hood, and shone as a bright sun influencing this holy
company, while St. Macarius the elder lived no less eminent in the
wilderness of Scete, forty miles distant. Palladius has recorded[2] a
memorable instance of the great self-denial professed and observed by
these holy hermits. A present was made of a newly-gathered bunch of
grapes to St. Macarius: the holy man carried it to a neighboring monk
who was sick; he sent it to another: it passed in like manner to all the
cells in the desert, and was brought back to Macarius, who was
exceedingly rejoiced to perceive the abstinence of his brethren, but
would not eat of the grapes himself.

The austerities of all the inhabitants of that desert were
extraordinary; but St. Macarius, in this regard, far surpasses the rest.
For seven years {074} together he lived only on raw herbs and pulse, and
for the three following years contented himself with four or five ounces
of bread a day, and consumed only one little vessel of oil in a year; as
Palladius assures us. His watchings were not less surprising, as the
same author informs us. God had given him a body capable of bearing the
greatest rigors; and his fervor was so intense, that whatever spiritual
exercise be heard of, or saw practised by others, be resolved to copy
the same. The reputation of the monastery of Tabenna, under St.
Pachomius, drew him to this place in disguise, some time before the year
349. St. Pachomius told him that he seemed too far advanced in years to
begin to accustom himself to their fastings and watchings; but at length
admitted him, on condition he would observe all the rules and
mortifications of the house. Lent approaching soon after, the monks were
assiduous in preparations to pass that holy time in austerities, each
according to his strength and fervor; some by fasting one, others two,
three, or four days, without any kind of nourishment; some standing all
day, others only sitting at their work. Macarius took some palm-tree
leaves steeped in water, as materials for his work, and standing in a
private corner, passed the whole time without eating, except a few green
cabbage leaves on Sundays. His hands were employed in almost continual
labor, and his heart conversed with God by prayer. If he left his
station on any pressing occasion, he never stayed one moment longer than
necessity required. Such a prodigy astonished the monks, who even
remonstrated to the abbot at Easter against a singularity of this
nat