doubt; it appears in a vast commentary on the Psalms, and more clearly in the book he wrote for the guidance and edification of his brother monks—­brothers (carissimi fratres), for in his humility he declined to become the Abbot of Vivariense; enough that his worldly dignity, his spiritual and mental graces, assured to him the influence he desired.  The notable characteristic of his rule was a sanctifying of intellectual labour.  In abandoning the world, he by no means renounced his interest in its civilization.  Statesmanship having failed to stem the tide of Oriental tyranny and northern barbarism, he set himself to save as much as possible of the nobler part, to secure for happier ages the record of human attainment.  Great was the importance he attached to the work of his Antiquarii—­copyists who laboured to preserve the manuscript literature which was in danger of utterly perishing.  With special reference to their work upon the Scriptures, he tells them that they “fight against the wiles of Satan with pen and ink.”  And again:  “Writing with three fingers, they thus symbolize the virtues of the Holy Trinity; using a reed, they thus attack the craft of the Devil with that very instrument which smote the Lord’s head in his Passion.”  But all literature was his care.  That the copyists might write correctly, he digested the works of half a dozen grammarians into a treatise on orthography.  Further, that the books of the monastery might wear “a wedding garment” (his own phrase), he designed a great variety of bindings, which were kept as patterns.

There, at the foot of Moscius, did these brethren and their founder live and work.  But on the top of the mountain was another retreat, known as Castellense, for those monks who—­divina gratia suffragante—­desired a severer discipline, and left the coenobitic house to become anchorites.  Did these virtuous brothers continue their literary labours?  One hopes so, and one is glad that Cassiodorus himself seems to have ended his life down in the valley by the Pellena.

A third class of monks finds mention, those in whom “Frigidus obstiterit circum praecordia sanguis,” quotes the founder.  In other words, the hopelessly stupid.  For these there was labour in the garden, and to console them Cassiodorus recites from a Psalm:  “Thou shalt eat the labour of thy hands; happy shalt thou be, and it shall be well with thee.”  A smile is on the countenance of the humane brother.  He did his utmost, indeed, for the comfort, as well as the spiritual welfare, of his community.  Baths were built “for the sick” (heathendom had been cleaner, but we must not repine); for the suffering, too, and for pilgrims, exceptional food was provided—­ young pigeons, delicate fish, fruit, honey; a new kind of lamp was invented, to burn for long hours without attention; dials and clepsydras marked the progress of day and night.