ain, in the neighborhood of
Limoges, haunted by wild beasts, and of an exceeding cold situation.
Here he took up his abode, and, by a vow, consecrated himself to the
divine service, in these words: "I, Stephen, renounce the devil and his
pomps, and do offer and dedicate myself to the Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost, one God in three Persons." This engagement he wrote and kept
always by him with a ring as the symbol. He built himself a hut with the
boughs of trees, and in this place passed forty-six years in prayer, and
the practice of such austerities as almost surpassed the strength of a
human body.[1] He lived at first on wild herbs and roots. In the second
summer he was discovered by certain shepherds, who brought him a little
coarse bread; which some country people from that time continued to do
as long as he lived. He always wore next his skin a hair-cloth with iron
plates and hoops studded with sharp spikes, over which his only garment,
made of the coarsest stuff, was the same both in summer and winter. When
overcome by sleep, he took a short rest on rough boards, laid in the
form of a coffin. When he was not employed in manual labor, he lay
prostrate on the ground in profound adoration of the majesty of God. The
sweetness which he felt in divine contemplation made him often forget to
take any refreshment for two or three days together. When sixty years of
{383} age, finding his stomach exceeding weak, he suffered a few drops
of wine to be mixed with the water which he drank.
Many were desirous to live with him and become his disciples. Though
most rigorous to himself, he was mild to those under his direction, and
proportioned their mortifications to their strength. But he allowed no
indulgence with regard to the essential points of a solitary life,
silence, poverty, and the denial of self-will. He often exhorted his
disciples to a total disengagement of their hearts from all earthly
things, and to a love of holy poverty for that purpose. He used to say
to those who desired to be admitted into his community: "This is a
prison without either door or hole whereby to return into the world,
unless a person makes for himself a breach. And should this misfortune
befall you, I could not send after you, none here having any commerce
with the world any more than myself." He behaved himself among his
disciples as the last of them, always taking the lowest place, never
suffering any one to rise up to him; and while they were at
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