of the Council of the Oaks. He was now more
popular and powerful than before. But not more prudent. For a silver
statue of the empress having been erected so near to the cathedral that
the games instituted to its honor disturbed the services of the church,
the bishop in great indignation ascended the pulpit, and declaimed
against female vices. The empress at this was furious, and threatened
another council. Chrysostom, still undaunted, then delivered that
celebrated sermon, commencing thus: "Again Herodias raves; again she
dances; again she demands the head of John in a basin." This defiance,
which was regarded as an insult, closed the career of Chrysostom in the
capital of the Empire. Both the emperor and empress determined to
silence him. A new council was convened, and the Patriarch was accused
of violating the canons of the Church. It seems he ventured to preach
before he was formally restored, and for this technical offence he was
again deposed. No second earthquake or popular sedition saved him. He
had sailed too long against the stream. What genius and what fame can
protect a man who mocks or defies the powers that be, whether kings or
people? If Socrates could not be endured at Athens, if Cicero was
banished from Rome, how could this unarmed priest expect immunity from
the possessors of absolute power whom he had offended? It is the fate of
prophets to be stoned. The bold expounders of unpalatable truth ever
have been martyrs, in some form or other.

But Chrysostom met his fate with fortitude, and the only favor which he
asked was to reside in Cyzicus, near Nicomedia. This was refused, and
the place of his exile was fixed at Cucusus,--a remote and desolate city
amid the ridges of Mount Taurus; a distance of seventy days' journey,
which he was compelled to make in the heat of summer.

But he lived to reach this dreary resting-place, and immediately devoted
himself to the charms of literary composition and letters to his
friends. No murmurs escaped him. He did not languish, as Cicero did in
his exile, or even like Thiers in Switzerland. Banishment was not
dreaded by a man who disdained the luxuries of a great capital, and who
was not ambitious of power and rank. Retirement he had sought, even in
his youth, and it was no martyrdom to him so long as he could study,
meditate, and write.

So Chrysostom was serene, even cheerful, amid the blasts of a cold and
cheerless climate. It was there he wrote those noble and i