agreeable to him? Ask all these whether they can consent to revile the silence of monks and hermits, who left men of the world to converse as much as they pleased, but found for themselves, in whose bosoms were united perhaps all these characters, rest in the study of noble themes, in the passion of remembrance, and in communication with God? They will reply, perhaps, by repeating stanzas from the poem of Mathisson, beginning "Into the silent land, Ah! who shall lead us thither ?" In fact, in one sense it seems an invitation to such retreats as these, "O land! O land! For all the broken-hearted, The mildest herald by our fate allotted Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand, To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great departed, Into the silent land." All these things already glanced at being then more or less necessary to render possible and desirable a life in common, and it being clear that without the principles and even doctrines which centre in Catholicism they cannot be procured, it is but logical to conclude that a complete monastic association will never be realized excepting within that pale, by some chosen few in particular conditions, and with an especial grace from God. Some have compared the wonders of such a state with the Socialist's Utopias of our days; but it can only be to place this fact for a moment in a point of view more forcible and adapted to the capacities of the present age; for otherwise such an association of things essentially distinct would serve to no useful purpose. As connected with the power of enduring retreat, stability, and silence, the extension and even position of the monasteries, is again a very remarkable and significant fact. Systematic adversaries, when such a fancy takes them, may establish in some one locality a house in which the monastic forms may be externally, to a certain extent, and for a short time, imitated; but let them try to introduce and permanently establish throughout, not Europe, but only their own privileged domains, such institutions, and their discomfiture will be complete. The existence of monasteries, taking into account their essential character and that of the persons who inhabited them in such vast numbers over the world, can hardly be reconciled with a belief in the falsehood of the principles from which they emanated. Antonio de Escobar says, that more than 30,000 abbeys and 17,000 66 priories follow the rule of St. Benedict; but Yepes says, that the Benedictine order counted 47,000 abbeys and 14,000 priories*. "We reckon," says a Franciscan author, more than 1600 convents of our order, besides others now building in different places+." In Oxirinthus, besides the monasteries, there were monks dwelling under the gates and in the towers of the city, so that," says an ancient writer, "the bishop could preach as well in the streets as in a church." In the seventh century, through all the provinces of Gaul, houses of monks and nuns were established, not alone in towns and villas, villages and castles, but also throughout vast desert regions. In Vienne, in Dauphiny, were no less than sixty monasteries of the Benedictine order of men and women, as Surius relates. In the year 1436, under the episcopacy of Frederick III., bishop of Constance, the number of monasteries in that diocese alone amounted to 350, which, even after the pseudo-reform, was increased by the introduction of Capuchins, Carmelites, and barefooted Franciscans; and instead of ten or twelve monks living together, thirty, and even as many as seventy monks would thus be found in one house §. The greater monasteries every where had no want of inhabitants. In St. Peter's de Cardenna were at one time 200 monks, all of whom became martyrs; in St. Peter's of Arlanza were 240. In the monasteries of Sahagun, of St. Emilian, of Onnensis, Cellanova, and Alcobacensis, the numbers were far greater. At Clairvaux, in the time of St. Bernard, were 700; at Pobletensis, in Catalonia, were 500; in Jumièges were 900, beside 1500 servants who almost led a religious life. Trithemius said that the monastic society formed a considerable part of Christendom ¶. Louis XII. used to say jestingly, that St. Maur had acquired more with his breviary than he and his predecessors with their swords. If these numbers, by the way, should offend you by their magnitude, might it not be well to seek to recover your tranquillity by looking at the modern statistical tables, which give the numbers of persons at the present day in asylums of an unquestionably unhappy kind, as unions, madhouses, prisons, and penitentiaries, the need of which, in former times, comparatively can hardly be said to have existed, and that not, as some suppose, from indifference or the universal practice of putting every one criminal to death, but from the preventatives which existed * Yepes, Chron. Gen. tom. ii. 143. + Bucchius, Lib. Conformit. 164. Gab. Bucelinus, Constantia Rhenana, 27. Lib. i. de Vir. Illust. c. 2. against both moral and physical evil? It would seem that by a law of humanity retreat of some kind must be the lot of multitudes. Is it not better that it should be voluntary and happy, than compulsive and miserable? But not alone the number, the very position of monasteries in places far from the attractions that generally cause men to congregate, must be considered as significant. Cicero says of a certain locality, "Et locus est ipse non tam ad inflammandos calamitosorum animos quam ad consolandos accommodatus *.” The question now is, how came such multitudes to prefer localities that had only the latter advantage to offer? Here, in order to make some observations, let us repair to the deserts, amidst woods and mountains, where monasteries were often found. If the existence itself, under any circumstances, of these institutions require a combination of principles which have their centre in Catholicism, we shall find that their existence in such places as these, in which most of them took at least their origin, constitutes a fact not wholly insignificative of the truth from which they emanate. It is a wild path in general which men have to tread when they set out for the ancient monastery. It is an occasion for exclaiming with Brunetto, in his Tesoretto, "Well away! what fearful ground Not a thing I mote descry." Sometimes we shall have to ascend the summit of lofty mountains to unfrequented deserts, where the snow dwells, to which men can be guided by the eagle; that bird which resembles in its haunts some of these religious men; for, as Pliny says, describing it, "conversatur in montibus." Here, as we before observed, the dark pine-woods present too an analogy in their tastes; for, as the same observer remarks, "Picea montes amat atque frigora t." If we go back to very early ages we shall have to pass over to barren islands within which monks were dwelling, as appears from the monasteries found in Capraria, Gorgonia, and Palmaria in the year 398, as also from those of Lerins in Gaul, in the island of St. Simon, which is opposite Redondela in Gallicia, and from those of Diomedes and of Trimeti near Mount Gargano ‡. Pro P. Sulla. Yepes, Chron. Gen. ii. 6, 7. † N. H. xv. 18. 66 At other times it is through the shady peace of sombre forests that we have to pursue our way, appalled by the solitude, and only seeing light break dimly through sylvan cloisters far in the distance, till emerging from the gloom we find the venerable pile standing alone in the wilderness, with lawny mountains sloping round about it, their summits clothed with woods of fir aye dropping their hard fruit upon the ground, and in their ravines vast caves inviting the curiosity of all who pass. The name even is sometimes derived from one of these green-robed senators of mighty woods found in the vicinity. Thus, three leagues south-west from Morimond, in a beautiful valley, watered by a rivulet which falls into the Meuse, was the monastery of Belfays, called from an immense beech that stood there, Bellus Fagus. The scenery around monasteries is sometimes fearfully austere. "The Augustinian monastery of Seefeld, in Bavaria, stands,” says Crusenius, on a mountain, shaggy with rocks and ancient woods, where ice and snow seem to be perpetual; a place by nature adapted to penance and to the eremitical life." In fact, no one who has seen that mountain can ever forget its form or the wild desolation that reigns around. "There," adds this author, " we are truly monks, true solitary hermits of St. Augustin, excepting that during the short summer many strangers come there to fulfil their vows and ask benefits*." The abbey of Stavelo stands in a valley which, at the time of its erection, was a profound solitude, Spa, which is only three miles distant from it, not being then in existence. The monks over whom St. Stephen had presided, after his death being calumniated by some in their neighbourhood who envied their celebrity, and persecuted by the rustics whom these men had instigated against them, removed from Muret to Grandmont. It was in 1132 when the Lord Amelius de Montecucullus gave them the whole wood on the mountain of Grandmont, and Henry II., king of England, money to build their convent. This is in the mountainous region of Limoges, austere, cold, barren, and rocky, exposed to clouds and storms, of which the water is too cold to be drunk with safety. Here, between four mountains, stood the monastery, magnificently built, where later rose the small town of Grandmont t. When the abbey of Pontigny was built in 1114, it stood amidst vast, unbounded, sterile lands or commons, and primeval forests. The chief flocks were swine. Here and there the granges of the abbey formed central spots, which subsequently gave rise to villages and towns. Rievaulx, when the abbey was founded there, was, to use the *Monastic. Augustinianum, p. iii. 46. + Levesque, Annales Ord. Grandimontis, 1. words of William of Newbury, "locus horroris et vastæ solitudinis *." Such, too, was the site of Ely, Croyland, and of most others. "Some time after passing Bembibre," says a traveller in Spain, “half-way up the mountain over whose foot we were wending, jutted forth a black, frightful crag, which at an immense altitude overhung the road, and seemed to threaten destruction. It resembled one of those ledges of the rocky mountains in the picture of the Deluge, up to which the terrified fugitives have scrambled. Built on the very edge of this crag stood an edifice, seemingly devoted to the purposes of religion, as I could discern the spire of a church rearing itself high over wall and roof. That is the house of the Virgin of the Rocks,' said the peasant, and it was lately full of friars; but they have been thrust out, and the only inmates now are owls and ravens."" It was in 1122 that the forest of La Trappe beheld the foundation of a monastery by Rotrou II., count of Perche. This solitude, from time immemorial, bore the name of Trap, to signify that it was difficult to discover the way out when once within its labyrinth. Even at this day, when roads have been cut, it is nearly impossible to find the monastery without a guide. "Lately," says a monk of the house, "a travelling merchant, surprised by night, lost his way, and was only directed by the sound of the bell for matins, which he followed till he arrived at the monastery at midnight, where he was so moved by what he saw, that he never left it more, but took the habit, and died as one of the elect. An Italian nobleman similarly lost all track in the woods, and could not even learn from the peasants whom he met which was the way to the monastery. A few years ago a Belgian, in like manner, after travelling from an early hour, while endeavouring to visit the monastery, found himself at noon in the very spot where he had first entered the forest, and was obliged to renounce his intention of seeing La Trappe †.” In general the names bespeak the original nature of the site. If the monks came to a dense, obscure forest, they formed clear spaces within it, and the spot was called thenceforth Clairlieu, Vauclair, or Vauluisant. A thorny thicket near Bourbonneles-bains became Vaux-la-douce; dangerous defiles and cutthroat gorges amidst rocks were then called La Charité, Vausainte, Grace-Dieu. Morimond had a grange which was formerly called Wildhausen, wild house in the woods. The charter of Romaric, count of Avendo, to the monastery of Romaric, on the mountains of the Vosges, contains these words, * Rer. Ang. lib. i. + Hist. des Trappistes du Val Ste. Marie. Dubois, Hist. de l'Abbaye de Morimond, 258. |