.—Chrysostom in Exile. His Death. . 404–407.
Chrysostom was conveyed under the scorching heat of
July and August over Galatia and Cappadocia, to the lonely mountain
village Cucusus, on the borders of Cilicia and Armenia, which the
wrath of Eudoxia had selected for his exile. The climate was
inclement and variable, the winter severe, the place was exposed to
Isaurian brigands. He suffered much from fever and headache, and
was more than once brought to the brink of the grave. Nevertheless
the bracing mountain air invigorated his feeble constitution, and
he was hopeful of returning to his diocese. He was kindly treated
by the bishop of Cucusus. He received visits, letters and presents
from faithful friends, and by his correspondence exerted a wider
influence from that solitude than from the episcopal throne.
His 242 extant letters are nearly all from the
three years of his exile, and breathe a noble Christian spirit, in
a clear, brilliant and persuasive style. They exhibit his faithful
care for all the interests of the church and look calmly and
hopefully to the glories of heaven. They are addressed to Eastern
and Western bishops, presbyters, deacons, deaconesses, monks and
missionaries; they describe the fatigues of his journey, give
advice on a variety of subjects, strengthen and comfort his distant
flock, urge the destruction of heathen temples in Phœnicia, the
extirpation of heresy in Cyprus, and encourage the missions in
Persia and Scythia. Two letters
are addressed to the Roman bishop Innocent I., whose sympathy and
assistance he courted. Seventeen letters—the most important of
all—are addressed to Olympias, the deaconess, a widow of noble
birth, personal beauty and high accomplishments, who devoted her
fortune and time to the poor and the sick. She died between 408 and
420. To her he revealed his inner life, upon her virtues he
lavished extravagant praise, which offends modern taste as fulsome
flattery. For her consolation he wrote a special treatise on the
theme that “No one is really injured except by himself.”
The cruel empress, stung by disappointment at the
continued power of the banished bishop, forbade all correspondence
and ordered his transfer by two brutal guards, first to Arabissus, then to Pityus on the Caucasus, the most inhospitable spots in the empire.
The journey of three months on foot was a slow
martyrdom to the feeble and sickly old man. He did not reach his
destination, but ended his pilgrimage five or six miles from Comana
in Pontus in the chapel of the martyr Basiliscus on the 14th of
September, 407, in his sixtieth year, the tenth of his episcopate. Clothed in his white baptismal robes, he partook of the eucharist and commended his soul to God. His last words were his accustomed doxology, the motto of his life: “Glory be to God for all things, Amen.”
He was buried by the side of Basiliscus in the
presence of monks and nuns.
He was revered as a saint by the people. Thirty-one
years afterwards, January 27, 438, his body was translated with
great pomp to Constantinople and deposited with the emperors and
patriarchs beneath the altar of the church of the Holy Apostles. The young Emperor Theodosius II. and his sister Pulcheria met the procession at Chalcedon, kneeled down before the coffin, and in the name of their guilty parents implored the forgiveness of heaven for the grievous injustice done to the greatest and saintliest man that ever graced the pulpit and episcopal chair of Constantinople. The Eastern church of that age shrunk from the bold speculations of Origen, but revered the narrow orthodoxy of Epiphanius and the ascetic piety of Chrysostom.
The personal appearance of the golden-mouthed
orator was not imposing, but dignified and winning. He was of small
stature (like David, Paul, Athanasius, Melanchthon, John Wesley, Schleiermacher). He had an emaciated frame, a large, bald head, a lofty, wrinkled forehead, deep-set, bright, piercing eyes, pallid, hollow cheeks, and a short, gray beard.