Ducis, while
reading of these hermits, wrote to a friend as follows: "I am now
reading the lives of the Fathers of the Desert. I am dwelling with St.
Pachomius, the founder of the monastery at Tabenna. Truly there is a
charm in transporting one's self to that land of the angels--one could
not wish ever to come out of it." Whether the reader will call these
strange characters angels, and will wish he could have shared their beds
of stone and midnight vigils, I will not venture to say, but at all
events his visit will be made as pleasant as possible.
In writing the life of Mahomet, Carlyle said, "As there is no danger of
our becoming, any of us, Mahometans, I mean to say all the good of
Mahomet I justly can." So, without distorting the picture that has come
down to us, I mean to say all the good of these Egyptian hermits that
the facts will justify.
_The Hermits of Egypt_
Egypt was the mother of Christian monasticism, as she has been of many
other wonders.
Vast solitudes; lonely mountains, honey-combed with dens and caves; arid
valleys and barren hills; dreary deserts that glistened under the
blinding glare of the sun that poured its heat upon them steadily all
the year; strange, grotesque rocks and peaks that assumed all sorts of
fantastic shapes to the overwrought fancy; in many places no water, no
verdure, and scarcely a thing in motion; the crocodile and the bird
lazily seeking their necessary food and stirring only as compelled;
unbounded expanse in the wide star-lit heavens; unbroken quiet on the
lonely mountains--a fit home for the hermit, a paradise to the lover of
solitude and peace.
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