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."