Many a monastery with its
surrounding buildings became the nucleus of a modern city. The more
awful the darkness of the forest solitudes, the more the monks loved
it. They cut down trees in the heart of the wilderness, and transformed
a soil bristling with woods and thickets into rich pastures and ploughed
fields. They stimulated the peasantry to labor, and taught them many
useful lessons in agriculture. Thus, they became an industrial, as well
as a spiritual, agency for good.
The habits of the monks brought them into close contact with nature.
Even the animals became their friends. Numerous stories have been
related of their wonderful power over wild beasts and their
conversations with the birds. "It is wonderful," says Bede, "that he who
faithfully and loyally obeys the Creator of the universe, should, in his
turn, see all the creatures obedient to his orders and his wishes." They
lived, so we are told, in the most intimate relations with the animal
creation. Squirrels leaped to their hands or hid in the folds of their
cowls. Stags came out of the forests in Ireland and offered themselves
to some monks who were ploughing, to replace the oxen carried off by the
hunters. Wild animals stopped in their pursuit of game at the command of
St. Laumer. Birds ceased singing at the request of some monks until
they had chanted their evening prayer, and at their word the feathered
songsters resumed their music. A swan was the daily companion of St.
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