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 Many Jerome 
    translations and studies with links to Amazon 
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    STUDIES 
    (Click on images below.) 
    
      
     The Monk and the Book: 
    Jerome and the Making of Christian Scholarship 
    Megan Hale Williams -------- 
      
     Jerome:  
    His Life, Writings, and Controversies 
    J. N. D. Kelly -------- 
      
     Saint Jerome in the Renaissance 
    Eugene F. Rice -------- 
      
     Jerome (The Early Church Fathers) 
    Stefan Rebenich --------   
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 LETTER XXII. 
30  
 
Many years ago, when for the kingdom of heaven’s sake I had cut myself off from 
home, parents, sister, relations, and—harder still—from the dainty food to which 
I had been accustomed; and when I was on my way to Jerusalem to wage my warfare, 
I still could not bring myself to forego the library which I had formed for 
myself at Rome with great care and toil. And so, miserable man that I was, I 
would fast only that I might afterwards read Cicero. After many nights spent in 
vigil, after floods of tears called from my inmost heart, after the recollection 
of my past sins, I would once more take up Plautus. And when at times I returned to my right 
    mind, and began to read the prophets, their style seemed rude and repellent. 
    I failed to see the light with my blinded eyes; but I attributed the fault 
    not to them, but to the sun. While the old serpent was thus making me his 
    plaything, about the middle of Lent a deep-seated fever fell upon my 
    weakened body, and while it destroyed my rest completely—the story seems 
    hardly credible—it so wasted my unhappy frame that scarcely anything was 
    left of me but skin and bone. Meantime preparations for my funeral went on; 
    my body grew gradually colder, and the warmth of life lingered only in my 
    throbbing breast. Suddenly I was caught up in the spirit and dragged before 
    the judgment seat of the Judge; and here the light was so bright, and those 
    who stood around were so radiant, that I cast myself upon the ground and did 
    not dare to look up. Asked who and what I was I replied: “I am a Christian.” 
    But He who presided said: “Thou liest, thou art a follower of Cicero and not 
    of Christ. For ‘where thy treasure is, there will thy heart be also.’” 
    Instantly I became dumb, and amid the strokes of the lash—for He had ordered 
    me to be scourged—I was tortured more severely still by the fire of 
    conscience, considering with myself that verse, “In the grave who shall give 
    thee thanks?” Yet for all that I began to cry and to bewail myself, 
    saying: “Have mercy upon me, O Lord: have mercy upon me.” Amid the sound of 
    the scourges this cry still made itself heard. At last the bystanders, 
    falling down before the knees of Him who presided, prayed that He would have 
    pity on my youth, and that He would give me space to repent of my error. He 
    might still, they urged, inflict torture on me, should I ever again read the 
    works of the Gentiles. Under the stress of that awful moment I should have 
    been ready to make even still larger promises than these. Accordingly I made 
    oath and called upon His name, saying: “Lord, if ever again I possess 
    worldly books, or if ever again I read such, I have denied Thee.” Dismissed, 
    then, on taking this oath, I returned to the upper world, and, to the 
    surprise of all, I opened upon them eyes so drenched with tears that my 
    distress served to convince even the incredulous. And that this was no sleep 
    nor idle dream, such as those by which we are often mocked, I call to 
    witness the tribunal before which I lay, and the terrible judgment which I 
    feared. May it never, hereafter, be my lot to fall under such an 
    inquisition! I profess that my shoulders were black and blue, that I felt 
    the bruises long after I awoke from my sleep, and that thenceforth I read 
    the books of God with a zeal greater than I had previously given to the 
    books of men. 
 
 
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