hourly struggling with the powers of darkness. Gleams of noble feeling dart from amidst the darkness of their gross superstition; and, while we deplore the course they all pursued, we cannot but perceive the sublimity of the purpose by which many of them were animated. The first of the anchorets, whose name was Paul, has been immortalized by Jerome, who, in his inimitable biography of that singular person, affords a characteristic specimen of the absurd superstition and credulity, or something worse, which then overflowed the church, mingled with those elevated sentiments which, in many happy instances, were still cherished and expressed. The eloquent father relates the most absurd stories respecting his hero, telling us, that he was met by a hippocentaur a being half horse and half man-who begged him to intercede with Christ for his salvation; that a raven, who brought him half a loaf every day, brought him a whole loaf on the occasion of St. Antony's visit; that Paul was seen ascending to heaven amidst bands of angels and prophets, and that two lions were sent to dig his grave, who, when they had finished their task, crouched at the feet of the saint, and sought, and received, his blessing. Yet this monstrous fable concludes with the following magnificent passage. Perhaps at the close of this little book, some who are ignorant of his inheritance-who adorn their houses with marble, and cover their estates with elegant villas-may ask, Why were all these wanting

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to this poor aged man? You drink out of a cup of gems; he was content with one which nature supplied, the hollow of his own hands. You clothe yourself in embroidered tunics; he was clothed in a garb such as your slaves would not wear. But on the other hand, to this poor man paradise was opened; for you, rich men, perdition is prepared. He, though naked, was clothed in the robe of Christ; you, clothed in fine linen, lack that better raiment. Paul, covered with a little dust, is about to rise to glory; you, slumbering under marble sepulchres, shall be consumed with all your possessions. Spare yourselves, I beseech you, spare the wealth you love. Why should you wrap your dead in gilded robes? Why should your vain pride linger amcig your mourning and your tears? Will not the bodies of the rich decay unless they be folded in silk? I intreat you who read these things, that you would be mindful of Jerome a sinner, who, if the Lord wrong give him the choice, would much rather have Paul's humble clothing with his merits, than the purple robe of kings with their punishment."*

This production, by Jerome, strikes us as being a type of the early system of monkery; a mass of superstition, illumined here and there by noble sentiments, while these very sentiments are themselves tinctured by fearful errors. The allusion to the naked soul being clothed in the robe of Christ is very beautiful, and

Vita Pauli.

accords with the apostle Paul's sentiment in his Epistle to the Philippians, where he exhibits the ground of his own personal hopethat ground on which every true Christian rests exclusively " Yea doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord: for whom I have suffered the loss of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ, and be found in him, not having mine own righteousness, which is of the law, but that which is through the faith of Christ, the righteousness which is of God by faith."

Resting

there-building on that blessed foundation, "Jerome a sinner" would be safe; but instead of alluding to that as his only ground of hope, he speaks of "the merits" of his departed friend. That was the robe "better than the purple of kings" in which he would fain be wrapped. He seems to forget the Divine and perfect garment he had before mentioned, in his admiration and desire of the human, imperfect, and tattered robe of the poor hermit's righteousness. Such was the theology of the day, so ruinous to souls, either substituting the merit of man for the merit of the Redeemer, or endeavouring to unite them; such was the pestilential heresy that was ravaging the church; such was the principle which lay at the foundation of the monkish system; and such is the sentiment which, in the present day, as in former times, fastens on the minds of many, distracting their thoughts, bewilder

ing their attention, and cheating them out of the safety and peace they would secure by a simple reliance on "the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sin of the world;" for "neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved."

Monks were a different class of ascetics. They were men not living in solitude, but associated together under certain laws, yet keeping aloof from the world, and practising great self-denial. Antony was the founder of monastic establishments in Egypt, whence they rapidly spread over every part of Christendom. Athanasius introduced them into the west, where, at first, they seem to have been unpopular; and Martin of Tours was the founder of them in Gaul. But these establishments were so agreeable to the spiritual pride of some, the indolence of others, and the misguided piety of many more, that they soon multiplied, and became crowded with inmates; so that no less than two thousand of the fraternity in Gaul followed to the grave the remains of their zealous patron the famous St. Martin.

The discipline of the western monks was less severe than that of their brethren in the east, a change produced perhaps partly by the greater severity of the climate, and partly from regard to popular feeling. Nor did they cultivate the industrious habits of the Egyptian recluses. Even St. Antony spent a life of labour, and he is described by his biographer

as diligently employed in basket-making: but complaints were early made of the monks in Gaul, that they neglected the useful arts, and, with the exception of the younger brethren, restricted themselves to the exercises of devotion.

In the early part of the fifth century, there arose an individual who created a great and a permanent change in the monastic life, by reducing the institute into a regular and defined system. This was Benedict, the founder of the first monastic order properly so called. Marvellous are the stories related of this celebrated monk. He is said to have been frequently buffeted by Satan, who sometimes appeared with horns and hoofs, and sometimes in the form of a blackbird. The miracles the saint performed were more than usually numerous even in that miraculous age; and so strong and inherent was the devotional temperament of his mind, that he is described as having sung psalms before he was born! But some account of the rules of his institute will be more to our present purpose, as they constituted the basis of all the monastic institutions of the middle ages, and will therefore introduce us to an acquaintance with the social life of an immense class of persons for many centuries.

After describing four classes of monks, the Cœnobites, Anchorets, Saraibaites, and Gyrovagi -the last two of whom seem to have been licentious and idle vagabonds-he states that his rule was intended for the first class, the