Woman in the golden ages

by Amelia Gere Mason

We cannot follow the wanderings of these fourth-century pilgrims among the hermits of the desert and the holy places of Syria. They were among the first of a long line of women who have given up the luxuries and refinements of life for a hut or a cave in the wilderness, and a bare, hard existence, illuminated only by the “light that never was on sea or land.” Melania established a convent on the Mount of Olives, with Rufinus as the spiritual director, and here it is probable that Paula visited her before settling finally near the Cave of the Nativity at Bethlehem, where she built three convents, a hospital, and a monastery, which was superintended by St. Jerome. It was here that the rich descendant of the Scipios, who had gone from a palace to a cell, gave herself to prayer and menial duties, while she scattered her fortune among the poor.

IV

The most immediate and important outcome of the Church of the Household was this convent at Bethlehem, which had its origin in the brain of Paula and was managed by her until her death. The little community, with its austerities, its studies, its lowly duties, its charities, and its peaceful life, was clearly visible while St. Jerome lived to electrify the world periodically with some fresh outburst of rage at its follies, or its presumption in differing in opinion from himself. It was here that he did his greatest work, and it is of special interest to us that he depended largely upon the intelligent aid of Paula and Eustochium in his revision of the Septuagint and the invaluable translation of the Bible known as the Latin Vulgate. His instructions to them were minute, and his confidence in their ability is shown in the preface to one of his works, where he says: “You, who are so familiar with Hebrew literature and so skilled in judging the merits of a translation, go over this one carefully, word by word, so as to discover where I have added or omitted anything which is not in the original.” They also revised with him and largely settled the text of the Psalter which is in use to-day in the Latin churches. He said that they acquired with ease, and spoke perfectly, the Hebrew language, which had cost him so much labor. He was censured for dedicating so many of his works to the women who had given him such efficient help. His reply is of value, as it expressed the opinion of the most scholarly and brilliant of the early fathers on the intellectual ability of the sex which they seem, as a rule, to have taken the greatest pleasure in denouncing.

“As if these women were not more capable of forming a judgment upon them than most men,” he says. “The good people who would have me prefer them to you, O Paula and Eustochium, know as little of their Bible as of Greek and Roman history. They do not know that Huldah prophesied when men were silent, that Deborah overcame the enemies of Israel when Barak trembled, that Judith and Esther saved the people of God. So much for the Hebrews. As for the Greeks, who does not know that Plato listened to the discourse of Aspasia, that Sappho held the lyre beside Alcæus and Pindar, that Themistia was one of the philosophers of Greece? And, among ourselves, Cornelia the mother of the Gracchi, Portia the daughter of Cato and wife of Brutus, before whom the virtue of the father and the austerity of the husband paled, do we not count them among the glories of Rome?”

Through the correspondence of these women with their friends, we have various glimpses of their life, as well as of the changes that came to the group on the Aventine. The heart of Paula was first saddened by the death of her daughter Paulina, who had married a brother of Marcella, and lived a life of great devotion in the world. Perhaps she found a grain of consolation in the fact that Paulina’s large fortune was left to her husband to be distributed among the poor. We have a glowing account of the great funeral at St. Peter’s, where this sorrowing husband scattered the gifts with his own hand to the starving multitude, after turning his wife’s jewels and fine, gold-embroidered robes into plain garments for the naked and needy. Then he went to his desolate home, took the vows of poverty, and put on a monk’s cowl, though he still held his seat in the Senate, where he doubtless felt that he could render the best service.

This grief was tempered for Paula by the glad tidings that the little son she had left weeping on the shore had married Læta, a Christian, who, with his approval, consecrated their daughter, a second Paula, to the service of religion. It was the wife who wrote to her for direction as to her child’s education; and we have an interesting letter from St. Jerome giving careful instruction on all points that concern the training of a young maiden. This Paula helped to cheer the last days of her grandmother, and became the third abbess of the convent.

Fabiola came once to visit them, and spent two years, entering into all their duties, and brightening the little community with her quick and eager intellect. But she died soon after her return to Rome. They urged Marcella to join them, and sent vivid descriptions of their idyllic life among the hills consecrated by so many sacred memories. “In summer we seek the shade of our trees,” they write; “in autumn the mild weather and pure air invite us to rest on a bed of fallen leaves; in spring, when the fields are painted with flowers, we sing our songs among the birds.” To be sure, they had the hospital work, the menial duties, the prayers, and the penances, but they had, too, long and pleasant hours to study the holy books. Then they were free from the “need of seeing and being seen, of greeting and being greeted, of praising and detracting, hearing and talking, of seeing the crowds of the world.” The monastery and the convent were quite separate, but it is likely that St. Jerome passed many moments in the converse of his friends and helpers, though his instructions were largely given by letter. These pastoral pictures, however, with their dark shadings, did not tempt the Roman lady from her chosen work. With her clear and sane intellect she saw her duty to those among whom she was born.

After seventeen years of unselfish labor for the poor and suffering, varied by the study of which we have the fruit, Paula died and was laid away in the grotto at Bethlehem. In her last moments she replied in Greek to a question of St. Jerome, that she felt no pain, and that everything before her was calm and tranquil. All Palestine flocked to her funeral, which was conducted by the Bishop of Jerusalem, and people of every rank and grade looked with tears on her grave and majestic features. “Illustrious by birth,” says St. Jerome, “more illustrious by her piety, first in Rome by the wealth of her house, then more honored by Christian poverty, she scorned pomp and glory, exchanged gilded walls for a cabin, and won the esteem of the entire world.”

Her mantle fell upon Eustochium, an earnest, sincere woman of serious education but less strength and individuality than her mother, who filled her place with dignity and ability for sixteen years. In the first days of his grief St. Jerome was unable to take up his work, but this sympathetic helper turned his thoughts by carrying to him the Book of Ruth to be translated. At her death she was succeeded by her niece, another Paula, who had been long associated with her. The younger Melania, who had followed in the footsteps of her own grandmother, the first woman to leave Rome for an ascetic retreat in the East, was there also, and it was these women who, not long afterward, closed the eyes of St. Jerome, already dimmed with age.

But the close of Marcella’s life came some time before this last light went out in the Syrian monastery, and it was tragical enough. For thirty years she had devoted herself and her large wealth to the unfortunate, and to the interests of the church she loved. During the siege of Alaric and the terrible days that saw the ruin of Rome, she was beaten and tortured to compel her to tell where she had hidden her treasures; but these had all gone for the relief of the suffering, and there was nothing to tell. A soldier with a kinder heart than the rest helped her to reach the old Church of St. Paul without the walls, together with Principia, the only companion left to her, whom she had saved with great difficulty from the fury of her brutal captors. A few days later she died of these tortures, and the maiden was left alone to tell the tale. The Ecclesia Domestica appears no more in history. The little group of devoted women was already scattered. Many were dead. Some had found refuge in the convent at Bethlehem, some in the cells of the Thebaid, and some had gone to carry the seeds of their faith to remote places where we cannot trace them. Strictly speaking, this was never a convent, as there were no vows and women went in and out at pleasure. But it has been called the “Mother of Convents.”