fifty-six years and eight months, of which she had spent in her widowhood five at Rome, and almost twenty at Bethlehem. In her last illness she repeated almost incessantly the verses of the psalms, which express the ardour of the soul to see Jerusalem which is above, and there to be united to her God. When she was no longer able to speak, [Pg 389] she formed the sign of the Cross on her lips, and expired in perfect peace, on Jan. 26th, a.d. 404. Her body, borne by bishops, attended by acolytes holding lighted tapers, was buried on the 28th of the same month, in the church of the Holy Manger at Bethlehem.

But Toxotius and his wife thought that an elderly monk, deeply devoted to his studies, wouldn’t be the best choice for caring for their little girl, so they sent her to her grandmother, S. Paula. S. Paula lived to be fifty-six years and eight months old, spending five years of her widowhood in Rome and nearly twenty in Bethlehem. During her final illness, she continually recited verses from the psalms that express the soul’s longing to see the heavenly Jerusalem and be united with God. When she could no longer speak, she made the sign of the Cross on her lips and passed away in total peace on January 26th, a.d. 404. Her body was carried by bishops, followed by acolytes holding lit candles, and she was buried on the 28th of the same month in the church of the Holy Manger at Bethlehem.

S. XENOPHON, HIS WIFE, AND SONS.

(5th cent.)

(5th cent.)

[Commemorated by the Greeks on this day, and introduced into the Roman Martyrology by Clement the VIII. Authority: a life in Simeon Metaphrastes of uncertain date.]

[Remembered by the Greeks today and added to the Roman Martyrology by Clement VIII. Source: a biography by Simeon Metaphrastes of an unknown date.]

In the Court of Constantine the Great at Byzantium was a senator named Xenophon, a devout Christian, whose wife's name was Mary. They had two sons whom they loved as the apples of their eyes, John and Arcadius. These sons were destined for the law, and after they had finished their education in Greek at home, Xenophon sent them in a ship destined for Berytus, to be there instructed in law, that being then a great legal school. At the time of their departure, Xenophon was sick nigh unto death, and he bade them farewell from his bed. The young men had not been many days at sea before a violent tempest burst upon them, and the vessel was speedily reduced to a wreck. The brothers cast their arms round each other's necks and kissing, bade one another farewell. Then the wreck broke up on a reef, and in the havoc of the waves rending the fragile ship, they lost sight of one another. However, it fell out that both reached the land on broken pieces of the vessel, but they were cast up so far apart that each supposed that he alone was saved. John came ashore not far from a monastery, into which he was hospitably received, and where he was well cared for till he had recovered the exhaustion consequent on battling with [Pg 390] the waves for life. In the monastery John found a calm and cheerfulness such as he had not experienced in the world; it seemed to him a peaceful refuge for the storm-tossed soul as well as for the shipwrecked body, and he resolved to remain there as a monk.

In the court of Constantine the Great in Byzantium, there was a senator named Xenophon, a devoted Christian, whose wife was named Mary. They had two sons they cherished dearly, John and Arcadius. These sons were set on a career in law, and after completing their education in Greek at home, Xenophon sent them on a ship headed for Berytus, which was known as a prominent legal school at the time. When they left, Xenophon was gravely ill and said goodbye to them from his bed. The young men had not been at sea long before a fierce storm hit, quickly wrecking the ship. The brothers embraced each other, kissed, and said their farewells. Then the ship broke apart on a reef, and in the chaos of the waves tearing the fragile vessel apart, they lost sight of one another. However, both made it to shore on pieces of the wreckage, but they washed up so far apart that each thought he was the only survivor. John came ashore near a monastery, where he was warmly welcomed and taken care of until he had recovered from the exhaustion of fighting for his life against the waves. In the monastery, John found a peace and happiness he hadn’t known in the outside world; it felt like a sanctuary for a troubled soul as well as for a shipwrecked body, and he decided to stay there as a monk.

Arcadius had also come ashore; he made his way to Jerusalem, in great trouble of mind, having lost in the vessel all the money his father had given him wherewith to prosecute his studies, and above all, his brother. Now alone and poor, he knew not whither to go, and what to do. Then one day he came to a monastery governed by an aged abbot, who comforted him, and urged him to despise the world, and seek rest in God. Arcadius remembered how, as a little boy, he had heard his father descant on the peace of the cloister and the happiness of monastic life. He therefore gladly assumed the habit, and bent his head for the tonsure.

Arcadius had also arrived on land; he made his way to Jerusalem, deeply troubled, having lost all the money his father had given him for his studies, and especially, his brother. Now alone and broke, he didn't know where to go or what to do. Then one day, he came across a monastery run by an elderly abbot, who comforted him and encouraged him to turn away from the world and find peace in God. Arcadius remembered how, as a young boy, he had heard his father talk about the tranquility of the monastery and the joy of monastic life. So, he happily took on the monastic habit and submitted to the tonsure.

Now at Byzantium, Xenophon had recovered of his malady, and he and his wife often communed together of their absent sons. Not hearing any news of them, he sent a servant to Berytus to make enquiries. The servant returned one day when Xenophon was at court, so that the mother, Mary, was the first to hear of the loss of the vessel. The servant said that it was feared at Berytus that all on board had perished. "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord," said she.

Now in Byzantium, Xenophon had recovered from his illness, and he and his wife often talked about their missing sons. Since they hadn't heard any news, he sent a servant to Berytus to inquire. The servant returned one day while Xenophon was at court, so Mary, the mother, was the first to learn about the ship's loss. The servant said that it was feared in Berytus that everyone on board had died. "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away, blessed be the name of the Lord," she said.

Evening came, and with it returned her husband from the court, with a crowd of servants and torch-bearers. He found supper spread, and his wife awaiting him. He sat down, but noticing that she was grieved in spirit, and that her eyes were full of tears, he asked the reason. She changed the subject, and after a while, so as gently to break the news to him, she said that the servant was on his way home. Xenophon started from the table in agitation, and asked where he was. "How do you know that he is here? he may have [Pg 391] been delayed through sickness on the way," said Mary, restraining her grief with an effort. "But the letters, where are the letters?" asked her husband, white with emotion. "Surely you can delay reading them till tomorrow," said the wife; "eat your supper now, at least, with a glad mind." Then her tears streamed down her cheeks. Xenophon looked steadily at her, and asked in a low voice, "Is it well with the boys?" Then she told him all. And Xenophon said, "The Lord's name be praised who has given me such a prudent and self-constrained wife," and instead of giving way, went to Mary and kissed her and comforted her, for now that the need for control was removed, all her mother's heart gave way in a passion of tears and sobs.

Evening came, and with it her husband returned from the court, accompanied by a group of servants and torch-bearers. He found dinner ready and his wife waiting for him. He sat down but noticed that she looked upset, her eyes full of tears, and asked what was wrong. She changed the subject, and after a while, trying to break the news gently, she mentioned that the servant was on his way home. Xenophon jumped up from the table in distress and asked where he was. "How do you know he’s here? He could have been delayed by illness on the way," said Mary, struggling to hold back her grief. "But the letters, where are the letters?" her husband asked, pale with emotion. "Surely you can wait to read them until tomorrow," she replied; "please eat your dinner now, at least with a happy heart." Then tears streamed down her cheeks. Xenophon looked intently at her and asked softly, "Are the boys alright?" Then she told him everything. And Xenophon said, "Praise the Lord who has given me such a wise and self-controlled wife," and instead of breaking down, he went to Mary, kissed her, and comforted her, as now that the need for composure was gone, all her mother's emotions overflowed in a flood of tears and sobs.

Xenophon and his wife had no rest. Were their children dead or alive? That they must know; so they resolved to go together to Palestine to find them alive or dead. On arriving at Jerusalem they visited the holy places, and prayed everywhere that if it were the Lord's will, they might see again once more the faces of their sons. One day in the street they saw a servant they had given to the youths now wearing the monastic habit; Xenophon fell down reverently before him, and when the man, full of shame, implored him not to do so, "It is not you I reverence, but your habit," said the nobleman. Then the man told him how the ship had been wrecked, and how nearly all had perished, but he, escaping to land, had taken the monastic profession upon him.

Xenophon and his wife were restless. Were their children dead or alive? They needed to know, so they decided to go to Palestine together to find out, whether they were alive or dead. When they got to Jerusalem, they visited the holy sites and prayed everywhere that if it was the Lord's will, they might see their sons' faces once more. One day in the street, they spotted a servant they had given to the boys, now dressed in monastic robes. Xenophon bowed down before him in respect, and when the man, feeling ashamed, begged him not to do that, the nobleman replied, "I’m not honoring you, but your robes." Then the man explained that the ship had been wrecked, and almost everyone had perished, but he had managed to escape to shore and had taken monastic vows.

Three years had passed since John and Arcadius had sailed from Byzantium, and the parents began to despair of hearing any tidings of them, when one day they visited the monastery of the abbot who had received Arcadius. The old man having heard their story, knew at once that one of their sons was with him, and from what he had learned, he conjectured that the other was alive in another house. He therefore bade them be of good cheer, assuring them that [Pg 392] their sons lived, and he bade them meet him on a certain day upon Mount Calvary, by which time he would be supplied with further information.

Three years had gone by since John and Arcadius had sailed from Byzantium, and their parents were starting to lose hope of hearing any news about them. Then one day, they visited the monastery of the abbot who had taken Arcadius in. The old man, after hearing their story, immediately realized that one of their sons was with him, and from what he had learned, he suspected that the other was alive in another place. He encouraged them to remain positive, assuring them that their sons were alive, and he asked them to meet him on a specific day at Mount Calvary, by which time he would have more information.

Now it fell out that John was then in Jerusalem visiting the scenes of the Passion. The aged abbot sent for him and spake with him, and soon learned that his suspicions were correct, and that he was the brother of his monk. Arcadius at this moment arrived. The abbot said to John, "Brother, what is thy history, I pray thee relate it to me." So John began, "I am the son of wealthy parents in Byzantium, who sent me with my brother to Berytus, to study law; I loved my brother as my own soul. He was dearer to me than my life. On our voyage a storm fell on us, and the vessel was wrecked, then my brother Arcadius and I"—hereat Arcadius trembled, and extended his hands, and fell at the feet of the abbot, and stammered forth, "It is my brother, my brother!" And when John heard his voice, he knew him; but they knew each other not before, for they were both cowled, and greatly altered through fasting. And the brothers lifted up their voices and wept, and embraced each other with exceeding joy. Then the abbot said, "My sons, I bid you be silent and restrain yourselves. Your parents come this way, and too great joy falling too suddenly upon them may be more than they can bear, therefore I say unto you, refrain yourselves awhile." Hardly had he done speaking, and the two monks had fallen behind, before Xenophon came up Calvary, leading Mary.

Now it happened that John was in Jerusalem visiting the locations of the Passion. The elderly abbot called for him and spoke with him, quickly realizing that his suspicions were correct, and that John was the brother of his monk. At that moment, Arcadius arrived. The abbot said to John, "Brother, please tell me your story." So John began, "I am the son of wealthy parents in Byzantium, who sent my brother and me to Berytus to study law; I loved my brother as much as my own soul. He was dearer to me than my life. During our journey, a storm hit us, and the ship was wrecked, then my brother Arcadius and I..." At this point, Arcadius trembled, reached out his hands, fell to the abbot's feet, and stammered, "It is my brother, my brother!" When John heard his voice, he recognized him; however, they had not known each other before, as they were both wearing hoods and greatly changed from fasting. The brothers raised their voices and wept, embracing each other with immense joy. Then the abbot said, "My sons, I ask you to be quiet and hold yourselves back. Your parents are on their way here, and too much sudden joy may be overwhelming for them, so I suggest you hold back for a while." Hardly had he finished speaking when the two monks lagged behind, and Xenophon came up Calvary, leading Mary.

They were much aged by care. They came on with their wistful eyes fixed on the old abbot; and scarce regarded the monks who followed him, for their thoughts were on what he had to tell them. They cried, "Where are our dear sons, father?" Then the abbot said, "Rejoice, my children, rejoice and praise the Lord! your sons are found. [Pg 393] Now go and prepare a feast, and I will come shortly with my two disciples whom you see here, and when we have eaten, I will bring your sons to your arms."

They looked worn down by worry. They approached with hopeful eyes fixed on the old abbot, barely noticing the monks following him because they were focused on what he had to say. They asked, "Where are our dear sons, father?" The abbot replied, "Rejoice, my children, rejoice and praise the Lord! Your sons have been found. [Pg 393] Now go and prepare a feast, and I will come back soon with my two disciples you see here, and after we eat, I will bring your sons to you."

Now when Xenophon and Mary heard this, they were filled with joy, and they hasted and made ready a feast, and the abbot came, he and his two disciples, and they sat down and did eat. But all the while, as Arcadius and John heard the dear voices of father and mother, they shook with suppressed emotion, and turned their heads aside, and bowed them on their breasts, that the tears might trickle unseen. And as they ate, the conversation turned to the holy lives of the ascetics in the monasteries and lauras of Palestine. "Oh" said Xenophon; "how peaceful and glad of heart are all there; methinks there the word of the prophet is fulfilled, that the desert should bloom as a rose. Right glad should I be, were my dear boys to seek such blessed places of heavenly consolation, and lying down in those green pastures, there find rest." "But if they were to do this, thou wouldst be deprived of their society," said the abbot.

Now, when Xenophon and Mary heard this, they were filled with joy, so they hurried to prepare a feast. The abbot arrived with his two disciples, and they all sat down to eat. Meanwhile, as Arcadius and John listened to the familiar voices of their father and mother, they trembled with suppressed emotion, turning their heads away and bowing them down to let the tears fall unseen. As they ate, the conversation shifted to the holy lives of the ascetics in the monasteries and lauras of Palestine. "Oh," said Xenophon, "how peaceful and joyful everyone there is; it seems to me that the prophet's words are fulfilled—that the desert would bloom like a rose. I would be so happy if my dear boys sought out such blessed places of heavenly comfort and lay down in those green pastures to find rest." "But if they were to do this, you would lose their company," said the abbot.

"That matters not," said Xenophon; "If I could but see their faces again, and know that they had set their hearts on God alone, I should be comforted."

"That doesn't matter," said Xenophon; "If I could just see their faces again and know that they had devoted themselves to God alone, I would find comfort."

"And now," said the abbot; "let one of these monks speak, and say why he has entered on the monastic life." Thereupon Arcadius began with faltering voice: "I and my brother here present were born at Byzantium, of good Christian parents, and the name of the one was Xenophon, and the name of the other was Mary."

"And now," said the abbot, "let one of these monks speak and explain why he chose the monastic life." Then Arcadius started with a shaky voice: "My brother and I were born in Byzantium to good Christian parents. My brother's name is Xenophon, and my name is Mary."

Upon this the father and mother uttered a cry, and ran, and they were locked in the embrace of their children.

Upon this, the father and mother shouted and ran, and they were locked in the embrace of their children.

The abbot stood by and saw with joy their tears and kisses; and after a while he said, "Give glory to God!" so they raised their hands and eyes to heaven, and praised Him who had brought them together again.

The abbot stood by and watched with joy as they shed tears and exchanged kisses; after a while, he said, "Give glory to God!" So they raised their hands and eyes to heaven, praising Him for bringing them back together again.

But now that Xenophon and his wife had found their children, they felt that there was nothing more for which they cared on earth, and they also went into solitude, and served God in fasting and prayers night and day. Thus the whole family laboured with one heart for one end, the salvation of their souls and the glory of God; and though separated in body, they were united in heart, and now they dwell together in the Paradise of God.

But now that Xenophon and his wife had found their children, they felt that there was nothing else they cared about on earth, so they withdrew into solitude and dedicated themselves to God with fasting and prayers day and night. The whole family worked together with one heart for one purpose: the salvation of their souls and the glory of God; and even though they were physically separated, they were united in spirit, and now they live together in the Paradise of God.

S. BATHILD, Q.

(about a.d. 670.)

(circa A.D. 670.)

[Roman and other Martyrologies. In some, however, on Jan. 27th; at Paris on Jan. 30th. Authorities: her life by two contemporary writers. The first is in plain unpolished style. Its date appears from allusions such as this:—"The venerable Theudofred, who is now bishop, was then abbot." "The illustrious offspring of Bathild, now reigning, &c." The writer of the other expressly states that he had seen and known the virtues of her whom he describes.]

[Roman and other Martyrologies. In some versions, however, January 27th; in Paris on January 30th. Sources: her life written by two contemporary authors. The first is in a simple, unpolished style. Its date is shown by references like this:—"The venerable Theudofred, who is now a bishop, was then an abbot." "The notable descendant of Bathild, who is currently reigning," etc. The author of the other version explicitly states that he has witnessed and acknowledged the virtues of the person he describes.]

Archimbold, mayor of the palace, in the reign of Dagobert, King of France, bought a slender fair-haired English slave girl. The name of this girl was Bathild, given her probably because of her work, for the name signifies "the damsel of the lady's bower."[125] In service she grew up to woman's estate, and was very beautiful, but, withal, adorned with a meek and quiet spirit.

Archimbold, the mayor of the palace during the reign of Dagobert, King of France, bought a slim, fair-haired English slave girl. Her name was Bathild, likely given due to her role, since the name means "the maiden of the lady's bower." [125] While in service, she matured into a beautiful woman, but she was also blessed with a gentle and calm spirit.

She is thus described by one of her biographers:—"Her pious and admirable conversation attracted the admiration of the prince, and all his ministers. For she was of a benignant spirit and sober manners, prudent and shy, never scheming evil, never light in talk, or pert in speech; but in all her actions upright. She was of Saxon race, in shape graceful and pleasing, with a bright face and a staid gait, and as such, she found favour with the prince, so that he constituted her his cup-bearer, and as such, dealing honestly, she stood often by him ministering to him. But so far from being lifted up by her position, she showed the utmost humility to her fellow-servants, cheerfully obeying them, ministering reverently to her elders, often taking their shoes off for them, scraping and cleaning them, and bringing them their washing water, and mending their clothes also. All this she did without a murmur, with gentle and pious alacrity."

She is described by one of her biographers:—"Her pious and admirable conversations attracted the admiration of the prince and all his ministers. She had a kind spirit and a reserved demeanor, was sensible and modest, never scheming or gossiping, but always acted with integrity. Being of Saxon descent, she was graceful and pleasing in appearance, with a bright face and a composed walk, which endeared her to the prince. He appointed her as his cup-bearer, and in that role, she served him honestly. Despite her elevated position, she remained incredibly humble towards her fellow servants, cheerfully obeying them, serving her elders with respect, often helping them with their shoes, scrubbing and cleaning them, bringing them their washing water, and mending their clothes as well. She did all this without complaint, with gentle and pious eagerness."

Now it fell out that Archimbold lost his wife, and he looked about for one to fill her place. Then his glance rested on the fair-haired, blue-eyed Saxon maid, so kindly and so obliging. But when he announced that it was his intention to make her his wife, she was so alarmed that she hid herself among the under maids of the kitchen, dishevelled her light hair, begrimed her face, and worked in rags, so that the mayor supposed she had gone clean away, and after a while forgot her, and possibly thinking that such a match might have been after all a mistake, he married some one else. Then Bathild shook her tatters off, braided her flaxen hair, washed her sunny face, and shone forth in her accustomed place. But she had fled the mayor to catch the king. How Clovis became attached to her is not recorded; possibly he had long noticed the meek maiden at the mayor's elbow filling his wine goblet, and her disappearance had made him aware of the strength of his passion. Certain it is that shortly after, he asked her to be his lawful wife, and to sit at his side on the throne of France. There was no escaping a king; and at the age of nineteen, in 649, she was married accordingly to Clovis II. As queen she exercised a most salutary influence over the mind of her husband, and persuaded him to enact many salutary laws. She became a nursing [Pg 396] mother to the Church in France, and exerted herself to the utmost of her power to relieve the necessities of the poor, and ameliorate the condition of the serfs. She bore her husband three sons, who all successively wore the crown, Clothaire III., Childeric II., and Thierry I. After six years of married life, in 655, Bathild was left a widow, when her eldest son was only five years old. She then became regent of the kingdom. The gentle queen remembered her sorrows as a slave, and resolved to become the benefactress of the slave. Slavery was universally and firmly established in France. To root out such an institution at once was impossible; it could only be done with caution, lest it should alarm and rouse to opposition the great slave owners. She had sufficient penetration to discover the great cause of slavery in France. The old Gallic population was crushed beneath an enormous tax, to pay which mothers were obliged to sell their children, and which reduced into bondage those unfortunates who could not pay. This impost she abolished, and thereby cut off the source of slavery. She also forbade the retention or purchase of Christian slaves; but, to save vested interests, this law did not emancipate those already in bonds, but was of future operation only. She employed, moreover, all the money she could spare in the purchase out of bondage of such children as mothers had sold, out of dire necessity. She also sent ambassadors to all the European courts, to announce that the sale of French subjects was strictly forbidden, and that any slave who should set foot on French soil would be held from that moment to be free.

Archimbold lost his wife and started looking for someone to take her place. His eyes landed on a kind and helpful Saxon maid with fair hair and blue eyes. However, when he said he wanted to marry her, she was so frightened that she hid among the kitchen maids, messed up her light hair, dirtied her face, and worked in rags, making the mayor think she had completely disappeared. Eventually, he forgot about her, perhaps realizing that marrying her might have been a bad idea, and chose to marry someone else. Then Bathild shed her tattered clothes, braided her blonde hair, washed her face, and returned to her usual place. But she ran from the mayor to chase after the king. How Clovis fell in love with her isn’t clear; maybe he had noticed her quietly serving him wine and her absence made him realize how much he cared. Not long after, he asked her to be his wife and share the throne of France. There was no avoiding a king, and at just nineteen, in 649, she married Clovis II. As queen, she had a positive influence on her husband and encouraged him to create many beneficial laws. She became a nurturing mother to the Church in France and worked tirelessly to help the poor and improve the lives of serfs. She gave birth to three sons, all of whom would eventually wear the crown: Clothaire III, Childeric II, and Thierry I. After six years of marriage in 655, she became a widow when her oldest son was just five years old. She then took on the role of regent for the kingdom. The compassionate queen remembered her past as a slave and decided to become a supporter of those in bondage. Slavery was widespread in France, and it was not possible to eliminate it all at once without upsetting the powerful slave owners. She understood the main reason for slavery in France: the old Gallic population was crushed by a heavy tax that forced mothers to sell their children, leading to bondage for those who couldn’t pay. She abolished this tax, cutting off the root of slavery. She also banned the retention or purchase of Christian slaves, but this law didn’t free those already enslaved; it applied only to future cases. Additionally, she spent all the money she could spare to buy back children sold by desperate mothers. She sent ambassadors to all European courts to announce that selling French subjects was strictly prohibited and that any slave setting foot in France would be considered free from that moment on.

Bathild also founded a large number of religious houses. France was then overspread with forests; vast districts were pathless wildernesses, uninhabited by men. Old cities which had thriven under the Roman empire had fallen into ruins, and the wolf made his lair in the deserted chambers. How was all this desolation to be remedied, this waste land to be [Pg 397] reclaimed? A number of men must be gathered together at certain spots, and these must become civilizing centres, diffusing knowledge amongst the people, and cultivating the soil. Such were the monasteries. They were dotted about in the wildest parts of the vast woods, and little by little the trees were cleared away about them, and pastures and corn land usurped their place, and with the advance of agriculture, civilization spread. Bathild founded Corbie, Chelles, and Jumièges, besides others of less note. Towards the close of her days, when her son Clothaire was of an age to govern, she retired into the monastery of Chelles, where she finished her days in peace, dying at the age of fifty, in 680.

Bathild also established a lot of religious houses. At that time, France was covered with forests; vast areas were unexplored wilderness, uninhabited by people. Old cities that had flourished during the Roman Empire had crumbled into ruins, and wolves made their dens in the abandoned buildings. How could all this desolation be fixed, and the wasteland reclaimed? A group of people needed to gather at specific locations, becoming centers of civilization, spreading knowledge among the populace, and cultivating the land. These centers were the monasteries. They were scattered throughout the most remote parts of the great woods, and gradually the trees were cleared away around them, making way for pastures and farmland. As agriculture progressed, civilization began to spread. Bathild founded Corbie, Chelles, and Jumièges, along with others of lesser importance. Toward the end of her life, when her son Clothaire was old enough to govern, she retired to the monastery of Chelles, where she spent her final days in peace, passing away at the age of fifty in 680.

S. THEORITGITHA, V., AT BARKING.

(7th cent.)

(7th century)

[Anglican Martyrologies, but new Anglo-Roman Martyrology, Jan. 23. Authority: Bede's Eccl. Hist. lib. 4. c. 9.]

[Anglican Martyrologies, but new Anglo-Roman Martyrology, Jan. 23. Source: Bede's Eccl. Hist. book 4, chapter 9.]

Theoritgitha was a holy sister in the convent of Barking on the Thames, under the rule of the abbess Ethelberga. "She had always endeavoured to serve God in all humility and sincerity," says Bede, "and she took care to assist this same mother in keeping up regular discipline, by instructing and reproving the younger ones." She suffered nine years from a cruel distemper, which purified her soul. She saw in a vision a sign of the approaching death of S. Ethelberga.

Theoritgitha was a holy sister in the Barking convent along the Thames, under the leadership of Abbess Ethelberga. "She always tried to serve God with full humility and sincerity," says Bede, "and she made sure to help her mother maintain regular discipline by teaching and correcting the younger sisters." She endured nine years of a painful illness that purified her soul. She had a vision of a sign indicating the imminent death of St. Ethelberga.

FOOTNOTES:

[124] Rev. ii. 9.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ Rev. 2:9.

[125] Bath-hildr in Norse, meaning the maiden (hildr) of the Bath-stofa, the female apartment in a Norse, Saxon or Frankish house. She is sometimes called Bathildes, sometimes Baltidis.

[125] Bath-hildr in Norse means the maiden (hildr) of the Bath-stofa, the women's space in a Norse, Saxon, or Frankish home. She is sometimes referred to as Bathildes, and other times as Baltidis.


January 27.

S. Julian, B., of Mans, in France.
S. Julian, M., at Atina, in Italy, circ. a.d. 133.
S. Devota, M., in Corsica, circ. a.d. 303.
S. Peter the Egyptian, H., in Syria, circ. a.d. 400.
S. Chrysostom, B. D., at Constantinople, a.d. 407.
S. Domitian, Monk and Deacon in Judea, a.d. 473.
S. Marius, Ab. of La-val-benoit, near Sisteron, in France, 6th cent.
S. Lupus, B., of Chalons-sur-Saone, in France, beginning of 7th cent.
S. Vitalian, Pope of Rome, a.d. 671.
S. Emerius, Ab., and his mother, S. Candida, at Banoles, in Spain,
end of 8th cent.

S. Gamelbert, P., in Bavaria, end of 8th cent.
S. Sulpicius, B., of S. Ghislain in Belgium.
S. Theodoric II., B, of Orleans, a.d. 1022.
S. Gildwin, Can. of Dol, in Brittany, a.d. 1077.
S. John, B. of French Flanders, a.d. 1130.

St. Julian, Bishop of Mans, France.
St. Julian, Martyr, at Atina, Italy, around A.D. 133.
St. Devota, Martyr, in Corsica, around A.D. 303.
St. Peter the Egyptian, Hermit, in Syria, around A.D. 400.
St. Chrysostom, Bishop Doctor, in Constantinople, A.D. 407.
St. Domitian, Monk and Deacon in Judea, A.D. 473.
St. Marius, Abbot of La-val-benoit, near Sisteron, France, 6th century
St. Lupus, Bishop of Chalons-sur-Saone, France, early 7th century
St. Vitalian, Pope of Rome, A.D. 671.
St. Emerius, Abbot, and his mother, St. Candida, in Banoles, Spain,
late 8th century

St. Gamelbert, Priest, in Bavaria, late 8th century
St. Sulpicius, Bishop of St. Ghislain in Belgium.
St. Theodoric II., Bishop of Orleans, A.D. 1022.
St. Gildwin, Canon of Dol, Brittany, A.D. 1077.
St. John, Bishop of French Flanders, A.D. 1130.

S. JULIAN, B. OF MANS.

(DATE UNCERTAIN.)

(DATE UNKNOWN.)

[Called the Apostle of Celtic Gaul; he is commemorated on this day in the Roman Martyrology. In the Paris Martyrology on the 28th Jan., others on the 31st; that of Cologne on 26th Jan. In the Roman Martyrology he is said to have been sent by S. Peter into Gaul; but as Bollandus has shown, this is an error. His life was written by one Brother Lethald in, or about, a.d. 990.]

Known as the Apostle of Celtic Gaul, he is celebrated today in the Roman Martyrology. The Paris Martyrology commemorates him on January 28th, while other versions note him on the 31st, and the Cologne version on January 26th. The Roman Martyrology states that he was sent by St. Peter to Gaul; however, as Bollandus pointed out, this is incorrect. His life was written by a Brother Lethald around A.D. 990.

S.

aint Julian was the first to carry the light of the Gospel into that portion of France of which Le Mans is the capital. There he laboured with great success, destroyed the idol which the people worshipped, and persuaded great numbers to be baptized. His life, written several hundreds of years after his death, is of small authority, and contains little of interest. His relics were given to Paderborn in Westphalia, [Pg 399] in 1143.

Saint Julian was the first to bring the light of the Gospel to that area of France where Le Mans is the capital. There, he worked successfully, destroyed the idol that the people worshiped, and convinced many to be baptized. His life story, written several hundred years after his death, is not very reliable and contains little of interest. His relics were given to Paderborn in Westphalia, [Pg 399] in 1143.

S. DEVOTA, V. M., IN CORSICA.

(about a.d. 303.)

(about A.D. 303.)

[Deivota seems to have been the correct form of her name, but she is usually called Devota. Authority: her Acts.]

Deivota seems to be the correct spelling of her name, but she’s usually called Devota. Source: her Acts.

Deivota, or Devota was brought up from childhood in the Christian faith; when she was quite young, she was taken into the house of Eutyches, a senator, and probably a relation.

Deivota, or Devota, was raised from childhood in the Christian faith; when she was still quite young, she was taken into the home of Eutyches, a senator, and likely a relative.

Eutyches was not a Christian, but he was a kindly disposed man, who disliked persecution. On the publication of the edict of Diocletian against Christianity, he sacrificed along with the other senators; but the governor, being told that he sheltered in his house a little Christian maiden, ordered him to be poisoned, and Devota to be executed with great barbarity. Her feet were tied together, and she was dragged over rough ground till her limbs were dislocated, and she was cut and bruised over her entire person. When, after this, she was stretched on the rack, she besought Jesus Christ to release her. Her prayer was heard, and with a gentle sigh she expired. At the same moment a white dove was seen fluttering over her; it expanded its pure wings, and mounting, was lost in the deep blue of the sky. During the night a devout priest, named Benenatus, a deacon, Apollinarius, and a believing boatman, Gratian by name, removed her body, and placing it amidst spices in the little skiff, rowed out to sea. Then a white dove appeared, skimming over the water, then waiting, and hovering before them, then darting forward; and they, remembering the apparition at her death, followed the guidance of the dove, and reached Monaco, where they [Pg 400] laid her.

Eutyches was not a Christian, but he was a good-natured man who hated persecution. When the edict of Diocletian against Christianity came out, he made sacrifices like the other senators. However, when the governor found out he was hiding a young Christian girl in his home, he ordered Eutyches to be poisoned and Devota to be executed in a brutal manner. Her feet were tied together, and she was dragged over rough ground until her limbs were dislocated, leaving her cut and bruised all over. Later, when she was stretched on the rack, she prayed to Jesus Christ to set her free. Her prayer was answered, and with a gentle sigh, she died. At the same time, a white dove was seen flying above her; it spread its pure wings and soared away into the deep blue sky. That night, a devoted priest named Benenatus, along with a deacon named Apollinarius and a faithful boatman named Gratian, took her body and placed it among spices in a small boat, rowing out to sea. Then a white dove appeared, gliding over the water, pausing, hovering in front of them, then darting ahead; remembering the vision at her death, they followed the dove's lead and reached Monaco, where they [Pg 400] laid her.

S. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM, B. D.

(a.d. 407.)

(A.D. 407.)

[Authorities: Socrates, Sozomen, life by Palladius, and his own writings, &c.]

[Sources: Socrates, Sozomen, Palladius's biography, and his own writings, etc.]

John Chrysostom was the son of Secundus, a military officer, born about 347, at Antioch, and on his father's death, soon afterwards, he became indebted for a careful and Christian training to his pious mother, Anthusa. He studied rhetoric under the accomplished pagan teacher Libanius, who afterwards, on being asked to name his own successor, replied, "John would be the fittest, if the Christians had not stolen him."

John Chrysostom was the son of Secundus, a military officer, born around 347 in Antioch. After his father's death, he owed his careful and Christian upbringing to his devout mother, Anthusa. He studied rhetoric under the skilled pagan teacher Libanius, who later, when asked to name his own successor, replied, "John would be the best choice, if the Christians hadn't taken him."

He was baptized by Meletius, patriarch of Antioch; his chief friend was S. Basil, and Anthusa's earnest pleadings were required to counteract Basil's proposal that they should both retire into monastic life. Chrysostom, as we may most conveniently call him, could not resist his mother's appeal; he continued to live at home, but in the practice of monastic asceticism and the diligent reading of Scripture. He studied theology under Diodore, the companion of Flavian, who had been the champions of orthodoxy against Arianism, first as laymen, and afterwards as priests, in Antioch. Meletius, who had baptized John Chrysostom, was himself a confessor. It was probably about 372-374 that Chrysostom and Basil were spoken of as likely to be made bishops; and Chrysostom, by a singular artifice—the justification of which forms the least pleasing portion of his treatise "On the Priesthood,"—procured Basil's consecration while evading the burden himself.

He was baptized by Meletius, the patriarch of Antioch; his closest friend was St. Basil, and Anthusa's passionate pleas were needed to counter Basil's suggestion that they both retreat into monastic life. Chrysostom, as we can conveniently call him, couldn’t resist his mother's request; he continued to live at home, but practiced monastic asceticism and diligently read Scripture. He studied theology under Diodore, who was a companion of Flavian, both of whom were defenders of orthodoxy against Arianism, first as laymen and later as priests in Antioch. Meletius, who baptized John Chrysostom, was a confessor himself. It was likely around 372-374 that Chrysostom and Basil were discussed as potential bishops; and Chrysostom, through a clever maneuver—the justification of which is the least enjoyable part of his treatise "On the Priesthood"—secured Basil's consecration while avoiding the responsibility himself.

For several years he carried out the plan which, during his mother's lifetime he had abandoned, living first in cenobitic "tabernacles," and afterwards as a hermit in a cave, [Pg 401] until his health, never robust, gave way, and he was obliged to return to Antioch, where he entered the ministry.

For several years, he followed through on the plan he had set aside during his mother’s life, initially living in community "tabernacles" and later as a hermit in a cave, [Pg 401] until his health, which was never strong, deteriorated, and he had to go back to Antioch, where he joined the ministry.

Early in 387, an increase of taxes provoked the people of Antioch to sedition. They threw down the brazen statues of the Emperor Theodosius, and his deceased wife, the pious and charitable Flacilla. Flavian, who had been elected and consecrated patriarch, on the death of Meletius, set forth a little before Lent, to appease the emperor, and met the officers of the empire, sent from court to avenge the insult. His absence was well supplied by Chrysostom, who had recently received priest's orders, and who began to turn this trouble to account by a course of "Sermons on the Statues," as they are called. In these he endeavoured to allay the people's terror, and to convince them of their besetting sins—of which swearing was the chief—and so far succeeded, that the churches were thronged all day. The people of Antioch were pardoned by the emperor at the intercession of the patriarch.

Early in 387, a tax hike led the people of Antioch to revolt. They tore down the bronze statues of Emperor Theodosius and his late wife, the noble and generous Flacilla. Flavian, who had been elected and consecrated as patriarch after Meletius's death, set out just before Lent to appease the emperor and encountered the empire's officers, sent from court to punish the offense. Chrysostom, who had recently been ordained a priest, effectively filled in during Flavian's absence and started giving a series of "Sermons on the Statues." In these sermons, he aimed to calm the people's fear and address their recurring sins, with swearing being the most significant. He succeeded to such an extent that the churches were packed all day. The people of Antioch were forgiven by the emperor thanks to the patriarch's intercession.

S. Chrysostom had been five years deacon, and twelve years priest, when Nectarius, bishop of Constantinople died, in 397, after an episcopate which had relaxed the general tone of the clergy. "Then," says the biographer of S. Chrysostom, "there came together some who were not wanted, priests unworthy of the priesthood, besetting the palace gates, resorting to bribery, falling on their knees even, before the people." Disgusted by this scandalous eagerness for an office which saints were wont to dread, the faithful entreated Arcadius, the Emperor, to look out for one who could administer it worthily. Eutropius, the emperor's chamberlain, had learned by visiting Antioch to admire the character of Chrysostom. He made Arcadius write to the military commander at Antioch, desiring him to send the priest John to Constantinople, without causing any public [Pg 402] excitement. The commander sent a message to Chrysostom, asking him to meet him "at the Church of the Martyrs, near the Roman Gate." Chrysostom complied; was placed in a public conveyance, and hurried away from the scene of his early life and priestly labours. Several bishops were summoned for the consecration. Theophilus of Alexandria had come to Constantinople to solicit the appointment for his priest Isidore. He was required to consecrate Chrysostom, but endeavoured to withdraw, reading the decision and earnestness of Chrysostom in his face, and disliking him, for he was a thoroughly worldly, self-seeking prelate. Eutropius showed him some papers, however, saying, "Choose between consecrating John, and undergoing a trial on the charges made against you in these documents." Theophilus could make no reply. He consecrated Chrysostom on Feb. 26th, a.d. 398; but he never forgave him for having been the cause of this severe mortification.

S. Chrysostom had been a deacon for five years and a priest for twelve when Nectarius, the bishop of Constantinople, died in 397, after a tenure that had loosened the overall conduct of the clergy. "Then," says the biographer of S. Chrysostom, "a crowd gathered of those who were not wanted, unworthy priests trying to bribe their way in, even kneeling before the people." Disgusted by this disgraceful eagerness for a position that saints usually feared, the faithful begged Emperor Arcadius to find someone who could handle it properly. Eutropius, the emperor's chamberlain, had come to admire Chrysostom during a visit to Antioch. He urged Arcadius to write to the military commander in Antioch, asking him to send Priest John to Constantinople without causing any public commotion. The commander sent a message to Chrysostom, asking him to meet at "the Church of the Martyrs, near the Roman Gate." Chrysostom agreed, was placed in a public carriage, and quickly left behind his hometown and priestly work. Several bishops were called for the consecration. Theophilus of Alexandria had come to Constantinople to push for the appointment of his priest Isidore. He was required to consecrate Chrysostom but tried to back out, realizing Chrysostom's determination and seriousness, and not liking him since he was a completely worldly and self-serving prelate. However, Eutropius showed him some papers, saying, "Choose between consecrating John or facing a trial on the charges in these documents." Theophilus had no response. He consecrated Chrysostom on February 26th, A.D. 398; but he never forgave him for causing this significant embarrassment.

Over a city in which intrigue and adulation were practised as the royal road to honour, John Chrysostom, straight forward and outspoken, was set as patriarch. He came to be chief shepherd over a clergy given up to ease and sycophancy, flattering the rich and powerful, fawning on the emperor for place, and betraying their charge, the poor.

Over a city where intrigue and flattery were the key to fame, John Chrysostom, honest and direct, was appointed as patriarch. He became the chief shepherd over a clergy that had surrendered to comfort and servility, praising the rich and powerful, currying favor with the emperor for position, and neglecting their responsibility to the poor.

Chrysostom set to work at once as a reformer of abuses. He forbad the clergy frequenting the banquets of great men; he struggled against the practice of entertaining "spiritual sisters." Several clergy were deprived; Chrysostom drew upon himself the bitter dislike of many members of their body. He examined the accounts of the church-stewards, cut off superfluous expenses, and ordered the sum thus saved to be applied to the maintenance of hospitals. He scrutinized the lives of the widows receiving pension from the Church; he earnestly besought contributions to a fund for the poor; he exhorted the faithful to attend the nocturnal [Pg 403] services, but to leave their wives at home with the children. He rebuked the rich for their pride and selfishness. So great was the charm of his "golden tongued" eloquence, and of the unmistakeable nobleness and sincerity of his character, that "the city put on a new aspect of piety;" and the worship of the Catholics became more real, and their lives more earnest and pure.

Chrysostom immediately got to work as a reformer of corrupt practices. He prohibited the clergy from attending lavish banquets hosted by powerful people; he fought against the trend of entertaining "spiritual sisters." Several clergy members were removed from their positions, and Chrysostom earned the intense dislike of many in their ranks. He reviewed the financial records of the church stewards, cut unnecessary expenses, and directed the money saved to support hospitals. He closely examined the lives of widows receiving pensions from the Church; he passionately appealed for donations to help the poor; he encouraged the faithful to attend nighttime services, but asked them to leave their wives at home with the children. He chastised the wealthy for their pride and selfishness. The appeal of his "golden-tongued" speech, combined with the undeniable nobility and sincerity of his character, led "the city to adopt a new level of piety;" and the worship of Catholics became more genuine, and their lives more serious and pure.

Among those of the higher classes in Constantinople who were offended by the uncompromising character of their new archbishop, was Eutropius, the chamberlain, who had raised him to the see. He desired to see the Church respectable and subservient, the patriarch pious and obedient, to the state. The Church, in his view, was a portion of the state organization, the clergy the moral police, always to be under the direction of the crown. But under Chrysostom's government it was becoming unmanageable and independent. To curtail its liberties, he procured a law to annul the right of asylum in the churches, which had been growing up during the century. But he was soon driven himself, by a revolution in the emperor's counsels, to clasp the altar as the safeguard of his life. Chrysostom violated the new law in defence of its author; and while Eutropius lay cowering in the sanctuary, bade the people take home this new lesson on the vanity of vanities. "The altar," said he, "is more awful than ever, now that it holds the lion chained." He called on his hearers to beg the emperor's clemency, or rather, to ask the God of mercy to save Eutropius from threatened death, and enable him to put away his many crimes. He bravely withstood the court in the cause of Christian humanity; but Eutropius himself quitted the church, and was condemned to exile.

Among the upper classes in Constantinople who were offended by the uncompromising nature of their new archbishop was Eutropius, the chamberlain who had appointed him. He wanted the Church to be respectable and compliant, with the patriarch being pious and obedient to the state. In his view, the Church was part of the state structure, and the clergy were like moral enforcers, always under the crown's authority. However, under Chrysostom's leadership, it was becoming unruly and independent. To limit its freedoms, he got a law passed to remove the right of asylum in churches, which had been growing for a century. But he was soon forced, due to a shift in the emperor's decisions, to cling to the altar as a refuge for his life. Chrysostom broke the new law to defend its creator; while Eutropius hid in the sanctuary, he urged the people to take home this new lesson about the futility of worldly matters. "The altar," he proclaimed, "is more powerful than ever now that it holds the lion chained." He called on his listeners to plead for the emperor's mercy, or rather, to ask the God of compassion to save Eutropius from imminent death and help him repent for his many wrongs. He courageously stood up to the court for the sake of Christian compassion; but Eutropius left the church and was sentenced to exile.

At this time the Origenist controversy was raging with great acrimony. It is difficult to pronounce an opinion upon it. Origen had unquestionably published some [Pg 404] heretical opinions, but some were also attributed to him which he did not hold. Theophilus of Alexandria had leaned strongly towards the Origenists, but he was not a man of principle, and he adopted that view which suited his purposes at the time. Finding it would answer his ends better to oppose Origenism, he denounced it in his Paschal letters, in 401. The monks and hermits of Egypt had been regarded with an evil eye by heathens, Arians, and insincere Christians. All the learned, the philosophers, and men of letters, among the pagans, were emulous in their protest. The impassioned activity of the monks against idolatry, their efforts, more and more successful, to extirpate it from the heart of the rural population, naturally exasperated the last defenders of the idols. The Arians were still more implacable than the Pagans. The tendency of these enemies of the Divinity of Christ was in everything to abuse, degrade, and restrain the spirit of Christianity. How should the monastic life, which was its most magnificent development escape their fury? The war between them and the monks was therefore long and cruel. The persecution which Paganism had scarcely time to light up to its own advantage under Julian, was pitiless under the Arian Constantius, and more skilful, without being more successful, under the Arian Valens. In the time of Constantius, entire monasteries, with the monks they contained, were burnt in Egypt, and in the frightful persecution under the Arian patriarch Lucius, raised in Alexandria, a troop of imperial soldiers ravaged the solitude of Nitria, and massacred its inhabitants. And now Lucius was succeeded by the worldly, ambitious, and utterly unspiritual Theophilus, who hated the poor monks of the desert as a living reproach upon his own self-seeking, and his aim to accommodate Christianity to worldliness. He soon quarrelled with S. Isidore the hospitaller, who had suffered under the Arian [Pg 405] Lucius, and whom he now drove from Alexandria, hating him, as those holding to mammon always will hate those who hold to Christ. Isidore fled to Nitria. Theophilus brought the charge of Origenism against the monks there. The chief Nitrian monks were Dioscorus, Bishop of Nitria, Ammonius, Eusebius, and Euthymius; they were known as the "Tall Brothers." Theophilus ordered them to be expelled; when they came to remonstrate, his eyes flashed, his face became livid, he threw his episcopal pall round the neck of Ammonius, struck him on the face with open palm and clenched fist, and cried, "Heretic, anathematize Origen!" They returned to Nitria; the patriarch, in a synod, condemned them unheard, and proceeded by night to attack their monasteries, at the head of a drunken band. Dioscorus was dragged from his throne; the cells of the other three were burned, together with copies of both Testaments, and even the reserved portions of the Holy Eucharist. It was said that a boy perished in the flames. The brothers, with many of their companions, fled to Scythopolis in Palestine, hoping to support themselves in a place famous for palms, by their occupation of weaving palm-baskets. The enmity of Theophilus hunted them out of this refuge; they reached Constantinople, and fell at Chrysostom's feet, "Who is it," asked he with tears, "that has injured you?" They answered, "Pope Theophilus; prevail upon him, father, to let us live in Egypt, for we have never done aught against him or against our Saviour's law."

At this time, the Origenist controversy was intense and bitter. It's hard to take a clear stance on it. Origen definitely published some heretical views, but many others were wrongly attributed to him. Theophilus of Alexandria had been a strong supporter of the Origenists, but he lacked principles and chose whatever view suited his needs at the moment. When it became more advantageous for him to oppose Origenism, he condemned it in his Paschal letters in 401. The monks and hermits of Egypt were seen unfavorably by pagans, Arians, and insincere Christians. All the learned philosophers and intellectuals among the pagans protested against them. The passionate efforts of the monks to fight idolatry and their increasingly successful attempts to eradicate it among the rural population naturally angered the last defenders of the idols. The Arians were even more relentless than the pagans. These enemies of Christ’s divinity aimed to belittle, degrade, and suppress the spirit of Christianity. How could monastic life, its most magnificent expression, escape their wrath? The conflict between them and the monks was thus long and brutal. The persecution that Paganism barely managed to ignite under Julian became unyielding under the Arian Constantius, and more cunning, though not more effective, under the Arian Valens. During Constantius’s reign, entire monasteries, along with the monks inside, were burned in Egypt, and during the horrific persecution under the Arian patriarch Lucius in Alexandria, a group of imperial soldiers ravaged the solitude of Nitria and massacred its inhabitants. Lucius was then succeeded by the worldly, ambitious, and completely unspiritual Theophilus, who despised the poor monks of the desert as living reminders of his own self-interest and his goal to conform Christianity to worldliness. He quickly clashed with St. Isidore the hospitaller, who had suffered under the Arian Lucius and whom he now expelled from Alexandria, as those who are greedy often hate those who are true to Christ. Isidore fled to Nitria. Theophilus accused the monks there of Origenism. The main Nitrian monks included Dioscorus, the Bishop of Nitria, Ammonius, Eusebius, and Euthymius; they were known as the "Tall Brothers." Theophilus ordered their expulsion; when they came to protest, his eyes flared, his face turned pale, he threw his episcopal pall around Ammonius’s neck, struck him on the face with an open palm and a clenched fist, and shouted, "Heretic, anathematize Origen!" They returned to Nitria; the patriarch condemned them without hearing them in a synod and launched a night raid on their monasteries with a drunken mob. Dioscorus was dragged from his throne; the cells of the other three were burned along with copies of both Testaments and even the reserved portions of the Holy Eucharist. It was reported that a boy perished in the flames. The brothers, along with many companions, fled to Scythopolis in Palestine, hoping to support themselves by weaving palm baskets in a region known for its palm trees. Theophilus's enmity drove them out of this refuge; they reached Constantinople and fell at Chrysostom's feet. "Who has harmed you?" he asked with tears. They replied, "Pope Theophilus; please persuade him, father, to let us live in Egypt, for we have never done anything against him or against our Savior's teachings."

He lodged them in the church called Anastasia; allowed them to attend the service, but prudently, to avoid, if possible, a breach with their persecutor, debarred them from the communion. They had been condemned by their own patriarch, and it was not for him to admit them to communion without a fair investigation and authoritative exculpation. He wrote to Theophilus, in the tone of a "son and [Pg 406] brother," praying him to be reconciled to the fugitives; but Theophilus, who disclaimed his right to interfere, defamed them as sorcerers and heretics. The Tall Brothers now appealed to the emperor and empress, who ordered Theophilus to be summoned, and the accusations against the brothers made by him to be examined. The accusations were soon proved to be groundless. Theophilus, who openly said he was "going to court in order to depose John," arrived in Constantinople in June, 402, with a load of gifts for the emperor, the empress, and the court, from Egypt and India. He at once assumed a tone of contumelious hostility towards S. Chrysostom. He would not visit or speak to him; he even abstained from entering the church.

He housed them in the church called Anastasia; let them attend the service, but wisely, to avoid any conflict with their persecutor, kept them from communion. They had been condemned by their own patriarch, and it wasn’t his place to allow them to take communion without a proper investigation and official clearing of their names. He wrote to Theophilus, addressing him as a "son and brother," asking him to reconcile with the fugitives; but Theophilus, who claimed he had no right to interfere, labeled them as sorcerers and heretics. The Tall Brothers then appealed to the emperor and empress, who ordered Theophilus to be summoned, and the accusations against the brothers made by him to be investigated. The accusations were quickly proven to be baseless. Theophilus, who openly stated he was "going to court to accuse John," arrived in Constantinople in June 402, bringing gifts for the emperor, the empress, and the court from Egypt and India. He immediately took on an openly contemptuous attitude towards S. Chrysostom. He refused to visit or speak to him; he even avoided entering the church.

While Chrysostom declined to hear judicially the complaints of the Tall Brothers, Theophilus was concocting a scheme for his deposition. All the courtiers among the bishops, and the worldly among the clergy desired it, for their tempers rebelled against godly discipline, and the example of his own self-denial was a standing protest against their self-indulgence. Acacius, Bishop of Berrhœa, had been provided with so homely a lodging by Chrysostom that he joined the malcontents, venting his spleen in the curious menace, "I will cook a dish for him!" Eudoxia, the empress, who had heard of a sermon in which Chrysostom had lashed the pride of women, took the side of his enemies, who determined to hold a council at a suburb of Chalcedon, called "The Oak." The bishops who attended were thirty-six. Twenty-nine charges were advanced against the patriarch. Some were of open violence; that he had beaten and chained a monk, had struck a man in church so as to draw blood, and then had offered the sacrifice. Others were of evil speaking; he had said his clergy "were not worth three-pence;" he had accused three deacons of having stolen his [Pg 407] pall. He was also charged with misconduct in his office; he sold church furniture, had been careless in conferring orders; he was unsociable, gave women private interviews, was irreverent in church, and ate wafers while sitting on his throne. Some of these charges were gross exaggerations of that plain-spoken severity which knew no respect of persons. Others were inventions more or less malignant. One of the basest was the charge about disposing of church ornaments. Like other saints, he had done so for the sake of the suffering poor.

While Chrysostom refused to officially hear the complaints of the Tall Brothers, Theophilus was plotting his removal. All the courtiers among the bishops and the worldly clergy wanted this, as they felt resentful toward godly discipline, and Chrysostom's example of self-denial was a constant reminder of their own self-indulgence. Acacius, the Bishop of Berrhœa, had been given such a humble lodging by Chrysostom that he joined the dissenters, expressing his anger with the ominous remark, "I will cook a dish for him!" Eudoxia, the empress, who had heard of a sermon where Chrysostom criticized women's pride, sided with his enemies, who decided to hold a council in a suburb of Chalcedon called "The Oak." Thirty-six bishops attended. Twenty-nine accusations were made against the patriarch. Some were of direct violence; he was said to have beaten and chained a monk, struck a man in church to the point of bleeding, and then offered the sacrifice. Others were about slander; he had claimed his clergy "weren't worth three-pence;" and he accused three deacons of stealing his pall. He was also charged with misconduct in his role; selling church furnishings, being careless in granting orders, being unfriendly, giving women private meetings, being irreverent in church, and eating wafers while sitting on his throne. Some of these charges were gross exaggerations of his straightforward severity that showed no favoritism. Others were fabrications that were more or less malicious. One of the worst was the accusation about mishandling church ornaments. Like other saints, he had done this for the sake of the suffering poor.

While these charges were being read at the Oak, he sat in his palace with forty bishops, and consoled them by quoting texts of Scripture. "I am now ready to be offered. Do not weep and break my heart! To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain."

While these charges were being read at the Oak, he sat in his palace with forty bishops, and comforted them by quoting Scripture. "I’m ready to be offered. Don’t weep and break my heart! For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain."

Now entered two young bishops from the council at the Oak citing "John" to appear, with other clergy. The forty bishops sent a deputation to remonstrate with Theophilus. Chrysostom, for himself, sent word that he objected to Theophilus and three others as disqualified, by avowed hostility, to be his judges. A bishop, named Isaac, produced a new list of charges, three of which were remarkable. He had used strong language about fervour of rapturous devotion. He had been emphatic in his assurances of Divine long-suffering. This was denounced as an encouragement of sinners in their sins; but it was forgotten that he had warned men against presuming thereon. "He had eaten before administering baptism," that is the Paschal baptism which was followed immediately by a celebration of the Holy Eucharist, and which therefore implied non-fasting performance of the sacrifice; and "he had given the Eucharist to persons who were not fasting;" two charges which he vehemently denied. "If I have done this, may my name be effaced from the roll of bishops," he said. The council pronounced him contumacious, [Pg 408] and deposed him, requesting the emperor, Arcadius, also to punish him for insolence towards Eudoxia. This was in 403.

Two young bishops from the council at the Oak showed up, calling for "John" to appear, along with other clergy. The forty bishops sent a delegation to protest to Theophilus. Chrysostom, for his part, sent a message saying he objected to Theophilus and three others as being biased and therefore unqualified to judge him. A bishop named Isaac presented a new list of accusations, three of which were particularly notable. He had used strong language about intense devotion. He had stressed his belief in Divine patience. This was criticized as encouraging sinners in their wrongdoing, but it was overlooked that he had also warned people not to take that for granted. "He had eaten before performing baptism," specifically the Paschal baptism, which was immediately followed by a celebration of the Holy Eucharist and implied that the sacrifice was performed without fasting; and "he had given the Eucharist to people who weren't fasting," two charges he strongly denied. "If I have done this, may my name be removed from the list of bishops," he said. The council declared him defiant, [Pg 408] and removed him from his position, asking the emperor, Arcadius, to also punish him for his disrespect toward Eudoxia. This took place in 403.

Appealing in vain to a more just tribunal, Chrysostom was dragged from his church, and hurried by night into Bithynia. That night an earthquake shook the palace; Eudoxia, frightened at the omen, wrote to the exile, entreating him to return. He was escorted to the city by a joyous multitude, bearing tapers and chanting psalms, who forced him, in spite of the irregularity of such a proceeding, to ascend his throne, before the sentence of the council of the Oak could be annulled. This was, however, speedily done by a synod of sixty bishops; the hostile assembly could not stand its ground, and Theophilus, after meanly forcing the two surviving brothers, on the ground of their monastic obedience, to ask his pardon, consulted his safety by flight to Alexandria.

Appealing in vain to a fairer court, Chrysostom was forcibly removed from his church and taken under cover of night to Bithynia. That night, an earthquake shook the palace; Eudoxia, alarmed by the sign, wrote to the exile, pleading for his return. He was welcomed back to the city by a joyful crowd, carrying candles and singing psalms, who insisted he take his place on the throne, despite the irregularity of the situation, before the council's decision could be overturned. This was quickly accomplished by a gathering of sixty bishops; the opposing group could not maintain their position, and Theophilus, after dishonorably compelling the two surviving brothers, citing their monastic obedience, to seek his forgiveness, fled for his safety to Alexandria.

New troubles soon began. In September of the same year 403, a silver statue of the Empress Eudoxia was erected near the cathedral, and the Manichean governor of the city encouraged wild and heathenish dancing in its honour, which interrupted the church service. Chrysostom spoke strongly on the subject, and was said to have begun a sermon with the words, "Again Herodias rages, again she demands the head of John." The foes of the archbishop seized the opportunity. His old enemy Theophilus sent three bishops to Constantinople. The feeble Emperor Arcadius was persuaded to order that Chrysostom should be refused the use of the churches. Easter-eve came, April 16. Arcadius said to the chief adversaries of Chrysostom, "See to it, that you are not giving me wrong counsel." "On our heads," they answered, "be the deposition of John!" One of the forty faithful bishops bade the haughty empress fear God, and have pity on her own children. As the churches [Pg 409] were closed to S. John Chrysostom, he held the solemn services of the day in the Baths of Constantine. Thither the people thronged, abandoning the churches. The courtier bishops complained, and it was resolved to break up this assembly. A band of soldiers was sent together with four hundred barbarian recruits to clear the bath, about 9 p.m. They pressed onwards to the font, dispersed the catechumens, for on that day it was customary to baptize great numbers, struck the priests on the head until their blood was mingled with the baptismal water, rushed up to the altar where the sacred Body and Blood were reserved for communicating the newly baptized, and overthrew them, so that as S. Chrysostom says in his letter to Pope Innocent of Rome, "the most holy Blood of Christ, as might be expected in so great a tumult, was spilled on the clothes of the soldiers." Thus were the Arian horrors renewed. On Easter-day, Arcadius, riding out of the city, saw some three thousand newly baptized in their white robes. "Who are those persons?" he asked. "They are heretics," was the answer; and a new onslaught was made upon them. During the paschal season, those who would not disown S. Chrysostom were cast into prison. Within the churches, instead of the joyful worship of the season, were heard the sounds of torture, and the terrible oaths by which men were commanded to anathematize the archbishop. His life was twice attempted; his people guarded his house; he wrote an account of what had happened to the Bishops of Rome, Milan and Aquileia. Pope Innocent, who had already heard Theophilus' version of the story, continued his communion for the present to both parties, but summoned Theophilus to attend a council.

New troubles soon started. In September of the same year, 403, a silver statue of Empress Eudoxia was put up near the cathedral, and the Manichean governor of the city promoted wild and pagan dancing in its honor, which interrupted the church service. Chrysostom spoke out strongly against this, reportedly beginning a sermon with the words, "Once again, Herodias is enraged, once again she demands the head of John." His enemies seized the moment. His longtime rival Theophilus sent three bishops to Constantinople. The weak Emperor Arcadius was convinced to order that Chrysostom should be barred from the churches. Easter Eve arrived on April 16. Arcadius told Chrysostom's main opponents, "Make sure you're not misadvising me." They replied, "Let the deposition of John fall on us!" One of the forty faithful bishops urged the prideful empress to fear God and have compassion for her own children. As the churches were closed to St. John Chrysostom, he held the solemn services of the day in the Baths of Constantine. The people flocked there, abandoning the churches. The court bishops complained, and it was decided to break up the gathering. A group of soldiers, along with four hundred barbarian recruits, was sent to clear the bath around 9 p.m. They moved toward the font, scattering the catechumens, as it was customary to baptize many on that day, struck the priests on the head until their blood mixed with the baptismal water, rushed to the altar where the sacred Body and Blood were reserved for communicating the newly baptized, and overturned them, so that as St. Chrysostom wrote in his letter to Pope Innocent of Rome, "the most holy Blood of Christ, as you might expect in such great chaos, was spilled on the clothes of the soldiers." Thus, the horrors of Arianism returned. On Easter day, Arcadius, riding out of the city, saw about three thousand newly baptized individuals in their white robes. "Who are those people?" he asked. "They are heretics," came the reply, and a new attack was launched against them. During the Easter season, those who refused to deny St. Chrysostom were thrown into prison. Instead of the joyful worship typically held during the season, the sounds of torture filled the churches, along with the terrible oaths demanding that men anathematize the archbishop. His life was attempted twice; his people guarded his house; he wrote an account of the events to the Bishops of Rome, Milan, and Aquileia. Pope Innocent, who had already heard Theophilus' version of the tale, continued to communicate with both sides for the time being, but summoned Theophilus to attend a council.

Towards the end of Whitsun-week, Arcadius was prevailed upon to send another mandate to Chrysostom—"Commend your affairs to God, and depart." Chrysostom [Pg 410] was persuaded to depart secretly; he called his friends to prayer; kissed them, bade farewell in the baptistry to the deaconesses, and desired them to submit to a new bishop, if he were ordained without having solicited the see. "The Church cannot be without a bishop." Whilst the people waited for him to mount his horse at the great western door, he went out at the eastern; repeating to himself the words of Job, "Naked came I out of my mother's womb, and naked I return thither!"

Towards the end of Whitsun week, Arcadius was convinced to send another message to Chrysostom—"Put your affairs in God's hands and leave." Chrysostom [Pg 410] agreed to leave secretly; he gathered his friends for prayer; kissed them, said goodbye to the deaconesses in the baptistry, and asked them to accept a new bishop if one was appointed without his request. "The Church cannot be without a bishop." While the people waited for him to get on his horse at the main western door, he slipped out through the eastern one, repeating to himself the words of Job, "I came into this world naked, and I will leave it naked!"

This was his final expulsion, June 20th, 404; he crossed over to Bithynia, while a fire broke out which consumed the cathedral and the palace of the senate. Some ascribed it to incendiaries; others called it a sign of divine wrath. Several of Chrysostom's friends, the "Joannites," as they were called, were cruelly treated, as if guilty of the fire.[126]

This was his last expulsion, June 20th, 404; he moved to Bithynia, while a fire erupted that destroyed the cathedral and the senate palace. Some said it was started by arsonists; others believed it was a sign of divine anger. Many of Chrysostom's friends, known as the "Joannites," were harshly punished, as if they were responsible for the fire.[126]

The place of his exile was Cucusus, in Armenia; and there, after a journey, the pain of which was only alleviated by marks of sympathy and reverence, he arrived in the middle of September. The bishop of Cucusus offered to resign his see in his favour; and Dioscorus, a man of rank, entreated him as a favour to occupy his own house, which he fitted up for the exile's convenience, with a liberality against which Chrysostom writes, "I am continually exclaiming." Very soon after he reached Cucusus, the Empress Eudoxia bore a dead child and expired.

The place of his exile was Cucusus, in Armenia; and there, after a journey made less painful by gestures of sympathy and respect, he arrived in mid-September. The bishop of Cucusus offered to resign his position for him, and Dioscorus, a man of high standing, asked him as a favor to stay in his home, which he prepared with great generosity, prompting Chrysostom to say, "I am always expressing my amazement." Soon after he arrived in Cucusus, Empress Eudoxia gave birth to a stillborn child and passed away.

Pope Innocent wrote to the exile, exhorting him to patience by Scriptural examples. "A good man can be exercised, but he cannot be overcome, while the Divine Scriptures fortify his mind. Venerable brother, let your conscience comfort you." He also wrote to the clergy and laity of Constantinople, declaring his intention of holding a General Council for the composing of these miserable quarrels.

Pope Innocent wrote to the exile, urging him to be patient using examples from the Bible. "A good person can be tested, but they cannot be defeated as long as the Holy Scriptures strengthen their mind. Dear brother, let your conscience bring you comfort." He also wrote to the clergy and laypeople of Constantinople, announcing his plan to hold a General Council to resolve these unfortunate disputes.

The saintly exile in Cucusus, while suffering from illness and intense cold, and in constant peril from freebooters, continued to discharge the office of a good shepherd. He wrote letter after letter to the faithful lady Olympias in Constantinople, exhorting her to remember that the only trial really terrible was sin. He lamented that faithful bishops were suffering for adherence to his communion; he exhorted them and their clergy to be of good courage. His pastoral thoughtfulness extended far beyond a merely general care for his brethren's welfare. We find him rebuking two priests of Constantinople, one of whom had only preached five times between his expulsion and October, while the other had not preached once; setting on foot a mission to the pagans of Phœnicia; anxious to have a good bishop consecrated for the Goths; drawing tighter the old ties which bound him to the clergy of Antioch, and employing part of his friend's contributions in the redemption of captives, and the relief of the poor.

The holy exile in Cucusus, while battling illness and freezing temperatures and constantly at risk from raiders, kept fulfilling his role as a good shepherd. He wrote letter after letter to the devoted lady Olympias in Constantinople, urging her to remember that the only truly terrible trial was sin. He expressed sorrow that loyal bishops were suffering for sticking to his communion; he encouraged them and their clergy to stay strong. His pastoral concern went far beyond just a general care for his brothers' well-being. We see him reprimanding two priests from Constantinople, one of whom had only preached five times between his expulsion and October, while the other hadn’t preached at all; initiating a mission to the pagans of Phoenicia; eager to have a good bishop ordained for the Goths; strengthening the old connections with the clergy of Antioch, and using part of his friend's donations to free captives and help the needy.

Pope Innocent now boldly espoused his cause, as that of a confessor for righteousness' sake. He assembled a synod, and persuaded Honorius, Emperor of the West, who had already remonstrated with Arcadius, Emperor of the East, to write in a more peremptory tone, demanding a council at Thessalonica, and pointing out Theophilus of Alexandria as the reputed author of the present evils.

Pope Innocent now confidently supported his cause, acting as a defender of righteousness. He gathered a synod and convinced Honorius, the Emperor of the West, who had already addressed Arcadius, the Emperor of the East, to write in a stronger tone, demanding a council in Thessalonica, and highlighting Theophilus of Alexandria as the supposed source of the current issues.

Towards the end of the year, the furious incursions of the Isaurian robbers, filling the country with rapine and bloodshed, compelled S. Chrysostom to take shelter in the castle of Arabiscus. The winter was again a time of discomfort; he could not obtain a sufficiency of medicines; and the snow-drifts prevented him from receiving his friend's letters. About this time the western delegates sent from Rome with four eastern bishops who had gone thither to plead the cause of Chrysostom, were intercepted [Pg 412] on their way to Constantinople, and confined in a fortress, their credentials were violently wrung from them, and instead of being allowed to see Arcadius, the westerns were sent back to Italy, the easterns banished to the frontiers of the empire. On their way they were cruelly harassed, robbed of their money, wearied by prolonged days' journeys, and compelled to lodge in the lowest haunts of profligacy. One of them consoled his brethren by observing that their presence recalled the wretched women to thoughts of God, which might result in their salvation, and His glory. That the persecution was in great measure a systematic revenge on Chrysostom as the representative of clerical strictness, is evidenced by such a fact as that a venerable man named Hilary was scourged, not by a judge, but by the clergy. Chrysostom wrote to thank his western friends for their sympathy, and sent a second letter to Pope Innocent, assuring him that "in the third year of exile, amid famine, pestilence, war, sieges, indescribable solitude, and daily peril from Isaurian swords, he was greatly consoled and delighted by Innocent's genuine, stedfast, and abundant charity."

Towards the end of the year, the fierce attacks from the Isaurian robbers, which filled the land with plunder and violence, forced S. Chrysostom to seek refuge in the castle of Arabiscus. The winter was once again uncomfortable; he couldn't get enough medicine, and the snow kept him from receiving letters from his friends. Around this time, the western delegates sent from Rome, along with four eastern bishops who had gone there to advocate for Chrysostom, were intercepted on their way to Constantinople and imprisoned in a fortress. Their credentials were violently seized, and instead of being allowed to meet Arcadius, the westerners were sent back to Italy, while the easterners were exiled to the edges of the empire. On their journey, they were cruelly mistreated, robbed of their money, exhausted by long days of travel, and forced to stay in the most disreputable places. One of them comforted his companions by saying that their presence reminded the miserable women of God, which might lead to their salvation and His glory. The persecution was largely a calculated revenge against Chrysostom, as a representative of strict clerical standards, evidenced by the fact that a respected man named Hilary was whipped, not by a judge, but by the clergy. Chrysostom wrote to thank his western friends for their support and sent a second letter to Pope Innocent, assuring him that "in the third year of exile, amid famine, disease, war, sieges, unbearable isolation, and constant danger from Isaurian swords, he was greatly comforted and pleased by Innocent's genuine, steadfast, and abundant charity."

The winter of 406-7 was severe, but Chrysostom preserved his health by never stirring out of a close and well-warmed chamber. In the summer his enemies, dreading his influence on the people of Antioch, who went to visit him, procured an order for his removal to Pityus on the shores of the Black Sea, the last fortress of the empire. His guards were ordered to exhaust him by long journeys. Through scorching heat and drenching rains, he was hurried on, and never allowed the refreshment of the bath; one only of the guards being disposed to show him furtive kindnesses. For three months this painful journey lasted; at length they halted at the Church of S. Basiliscus, a short distance from Comana, in Pontus. That night, the sufferer [Pg 413] had a foreboding that his release was at hand. The martyr Basiliscus appeared to him and said, "Courage, brother John, tomorrow we shall be together." In the morning, Sept 14, 407, he begged to be allowed to stay in the church until eleven o'clock in the forenoon. It could not be; he was forced to proceed, but after travelling about four miles, he was so evidently dying, that they returned to the church. There he asked for white garments, and exchanged for them those which he wore. He was still fasting; he received the Holy Communion, doubtless from the priest of the church, offered up his last prayer, added his usual thanksgiving, "Glory to God for all things," and sealed it with a final, Amen. "Then he stretched out his feet, which had run so beauteously for the salvation of the penitent, and the rebuke of the habitual sinners," and calmly expired, in about the sixtieth year of his age, and in the tenth of his episcopate. He was buried beside the martyr Basiliscus, the funeral being attended by a throng of virgins and monks from Syria, Cilicia, Pontus, and Armenia. No comment on his glorious life could be so expressive as the doxology with which it closed, and which, gathering into one view all its contrasts, recognised not only in success and honour, but in cruel outrage, and homeless desolation, the gracious presence of a never-changing Love.[127]

The winter of 406-7 was harsh, but Chrysostom stayed healthy by rarely leaving a cozy and warm room. In the summer, his enemies, fearing his impact on the people of Antioch who came to see him, arranged for his exile to Pityus on the Black Sea coast, the empire's last fortress. His guards were instructed to wear him out with long journeys. He was rushed through scorching heat and heavy rains, never allowed a refreshing bath; only one guard showed him any secret kindness. This difficult journey lasted three months; eventually, they stopped at the Church of St. Basiliscus, not far from Comana in Pontus. That night, the suffering man had a feeling that his release was near. The martyr Basiliscus appeared to him and said, "Courage, brother John, tomorrow we shall be together." In the morning, September 14, 407, he requested to stay in the church until eleven o'clock. This was not possible; he had to move on, but after traveling about four miles, he was clearly dying, so they returned to the church. There, he asked for white garments and changed out of his own. He was still fasting; he received Holy Communion, likely from the church's priest, offered his last prayer, added his usual thanks, "Glory to God for all things," and sealed it with a final, Amen. "Then he stretched out his feet, which had run so beautifully for the salvation of the repentant and to rebuke habitual sinners," and peacefully passed away, around sixty years old, and in the tenth year of his episcopate. He was buried beside the martyr Basiliscus, with a crowd of virgins and monks attending from Syria, Cilicia, Pontus, and Armenia. No commentary on his glorious life could be as powerful as the doxology that marked its end, which, bringing together all its contrasts, acknowledged the constant presence of unchanging Love in both success and honor, as well as in cruel outrage and homelessness.[127]

S. LUPUS, B. OF CHALONS.

(7th cent.)

(7th century)

[Called in France Loup, Leul, or Leu. He was canonized by Pope John VIII, in 879; he is commemorated on this day at Châlons; also there on April 30th, the day of his canonization. His life is by an anonymous writer, who says that he wrote it from the remembrance of those who had read the Acts of S. Lupus which had been destroyed by fire.]

Known in France as Loup, Leul, or Leu. He was canonized by Pope John VIII in 879; he is commemorated today in Châlons, and also on April 30th, the anniversary of his canonization. An anonymous author wrote his biography, claiming it was based on the memories of those who had read the Acts of S. Lupus, which were destroyed in a fire.

S. Lupus, Bishop of Cabilinum, or Châlons sur Saone, flourished about the year 610. He was the son of honourable parents, and he commended himself to the people by his abundant charity, his self-denial, and his tenderness to the sick. Châlons being ill-provided with drinking water, and the soil dry and sandy, he miraculously provided it with an abundant spring which flows to the present day. The story is thus told. He stood one day with his ivory pastoral staff in hand watching the hay makers; the sun was hot, and the labourers were exhausted. Moved with compassion, and knowing that the turbid waters of the river were unfit to drink, he struck his staff into the sand, and a limpid spring bubbled up. When dying he sent for the governor of Châlons, and begged him to pardon the unfortunate wretches who languished in the prison under sentence of death. The governor roughly refused. After Lupus was dead, his funeral passed the city prison, and the bier was set down at that place. The prisoners stretched their hands through the bars of their windows crying piteously. Instantly their chains fell off, the doors flew open, and they were set at liberty.

S. Lupus, Bishop of Cabilinum, or Châlons sur Saône, lived around the year 610. He was the son of respectable parents and won the people's admiration through his generous charity, selflessness, and compassion for the sick. Since Châlons struggled with a lack of drinking water and had dry, sandy soil, he miraculously provided an abundant spring that still flows today. The story goes like this: One day, holding his ivory pastoral staff, he was watching the haymakers work under the hot sun, and the laborers were worn out. Moved by compassion and knowing that the muddy river water was unsafe to drink, he struck his staff into the sand, and a clear spring bubbled up. As he lay dying, he called for the governor of Châlons and asked him to pardon the unfortunate souls languishing in prison under the death sentence. The governor roughly refused. After Lupus passed away, his funeral procession passed by the city prison, where the bier was stopped. The prisoners reached out their hands through the bars of their windows, crying sadly. Instantly, their chains fell off, the doors swung open, and they were set free.

S. THEODORIC II, B. C. OF ORLEANS.

(a.d. 1022.)

(AD 1022.)

[Called in France Thierry. Authority: an ancient life in Bollandus.]

[Known in France as Thierry. Source: a historical reference in Bollandus.]

S. Thierry was born at Château Thierry, so called from an ancestor of the saint, whose family was noble and wealthy. He was taken to court and gained the confidence of King Robert the Good. On the death of Bishop Arnulf of Orleans, Thierry was elected, with the consent of the king, to fill the vacant see. His appointment was opposed by a priest named Adalric who had desired the throne for himself, and who had the indecency to burst into the church [Pg 415] with a band of armed men, and thrust up to the very altar, uttering violent menaces, when Thierry was being consecrated, in the hopes of terrifying the consecrating bishops from what they were doing. Afterwards the priest at the head of a party of ruffians waylaid the Bishop by night, in a lane, and throwing him from his horse, ran him through, as they believed, with a sword. The weapon providentially cut through his garments without wounding him; and when the would-be assassins had fled, he rose and regained the city. Adalric, fearing the consequences, threw himself on the compassion of the Bishop, and asked his pardon, which Thierry frankly accorded him. Thierry died on a journey at Tonnerre, where his kinsman Count Milo built the church of S. Michael over his body. He was succeeded on the throne of Orleans by the priest Adalric.

S. Thierry was born in Château Thierry, named after an ancestor of the saint, who came from a noble and wealthy family. He was brought to the royal court and earned the trust of King Robert the Good. After Bishop Arnulf of Orleans passed away, Thierry was elected to take his place, with the king's approval. This appointment faced opposition from a priest named Adalric, who had ambitions for the position himself. Adalric shamelessly stormed into the church with a group of armed men, interrupting the consecration of Thierry by charging to the altar and making violent threats in an attempt to intimidate the bishops. Later, this priest led a group of thugs who ambushed the Bishop at night in an alley. They threw him off his horse and tried to stab him with a sword, but fortunately, the blade only cut through his clothes without injuring him. After the attackers fled, he got up and made his way back to the city. Fearing the repercussions, Adalric sought forgiveness from the Bishop, and Thierry graciously granted it. Thierry passed away during a journey at Tonnerre, where his relative Count Milo constructed the church of S. Michael over his grave. Adalric then took over the position in Orleans.

S. JOHN, B. OF FRENCH FLANDERS.

(a.d. 1130.)

(A.D. 1130.)

This saint was forced into the episcopate by Pope Urban against his desire. He was a most meek and gentle-spirited man, full of thought for others, but severe upon himself, as was evidenced by one little fact noticed by his biographer. He was wont to rise very early to his prayers, and when he did so, he took the greatest care not to disturb others in the room and house. When he was dying, crowds of people came to see his loved face for the last time, and he gave them his benediction, and died in so doing.

This saint was compelled to become a bishop by Pope Urban, even though he didn’t want to. He was a very kind and gentle person, always thinking of others, but hard on himself, as shown by a small detail noted by his biographer. He used to wake up very early for his prayers, and when he did, he made sure not to disturb anyone else in the room or the house. As he was dying, crowds of people gathered to see his beloved face one last time, and he gave them his blessing before he passed away.

FOOTNOTES:

[126] See concerning the fire and subsequent persecution in the account of SS. Eutropius and Tygris, Jan. 12th; p. 163.

[126] Check the account of SS. Eutropius and Tygris regarding the fire and the following persecution, Jan. 12th; p. 163.

[127] This life is, for the most part, taken from the Rev. Canon Bright's "Hist. of the Church from a.d. 313 to a.d. 451." London, 1863.

[127] This account is mostly sourced from Rev. Canon Bright's "History of the Church from A.D. 313 to A.D. 451." London, 1863.


January 28.

SS. Thyrsus, Leucius and Others, MM., in Asia, a.d. 250.
SS. Emilian, B., Hilarian, Mk., and Others, MM., at Trevi, in
Umbria
, a.d. 303.
S. Valerius, B. of Saragossa, beginning of 4th cent.
S. Palladius, H., in Syria, end of 4th cent.
S. Cyril, Pat. of Alexandria, a.d. 444.
S. John, Ab. of Reomay, circ. a.d. 545.
S. James, H., in Palestine, 6th cent.
S. Paulinus, Patr. of Aquileia, a.d. 804.
B. Charlemagne, Emp., a.d. 814.
S. Richard, Ab. of Valcelles, in France, 12th cent.
S. Julian, B. of Cuenca, in Spain, a.d. 1207.
B. Margaret, of Hungary, V.O.S.D.; a.d. 1271.
B. Gentile, W., Ravenna, a.d. 1530.

Saints Thyrsus, Leucius, and Others, Martyrs in Asia, A.D. 250.
Saint Emilian, Bishop, Hilarian, Martyr, and Others, Martyrs at Trevi, in
Umbria
, A.D. 303.
Saint Valerius, Bishop of Saragossa, early 4th century
Saint Palladius, Martyr in Syria, late 4th century
Saint Cyril, Patriarch of Alexandria, A.D. 444.
Saint John, Abbot of Reomay, around A.D. 545.
Saint James, Martyr in Palestine, 6th century
Saint Paulinus, Patriarch of Aquileia, A.D. 804.
Blessed Charlemagne, Emperor, A.D. 814.
Saint Richard, Abbot of Valcelles, in France, 12th century
Saint Julian, Bishop of Cuenca, in Spain, A.D. 1207.
Blessed Margaret, of Hungary, V.O.S.D.; A.D. 1271.
Blessed Gentile, Widow, Ravenna, A.D. 1530.

SS. THYRSUS, LEUCIUS, CALLINICUS, AND OTHERS, MM.

(a.d. 250.)

(A.D. 250.)

[Roman Kalendar on Jan. 28th; Greek Menæa on Dec. 14th; Mart. attributed to S. Jerome on Jan. 20th. The martyrs not having all suffered the same day or in the same places, has led to considerable variety in the days of their commemoration. Their Acts are extant in three forms, agreeing together in most particulars, and evidently amplifications by different hands of the original Acts. They are not to be implicitly relied upon.]

[Roman Calendar on January 28th; Greek Menæa on December 14th; Mart. attributed to St. Jerome on January 20th. Since the martyrs didn’t all suffer on the same day or in the same places, there’s a lot of variation in the days they are remembered. Their stories exist in three versions, mostly agreeing but clearly expanded by different authors from the original accounts. They shouldn’t be seen as entirely reliable.]

I.

n the reign of the Emperor Decius, Combritius, the governor of Bithynia, made the circuit of the province, to carry into execution the severe imperial edict against the Christians. Being a man of a naturally cruel disposition he subjected those brought before him to the most exquisite torments his ingenuity could devise. Thyrsus had his eyelids pierced, and rings put through them, and molten lead was poured down his back. His arms and legs were broken. He died in prison. Leucius was hung up, and torn with iron hooks, and then decapitated; Callinicus and several others suffered in this [Pg 417] persecution by various deaths.

During the reign of Emperor Decius, Combritius, the governor of Bithynia, traveled around the province to enforce the harsh imperial edict against Christians. Naturally cruel, he subjected those brought before him to the most painful tortures he could think of. Thyrsus had his eyelids pierced with rings, and molten lead was poured down his back. His arms and legs were broken. He died in prison. Leucius was hung up, tortured with iron hooks, and then beheaded; Callinicus and several others endured various deaths in this [Pg 417] persecution.

S. VALERIUS, B. OF SARAGOSSA.

(beginning of 4th cent.)

(early 4th century)

[Roman Martyrology, but in others on Jan. 19th, 22th, 23rd, or 29th.]

[Roman Martyrology, but in other sources on Jan. 19th, 22nd, 23rd, or 29th.]

Of this saint little is known, except that he associated with him S. Vincent, to speak for him, he having an impediment in his speech. When Dacian persecuted the Church, S. Valerius was taken to Valentia and there imprisoned. When brought forth and interrogated, his nervousness prevented him from articulating a word, therefore Vincent, the deacon, spoke for him. Vincent was ordered to execution, but Valerius was banished.

Of this saint, not much is known, except that he had S. Vincent speak on his behalf due to a speech impediment. When Dacian persecuted the Church, S. Valerius was taken to Valentia and imprisoned there. When he was brought out and questioned, his nervousness made it impossible for him to say anything, so Vincent, the deacon, spoke for him. Vincent was sentenced to execution, but Valerius was exiled.

S. PALLADIUS, H. IN SYRIA.

(end of 4th cent.)

(end of 4th century)

[This Palladius is not to be confounded with the author of the Historia Lausiaca. He is mentioned by Theodoret, who relates of him all that is known.]

This Palladius shouldn't be confused with the writer of the Historia Lausiaca. He is referenced by Theodoret, who gives all the information we have about him.

Palladius was a friend of Simeon the Ancient; they often met to encourage one another in the practice of self-denial and prayer. One incident in the life of this hermit has been alone transmitted to us. Not far from his cell was a frequented market. A merchant who had been at it was waylaid, robbed and murdered by a man who, after having done the deed, cast the body by the door of the hermit's cell. Next day a crowd assembled, instigated by the murderer, and with threatening looks and words, they broke open the hermit's door, and drew him forth, charging him with the murder. Then Palladius raised his hands and eyes to heaven and prayed. And when his prayer was concluded, he turned to the corpse and said, "Young man, designate [Pg 418] the murderer!" Thereupon the dead man partly rose, raised his hand and pointed at him who had killed him; and when he was apprehended, articles belonging to the deceased were discovered upon him.

Palladius was a friend of Simeon the Ancient; they often met to support each other in practicing self-denial and prayer. One story from the life of this hermit has been passed down to us. Not far from his cell, there was a busy market. A merchant who had been there was ambushed, robbed, and murdered by someone who, after committing the crime, left the body by the hermit's door. The next day, a crowd gathered, stirred up by the murderer, and with angry looks and words, they broke down the hermit's door and dragged him out, accusing him of the murder. Then Palladius raised his hands and eyes to heaven and prayed. Once he finished his prayer, he turned to the corpse and said, "Young man, point out the murderer!" At that, the dead man partially rose, raised his hand, and pointed to the one who had killed him; and when he was caught, the dead man's belongings were found on him.

S. CYRIL, PATR. OF ALEXANDRIA.

(a.d. 444.)

(A.D. 444.)

[Roman Martyrology. The Greeks celebrate the memory of S. Cyril on June 9th, and commemorate him together with S. Athanasius on June 18th. Authorities: Socrates, Sozomen, Marius Mercator, the Acts of the council of Ephesus, and his own letters and treatises &c.]

[Roman Martyrology. The Greeks celebrate St. Cyril's memory on June 9th and also commemorate him alongside St. Athanasius on June 18th. Sources: Socrates, Sozomen, Marius Mercator, the Acts of the Council of Ephesus, and his own letters and writings, etc.]

This great champion of the faith has been attacked by modern writers as passionate and intolerant; it is true that he was guilty of several errors in administrating his patriarchate, and that his impetuosity gave the impulse which led to serious violation of justice. But we must remember that no man, not the greatest of saints, is without imperfection of character, and that the greatest of saints are they who, having serious natural defects, have mastered them by their faith and self-control. S. Cyril began his patriarchate under disadvantageous circumstances. He was the nephew of Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, Chrysostom's worst enemy, a man devoid of principle, wholly given up to pride of station; on October 15th, 412, he closed his episcopate of twenty-seven years; a melancholy instance of great powers rendered baneful to the Church by a worldly spirit and a violent temper. He was succeeded by his nephew Cyril. The evil of his uncle's example hung about him for some time, obscuring the nobleness which was to shine out afterwards. He desired above all things the ascendancy of the Church; as to the means of obtaining [Pg 419] which, he had fewer scruples than became a minister of Him who rebuked the attack on Malchus. He closed the Novatian church, took away its sacred ornaments, and deprived its Bishop of his property. The Jews of Alexandria—a powerful body during many centuries—had procured the disgrace and punishment of Hierax, an admirer of Cyril's sermons. Cyril, naturally indignant, menaced the chief of their community; the Jews' revenge was to raise a cry at midnight, "The Church of S. Alexander is on fire!" and to massacre those Christians who rushed out to save their church. Cyril appears to have made up his mind that the Christians must right them, without expecting justice from the præfect Orestes, and he organized at daybreak a force which attacked the synagogues, expelled the Jews from Alexandria, and treated their property as rightful spoil. Orestes, exasperated at this hasty and lawless vengeance, would not listen to the explanations which Cyril offered; and the archbishop, after vainly holding out the Gospels to enforce his attempts at a reconciliation, gave up all hopes of peace. Five hundred monks of Nitria, inflamed by a furious partisanship, entered the city and reviled the præfect as a pagan. "I am a Christian," he exclaimed; "Atticus of Constantinople baptized me." A monk named Ammonius disproved his own Christianity by throwing a stone at the præfect, which inflicted a ghastly wound. He was seized, and expired under tortures; but Cyril so miserably forgot himself as to call this ruffian an "admirable" martyr, a proceeding of which he was afterwards heartily ashamed. Then followed a darker tragedy. Hypatia, a learned lady, and teacher of philosophy, and a heathen, who had great influence in the city in opposing Christianity, was supposed to have embittered Orestes against Cyril; and some fiery zealots, headed by a reader of the church, named Peter, dragged [Pg 420] her from her house and tore her to pieces, limb from limb. Cyril was no party to this hideous deed,[128] but it was the work of men whose passions he had originally called out. Had there been no onslaught on the synagogues, there would have been no murder of Hypatia. The people of Alexandria were singularly fiery and given to civil contensions. Gibbon says of them, "The most trifling occasion, a transient scarcity of flesh or lentils, the neglect of an accustomed salutation, a mistake of precedency in the public baths, or even a religious dispute, were at any time sufficient to kindle a sedition among that vast multitude, whose resentments were furious and implacable."[129] A ferocious civil war which lasted twelve years, and raged within the city, till a considerable portion had been reduced to ruins in the reign of Valerian, had originated in a dispute between a soldier and a townsman about a pair of shoes.

This prominent defender of the faith has been criticized by modern writers as passionate and intolerant; it's true that he made several mistakes while leading his patriarchate, and his impulsiveness led to serious injustices. But we should remember that no person, even the greatest saints, is without flaws, and the greatest saints are those who, despite significant natural shortcomings, have overcome them through their faith and self-discipline. Saint Cyril started his patriarchate under challenging circumstances. He was the nephew of Theophilus, patriarch of Alexandria, who was Chrysostom's fiercest adversary, a man lacking principles and consumed by pride; on October 15, 412, he ended his twenty-seven-year episcopate—a sad example of great abilities twisted by a worldly mindset and a violent temper. He was succeeded by his nephew Cyril. The negative influence of his uncle hung over him for a while, clouding the greatness that would later emerge. He desired above all the supremacy of the Church; as for the means to achieve that, he had fewer qualms than would be expected from a minister of Him who rebuked the attack on Malchus. He shut down the Novatian church, seized its sacred items, and stripped its Bishop of his assets. The Jews of Alexandria—a powerful community for many centuries—had caused the disgrace and punishment of Hierax, a supporter of Cyril’s sermons. Naturally outraged, Cyril threatened their community leader; the Jews retaliated by shouting at midnight, "The Church of St. Alexander is on fire!" and massacring the Christians who rushed out to protect their church. It seems Cyril decided that the Christians needed to take action themselves, not waiting for justice from the prefect Orestes, and he organized a group to strike at daybreak, attacking the synagogues, expelling the Jews from Alexandria, and seizing their property as spoils. Orestes, furious at this rash and unlawful retaliation, refused to consider the explanations Cyril provided; and after fruitlessly trying to use the Gospels to mediate peace, Cyril lost all hope for reconciliation. Five hundred monks from Nitria, driven by intense partisanship, entered the city and insulted the prefect as a pagan. "I am a Christian," he shouted, "Atticus of Constantinople baptized me." A monk named Ammonius tarnished his own Christianity by throwing a stone at the prefect, causing a terrible injury. He was captured and died under torture; however, Cyril shamefully referred to this thug as an "admirable" martyr, an act he later deeply regretted. Then came an even darker tragedy. Hypatia, a learned woman and philosophy teacher, a non-Christian who held significant sway in the city against Christianity, was believed to have turned Orestes against Cyril; and some zealous individuals, led by a church reader named Peter, dragged her from her home and brutally dismembered her. Cyril was not complicit in this horrific act, but it was carried out by men whom he had initially inspired to anger. If there had been no attack on the synagogues, there would have been no murder of Hypatia. The people of Alexandria were notably fiery and prone to civil strife. Gibbon remarked about them, "The slightest provocation—a brief shortage of meat or lentils, a missed greeting, a breach of etiquette in the public baths, or even a religious disagreement—could ignite a riot among that vast crowd, whose anger was fierce and relentless." A brutal civil war that lasted twelve years erupted within the city, leaving much of it in ruins during the reign of Valerian, originating from a dispute between a soldier and a townsman over a pair of shoes.

Cyril had inherited all his uncle's violent prejudice against S. John Chrysostom. Pope Innocent had not been able to procure the vindication of his memory at Constantinople. But soon after his death, Atticus his successor, a good man, but weak and timid, and a declared enemy to Chrysostom, who had resisted the Pope's exhortation, yielded to the popular feeling, and to the advice of the Emperor Theodosius, who thought that "for peace and unity there would be no harm in writing a dead man's name on a diptych," i.e., on the table of names of the departed prayed for at the Mass. Atticus excused himself for this compliance in a letter to Cyril, in which he observed that, in these Eucharistic commemorations, laymen as well as bishops were included. The nephew of Theophilus was not likely to be thus appeased; and he extracted from the messengers of [Pg 421] Atticus the confession that Chrysostom was now commemorated as a Bishop. In his view, Chrysostom was simply a man who had forfeited the episcopate; and he called upon Atticus to "expunge from the sacerdotal catalogue the name of one who was no minister," distinctly intimating that unless he resolved to uphold the authority of the Council of the Oak,[130] he would forfeit the communion of the patriarchate of Alexandria.

Cyril had inherited all his uncle's intense bias against St. John Chrysostom. Pope Innocent had not been able to secure the restoration of his reputation in Constantinople. But shortly after his death, Atticus, his successor—who was a good man but weak, timid, and openly opposed to Chrysostom—gave in to public sentiment and the advice of Emperor Theodosius. The emperor believed that "for peace and unity, there would be no harm in adding a deceased person's name to a diptych," meaning the list of names of the departed prayed for during the Mass. Atticus justified this decision in a letter to Cyril, noting that these Eucharistic commemorations included both laypeople and bishops. The nephew of Theophilus was not likely to be appeased by this, though; he got the messengers from Atticus to admit that Chrysostom was now being honored as a Bishop. In his eyes, Chrysostom was merely someone who had lost his position as bishop, and he urged Atticus to "remove from the sacerdotal list the name of someone who was no longer a minister." He clearly indicated that unless Atticus chose to uphold the authority of the Council of the Oak,[130] he would lose the communion of the patriarchate of Alexandria.

But as time passed, Cyril thought better of this, and regretted his violence and prejudice. Isidore of Pelusium, a pious abbot, wrote to him, "Put an end to these dissensions, lest you incur the judgment of God," and urged him not to make a perpetual schism in the Church by refusing to commemorate Chrysostom. He placed the name of Chrysostom on his diptychs, and immediately was received into communion with Rome from which he had been estranged by his adherence to the prejudices of his uncle.

But as time went on, Cyril reconsidered his actions and felt remorse for his violence and bias. Isidore of Pelusium, a devout abbot, wrote to him, "End these disputes, or you’ll face God’s judgment," and urged him not to create a lasting split in the Church by refusing to honor Chrysostom. He added Chrysostom's name to his diptychs, and was quickly welcomed back into communion with Rome, from which he had been separated due to his uncle's biases.

Atticus, patriarch of Constantinople, was succeeded in 426, by Sisinius, who died on Christmas Eve, 427. Nestorius, a Syrian bred in Antioch, of high reputation and great powers as a speaker, ascetic and studious in his habits, was consecrated to the see on April 10th, 428. His first sermon indicated a feverish polemical zeal. "Give me," he exclaimed, addressing the Emperor, "give me the earth clear of heretics, and I will give you heaven in return! Help me to overthrow the heretics, and I will help you to overthrow the Persians." He began his episcopate by attacking an Arian meeting-house; the Arians set fire to it in their despair; the flames caught other buildings, and the new patriarch received the ominous name of "the Incendiary." The early violence of Cyril ought neither to be extenuated nor exaggerated; but there was somewhat less of provocation [Pg 422] for the persecuting zeal of Nestorius. Shortly before Christmas, 428, a priest named Anastasius, whom the new archbishop had brought from Antioch, was preaching in S. Sophia. In the sermon he said, "Let no one call Mary the Mother of God; for she was a human creature, of whom God could not be born." Nestorius was present and approved; and on Christmas Day he himself began a short course of sermons, in which he called the title heathenish, and spoke of Mary's Son as a mere man, the instrument employed, and the vesture worn by God. Eusebius, a lawyer in the city, stood up in full church, and proclaimed that the Eternal Word Himself was born after the flesh. Nestorius denounced this doctrine; "It was not the Word that was born," said he; "It was only the man Jesus."

Atticus, the leader of Constantinople, was succeeded in 426 by Sisinius, who died on Christmas Eve in 427. Nestorius, a Syrian raised in Antioch, known for his strong reputation and impressive speaking abilities, dedicated and studious, was appointed to the position on April 10, 428. His first sermon showed a passionate argumentative zeal. "Give me," he shouted to the Emperor, "give me the earth free of heretics, and I will give you heaven in return! Help me to defeat the heretics, and I will help you defeat the Persians." He started his time as bishop by attacking an Arian meeting-house, which the Arians set on fire out of desperation; the flames spread to other buildings, earning the new patriarch the ominous nickname "the Incendiary." The early violence of Cyril should neither be downplayed nor exaggerated; however, Nestorius had somewhat less reason for his intense zeal against persecution. Shortly before Christmas in 428, a priest named Anastasius, whom the new archbishop had brought from Antioch, was preaching in S. Sophia. During the sermon, he said, "Let no one call Mary the Mother of God; for she was just a human being, and God could not be born from her." Nestorius was present and agreed; and on Christmas Day, he began a short series of sermons, dismissing the title as pagan and referring to Mary's Son as merely a man, the tool used by God, and the garment He wore. Eusebius, a lawyer in the city, stood up in the packed church and declared that the Eternal Word Himself was born in the flesh. Nestorius condemned this view, saying, "It was not the Word that was born; it was only the man Jesus."

Soon after, on a festival in honour of the Virgin, probably the Annunciation, a certain Bishop Proclus preached in the great church before Nestorius. After speaking of S. Mary in glowing language, as the bush burning and unconsumed, the cloud that bore the cherub-throne, Gideon's fleece filled with heavenly dew, he passed to the practical bearings of the Catholic doctrine. "If the Word had not dwelt in the womb, Flesh had never sat down on the holy throne. It was necessary, either that the doom of death should be executed on all, for all have sinned, or that such a price should be paid in exchange as could fully claim the release. Man could not save, for he was under the pressure of the debt of sin. An angel could not redeem humanity, for he had lacked such a ransom as was needed. One only course remained, that the sinless God should die for sinners. It was God who out of His compassion became Man. We do not proclaim a man deified, but we confess a God Incarnate. The Self-same was in the Father's bosom, and in the Virgin's womb; in a mother's arms, and on the wings of the wind. He was adored by angels, while He sat at meat with publicans. [Pg 423] The servant buffeted Him, and creation shuddered. He was laid in the tomb, and he spread out the heavens as a curtain. O the mystery! I see the miracles, and I proclaim the Godhead; I see the sufferings and I declare the Manhood." Nestorius rose from his throne and rebuked the preacher. He said that to speak of God as virgin-born was erroneous, and in after sermons he argued that God who "held the circle of the earth" could not be wrapt in grave-clothes; that the Sustainer of all things could not rise from the dead. Christ, he said, was a sinless man, the image of the Godhead through His goodness; and that as a child was of the same nature as its mother, therefore that Christ could not be divine as Mary was not divine. He allowed to Christ a divinity, but not the divinity, placing Him rather as chiefest of saints than as God. It was Arianism under another form.

Soon after, during a festival celebrating the Virgin, probably the Annunciation, a certain Bishop Proclus preached in the great church before Nestorius. After praising St. Mary with vivid descriptions, like the burning bush that wasn't consumed, the cloud that carried the cherub-throne, and Gideon's fleece filled with heavenly dew, he moved to the practical implications of Catholic doctrine. “If the Word had not taken residence in the womb, the Flesh would never have sat on the holy throne. It was necessary that either the sentence of death be carried out on all, since all have sinned, or that a sufficient price be paid to secure their release. Humanity could not save itself, being burdened by the debt of sin. An angel could not redeem mankind, for he lacked the ransom required. The only path left was for the sinless God to die for sinners. It was God, in His compassion, who became Man. We do not declare a man who was deified; we confess a God who took on human form. The same one was in the Father’s embrace and in the Virgin’s womb; in a mother’s arms and on the wings of the wind. He was worshipped by angels while dining with sinners. [Pg 423] The servant struck Him, and creation trembled. He was laid in a tomb, and He spread out the heavens like a curtain. Oh the mystery! I witness the miracles, and I proclaim the divinity; I see the sufferings and I affirm the humanity.” Nestorius rose from his throne and criticized the preacher. He argued that to refer to God as virgin-born was incorrect, and in later sermons he contended that God who “holds the circle of the earth” could not be wrapped in grave-clothes; that the Sustainer of all could not rise from the dead. Christ, he asserted, was a sinless man, the image of the divine through His goodness; and since a child shares the same nature as its mother, he concluded that Christ could not be divine, just as Mary was not divine. He conceded a degree of divinity to Christ, but not the full divinity, positioning Him more as the greatest of saints than as God. This was Arianism in another guise.

His sermons caused a great excitement at home as well as abroad. Men saw that the question was no strife of words; laymen who felt that Catholic truth was their inheritance, no less than that of the clergy, shrank from the communion of a bishop who made void the Incarnation. Clergy began to preach against him, "They are croaking frogs," said Nestorius, and he obtained an imperial order to silence them. A priest began to celebrate in private, an abbot and a monk told Nestorius to his face that he was in error, and were savagely beaten and imprisoned for so doing. A monk who dared to denounce him as a heretic was scourged and exiled. Among his supporters a bishop named Dorotheus was the chief. When he preached his heresy, the congregation uttering a cry of indignation, rushed out of church, but Nestorius proceeded with the service, and administered Communion to the preacher.

His sermons created a huge stir both at home and abroad. People realized that the issue wasn't just a debate; laypeople who believed that Catholic truth was their right, just like the clergy, refused to take communion from a bishop who denied the Incarnation. Clergy started preaching against him, and Nestorius called them "croaking frogs," managing to get an imperial order to silence them. A priest began to celebrate mass in secret, while an abbot and a monk confronted Nestorius directly, telling him he was wrong, only to be brutally beaten and imprisoned for it. A monk who dared to call him a heretic was whipped and exiled. Among his supporters, a bishop named Dorotheus was the main one. When he preached his heresy, the congregation shouted in outrage and stormed out of the church, but Nestorius continued with the service and gave Communion to the preacher.

The careful circulation of the archbishop's sermons brought them into the hands of the Egyptian monks. Cyril strove to [Pg 424] undo their effect by a letter addressed to the monks, about the end of April, 429. They would have done better, he said, by abstaining from the controversy; but it was necessary as things stood, to impress on them the positive truth. Since Christ was Emmanuel, since He who was in the form of God assumed the form of a servant, since the Son of Man was adorable, since the Lord of glory was crucified, it was impossible to divide the persons, and separate the manhood from the Godhead. To sum up all in one simple formula; "If our Lord Jesus Christ is God, how can His Mother, the holy Virgin, be not Mother of God?" He guarded himself from misrepresentation by clearly confessing that it was from Mary that Christ derived His human nature, but that it was not from her that He derived His divine nature. He was God, from her He received His humanity, but to her He was not indebted for His Godhead.

The careful distribution of the archbishop's sermons got them into the hands of the Egyptian monks. Cyril tried to counteract their impact with a letter to the monks around the end of April, 429. He suggested they would have been better off avoiding the controversy, but given the circumstances, it was essential to convey the truth. Since Christ was Emmanuel, and since He who was in the form of God took on the form of a servant, and since the Son of Man was worthy of worship, and the Lord of glory was crucified, it was impossible to separate the persons and distinguish manhood from Godhead. To sum it all up in one simple statement: "If our Lord Jesus Christ is God, how can His Mother, the holy Virgin, be not the Mother of God?" He made it clear to avoid misinterpretation that Christ received His human nature from Mary, but His divine nature did not come from her. He was God; He received His humanity from her, but He was not dependent on her for His Godhead.

About Midsummer he wrote his first letter to Nestorius, urging him not to produce scandal and a schism by asserting that God dwelt in Christ instead of proclaiming the Catholic doctrine that Christ was God. In February, 430, S. Cyril wrote his second letter to Nestorius—the great Epistle which received in subsequent councils a formal sanction from the Church. He set forth his faith in the clearest terms, insisting on a real, not a merely moral union of God and Man in Christ. Nestorius replied, showing a strange confusion of mind in the matter, which contrasts painfully with the bright, crisp, and lucid style of Cyril. He was ready to allow that Christ was an association of God with the man, Jesus; but he would not admit that God and man made one Christ.

Around Midsummer, he wrote his first letter to Nestorius, urging him not to create scandal and a split by claiming that God lived in Christ instead of promoting the Catholic belief that Christ was God. In February 430, St. Cyril wrote his second letter to Nestorius—this important Epistle later received formal approval from the Church at subsequent councils. He clearly expressed his faith, insisting on a real, not just a moral, union of God and Man in Christ. Nestorius responded, revealing a strange confusion of thought on the issue, which stands in sharp contrast to Cyril's bright, clear, and straightforward style. He was open to the idea that Christ was a partnership of God with the man, Jesus, but he refused to acknowledge that God and man together formed one Christ.

Now it was that Cyril shone as a bright star in the firmament of the Church, proved a pillar in the house of God, sustaining the truth. For this God had raised him up, to maintain in the face of heresy, the Unity of the Person in our Blessed Lord. What S. Athanasius had done for the Church when assailed by Arianism, Cyril was called to perform when she was beaten by Nestorianism. "I care not for distress, or insult, or bitterest revilings," said he in a letter to his clergy, "Only let the faith be kept safe."

Now Cyril stood out like a bright star in the Church, proving himself to be a strong support in the house of God, upholding the truth. God had raised him up to defend the unity of the Person in our Blessed Lord against heresy. Just as S. Athanasius had supported the Church during the attacks of Arianism, Cyril was called to do the same when it was challenged by Nestorianism. "I don’t care about distress, insults, or harsh criticism," he said in a letter to his clergy, "Just let the faith be protected."

S. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA.

Early in August a council met at Rome. Pope Celestine quoted a stanza from the Christmas hymn of S. Ambrose:—

Early in August, a council gathered in Rome. Pope Celestine quoted a line from the Christmas hymn by St. Ambrose:—

"Redeemer of Earth's lost tribes." Come, reveal Yourself, the Virgin-born; Let every generation welcome the wonder— "God shouldn't have a common birth."

"Thus," he added, "Our brother Cyril's meaning, when he calls Mary, the mother of God, entirely agrees with Talis decet partus Deum." He cited S. Hilary and S. Damasus as teaching the same doctrine of One Christ; and the council pronounced Nestorius guilty of heresy. On August 11th, he wrote to Cyril, accepting his doctrinal statements, and giving him an important commission. "Join the authority of our see to your own, and freely occupying our place, execute this sentence with strictness and rigour; so that, unless in ten days time from this monition, he condemns in writing his unholy doctrine, and assures us that he holds that faith concerning the birth of Christ our God, which is held by the Roman Church, and by your Holiness' Church, and by all who belong to our religion, your Holiness may provide for his Church, and let him know that he must needs be cut off from our body."

"Therefore," he added, "Our brother Cyril's message, when he refers to Mary as the mother of God, completely aligns with Talis decet partus Deum." He mentioned S. Hilary and S. Damasus as supporting the same belief in One Christ; and the council declared Nestorius guilty of heresy. On August 11th, he wrote to Cyril, agreeing with his doctrinal statements and giving him an important task. "Combine the authority of our see with your own, and fully taking our place, carry out this decision strictly and rigorously; so that, unless within ten days from this notice, he denies in writing his unholy doctrine and confirms that he believes in the faith about the birth of Christ our God, which is held by the Roman Church, by your Holiness' Church, and by all who belong to our faith, your Holiness may make arrangements for his Church, and let him know that he must be cut off from our community."

On the 19th of November, the emperor Theodosius, at the request of Nestorius and his opponents, summoned a general council to meet at Ephesus at the ensuing Pentecost. Besides the circular letter, Cyril received a private one, angry in tone, from the emperor, asking, "Why have you despised us, and raised all this agitation, as if a rash impetuosity were more befitting than accurate inquiry, or [Pg 426] audacity and versatility more pleasing to us than good taste and simple dealing." In a council held at Alexandria, Nestorius was declared heretical, and was excommunicated.

On November 19th, Emperor Theodosius, at the request of Nestorius and his opponents, called a general council to gather in Ephesus at the upcoming Pentecost. Along with the circular letter, Cyril received a private letter from the emperor that was angry in tone, asking, "Why have you disrespected us and stirred up all this trouble, as if rash impulsiveness is better than careful examination, or boldness and adaptability are more appealing to us than good taste and straightforwardness?" In a council held in Alexandria, Nestorius was declared heretical and excommunicated.

On Sunday, December 7th, four bishops entered the cathedral of Constantinople, during the time of service, and presented to Nestorius the letters of Celestine and Cyril excommunicating him.

On Sunday, December 7th, four bishops walked into the cathedral of Constantinople during the service and handed Nestorius the letters from Celestine and Cyril that excommunicated him.

About four or five days before Whit-sunday, which in 431, fell on June 7th, Cyril reached Ephesus, accompanied by fifty bishops, and found that Nestorius had arrived with sixteen before him. The Roman legates, Arcadius and Projectus, bishops, with Philip, a priest, were on their way. Pope Celestine had already expressed to Cyril his opinion, that if Nestorius were minded to repent, he should by all means be received, notwithstanding the sentence already pronounced by Rome and Alexandria. The bishops of the patriarchate of Antioch had not yet arrived. The church of Africa devastated by the Vandals could send no prelate; but Capreolus of Carthage wrote, entreating the bishops to maintain the ancient doctrine.

About four or five days before Whit Sunday, which in 431 fell on June 7th, Cyril arrived in Ephesus with fifty bishops and found that Nestorius had already come with sixteen bishops. The Roman legates, Arcadius and Projectus, along with a priest named Philip, were on their way. Pope Celestine had already told Cyril that if Nestorius wanted to repent, he should definitely be welcomed, despite the sentence already passed by Rome and Alexandria. The bishops from the patriarchate of Antioch had not yet shown up. The church in Africa, devastated by the Vandals, couldn't send any bishops; however, Capreolus of Carthage wrote, urging the bishops to uphold the traditional doctrine.

Hostilities were, in one sense, commenced between the parties before the opening of the council. Memnon, bishop of Ephesus, excluded the Nestorians from the churches, so that they had no place wherein to celebrate Pentecost, or to say matins and vespers.

Hostilities began, in a way, between the parties before the council even started. Memnon, the bishop of Ephesus, barred the Nestorians from the churches, leaving them without a place to celebrate Pentecost or hold morning and evening prayers.

Acacius, bishop of Melitene, endeavoured to convert Nestorius. A bishop of the Nestorian party said to him, "The Son who suffered is one, God the Word is another." Acacius withdrew in horror; but another saying that fell from Nestorius impressed itself yet more indelibly upon every Catholic heart. On June 19th, some prelates were arguing with him on the divinity of Jesus. "For my part," said he, several times over, "I cannot say that a child of two or three months old was God." Thus he declared his [Pg 427] disbelief in the foundation doctrine of Christianity.

Acacius, the bishop of Melitene, tried to convert Nestorius. A bishop from the Nestorian faction told him, "The Son who suffered is one, and God the Word is another." Acacius was horrified and withdrew; however, another statement from Nestorius left an even deeper mark on the hearts of all Catholics. On June 19th, some bishops were debating with him about the divinity of Jesus. "For my part," he said repeatedly, "I can’t say that a child of two or three months old was God." This way, he expressed his disbelief in the foundational doctrine of Christianity.

On Sunday, June 21st, a fortnight had elapsed from the time fixed for the meeting of the council. The Bishops were weary of waiting; illness and even death, had appeared among them; and John, patriarch of Antioch had not arrived. The majority therefore sent a message to Nestorius, telling him that the council should begin, next day. On Monday, June 22nd, when 198 Bishops assembled in S. Mary's Church, he personally remonstrated against the council being opened till the Bishops of the patriarchate of Antioch had arrived. It was in vain; Cyril and the majority absolutely refused to delay. On the episcopal throne, in the centre of the assembly, were laid the Gospels; the Bishops sat on each side; Cyril, as highest in rank, and as holding the proxy of Cœlestine, until the arrival of the Roman legates, presided in the assembly. It would have been better if some other bishop had discharged this office; but it appears that Cyril's part in the proceedings was mainly that of a producer of evidence, and that he called on the council to judge between himself and Nestorius. A second citation was then directed to Nestorius; but soldiers with clubs denied the deputies access to his presence, and he sent out word that he would attend when all the bishops had reached the city.

On Sunday, June 21st, two weeks had passed since the set date for the council meeting. The Bishops were tired of waiting; some were unwell, and even a few had died; and John, the patriarch of Antioch, still hadn't shown up. So, the majority sent a message to Nestorius, stating that the council should start the next day. On Monday, June 22nd, when 198 Bishops gathered at S. Mary's Church, Nestorius personally objected to opening the council until the Bishops from the patriarchate of Antioch arrived. It was pointless; Cyril and most of the others refused to postpone. The Gospels were laid on the episcopal throne in the center of the assembly, with the Bishops sitting on either side. Cyril, being the highest in rank and acting as the representative of Cœlestine until the Roman envoys arrived, presided over the meeting. It might have been better for another bishop to take on this role; however, it seems that Cyril's main job in the proceedings was to present evidence and ask the council to judge between him and Nestorius. A second summons was issued to Nestorius, but soldiers with clubs blocked the delegates from reaching him, and he sent word that he would come when all the bishops had arrived in the city.

A third message was then dispatched to him; care being taken to treat him simply as an accused bishop, not as a condemned heretic. Again the rude sentinels thrust back the deputies. "If you stand here all night, you will get no satisfaction; Nestorius has ordered that no one from your council shall enter." They returned to S. Mary's. "Nestorius," said the Bishop of Jerusalem, "shows a bad conscience. Let us now proceed to compare all recent statements with the creed of Nicæa."

A third message was sent to him, making sure to refer to him simply as an accused bishop, not as a condemned heretic. Once again, the rough guards pushed the delegates back. "If you stay here all night, you won’t get anywhere; Nestorius has ordered that nobody from your council can come in." They went back to S. Mary's. "Nestorius," said the Bishop of Jerusalem, "is clearly feeling guilty. Let's compare all the recent statements with the Nicene Creed now."

When the great confession had been read, then the second [Pg 428] letter of Cyril to Nestorius, and extracts from the sermons of the accused, the fathers proceeded to depose and excommunicate Nestorius, in the name of "our Lord Jesus Christ whom he has blasphemed." The sentence was signed by all the bishops; the first signature being, "I, Cyril, Bishop of Alexandria, subscribed to the judgment of the council." It was now late in the summer evening. The bishops, on issuing from the church, were welcomed with loud applause by the people, who had thronged the streets all day. Torches and perfumes were burnt before them, as they proceeded to their several abodes; and thus ended the memorable first session of the council of Ephesus. It is interesting to think that while the bishops were going home that night, after a day of intense excitement, Paulinus of Nola was calmly giving up his soul. His last words, breathed forth in a low chant at the hour of vespers, were those of Psalm cxxxi. 17, (cxxxii.) Paravi lucernam Christo meo. "I have prepared a lamp for my Christ."

When the great confession had been read, then the second [Pg 428] letter of Cyril to Nestorius, and excerpts from the sermons of the accused, the bishops moved to remove and excommunicate Nestorius, in the name of "our Lord Jesus Christ whom he has blasphemed." The verdict was signed by all the bishops; the first signature being, "I, Cyril, Bishop of Alexandria, agree with the council's decision." It was now late on a summer evening. The bishops, upon leaving the church, were greeted with loud applause by the crowd, who had gathered in the streets all day. Torches and incense were lit before them as they made their way to their respective homes; and thus ended the memorable first session of the council of Ephesus. It's interesting to think that while the bishops were heading home that night, after a day of intense excitement, Paulinus of Nola was peacefully leaving this world. His last words, softly sung at the hour of evening prayers, were from Psalm 131:17 (132). Paravi lucernam Christo meo. "I have prepared a lamp for my Christ."

On Saturday, June 27th, John of Antioch arrived with fifteen Bishops. The council sent deputies to his lodging: he consented to see them, but permitted Count Irenæus, a friend of Nestorius, to beat them cruelly. Dusty and travel-stained as he was, John proceeded to assemble a conclave of the partisans of Nestorius, numbering forty-three Bishops, and deposed Cyril of Alexandria, and Memnon of Ephesus.

On Saturday, June 27th, John of Antioch arrived with fifteen Bishops. The council sent representatives to his place; he agreed to meet them but allowed Count Irenæus, a friend of Nestorius, to treat them harshly. Despite being dusty and worn from travel, John went ahead with gathering a meeting of Nestorius's supporters, which included forty-three Bishops, and removed Cyril of Alexandria and Memnon of Ephesus from their positions.

Theodosius, the emperor, prejudiced in favour of Nestorius, and thinking, perhaps not without reason, that the prelates of Antioch should have been awaited before the opening of the council, wrote on June 29th, in severe terms, ordering that no bishop should leave Ephesus until the doctrinal question had been fairly scrutinized, and declaring the proceedings null.

Theodosius, the emperor, biased in favor of Nestorius, and thinking, perhaps not without justification, that the leaders of Antioch should have been waited for before the council started, wrote on June 29th in harsh terms, ordering that no bishop should leave Ephesus until the doctrinal issue had been properly examined, and declaring the proceedings invalid.

And now the Roman legates arrived, and the second [Pg 429] session was held in Memnon's house, July 10th. Celestine's letter to the council, dated May 8, expressed full confidence that the council would join with the legates in executing what Rome had already decided was good. The bishops answered by applause, "One Cœlestine, one Cyril, one faith of the council, one faith of the world!"

And now the Roman envoys arrived, and the second [Pg 429] session took place in Memnon's house on July 10th. Celestine's letter to the council, dated May 8, expressed complete confidence that the council would partner with the envoys in carrying out what Rome had already determined was right. The bishops responded with applause, "One Cœlestine, one Cyril, one faith of the council, one faith of the world!"

Next day, in the third session, the council wrote to the emperor that the whole Church was against Nestorius; and in a fourth session John, patriarch of Antioch, who supported the heretic, was deposed and excommunicated. The emperor then sent his high-treasurer, Count John, to compose the differences in a summary manner. On his arrival he at once arrested Cyril, Memnon, and Nestorius, and soldiers were stationed at the doors of their bed-rooms, to keep them close prisoners.

The next day, during the third session, the council informed the emperor that the entire Church was opposed to Nestorius. In a fourth session, John, the patriarch of Antioch, who backed the heretic, was removed from his position and excommunicated. The emperor then dispatched his high treasurer, Count John, to quickly resolve the issues. Upon his arrival, he immediately arrested Cyril, Memnon, and Nestorius, and had soldiers posted at the doors of their bedrooms to keep them in close confinement.

The bishops of the council, in a letter to the clergy of Constantinople, described the distress which they were enduring. "We are killed with the heat, the air is unhealthy, there is a funeral nearly every day, the servants are all gone home sick; but if they make us die here, we will not alter what Christ has through us ordained." Many of the bishops were very ill; some had been obliged to sell all that they had, in order to pay their expenses. Cyril wrote also, but there was a difficulty in getting these letters carried to their destination. The Nestorians of Constantinople beset the ships and the roads, and would allow no ordinary messenger to enter the city. It was determined to give them into the care of a beggar, who might carry them in the hollow of a cane on which he leant. This ingenious device succeeded. The clergy of Constantinople received the sentence of deposition pronounced on their patriarch, and the letters of Cyril and the council. The clergy openly addressed the emperor on behalf of Cyril. There was a great stir among the monks, who were for the most part [Pg 430] determined enemies of Nestorianism. The aged abbot Dalmatius had not left his monastery for nearly fifty years. The emperor had vainly striven to make him take a part in the processional services during earthquakes. But now he felt, as he expressed it, that in a cause which so truly belonged to God he could not be inactive. He issued forth, at the head of a solemn train of monks and abbots, chanting in two choirs, which moved towards the palace; the abbots were at once admitted to the presence of Theodosius, and he having read the letter of the council, said, "If these things are so, let the Bishops come hither." "They are prevented," said Dalmatius. "No they are not," said the emperor. "They are under arrest," persisted the abbot. The conference ended to the satisfaction of the abbots; they came forth, and directed the multitude without to proceed to a large church at the extremity of the city. Again the procession swept onwards; monks, bearing wax tapers, led the psalmody, without which in those days no great religious movement was conceivable; and the inspiring, "O praise God in His holiness," was thundered forth as they approached their destination. The church was thronged with eager listeners; Dalmatius caused the letter of the council to be read, and then described the interview with Theodosius. Dalmatius might well write to the council, "I have not neglected your wishes." His interposition was a great event; he had proved too many for the Nestorians. By his simple devotion and impressive firmness, the old recluse had given force and unity to a great mass of public feeling, and broken the spell by which a party had bound the emperor.

The bishops of the council, in a letter to the clergy of Constantinople, described the struggles they were facing. "We are dying from the heat, the air is unhealthy, there’s a funeral almost every day, and the servants have all gone home sick; but even if we die here, we won’t change what Christ has ordained through us." Many of the bishops were quite ill; some had to sell everything they owned to cover their expenses. Cyril also wrote, but there was a challenge in getting these letters delivered. The Nestorians of Constantinople surrounded the ships and the roads, and wouldn’t let any regular messenger enter the city. They decided to entrust the letters to a beggar, who could carry them in a hollow cane he leaned on. This clever plan worked. The clergy of Constantinople got the deposition sentence against their patriarch and Cyril’s letters from the council. The clergy openly appealed to the emperor on behalf of Cyril. There was a lot of commotion among the monks, who were mostly determined opponents of Nestorianism. The aged abbot Dalmatius hadn’t left his monastery in almost fifty years. The emperor had unsuccessfully tried to involve him in processional services during earthquakes. But now he felt, as he put it, that in a cause that truly belonged to God, he couldn’t stay inactive. He stepped out, leading a solemn group of monks and abbots, chanting in two choirs, moving toward the palace; the abbots were immediately allowed to see Theodosius, who, after reading the council’s letter, said, "If these things are true, let the Bishops come here." "They are prevented," Dalmatius replied. "No, they’re not," the emperor insisted. "They are under arrest," the abbot persisted. The conference ended with the abbots satisfied; they emerged and instructed the crowd outside to proceed to a large church at the edge of the city. Again, the procession moved forward; monks carrying wax candles led the hymns, which were essential for any significant religious movement at that time; they loudly sang, "O praise God in His holiness," as they neared their destination. The church was packed with eager listeners; Dalmatius had the council’s letter read, and then recounted the meeting with Theodosius. Dalmatius could confidently write to the council, "I have not neglected your wishes." His intervention was a major event; he had outnumbered the Nestorians. Through his simple devotion and strong resolve, the old recluse had brought energy and unity to a large wave of public sentiment, breaking the influence that a faction had over the emperor.

It is unnecessary to follow the tangled threads of party strife much further. Theodosius confirmed the decree of the council, and on Sunday, Oct. 25th, 431, a new patriarch was consecrated to fill the room of Nestorius. John of Antioch [Pg 431] had been led astray by party feeling, and in faith he had not been really heretical; his mind like that of other supporters of Nestorius was bewildered, and fearing lest Cyril should fall in the opposite error, that of Apollinaris, which lost one nature in the other, making of Christ but one nature, he had adopted the side of Nestorius. Now he was reconciled to Cyril, who gladly met him halfway, and by mutual explanation blew away the dust of strife, and found that their faith was identical. John sent Paul, Bishop of Emesa, to Alexandria with this confession, "We confess our Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, to be perfect God and perfect Man, of a reasonable soul and a body; before the ages begotten of the Father according to His Godhead, but for us and for our salvation, in the latter days, born of the Virgin Mary according to His Manhood; of one essence with the Father as to Godhead, of one essence with us as to Manhood. For there took place an union of two natures; wherefore we confess one Christ, one Son, one Lord. According to this notion of the union without confusion, we confess Holy Mary to be Mother of God, because God the Word was incarnate and made man, and from His very conception united to Himself the temple taken from her."

It's unnecessary to delve further into the complicated issues of party rivalry. Theodosius approved the council's decree, and on Sunday, October 25th, 431, a new patriarch was consecrated to replace Nestorius. John of Antioch had been swayed by party sentiment, and while he wasn't truly heretical in his beliefs, his perspective, like others who supported Nestorius, was confused. He was worried that Cyril might fall into the opposite error of Apollinaris, which merged the two natures into one, reducing Christ to just one nature. As a result, he sided with Nestorius. However, he later reconciled with Cyril, who welcomed him in a spirit of compromise. Through mutual discussions, they cleared away the conflicts and realized their beliefs were the same. John sent Paul, Bishop of Emesa, to Alexandria with this confession: "We confess our Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, to be perfect God and perfect Man, with a rational soul and a body; before the ages, He was begotten of the Father in terms of His divinity, but for us and for our salvation, in the latter days, He was born of the Virgin Mary in terms of His humanity; of one essence with the Father in terms of divinity, and of one essence with us in terms of humanity. There was an union of two natures; therefore, we confess one Christ, one Son, one Lord. According to this understanding of the union without confusion, we confess Holy Mary to be the Mother of God because God the Word became incarnate and made man, and from the moment of His conception, He united to Himself the temple taken from her."

This formulary Cyril gladly accepted as orthodox, and then, and not till then, Paul of Emesa was permitted to attend the church service, and invited to preach, as a Catholic Bishop, on Christmas Day. The scene that ensued was a very striking one. He began with the angelic hymn, proceeded to Isaiah vii. 14, and then pronounced the momentous words, "Thus Mary, Mother of God, brings forth Emmanuel!" The church rang with joyful cries; "Lo, this is the faith! 'Tis God's gift, orthodox Cyril! This is what we wanted to hear!" Paul resumed, and presently enforced both sides of the great verity. "A combination of two perfect natures, I mean Godhead and [Pg 432] Manhood, constitutes for us the one Son, the one Christ, the one Lord." Again the people shouted applause; "Welcome, orthodox Bishop, the worthy to the worthy!"

This doctrine was gladly accepted by Cyril as orthodox, and only then was Paul of Emesa allowed to attend the church service and invited to preach as a Catholic Bishop on Christmas Day. The scene that followed was very striking. He started with the angelic hymn, moved on to Isaiah 7:14, and then declared the significant words, "Thus Mary, Mother of God, brings forth Emmanuel!" The church was filled with joyful exclamations; "Lo, this is the faith! It’s God's gift, orthodox Cyril! This is what we wanted to hear!" Paul continued, and shortly emphasized both aspects of this great truth. "A combination of two perfect natures, namely Godhead and Manhood, constitutes for us the one Son, the one Christ, the one Lord." Again the people cheered; "Welcome, orthodox Bishop, the worthy to the worthy!"

S. Cyril died in June, 444, after a pontificate of thirty-two years, during the last fifteen of which he may be said to have as truly lived for the truth of the unity of the two natures in Christ, as his mightiest predecessor, S. Athanasius, had lived for the truth of the Divinity of Christ. Doubtless, the fiery spirit, which Cyril could not always restrain, impelled him, during this great controversy, into some steps which show that he was not an Athanasius. But modern critics of his character have said more than enough on this point, and too little on points of a different kind. Historical justice can never demand that we should take the hardest possible view of his conduct at the opening of the council of Ephesus, and ignore the noble unselfishness, the patience in explaining over and over again his own statements, the readiness in welcoming substantial agreement on the part of others, in a word, the "power, and love, and command" which made him a true minister of peace in the reunion of 433. We need not dwell on other instances in which he showed a remarkable forbearance, as when he bore without irritation the schooling of S. Isidore; on his care for the due probation of aspirants to the priesthood, his depth and acuteness as a dogmatic theologian, his faith and thankfulness when treated as a deposed prisoner. The way not to understand him is to substitute a haughty and heartless dogmatist for the ardent, anxious, often the deeply suffering man, who, against an opponent strong in sophistry, in court influence, and in church power, persevered in defending the simple truth of the Scriptural and Nicene mystery, that "the one Lord Jesus Christ was very God of very God, who for us men and for our salvation came down from heaven, and was incarnate, and was made Man."[131]

S. Cyril died in June 444, after a pontificate of thirty-two years. During the last fifteen years, he truly dedicated himself to the truth of the unity of the two natures in Christ, just as his great predecessor, S. Athanasius, dedicated himself to the truth of the Divinity of Christ. Undoubtedly, his fiery spirit, which he sometimes struggled to control, led him to take actions during this significant controversy that revealed he was not quite an Athanasius. However, modern critics have focused too much on this aspect and not enough on other important points. Historical fairness doesn’t require us to take the harshest view of his actions at the beginning of the council of Ephesus while overlooking his noble selflessness, his patience in repeatedly clarifying his statements, and his eagerness to accept substantial agreements from others. These traits demonstrate the "power, love, and authority" that made him a genuine minister of peace during the reunion of 433. We shouldn’t overlook other moments where he showed remarkable restraint, such as when he accepted the criticism from S. Isidore without getting upset, his commitment to thoroughly vetting candidates for the priesthood, his insight and sharpness as a dogmatic theologian, and his faith and gratitude when he was treated as a deposed prisoner. The wrong way to interpret him is to replace the passionate, concerned, and often deeply troubled man with a proud and heartless dogmatist. This is a man who, against an opponent skilled in rhetoric, influential in court, and powerful in the church, remained resolute in defending the straightforward truth of the Scriptural and Nicene mystery that "the one Lord Jesus Christ was truly God of true God, who for us humans and for our salvation came down from heaven, was incarnate, and became Man."[131]

S. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA.

S. JAMES, THE PENITENT, H.

(6th cent.)

(6th century)

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa, but by the Gallo-Belgic Martyrology on Jan. 29th. Authority: a life written apparently not long after the death of S. James. There are so many saints, and even hermit saints of this name, that some confusion would have arisen but for the remarkable peculiarity of the life of this man.]

[Roman Martyrology and Greek Menæa, but referenced by the Gallo-Belgic Martyrology on Jan. 29th. Source: a biography written shortly after S. James's death. There are many saints, including hermit saints, with the same name, which could lead to confusion if it weren't for the distinctive features of this man's life.]

The story of this hermit is a painful and very sad one; it is that of a great fall and bitter repentance. As a warning to all those who are living lives near to God, to be not high-minded but fear, the Church has placed it in her sacred Kalendar, but not only as a lesson to such, but also as an encouragement to the poor wretch who has fallen, to look up, not to despair, for great as may be his sin, greater is the mercy of God.

The story of this hermit is a painful and very sad one; it’s about a great fall and deep regret. As a warning to everyone living close to God, not to become arrogant but rather to remain humble, the Church has included it in its sacred Calendar. It's not just a lesson for them, but also a source of encouragement for the unfortunate person who has fallen, to look up and not lose hope, because no matter how significant his sin may be, God’s mercy is even greater.

Near the city of Porphyrio in Samaria lived a hermit in a cave. He was not old, but in the bloom of manhood. Some wicked men, desirous of disgracing the anchorite, suborned a harlot to bewitch him. She therefore went to his cave one evening, and knocked at the door. He opened the door, and, seeing a woman, slammed it in her face. But she continued knocking and imploring to be admitted. Night fell, and the howl of the wolf and the snarl of the hyæna sounded dolefully without; then the hermit, fearing lest the woman should become prey to wild beasts, opened the door, and asked her who she was. She replied that she was a religious woman on her road from one convent to another, who sought shelter for the night. Then he admitted her to the outer chamber of his cave, where burnt his fire, and there he bade her rest, whilst he retired into the inner chamber, and closed the door. But, during the night, he heard her moaning and sobbing, then he looked through the little window in the door, and saw her [Pg 434] rolling on the ground, as if in great pain. He asked what ailed her, and she answered that she had cramp of the heart, and implored him to relieve her, by signing her bosom and heart with holy oil. Then she tore open her garment, and exposed her breast; and he, entering, took oil and anointed her bosom; but fearing temptation, he prayed to God with great devotion, and at the same time placed his left hand in the fire, whilst with his right he continued doing as she demanded, till suddenly, she was aware that his left hand was so burned that the fingers were completely charred through. Then, horror-struck, and filled with compunction, she threw herself at his feet, and sobbing confessed her evil design. So he bade her go and sin no more, and the woman was converted from her evil life, and she went and lived the rest of her days in the exercise of penitence.

Near the city of Porphyrio in Samaria, there lived a hermit in a cave. He wasn't old but was in the prime of his life. Some wicked men, wanting to ruin the hermit’s reputation, hired a woman to trap him. One evening, she went to his cave and knocked on the door. He opened it, saw a woman, and slammed it in her face. But she kept knocking and begging to be let in. Night fell, and the sounds of wolves and hyenas howling outside were haunting; worried that the woman might become a target for wild animals, the hermit opened the door and asked who she was. She said she was a religious woman traveling from one convent to another, looking for shelter for the night. So, he let her into the outer chamber of his cave where his fire burned, telling her to rest while he went into the inner chamber and closed the door. But during the night, he heard her moaning and sobbing. He looked through the little window in the door and saw her rolling on the ground as if in great pain. He asked what was wrong, and she said she had heart cramps and begged him to help by signing her chest and heart with holy oil. Then she tore open her garment and exposed her breast. He entered, took oil, and anointed her chest, but fearful of temptation, he prayed to God with deep devotion while placing his left hand in the fire, continuing to do as she asked with his right hand, until suddenly she noticed that his left hand was so burned that the fingers were completely charred. Horrified and filled with remorse, she threw herself at his feet and sobbed as she confessed her wicked plan. He told her to go and sin no more, and the woman turned away from her sinful life, spending the rest of her days in repentance.

Now, after this, James was of good confidence that he had completely mastered the lust of the flesh, and he was less on his guard against the wiles of Satan than before. And people saw his maimed hand, and they praised his great continence, so his heart was lifted up within him, and he was filled with spiritual pride. After many years, when he was over sixty, there came to his cell a father bringing his daughter, a very beautiful girl, who was possessed with an evil spirit, and he besought the pious hermit to cast forth the demon. And when he had prayed, the evil spirit went out of her, but left her almost inanimate. Then the father, thinking her too much exhausted to be at once removed, or fearing another access of her disorder, left her in the cell of the God-fearing recluse. And when she was there some days, and he saw her beauty, he was overcome with a violent passion of love, and he lost all control over himself, and forgot God, and deceived the unfortunate girl, and in madness he savagely murdered her, and threw the body into [Pg 435] a river.

Now, after this, James was confident that he had completely mastered his physical desires, and he was less guarded against Satan's tricks than before. People noticed his maimed hand and praised his great self-control, which made his heart swell with spiritual pride. After many years, when he was over sixty, a father came to his cell with his daughter, a very beautiful girl, who was possessed by an evil spirit. He begged the devout hermit to cast out the demon. After he prayed, the evil spirit left her, but she was left almost lifeless. The father, thinking she was too exhausted to be moved immediately, or fearing another episode of her condition, left her in the cell of the devout recluse. After she had been there for a few days, and seeing her beauty, he was overwhelmed by a powerful desire and lost all control over himself. He forgot God, deceived the unfortunate girl, and in a fit of madness, he brutally murdered her and disposed of the body in a river.

And now, as the sun set on that day of passion and crime, and the dark night settled down on the wilderness, the horror of remorse came upon him, and he writhed in his cave in an agony of shame and despair, lying with his face on the ground. Then, at last, haggard and hopeless, he rushed forth, resolving to confess his crime and then to return into the world, as one unworthy to aspire to a close walk with God. And when he had come to the nearest monastery, he called the monks together, and casting himself at their feet, sobbed forth his story of shame. The good brothers raised him, and mingled their tears with his, and prayed God to have mercy on the poor sinner, and to pluck him as a brand from the burning. After that, finding no rest, he went forth, and lighted, as evening fell, on an old hermit sitting in his cave, who offered him a lodging, and spread for him such food as he had to offer. But James would eat nothing. Then the hermit said, "Dear Christian brother, give me some good advice, how I may escape evil thoughts." And when James heard that, he uttered a piercing cry, staggered to his feet and fell on the ground, burying his face in his hands. He told all his sin to the hermit, and said that now he was about to return into the world, being unworthy to wear the habit of a monk, and live a life demanding such holiness. "When I was young, then I controlled my passions, now that I am old, my passions have conquered me. I cannot raise my eyes," he said; "I despair of salvation. I cannot name the Saving Name; fire will fall from heaven to consume me, I am lost!"

And now, as the sun set on that day filled with passion and crime, and darkness settled over the wilderness, the horror of regret hit him hard, and he twisted in his cave in an agony of shame and despair, lying face down on the ground. Finally, exhausted and hopeless, he dashed out, determined to confess his crime and then return to the world, feeling unworthy to strive for a close relationship with God. When he reached the nearest monastery, he gathered the monks together, threw himself at their feet, and sobbed as he shared his story of shame. The kind brothers lifted him up, mixed their tears with his, and prayed to God to have mercy on the poor sinner and to save him from destruction. After that, unable to find peace, he went out and, as evening fell, came across an old hermit sitting in his cave, who offered him a place to stay and shared whatever food he had. But James refused to eat. Then the hermit said, "Dear Christian brother, please give me some good advice on how I can escape evil thoughts." When James heard this, he let out a piercing cry, staggered to his feet, and fell to the ground, hiding his face in his hands. He confessed all his sins to the hermit, saying that he was about to return to the world, feeling unworthy to wear the monk's robe and live a life that required such holiness. "When I was young, I controlled my passions, but now that I'm old, my passions have taken control of me. I can't lift my eyes," he said; "I have lost hope for salvation. I can't even say the Saving Name; fire will come from heaven to consume me, I am lost!"

Then the good old hermit cast his arms round his neck and kissed him, and said, "Brother, despair not of God's forbearance, but believe that there is a place for repentance. A broken and a contrite heart God will not despise. Great is God's mercy, ever following us, therefore despair not, [Pg 436] brother!"

Then the kind old hermit wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him, saying, "Brother, don't lose hope in God's patience; believe that there is always a chance for repentance. God will not turn away from a broken and humble heart. God's mercy is great and constantly with us, so don’t despair, [Pg 436] brother!"

He ceased not from speaking, till the black cloud of despair was rolled away, and the fallen monk had the courage to hope. Then he led him on his way for many miles, earnestly dissuading him from going into the world; and so they parted, with many tears.

He kept talking until the dark cloud of despair lifted, and the fallen monk found the courage to hope again. Then he guided him for many miles, sincerely trying to convince him not to return to the world; and so they said goodbye, with many tears.

So James sought out a doleful cave which had been used as an old sepulchre, and he hid himself there, and spent in it ten years, bewailing his crime, only opening the door twice in the week, to collect a few olives on which to sustain life, and esteeming himself viler than the dust. And when ten years were accomplished, he felt that God was about to call him, therefore he went to the nearest city, and to the Bishop there, and besought him, when he was dead, to bury him in the old sepulchre in which he had undergone his penance, and in the soil he had moistened with his many tears. After that he returned to his cave, and there died, at the age of seventy-five.

So James found a sad cave that had been used as an old tomb, and he hid there for ten years, mourning his crime. He only opened the door twice a week to pick some olives to stay alive, considering himself worse than dust. When the ten years were up, he sensed that God was about to call him, so he went to the nearest city and to the Bishop there. He asked him to bury him in the old tomb where he had done his penance, in the soil soaked with his many tears, after he died. Then he went back to his cave and died there at seventy-five.

S. PAULINUS, PATR. OF AQUILEIA.

(a.d. 804.)

(A.D. 804.)

[S. Paulinus died on Jan. 11th, but his festival is observed on Jan. 28th. Authorities: various histories of his time, and the writings of himself and Alcuin.]

S. Paulinus died on January 11th, but his feast day is celebrated on January 28th. Sources include various histories from his time, as well as his own writings and those of Alcuin.

S. Paulinus, born about 726, was one of the most illustrious of the patriarchs who sat in the throne of Aquileia, which he ascended, about the year 776. He assisted at the council of Aix-la-Chapelle in 782, of Ratisbon in 792, and of Frankfort in 794; and he held one himself, at Friuli, in 791 or 796. He combated a form of Nestorianism propagated by Felix, Bishop of Urgel, and Elipandus, Bishop of Toledo, with such success that their heresy made no headway in the West. In 802, S. Paulinus assembled a council at Altino. He died on the 11th Jan., 804.

S. Paulinus, born around 726, was one of the most renowned patriarchs who held the throne of Aquileia, which he ascended around the year 776. He participated in the council of Aix-la-Chapelle in 782, the one in Ratisbon in 792, and the council at Frankfort in 794. He also led a council himself at Friuli, either in 791 or 796. He fought against a form of Nestorianism spread by Felix, Bishop of Urgel, and Elipandus, Bishop of Toledo, so effectively that their heresy didn't gain any traction in the West. In 802, S. Paulinus convened a council at Altino. He passed away on January 11, 804.

CHARLEMAGNE AND S. LOUIS.

B. CHARLEMAGNE, EMP.

(a.d. 814.)

(A.D. 814.)

[Inserted in many French, German, and Belgian Martyrologies. He was canonized by the Anti-pope Paschal III. The life of this emperor, written by his secretary Eginhart, together with the numerous historical accounts of his transactions, supply abundant material for his life.]

[Included in various French, German, and Belgian Martyrologies. He was canonized by the Anti-pope Paschal III. The biography of this emperor, written by his secretary Eginhart, along with many historical accounts of his deeds, offers ample material for his story.]

The public life of the Emperor Charlemagne belongs to the domain of secular history, rather than to hagiology. We shall confine ourselves, in this notice, to those acts which have obtained for him a place in the Kalendar of the Church.

The public life of Emperor Charlemagne is part of secular history, not hagiography. In this notice, we will focus only on the actions that secured him a spot in the Church's Kalendar.

Charlemagne, son of King Pepin, was born in 742, and was crowned king of France in 768. In the early years of his reign he was guilty of grave moral faults, which he deeply deplored in his after life. He comes before us as a man penetrated with a strong sense of religious responsibility, and of faith in the divine mission of the Church. In the midst of his wars, the spread of the true faith, and the advancement of learning, were never absent from his mind. He was zealous in reforming the monasteries, and for the sake of uniformity, he introduced into them the rule of S. Benedict. For the discipline of the clergy, he procured the convention of many synods, in which were drawn up his famous Capitulars. He meditated assiduously on the Scriptures, assisted at the divine office, even that of midnight, if possible; had good books read to him at table, and took but one meal a day. He died at the age of seventy-two, at Aix-la-Chapelle, in 814, and was there buried. His tomb was opened in 1165. The body was found, not reclining in his coffin, as is the usual fashion of the dead, but seated on his throne as one alive, clothed in the imperial robes, bearing the sceptre in his hand, and on his knees a copy of the Gospels. On his fleshless brow [Pg 438] was the crown, the imperial mantle covered his shoulders, the sword Joyeuse was by his side, and the pilgrim's pouch, which he had borne always while living, was still fastened to his girdle. His skull and throne and hunting horn are preserved in the sacristy at Aix.

Charlemagne, the son of King Pepin, was born in 742 and became king of France in 768. Early in his reign, he made serious moral mistakes, which he regretted later in life. He is remembered as a man with a strong sense of religious duty and faith in the Church's divine mission. Throughout his wars, he always kept in mind the spread of true faith and the advancement of knowledge. He was passionate about reforming monasteries and introduced the rule of St. Benedict for the sake of consistency. To improve the discipline of the clergy, he called for numerous synods, where his famous Capitulars were created. He studied the Scriptures diligently, attended the divine office—including the midnight service when he could—and had good books read to him at meals, taking only one meal a day. He died at seventy-two in Aix-la-Chapelle in 814 and was buried there. His tomb was opened in 1165, and his body was found not lying in his coffin as is typical, but seated on his throne as if alive, dressed in imperial robes, holding a scepter, with a copy of the Gospels on his knees. On his fleshless brow was the crown, the imperial mantle draped over his shoulders, the sword Joyeuse by his side, and the pilgrim's pouch he had carried throughout his life still attached to his belt. His skull, throne, and hunting horn are kept in the sacristy at Aix.

Baptism of Vanquished Saxons Baptism of the Defeated Saxons ordered by Charlemagne.
From a 15th Century miniature in the Burgundy Library in Brussels.

FOOTNOTES:

[128] "That Cyril had any share in this atrocity," says Canon Robertson, i. 401, "appears to be an unsupported calumny."

[128] "The idea that Cyril was involved in this terrible act," says Canon Robertson, i. 401, "seems to be an unfounded slander."

[129] Decline and Fall, Ed. Bohn, i. p. 348.

[129] Decline and Fall, Ed. Bohn, i. p. 348.

[130] See p. 406.

__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__ See page __A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_1__.

[131] Chiefly from Bright's Church History.

Mainly from Bright's Church History.


January 29.

S. Valerius, B. of Trèves, end of 1st. cent.
S. Constantius, B.M. at Perugia, between a.d. 161-8.
SS. Sabinian, M., and Sabina, V., at Troyes, in France, circ. a.d. 275.
SS. Papias and Maurus, MM., at Rome, circ. a.d. 303.
S. Gildas the Wise, Ab. in Brittany, 6th cent.
S. Sulpicius Severus, B. of Bourges, a.d. 591.
S. Baculus, B. of Sorrento, circ. a.d. 679.
S. Peter Thomasius, Latin Patr. of Constantinople, a.d. 1366.
S. Francis of Sales, B. of Geneva, a.d. 1622.

S. Valerius, Bishop of Trèves, end of the 1st century.
S. Constantius, Martyr in Perugia, between AD 161-168.
SS. Sabinian, Martyr, and Sabina, Virgin, in Troyes, France, around AD 275.
SS. Papias and Maurus, Martyrs in Rome, around AD 303.
S. Gildas the Wise, Abbot in Brittany, 6th century.
S. Sulpicius Severus, Bishop of Bourges, AD 591.
S. Baculus, Bishop of Sorrento, around AD 679.
S. Peter Thomasius, Latin Patriarch of Constantinople, AD 1366.
S. Francis of Sales, Bishop of Geneva, AD 1622.

S. VALERIUS, B. OF TREVES.

(end of 1st cent.)

(end of 1st century)

[There are many Saints of this name. This S. Valerius appears in very many of the most ancient Martyrologies. His Acts, together with those of SS. Eucher and Maternus, his companions, was written by a certain Goldscher, of uncertain date, but ancient; for it is quoted by Heriger, Ab. Lobie, who died 1007. Goldscher says that he collected the accounts he found of Valerius and his companions from various ancient chronicles.]

There are many saints with this name. Saint Valerius is mentioned in several ancient Martyrologies. His story, along with those of Saints Eucher and Maternus, his companions, was recorded by someone named Goldscher, whose date is unclear but is regarded as ancient; it’s referenced by Heriger, Ab. Lobie, who died in 1007. Goldscher notes that he compiled the stories he found about Valerius and his companions from various ancient chronicles.

E.

ucher, Valerius, and Maternus, according to legend wholly unreliable, were three disciples of S. Peter, and were sent by him to preach the Gospel in Gaul. The first was consecrated by him bishop, the second, deacon, and Maternus, sub-deacon. S. Eucher fixed his see at Treves, then an important city. After his death Valerius was elevated to the episcopate, and preached the word of God with so much zeal, that many were added to the Church. On his death, he was succeeded by S. Maternus.

Eucher, Valerius, and Maternus, who are considered by some to be entirely unreliable, were three followers of St. Peter who he sent to spread the Gospel in Gaul. Eucher was made a bishop by him, Valerius became a deacon, and Maternus took the role of sub-deacon. St. Eucher established his episcopal seat in Treves, which was a significant city at the time. After he died, Valerius was appointed as bishop and preached the word of God with such enthusiasm that many people joined the Church. After his death, St. Maternus succeeded him.

SS. SABINIAN, M., AND SABINA, V.

(about a.d. 275.)

(circa A.D. 275.)

[Commemorated in some churches on Jan. 25th, in others on Jan. 29th, June 8th, Aug. 29th, Sept. 5th; sometimes together, and sometimes severally. Authorities: two ancient lives of S. Sabinian, and one of S. Sabina, published by Bollandus.]

[Some churches remember this on January 25th, while others observe it on January 29th, June 8th, August 29th, or September 5th; occasionally, these dates are celebrated together or separately. Sources: two ancient accounts of S. Sabinian and one of S. Sabina, published by Bollandus.]

SS. Sabinian and Sabina were brother and sister, natives [Pg 440] of Samos. Sabinian's soul having been touched by Christian teaching, he left his native island, and coming to Gaul reached Troyes, where he fell in with Christians, and he was there baptized in the river Seine. It is said that his staff, which he had driven into the bank, as he went down into the water, on his return put forth leaves and flowered.

SS. Sabinian and Sabina were siblings from Samos. After his soul was inspired by Christian teachings, Sabinian left his home island and traveled to Gaul, where he arrived in Troyes. There, he connected with Christians and was baptized in the Seine River. It’s said that the staff he had planted in the bank while entering the water blossomed with leaves and flowers upon his return.

In the reign of Aurelian he was brought before the emperor, then at Vienne in Gaul, and was cruelly tormented, by being seated on a heated bench of iron, and a red-hot helmet was placed on his head. He was afterwards executed with the sword. His sister Sabina, who had followed him, arrived at Troyes after his martyrdom. She was there baptized, spent a holy life, and died a virgin.

In Aurelian's reign, he was brought before the emperor at Vienne in Gaul and was brutally tortured, made to sit on a hot iron bench while a red-hot helmet was placed on his head. He was later executed by sword. His sister Sabina, who had followed him, reached Troyes after his martyrdom. There, she was baptized, lived a holy life, and died a virgin.

S. GILDAS THE WISE, AB., IN BRITTANY.

(6th cent.)

(6th century)

[There are said to have been several British saints of this name. But that commemorated on this day is the famous author, whose writings are extant. It is probable that Gildas, having been born in Scotland, bred in Wales, and a monastic founder in Brittany, has been divided into three, and some of the incidents have attached themselves to S. Gildas the Scotchman, others to S. Gildas the Welshman, and others again to him of Brittany. Yet these are all easily reducible into a consecutive history, and belong, in fact, to one man. His life was written by Caradoc of Llancarvan, about 1150; another life is by an anonymous monk of Rhys.]

There have been several British saints with this name. However, the one we honor today is the famous author whose writings still exist. It's likely that Gildas, who was born in Scotland, raised in Wales, and became a monastic founder in Brittany, has been split into three figures, with some stories linked to S. Gildas the Scot, others to S. Gildas the Welshman, and yet more to the one from Brittany. Nevertheless, all these stories can easily be combined into a single coherent history, as they actually refer to one person. His life was written by Caradoc of Llancarvan around 1150, and another account was made by an anonymous monk of Rhys.

S. Gildas, surnamed the Wise, was born in North-Britain near the Clyde, in the kingdom of which Dumbarton was the capital. His father was of princely birth; his eldest son, Howel, was a great warrior, who, succeeding his father in the principality, was slain by King Arthur. Mailoc, another son, was brought up to the religious life. Two other brothers, and their sister, Peteona, in like manner left the world, and choosing a retired place in the furthest extremity [Pg 441] of that country, built themselves separate oratories, where, by watching, fasting, and fervent prayer, they continually strove to reach their heavenly country. As to Gildas, we learn from his own writings, that he was born in the year of the famous victory, gained (as some say, by Ambrose; or, as others say, by Arthur,) over the Saxons at Mount Badon, near Bath, about a.d. 520. He was, when a child, committed by his parents to the care of S. Iltut, who brought him up in his monastery of Llan-Iltut in Glamorganshire, instructing him in the divine Scriptures, and in the liberal arts. These divine meditations wonderfully increased his faith and love of heavenly things, and influenced in such a manner the whole conduct of his life, that from his very youth he attained to great perfection and was favoured with the gift of miracles. From S. Iltut's school, where he had for companions S. Samson and S. Paul of Leon, both of whom were afterwards illustrious prelates, he went over into Ireland, for his further improvement in virtue and learning, among the disciples of S. Patrick. There he frequented the most celebrated masters of divine and human learning; and like the industrious bee, gathered honey from every flower—the honey of virtue and of knowledge. In the meantime, he failed not to chastise his body and bring it into subjection, lest, with all his learning and preaching to others, he himself might become a cast-away. Therefore he fasted much, and often watched whole nights, employing that silent time in prayer.

S. Gildas, known as the Wise, was born in North Britain near the Clyde, in the kingdom where Dumbarton was the capital. His father was of noble birth; his eldest son, Howel, was a great warrior who, after succeeding his father as prince, was killed by King Arthur. Mailoc, another son, chose a life dedicated to religion. Two other brothers and their sister, Peteona, similarly left the world, selecting a secluded spot at the farthest edge of the country to build separate oratories, where they tirelessly struggled through watching, fasting, and fervent prayer to reach their heavenly home. Regarding Gildas, his own writings tell us he was born in the year of the famous victory, said by some to have been achieved by Ambrose, and by others by Arthur, over the Saxons at Mount Badon, near Bath, around A.D. 520. As a child, he was entrusted to the care of S. Iltut by his parents, who raised him in his monastery of Llan-Iltut in Glamorganshire, teaching him divine Scriptures and the liberal arts. These spiritual meditations greatly strengthened his faith and love for heavenly matters, shaping his entire life so that from a young age, he reached a high level of perfection and was granted the gift of miracles. From S. Iltut's school, where he was classmates with S. Samson and S. Paul of Leon—both of whom later became notable bishops—he traveled to Ireland for further development in virtue and knowledge among the disciples of S. Patrick. There, he attended the most renowned teachers of divine and secular learning, diligently collecting the insights of virtue and knowledge like a busy bee gathering honey from every flower. Meanwhile, he made sure to discipline his body and keep it in check, fearing that despite all his learning and preaching to others, he might end up disqualified himself. So, he fasted frequently and often spent whole nights in vigil, using that quiet time for prayer.

After Gildas was ordained priest, he preached the Gospel in the northern parts of Britain; where a great part of the inhabitants were heathen, and those calling themselves Christians were infected with the Pelagian heresy. God blessed his labours there with such success, that great numbers of heathen and heretics were by his means converted to Christ; and many miracles were wrought through him in [Pg 442] the cure of the sick, in confirmation of his doctrine. The reputation of his success having reached Ireland, the king, Ainmeric, invited him over. Gildas accepted the call, and there, by his preaching and miracles, he mightily advanced the kingdom of God. He built churches and monasteries, established Christian discipline, regulated the liturgy, taught for some time in the famous school of Armagh, and was, in a word, another S. Patrick to that nation, by which he has been ever since gratefully honoured among their most illustrious Saints.

After Gildas became a priest, he preached the Gospel in the northern parts of Britain, where many of the inhabitants were pagans, and those who identified as Christians were influenced by the Pelagian heresy. God blessed his efforts there with such success that many pagans and heretics were converted to Christ through him, and he performed many miracles in [Pg 442] to heal the sick, reinforcing his teachings. News of his success reached Ireland, and King Ainmeric invited him over. Gildas accepted the invitation, and there, through his preaching and miracles, he significantly furthered the kingdom of God. He built churches and monasteries, established Christian practices, organized the liturgy, and taught for some time at the renowned school of Armagh. In short, he was like another St. Patrick to that nation, and he has been honored ever since among their most celebrated Saints.

After these things, leaving Ireland and Britain, he sailed over into Armorica or Brittany, and there founded the monastery of Rhys. But as he was desirous of solitude and undisturbed contemplation, he made himself an oratory, at some distance from that monastery, under a rock upon the bank of the river Blavet, where he devoted his solitary hours to prayer.[132] The exact date of his death is uncertain.

After these events, he left Ireland and Britain and sailed over to Armorica, or Brittany, where he established the monastery of Rhys. However, seeking solitude and quiet reflection, he built a small chapel a bit away from the monastery, beneath a rock by the river Blavet, where he spent his solitary hours in prayer.[132] The exact date of his death is unknown.

S. SULPICIUS SEVERUS, B. OF BOURGES.

(a.d. 591.)

(A.D. 591.)

[There is great confusion caused by there having been so many archbishops of this name. There was a Sulpicius the Pious, Archbishop of Bourges about 644; commemorated on Jan. 17th. There was also Sulpicius Severus, the disciple of S. Martin, whose life Butler gives on this day, and who is the famous historian, but there seems to be no authority for numbering him with the Saints. Butler also says that there were four Sulpicii, Archbishops of Bourges, but this seems to be a mistake, for Bollandus gives only two, Sulpicius the Pious and Sulpicius Severus.]

There's a lot of confusion due to the many archbishops with this name. One was Sulpicius the Pious, Archbishop of Bourges around 644, commemorated on January 17th. There was also Sulpicius Severus, a disciple of St. Martin, whose life Butler talks about today, and he is a well-known historian, but it seems there's no evidence of him being recognized as a Saint. Butler also notes that there were four Sulpicii, Archbishops of Bourges, but this seems to be a mistake, as Bollandus lists only two: Sulpicius the Pious and Sulpicius Severus.

Little of the acts of this Saint is known, and he is here mentioned solely to enable the reader to distinguish the Saint of this name from the historian, and also from his successor Sulpicius the Pious.

Little is known about the actions of this Saint, and he is mentioned here only to help the reader differentiate this Saint with that name from the historian, as well as from his successor, Sulpicius the Pious.

FOOTNOTES:

[132] He is said to have glazed the east window of his oratory with a pane of an hitherto unheard of size.

[132] He is said to have fitted the east window of his chapel with a pane of an unprecedented size.

S. FRANCIS OF SALES, B.C. OF GENEVA.

(a.d. 1622.)

(A.D. 1622)

[Roman Martyrology. Beatified, a.d. 1661, canonized, a.d. 1665. Jan. 29th, is the day of the translation of his body to Annecy; he died on Holy Innocents' Day. Authorities: authentic lives by his nephew, Charles Augustus de Sales, also by F. Goulu, general of the Feuillans, also by Henry de Maupas du Tour, Bishop of Puys, and afterward of Evreux; also by Madame de Bussi-Rabutin, nun of the Visitation; also anecdotes of him collected by his friend Camus, Bishop of Belley; and finally, his own writings.[133]]

[Roman Martyrology. Beatified in 1661, canonized in 1665. January 29th marks the day his body was transferred to Annecy; he died on Holy Innocents' Day. Sources: authentic biographies by his nephew, Charles Augustus de Sales, as well as by F. Goulu, general of the Feuillans, and by Henry de Maupas du Tour, Bishop of Puys, later Bishop of Evreux; also by Madame de Bussi-Rabutin, a nun of the Visitation; along with anecdotes about him collected by his friend Camus, Bishop of Belley; and finally, his own writings.__A_TAG_PLACEHOLDER_0__]

S. Francis of Sales was the eldest son of one of the principal nobles of Savoy,—John, Lord of Sales, of Boisy, of Balleyson, and of Ville-Roget, usually styled by the second of these titles. His mother Frances, daughter of the Lord of La Thuille and of Vallieres, came of no less noble stock. He had many brothers and sisters, of whom Louis, Lord of La Thuille, was the father of Charles Augustus, the pious biographer of the Saint. Francis was born, Aug. 21st, 1567.

S. Francis of Sales was the oldest son of one of the main nobles of Savoy—John, Lord of Sales, Boisy, Balleyson, and Ville-Roget, usually known by the second of these titles. His mother, Frances, was the daughter of the Lord of La Thuille and Vallieres, coming from equally noble lineage. He had several brothers and sisters, including Louis, Lord of La Thuille, who was the father of Charles Augustus, the devout biographer of the Saint. Francis was born on August 21, 1567.

He was sent in early childhood to the college of Annecy, where he was trained in all the accomplishments which in those days were considered essential to the rank of a young noble. He was five years at the college of Annecy. At the age of eleven, he entreated permission of his father to take the tonsure, having at that early age decided to adopt the ecclesiastical life. M. de Boisy by no means desired this, for his ambition was, that his eldest son should succeed him as the head of the family, and distinguish himself in political life; but, with that sort of management which men of great experience often prefer to violent measures, he permitted him to do as he pleased. The old lord knew that the tonsure did not bind his son finally to become an ecclesiastic; and he depended on the changes to which a young man's mind is subject, to dissipate this predilection.

He was sent to the college of Annecy at a young age, where he received training in all the skills that were considered essential for a young noble at the time. He spent five years at the college of Annecy. When he was eleven, he asked his father for permission to take the tonsure, having already made up his mind to pursue a religious life. M. de Boisy was against this, as he wanted his eldest son to take over the family and make a name for himself in politics. However, with the kind of strategy that experienced men often prefer over forceful actions, he let his son follow his own wishes. The old lord realized that taking the tonsure didn't commit his son to becoming a priest for life, and he hoped that the young man's changing interests would eventually lead him away from this choice.

In 1580, he was sent to pursue his studies in the University of Paris. At Paris one of the most critical events of his life took place, a terrible temptation to despair, which came on suddenly, and lasted for a considerable time, but from which he was released in a wonderful manner. He was about the age of seventeen, when the idea took possession of his mind, that he was not in a state of grace, and that the face of God was turned away from him. In his agony of mental distress he prayed, "Lord if I may not see Thee hereafter, yet, oh grant, that I may never blaspheme Thee!" He seems, if it were possible, to have suffered the very anguish of hell, without the loss of the love of God. During the six weeks this shadow lay upon him, he could hardly eat or sleep, he wasted to a skeleton and his friends became greatly alarmed for his health. At length, this great cross disappeared as suddenly as it came. He one day entered the church of S. Etienne des Grés and knelt down before an image of the Blessed Virgin. His eye was caught by a tablet on the wall, on which was inscribed the famous prayer of S. Bernard, called the Memorare. He repeated it with great emotion; and implored that, through the intercession of Mary, it might please God to restore his peace of mind. He also made a vow of perpetual chastity. The dark thoughts which had brooded over his soul for many weeks now sped away, and the sun of God's favour shone on it and warmed it once more. He came out of the church in that sweet and profound calmness of mind which he never afterwards lost. Considering what he was to become in after life, the guide and comforter of such a multitude of souls, it was necessary, in order to give him his tender overflowing sympathy, that he should have sounded the most unusual [Pg 445] depths of human agony.

In 1580, he was sent to study at the University of Paris. While in Paris, one of the most significant events of his life occurred—a sudden, intense temptation to despair that lasted for quite a while, from which he was eventually freed in a remarkable way. At around the age of seventeen, he became convinced that he was not in a state of grace and that God's face was turned away from him. In his mental anguish, he prayed, "Lord, if I may not see You hereafter, please grant that I may never blaspheme You!" It seemed, if possible, he experienced the very torment of hell, yet he did not lose his love for God. During the six weeks this shadow hung over him, he could hardly eat or sleep; he became like a skeleton, and his friends were deeply concerned for his health. Eventually, this heavy burden vanished as suddenly as it had come. One day, he entered the church of S. Etienne des Grés and knelt before an image of the Blessed Virgin. His attention was caught by a tablet on the wall, which had inscribed the famous prayer of S. Bernard, known as the Memorare. He recited it with great emotion, pleading that, through Mary's intercession, God would restore his peace of mind. He also made a vow of perpetual chastity. The dark thoughts that had plagued him for many weeks then vanished, and the light of God's favor shone upon him once more, warming his spirit. He left the church in a sweet and profound calm that he never lost again. Given what he would later become—a guide and comforter for countless souls—it was essential for him to have experienced the most profound depths of human suffering to develop his deep, overflowing sympathy. [Pg 445]

After having spent five years at Paris, he was sent to finish his education at the university of Padua, and there he remained till he was twenty-four years of age, when, in 1591, he took his degree of doctor of laws. Soon after his return home, his father sent him to Chambéry, to take the office of senator in the court, and the young Francis took the opportunity of conferring with the Bishop on the steps which it would be most advisable for him to take, in order to ensure the consent of his family to his embracing the ecclesiastical state, on which his heart had long been set. The Bishop advised him to wait a little, before declaring this intention; and, in the mean time he obtained a bull from Rome authorizing the appointment of Francis to the deanery of the cathedral, knowing that the attainment of this dignity would soften the feelings of the family towards the purposed steps. The hopes of Francis, however, seemed destined to be frustrated altogether by the extreme anxiety of his father, both that he should accept the post offered him, and also that he should marry a rich, amiable, and beautiful girl, the daughter of one of their oldest friends. But Francis, to the surprise and despair of his parents, refused both offers. Not long after, the suspense becoming intolerable to him, and his vocation day by day stronger, he resolved to reveal the cause to his father and mother, and taking with him his cousin, Louis of Sales, he implored their consent to his becoming a priest. M. de Boisy was stupified at his son's proposal, which took him completely by surprise, and at first flatly refused his consent. But after combating the resolution of Francis for a long time, he yielded to the entreaties of his wife, who warned him that, should he oppose so decided a vocation, it would be refusing him permission to follow the voice of God. Armed with his father's consent and blessing, Francis lost no time in hastening back to [Pg 446] the Bishop of Geneva, from whom he received minor orders on June 8th, 1593. The Bishop, who had the highest opinion of his power, told him that he expected him to preach on the following Thursday, which was the Feast of Corpus Christi. When the morning came, Francis was seized with a sudden panic, and he cast himself on his bed when the bells were ringing for service. But, overcoming his bashfulness, he rose and went to the cathedral, where he preached on the Real Presence in the Holy Eucharist, a sermon which flowed from a heart which had long loved and adored that Presence. The Bishop was much moved by this discourse, and three leading Calvinist gentlemen who had come out of sheer curiosity to hear the new preacher were convinced, and shortly after were received into the Church of God.

After spending five years in Paris, he was sent to finish his education at the University of Padua, where he stayed until he was twenty-four years old. In 1591, he earned his law degree. Soon after returning home, his father sent him to Chambéry to take a position as a senator in the court. Young Francis saw this as a chance to discuss with the Bishop what steps he should take to gain his family’s approval for pursuing a religious life, which he had long desired. The Bishop suggested that he wait a bit before making this intention known; in the meantime, he secured a bull from Rome that authorized Francis’ appointment to the deanery of the cathedral, believing that achieving this honor would make his family more supportive of his plans. However, Francis’ hopes seemed to be dashed by his father’s intense worry that he would either accept the offered position or marry a rich, kind, and beautiful girl, the daughter of one of their oldest friends. To the shock and dismay of his parents, Francis rejected both proposals. Not long after, feeling increasingly restless and certain of his calling each day, he decided to tell his parents the truth. He brought his cousin, Louis of Sales, with him and sought their blessing to become a priest. M. de Boisy was taken aback by his son’s unexpected proposal and initially flatly refused to give his consent. After a prolonged struggle against Francis’ determination, he eventually gave in to his wife’s pleas, who reminded him that denying such a strong calling would be akin to refusing him the chance to follow God’s voice. With his father’s consent and blessing, Francis quickly returned to the Bishop of Geneva, who granted him minor orders on June 8th, 1593. The Bishop, who held Francis in high regard, informed him that he would be expected to preach the following Thursday, which was the Feast of Corpus Christi. When the morning arrived, Francis was suddenly overtaken by panic and threw himself onto his bed as the bells rang for service. But, overcoming his shyness, he got up and went to the cathedral, where he delivered a sermon on the Real Presence in the Holy Eucharist—one that flowed from a heart that had long loved and revered that Presence. The Bishop was deeply moved by his message, and three prominent Calvinist gentlemen who had come out of mere curiosity to hear the new preacher were convinced, soon after joining the Church of God.

On the 18th December of the same year, Francis was promoted to priests' orders, on which occasion his ecstatic devotion amazed the assistants.

On December 18th of that year, Francis was promoted to the priesthood, and his intense devotion amazed those who were there.

At this time the Bishop received an appeal from the Duke of Savoy to send missionaries into the Chablais. This is a portion of Savoy to the south of the lake of Geneva, which had been forced into heresy by the canton of Berne in Switzerland. The circumstances were as follows. During the wars between the canton of Berne, supporting insurgent Geneva against the Duke of Savoy, Charles III, who was thus engaged in war with Francis I., King of France, the troops of Berne had invaded the province of Chablais, and has wrested it from him. Not content with this usurpation, the senate of Berne determined to undermine the Catholic religion in this canton, and for this purpose divided the conquered province into townships, of which the principal was fixed at Thonon, on the borders of the lake. There were two large churches in the town, those of S. Hippolytus, and S. Augustine. The authorities of Berne drove out the [Pg 447] Catholic clergy, and sent two violent reformers, Farel and Lambertet to preach during Lent in 1536, and try to prevail on the people to disbelieve the majority of those truths which the Church had taught them. This they accordingly did, but when Lambertet began to preach in the pulpit of the church of S. Hippolytus, a scene of confusion ensued; he was absolutely refused a hearing, and one of the citizens forced him to come down from the pulpit. The government of Berne, to punish this tumult, sent six commissioners, who, on the 4th of June, destroyed and defaced the sacred images, burnt the crosses, forbade the exercise of the Catholic religion, and drove away all the priests and religious; and by edict forbade the exercise of any Catholic rite under a penalty of ten florins for each offence. In a few years, to all intents and purposes, Catholicism was banished from the land. Fifty-seven years had passed, and by means of rigid suppression of Catholicism, the people had grown up in heresy or total unbelief. Now, the Chablais was returned to the Duke of Savoy, and he wrote to the Bishop of Geneva, entreating him to send some holy priest to Thonon to inaugurate the work of leading the people out of the darkness of error into the clear light of the Gospel of Christ. The Bishop sent a virtuous priest, but the following year the castle of Thonon was betrayed and destroyed by the Bernese troops, and the poor priest, fearing for his life, and utterly despairing of effecting any conversions among the Protestants, quitted his post, and returned to report his failure to the Bishop at Annecy. But the Duke, no way disheartened by this state of things, rebuilt and fortified the castle of Allinges not far from Thonon, placed it in a garrison, and wrote again to the Bishop, imploring for fresh workers in the neglected spiritual vineyard.

At this time, the Bishop received a request from the Duke of Savoy to send missionaries to Chablais. This area of Savoy is located south of Lake Geneva and had been forced into heresy by the Canton of Berne in Switzerland. Here's what happened: during the wars between the Canton of Berne, which supported the rebellious Geneva against Duke Charles III of Savoy, who was at war with Francis I, King of France, the troops from Berne invaded Chablais and took it from him. Not satisfied with this takeover, the Senate of Berne decided to undermine the Catholic faith in this region. They divided the conquered area into townships, with the main one established at Thonon, on the shores of the lake. There were two major churches in the town, Saint Hippolytus and Saint Augustine. The Berne authorities expelled the Catholic clergy and sent two aggressive reformers, Farel and Lambertet, to preach during Lent in 1536 and try to convince the people to reject the majority of the truths that the Church had taught them. They succeeded in this effort, but when Lambertet began to preach in the pulpit of Saint Hippolytus, chaos broke out; he was completely denied a hearing, and one of the local citizens forced him to step down from the pulpit. In response to this unrest, the government of Berne sent six commissioners who, on June 4th, destroyed and vandalized the sacred images, burned the crosses, banned the Catholic faith, and expelled all the priests and religious figures. They issued an edict prohibiting any Catholic rites, imposing a fine of ten florins for each violation. Within a few years, for all practical purposes, Catholicism was eliminated from the area. Fifty-seven years passed, and through the strict suppression of Catholicism, the people grew up in heresy or total disbelief. Now, Chablais had been returned to the Duke of Savoy, who wrote to the Bishop of Geneva, asking him to send a holy priest to Thonon to begin the work of guiding the people from the darkness of error into the clear light of the Gospel of Christ. The Bishop sent a virtuous priest, but the following year, the castle of Thonon was betrayed and destroyed by the troops from Berne. Fearing for his life and completely hopeless about converting the Protestants, the poor priest left his position and returned to report his failure to the Bishop at Annecy. However, the Duke, undeterred by the situation, rebuilt and fortified the castle of Allinges, not far from Thonon, placed a garrison there, and wrote again to the Bishop, pleading for more workers in the neglected spiritual vineyard.

The Bishop summoned a meeting of the Cathedral Chapter, and made a moving discourse before them on the [Pg 448] subject of the Duke's letter, which he first read to the assembly. A profound and chilling silence followed the Bishop's appeal, but all turned to look at the young dean, whose face seemed radiant with joy and emotion. He rose, and said simply and earnestly, "My Lord, if you think me capable and worthy of this mission, I undertake it with joy. At thy word will I let down my net!" The Bishop gratefully accepted the generous offer, and prepared to do all for Francis that lay in his power to ensure his success.

The Bishop called a meeting of the Cathedral Chapter and delivered an emotional speech about the Duke's letter, which he first read to everyone. There was a deep and eerie silence after the Bishop spoke, but everyone turned to look at the young dean, whose face lit up with joy and emotion. He stood up and earnestly said, "My Lord, if you believe I am capable and deserving of this mission, I gladly accept it. At your command, I will cast my net!" The Bishop gratefully accepted the kind offer and was ready to do everything in his power to help Francis succeed.

Far different, however, was the scene in the castle of Sales, when the fatal news became known. M. de Boisy flew to Annecy, and overwhelmed Francis with entreaties and reproaches. "Wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business," was the reply of the Saint; then throwing himself at his father's feet, he besought his consent and his blessing. M. de Boisy replied, "As to consenting to this mad undertaking, I cannot do it. It is of no use asking me;" and so saying, the poor old man left the palace, and returned in tears to his castle, there to be soothed, but not consoled, by the stronger faith of his wife.

Very different, however, was the scene in the castle of Sales when the tragic news broke. M. de Boisy rushed to Annecy and bombarded Francis with pleas and accusations. "Did you not know that I must be about my Father's business?" was the Saint's response. Then, kneeling at his father's feet, he pleaded for his approval and blessing. M. de Boisy replied, "As for giving my approval to this crazy plan, I can’t do it. There's no point in asking me;" and with that, the poor old man left the palace, returning in tears to his castle, where he was comforted, but not consoled, by the stronger faith of his wife.

Francois de Sales Euesque

On Sept. 9th, 1594, Francis, accompanied by his cousin, Louis, started on his evangelical mission. It was necessary to pass by the castle of Sales, when Frances had a fresh battle to fight with his family. "The Château of Sales," writes a contemporary of our Saint, "was at that time one of the most beautiful in Savoy, situated at the foot of mount Ferreo, and surrounded with lovely gardens and shrubberies. A fountain in the centre, and a lake on one side, added to its charms." Yet all this Francis seems to have left without a thought or even a regret. During their visit, the cousins determined to spend a couple of days in retreat. The evening of the second day, Francis went to take leave of his mother. Her conduct throughout had been admirable. This terrible parting over, Francis went back to the chapel, where, as a child, he had so often knelt with that tender mother before the altar and repeated, evening after evening, his childish prayers, and there the noble sacrifice of his whole future life to God was consummated and accepted. His natural sorrow quenched in the Sacred Presence, Francis spent the rest of the night in prayer, for the success of his mission; and the next morning the cousins started at break of day, avoiding all further leave-takings; and without either servants or provisions; his father having expressly forbidden any assistance being given to them, hoping thereby to disgust them of their enterprise. So, in poverty, S. Francis left his ancestral home. Nine years afterwards, writing to the Pope, he says, "On arriving in the Chablais, nothing but heart-breaking sights met our eyes. Out of sixty-five parishes, excepting a few officers of the Duke's garrisons, there were scarcely fifty Catholics. The churches were desecrated or destroyed, and the cross everywhere broken down."

On September 9, 1594, Francis, along with his cousin Louis, began his missionary journey. They had to pass by the Château of Sales, where Francis had to face his family once again. "The Château of Sales," writes a contemporary of our Saint, "was one of the most beautiful in Savoy at that time, located at the foot of Mount Ferreo and surrounded by lovely gardens and shrubs. A fountain in the center and a lake on one side added to its charm." Yet, Francis seems to have left all this without a second thought or even a hint of regret. During their visit, the cousins decided to spend a couple of days in retreat. On the evening of the second day, Francis went to say goodbye to his mother. Her behavior throughout had been exemplary. After this heart-wrenching farewell, Francis returned to the chapel, where, as a child, he had often knelt with that loving mother at the altar, repeating his childhood prayers night after night. There, he made the noble sacrifice of his entire future life to God, which was accepted. His natural sorrow was soothed in the Sacred Presence, and Francis spent the rest of the night in prayer for the success of his mission. The next morning, the cousins set off at dawn, skipping any further goodbyes, and went without servants or supplies, as his father had explicitly forbidden anyone to assist them, hoping to discourage them from their endeavor. So, in poverty, St. Francis left his family home. Nine years later, writing to the Pope, he said, "When we arrived in the Chablais, we were met with nothing but heartbreaking scenes. Out of sixty-five parishes, aside from a few officers from the Duke's garrisons, there were barely fifty Catholics. The churches were desecrated or destroyed, and the cross was broken down everywhere."

It would be impossible to give an idea of the fury of the Protestants of Thonon when they heard of the mission of the two cousins. The news flew to Geneva, where a public meeting was instantly held to declare that any one was at liberty to take the lives of the two Papists who had dared to undertake the mission; some of the Protestants present went so far as to swear that they themselves would be their assassins. M. de Boisy was alarmed when news reached him that the life of his son was menaced, and he sent his old and faithful servant, George Roland, with positive orders to bring Francis back; but the Saint was not to be moved; he, however, persuaded his cousin, Louis, to go back for a short while, in order to calm the anxiety of his family, whilst he himself remained to prosecute his great work. Louis obeyed, but soon returned, and the two earnest [Pg 450] missioners laboured indefatigably together to advance the Gospel. Francis went on foot among the villages, his stick, his breviary, and his Bible being his sole companions; Louis being sent into other parts of the province.

It would be impossible to describe the anger of the Protestants in Thonon when they heard about the mission of the two cousins. The news spread quickly to Geneva, where a public meeting was held immediately to declare that anyone was free to kill the two Catholics who had dared to take on the mission; some of the Protestants present even vowed that they would personally carry out the assassinations. M. de Boisy was worried when he learned that his son's life was in danger, and he sent his loyal old servant, George Roland, with strict orders to bring Francis back; but the Saint was not to be swayed. He did manage to convince his cousin, Louis, to return for a short time to ease his family's worries, while he stayed to continue his important work. Louis complied but soon came back, and the two dedicated [Pg 450] missionaries worked tirelessly together to spread the Gospel. Francis traveled on foot among the villages, his stick, his breviary, and his Bible being his only companions, while Louis was sent to other parts of the province.

One night, on the 12th December, being on an expedition of this kind, night came on suddenly; the earth was covered with snow, and he found himself alone in a large wood infested with wolves. Afraid of being devoured, he climbed up into a tree to pass the night; and then, lest he should fall asleep and drop from the branch, he tied himself with his leathern girdle to the stem. The next morning some peasants from a neighbouring village found him there, nearly frozen with cold, and unable to move. They carried him to their home, gently chafed his numbed limbs, and brought him back to warmth and consciousness. Their charity was not without its reward, for the Saint profited by the occasion to speak to them on things concerning their eternal salvation. His gentle, loving voice and manner effected even more than his words, and the zeal he had shown in braving every kind of peril and suffering for the sake of bringing back a few stray sheep to the fold, spoke more forcibly to their hearts than a thousand sermons. These poor peasants were moved and touched, and S. Francis numbered them among his first converts. M. de Boisy sent George Roland back to Francis at the beginning of the year 1595, and to the records of this faithful servant, who from that hour never left him, we are mainly indebted for the details of the most interesting personal adventures which befell the Saint. But God Himself interposed on several occasions to save His servant from dangers of which even George Roland knew nothing. There was one bigoted Protestant, who in the height of fanatical fury, swore that he would murder Francis and carry his head to Geneva. This man was afterwards converted, and declared on oath [Pg 451] that he had thrice waylaid the Saint to accomplish his purpose, and that each time his gun missed fire, and that he had posted various other persons to kill him, but on each occasion God had rendered His apostle invisible. The instigator of this diabolical design was at last touched by the wonderful way in which providence shielded Francis from harm; he abjured his heresy, and became afterwards one of the Saint's most devoted followers.

One night, on December 12th, while on an expedition, night fell suddenly; the ground was covered with snow, and he found himself alone in a large forest filled with wolves. Terrified of being eaten, he climbed a tree to spend the night; to avoid falling asleep and dropping from the branch, he tied himself to the trunk with his leather belt. The next morning, some villagers from a nearby town discovered him there, nearly frozen and unable to move. They took him to their home, gently warmed his frozen limbs, and brought him back to warmth and consciousness. Their kindness didn’t go unrewarded, as the Saint took the opportunity to talk to them about their eternal salvation. His gentle, loving voice and manner did more than his words, and the courage he showed in facing all kinds of danger and suffering to bring back a few lost sheep to the fold resonated with their hearts more than a thousand sermons could. The poor villagers were moved, and St. Francis counted them among his first converts. Mr. de Boisy sent George Roland back to Francis at the start of 1595, and we owe much of the fascinating personal stories of the Saint's adventures to this loyal servant, who never left his side from that moment on. However, God Himself intervened on several occasions to protect His servant from dangers unknown even to George Roland. There was a fanatical Protestant who, in a fit of rage, vowed to murder Francis and take his head to Geneva. This man later converted and swore that he had ambushed the Saint three times to carry out his plan, but each time his gun misfired, and he had sent others to kill him, yet on each occasion God made His apostle invisible. The mastermind behind this wicked plot was ultimately moved by the miraculous way providence protected Francis from harm; he renounced his heresy and later became one of the Saint's most devoted followers.

At the beginning of the year 1595, Francis began a short, clear, and simple exposition of Catholic doctrine, written on loose sheets for distribution among Protestants, with an answer to the principal objections raised against the Faith. Every one read and discussed these fly-leaves—and the Protestants were beyond measure surprised at the way in which all their favourite arguments were disproved, while some among them were equally startled at finding how their prejudices regarding the Catholic faith melted away before the sunshine of God's truth.

At the start of 1595, Francis began a brief, clear, and straightforward explanation of Catholic doctrine, written on loose sheets to share with Protestants, addressing the main objections against the Faith. Everyone read and talked about these pamphlets—and the Protestants were extremely surprised at how all their favorite arguments were refuted, while some of them were equally shocked to see their biases about the Catholic faith dissolve in the light of God’s truth.

The winter, always severe in Savoy, was this year one of unusual rigour. The roads were one sheet of ice, and Francis was obliged to put iron clamps on his shoes, in order to prevent himself from slipping. As he suffered terribly from broken chilblains, his heels became in such a state that the blood stained the snow as he walked along, penetrating through his stockings and gaiters. One night he arrived, with his cousin, Louis, at a village where all the doors were closed against him. In vain they knocked and entreated for admission; the inhabitants, who had been prejudiced against them, refused to give them shelter; they crept into the village oven, which was still warm, and there slept.

The winter in Savoy was harsh this year, even more than usual. The roads were completely covered in ice, and Francis had to wear iron clamps on his shoes to avoid slipping. He struggled with painful chilblains, and his heels were in such bad shape that blood stained the snow as he walked, seeping through his socks and gaiters. One night, he and his cousin Louis reached a village where all the doors were shut tight against them. They knocked and pleaded for a place to stay, but the locals, already biased against them, refused to let them in. They ended up sneaking into the village oven, which was still warm, and spent the night there.

On the 17th July, he preached a wonderful sermon at Thonon on the mediation of Jesus Christ. He showed his hearers that the Catholic Church, so far from destroying [Pg 452] this doctrine, as the Protestant asserted, based her whole system upon it. The Calvinist ministers were exasperated at the effect of the sermon, and held a public meeting, in which it was resolved to charge him with sorcery and magic. They even suborned a man to swear that he had seen Francis in communication with devils at a witch's festival. As he was walking through a wood at dusk immediately after this, two men rushed upon him with swords, uttering horrid imprecations. Francis met them with such composure, that they were overcome, and casting themselves at his feet, implored his pardon, alleging as their excuse the orders they had received from the Protestant clergy. The Saint forgave and blessed them, and pursued his road, unmolested. The Calvinists, more furious than ever, hired a body of assassins who came secretly, in the dead of the night to the house in which he lodged. Francis had not yet gone to bed. He was watching and praying in his room, when he heard the tramp of armed men in the street, and their whispered consultation at the door. He quietly slipped into a secret chamber, cleverly concealed by a panel in the wall which had been provided in case of any such emergency, and the assassins hunted through the house from garret to cellar without being able to find him. What promoted the Catholic faith far more than his sermons, was his daily life of never-failing charity. Madame de Boisy at last brought her husband to see and feel the beauty and reality of the mission in which their son was engaged. This was an untold relief to Francis; and from that time, father and mother worked together in forwarding to the utmost of their power the apostolic labours of their son. They gave shelter in the castle of Sales to such of the converts as were compelled to resort to flight in order to escape the fury of the heretics; and it is impossible to exaggerate the tender zeal with which Madame de Boisy [Pg 453] looked after their temporal and spiritual wants. The Saint, in the meanwhile, continued without intermission his pastoral work. As he could not carry the Blessed Sacrament publicly through the streets of Thonon to the sick, he used to take a Host in a little silver pyx in the shape of a triangle, suspended by three little silver chains round his neck, and thus bear our Lord on his breast. Then wrapping himself up in a large cloak, he would walk along very gravely, looking on the ground, without speaking to any one, or raising his hat. This was the sign he had given to the faithful, who no sooner saw him passing in that manner than they left their occupations and silently followed, though at a little distance, so as not to excite hostile observation. It was an intense joy to him to carry the Blessed Sacrament in that way: his flock often remarked that his face on such occasions positively shone with the fire of his love. As prudence still forbade the public sacrifice of the Mass in Thonon, S. Francis used to celebrate it in the little village of Marin, on the other side of the river Drance, in the old church of S. Stephen.

On July 17th, he delivered a powerful sermon in Thonon about the mediation of Jesus Christ. He demonstrated to his audience that the Catholic Church, far from undermining this belief as the Protestants claimed, actually based its entire system on it. The Calvinist ministers were infuriated by the impact of the sermon and held a public meeting, where they decided to accuse him of sorcery and magic. They even bribed a man to falsely swear that he had seen Francis communicating with demons at a witch's festival. While he was walking through a woods at dusk shortly after this, two men attacked him with swords, shouting terrifying curses. Francis faced them with such calmness that they were overwhelmed and fell at his feet, begging for his forgiveness, claiming they were just following orders from the Protestant clergy. The Saint forgave and blessed them, then continued on his way, unharmed. The Calvinists, angrier than ever, hired a group of assassins who secretly came to the house where he was staying in the dead of night. Francis had not yet gone to bed; he was praying in his room when he heard the sound of armed men in the street and their whispered discussions at the door. He quietly slipped into a hidden room behind a panel in the wall that had been prepared for such emergencies, and the assassins searched the house from attic to cellar without being able to find him. What advanced the Catholic faith much more than his sermons was his daily life filled with unwavering charity. Madame de Boisy eventually helped her husband recognize the beauty and truth of the mission their son was undertaking. This was a huge relief for Francis; from that point on, his parents worked together to support their son’s apostolic efforts as much as they could. They offered shelter in the castle of Sales to converts who were forced to flee from the anger of the heretics, and it’s impossible to overstate the loving care with which Madame de Boisy attended to their physical and spiritual needs. Meanwhile, the Saint continued his pastoral work without pause. Since he couldn’t carry the Blessed Sacrament publicly through the streets of Thonon to the sick, he took a Host in a small triangular silver case suspended by three little chains around his neck, carrying our Lord close to his heart. Then, wrapped in a large cloak, he would walk very solemnly, looking at the ground, without speaking to anyone or lifting his hat. This was the signal he had given to the faithful; as soon as they saw him passing this way, they would stop what they were doing and quietly follow him at a distance to avoid drawing unwanted attention. It brought him immense joy to carry the Blessed Sacrament in this manner; his followers often remarked that his face seemed to glow with the fire of his love during these moments. As caution still prohibited the public celebration of Mass in Thonon, S. Francis held it in the small village of Marin, across the river Drance, in the old church of St. Stephen.

On one occasion he went to preach in an old parish church near Allinges; it was S. Stephen's Day, 1595, and he summoned the inhabitants as usual by ringing a bell, but, as it was very bad weather, only seven people came. Some one said to him that it was not worth while his preaching to so small an audience. He replied, "One soul is as precious to me as a thousand;" and he began a most eloquent discourse on the Invocation of Saints, of which he explained the doctrine, and refuted the Protestant objections with great clearness. Among his seven hearers was a magistrate of Thonon who had lately joined the Church, but had been beset by the ministers, who had succeeded in shaking his feeble faith. After the sermon, he threw himself at the feet of S. Francis and exclaimed, "You have saved [Pg 454] my soul this day!" He then declared that he had meditated abjuring his new Catholicism next Thursday; that having heard the bell ring, and seen only half-a-dozen poor peasants obey the summons, and come to the church, he had thought that, if S. Francis were to preach, it would be a proof that he loved souls, but if he did not preach, then he would be convinced that he sought applause. He went on to say that the pains taken by S. Francis to explain to those half-dozen peasants the doctrine of the Communion of Saints, had cleared away his difficulties, and had convinced him of the grand and unutterable truth of the Catholic Church, of which he would ever remain a member. Little by little the work advanced; Francis was given three energetic assistants; for some time the progress was very small, but the great mass of the people were like an avalanche, slowly undermined, to fall in a body at the foot of the Cross.

One day, he went to preach in an old parish church near Allinges; it was St. Stephen's Day, 1595, and he called the locals as usual by ringing a bell, but because the weather was terrible, only seven people showed up. Someone told him it wasn't worth preaching to such a small crowd. He responded, "One soul is just as valuable to me as a thousand," and he began a very passionate sermon on the Invocation of Saints, clearly explaining the doctrine and addressing the Protestant objections. Among his seven listeners was a magistrate from Thonon who had recently joined the Church but had been swayed by ministers who had shaken his fragile faith. After the sermon, he fell at the feet of St. Francis and exclaimed, "You have saved my soul today!" He then stated that he had been thinking of renouncing his new Catholicism the following Thursday; having seen the bell ring and only half a dozen poor peasants respond, he thought that if St. Francis preached, it would show he loved souls, but if he didn’t, it would mean he sought praise. He continued to say that St. Francis's efforts to explain the doctrine of the Communion of Saints to those few peasants had cleared up his doubts and convinced him of the profound and undeniable truth of the Catholic Church, which he would always be a part of. Gradually, the work progressed; Francis was given three enthusiastic helpers; for a while, the advancements were minimal, but the vast number of people were like an avalanche, slowly being undermined, ready to fall in unison at the foot of the Cross.

It would exceed our limits to detail the steps by which S. Francis advanced the cause. Let us turn to the crowning of his labour. In 1597, he celebrated the "Forty Hours" Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament at Thonon. The churches of S. Augustine and S. Hippolytus had been given up to the Catholics, and the Bishop arrived to consecrate them anew, and to administer the Sacraments of Confirmation and Ordination for the first time for sixty-three years. An enormous crowd assembled from all quarters. After the Blessed Sacrament had been carried in procession through the town, it was placed in an oratory erected for the purpose. Very soon a crowd came up, consisting of three hundred people, inhabitants of Bellevaux, all begging to be admitted into the Church. The inhabitants of S. Cergue arrived next, bearing with them a cross which had been concealed by them between two walls during the Calvinist persecution, and which cross remains in the hamlet to this day. Some of these poor people arrived barefoot bearing other emblems [Pg 455] of the Passion of our Lord, the spear, the nails, the crown of thorns. Then came the people of Bonneville, with the nobility of the Chablais. One portion of the procession arrived later than the rest, and that was from the village of Ternier. They had been attacked by the fanatics of Geneva on their way. During the "Forty Hours" of Adoration, prayers, meditations, catechizings, and sermons succeeded each other without intermission. The personal love which all the people felt for S. Francis, together with his tender and touching exhortations, gave an additional impulse to the devotion of the spectators. Whole villages took the opportunity of returning to the faith of their fathers; and when the Exposition was over, the Bishop and S. Francis had several hard days' work in receiving such numberless abjurations and administering to them the rites of conditional baptism and confirmation.

It would be too much to detail all the steps S. Francis took to promote his cause. Let's focus on the culmination of his efforts. In 1597, he celebrated the "Forty Hours" Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament in Thonon. The churches of S. Augustine and S. Hippolytus had been returned to the Catholics, and the Bishop came to bless them again and to administer the Sacraments of Confirmation and Ordination for the first time in sixty-three years. A huge crowd gathered from all around. After the Blessed Sacrament was carried in procession through the town, it was placed in an oratory built for this purpose. Soon, a group of three hundred residents from Bellevaux showed up, all asking to be let into the Church. Next, the people of S. Cergue arrived, bringing a cross that they had hidden between two walls during the Calvinist persecution, which still remains in the village today. Some of these poor individuals arrived barefoot, carrying other symbols of the Passion of our Lord, such as the spear, the nails, and the crown of thorns. Then came the people from Bonneville, along with the nobility of the Chablais. One group from the village of Ternier arrived later than the others because they had been attacked by the fanatics from Geneva on their way. During the "Forty Hours" of Adoration, prayers, meditations, catechism classes, and sermons followed one after another without a break. The deep affection everyone felt for S. Francis, combined with his heartfelt and moving exhortations, inspired even greater devotion among the crowd. Entire villages took this opportunity to return to the faith of their ancestors; and when the Exposition ended, the Bishop and S. Francis worked for several hard days receiving countless renunciations and administering the rites of conditional baptism and confirmation.

On September 30th, the Duke of Savoy visited Thonon, and the Chablais ceased to be Protestant. Few heretics now remained, and the Duke ordered them to cross the lake to the land of Vaud, as the Calvinists before had expelled those who would not submit to the abolition of their religion. The spiritual conquest achieved by Francis has been commonly reckoned to have amounted to 72,000 souls.

On September 30th, the Duke of Savoy visited Thonon, and the Chablais stopped being Protestant. Only a few heretics were left, and the Duke ordered them to cross the lake to the land of Vaud, just like the Calvinists had previously expelled those who wouldn’t accept the end of their religion. The spiritual conquest accomplished by Francis is generally estimated to have reached 72,000 souls.

In 1599, S. Francis was appointed coadjutor bishop of Geneva. The continual disputes between France and Savoy were at length adjusted by a treaty contracted at Lyons, by which the latter government yielded to the former the province of Gex to the north of the lake of Geneva, containing thirty-seven parishes, with about 30,000 inhabitants. S. Francis visited Paris in 1602, and persuaded Henry IV. to re-establish the exercise of the Catholic religion throughout Gex, wherever there were a sufficient number of Catholics; only the king stipulated that this should be done gradually, so as to avoid giving alarm to the Protestants.

In 1599, St. Francis was appointed coadjutor bishop of Geneva. The ongoing conflicts between France and Savoy were finally settled by a treaty signed in Lyon, where the Savoy government ceded the province of Gex to France, which is located to the north of Lake Geneva and comprises thirty-seven parishes with approximately 30,000 residents. In 1602, St. Francis visited Paris and convinced Henry IV to reinstate the practice of the Catholic faith throughout Gex, wherever there were enough Catholics; however, the king insisted that this should happen gradually to avoid startling the Protestants.

Francis now returned to Savoy, where the failing health of the aged Bishop of Geneva made it necessary for him to be present. Some time previous to his death, he had the consolation of celebrating the jubilee at Thonon, by which the history of the conversion of the Chablais was wound up. Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims of all ranks, in companies preceded by cross and banner, poured from all the country round, making the Alpine valleys resound with their pious chants, as they thanked God for having brought them out of darkness into the glorious liberty of the children of God. More than a hundred confessors were engaged continually at the tribunal of penance; and altogether 62,000 communions were made in the church of Thonon. On Dec. 8th, 1702, Francis was consecrated bishop, and appointed to the see of Geneva, in the parish church of Thonon.

Francis returned to Savoy, where the declining health of the elderly Bishop of Geneva required his presence. Before the bishop passed away, he had the comfort of celebrating the jubilee at Thonon, marking the conclusion of the Chablais conversion story. Hundreds of thousands of pilgrims from all walks of life, led by a cross and banner, streamed in from the surrounding areas, filling the Alpine valleys with their heartfelt songs as they thanked God for bringing them from darkness into the glorious freedom of being God's children. More than a hundred confessors were constantly at the confessional, and in total, 62,000 communions were administered in the church of Thonon. On December 8, 1702, Francis was consecrated as bishop and appointed to the see of Geneva at the parish church of Thonon.

The first business which Francis undertook after he was settled at Annecy, the seat of the Bishops of Geneva, after their expulsion by the Calvinists from the city of Geneva, was to establish a confraternity of Christian Doctrine, and to make catechetical instruction his strongest point. He heard the classes himself every Sunday. A more interesting sight there could not be than to behold him, seated in front of the altar, teaching the little ones, the girls on one side, and the boys on the other. Twice in the year he made a festival for the children, and went through the city with them processionally, singing Litanies. The influence of his kindness over them was so great, that he never came forth, without the children running out from every nook and corner of the streets to ask his blessing or kiss his robe. When some friends complained of the troops of them who followed him, he said gently, "Suffer them to come, they are my own dear little people."

The first thing Francis did after settling in Annecy, the home of the Bishops of Geneva, following their expulsion from the city by the Calvinists, was to set up a confraternity of Christian Doctrine and focus on catechetical instruction. He personally taught the classes every Sunday. It was a more interesting sight than anything else to see him seated in front of the altar, teaching the little ones, with the girls on one side and the boys on the other. Twice a year, he organized a festival for the children and processed through the city with them, singing Litanies. His kindness had such a profound influence that he could never go out without children running from every corner of the streets to ask for his blessing or kiss his robe. When some friends complained about the crowds of them following him, he gently replied, "Let them come, they are my dear little ones."

In 1603, when he was preaching the Lent course of sermons at Dijon, by invitation of the magistrates, he made the [Pg 457] acquaintance of Jane Frances of Chantal, in combination with whom he afterwards founded the Order of the Visitation. In 1605 and 1606, he made a general visitation of his whole diocese, undergoing great fatigue, and often danger, in traversing the Alpine districts, which formed the greatest part of it, and everywhere preaching, catechizing, and hearing confessions. In 1618, Francis was chosen by the Duke of Savoy to accompany an embassy to Paris to negotiate the marriage of his son with the daughter of Henry IV., and sister of Louis XIII. The negotiations of the embassy lasted for nearly a year, during which Francis received incessant invitations to preach, which he did almost daily; the people never tiring of listening to him. The secret of his power lay in the exquisite charm of divine grace which radiated from him. The churches were so crowded, that it more than once happened that a ladder had to be brought for the preacher to enter by the window, the doors being completely blocked up. People ran to gaze at him, or to touch his robe as he passed in the streets. Cardinal de Retz, Bishop of Paris, had set his heart on having him as his coadjutor, and offered him a rich pension, the entire control of his diocese, and the appointment of his brother, John Francis, to succeed him at Geneva, if he would consent to come; but all was in vain.

In 1603, while he was preaching a series of Lent sermons in Dijon at the request of the city officials, he met Jane Frances of Chantal, with whom he later founded the Order of the Visitation. In 1605 and 1606, he conducted a comprehensive visitation of his entire diocese, often facing great exhaustion and risk while traveling through the Alpine regions, which comprised the majority of it. He preached, taught catechism, and heard confessions everywhere he went. In 1618, Francis was chosen by the Duke of Savoy to join an embassy to Paris to negotiate the marriage of his son to the daughter of Henry IV and sister of Louis XIII. The diplomatic discussions lasted almost a year, during which Francis constantly received invitations to preach, which he accepted almost daily; the audience was always eager to hear him. The source of his influence was the incredible charm of divine grace that emanated from him. The churches were so packed that on more than one occasion, a ladder had to be brought so he could enter through the window, as the doors were completely blocked. People rushed to see him or to touch his robe as he walked through the streets. Cardinal de Retz, Bishop of Paris, was eager to have him as his coadjutor, offering him a generous pension, complete control of his diocese, and the appointment of his brother, John Francis, to succeed him in Geneva, but all of his efforts were in vain.

By degrees the whole of the territory of Gex was catholicized, and Francis had the felicity of continually organizing fresh parishes which had submitted to the Gospel of Christ. Towards the close of 1622, he was invited to attend the Duke of Savoy at Avignon, where he was to meet Louis XIII. Francis had a presentiment that this journey would be his last; but he did not think it right to decline the invitation of his sovereign. Accordingly he made preparation, with the utmost calmness, as if to return no more. He made his will, and gave directions concerning his funeral, which he desired [Pg 458] should be modest. On November 8th he bade farewell to his friends and started next day. At Lyons a trifling incident happened, which is worth relating, as an example of his sweet and gentle demeanour. As he was going on board the boat, the ferryman refused to receive him without his passport. When his attendants were angry at the delay, the bishop remarked, "Let him alone, he knows the duties of a boatman; we have forgotten that of a traveller." He had to wait an hour for the passport in a bitterly cold wind. When at last they got on board, he went and sat by the boatman, observing, "I wish to make friends with this good man, and to talk to him a little of our Blessed Lord."

Gradually, the entire territory of Gex became Catholic, and Francis took great joy in continually establishing new parishes that accepted the Gospel of Christ. Near the end of 1622, he was invited to meet the Duke of Savoy in Avignon, where he would also see Louis XIII. Francis had a feeling that this trip would be his last, but he felt it was important to accept his sovereign's invitation. So, he prepared himself with complete calmness as if he wouldn’t return. He made his will and arranged for his funeral, which he wished to be simple. On November 8th, he said goodbye to his friends and departed the next day. In Lyons, a minor incident occurred that’s worth mentioning, as it highlights his kind and gentle nature. As he was boarding the boat, the ferryman refused to take him without his passport. When his attendants became frustrated with the delay, the bishop said, "Leave him be; he knows his job as a ferryman, and we’ve forgotten our role as travelers." He had to wait an hour for the passport in a biting cold wind. When they finally got on board, he went and sat next to the boatman, saying, "I want to befriend this good man and talk to him a bit about our Blessed Lord."

At Avignon he held aloof from all the magnificence which the reunion of two courts in that splendid age so lavishly displayed, and spent his time in prayer, and in conference with religious persons. On his way home he remained at Lyons, very ill. Nevertheless he said his midnight Mass on Christmas morning and preached on the day with great fervour. He then heard confessions, and said his third Mass shortly before noon, after which he broke his fast. Then he gave the habit to two novices, preached, received a number of visitors, and waited on the Queen Marie de Medicis, who was to leave Lyons next day. Yet he was actually a dying man when he thus crowded such astonishing exertions into one day. Next day, the Feast of S. Stephen, he bade his last farewell to the nuns of the Visitation, the order he had founded. On the following morning he confessed, said Mass, and gave the Holy Communion to the nuns. The Superioress noticed his altered looks. Outside the church he was detained talking to some noblemen. It was cold and foggy, and he felt a chill. By the time he got home he was excessively fatigued and ill; but he sat down to write letters, and received several visitors. On their departure his servant came in, and began to tell him about a sermon he [Pg 459] had heard, in which the preacher exhorted the Queen to love her servants. Francis said, "And you, do you love me?" The good servant could not speak for weeping, seeing how deadly ill he looked. The saint continued: "And I, too, love you well; but let us love God above all," As he said these words he sank back in a fit. Next day the physicians resorted to all the expedients used in the barbarous surgery of the age, blisters on the head, the application of a hot iron to the nape of the neck, and a red-hot ball pressed on the crown till it burnt to the bone. He gradually sank after these operations, and his lips moving in prayer, when unable to utter words, those in attendance knelt and recited the "Recommendation for a departing soul," during which his gentle spirit departed to its rest.

In Avignon, he stayed away from all the splendor that the gathering of two courts in that magnificent era showcased, dedicating his time to prayer and discussions with religious individuals. On his way home, he stopped in Lyons and was very sick. Still, he celebrated his midnight Mass on Christmas morning and preached with great passion that day. He then heard confessions and said his third Mass just before noon, after which he broke his fast. He also gave the habit to two novices, preached, welcomed several visitors, and attended to Queen Marie de Medicis, who was set to leave Lyons the next day. Yet he was truly a dying man when he packed such remarkable activities into one day. The next day, on the Feast of St. Stephen, he said his final goodbye to the nuns of the Visitation, the order he had established. The following morning, he confessed, celebrated Mass, and offered Holy Communion to the nuns. The Superioress noticed his changed appearance. Outside the church, he was held up talking to some noblemen. It was cold and foggy, and he felt a chill. By the time he returned home, he was extremely tired and unwell; however, he sat down to write letters and received several visitors. After they left, his servant came in and started telling him about a sermon he had heard, where the preacher urged the Queen to care for her servants. Francis asked, "And you, do you love me?" The loyal servant couldn’t speak for crying, seeing how gravely ill he looked. The saint replied, "And I, too, love you well; but let’s love God above all." As he spoke these words, he collapsed in a fit. The next day, the doctors resorted to all the primitive surgical methods of the time, using blisters on the head, applying a hot iron to the nape of the neck, and pressing a red-hot ball against his crown until it burned to the bone. He gradually weakened after these procedures, and as his lips moved in prayer, unable to articulate words, those present knelt and recited the "Recommendation for a departing soul," during which his gentle spirit left for its rest.

The body, after having been embalmed, was removed to Annecy, and reposes in the Church of the Visitation.

The body, after being embalmed, was taken to Annecy and now rests in the Church of the Visitation.

FOOTNOTES:

[133] The following life is epitomized from Mr. Ormsby's "Life of S. Francis of Sales," and "The Mission of S. Francis of Sales in the Chablais" by Lady Herbert. See also Addenda at end of this volume.

[133] The following narrative is summarized from Mr. Ormsby's "Life of St. Francis of Sales" and "The Mission of St. Francis of Sales in the Chablais" by Lady Herbert. Also, refer to the Addenda at the end of this volume.


January 30.

S. Serena, M., at Metz, a.d. 303.
S. Sabina or Savina, W., in the Milanese, beginning 4th cent.
S. Barsas, B.C., of Edessa, circ. a.d. 371.
S. Felix, Pope, a.d. 530.
S. Aldegund, V., at Maubeuge in France, circ. a.d. 680.
S. Adelelm, Ab., Burgos, circ. a.d. 1100.
S. Hyacintha, V., at Viterbo, a.d. 1640.

St. Serena, M., in Metz, A.D. 303.
St. Sabina or Savina, W., in Milan, early 4th century.
St. Barsas, B.C., from Edessa, around A.D. 371.
St. Felix, Pope, A.D. 530.
St. Aldegund, V., in Maubeuge, France, around A.D. 680.
St. Adelelm, Abbot, in Burgos, around A.D. 1100.
St. Hyacintha, V., in Viterbo, A.D. 1640.

S. BARSAS, B.C. OF EDESSA.

(about a.d. 371.)

(around A.D. 371.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authority: Theodoret, Hist. Eccles. lib. iv. c. 16.]

[Roman Martyrology. Source: Theodoret, Hist. Eccles. book iv, chapter 16.]

B.

arses or Barsas, Bishop of Edessa was banished by the Arian Emperor Valens to the Isle of Aradus; but when it was found that multitudes resorted to him, for he was filled with apostolic gifts, the emperor sent him to Oxyrynchus, a city of Egypt But as his fame still attracted attention, he was banished to a greater distance; and this old man, "who was worthy of heaven, was then conveyed to the fortress called Philæ, situated on the frontier of the barbarian nations."

Arses, or Barsas, the Bishop of Edessa, was exiled by the Arian Emperor Valens to the Isle of Aradus. However, when it became clear that many people came to see him because he was filled with apostolic gifts, the emperor sent him to Oxyrynchus, a city in Egypt. But as his reputation continued to grow, he was exiled even further away. This old man, "who was worthy of heaven, was then taken to the fortress called Philæ, located on the edge of the barbarian nations."

S. ALDEGUND, V.

(a.d. 680.)

(A.D. 680.)

[Roman and many ancient Martyrologies; by others on Jan. 27th, or Nov. 13th, but these were probably days of translation of relics. Authorities; a life by a contemporary quoted in an anonymous life compiled from already existing notices; another by one Hugbald, and another by a monk of S. Ghislain.]

[Roman and various ancient Martyrologies; by others on Jan. 27th, or Nov. 13th, but these were likely days for the translation of relics. Sources include a biography by a contemporary referenced in an anonymous life compiled from existing records; another by someone named Hugbald, and one more by a monk from S. Ghislain.]

S. ALDEGUND.

The blessed Aldegund was the daughter of Waldbert, Count of Hainault. Her whole heart was given to Christ whom she chose as her heavenly bridegroom. Her parents, moved by her example, renounced the world, and distributed their wealth among the poor. After their death, in the year 661, Aldegund took the veil, and retired into the forest of Maubeuge where she built a convent, and became the first abbess. When her fair fame was attacked by wicked slanders, so that she suffered agonies of grief, she struggled hard to submit to the hand of God, and at last, bowing completely to His will, she desired that He would try her with ever keener sufferings, to perfect her by affliction. She was shortly after attacked with cancer in the breast, from which she died on Jan. 30th, a.d. 680.

The blessed Aldegund was the daughter of Waldbert, Count of Hainault. She devoted her whole heart to Christ, whom she chose as her heavenly bridegroom. Her parents, inspired by her example, gave up worldly pursuits and shared their wealth with the poor. After they passed away in the year 661, Aldegund took the veil and retreated into the forest of Maubeuge, where she built a convent and became the first abbess. When her good reputation was tarnished by malicious slander, causing her deep grief, she worked hard to submit to God's will. Eventually, she fully accepted His plan and expressed a desire for Him to test her with even greater sufferings to refine her through hardship. Shortly afterward, she was diagnosed with cancer in her breast, from which she died on January 30th, A.D. 680.

S. ADELELM, AB. OF BURGOS.

(about a.d. 1100.)

(around A.D. 1100.)

[Authority: his life by Rudolf the monk, who died 1137. S. Adelelm is called also Elesmo or Elmo; and is not to be confounded with another Adelelm or Elmo, who is only beatified.]

[Authority: his life by Rudolf the monk, who died in 1137. St. Adelelm is also known as Elesmo or Elmo; and should not be confused with another Adelelm or Elmo, who is only beatified.]

S. Adelelm was a noble of Lyons in France, and served in the army, till God called him to a higher walk, then he renounced the world, and became a monk in the Abbey of Chaise-Dieu, after a visit to Rome. He was ordained priest by Ranco, Bishop of the Auvergne, but when he heard that the bishop had been suspended for having simonically obtained the see, he refused to execute the priestly office, till a successor was appointed. To see him, Adelelm started one stormy night. The way was dark, and the tempest raged with such fury that, but that it was necessary, he would not have started then. However, he took a candle, lighted it, and gave it to his comrade, and bade him lead the way. Notwithstanding the violence of the gale, the flame burnt steady, [Pg 462] though not enclosed in a lantern, and illumined their road. From this, the electric lights seen at mastheads are called by sailors in the Mediterranean S. Elmo's lights. He was afterwards invited to Spain, and he was chosen abbot of his order in the monastery of Burgos, where he died.

S. Adelelm was a noble from Lyons in France and served in the army until God called him to a higher purpose. He then renounced the world and became a monk at the Abbey of Chaise-Dieu after visiting Rome. He was ordained as a priest by Ranco, the Bishop of Auvergne, but when he learned that the bishop had been suspended for improperly obtaining the position, he refused to perform his priestly duties until a new bishop was appointed. One stormy night, he set out to see the bishop. The path was dark, and the storm raged so fiercely that he wouldn’t have left if it weren’t necessary. Nevertheless, he lit a candle, handed it to his companion, and asked him to lead the way. Despite the intensity of the wind, the flame burned steadily, [Pg 462] even though it wasn't in a lantern, and lit their path. Because of this, sailors in the Mediterranean refer to the electric lights seen at mastheads as S. Elmo's lights. He was later invited to Spain and was chosen as the abbot of his order at the monastery of Burgos, where he passed away.

S. HYACINTHA, V.

(a.d. 1640.)

(A.D. 1640.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authority: the Bull of her Canonization.]

[Roman Martyrology. Authority: the Bull of her Canonization.]

S. Hyacintha was the daughter of Mark Anthony Mariscotti, Count of Vignanello, and of Octavia Orsini; she was born in 1588, and received in baptism the name of Clarissa, which she exchanged for that of Hyacintha on entering the cloister.

S. Hyacintha was the daughter of Mark Anthony Mariscotti, Count of Vignanello, and Octavia Orsini. She was born in 1588 and was given the name Clarissa at her baptism, which she changed to Hyacintha upon entering the convent.

In her earliest childhood she was remarkable for her piety, but as she grew older she became giddy and frivolous. In her 17th year she was, one day, playing with the rope of a well at Vignanello, when she slipped over the edge, and hung, entangled in the rope, which held her some minutes suspended above the horrible pit, till a servant, observing her peril, from the castle window, ran to her assistance, and rescued her. The shock of this accident seemed for a while to steady her. She shortly after fell in love, and a marriage was projected, but when, through family circumstances, it was broken off, Clarissa would hear of nothing but of taking the veil, and burying her broken heart in a convent. Her father refused at first, but yielding at length to her sentimental vehemence, which he mistook for real vocation, allowed her to take the veil in the convent of S. Bernardine at Viterbo.

In her early childhood, she was known for her piety, but as she grew older, she became playful and carefree. At 17, one day while she was playing with the rope of a well in Vignanello, she lost her balance and fell over the edge, getting tangled in the rope, which held her suspended for several minutes above the deep pit until a servant, noticing her danger from a castle window, rushed to help and saved her. The shock of this incident seemed to stabilize her for a while. Soon after, she fell in love, and there were plans for a marriage, but when family circumstances led to its cancellation, Clarissa insisted on taking the veil and hiding her broken heart in a convent. Initially, her father refused, but eventually, he gave in to her passionate insistence, mistaking it for a true calling, and allowed her to enter the convent of S. Bernardine in Viterbo.

In the convent her heart soon healed, and she became an [Pg 463] annoyance to the whole sisterhood by her vanity and frivolity. After ten years, she fell ill, and sent for her confessor. He, knowing her character, and wearied with her shallowness, sharply rebuked her with, "Beware, Hyacintha, heaven is no place for giddy-pates!" His words startled her, and she cried out, "Am I then lost for ever."

In the convent, her heart quickly mended, and she became an [Pg 463] annoyance to all the sisters because of her vanity and silliness. After ten years, she got sick and called for her confessor. He, aware of her personality and tired of her superficiality, scolded her sharply, saying, "Be careful, Hyacintha, heaven isn't a place for airheads!" His words shocked her, and she exclaimed, "Am I then lost forever?"

"No," he answered, "not if you seek pardon for your sins of the just and merciful God, with sincere resolution of amendment, and cease to be a scandal and worry to the poor sisters of this house, by your emptiness and light talk, and worldly ways." Bursting into a flood of tears, she promised amendment, sent for all the sisters, and humbly asked their pardon, and prayers. Then she cast herself at her confessor's feet, and made a sincere confession. She now completely changed her life; she would not wear shoes, and only put on the meanest dress. She strove manfully to overcome the purposelessness of her life and the feebleness of her will; and as she gradually mastered herself and her vanity, there broke on that soul, so long entangled in a fog of petty cares and pleasures, the burning sun of the love of Jesus, filling her with reality, earnestness, and devotion. In after years her character was completely the reverse of what it had been, was full of dignity and meekness, and above all, had a purpose in it. In a time of want, she founded two institutions, one for the secret relief of decayed gentlefolks, suffering, but too proud to ask alms, or display their misery; the other a hospital for old people. Both societies, known under the name of the Oblates of S. Mary, exist to this day at Viterbo.

"No," he replied, "not if you truly seek forgiveness from the just and merciful God, with a genuine commitment to change, and stop being a burden and worry to the poor sisters in this house, with your empty chatter and worldly ways." Overwhelmed with emotion, she promised to change, called for all the sisters, and humbly asked for their forgiveness and prayers. Then, she fell at her confessor's feet and made an honest confession. She completely transformed her life; she refused to wear shoes and only wore the simplest dress. She fought hard to overcome the aimlessness of her life and her weak will; as she gradually gained control over herself and her vanity, the bright sun of Jesus' love broke through her soul, long caught in a haze of trivial concerns and pleasures, filling her with authenticity, seriousness, and devotion. In later years, her character was the complete opposite of what it had been, filled with dignity and humility, and above all, it had a purpose. In a time of need, she established two organizations, one for discreetly helping fallen gentlefolk who were suffering but too proud to beg, and another for the elderly. Both groups, known as the Oblates of St. Mary, still exist today in Viterbo.

The mercy of God rewarded this poor servant, and she was given singular privileges, a remarkable gift of prayer, and a discernment of spirits, that is, she could read the troubles of hearts. She died in the year 1640, calling on the sacred names of Jesus and Mary, in the 55th year of her [Pg 464] age.

The mercy of God rewarded this humble servant with unique privileges, an exceptional gift of prayer, and the ability to discern spirits, meaning she could understand the struggles of people's hearts. She passed away in 1640, calling on the holy names of Jesus and Mary, at the age of 55. [Pg 464]

She was beatified by Benedict XIII., in 1726, and canonized by Pius VII., on May 24th, 1807.

She was beatified by Benedict XIII. in 1726 and canonized by Pius VII on May 24, 1807.

This is one of those instances of the love and fore-thought of the Church in holding up to every class of mind and sort of temptation, an example of salvation in it. We have seen her fearlessness in exhibiting S. James the hermit to the fallen religious, here she shows to the thoughtless and giddy female mind, that for it Jesus thirsts in spite of its emptiness, and that for it there is sanctity if it will try to seek it.

This is one of those moments when the Church shows its love and consideration by presenting an example of salvation for everyone, regardless of their mindset or temptations. We’ve seen her courage in showcasing St. James the hermit to fallen believers; here, she demonstrates to the careless and flighty female mind that Jesus longs for it, despite its emptiness, and that there is holiness if it seeks to find it.

Virgin in Crescent, after Albert Durer. Virgin in Crescent, by Albert Durer.


January 31.

S.S. Cyrus, John, Athanasia and Others, MM. in Egypt a.d. 250.
S. Geminian, B. of Modena, in Italy.
S. Julius P., and Julian D., at Novara, in Italy, beginning of 5th cent.
S. Marcella, W., at Rome, a.d. 410.
S. Patroclus, B.M. in France.
S. Gaud, B., of Evreux in Normandy, circ. a.d. 531.
S. Aidan or Maidoc, B., of Ferns, in Ireland, beginning of 7th cent.
S. Adamnan, P., of Coldingham, end of 7th cent.
S. Ulphia, V., at Amiens, 8th cent.
S. Athanasius, B., of Methone in the Peloponesus, 9th cent.
S. Eusebius, Monk of S. Gall in Switzerland, a.d. 884.
S. Martin, P., of Soure near Coimbra, in Portugal, a.d. 1147.
S. Serapion, M., among the Moors, a.d. 1240.
S. Peter Nolasco, C., in Spain, a.d. 1256.

S.S. Cyrus, John, Athanasia and Others, Martyrs in Egypt A.D. 250.
S. Geminian, Bishop of Modena, Italy.
S. Julius Priest, and Julian Deacon, in Novara, Italy, early 5th century
S. Marcella, Virgin, in Rome, A.D. 410.
S. Patroclus, Bishop and Martyr in France.
S. Gaud, Bishop of Evreux in Normandy, around A.D. 531.
S. Aidan or Maidoc, Bishop of Ferns, Ireland, early 7th century
S. Adamnan, Priest of Coldingham, late 7th century
S. Ulphia, Virgin, in Amiens, 8th century
S. Athanasius, Bishop of Methone in the Peloponnese, 9th century
S. Eusebius, Monk of St. Gall in Switzerland, A.D. 884.
S. Martin, Priest of Soure near Coimbra, Portugal, A.D. 1147.
S. Serapion, Martyr among the Moors, A.D. 1240.
S. Peter Nolasco, Confessor, in Spain, A.D. 1256.

S.S. CYRUS, JOHN AND OTHERS, MM., IN EGYPT.

(a.d. 250.)

(A.D. 250.)

[Commemorated by Greeks, Latins, and Copts on the same day. Authority: ancient Greek Acts.]

[Observed by Greeks, Latins, and Copts on the same day. Authority: ancient Greek Acts.]

C.

yrus, a physician of Alexandria, who, by the opportunities which his profession gave him, had converted many sick persons to the faith; and John, an Arabian, hearing that a lady, called Athanasia, and her three daughters, Theodosia, Theoctista and Eudoxia, of whom the eldest was only fifteen years of age, had suffered torments at Canope in Egypt for the name of Christ, went thither to console them. They were themselves apprehended and cruelly beaten; their sides were burnt with torches, and salt and vinegar were poured into their wounds in the presence of Anastasia and her daughters, who were also tortured after them. At length the four ladies, and a few days after, Cyrus and John, were beheaded, the [Pg 466] two latter on this day.

Cyrus, a doctor from Alexandria, who, through his work, had converted many sick people to the faith; and John, an Arabian, heard that a woman named Athanasia and her three daughters, Theodosia, Theoctista, and Eudoxia, the oldest of whom was just fifteen, had endured torture in Canope, Egypt for the name of Christ. He went there to comfort them. They were captured and brutally beaten; their sides were burned with torches, and salt and vinegar were poured into their wounds in front of Anastasia and her daughters, who were also tortured afterward. Eventually, the four women, and a few days later, Cyrus and John, were beheaded, the latter two on this day. [Pg 466]

S. MARCELLA, W.

(a.d. 410.)

(A.D. 410.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authority: the Letters of S. Jerome.]

[Roman Martyrology. Source: the Letters of St. Jerome.]

Marcella, a young widow, whose name alone is enough to recall the best days of the Roman republic, and whose rare beauty, enhanced by the long and illustrious line of her ancestors, drew around her numerous suitors, rejected the suit of Cerealtis, the consul, and resolved to imitate the lives of the ascetics of the East. Afterwards, when S. Jerome came to Rome to renew the instructions and narratives of those holy men by adding to them the living commentary of his own life, Marcella, with her mother Albinia, and her sister Asella, placed herself at the head of that select number of illustrious matrons who took him as their guide and oracle. She astonished the holy doctor by her knowledge of the Divine Scriptures; she fatigued him by her thirst always to know more of them than he could teach her; she made him afraid to find in her a judge rather than a disciple. In her palace on Mount Aventine, she collected, under the presidency of Jerome, the most pious among the noble ladies, for mutual strength and enlightenment. After having thus first given to Rome the true model of a Christian widow, she passed the last thirty years of her life in her suburban villa transformed into a monastery. The Goths under Alaric plundered Rome in 410. S. Marcella was scourged by them to deliver up her treasures, which however she had long before distributed among the poor. All the while she was in anguish of soul for her dear spiritual child Principia, and falling at the feet of the cruel soldiers, she tearfully implored them to spare her insult. They conducted them both to the Church of S. Paul, to which Alaric had granted the right of sanctuary, and suffered the beautiful young nun Principia to remain unmolested. S. Marcella did not survive this long, but died peacefully in the arms of Principia, about the end of August, 410, but her name occurs in the Roman Martyrology on Jan. 31st.

Marcella, a young widow whose name alone brings back the best days of the Roman Republic, and whose stunning beauty, enhanced by her long and distinguished family lineage, attracted many suitors, turned down the advances of Cerealtis, the consul, and decided to live like the ascetics of the East. Later, when St. Jerome came to Rome to share the teachings and stories of those holy men, adding insights from his own life, Marcella, along with her mother Albinia and her sister Asella, took the lead among a select group of esteemed women who made him their guide and mentor. She amazed the holy doctor with her knowledge of the Scriptures; her constant desire to learn more than he could teach left him exhausted and somewhat intimidated, fearing she would judge him rather than be a student. In her home on Mount Aventine, she gathered the most devout noblewomen under Jerome's leadership for mutual support and enlightenment. After establishing a true model of a Christian widow in Rome, she spent the last thirty years of her life in her suburban villa, which had been turned into a monastery. The Goths, led by Alaric, sacked Rome in 410. St. Marcella was forced by them to give up her treasures, which she had long ago distributed to the poor. Amidst this turmoil, she felt deep anguish for her beloved spiritual child, Principia, and fell at the feet of the ruthless soldiers, pleading tearfully for mercy. They took both of them to the Church of St. Paul, which Alaric had granted the right of sanctuary, allowing the beautiful young nun Principia to go unharmed. St. Marcella did not live much longer, passing away peacefully in the arms of Principia around the end of August 410, but her name appears in the Roman Martyrology on January 31st.

S. MARCELLA.

S. AIDAN OR MAIDOC, B., OF FERNS.

(about a.d. 632.)

(about A.D. 632.)

[S. Aidan of Ferns is not to be confounded with the illustrious S. Aidan of Lindisfarne, the apostle of Northumbria, who is commemorated on Aug. 31st. The name seems to have been a very common one in Ireland, for Colgan asserts that there are in the ancient Irish Martyrologies as many as thirty-five Saints of this name. Authority: an ancient life from Kilkenny, but certainly not more ancient than the 12th cent.]

Saint Aidan of Ferns should not be mistaken for the well-known Saint Aidan of Lindisfarne, the apostle of Northumbria, who is celebrated on August 31st. The name seems to have been fairly common in Ireland, as Colgan states there are up to thirty-five saints with this name in the ancient Irish Martyrologies. Source: an old life from Kilkenny, but definitely not older than the 12th century.

S. Maidoc or Aidan was the son of Setna, a noble of Connaught, by his wife Edna; who, having for a long time no heir, sought that blessing from God by alms-deeds and prayers; which was at last granted. This child of prayer was born in the island called Innis-Breagh-muigh, in a lake in the diocese of Kilmore, and from his childhood declined evil and followed that which is good. After having learnt the first rudiments of piety in his own country, he left home, and sailed into Britain, to place himself under the discipline of the great S. David of Menevia. With that holy man he remained many years, and was one of his favourite disciples. A remarkable instance of his prompt obedience is related. Being called by a superior from reading his book in the field near the monastery, to follow a pair of oxen at the plough, he made such haste to obey, that he left his book open in the field, a heavy shower of rain fell, but when he recovered the book it was not wet. S. David had seen him leave the volume open before the rain fell, and calling him to him, bade him prostrate himself as a punishment for having, as he supposed, by his carelessness, spoiled a valuable [Pg 468] book. S. Maidoc at once obeyed, and S. David went about his work and forgat him. After some hours, when the office was being said, he observed that Maidoc was not present. Then he sent in quest of him, and he was found prostrate on the sea shore, where his master had bidden him lie, and he had not risen, because S. David had not removed his penance.

S. Maidoc, or Aidan, was the son of Setna, a nobleman from Connaught, and his wife Edna. After a long time without an heir, they prayed and gave alms to seek a blessing from God, which was eventually granted. This child of prayer was born on the island called Innis-Breagh-muigh, in a lake within the diocese of Kilmore, and from a young age, he turned away from evil and pursued goodness. After learning the basics of piety in his homeland, he left home and sailed to Britain to study under the guidance of the great S. David of Menevia. He spent many years with that holy man and became one of his favorite disciples. A notable example of his quick obedience is recounted: when called by a superior while reading in the field near the monastery to follow a pair of oxen at the plow, he rushed to obey so quickly that he left his book open in the field. A heavy rain shower fell, but when he retrieved the book, it was completely dry. S. David had seen him leave the book open before the rain started and, calling him over, instructed him to lie down as a punishment for, as he thought, carelessly ruining a valuable book. S. Maidoc immediately complied, and S. David got back to his work, forgetting about him. After several hours, during the office, S. David noticed that Maidoc was missing. He then sent someone to find him, and he was discovered lying prostrate on the seashore, just as his master had ordered, and he hadn’t gotten up because S. David hadn't lifted his penance.

At length, with the blessing of his master, taking with him other religious of Menevia, he returned to Ireland, where he founded many churches and monasteries; of which the chief was Ferns to which he was consecrated first Bishop. The prodigies related of him, are like so many in the lives of the Irish Saints, quite incredible, as for instance, his having driven to Rome and back in twenty-four hours, his having fed six wolves with six sheep and then restored the sheep whole; his having brought a sea-cow out of the ocean to draw his plough, and having returned from a visit to S. David in Wales on the back of a sea-monster; his having called his bell, which he had left behind him Wales, and it came over the waves with promptitude.

Finally, with his master’s blessing and accompanied by other monks from Menevia, he returned to Ireland, where he founded many churches and monasteries, the most important being Ferns, where he was consecrated the first Bishop. The miraculous events attributed to him are, like many stories about Irish Saints, quite unbelievable. For example, he supposedly made a round trip to Rome in just twenty-four hours, fed six wolves with six sheep and then returned the sheep unharmed, brought a sea-cow from the ocean to pull his plow, and returned from a visit to St. David in Wales riding on the back of a sea-monster. He even called for his bell, which he had left in Wales, and it came to him promptly over the waves.

All these are fables, which accumulated in process of time about the lives of the Irish Saints, before they were committed to writing.

All these are fables that built up over time about the lives of the Irish Saints before they were written down.

S. ULPHIA V.

(8th cent.)

(8th century)

[From the life of S. Domitius, October 23rd; and from an ancient life of the Saint.]

[From the life of S. Domitius, October 23rd; and from an ancient account of the Saint.]

S. ULPHIA

The blessed Ulphia was the daughter of noble parents in Gaul, she was singularly beautiful in face and graceful in person; consequently she was sought by many suitors, but, with her father's consent she vowed to observe perpetual chastity. At the age of twenty-five she received the veil from the hands of the Bishop of Amiens, and then she retired to S. Acheuil at some little distance from the city, where she ministered to S. Domitius, an aged hermit and canon of Amiens. The old man was wont to knock at the door of her little hut as he passed on his way to matins, and she rose and accompanied him. Now the place was marshy and many frogs inhabited the pools. One night they sang so shrilly that Ulphia could not sleep, but tossed on her couch, and drew her serge-habit about her ears, without being able to stop their voices from penetrating her brain and keeping her awake. After many hours she fell asleep. Shortly after, Domitius came by and rapped with his stick at the door. There was no answer, so he called, "Ulphia, my child, get up!" Then he rapped louder than before. Still there was no answer, so he called, "Ulphia, my child, the second watch of the night is past." As he received no answer, he supposed she had gone on before. But when he reached the church, he looked round, and he saw her not. And when matins was over, he returned in haste and fear, thinking something had befallen his dear child. But when he came to the cell, Ulphia stood in the door. Then she reproached him for not having called her. "I did call thee, I knocked loud," said the old man. "It was the frogs' doing!" exclaimed Ulphia, and she told him how they had kept her awake half the night. Then casting herself on the ground, she prayed to God to quiet the noisy frogs; and Domitius knelt beside her and said, Amen. After that the reptiles troubled her no more.

The blessed Ulphia was the daughter of noble parents in Gaul. She was exceptionally beautiful and graceful, which attracted many suitors. However, with her father's approval, she vowed to live a life of perpetual chastity. At twenty-five, she received the veil from the Bishop of Amiens and then retreated to S. Acheuil, a little distance from the city, where she helped S. Domitius, an elderly hermit and canon of Amiens. The old man would knock on the door of her small hut as he passed by on his way to early prayers, and she would rise to accompany him. The area was marshy, and many frogs lived in the pools. One night, they croaked so loudly that Ulphia couldn't sleep. She tossed on her bed and pulled her wool habit around her ears, but their voices still penetrated her mind, keeping her awake. After several hours, she finally fell asleep. Shortly after, Domitius came by and knocked on her door with his stick. When there was no response, he called, “Ulphia, my child, get up!” He knocked louder, but still got no answer, so he called again, “Ulphia, my child, the second watch of the night has passed.” When he received no answer, he thought she had gone ahead. However, upon arriving at the church, he looked around and didn’t see her. After matins, he hurried back in fear, worried something had happened to his dear child. When he reached her cell, Ulphia was standing at the door. She then scolded him for not calling her. “I did call you; I knocked loudly,” the old man replied. “It was the frogs’ fault!” Ulphia exclaimed, explaining how they had kept her awake half the night. She then fell to the ground and prayed to God to silence the noisy frogs, and Domitius knelt beside her and said, Amen. After that, the frogs troubled her no more.

When she was dying she prayed, "Saviour! sanctify, confirm, keep, rule, strengthen, comfort me; and in the end bring me to Thy sempiternal joys." And when the two virgins who had watched by her had said Amen, she fell asleep, and they left her. At dawn, one of them looked in and saw that she was dead, and in dying she had crossed her hands upon her breast, her face was bright and her lips [Pg 470] as though she smiled.

When she was dying, she prayed, "Savior! Purify, reassure, protect, guide, strengthen, and comfort me; and in the end, bring me to Your eternal joys." And when the two virgins who had kept watch over her said Amen, she fell asleep, and they left her. At dawn, one of them checked in and saw that she was dead, having crossed her hands over her chest in her final moments. Her face was radiant, and her lips looked as if she were smiling.

S. SERAPION, M.

(a.d. 1240.)

(A.D. 1240.)

He was an Englishman, whom S. Peter Nolasco received into his Order at Barcelona. He made two journeys among the Moors for the ransoming of captives, in 1240. The first was to Murcia, in which he purchased the liberty of ninety-eight slaves; the second to Algiers, in which he redeemed eighty-seven, but remained himself a hostage for the full payment of the money. He boldly preached Christ to the Mahometans, and baptised several, for which he was cruelly tortured, scourged, cut and mangled, at length fastened to a cross, and was thereon stabbed and quartered alive in the same year, 1240.

He was an Englishman who was received into the Order of S. Peter Nolasco in Barcelona. In 1240, he made two journeys among the Moors to ransom captives. The first trip was to Murcia, where he purchased the freedom of ninety-eight slaves. The second was to Algiers, where he redeemed eighty-seven captives but ended up remaining as a hostage for the full payment. He boldly preached Christ to the Muslims and baptized several, for which he was brutally tortured, whipped, cut, and mutilated. Eventually, he was fastened to a cross, where he was stabbed and quartered alive in the same year, 1240.

S. PETER NOLASCO

S. PETER NOLASCO, C.

(a.d. 1256.)

(A.D. 1256.)

[Roman Martyrology. Authority: life by Franciscus Zumel.]

[Roman Martyrology. Source: life by Franciscus Zumel.]

Peter Nolasco sprang from one of the first families of Languedoc. He was born in the year 1189, in the village of Mas des Saintes Pucelles. His pious parents took pains to give him a good education, and to cultivate the germs of virtue which appeared early in his soul. They saw with gladness his compassion for the poor, and his love of prayer. The child was wont to distribute his pocket-money in alms, and he went regularly to the matin office sung shortly after midnight. When he was aged 15, he lost his father, who left him heir to a large estate, but he remained with his mother, a pious woman, who laboured to strengthen and confirm in him those graces which grew and expanded daily. Being solicited to marry, he remained some little while in hesitation, but at last, rising one night he cast himself before his crucifix in prayer, and remained till day broke in the east, imploring God's guidance, and then feeling a clear call, he resolved to devote his patrimony to the honour and glory of God, and himself to celibacy. He followed Simon de Montfort, in the crusade against the Albigenses, an heretical, or rather heathen sect, holding two Gods, one good, the other evil, and who had devastated Navarre, burning churches and massacring priests and monks. The crusade was conducted with too much of worldly ambition, and without that compassionate love which should seek to win by gentleness rather than force by the sword. But the cruel massacres which took place were not the work of the crusaders, but of a mixed multitude of camp-followers, who obeyed no officers but such as they chose to appoint, as appears from the contemporary accounts of that war. However, Peter Nolasco was in no way responsible for the barbarities which sullied this terrible war. In the battle of Muset, the King of Aragon, who headed the Albigenses, was killed, and his son, aged six, fell into the hands of Simon de Montfort, who appointed Peter Nolasco, then aged twenty-five, to be his tutor, and sent both together into Spain. In the court of the King of Barcelona, where the Kings of Aragon resided, Peter led the life of a recluse. The Moors at that time were possessed of a considerable portion of Spain, and great numbers of Christians groaned under their tyranny in miserable slavery both there and in Africa. Whenever Peter saw a Christian slave, he was moved with sorrow; and he resolved to devote his life to the redemption of captives. He endeavoured to found a religious order for a constant supply of men and means whereby to carry on so charitable an undertaking. This design met with great obstacles in the execution; but the Blessed Virgin appearing to the [Pg 472] king, S. Raymund of Pennaforte, and S. Peter Nolasco, the same night, in visions, encouraged the prosecution of this charitable scheme.

Peter Nolasco came from one of the first families in Languedoc. He was born in 1189 in the village of Mas des Saintes Pucelles. His devout parents made sure he received a good education and nurtured the early signs of virtue in his character. They were pleased to see his compassion for the poor and his love of prayer. As a child, he often gave away his pocket money as charity and regularly attended the early morning Mass sung just after midnight. When he was 15, he lost his father, who left him a large estate, but he stayed with his mother, a devout woman, who worked to strengthen the blessings that were growing in him each day. When asked to marry, he hesitated for a bit, but one night, he got up and knelt before his crucifix in prayer, staying there until dawn, asking for God's guidance. After feeling a clear calling, he decided to dedicate his inheritance to God’s honor and glory and choose celibacy for himself. He joined Simon de Montfort in the crusade against the Albigenses, a heretical, or rather pagan sect, who believed in two gods—one good and one evil—and who had ravaged Navarre, burning churches and slaughtering priests and monks. The crusade was marked by too much worldly ambition and lacked the compassionate love that should seek to win others through gentleness rather than through the sword. However, the brutal massacres that occurred were not carried out by the crusaders but by a mixed group of camp-followers who didn’t follow any leaders except those they chose, as noted in contemporary accounts of the war. Nevertheless, Peter Nolasco was not responsible for the atrocities that stained this terrible conflict. In the battle of Muset, the King of Aragon, who led the Albigenses, was killed, and his six-year-old son was captured by Simon de Montfort, who made Peter Nolasco, then 25, his tutor and sent them both to Spain. At the court of the King of Barcelona, where the Kings of Aragon lived, Peter lived a reclusive life. At that time, the Moors held a significant portion of Spain, and many Christians suffered under their cruel rule in miserable slavery both there and in Africa. Whenever Peter saw a Christian slave, he felt deep sorrow and committed to dedicating his life to freeing captives. He aimed to establish a religious order that would constantly provide people and resources for this charitable mission. This plan faced many challenges during its implementation, but the Blessed Virgin appeared to King S. Raymund of Pennaforte and S. Peter Nolasco the same night in visions, encouraging them to continue pursuing this charitable endeavor.

In the year 1223 S. Peter took the vows before the Bishop of Barcelona, and he became first general of the new order, which was entitled "the Order of Our Lady of Mercy for the redemption of captives." It was confirmed by Pope Gregory IX. in 1225. The habit is white, with a white scapular, and the arms of Aragon were worn on the breast, by desire of the king.

In 1223, St. Peter took his vows before the Bishop of Barcelona and became the first general of the new order called "the Order of Our Lady of Mercy for the redemption of captives." It was officially approved by Pope Gregory IX in 1225. The habit is white, featuring a white scapular, and the arms of Aragon were worn on the chest at the king's request.

S. Peter, after his religious profession, renounced all his business at court, and no entreaties of the king could prevail on him to appear there again, except once, when called to reconcile two powerful nobles, who by their dissension had kindled a civil war.

S. Peter, after dedicating himself to his faith, gave up all his duties at court, and no amount of persuasion from the king could convince him to return, except for once, when he was asked to mediate between two influential nobles whose feud had sparked a civil war.

He made several journeys along the coasts, and to Algiers to purchase captives; on one of these expeditions he underwent imprisonment for the faith. He died on Christmas day, 1286. Almost his last words were those of the Psalmist, which summed up the efforts of his life, "The Lord hath sent redemption unto His people; He hath commanded His covenant for ever."

He took several trips along the coasts and to Algiers to buy captives. During one of these journeys, he was imprisoned for his faith. He died on Christmas Day, 1286. Almost his last words were those of the Psalmist, which captured the essence of his life's work: "The Lord has sent redemption to His people; He has commanded His covenant forever."


ADDENDA

Page 443, S. Francis of Sales, B.C.

Page 443, St. Francis de Sales, B.C.

When he wrote this biography the author had not access to the original materials, as the Acta Sanctorum for January did not include S. Francis. He was therefore obliged to have recourse to two modern biographies, those of Mr. Ormsby and Lady Herbert, based on the "Vie de S. François de Sales," by M. Hamon, that has gone through a good number of editions. In 1878 appeared an article, "Two Sides to a Saint—S. Francis de Sales," by the Rev. L. Woolsey Bacon, which was published in Macmillan's Magazine for September; it was founded on the Lives of S. Francis by Marsollier and Loyau d'Amboise, and M. Gabriel, the Protestant historian of Geneva. Marsollier did not write till 1700, and he quoted Cotolandi, who composed his Notice of the Saint in 1687. D'Amboise is unworthy of consideration, as his work was mere romance. Hamon's Life is, on the other hand, based on the letters of the Saint, and on the sworn depositions of eye-witnesses at his canonization. These latter are of very little value, as any unpartial reader who wades through such documents can assure himself. Anyhow they may contain, and do contain, fact along with some romance. In "Bulls of [Pg 474] Canonization" much fable is introduced that will not endure serious examination. Where biographers disagree and mutually vituperate one another as false witnesses, our only resource is to go to the original letters of the Saint. Canon Mackey has written four essays to clear the character of Francis of Sales (London: Burns and Oates. 1883), and again in Christian Literature, 1896, and it must be admitted that he shows a good reason for mistrusting the charges brought against the Saint. Mr. Bacon had, for instance, accused S. Francis of addressing a female friend as "my dearest girl of my heart," whereas the original is "Ma très chère fille de mon cœur." At the time S. Francis was a bishop of fifty-one, and although the expression is not at all to the taste of an Englishman, has no more meaning than the gushing and fulsome words which close a French letter, or than our "My dear So-and-So," and "Yours sincerely." Mr. Bacon also charges the Saint with having played fast and loose with the affections of the young lady to whom he was engaged. But the evidence goes no further than to show that at the time he was moved by conflicting considerations—submission to the will of his parents and his own strong reluctance to enter the marriage state. Mr. Bacon, moreover, accuses the Saint of having carried on the conversion of the Chablais under the cover of the soldiers of the Duke of Savoy. The circumstances seem to have been these. In 1536 the Bernese, taking advantage of a rupture between France and Savoy, treacherously and without declaring war entered the territory of the latter power and occupied Gex and a portion of the Chablais. They then wrecked the churches, drove [Pg 475] out the priests, and forbade the exercise of the Catholic religion. In 1564 Savoy recovered the country, and engaged to allow therein the exercise of the Protestant religion. This agreement was faithfully observed for twenty-five years, but in 1589 the Genevese and Bernese combined to reoccupy the country. It was recovered by the Duke of Savoy, who considered, and justly, that by this violation of the treaty by the Bernese he was freed from his obligation to tolerate Protestantism. The mission of S. Francis lasted for four years from September 1597, and unquestionably he had the power of the Duke of Savoy at his back, and did not scruple to invoke it. But that was the way of proselytising at the time. Protestants and Catholics alike leaned on the arm of flesh, and each was equally ready to employ the sword against the other.

When he wrote this biography, the author didn't have access to the original materials because the Acta Sanctorum for January didn't include S. Francis. He had to rely on two modern biographies, those of Mr. Ormsby and Lady Herbert, which were based on "Vie de S. François de Sales" by M. Hamon, a book that has gone through several editions. In 1878, an article titled "Two Sides to a Saint—S. Francis de Sales," by Rev. L. Woolsey Bacon, was published in Macmillan's Magazine for September. This article was based on the Lives of S. Francis by Marsollier and Loyau d'Amboise, as well as M. Gabriel, the Protestant historian of Geneva. Marsollier didn't write until 1700, and he cited Cotolandi, who wrote his Notice of the Saint in 1687. D'Amboise is not worth considering, as his work is pure romance. On the other hand, Hamon's Life is based on the letters of the Saint and the sworn statements of eye-witnesses at his canonization. These sources are of very little value, as any unbiased reader who goes through those documents can see for themselves. Still, they may contain, and do contain, facts mixed with some romance. In the "Bulls of Canonization," a lot of fable is included that wouldn't withstand serious scrutiny. When biographers argue and insult each other as false witnesses, our only option is to refer to the original letters of the Saint. Canon Mackey has written four essays to clear the character of Francis of Sales (London: Burns and Oates, 1883) and again in Christian Literature, 1896, and it's fair to say he provides good reasons to doubt the accusations against the Saint. For example, Mr. Bacon accused S. Francis of addressing a female friend as "my dearest girl of my heart," while the original wording is "Ma très chère fille de mon cœur." At the time, S. Francis was a fifty-one-year-old bishop, and although the phrase wouldn’t appeal to an Englishman, it holds no more significance than the overly sentimental closing of a French letter or our expressions like "My dear So-and-So" and "Yours sincerely." Mr. Bacon also accuses the Saint of being insincere in his engagement with a young lady. However, the evidence only shows that he was torn between obeying his parents' wishes and his own strong reluctance to marry. Additionally, Mr. Bacon claims that the Saint conducted the conversion of the Chablais with the protection of the Duke of Savoy's soldiers. The situation appears to have been as follows: In 1536, taking advantage of a rift between France and Savoy, the Bernese treacherously entered the territory of the latter without declaring war, occupying Gex and part of the Chablais. They then destroyed churches, expelled priests, and banned the practice of the Catholic faith. In 1564, Savoy regained control of the area and agreed to permit the practice of Protestantism. This agreement was upheld for twenty-five years, but in 1589, the Genevese and Bernese allied to retake the territory. It was reclaimed by the Duke of Savoy, who rightly believed that the Bernese's breach of the treaty freed him from his duty to tolerate Protestantism. S. Francis’s mission lasted four years starting in September 1597, and he undoubtedly had the support of the Duke of Savoy, not hesitating to call upon it. But that was how proselytizing was done back then. Both Protestants and Catholics relied on military might, and each was equally ready to use force against the other.

But certainly at first S. Francis was not supported by the Duke in the manner he had expected and desired, and also no doubt can exist that when the sword was used he employed his best endeavours to prevent its being wantonly and cruelly wielded. His letters show plainly that his success in convincing the people of the Chablais was almost nil till their fears were excited, and they were afforded other reasons for renouncing Protestantism than conviction that Romanism was better.

But at first, S. Francis definitely didn't receive the support he had hoped for from the Duke, and it's clear that when the sword was used, he tried his hardest to keep it from being used carelessly and cruelly. His letters clearly indicate that his success in persuading the people of the Chablais was almost nil until their fears were stirred up, and they were given other reasons to abandon Protestantism besides a genuine belief that Romanism was better.

The real difficulty S. Francis encountered at first was that the people would not listen to him. The attitude of the people he thus describes: "One party do not wish to hear; the other excuse themselves on the risk they would run if the truce were broken, should they have shown any approval of Catholicism; ... others again are [Pg 476] persuaded of the faith, but we cannot induce them to confess it, not knowing what will be the end of the truce" (Letter 9). In Letter 32 he asked the Duke to allow a senator to call the citizens together, and in his magisterial robes invite them to listen to his sermons.

The main challenge S. Francis faced at the beginning was that people refused to listen to him. He describes their attitude like this: "Some people don’t want to hear; others make excuses about the risks they would take if the truce was broken, should they show any support for Catholicism; ... some are convinced of the faith, but we can't get them to admit it, not knowing what the outcome of the truce will be" (Letter 9). In Letter 32, he requested that the Duke allow a senator to gather the citizens and, in his official robes, invite them to listen to his sermons.

At last conviction was supposed to be obtained, and a profession of submission to the Catholic faith extorted, when the inhabitants who were contumacious were threatened with expulsion. But it must be remembered that the Protestant cantons of Switzerland were equally intolerant, and determined to expel recalcitrant Catholics.

At last, they were expected to gain a conviction and force a declaration of submission to the Catholic faith, while the residents who resisted were threatened with being kicked out. However, it should be noted that the Protestant cantons of Switzerland were just as intolerant and were set on expelling stubborn Catholics.

END OF VOL. 1.

END OF VOL. 1.

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
Edinburgh & London

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
Edinburgh & London

Transcriber's notes:

- Difference in spelling of 'Ken-tiern' and 'Kentiern' is caused by usage of words.
- Difference in spelling of 'Münster' and 'Munster' is caused by different meanings.
- Ligatures not converted - set as printed in book.
- Inserted 'S.' (for Saint) Theoritgitha in alphabetical list (toc) of Saints.

Transcriber's notes:

- The difference in spelling of 'Ken-tiern' and 'Kentiern' comes from how the words are used.
- The difference in spelling of 'Münster' and 'Munster' is due to their different meanings.
- Ligatures have not been converted and are shown as they were printed in the book.
- Inserted 'S.' (for Saint) Theoritgitha in the alphabetical list (toc) of Saints.


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