“Women, in judgment weak, in feeling strong,
     By every gust of passion borne along.

* * * * *

     A woman stops at nothing, when she wears
     Rich emeralds round her neck, and in her ears
     Pearls of enormous size; these justify
     Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye.”

Therefore did the women hear with tremulous eagerness the story of the saintly inhabitants of the desert, and flinging away their trinkets, they hastened to the solitude of the cell, there to mourn their folly and seek pardon and peace at the feet of the Most High.

Likewise, the men, born to nobler tasks than fawning upon princes and squandering life and fortune in gluttony and debauchery, blushed for shame, and abandoned forever the company of sensualists and parasites.  Potitianus, a young officer of rank, read the life of Anthony, and cried to his fellow-soldier:  “Tell me, I pray thee, whither all our labors tend?  What do we seek?  For whom do we carry arms?  What can be our greatest hope in the palace but to be friend to the Emperor?  And how frail is that fortune!  What perils!  When shall this be?” Inspired by the monastic story he exchanged the friendship of the Emperor for the friendship of God, and the military life lost all its attractiveness.

A philosopher and teacher hears the same narrative, and his countenance becomes grave; he seizes the arm of Alypius, his friend, and earnestly asks:  “What, then, are we doing?  How is this?  What hast thou been hearing?  These ignorant men rise; they take Heaven by force, and we, with our heartless sciences, behold us wallowing in the flesh and in our blood!  Is it shameful to follow them, and are we not rather disgraced by not following them?” So, disgusted with his self-seeking career, his round of empty pleasures, he, too, is moved by this higher call to abandon his wickedness and devote his genius to the cause of righteousness.

Ambrose, Paulinus, Chrysostom, Basil, Gregory, and many others, holding important official posts or candidates for the highest honors, abandoned all their chances of political preferment in order to preach the gospel of ascetic Christianity.

Yes, for good or evil, Rome is profoundly stirred.  The pale monk, in all his filth and poverty, is the master of the best hearts in the capital.  Every one in whom aspiration is still alive, who longs for some new light, and all who vaguely grope after a higher life, hear his voice and become pliant to his will.

“Great historic movements,” says Grimke, “are born not in whirlwinds, in earthquakes, and pomps of human splendor and power, but in the agonies and enthusiasms of grand, heroic spirits.”  Monastic history, like secular, centers in the biographies of such great men as Anthony, Basil, Jerome, Benedict, Francis, Dominic and Loyola.  To understand the character of the powerful forces set in motion by the coming of the monks to Rome, it is necessary to know the leading spirits whose preeminent abilities and lofty personalities made Western monasticism what it was.