|
1. It has been a subject of wide-spread and frequent discussion what
monk was the first to give a signal example of the hermit life. For
some going back too far have found a beginning in those holy men Elias
and John, of whom the former seems to have been more than a monk and
the latter to have begun to prophesy before his birth. Others, and
their opinion is that commonly received, maintain that Antony was the
originator of this mode of life, which view is partly true. Partly I
say, for the fact is not so much that he preceded the rest as that they
all derived from him the necessary stimulus. But it is asserted even at
the present day by Amathas and Macarius, two of Antony's disciples, the
former of whom laid his master in the grave, that a certain Paul of
Thebes was the leader in the movement, though not the first to bear the
name, and this opinion has my approval also. Some as they think fit
circulate stories such as this--that he was a man living in an
underground cave with flowing hair down to his feet, and invent many
incredible tales which it would be useless to detail. Nor does the
opinion of men who lie without any sense of shame seem worthy of
refutation. So then inasmuch as both Greek and Roman writers have
handed down careful accounts of Antony, I have determined to write a
short history of Paul's early and latter days, more because the thing
has been passed over than from confidence in my own ability. What his
middle life was like, and what snares of Satan he experienced, no man,
it is thought, has yet discovered.
2. During the persecutions of Decius and Valerian, when Cornelius at
Rome and Cyprian at Carthage shed their blood in blessed martyrdom,
many churches in Egypt and the Thebaid were laid waste by the fury of
the storm. At that time the Christians would often pray that they might
be smitten with the sword for the name of Christ. But the desire of the
crafty foe was to slay the soul, not the body; and this he did by
searching diligently for slow but deadly tortures. In the words of
Cyprian himself who suffered at his hands: they who wished to die were
not suffered to be slain. We give two illustrations, both as specially
noteworthy and to make the cruelty of the enemy better known.
3. A martyr, steadfast in faith, who stood fast as a conqueror amidst
the racks and burning plates, was ordered by him to be smeared with
honey and to be made to lie under a blazing sun with his hands tied
behind his back, so that he who had already surmounted the heat of the
frying-pan might be vanquished by the stings of flies. Another who was
in the bloom of youth was taken by his command to some delightful
pleasure gardens, and there amid white lilies and blushing roses, close
by a gently murmuring stream, while overhead the soft whisper of the
wind played among the leaves of the trees, was laid upon a deep
luxurious feather-bed, bound with fetters of sweet garlands to prevent
his escape. When all bad withdrawn from him a harlot of great beauty
drew near and began with voluptuous embrace to throw her arms around
his neck, and, wicked even to relate! to handle his person, so that
when once the lusts of the flesh were roused, she might accomplish her
licentious purpose. What to do, and whither to turn, the soldier of
Christ knew not. Unconquered by tortures he was being overcome by
pleasure. At last with an inspiration from heaven he bit off the end of
his tongue and spat it in her face as she kissed him. Thus the
sensations of lust were subdued by the intense pain which followed.
4. While such enormities were being perpetrated in the lower part of
the Thebaid, Paul and his newly married sister were bereaved of both
their parents, he being about sixteen years of age. He was heir to a
rich inheritance, highly skilled in both Greek and Egyptian learning,
gifted with a gentle disposition and a deep love for God. Amid the
thunders of persecution he retired to a house at a considerable
distance and in a more secluded spot. But to what crimes does not the
"accursed thirst for gold" impel the human heart? His brother-in-law
conceived the thought of betraying the youth whom he was bound to
conceal. Neither a wife's tears which so often prevail, nor the ties of
blood, nor the all-seeing eye of God above him could turn the traitor
from his wickedness. "He came, he was urgent, he acted with cruelty
while seeming only to press the claims of affection."
5. The young man had the tact to understand this, and, conforming his
will to the necessity, fled to the mountain wilds to wait for the end
of the persecution. He began with easy stages, and repeated halts, to
advance into the desert. At length he found a rocky mountain, at the
foot of which, closed by a stone, was a cave of no great size. He
removed the stone (so eager are men to learn what is hidden), made
eager search, and saw within a large hall, open to the sky, but shaded
by the wide-spread branches of an ancient palm. The tree, however, did
not conceal a fountain of transparent clearness, the waters whereof no
sooner gushed forth than the stream was swallowed up in a small opening
of the same ground which gave it birth. There were besides in the
mountain, which was full of cavities, many habitable places, in which
were seen, now rough with rust, anvils and hammers for stamping money.
The place, Egyptian writers relate, was a secret mint at the time of
Antony's union with Cleopatra.
6. Accordingly, regarding his abode as a gift from God, he fell in love
with it, and there in prayer and solitude spent all the rest of his
life. The palm afforded him food and clothing. And, that no one may
deem this impossible, I call to witness Jesus and His holy angels that
I have seen and still see in that part of the desert which lies between
Syria and the Saracens' country, monks of whom one was shut up for
thirty years and lived on barley bread and muddy water, while another
in an old cistern (called in the country dialect of Syria Gubba) kept
himself alive on five dried figs a day. What I relate then is so
strange that it will appear incredible to those who do not believe the
words that "all things are possible to him that believeth."
7. But to return to the point at which I digressed. The blessed Paul
had already lived on earth the life of heaven for a hundred and
thirteen years, and Antony at the age of ninety was dwelling in another
place of solitude (as he himself was wont to declare), when the thought
occurred to the latter, that no monk more perfect than himself had
settled in the desert. However, in the stillness of the night it was
revealed to him that there was farther in the desert a much better man
than he, and that he ought to go and visit him. So then at break of day
the venerable old man, supporting and guiding his weak limbs with a
staff, started to go: but what direction to choose he knew not.
Scorching noontide came, with a broiling sun overhead, but still he did
not suffer himself to be turned from the journey he had begun. Said he,
"I believe in my God: some time or other He will shew me the
fellow-servant whom He promised me." He said no more. All at once he
beholds a creature of mingled shape, half horse half man, called by the
poets Hippocentaur. At the sight of this he arms himself by making on
his forehead the sign of salvation, and then exclaims, "Holloa! Where
in these parts is a servant of God living?" The monster after gnashing
out some kind of outlandish utterance, in words broken rather than
spoken through his bristling lips, at length finds a friendly mode of
communication, and extending his right hand points out the way desired.
Then with swift flight he crosses the spreading plain and vanishes from
the sight of his wondering companion. But whether the devil took this
shape to terrify him, or whether it be that the desert which is known
to abound in monstrous animals engenders that kind of creature also, we
cannot decide.
8. Antony was amazed. and thinking over what he had seen went on his
way. Before long in a small rocky valley shut in on all sides he sees a
mannikin with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like
goats' feet. When he saw this, Antony like a good soldier seized the
shield of faith and the helmet of hope: the creature none the less
began to offer to him the fruit of the palm-trees to support him on his
journey and as it were pledges of peace. Antony perceiving this stopped
and asked who he was. The answer he received from him was this: "I am a
mortal being and one of those inhabitants of the desert whom the
Gentiles deluded by various forms of error worship under the names of
Fauns, Satyrs, and Incubi. I am sent to represent my tribe. We pray you
in our behalf to entreat the favour of your Lord and ours. who, we have
learnt, came once to save the world, and 'whose sound has gone forth
into all the earth.'" As he uttered such words as these, the aged
traveller's cheeks streamed with tears, the marks of his deep feeling,
which he shed in the fulness of his joy. He rejoiced over the Glory of
Christ and the destruction of Satan, and marvelling all the while that
he could understand the Satyr's language, and striking the ground with
his staff, he said, "Woe to thee, Alexandria, who instead of God
worshippest monsters! Woe to thee, harlot city, into which have flowed
together the demons of the whole world! What will you say now? Beasts
speak of Christ, and you instead of God worship monsters." He had not
finished speaking when, as if on wings, the wild creature fled away.
Let no one scruple to believe this incident; its truth is supported by
what took place when Constantine was on the throne, a matter of which
the whole world was witness. For a man of that kind was brought alive
to Alexandria and shewn as a wonderful sight to the people. Afterwards
his lifeless body, to prevent its decay through the summer heat, was
preserved in salt and brought to Antioch that the Emperor might see it.
9. To pursue my proposed story. Antony traversed the region on which he
had entered, seeing only the traces of wild beasts, and the wide waste
of the desert. What to do, whither to wend his way, he knew not.
Another day had now passed. One thing alone was left him, his confident
belief that he could not be forsaken by Christ. The darkness of the
second night he wore away in prayer. While it was still twilight, he
saw not far away a she-wolf gasping with parching thirst and creeping
to the foot of the mountain. He followed it with his eyes; and after
the beast had disappeared in a cave he drew near and began to look
within. His curiosity profiled nothing: the darkness hindered vision.
But, as the Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear. With
halting step and bated breath he entered, carefully feeling his way; he
advanced little by little and repeatedly listened for the sound. At
length through the fearful midnight darkness a light appeared in the
distance. In his eager haste he struck his foot against a stone and
roused the echoes; whereupon the blessed Paul closed the open door and
made it fast with a bar. Then Antony sank to the ground at the entrance
and until the sixth hour or later craved admission, saying, "Who I am,
whence, and why I have come, you know. I know I am not worthy to look
upon you: yet unless I see you I will not go away. You welcome beasts:
why not a man? I asked and I have found: I knock that it may be opened
to me. But if I do not succeed, I will die here on your threshold. You
will surely bury me when I am dead."
"Such was his constant cry: unmoved he stood. To whom the hero thus
brief answer made"
"Prayers like these do not mean threats; there is no trickery in tears.
Are you surprised at my not welcoming you when you have come here to
die?" Thus with smiles Paul gave him access, and, the door being
opened, they threw themselves into each other's arms, greeted. one
another by name, and joined in thanksgiving to God.
10. After the sacred kiss Paul sat down and thus began to address
Antony. "Behold the man whom yon have sought with so much toil, his
limbs decayed with age, his gray hairs unkempt. You see before you a
man who were long will be dust. But love endures all things. Tell me
therefore, I pray you, how fares the human race? Are new homes
springing up in the ancient cities? What government directs the world?
Are there still some remaining for the demons to carry away by their
delusions?" Thus conversing they noticed with wonder a raven which had
settled on the bough of a tree, and was then flying gently down till it
came and laid a whole loaf of bread before them. They were astonished,
and when it had gone, "See," said Paul, "the Lord truly loving, truly
merciful, has sent us a meal. For the last sixty years I have always
received half a loaf: but at your coming Christ has doubled his
soldier's rations."
11. Accordingly, having returned thanks to the Lord, they sat down
together on the brink of the glassy spring. At this point a dispute
arose as to who should break the bread, and nearly the whole day until
eventide was spent in the discussion. Paul urged in support of his view
the rites of hospitality, Antony pleaded age. At length it was arranged
that each should seize the loaf on the side nearest to himself, pull
towards him, and keep for his own the part left in his hands. Then on
hands and knees they drank a little water from the spring, and offering
to God the sacrifice of praise passed the night in vigil. At the return
of day the blessed Paul thus spoke to Antony: "I knew long since,
brother, that you were dwelling in those parts: long ago God promised
you to me for a fellow-servant; but the time of my falling asleep now
draws nigh; I have always longed to be dissolved and to be with Christ;
my course is finished, and there remains for me a crown of
righteousness. Therefore you have been sent by the Lord to lay my poor
body in the ground, yea to return earth to earth."
12. On hearing this Antony with tears and groans began to pray that he
would not desert him, but would take him for a companion on that
journey. His friend replied: "You ought not to seek your own, but
another man's good. It is expedient for you to lay aside the burden of
the flesh and to follow the Lamb; but it is expedient for the rest of
the brethren to be trained by your example. Wherefore be so good as to
go and fetch the cloak Bishop Athanasius gave you, to wrap my poor body
in." The blessed Paul asked this favour not because he cared much
whether his corpse when it decayed were clothed or naked (why should he
indeed, when he had so long worn a garment of palm-leaves stitched
together?); but that he might soften his friend's regrets at his
decease. Antony was astonished to find Paul had heard of Athanasius and
his cloak; and, seeing as it were Christ Himself in him, he mentally
worshipped God without venturing to add a single word; then silently
weeping he once more kissed his eyes and hands, and set out on his
return to the monastery which was afterwards seized by the Saracens.
His steps lagged behind his will. Yet, exhausted as he was with fasting
and broken by age, his courage proved victorious over his years.
13. At last wearied and panting for breath he completed his journey and
reached his little dwelling. Here he was met by two disciples who had
begun to wait upon him in his advanced age. Said they, "Where have you
stayed so long, father?" He replied, "Woe to me a sinner! I do not
deserve the name of monk. I have seen Elias, I have seen John in the
desert, and I have really seen Paul in Paradise." He then closed his
lips, beat upon his breast, and brought out the cloak from his cell.
When his disciples asked him to explain the matter somewhat more fully
he said," There is a time to keep silence, and a time to speak."
14. He then went out, and without taking so much as a morsel of food
returned the same way he came, longing for him alone, thirsting to see
him, having eyes and thought for none but him. For he was afraid, and
the event proved his anticipations correct, that in his absence his
friend might yield up his spirit to Christ. And now another day had
dawned and a three hours' journey still remained, when he saw Paul in
robes of snowy white ascending on high among the bands of angels, and
the choirs of prophets and apostles. Immediately he fell on his face,
and threw the coarse sand upon his head, weeping and wailing as he
cried, "Why do you cast me from you, Paul? Why go without one farewell?
Have you made yourself known so late only to depart so soon?"
15. The blessed Antony used afterwards to relate that he traversed the
rest of the distance at such speed that he flew along like a bird; and
not without reason: for on entering the cave he saw the lifeless body
in a kneeling attitude, with head erect and hands uplifted. The first
thing he did, supposing him to be alive, was to pray by his side. But
when he did not hear the sighs which usually come from one in prayer,
he fell to kisses and tears, and he then understood that even the dead
body of the saint with duteous gestures was praying to God unto whom
all things live.
16. Then having wrapped up the body and carried it forth, all the while
chanting hymns and psalms according to the Christian tradition, Antony
began to lament that he had no implement for digging the ground. So in
a surging sea of thought and pondering many plans he said: "If I return
to the monastery, there is a four days' journey: if I stay here I shall
do no good. I will die then, as is fitting, beside Thy warrior, O
Christ, and will quickly breathe my last breath." While he turned these
things over in his mind, behold, two lions from the recesses of the
desert with manes flying on their necks came rushing along. At first he
was horrified at the sight, but again turning his thoughts to God, he
waited without alarm, as though they were doves that he saw. They came
straight to the corpse of the blessed old man and there stopped, fawned
upon it and lay down at its feet, roaring aloud as if to make it known
that they were mourning in the only way possible to them. Then they
began to paw the ground close by, and vie with one another in
excavating the sand, until they dug out a place just large enough to
hold a man. And immediately, as if demanding a reward for their work,
pricking up their ears while they lowered their heads. they came to
Antony and began to lick his hands and feet. He perceived that they
were begging a blessing from him, and at once with an outburst of
praise to Christ that even dumb animals felt His divinity, he said,
"Lord, without whose command not a leaf drops from the tree, not a
sparrow falls to the ground, grant them what thou knowest to be best."
Then he waved his hand and bade them depart. When they were gone he
bent his aged shoulders beneath the burden of the saint's body, laid it
in the grave, covered it with the excavated soil, and raised over it
the customary mound. Another day dawned, and then, that the
affectionate heir might not be without something belonging to the
intestate dead, he took for himself the tunic which after the manner of
wicker-work the saint had woven out of palm-leaves. And so returning to
the monastery he unfolded everything in order to his disciples, and on
the feast-days of Easter and Pentecost he always wore Paul's tunic.
17. I may be permitted at the end of this little treatise to ask those
who do not know the extent of their possessions, who adorn their homes
with marble, who string house to house and field to field, what did
this old man in his nakedness ever lack? Your drinking vessels are of
precious stones; he satisfied his thirst with the hollow of his hand.
Your tunics are of wrought gold; he had not the raiment of the meanest
of your slaves. But on the other hand, poor though he was, Paradise is
open to him; you with all your gold will be received into Gehenna. He
though naked yet kept the robe of Christ; you, clad in your silks, have
lost the vesture of Christ. Paul lies covered with worthless dust, but
will rise again to glory; over you are raised costly tombs, but both
you and your wealth are doomed to the burning. Have a care, I pray you,
at least have a care for the riches you love. Why are even the
grave-clothes of your dead made of gold? Why does not your vaunting
cease even amid mourning and tears? Cannot the carcases of rich men
decay except in silk?
18. I beseech you, reader, whoever you may be, to remember Jerome the
sinner. He, if God would give him his choice, would much sooner take
Paul's tunic with his merits, than the purple of kings with their
punishment.
|
|