Leaving Egypt, again we cross the Mediterranean into Asia Minor.  Near the Black Sea, in a wild forest abounding in savage rocks and gloomy ravines, there dwelt a young man of twenty-six.  He had traveled in Egypt, Syria and Palestine.  He had visited the hermits of the desert and studied philosophy and eloquence in cultured Athens.  In virtue eminent, in learning profound, this poetic soul sought to realize its ideal in a lonely and cherished retreat—­in a solitude of Pontus.

The young monk is the illustrious saint and genius,—­Basil the Great,—­the Bishop of Caesarea, and the virtual founder of the monastic institution in the Greek church.  The forest and glens around his hut belonged to him, and on the other bank of the river Iris his mother and sister were leading similar lives, having abandoned earthly honors in pursuit of heaven.  Hard crusts of bread appeased his hunger.  No fires, except those which burned within his soul, protected him from the wintry blast.  His years were few but well spent.  After a while his powerful intellect asserted itself and he was led into a clearer view of the true spiritual life.  His practical mind revolted against the gross ignorance and meaningless asceticism of Egypt.  He determined to form an order that would conform to the inner meaning of the Bible and to a more sensible conception of the religious life.  For his time he was a wise legislator, a cunning workman and a daring thinker.  The modification of his ascetic ideal was attended by painful struggles.  Many an hour he spent with his bosom friend, Gregory of Nazianza, discussing the subject.  The middle course which they finally adopted is thus neatly described by Gregory: 

     “Long was the inward strife, till ended thus: 
     I saw, when men lived in the fretful world,
     They vantaged other men, but missed the while
     The calmness, and the pureness of their hearts. 
     They who retired held an uprighter post,
     And raised their eyes with quiet strength toward heaven;
     Yet served self only, unfraternally. 
     And so, ’twixt these and those, I struck my path,
     To meditate with the free solitary,
     Yet to live secular, and serve mankind.”

Monks in large numbers flocked to this mountain retreat of Basil’s.  These he banded together in an organization, the remains of which still live in the Greek church.  So great is the influence of his life and teachings, “that it is common though erroneous to call all Oriental monks Basilians.”  His rules are drawn up in the form of answers to two hundred and three questions.  He added to the three monastic vows a fourth, which many authorities claim now appeared for the first time,—­namely, that of irrevocable vows—­once a monk, always a monk.