ST. ANTHONY.

THIS famous saint-especially famous wherever and whenever St. Anthony's fire is stalking like a pestilence abroadwas born in Egypt in the year 251. Disposing of his property and giving the proceeds to the poor, he retired to the desert, and, owing to his reputed sanctity, attracted many disciples. He thus formed the first monastic community, and is regarded as the originator of the religious orders of the East. He afterwards, at Alexandria, sought martyrdom amid the persecutions of the Christians there prevailing; but his life was spared, and he returned to the desert, where he dwelt until his death. All his conduct indicates a fervent and melancholy imagination. That he used no garments but a shirt made of hair, and a sheep's skin, and never washed his body, is more credible than the strange stories of his contests with devils and the wonders related in his life by St. Athanasius. And, by the by, what a dirty and disgusting set of pietists most of the old monks were. In their view, following several pre-Christian Oriental teachers and sects, the body was only a vile, sinful, almost diabolical tabernacle for the immaterial soul, and the more mortification, abuse, and indignity heaped upon it, the more dirty and noisome it was kept, the more it was frozen or scorched or wounded, or tormented in numberless ways; in fact, the more bestial and cruel and devilish one's treatment of his body, the more ethereal and heavenly the soul would become, and the fitter it would be for an introduction into the heavenly mansions, to bear company with the altogether lovely Jesus and his blessed virgin mother-our Lady of Heaven-and other celebrated ladies and gentlemen of the New Jerusalem, which, of course,

was all paved and bedecked in the splendor of thrice-refined gold and rarest gems and jewels of all celestial hues, and cooled with cleansing fountains innumerable, all springing from under the great white throne of God, who, we have not the least doubt, is a very clean person himself, when not dabbling in blood.

The visions of this monk, rather than his piety, rendered him celebrated among the anchorites of his age, and gave him an immense reputation for holiness, which extended over to the extremity of Gaul. Although he could neither read nor write, St. Anthony has left many works, which he dictated, in the Egyptian language, to his disciples; among others, seven letters, filled with the true apostolic spirit, which were translated first into Greek and then into Latin. In the midst of the extravagant and incoherent recitals of his ecstacies and his temptations, we have been struck with the singular reveiation which it is said he had a few days before his death, and which has been transmitted to us by one of his disciples: "The holy man was seated," thus goes the legend, "when the Divine Spirit descended upon him. Then he entered into an ecstacy, his eyes raised to heaven, and his attention fixed. He remained for five hours in complete immobility, groaning from time to time; at length he fell upon his knees. We all, seized with dread, besought him to tell us the subject of his tears. Oh! my children,' replied he, 'the wrath of God will fall upon the Church; we will be delivered over to men like to unclean beasts; for I have seen the holy table surrounded by mules and asses, which overturned the altars of Christ by rude kicks, and which defiled the sacred body of the Savior! I heard a voice cry out, Thus my altar shall be profaned by abominable ministers, who shall call themselves the successors of the apostles.'

Whether or not we believe that the saint saw all this in a prophetic vision, it was certainly only a too correct prevision of the horrible times that were even then at the door.

Anthony is said to have died at the age of one hundred and five years.

ST. PAUL THE HERMIT.

IN EVERY religion that has ever been embraced by mankind, sacrifice and mortification have been held necessary to the attainment of sanctity. Comfort has been considered sinful, pleasure profane. To seclude themselves among the rugged rocks of some solitary waste, or bury themselves in the gloomy depths of some trackless forest; to make themselves revolting, and adopt the ways of wild animals; to divest themselves of decent dress, and assume an apparel uncouth and uncomfortable; to crawl into caves in the earth; to live under trees, or upon the tops of poles and pillars; to ally themselves with the brute creation, and render themselves as filthy and disgusting as possible; to subject themselves to bodily torture; to extinguish the last faint glimmer of genius and intellect, and to scorn the society of human beings-such were considered by the arcient Christian anchorites as the surest means of securing the sanctification of the soul and the reward of everlasting happiness. A credulous and superstitious world has always considered self inflicted suffering the most meritorious act of piety.

Asceticism, with all the gloomy characteristics of monkery, had a heathen origin. It sprang from the rank soil of Egypt, the prolific parent of many of the religions of earth. It was there, long before the coming of Christ, that those dismal and rigid sects, the Essenes and Therapeutæ, had their rise and habitation. All the ancient contemporary writers speak of the gymnosophists as practicers of the most painful penances and austerities. They, like their subsequent Christian imitators, went nearly naked, occupied caverns and chinks in the rocks, professed chastity and abstinence, and passed their time in mute meditation.

In the course of time the Egyptian system of monkery came under the more powerful influence of Christianity. The only material modifications it underwent were the adoption of a few phrases in another dialect. Only these distinguished the Christian anchorite from the Egyptian gymnosophist. The most rigid of the Christian devotees dispensed with all dress except a rug or a few palm-leaves about the loins. They never changed their garments, and made no use of water for ablution. It is related that St. Anthony bequeathed to Athanasius a skin in which his sacred person had been wrapped for half a century. They allowed their beards and nails to grow, and frequently became so covered with hair as to be actually mistaken for wild beasts.

Paul, commonly called the Hermit, affords one of the most remarkable instances of this foolish fanaticism. The career of this devotee was between the years 250 and 340. During the persecution under Decius he betook himself to the solitary deserts of Egypt, where, for more than ninety years, he lived the life of a savage animal rather than that of a human being. He was really the founder of the Christian monastic institutions, though Anthony, an Egyptian, who lived some thirty years later, has usually been given this credit. These are the only reliable facts that can be accurately ascertained concerning his personal history. The institution that he was instrumental in founding has survived all the generations that have come and gone since his time, and the wreck of many a realm and splendid dynasty. It appears that he was a strange fanatic, who, by a course of conduct only consistent with that of an idiot or lunatic, has secured an eminent rank among the saints and champions of a corrupt and degenerate Church.

STEPHEN I.

THE spirit of strife seems to have been an accompaniment of the progress of Christianity. The religion of the Man of Peace, even in its embryotic state deposited seeds of discord that soon convulsed all the East with Christian combat. The founders and early Fathers of the Church were mostly fierce and fanatical men, always ready to fight for the glory of one who had come on earth to bring tidings of peace and good will to men. They fought with each other because they were not yet strong enough to persecute those outside the faith. Dissensions arose in the days of the tent-maker of Tarsus. The early councils were scenes of contention. Wrangling prelates fell foul of each other, and ferocious bishops and patriarchs kicked each other to death for Christ's sake. Rival councils set their slaughtering soldiery upon each other, and for centuries riot and bloodshed, outrage and assassination filled Antioch, Alexandria, Chalcedon, Constantinople, and all the great capitals of the East with anarchy, pious plunder, and pillage. From Peter, who smote off an ear with the sword, to his last successor invested with the triple crown, the heads and rulers of the Church have been, with few excep tions, turbulent and ungovernable bigots.

The subject of this sketch occupies a prominent place in this list of lordly and exasperated ecclesiastics. He is enumerated the twenty-fourth pope in the Catholic catalogue; but, as has been already shown, there was properly no pope till 606. This Stephen was a Roman by birth, and the son of a priest named Julius. He was chosen bishop in 253 as a recompense for services rendered the Church. He was a haughty and imperious person, and it was not long after the