ST. CHRYSOSTOM,

HIS ELOQUENCE, PIETY, ETC.

HOMILY ON THE DISGRACE OF EUTROPIUS,

Pronounced in the Church of St. Sophia, A. D. 399.[Ben. Ed. iii. 381.]

[THE reign of the emperor Arcadius was disgraced by many weaknesses and inconsistencies; not among the least of which was his conduct to the eunuch Eutropius. Born in an obscure condition, this person had succeeded in ingratiating himself into the imperial favour. Honors were showered upon him, riches followed, and the establishment of this minion of fortune surpassed that of his imperial master in luxury and magnificence. Insolence, ambition, and haughtiness, are innate in the character of such adventurers. To such a height was his presumption carried, that, at last, nothing less would content him than the Consulship, and the singularly misplaced title of Father of the Empe

ror.' He had exerted his interest in opening the way for the election of St. Chrysostom to the See of Constantinople, but had afterwards taken part against him. The Saint's intrepidity of character, and the apostolic zeal with which he laboured for the correction of abuses, as well public as private, could not but bring him in collision with the favorite, whose animosity was not confined to the archbishop alone, but extended to the whole church, whose immunities he attacked. The law passed in 398, against the privilege of asylum in churches, was his work. He deprived the Church of an immunity inherent in the character of that religion, which, like its divine founder, is the refuge of the oppressed. In 399, the favorite had reached the zenith of his greatness, and exercised his power with the most excessive tyranny. At length the day of retribution came. The abuse which he made of the emperor's favour, and the scandal which his conduct excited, inflamed the people and the army against him. Gainas, the popular general, presented himself boldly before Arcadius, and demanded the disgrace of his favourite. This demand was enforced by the eloquence of the emperor's wife, Eudoxia, who, with tears in her eyes, presented her infant children to their father, imploring his justice for some insult received from his presumptuous minister. Thus urged, the weak Arcadius did not hesitate to sign his favorite's condemnation. The magic spell was instantly dissolved; and the acclamations that so lately hailed the merit and the fortune of the favorite, were converted into clamours, reproaching his crimes, and pressing his immediate execution. In the hour of distress and despair, his only refuge was that same church, which

he had persecuted, and the asylum of whose altars he had been active in abolishing. St. Chrysostom received him, with the charity of a Christian, and the tenderness of a parent. On the following day, when the news of his disgrace and the place of his refuge had been published through the city, crowds of people, mingled with the infuriated soldiery, rushed to the Cathedral of St. Sophia, that they might exult over the distress of their once dreaded tyrant, and drag him forth to punishment. The moment was critical. St. Chrysostom, insensible to danger when the voice of charity demanded his presence, made his way through the infuriated crowd to the spot where lay the victim of the public indignation, pale and trembling, and clinging to the altar for protection. There was no leisure for premeditation. The orator ascended the pulpit, and in a burst of extemporaneous eloquence, addressed his excited auditors to this effect.]

If ever there was a season in our lives in which we might exclaim; Vanity of vanities and all is vanity! is it not in the moment before us? Where is now the pomp, where the costly insignia of the Consulship? Where the blaze of torches that preceded the triumphal march? Where the enthusiasm of applause, the crowded hall, the sumptuous banquet, and the midnight revelry? Where is the tumult that re-echoed through the city, where are the noisy acclamations, the fulsome homage of flattery so lavishly poured forth by the thousands that thronged the theatre ?-all have vanished. A tempestuous gale has stripped the proud tree of its foli

age; it has exposed to our eyes the naked trunk, it has shaken it to its very roots, and threatens to scatter it in fragments to the winds of heaven. What has become of those summer-friends, of the sumptuous banquet, and the swarm of parasites, of the goblets of exhaustless wine, of the arts that administered to luxury, of the worshippers of the imperial purple, of those cringing slaves of interest, whose words were as servile as their deeds?-They were the vision of a night, the illusion of a morning dream, that has melted before the beams of day; they were spring-flowers that withered with the fleeting Spring; they were a shadow, and it passed away, a brilliant vapour, that shone for a moment, and has vanished into air. O! how true then is that saying, and how incessantly should we repeat those words of the Holy Spirit,-Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity! These words should be inscribed in letters of light upon the walls of our houses, over the doors of our apartments, in the places of public resort; nay, on our very garments should they be written: but far more should they be engraven upon each man's conscience, and be made the theme of salutary meditation. By continually repeating these warning words, we should learn what value to set upon the illusions of fortune, and the friendships of

men.

Did I not a thousand times repeat to you, that riches are a fugitive slave? But such language was importunate; you refused to listen to my warning voice. You have now learned by bitter experience, that, like ungrateful servants, they have deserted you in the hour of your need; nay more, that they have become instruments of destruction, and the active causes of the storm that has thus burst over your

head. How often did I say, that those who lavished their flattery upon thee were no real friends of thine; and that the warnings I gave thee were more profitable than their servile adulation; that faithful are the wounds of a friend, but deceitful the kisses of an enemy;-salutary wounds, hadst thou borne them in a proper spirit, and which would have protected thee from the perfidious caresses that have hastened thy ruin. All this I told thee, but my remonstrances were wounding to thy self-love. And yet, had I not just reason to address thee thus ? Call in the hour of thy need upon the joyous guests who encircled thy table; upon the lictors who commanded the people to make place for thee when thou didst appear in public; upon the sycophants who in the public places obtruded upon all, their encomiums on thee: and where are they? They have taken the alarm; they are fled afar, fearful of being recognized as thy former friends, wholly intent upon their own interest and security, at the expense of thine. Far different has been our conduct. In the meridian of thy fortune, we bore in patience the insolence of prosperity; in thy fall, we spread over thee the mantle of our protection, and tender thee our services. The same Church, against whom thou hast warred, opens her bosom to receive thee; while the theatres, those idols of thy soul, which have so often drawn down thy vengeance upon us, have betrayed, have abandoned thee. And yet, even then, how often did we address these words to thee; "Whence this rage against the Church? What has she done to thee? In persecuting her, thou art running upon thy own destruction." But vain were our remonstrances; our voice could not reach thy heart Look at the contrast: the very men whom thy