Volume 3 / Part 1 — WOMEN OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE (continued 3)

The effect of this laudation of virginity upon the women who chose to remain in the world was equally detrimental to good morals. The natural result of the system might have been easily imagined, if the good sense of the teachers of that age had not been dulled by the conception of the human body as being hopelessly evil. Out of a large family of girls, one, "Priscilla," or "Agnes," has been induced, by the fervid representations of some apostle of celibacy as to the glorious sanctity of virginity, to devote herself to this "higher life." What will be the effect upon the "Marthas" and the "Elizabeths" who decide to remain in the world? Believing, as they also do, in the greater sanctity of virginity, they will necessarily consider themselves less pure and chaste than they would if such a comparison with their seraphic sister had not been thrust upon them. A line of demarcation is drawn between the once united band. On the one side stand chastity and angelic purity personified in the professed virgin; on the other side is marriage, not forbidden, but merely tolerated; a little lower down, according to the Nicene scale, is concubinage, and lower still, but on the same side, is prostitution. The "Marthas" and the "Elizabeths" were given the alternative of either following the example of "Agnes"--- against which their good sense rebelled--or of considering themselves only at the top of a class at the bottom of which were the notoriously impure. No greater injustice than this was ever done to womanhood.

In a society where the chaste love of a wife for her husband and the privileges and duties of a mother were regarded as placing a woman upon an inferior moral grade, it is not surprising to find that a large proportion accepted the rating of their time and lived down to it. Largely in consequence, then, of the substitution of a fantastic holiness for unromantic goodness, though the Church grew strong in the world, morals remained much what they had been under paganism. True, there were many of those professed virgins whose names are recorded in history, and who, as the result of what seems to have been a prodigious contest, maintained their character and withal achieved a noble and deserved reputation; but it is at least open to question whether or not the influence of these shining marks of sanctity was not offset by the otherwise pernicious effect of the system.

Before we proceed to the individual mention of some of these early saints, we will glance at the secular women who were their contemporaries.

Constantine had thoroughly orientalized the imperial court, and all the officials and aristocracy of the empire followed the fashion according to the degree of their ability. Gorgeous apparel, trains of eunuchs, barbaric splendor, and ostentatious titles replaced the white toga and the stately, though severe, grandeur of the Roman citizen of former times. The Roman spirit was dying out in sloth and effeminacy; it was fitting that a new capital of the Empire should be erected in the East, for the new times were strange and unrelated to the manes of the Roman ancestors. Nobility of thought had likewise perished, at least from the secular life of the Empire. As Duruy says: "Courts have sometimes been schools of elegance in manners, refinement in mind, and politeness in speech. Literature and art have received from them valuable encouragement. But at the epoch of which we are writing, poetry and art--those social forces by which the soul is elevated--no longer exist. With an Asiatic government and a religion soon to become intolerant, great subjects of thought are prohibited. There is no discussion of political affairs, for the emperor gives absolute commands; no history, for the truth is concealed or condemned to a complaisance which is odious to honest men; no eloquence, for nowhere can it be employed except in disgraceful adulation of the sovereign.... Only the Church is to have mighty orators,--but in the interests of heaven, not earth; and so, in this empire now exposed to countless perils, the little mental activity now existing in civil society will occupy itself only with court intrigues, the subtleties of philosophers aspiring to be theologians, or the petty literature of some belated and feeble admirers of the early Muses."

The three sons of Constantine, among whom, by will, he divided the Empire, were adherents of the Christian religion; but Constantius, who soon became the sole ruler, though a weighty factor in the evolution of the Church's doctrine, was no very edifying example of the moral effect of her teaching. His jealousy and implacability almost exterminated the race of Constantine, numerously represented as that sturdy emperor had left himself. The closest ties of relationship did not avail to save the lives of those who might stand in the way of the new ruler's ambitions. Constantina, the sister of Constantius, had been married to Hannibalianus, his cousin, but in spite of this double relationship the latter cruelly perished.

Constantina was a woman of whom it would be interesting to know more than the few references which history affords. She must have been a person of able as well as ambitious character, for her father had invested her with the title of Augusta. After his death, she deemed that the purple ought not to clothe a woman with mere powerless dignity, but that the right was hers to take a hand in the affairs of the Empire. In this view of her privileges she lacked the support of her three brothers: the situation was sufficiently disturbed by their own inharmonious claims. But after the death of Constans and Constantine, the way was cleared for Constantina to push her own interests. This she did by creating a puppet emperor out of Vetranio, a good-natured and obliging old general who was commanding in Illyricum. Constantina herself bound the diadem upon his brow; but during an interview with Constantius, a menacing shout of the soldiers induced Vetranio hastily to divest himself of the purple and thankfully accept his life with an honorable exile. Constantina had the diplomacy to make her peace with her brother as soon as she saw the fruitlessness of this scheme. She probably had deserted Vetranio before he had ceased trying to reign for her. Later on, she was married to Gallus, who, with his brother Julian, alone of the princes of the house of Constantine had survived the suspicion and the cruelty of Constantius. Gallus was appointed Cæsar of the Eastern provinces, and thus Constantina's ambitions were appeased. But as is frequently the case with those who are ambitious of political power, though intensely eager for the purple, she was entirely unworthy of the position. The historians of the time give this woman an exceedingly bad name, and doubtless the people of Antioch, where she and her husband established their court, agreed that it was abundantly deserved. She is described, not as a woman, but as one of the infernal furies, tormented with an insatiate thirst for human blood. That, of course, we may consider an extravagance of rhetoric on the part of Ammianus; but there is an ugly story of a pearl necklace which Constantina received from the mother-in-law of one Clematius of Alexandria. The ornament procured the death of Clematius, who had incurred the malice of his relative by disappointing her of his love. The rapacity and cruelty of Constantina, joined with the mad profligacy of her husband, ended by ruining them both. The displeasure of Constantius was aroused, and that was usually only appeased by the death of its object. He sent urgent messages inviting Gallus to visit him in the West, for the purpose of consulting on the affairs of the Empire; and it was especially urged that the Cæsar should bring his wife, "that beloved sister whom the emperor ardently desired to see." Constantina "knew perfectly of what her brother was capable"; she was not deceived by his protestations of affection for herself. But while she might be able to pacify him on the ground of her sex and their relationship, it was certain death for Gallus to put himself in the power of the tyrant of the East. Constantina set out alone to make her plea to her brother, but died on the way. There was nothing that her husband could do but obey the "invitation" of the emperor; but he was not allowed to see the face of Constantius. On the road, he was seized, and, after a mock trial, in which no sort of defence could have saved him, was beheaded.

Julian, the brother of Gallus, alone of the progeny of Constantine remained. His life was constantly in danger from the suspicions of Constantius; but it was preserved, and thereby paganism was destined to have one more trial, or rather one more dying struggle. That Julian escaped the dangers to which he was exposed was probably owing in a large measure to the friendship of Eusebia, the wife of the emperor. He afterward repaid this kindness by an eloquent, and we may be assured sincere, eulogium upon her character.

Eusebia was a native of Thessalonica, in Macedonia. Her family was of consular rank. She became the second wife of Constantius in the year 352, and seems to have enjoyed in matters political a considerable influence with her husband, which she always employed meritoriously. Her beauty is frequently spoken of by the ancient authors as being remarkable; but what is still more worthy of notice is the fact that, in an age when there were so many divided interests, the historians of all parties agree in the praise of her moral character. True, there is a hint somewhere that her kindness to Julian sprung from a tenderer motive than friendship; but all else that is known of her, as well as the frozen nature of Julian himself, sufficiently refutes such a suggestion.

In the time of Eusebia the Church was torn by the contentions between the orthodox and the followers of Arius. Constantius, as the imperial arbiter of eternal truth as well as of the temporal destinies of his subjects, sought to obtain peace by banishing the principal disputants, as he did Athanasius and Liberius of Rome. Eusebia's chief connection with these events, though herself an Arian, seems to have been influenced by her charitable inclination. When Liberius was going away into exile she sent him five hundred pieces of gold with which to defray his expenses. This however, rather churlishly as it would seem, he sent back with the message that she "take it to the emperor, for he may want it to pay his troops."

In this connection there is an incident recorded by Theodoret which indicates that the clergy, especially the bishops, of those times found resolute champions among the ladies, as they have in all ages. Two years after the exile of Liberius, Constantius went to Rome. "The ladies of rank urged their husbands to petition the emperor for the restoration of the shepherd to his flock: they added, that if this were not granted, they would desert them, and go themselves after their great pastor. Their husbands replied, that they were afraid of incurring the resentment of the emperor. 'If we were to ask him,' they continued, 'being men, he would deem it an unpardonable offence; but if you were yourselves to present the petition, he would at any rate spare you, and would either accede to your request, or else dismiss you without injury.' These noble ladies adopted this suggestion, and presented themselves before the emperor in all their customary splendor of array, that so the sovereign, judging their rank from their dress, might count them worthy of being treated with courtesy and kindness. Thus entering the presence, they besought him to take pity on the condition of so large a city, deprived of its shepherd, and made an easy prey to the attacks of wolves. The emperor replied, that the flock possessed a shepherd capable of tending it, and that no other was needed in the city. For after the banishment of the great Liberius, one of his deacons, named Felix, had been appointed bishop. He preserved inviolate the doctrines set forth in the Nicene confession of faith, yet he held communion with those who had corrupted that faith. For this reason none of the citizens of Rome would enter the house of prayer while he was in it. The ladies mentioned these facts to the emperor. Their persuasions were successful; and he commanded that the great Liberius should be recalled from exile, and that the two bishops should conjointly rule the Church. This latter arrangement did not suit the people, so Felix retired to another city."

Liberius generally refused to acknowledge Arians as Christians; whether or not he had the boldness to refuse that name to the empress is not told us. It is certain that Eusebia's kindness to Julian was worthy of a Christian, even though it succored one who was to be the arch-enemy of the faith. She befriended and protected him when he was summoned to a court where it was to the interest of every courtier to report every action and every chance word to Constantius. She may have been desirous of making a friend of the heir-apparent, being herself childless; but it is easy to believe that "the good and beautiful Eusebia," as Julian calls her, was both sincere and disinterested in her kindness. She brought it about that the emperor gave his permission to the young man, who had hitherto been a prisoner, to retire to a beautiful estate which he had inherited from his mother.

The fortunes of Julian were in good hands at the court. Constantius was greatly influenced by the eunuchs who surrounded him, and who were the bureaucratic officers of those times; but Eusebia was stronger than all others combined. When the emperor complained that the unaided rule was too much for him, she suggested that he raise his young kinsman to the Cæsarian dignity. Her advice was followed; and the imperial purple, and with it the hand of Helena, the sister of Constantius, were conferred upon Julian. As a wedding gift, Eusebia, with the most refined consideration possible, presented him with a valuable collection of the best Greek authors. It is likely that he felt more appreciative gratitude for the books than he did either for the official dignity or the highborn bride. As Cæsar, it was intended by Constantius that he should be no more than a figure; and for his wife it is doubtful if he ever felt any real affection. As historians have remarked, in his numerous writings Julian sometimes mentions the Helen of Homer, but never once his own Helen. She must have been considerably older than her husband, and was probably a Christian, as were her brothers. That there was no offspring of this marriage was imputed to the arts of Eusebia, who, according to Ammianus Marcellinus, exercised a close and unnatural supervision over the household of her protégé. Inasmuch as there appears no motive for a wish on the part of the empress that Helena should be childless, we are inclined, as Gibbon says, "to hope that the public malignity imputed the effects of accident as the guilt of Eusebia." The empress died in the year 360, immediately before Julian broke with Constantius and began to rule on his own authority.

Julian led a forlorn hope in the cause of the old gods. This at least may be said for him: there was nothing in the treatment which he received from those who professed to be Christians to hold his faith to their religion. One only had befriended him, and she was regarded as a heretic. The historians of the time endeavor to picture Julian as leading a crusade of persecution against Christianity. Theodoret speaks of his "mad fury"; but inasmuch as he is constrained to recount stories which rather illustrate the triviality of the mind of the historian than the cruelty of the persecutor, it is evident that the glory of martyrdom was not won to any considerable extent under Julian. We are inclined to think that one of these narratives exemplifies the latter's patience more than any other of his characteristics. There was a woman named Publia, who had become the prioress of a company of virgins. One day these women, seeing the emperor coming, struck up the psalm which recites how "the idols of the nations are of silver and gold," and, after describing their insensibility, adds "like them be they that make them and all those that put their trust in them." Julian required them at least to hold their peace while he was passing by. Publia did not, however, pay the least attention to his orders, except to urge her choir to put still greater energy into their chaunt; and when again the emperor passed by she told them to strike up: "Let God arise and let his enemies be scattered." At last Julian commanded one of his escort to box her ears. "She however took outrage for honor, and kept up her attack upon him with her spiritual songs, just as the composer and teacher of the song laid the wicked spirit that vexed Saul."

Before we leave this brief reference to the secular matrons of the early Church in order to turn our attention to the sacred virgins, it is necessary to summon the testimony of Jerome. This learned and eloquent Father is the great authority on the women of his time. Only those vowed to celibacy enjoyed his highest approbation; yet he had many friends among the married ladies of Rome. Jerome was a satirist. His pen was caustic when it dealt with persons or matters that did not meet his approval. He was the Juvenal of his age, but he wrote in prose, and not for the sake of satire, but as the champion of orthodoxy and virginity. Many of his writings are in the form of letters to ladies who were his friends. The one to Eustochium, the daughter of Paula, is the most striking of all. In this epistle Jerome sets forth the motives which should actuate those who adopt the monastic life. It also gives us a vivid picture of Roman society as it then was--the luxury, profligacy, and hypocrisy prevalent among both men and women. This letter was written at Rome in the year 384. "I write to you thus, Lady Eustochium (I am bound to call my Lord's bride 'lady'), to show you by my opening words that my object is not to praise the virginity which you follow, and of which you have proved the value, or yet to recount the drawbacks of marriage, such as pregnancy, the crying of infants, the torture caused by a rival, the cares of household management, and all those fancied blessings which death at last cuts short. Not that married women are as such outside the pale; they have their own place, the marriage that is honorable and the bed undefiled. My purpose is to show you that you are fleeing from Sodom and should take warning by Lot's wife." Such is the tone and tenor of Jerome's correspondence with the women of his acquaintance. Among many other things, he cautions Eustochium not to court the society of married ladies, and not to "look too often on the life which you despised to become a virgin!" Many glimpses are given of the characteristics of that life which was to be so carefully avoided. The pride of those who are the wives of men in high position, and also their delight in troops of callers, are noticed. They are pictured as they are carried about the streets in gorgeous litters, with rows of eunuchs walking in front. Their dress is mentioned: red cloaks, robes inwrought with threads of gold, and creaking shoes. Jerome is even so unsparing as to refer to those who "paint their eyes and lips with rouge and cosmetics; whose chalked faces, unnaturally white, are like those of idols; upon whose cheeks every chance tear leaves a furrow; who fail to realize that years make them old; who heap their heads with hair not their own; who smooth their faces, and rub out the wrinkles of age; and who, in the presence of their grandsons, behave like trembling school-girls." Some of Jerome's strictures are suggestive of modern feminine habits. Speaking of Blaesilla, after she had become a widow and was determined to persevere in that estate, he says that in days gone by she had been extremely fastidious in her dress, and had spent whole days before her mirror endeavoring to correct its deficiencies. Her head, "which had done no harm, was forced into a waving head-dress." But all this is changed. Now "no gold and jewels adorn her girdle; it is made of wool, plain, and scrupulously clean. It is intended to keep her clothes right, and not to cut her waist in two."

Eustochium, as a professed virgin of the Church, is warned not to trifle with verse, nor to make herself gay with lyric songs. "And do not, out of affectation, follow the sickly taste of married ladies who, now pressing their teeth together, now keeping their lips wide apart, speak with a lisp, and purposely clip their words, because they fancy that to pronounce them naturally is a mark of country breeding."

In another place the Father of asceticism says: "To-day you may see women cramming their wardrobes with dresses, changing their gowns from day to day, and for all that unable to vanquish the moths. Now and then one more scrupulous wears out a single dress; yet, while she appears in rags, her boxes are full. Parchments are dyed purple, gold is melted into lettering, manuscripts are decked with jewels, while Christ lies at the door naked and dying. When they hold out a hand to the needy they sound a trumpet; when they invite to a love-feast they engage a crier. I lately saw the noblest lady in Rome--I suppress her name, for I am no satirist--with a band of eunuchs before her in the basilica of the blessed Peter. She was giving money to the poor, a coin apiece; and this with her own hand, that she might be accounted more religious. Hereupon a by no means uncommon incident occurred. An old woman, 'full of age and rags,' ran forward to get a second coin, but when her turn came she received, not a penny, but a blow hard enough to draw blood from her guilty veins." Rome had always successfully withstood the rhetorical lashings of her censors; had it not been for this power of resistance, the castigations of a Jerome surely would have sufficed to hold the natural frivolity of the women of his time at least within the bounds of modesty.

The moral influence of Jerome illustrated the danger of insisting on perfection with the result of falling below the average of possible attainment. In his letters to Paula, Eustochium, Marcella, and Asella, women who delighted him by manifesting an astounding resolution in mortifying the flesh, he continually laments those who, professing to have made an offering of their virginity to Christ, were in reality a scandal to the Church.

Paula was a Roman lady of the highest rank and greatest wealth. The genealogy of her father ascended through the highest names in Grecian history; her mother, Blassilla, numbered the Scipios and the Gracchi among her ancestors. Paula was Cornelia reincarnated in the fourth century of Christianity; the only differences are that the former maintained a chaste widowhood inspired by fuller hopes than earthly renown, and instead of entertaining men of learning at Misenum she studied Hebrew with Jerome in a squalid cave at Bethlehem. This devout lady had much to resign in order that she might enter upon a life of poverty. One of the most magnificent houses of Rome was hers, and she drew her revenues from the city of Nicopolis, the whole of which she owned. She was born in the year 347, ten years after the death of Constantine. At the age of seventeen she was married to Toxotius, who was a descendant of the illustrious Julian family. She was the mother of five daughters and one son. It seems likely that she owed her conversion to Christianity to the holy Marcella, one of that circle of ascetic women to whom the letters of Jerome were addressed. Until the time of her husband's death, the life of Paula in her magnificent palace on the Aventine was similar to that of other wealthy Roman ladies, except that her means enabled her to excel all others in elegance. On her conversion, and as the best proof of its reality, in the estimation of those days, she distributed a quarter of her immense estate to the poor. The ideas then prevalent would not permit her to deem herself an earnest Christian unless she entirely relinquished her habits of luxury. This she did, and devoted herself to the care of the indigent and the nursing of the infirm. Her piety would not even allow her sufficiently to sustain her bodily strength for these noble labors. She lived on bread and a little oil, on many days denying herself even that until after sunset. Her dress was the rough garb of the slave; her couch was a mat of straw, covered with haircloth.

There was, however, one enjoyment which Paula allowed herself: she was one of a circle of ladies, all ascetics like herself, who were devoted to the study of literature. There was Marcella, who was the first of the highborn Roman ladies to embrace the monastic life, and of whom Jerome gives this account: "Her father's death left her an orphan, and she had been married less than seven months when her husband was taken from her. Then, as she was young and highborn, as well as distinguished for her beauty and her self-control, an illustrious consular named Cerealis paid court to her with great assiduity. Being an old man, he offered to make over to her his fortune so that she might consider herself less his wife than his daughter. Her mother Albina went out of her way to secure for the young widow so exalted a protector. But Marcella answered: 'Had I a wish to marry and not rather to dedicate myself to perpetual chastity, I should look for a husband and not an inheritance; and when her suitor argued that sometimes old men live long while young men die early, she cleverly retorted: 'a young man may die early, but an old man cannot live long.' This decided rejection of Cerealis convinced others that they had no hope of winning her hand."

Marcella may indeed be termed the prioress of the community of ascetics which gathered in her house and in that of Paula on the Aventine hill. She studied Hebrew with Jerome, and became so proficient in Scriptural exposition that, after the latter's departure for the Holy Land, even the clergy would bring to her for solution such questions as were too difficult for them. When Alaric and his Goths sacked the city of Rome, the prayers and the evident holiness of Marcella induced the barbarians to spare her life and the honor of the virgin Principia, who dwelt with her, and they even left her house unmolested.

Another shining light in that Aventine circle was Asella, who had been dedicated to the Church from her tenth year. Her fastings may be said to have been almost unintermittent, so that Jerome thought it was only by the grace of God that she survived until her fiftieth year without weakening her digestion. "Lying on the dry ground did not affect her limbs, and the rough sackcloth that she wore failed to make her skin either foul or rough. With a sound body and a still sounder soul she sought all her delight in solitude, and found for herself a monkish hermitage in the centre of busy Rome."

Among the good women of that day were also Albina and Marcellina, who were the sisters of Saint Ambrose. Marcellina made a public profession of virginity before a great congregation which gathered on Christmas day in the Church of Saint Peter. She received the veil from the hands of the bishop Liberius. In a work addressed to her Ambrose repeats the instructions which his sister received from the bishop at that time. The work is of no little interest, as it clearly sets forth the idea which governed the lives of professed nuns of that early date.

Paula also numbered among her companions Fabiola, a woman noble both in character and race, who, after a stormy youth, found peace in the haven of ascetic devotion. Jerome describes her life in his seventy-seventh letter. Fabiola was censured for putting away one husband and marrying again while the man whom she divorced was yet alive. Jerome's defence of her divorce shows such liberality of thought on the rights of women in this regard that part of it is worth quoting. He says: "I will urge only this one plea, which is sufficient to exonerate a chaste matron and a Christian woman. The Lord gave commandment that a wife must not be put away 'except it be for fornication, and that, if put away, she must remain unmarried.' Now a commandment which is given to men logically applies to women also. For it cannot be that, while an adulterous wife is to be put away, an incontinent husband is to be retained.... The laws of Cæsar are different, it is true, from the laws of Christ.... Earthly laws give a free rein to the unchastity of men, merely condemning seduction and adultery; lust is allowed to range unrestrained among brothels and slave-girls, as if the guilt were constituted by the rank of the person assailed and not by the purpose of the assailant. But with us Christians what is unlawful for women is equally unlawful for men." It is only in very modern times that the secular law has conformed to this just opinion, and even now the social treatment received by the sinner is guided by a view the opposite of that expressed by Jerome.

So Fabiola took another husband, and therein she was held to have sinned deeply. Repentance, however, soon followed--a life-long penitence, an expiation offered by a continual sacrifice of good works. The whole of her property she gave to the poor; among other good deeds she founded a hospice for the shelter of the destitute. She resided for a while with Jerome, Paula, and Eustochium at Bethlehem, but returned to Rome to die. Her funeral was a reminder of the old-time triumphs. All the streets, porches, and roofs from which a view could be obtained of the procession were insufficient to accommodate the spectators.

Into this circle of holy women came Jerome, the most learned and the most brilliant man of his time. He was their equal in birth, and he, like them, had disposed of his property in charity to the poor. He became their friend, their teacher, their oracle. So assured was he of his ascendency over his friends that he often gave his advice in a manner which savored of arrogance.

In the year 385 Jerome bade farewell to these devoted friends and sailed away to the land which was consecrated by the life and sufferings of Christ. He desired retirement, in order that he might be free to meditate and to prosecute his great work of translating the Scriptures. From the ship in which the journey was made he addressed a letter to Asella. It seems that slanderous tongues had foolishly assailed him in regard to his friendship with those women whose attractions could not have been other than spiritual. He admits that, of all the ladies of Rome, one only had the power to subdue him, and that one was Paula. He had been able to withstand countenances beautified both by nature and also by art; with Paula alone, "who was squalid with dirt," and whose eyes were dimmed with continual weeping, was his name associated. Calumny on this subject was too absurd to be treated with seriousness. The reference to Paula's personal untidiness gives us the occasion to remark that, contrary to the generally accepted axiom regarding the religious worth of cleanliness, those ancient nuns were taught to believe that the bath was rather conducive to ungodliness. It was a dangerous subserviency to the flesh: its eschewment was doubtless a powerful safeguard to chastity.

Two years after the departure of their friend, Paula and Eustochium gratified a wish which they had long cherished, to visit the Holy Land. A most graphic picture of Paula leaving her children and friends is given us in one of Jerome's letters. They realized, what was not, perhaps, openly acknowledged, that it was a final good-bye. We are shown the young girls clinging to their mother in the endeavor to dissuade her from her purpose. But the sails are unfurled and the stout-armed rowers are in their places; Rufina, a maiden just entering womanhood, with quiet sobs, beseeches her mother to wait until she should be married. As the vessel moves away, little Toxotius, the youngest-born and her only son, stretches out his tiny hand and pleads with his mother to come back. But no entreaty could turn Paula from her pious though hardly commendable purpose. "She overcame her love for her children by her love for God." That was the favorable judgment of the time. A less enthusiastic, but saner, age can hardly bestow such unmitigated praise.

After a journey through all the places made famous by Scripture, in every one of which they were received with great honor, Paula and her daughter made their home at Bethlehem, where Jerome already had his cell. There she built a convent; and for eighteen years she devoted her life to the training of the many virgins who resorted to her company, attracted by the fame of her holiness. At her death, the manner of which was truly edifying, it was found that Paula had disposed of the whole of her property in charity. Though it is probable that these ascetic women were to a large extent under the influence of motives less exalted than that mentioned above, much good intention must be laid to their credit; and doubtless their extreme self-denial was not without a salutary effect in a sensual world. At the end of his description of her death, which he wrote for her daughter, Jerome says: "And now, Paula, farewell, and aid with your prayers the old age of your votary."

VI

THE NUNS OF THE PRIMITIVE CHURCH

WE have already given some attention to certain famous Christian women who, in the earliest ages of the Church, dedicated themselves to the ascetic life. But monasticism, occupying as it did so extensive and important a field in the early Church, deserves the devotion of nothing less than a chapter to the consideration of its effect upon the life of women, and to the part they played in its establishment. In describing the friends of Jerome--Paula, Eustochium, Asella, and the others--we dwelt more on the moral aspect of primitive asceticism, its exaggerations, its wrong-headedness, its influence upon family life; it is now our purpose to take a brief glance at the organization of female monasticism, and to notice its effect upon the social life of women. For it cannot be otherwise than that so popular and general an institution as this must at the time have profoundly affected human existence. A great multitude of men and women taken out of common society and living apart under conditions entirely contradictory to the instinct and usages of the race must have shaken the body politic in every direction, causing a movement of influences far-reaching in its effect.

Monasticism was not the creation of Christianity; the religions of the East had their devotees, like the Jewish Essenes, who abandoned the common pursuits of men for a life of solitude, idle introspection, and rapt contemplation. The wildernesses and solitary places of the East had been made yet more weird by the presence of unhumanlike hermits, even before the days of John the Baptist. Christian monasticism, also, had its birth in the dreamy East. Antony, by his example, and Pachomius, by enthusiastic propaganda of monastic ideas, laid the foundations of that system which was to honeycomb the whole world with bands of men and women who repudiated the natural pleasures and the essential duties of the world.

Of the motive that inspired the monastic life, St. Augustine says: "No corporeal fecundity produces this race of virgins; they are no offspring of flesh and blood. Ask you the mother of these? It is the Church. None other bears these sacred virgins but that one espoused to a single husband, Christ. Each of these so loved that beautiful One among the sons of men, that, unable to conceive Him in the flesh as Mary did, they conceived Him in their heart, and kept for him even the body in integrity."

We may admit this intense love of God as a moving force, and still claim that the hermits and anchoresses of the early Church were actuated largely by the desire to redeem themselves from the wrath to come and to gain a personal entrance to the paradise of God. Salvation was an individual responsibility, and it admitted of no compromise with the world. The road to perfection could be cheered with company only, providing others were willing to set out upon it by first renouncing all natural joys, and by despising all human ties. The claims of close kindred were not allowed to hinder in the personal quest for heavenly rewards. The tearfully pleaded needs of an aged parent were not permitted to detain at home the daughter who had consecrated herself as the bride of Christ; Paula turned her back upon the outstretched hands of her infant son, in order that in the Holy Land she might spend her days in ecstatic contemplation of the Jerusalem above. It is recorded to the high praise of Saint Fulgentius that he sorely wounded his mother's heart by despising her sorrow at his departure.

True it is that many of the earliest consecrated handmaidens of the Church continued to reside in their city homes, and, in addition to their prayers, devoted themselves to works of charity and mercy. But they were scarcely less separated from the world and their kindred. Their manner of life interdicted all common intercourse. The virgin who could boast that for twenty-five years she never bathed, except the tips of her fingers, and these only when she was about to receive the Communion, must have been as foreign to the Rome in which she lived as if she inhabited a cave in the Thebaid. Her kinsfolk may have reverenced her sanctity, but it is doubtful if they unqualifiedly appreciated her presence. The explanation of this transcendent personal neglect is to be found in the dualism which was so considerable an element in the motif of monasticism. The religious sphere was exclusively spiritual and of the mind; the material world was considered to be wholly under the dominion of the devil if it were not, indeed, his work. The body, with all its appetites, instincts, pleasures, and pains, was regarded as a spiritual misfortune. Holiness was not deemed to be in any degree attainable except by constant and determined thwarting of all natural desire. The compulsion to give way to any extent to the most essential of these desires was, so far as it obtained, a moral imperfection. The three great human faults are lust, pride, and avarice. To subjugate these, celibacy, absolute submission, and complete poverty, were deemed necessary by the advocates of monasticism. Because purity is enjoined, the saint of one sex must treat a person of the other with the same avoidance as would be displayed toward a poisonous reptile; readiness to embrace a leper is none too severe a test of humility; and personal property in a hair blanket is a pitfall laid by wealth. A body so wasted by fasting as to be incapable of sustaining the continuous round of tears and prayers is the surest warrant of saintliness. A virgin who has so abused her stomach by improper and insufficient food that it refuses a meal necessary to a healthy body is the object of high veneration; indigestion is a most desirable corollary to holiness. In short, without outraging reason and contradicting every dictum of common sense, it is difficult to describe much that belonged to ancient monasticism in any other spirit than that of impatience.

Like most institutions, monasticism began in a formless, undirected enthusiasm. Men and women rushed into the wilderness with an abundantly zealous determination to get away from the wickedness of the world, but with a still greater scarcity of understanding regarding a reasonable discipline of life. Soon, however, organization was proposed by monks of experience, and rules formulated which were generally adopted. Saint Pachomius was the first to form monkish foundations in the East. These were visited by Athanasius while he was in exile, and he came back with a glowing account of the sanctity of life and the marvellous exploits of their members. His narrative fired the hearts of the more devout Christians of the West, especially of the women, and that of the monk or the nun became at once the most illustrious vocation which a Christian could follow. The result was, as the Count de Montalembert shows, that "the town and environs of Rome were soon full of monasteries, rapidly occupied by men distinguished alike by birth, fortune and knowledge, who lived there in charity, sanctity and freedom. From Rome, the new institution--already distinguished by the name of religion, or religious life, par excellence--extended itself over all Italy. It was planted at the foot of the Alps by the influence of a great bishop, Eusebius of Vercelli. From the continent, the new institution rapidly gained the isles of the Mediterranean, and even the rugged rocks of the Gargon and of Capraja, where the monks, voluntarily exiled from the world, went to take the place of the criminals and political victims whom the emperors had been accustomed to banish thither."

Western monasticism was inspired by a different genius from that of the Eastern. Instead of being speculative and characterized by dreamy indolence and meditative silence, it was far more practical. It was active, stirring; duty, rather than esoteric wisdom, was its watchword. Fasting, stated hours for prayer, reading, and vigorous manual work were strictly enjoined by every rule. Consequently, the nuns and monks of the West never went to the fantastic extremes which exhibited in the East a stylite, or a female recluse, dwelling, like an animal, in a hollow tree, or a drove of half wild and wholly maniacal humans who subsisted by browsing on such edible roots as they found in the earth on which they grovelled. Method, regularity, and purpose early gave character and efficiency to Western monasteries, and prepared them for the literary and industrial usefulness which followed in the wane of the first frenzy, and which made monasticism, in spite of itself, a powerful factor in the evolution of modern civilization. This systematizing was due to the efforts of Ambrose, Athanasius, Gregory the Great, but more especially to those of Benedict of Nursia.

The first known ceremonial recognition by the Church of a professed nun is the case of Marcellina. On Christmas Day, perhaps of the year 354, she received a veil from the hands of Pope Liberius, and made her vows before a large congregation gathered in the church of Saint Peter, at Rome. Saint Ambrose, her brother, has preserved for us a summary of the sermon preached by the bishop on the occasion. It consists of an earnest but not very convincing--so it would seem to modern ears--exhortation to abstinence from worldly pleasure and to perseverance in virginity. Marcellina continued to dwell in private in her own home, for it had not yet become customary for professed virgins to take up their residence in a common abode. The inauguration of this new departure had begun, however, as is shown by passages in the work of Saint Ambrose on virginity, which he dedicated to his sister. In the eleventh chapter of the first book, he says: "Some one may say, you are always singing the praise of virgins. What shall I do who am always singing them and have no success (in persuading them to the consecrated life)? But this is not my fault. Then, too, virgins come from Placentia to be consecrated, or from Bononia and Mauritania, in order to receive the veil here. I treat the matter here, and persuade those who are elsewhere. If this be so, let me treat the subject elsewhere, that I may persuade you.

"Behold how sweet is the fruit of modesty, which has sprung up even in the affections of barbarians. Virgins, coming from the greatest distance on both sides of Mauritania, desire to be consecrated here; and though all the family be in bonds, yet modesty cannot be bound. She who mourns over the hardship of slavery professes to own an eternal kingdom.

"And what shall I say of the virgins of Bononia, a fertile band of chastity, who, forsaking worldly delights, inhabit the sanctuary of virginity? Though not of the sex which lives in common, attaining in their common chastity to the number of twenty, leaving their parents' dwellings, they press into the houses of Christ; at one time singing spiritual songs, they provide their sustenance by labor, and seek with their hands the supplies for their liberal charity."

So, then, it is evident that as early as the latter part of the fourth century communities of nuns began to live in their own religious houses. As yet, however, the inmates of these asylums of chastity were answerable, only to themselves for the faithfulness with which they fulfilled their vows. There was no organized order, no recognized rule; each virgin observed her profession according as she interpreted the terms thereof. The Church exercised no well-defined disciplinary authority over these convents; of course, if a professed nun scandalously repudiated her vows, she could be excommunicated, but the efficacy of this punishment was conditioned entirely by the degree of horror with which the woman viewed the forfeiture of ecclesiastical privileges. It was not before the time of Gregory that the Church became able to enforce its judgments. When all the world became Christian, then the individual again lost his freedom of thought in relation to religious matters; then, through its alliance with the secular arm, the Church gained the power to sternly constrain its recalcitrant children. This was brought about by the political advantages gained by Gregory, and by Saint Benedict's gifts of organization.

Saint Benedict was the father of Western organized monasticism; he not only founded an order to which many religious houses already existing united themselves, but he established a rule for their government, which was adopted as the rule for monastic life by all such orders which existed in the Church down to the time of Saint Francis and Saint Dominic. What Benedict did for the monks, his sister Scholastica--who, being a woman, has received far less mention--accomplished for the nuns. Through her efforts, under the direction and advice of her brother, greater dignity and weight were given to the female side of monasticism.

We know that Benedict was born at Nursia, in the province of Spoleto, in the year 480; whether Scholastica was older or younger than her more famous brother is not said. Their parents were respectable people, possessed of sufficient means to enable them to give their children a good education, and to take up temporarily their residence in Rome for that purpose.

While at Rome, Benedict became enamored of the idea of devoting himself to religion; and in order to get away from the moral dangers of the city, he fled from his school and his parents to a small village called Effide, about two miles from Subiaco. His nurse--Cyrilla--was his accomplice and companion in this adventure, and for this she has received her due meed of honor in the legends which have attached to the life of the great founder. As an example of these legends, and as an illustration of their historic value, we will notice one story. One day, Cyrilla accidentally broke a stone sieve which she had borrowed for the purpose of making the youthful saint some bread. Compassionating her distress, Benedict placed the two pieces in position and then prayed over them. To the great joy of Cyrilla and the no small wonderment of the rustics, they became firmly cemented together and the sieve was again made whole. This marvellous utensil was hung over the church door, where it remained for many years an irrefutable proof of the power of monastic holiness.

Later on, Saint Benedict established twelve monasteries in the neighborhood, at last settling at Monte Casino, not far from the place where his sister, Saint Scholastica, also presided over a colony of religious women. Here were formulated and adopted the regulations which for so many years governed these religious recluses, both male and female. Three virtues comprised the whole of the Benedictine discipline: celibate seclusion, extended to the cultivation of silence as far as the exigences of the convent would permit; humility to the very last degree; and obedience to superiors even--so said the law--when impossibilities were commanded. The effect designed was to concentrate the entire thought of the recluse upon himself. Yet, idleness on the part of its subjects was far from the purpose of this discipline. All the waking hours--which were by far the greater part of the time--of these nuns were devoted to the worship of God, reading, and manual labor. Besides the essential work of their own household, the nuns occupied themselves in spinning, weaving, and manufacturing clothing, which was distributed in charity; thus their time was not wholly spent in vain. They also wove and embroidered the beautiful tapestries and hangings which ornamented the churches, and, in course of time, developed a textile art which was one of the glories of the Middle Ages. With the time at their disposal, it is no wonder that the ancient convents could exhibit histories of the Creation, done in stitchwork. In imitation of the Psalmist, seven times a day the nuns met in their chapel for prayer and praise. Sloth was not possible with them; for they were obliged to waken for matins very early in the morning, before the breaking of day, even in summer, and this after having risen for a short service of praise at midnight.

Abstinence from the flesh of four-footed animals was perpetually and universally enforced. Fowls were allowed on festival occasions; but the regular diet was vegetable broth and bread. A large part of the year was a prescribed fast during which one meal a day was made to suffice and that at even. No nun was permitted to speak of or consider anything as her own, not even a girdle or any part of her dress. At first, when members of the order became delinquent in their duties, only such penalties as sequestration from the common table or the chapel, with expulsion from the order in case of incorrigibility, could be enforced. But, as the Church's disciplinary hand grew heavier on the lives of mankind, severer punishments were adopted, which contumacy served only to render yet more cruel, even to life-long solitary incarceration.

But the most stringent rule of monasticism, as regulated by Saint Benedict and Saint Scholastica, was that in relation to the sexes. According to it, they were required to treat each other as natural, irreconcilable enemies. Communion, even between those of the closest kin, was almost entirely interdicted. The two founders, brother and sister though they were, and united not only in a perfect harmony of disposition and affection, but in devotion to the same life purpose, saw each other but once a year. "There is something striking," says Milman, "in the attachment of the brother and sister, the human affection struggling with the hard spirit of monasticism. Saint Scholastica was a female Benedict--equally devout, equally powerful in attracting and ruling recluses of her own sex, the remote foundress of convents almost as numerous as those of her brother's rule." We are indebted to Gregory the Great for the narration of some interesting incidents in the lives of these two saints. The only one which our space will permit, and perhaps the one which best illustrates the spirit that governed them in the hard and self-denying path which they elected to walk, is the account of their last meeting. Though the convent was situated not far from the monastery, though they were brother and sister, aged, and devoted to the same holy aims, they met but once a year, for so said the rule. Scholastica was dying, and the time came for Benedict to pay his annual visit. Evening had come all too quickly, for the few hours had rapidly passed in the delight of spiritual communion. Scholastica entreated her brother to remain in the convent for that one night, as it was likely that he would never again see her alive. But not even sisterly affection could turn the monk from the rigid observance of his rules, one of which was that neither he nor any of his brethren should spend a night outside of the monastery. As he was preparing to bid her farewell, she bent her head for a few moments in profound prayer. Suddenly the sky, which had hitherto been clear and serene, became overcast, the vivid lightning flashed, the thunder crashed, and the rain swept down in torrents; heaven had come to the aged nun's assistance. "The Lord have mercy on you, my sister!" said Benedict, "what have you done?" "You," she replied, "have rejected my prayers; but the Lord hath not. Go now, if you can!" Her intercession was rewarded with triumph, and they passed the night in holy communion. Three days afterward, Benedict saw the soul of Scholastica soaring to heaven in the shape of a dove, whither, after a very little while, he followed her.

As it is with all social movements, after a while the glory of the initial purity of purpose which marked the inception of Benedictine monasticism began to wane; its singleness of aim became diverted; its disingenuousness was replaced by sophisticated evasion of its rule. The monasteries and convents became wealthy; ways were discovered by which their discipline could be softened without formally abrogating the rule; and events rendered it advisable to legislate that houses for nuns and for monks should not be erected in close proximity.

The time came when the abbess took her place among the high dignitaries of the Church, and the office grew to be one, not only of great spiritual influence, but of enviable social standing. Even in the days of Gregory the Great, who, though he lost no opportunity to magnify the papal office, was a man of intense spiritual nature and powerful moral character, the leaders of female monasticism began to realize the possibilities of ecclesiastical officialdom. The honors of an abbess were found to be a not altogether unsatisfactory substitute for the undesired or the unattainable glories of the world. It was at least something to be addressed in correspondence by the great bishop of Rome as a coworker; and there are many letters extant written by Gregory to abbesses in various parts of the Western world. These furnish us with sidelights upon the personnel, the duties, customs, and standing of the women who were placed in charge of these convents.

In a letter written to Thalassia, abbess of the convent which Brunehaut founded in the city of Autun, Saint Gregory sets forth the privileges and the manner of electing a woman to that office. He says: "We indulge, grant and confirm by decree of our present authority, privileges as follows: Ordaining that no king, no bishop, no one endowed with any dignity whatsoever, shall have power, under show of any cause or occasion whatsoever, to diminish or take away, or apply to his own uses, or grant as if to other pious uses for excuse of his own avarice, anything of what has been given to the monastery by the above-written king's children, or of what shall in future be bestowed on it by any others whatever of their own possessions. But all things that have been there offered, or may come to be offered, we will to be possessed by thee, as well as those who shall succeed thee in thy office and place, from the present time inviolate and without disturbance, provided thou apply them in all ways to the uses of those for whose sustenance and government they have been granted." The use and benefit of papal supremacy is beginning to be seen. This cumbrous legal enactment conferred upon Thalassia a life lease and freehold in the property of her convent, as secure as the tithes of his parish are to an English incumbent.

In this same letter, which was written some time in the latter part of the sixth century, there is also a clause concerning the election of an abbess. There is to be nothing crafty or secret about it. The election is to be conducted in the fear of God. The king is to choose such a woman as will meet with the approval of the nuns; she is then to be ordained by the bishop. This all goes to show that, even in those early times, for a woman who was willing to forego the attractions of married life, or was unwilling to accept its cares, the position of abbess was one which might well stir the ambitious. But, however that might be, in the same letter, Gregory, who evidently knew the weaknesses of human nature, prevented the questionable methods which the ambitious might be tempted to adopt. "No one," he says, "of the kings, no one of the priests, or any one else in person or by proxy, shall dare to accept anything in gold, or in any kind of consideration whatever, for the ordination of such abbess, or for any causes whatever pertaining to this monastery, and that the same abbess presume not to give anything on account of her ordination, lest by such occasion what is offered or has been offered to places of piety should be consumed. And inasmuch as many occasions for the deception of religious women are sought out, as is said, in your parts by bad men, we ordain that an abbess of this same monastery shall in no wise be deprived or deposed unless in case of criminality requiring it. Hence, it is necessary that if any complaint of this kind should arise against her, not only the bishop of the city of Autun should examine the case, but that he should call to his assistance six other of his fellow-bishops, and so fully investigate the matter to the end that, all judging with one accord, a strict canonical decision may either smite if guilty, or absolve her if innocent." A law against any wrong always predicates the existence of that fault. Hence, the prohibitions we have quoted could not have been of unknown occurrence among the fellow abbesses of Thalassia.

Through other letters we learn that it was in contradiction of monastic rule for those embracing that life to retain property of their own after profession, or even the power of disposing of it by will; it became the property of the convent. It appears, also, that if a nun were transferred from one monastery to another, or if, as sometimes happened, a consecrated virgin living at home had lapsed and was therefore sent to a monastery, her property always went to the convent in which she at that present time resided. This was so strictly enforced that when one Sirica, abbess at Caralis, made a will and distributed her property, Gregory ordered that it be restored to the monastery without dispute or evasion. As many women of position were induced to become nuns, it is easy to be seen how the convents quickly acquired great wealth.

All the abbesses did not consider themselves slavishly bound to follow the uniform rule. In the letter just mentioned, the same Sirica is seen to have manifested a refreshing independence in relation to other matters in regard to which a woman does not take kindly to outside interference. Gregory says: "And when we enquired of the Solicitude of your Holiness why you endured that property belonging to the monastery should be detained by others, our common son Epiphanius, your archpresbyter, being present before us, replied that the said abbess had up to the day of her death refused to wear the monastic dress, but had continued in the use of such dresses as are used by the presbyteresses of that place. To this the aforesaid Gavina replied that the practice had come to be almost lawful from custom, alleging that the abbess who had been before the above-mentioned Sirica had used such dresses. When, then, we begun to feel no small doubt with regard to the character of the dresses, it appeared necessary for us to consider with our legal advisers, as well as with the other learned men of this city, what was to be done with regard to law. And they, having considered the matter, answered that, after an abbess had been solemnly ordained by the bishop and had presided in the government of a monastery for many years until the end of her life, the character of her dress might attach blame to the bishop for having allowed it so to be, but still could not prejudice the monastery." Those "presbyteresses" whose attire Sirica considered she had ample right to copy, were the wives of presbyters who had been married before ordination. It is all very trivial; and yet there is to be recognized such a touch of naturalness about this abbess of thirteen centuries ago that it is worthy of remark. And it must be confessed that Sirica has our entire approval as we fancy we see her going calmly about the duties of her office, while Pope Gregory of Rome is calling together his legal advisers to know what shall be done about her dress, she all the while determined that she is going to array herself in exactly that style which, to her independent mind, seems most befitting.

When, however, serious faults on the part of nuns had to be dealt with, Gregory possessed, even in that early day, the power as well as the will to inflict punishment of a severe nature. Moreover, the Church had become what Rome was in the time of the emperors,--so universal and thoroughly organized that culprits could not hope to flee beyond the reach of the disciplinary hand. Petronilla, a nun of Lucania, had given way to the weakness of nature and the seducements of Agnellus, the son of a bishop. Taking the property which Petronilla had brought to the monastery, and also that which the father of Agnellus had given to the institution, they fled to Sicily in the hope of there enjoying love and affluence in their mutual companionship and that of their child. But Gregory's supervision was as far-reaching as was the power of his hand. He writes to Cyprian, Deacon and Rector of Sicily, "to cause the aforesaid man, and the above-named woman, to be summarily brought before thee, and institute a most thorough investigation into the case. And, if thou shouldest find it to be as reported to us, determine an affair defiled by so many iniquities with the utmost severity of expurgation; to the end that both strict retribution may overtake the man, who has regarded neither his own nor her condition, and that, she having been first punished and consigned to a monastery under penance, all the property that had been taken away from the above-named place, with all its fruits and accessions, may be restored." What the exact nature of the penance inflicted was we do not know; but in another place, speaking of nuns who had been detected in the same fault, the great bishop orders that they "afford an example of the more rigorous kind of discipline, such as may inspire fear in others." The Church had already acquired the power to enforce its artificial morality, which power it vigorously employed on those with whom it could afford to be at no pains to ingratiate itself.

Rigid disciplinarian as he was, and zealous in his labors to aggrandize the Church, Gregory was careful not to allow the privileges of monasticism to be pushed to the endangering, as he thought, of the moral welfare of those whom it concerned. The law was that if either a husband or a wife decided to devote himself or herself to the monastic life, the marriage bonds might be severed without the consent of the other partner. But in a letter which he wrote to a notary of Panormus and sent by the hand of a woman named Agathosa, he refers to the latter's claim that her husband had entered a monastery without her consent. He instructs the notary "to investigate the matter by diligent enquiry, so as to see whether it may not be the case that the man's profession was with her consent, or that she herself had promised to change her state. And should it be found to be so, see to his remaining in the monastery, and compel her to change her state, as she had promised. If, however, neither of these things is the case, and you do not find that the aforesaid woman has committed any crime of fornication on account of which it is lawful for a man to leave his wife, then, lest his profession should possibly be an occasion of perdition to the wife left behind in the world, we desire thee, without any excuse allowed, to restore her husband to her, even though he should be already tonsured." It is quite noticeable that the bishop would much prefer that the woman follow her husband's example and embrace the monastic life. It is possible that Gregory, in addition to his constant zeal in gaining recruits for this vocation, realized, personally inexperienced though he was in such matters, that the wife would find but cold comfort in the enforced embraces of a husband who preferred the monks of a religious house to her own society. Still, even in the case of a professed nun who had been forcibly compelled to marry against her will, he did not suggest that the matrimonial bonds should be severed without the consent of the enterprising husband, but only that she should have the right, after providing for her children, to devote the residue of her property to the Church to which she would gladly have sacrificed her whole life.

In those parts of the Christian world to which the authority of Pope Gregory did not extend, monasticism showed some peculiarities that were very dissimilar to the Benedictine rule. Perhaps the most striking of these is to be seen in the ancient British Church, that apostolic foundation which, until after the Saxon conquest, had never come under the influence of the Roman See. At Whitby, in Yorkshire, Saint Hild, the daughter of a king, reared a monastery which included, under her own personal government, both men and women. In adjoining buildings, nuns and monks lived in contemplative retirement, their life and studies superintended by this gifted woman, whose wisdom was such that her counsel was eagerly sought by the highest nobles in the land. Her institution was a training school for bishops and priests, as well as a haven of religious recreation for women of the world. That her rule was salutary, and this combination not prejudicial to good living, seems to be proved by the fact that she included among those who were trained under her supervision John of Beverly, who was as famous for his holiness as for his learning.

Thus, monasticism became an increasingly powerful factor in the social life of that far distant age. The importance of the institution lay in its complete universality. Wherever was found the Christian Church, there also was the religious house, a harbor of sanctity, presided over by an abbess chosen for her piety and strength of mind, filled with women who were not loath to forsake the pleasures of the world for the love of peace and divine contemplation. From the Eternal City where Gregory was reviving in religious guise that power which for so many centuries had dominated the world, and where alone was retained what remained of a departed civilization, to Streonshealh where Hild, daughter of barbaric chiefs, reared her abbey on the summit of the dark cliffs of Whitby, looking out over the gloom of the Northern Sea, these convents represented what was then considered as the acme of feminine attainment.

That feminine monasticism had its uses and conferred its benefits it would be an absurdity to deny. Despite the falsity of the unnatural moral theory which supplied too largely its motive, monasticism was an outward and visible sign of that human evolution which makes for progress. The selfishness of its spiritual aims was in accord with the strenuous individualism of that new age; its dualistic theory of nature was at least a revolt from the brutal animalism of the day. Moreover, it furnished the only opportunity that human life then afforded for calm and concentrated reflection on any subject save eating, breeding, and killing. The monastery was the bridge by which the salvage from the dissolution of ancient civilization was carried over the Dark Ages to the Renaissance.

When we seek for the peculiar benefits monasticism provided for women, they are found to be two. The universally recognized sanctity of the cloister provided, in an age of exceeding brutality, a sanctuary where woman might take refuge, and where something at least of the spirituality of her nature might be neither outraged nor obliterated. It may be that, after all unfavorable judgments have been passed, if it had not been for the veneration of cloistered virginity, in so rude an age the world might have forgotten what modesty and purity are. Also, it is not favorable to the highest development of womanhood to be absolutely restricted to the one vocation of marriage. If, to-day, women are not better wives, they surely are more self-respecting for the fact that there is a possibility of their being independent and yet remain unmarried. What business now does for woman, in the olden times was done by the female monastery: it provided examples of the sex, who were glorious, and yet unmarried. The woman crossed in love, or the girl threatened with a union repugnant to her feelings, could say: "I will be a nun," and thereby gain the highest esteem of the world.

VII

WOMEN WHO WITNESSED THE FALL OF ROME

The Empire had forfeited its right to take its title from the ancient city on the Tiber long before its final dismemberment. Constantine had removed his court and capital to the Bosphorus, and there the metropolis of the East remained. The Western emperors established their courts in various parts of Europe, their locations being usually determined by the exigences of rivalry and the territorial success of their usurpation. Roman citizenship had become universal and at the same time meaningless: it represented no privileges other than the bare fact that its owner was not a slave. The freedom it conferred was only relative and, to a very great extent, merely theoretical; practically, all were the slaves of the emperor. The race of Romulus had degenerated into a pretentious but pusillanimous aristocracy, who desired no title to glory save that found in pedigree. There was not left in them sufficient virility to set up, much less to maintain, an emperor of their own race; their rulers were of barbarian extraction. The Roman army was a cosmopolitan aggregation, in which Italy was the least represented of the provinces. Ammianus Marcellinus, the historian, writing late in the fourth century, says: "The modern nobles measure their rank and consequence according to the loftiness of their chariots and the weighty magnificence of their dress. Their long robes of silk and purple float in the wind; and as they are agitated by art or accident, they occasionally discover the under-garments, the rich tunics, embroidered with the figures of various animals." Gibbon notes that the more pious coxcombs substituted the figure of some favorite saint. Ammianus goes on to describe how, "followed by a train of fifty servants, and tearing up the pavement, they move along the streets with the same impetuous speed as if they travelled with post-horses; and the example of the senators is boldly imitated by the matrons and ladies, whose covered carriages are continually driving round the immense space of the city and suburbs. Whenever these persons of high distinction condescend to visit the public baths, they assume, on their entrance, a tone of loud and insolent command, and appropriate to their exclusive use the conveniences which were designed for the Roman people. If, in these places of mixed and general resort, they meet any of the infamous ministers of their pleasures, they express their affection by a tender embrace; while they proudly disdain the salutation of their fellow-citizens who are not permitted to aspire above the honor of kissing their hands or their knees. As soon as they have indulged themselves in the refreshment of the bath, they resume their rings and the other ensigns of their dignity, select from their private wardrobe (of the finest linen, and of a quantity such as might suffice for a dozen persons), the garments most agreeable to their fancy, and maintain till their departure the same haughty demeanor.... The acquisition of knowledge seldom engages the attention of nobles, who abhor the fatigue and disdain the advantages of study. The libraries which they have inherited from their fathers are secluded, like dreary sepulchres, from the light of day. The art of obtaining the signature of a favorable testament, and sometimes of hastening the moment of its execution, is perfectly understood; and it has happened that in the same house, though in different apartments, a husband and a wife, with the laudable design of over-reaching each other, have summoned their respective lawyers, to declare, at the same time, their mutual but contradictory wishes."

It is probable that Ammianus, with the disdain which students are apt to affect toward the unphilosophic multitude, has exaggerated the disregard of the Roman nobility for books. We have seen that many of the female friends of Jerome were most ardent lovers of literature; and the Christian Fathers constantly evince an expectation of finding among their female followers an enthusiastic reading public. These women read theological works; it is not unreasonable to suppose that their less heavenly-minded sisters were as assiduous students of the classical secular books.

We have the names and somewhat of the history of a few of the women who lived in this period, but they are all from the highest and most conspicuous society. History loves a shining mark. If the chroniclers of the time had favored us with a detailed descriptive account of the life of the common people, it would have been of more value than that of many nobles.

The population of Rome at this time has been estimated at between one million two hundred thousand and two million. This, of course, includes the vast army of slaves, which remained undiminished after the change of the national religion. But there was also a great horde of free, poor plebeians, who were the perpetual paupers of the government. These lived in the same careless, indigent idleness as had the same class in preceding centuries. They inhabited tenements not unlike those known to the great cities of modern times. These houses were of several stories, each tenement sheltering a number of families. That they were exceedingly uncomfortable is easy to believe, seeing that even the wealthy of ancient times, notwithstanding the architectural grandeur which they could command, were ignorant of the ordinary modern domestic conveniences. The free working class of the present day was then practically unknown: that place was taken by the slaves. So the poverty-stricken Roman citizen was both necessarily and willingly unemployed. Generally, however, corn, wine, and oil were supplied him with little or no expense to himself. Each morning, at a set time, his wife would repair to a prescribed station in the district, and there, on showing a citizen's ticket, she would receive a three-pound loaf of bread. So indulgent was the government, that it ground and baked the allowance which at one time was made in the shape of corn. During five months in the year there was also distributed, to the poorer people, an allowance of pork; the annual consumption of this kind of meat in Rome was three million six hundred and twenty-eight thousand pounds. When the populace had clamored before Augustus for free wine as well as bread, that wise and firm ruler reminded them that since his friend Agrippa had brought into the city a bountiful supply of pure water, no Roman need complain of thirst. But those emperors who denuded Roman citizenship entirely of its right of suffrage yet had an interest in keeping the populace quiet and contented; hence, in the fourth century there existed public cellars from whence was dispensed, at a small cost to the inhabitants of Rome, the fermented vintage of Campania.

It was also necessary, the people being idle, that they should be amused. There were the magnificent public baths where they could while away the time in luxury and gossip. But the amusement with which the multitude was never satiated was found in the exhibitions of the circus. On special occasions, many would sleep in the porticoes near by, in order to be the first on hand to obtain seats in the morning. The immense amphitheatre would accommodate four hundred thousand. Christianity abolished the gladiatorial combat of former times; but there still remained the exciting and perilous chariot race and the hunting and fighting of wild beasts. Nor had Christianity been able to purify the stage to any great extent. The Muses of Tragedy and a statelier comedy were entirely abandoned for licentious farces. No fewer than three thousand female dancers were occupied in the theatres of Rome. At a time of famine when all strangers were banished from the city, and also the teachers of the liberal arts, these dancers were exempted by the edict.

The people of Rome were afforded an additional source of interest in the ecclesiastical contentions which were aroused by the ambitions and the theological disputes of the clergy. Before the close of the fourth century the bishopric of Rome had become an office more fitted to be sought after by the worldly-minded than by the imitator of the humble Galilean fishermen. Its vacation was the signal for a contention in which rival candidates were not averse to employing the violence of the common people as well as the influence of noble Christian ladies. Ammianus describes how "the ardor of Damasus and Ursinus to seize the episcopal seat surpassed the ordinary measure of human ambition. They contended with the rage of party; the quarrel was maintained by the wounds and death of their followers; and the prefect, unable to resist or appease the tumult, was constrained, by superior violence, to retire into the suburbs. Damasus prevailed: the well-disputed victory remained on the side of his faction; one hundred and thirty-seven dead bodies were found in the Basilica of Sicininus, where the Christians held their religious assemblies; and it was long before the angry minds of the people resumed their accustomed tranquillity. When I consider the splendor of the capital, I am not astonished that so valuable a prize should inflame the desires of ambitious men, and produce the fiercest and most obstinate contests. The successful candidate is confident that he will be enriched by the offerings of matrons; that, as soon as his dress is composed with becoming care and elegance, he may proceed in his chariot through the streets of Rome; and that the sumptuousness of the imperial table will not equal the profuse and delicate entertainments provided by the taste and expense of the Roman bishops."

The practice of taking advantage of the charity--or the sentiment--of wealthy ladies had become so prevalent among the clergy that the government had been compelled to regard it as an abuse to be severely legislated against. By his enemies, Bishop Damasus himself was nicknamed Auriscalpius Matronarum (the ladies' ear scratcher). An edict on the subject was addressed by Valentinian to this bishop who was directed to have it read in the churches of his diocese. It must have been a humiliating document for the clerics of the time to listen to in the presence of their congregations. It admonished them not to frequent the houses of virgins and widows. The habit had become popular for wealthy and devout ladies to choose some monk or priest as their individual and private spiritual director. That the confidence reposed in the latter was often abused is indicated by the edict which prohibited him from profiting by any gift or legacy from his spiritual protégée; the same abuse is also frankly acknowledged in the writings of the Fathers. As we have seen in the case of Jerome and Paula, such a relationship might be perfectly innocent, though somewhat hysterical. Human nature is the same in all ages; and, given a woman whose sentimental nature predisposed her to seek an indemnification in spiritual companionship for those ordinary delights which, by pious vows, she had denied herself; an ecclesiastic, frail in principle, but apt to cloak his designs with the sanctity of ghostly affection and disinterested charity, and the result is not unlikely to be disastrous to the reputation of the lady and, also, to the expectations of her heirs. The law of Valentinian, forbidding these women to make clerics their legatees, precluded the former from the comfort of an ostentatious guaranty of their piety, and stigmatized the disinterestedness of the latter.

Such, then, was the condition of the Roman Empire at the time when the causes leading to its decline were nearing their culmination. After Julian's death under the assassin's hand, Jovian followed in a brief reign. Then Valentinian came to the throne. In this emperor is witnessed that astonishing mixture of vice and virtue, barbarous cruelty and Christian belief which characterized that period. It was an age of bitter warfare; every human force was engaged in deadly contention; both the Church and the Empire were fighting for their lives. The latter could scarcely keep off the hordes of barbarians which were swarming and surging upon its borders, and at times it seemed as if the former had quite succumbed to the heresy of Arianism. It was the most deadly battle that the Church has ever had to wage. After the question of who should rule, theology was the most important item in the politics of the time. Varying metaphysical definitions which baffled the acumen of the wisest philosophers were confidently espoused in a spirit of partisanship by mechanics and ignorant persons of both sexes. It was the difference of an iota--homoousios or homoiousios.

Valentinian favored orthodoxy, not because of sturdy convictions (he said it was a question for bishops), but because the Church in the West was mainly Catholic; but in Justina, his wife, the Arians were compensated by a powerful champion. Socrates, the historian, describes the marriage of Justina as having taken place under most remarkable circumstances. The story is interesting, though of somewhat doubtful veracity: "Justus, the father of Justina, who had been governor of Picenum under the reign of Constantius, had a dream in which he seemed to himself to bring forth the imperial purple out of his right side. When this dream had been told to many persons, it at length came to the knowledge of Constantius, who conjecturing it to be a presage that a descendant of Justus would become emperor, caused him to be assassinated. Justina, being thus bereft of her father, still continued a virgin. Some time after, she became known to Severa, wife of the Emperor Valentinian, and had frequent intercourse with the empress, until their intimacy at length grew to such an extent that they were accustomed to bathe together. When Severa saw Justina in the bath she was greatly struck with the beauty of the virgin, and spoke of her to the emperor, saying that the daughter of Justus was so lovely a creature and possessed of such symmetry of form, that she herself, though a woman, was altogether charmed with her. The emperor, treasuring this description by his wife in his own mind, considered with himself how he could espouse Justina, without repudiating Severa, who had borne him Gratian, whom he had created Augustus a short time before. He accordingly framed a law, and caused it to be published throughout all the cities, by which any man was permitted to have two lawful wives. The law was promulgated and he married Justina, by whom he had Valentinian the younger, and three daughters--Justa, Grata, and Galla.... Galla was afterwards married to Theodosius the Great, who had by her a daughter named Placidia."

This story, romantic as it is, lacks all the hallmarks of credibility. In the first place, there is absolutely no trace of this remarkable law either in the codes or in other historians. Furthermore, the ancient Church was more severely opposed to bigamy and polygamy than it was to any other deviation from common morals. Also the Roman law strongly discountenanced plurality in marriage. Moreover, we have it on the authority of Ammianus, who is a most trustworthy witness, that Valentinian was remarkable for his chastity, both at home and abroad. Also in contradiction to what Socrates relates, Zosimus asserts that Justina had already been married to Magnentius, and that the emperor was joined to her in matrimony after the death of Severa, his first wife. Either this latter statement must be accepted as the fact in the case, or we must believe that the first empress was divorced, a procedure that was certainly not difficult and was extremely customary for the rulers of Rome. What is probably the truth of the matter is that this story of Justina being the partner of Valentinian in bigamy was a malicious invention; possibly the discredit of its promulgation should be laid at the door of some of the Unscrupulous among the orthodox, who were incensed at her support of heresy.

It was customary for the empress to accompany her imperial husband in his military expeditions about the Empire. Apart from other considerations, this was necessary to her safety and that of her offspring. Conspirators are apt to perpetrate their designs in the absence of the ruler against whom they are plotting; and in that case, the legitimate successor, with his protectors--if within reach--is the first victim of the ambition or precaution of his father's enemies. Consequently, it was usual for the emperors to take their families with them even in the most distant journeys. The advantage of this was illustrated in the death of Valentinian. He had marched against the Quadi who were vexing the frontier on the bank of the Danube. In his customary cruel manner, he put to death all who fell into his power, murdering even the women and children. The desperate people sent envoys begging for peace and forgiveness, but Valentinian broke out upon them in one of those paroxysms of rage to which he was subject, and, in the midst of his terrible invectives, ruptured a blood vessel in his lungs, which caused his death upon the spot.

At the moment, Justina was occupying a palace at a short distance from Bregetio, where the death of her husband occurred. Gratian, the son of Severa, had already been invested by his father with the imperial purple; but the court ministers, inspired probably with the thought of those advantages which such men enjoy during the reign of an infant, immediately planned to exalt to the throne of Valentinian the latter's four-year-old son, who bore the same name. Justina was sent for and placed by the ministers on a regal platform facing the troops. She held her young son in her arms; and the picture of a beautiful woman, endowed both with the fruit and the graces of motherhood, had its never failing effect of stirring the soldiers to an outburst of chivalric enthusiasm. The infant was there and then invested with the purple and the insignia of empire, which, it may be added, he never wore with greater effect than in the hour when his puny infant form was first arrayed in them. Whatever real influence his name had in the government was wielded by Justina. But Gratian was emperor. He it was who commanded the army and ruled the Empire, while Justina held court and engaged in petty domestic politics at Milan and Sirmium. One thing is certain and is remarkable enough to be mentioned--the two empress-mothers, Severa and Justina, lived as co-widows in that mutual harmony which Socrates would have us believe characterized them as co-wives.

Perhaps the principal event of the life of Justina was her controversy with Saint Ambrose, Bishop of Milan, who was one of the noblest men of the ancient Church, and who, by his courage and integrity, set an example for all succeeding bishops. Contemning the pomps and vanities of the world, he did not disdain to use the powers of his office for the political advantage of either the Church or the state; so, when Maximus usurped the imperial privilege in the Gallic provinces, Ambrose was sent as an ambassador by Justina to beg the clemency of the new emperor for herself and her son. Maximus reigned in the far West, while at his sufferance Valentinian II. was emperor in Italy.

While this young emperor--who died at the age of twenty-one--reigned, his mother ruled. Justina, however, appears to have been an easy-going woman. She does not seem to have been possessed of much ambition, and there is no indication that she interfered very strenuously in the affairs of the Empire. She found herself in the position which she occupied, and endeavored to preserve herself and her son in safety. Tolerance was marked in all that she did, and there was a very evident willingness to leave others unmolested, provided she and her son were allowed to maintain their position in security. Of course, while they retained the names of empress-mother and emperor, their real power was but slight. Valentinian II. was never more than a boy, and Justina possessed no military command. Nevertheless, it does seem as if she were endowed with some real ability, or she could not have maintained herself in comparative security during seventeen years of such troublous and changeful times.

Justina's controversy with Saint Ambrose seems to have been the one point on which she had serious difficulty with her subjects, and this appears to have affected only the people of Milan. Gibbon, in his inimitable manner, thus describes the incident: "The government of Italy and of the young emperor naturally devolved to his mother Justina, a woman of beauty and spirit, but who, in the midst of an orthodox people, had the misfortune of professing the Arian heresy, which she endeavored to instil into the mind of her son. Justina was persuaded that a Roman emperor might claim, in his own dominions, the public exercise of his religion; and she proposed to the archbishop, as a moderate and reasonable concession, that he should resign the use of a single church, either in the city or suburbs of Milan. But the conduct of Ambrose was governed by very different principles. The palaces of earth might indeed belong to Cæsar, but the churches were the houses of God; and, within the limits of his diocese, he himself, as the lawful successor of the apostles, was the only minister of God. The privileges of Christianity, temporal as well as spiritual, were confined to the true believers; and the mind of Ambrose was satisfied that his own theological opinions were the standard of truth and orthodoxy. The archbishop, who refused to hold any conference or negotiation with the instruments of Satan, declared with modest firmness his resolution to die a martyr rather than to yield to the impious sacrilege; and Justina, who resented the refusal as an act of insolence and rebellion, hastily determined to exert the imperial prerogative of her son."

Under ordinary circumstances, in a like situation, it is very probable that the bishop's reiterated desire for martyrdom would have been gratified. But Ambrose was secure, owing to the intense orthodoxy of all Justina's subjects. In an attack on religion, there was no one to carry out her commands. "As she desired to perform her public devotions on the approaching festival of Easter, Ambrose was ordered to appear before the council. He obeyed the summons with the respect of a faithful subject, but he was followed, without his consent, by an innumerable people: they pressed, with impetuous zeal, against the gates of the palace; and the affrighted ministers of Valentinian, instead of pronouncing a sentence of exile on the archbishop of Milan, humbly requested that he would interpose his authority, to protect the person of the emperor, and to restore the tranquillity of the capital."

In the end the bishop prevailed. There are extant certain letters written by the saint to his sister, Marcellina, in which he describes the circumstances of this dispute with Justina. He recounts how soldiers were sent to occupy the church which the empress desired for her own heretical use, and how they fraternized with the Catholic people who refused to give up the sacred building. The bishop asserts that in the midst of all this tumult and public inharmony, he gave utterance only to "freer groans." But there is evidence in bis own letters that Ambrose took a more active and also a more effective course than mere pious groaning; indeed, he showed a remarkable boldness of decision, as well as astuteness, in his political methods. He met the occasion with a sermon on the trials of Job, which could hardly have aroused pleasant reflections in the mind of Justina. "But Job was tried by accumulated tidings of evils, he was also tried by his wife, who said, 'Speak a word against God and die.' You see what terrible things are of a sudden stirred up, the Goths, armed men, the heathen.... You observe what was commanded when the order was given: 'Surrender the Basilica!' that is, speak a word against God and die.... So, then, we are prepared by the imperial commands, but are strengthened by the words of Scripture, which replies: 'Thou hast spoken as one of the foolish.' That temptation then is no light one, for we know that those temptations are more severe which arise through women. For even Adam was overthrown by Eve, whereby it came to pass that he erred from the divine commandments.... Why should I relate that Jezebel, also, persecuted Elijah after a bloodthirsty fashion? Or that Herodias caused John the Baptist to be slain?... Of women change follows on change, their hatreds alternate, their falsehoods vary, elders assemble together, wrong done to the emperor is made a pretence."