Books: The Hermits

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But the devil, who hates and envies what is noble, would not endure
such a purpose in a youth: but attempted against him all that he is
wont to do; suggesting to him the remembrance of his wealth, care
for his sister, relation to his kindred, love of money, love of
glory, the various pleasures of luxury, and the other solaces of
life; and then the harshness of virtue, and its great toil; and the
weakness of his body, and the length of time; and altogether raised
a great dust-cloud of arguments in his mind, trying to turn him back
from his righteous choice. But when the enemy saw himself to be too
weak for Antony's determination, but rather baffled by his
stoutness, and overthrown by his great faith, and falling before his
continual prayers, then he attacked him with the temptations which
he is wont to use against young men; . . . . but he protected his
body with faith, prayers, and fastings, . . . setting his thoughts
on Christ, and on his own nobility through Christ, and on the
rational faculties of his soul, . . . and again on the terrors of
the fire, and the torment of the worm, . . . and thus escaped
unhurt. And thus was the enemy brought to shame. For he who
thought himself to be equal with God was now mocked by a youth; and
he who boasted against flesh and blood was defeated by a man clothed
in flesh. For the Lord worked with him, who bore flesh on our
account, and gave to the body victory over the devil, that each man
in his battle may say, "Not I, but the grace of God which is with
me." At last, when the dragon could not overthrow Antony even thus,
but saw himself thrust out of his heart, then gnashing his teeth (as
is written), and as if beside himself, he appeared to the sight, as
he is to the reason, as a black child, and as it were falling down
before him, no longer attempted to argue (for the deceiver was cast
out), but using a human voice, said, "I have deceived many; I have
cast down many. But now, as in the case of many, so in thine, I
have been worsted in the battle." Then when Antony asked him, "Who
art thou who speakest thus to me?" he forthwith replied in a
pitiable voice, "I am the spirit of impurity.". . .

Then Antony gave thanks to God, and gaining courage, said, "Thou art
utterly despicable; for thou art black of soul, and weak as a child;
nor shall I henceforth cast one thought on thee. For the Lord is my
helper, and I shall despise my enemies." That black being, hearing
this, fled forthwith, cowering at his words, and afraid thenceforth
of coming near the man.

This was Antony's first struggle against the devil: or rather this
mighty deed in him was the Saviour's, who condemned sin in the flesh
that the righteousness of the Lord should be fulfilled in us, who
walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. But neither did
Antony, because the daemon had fallen, grow careless and despise
him; neither did the enemy, when worsted by him, cease from lying in
ambush against him. For he came round again as a lion, seeking a
pretence against him. But Antony had learnt from Scripture that
many are the devices of the enemy; and continually kept up his
training, considering that, though he had not deceived his heart by
pleasure, he would try some other snares. For the daemon delights
in sin. Therefore he chastised his body more and more, and brought
it into slavery, lest, having conquered in one case, he should be
tripped up in others. He determined, therefore, to accustom himself
to a still more severe life; and many wondered at him: but the
labour was to him easy to bear. For the readiness of the spirit,
through long usage, had created a good habit in him, so that, taking
a very slight hint from others, he showed great earnestness in it.
For he watched so much, that he often passed the whole night without
sleep; and that not once, but often, to the astonishment of men. He
ate once a day, after the setting of the sun, and sometimes only
once in two days, often even in four; his food was bread with salt,
his drink nothing but water. To speak of flesh and wine there is no
need, for such a thing is not found among other earnest men. When
he slept he was content with a rush-mat: but mostly he lay on the
bare ground. He would not anoint himself with oil, saying that it
was more fit for young men to be earnest in training, than to seek
things which softened the body; and that they must accustom
themselves to labour, according to the Apostle's saying, "When I am
weak, then I am strong;" for that the mind was strengthened as
bodily pleasure was weakened. And this argument of his was truly
wonderful. For he did not measure the path of virtue, nor his going
away into retirement on account of it, by time; but by his own
desire and will. So forgetting the past, he daily, as if beginning
afresh, took more pains to improve, saying over to himself
continually the Apostle's words, "Forgetting what is behind,
stretching forward to what is before;" and mindful, too, of Elias'
speech, "The Lord liveth, before whom I stand this day." For he
held, that by mentioning to-day, he took no account of past time:
but, as if he were laying down a beginning, he tried earnestly to
make himself day by day fit to appear before God, pure in heart, and
ready to obey his will, and no other. And he said in himself that
the ascetic ought for ever to be learning his own life from the
manners of the great Elias, as from a mirror. Antony, having thus,
as it were, bound himself, went to the tombs, which happened to be
some way from the village; and having bidden one of his
acquaintances to bring him bread at intervals of many days, he
entered one of the tombs, and, shutting the door upon himself,
remained there alone. But the enemy, not enduring that, but rather
terrified lest in a little while he should fill the desert with his
training, coming one night with a multitude of daemons, beat him so
much with stripes, that he lay speechless from the torture. For he
asserted that the pain was so great that no blows given by men could
cause such agony. But by the providence of God (for the Lord does
not overlook those who hope in him), the next day his acquaintance
came, bringing him the loaves. And having opened the door, and
seeing him lying on the ground for dead, he carried him to the
Lord's house in the village, and laid him on the ground; and many of
his kinsfolk and the villagers sat round him, as round a corpse.
But about midnight, Antony coming to himself, and waking up, saw
them all sleeping, and only his acquaintance awake, and, nodding to
him to approach, begged him to carry him back to the tombs, without
waking any one. When that was done, the doors were shut, and he
remained as before, alone inside. And, because he could not stand
on account of the daemons' blows, he prayed prostrate. And after
his prayer, he said with a shout, "Here am I, Antony: I do not fly
from your stripes; yea, if you do yet more, nothing shall separate
me from the love of Christ." And then he sang, "If an host be laid
against me, yet shall not my heart be afraid." Thus thought and
spoke the man who was training himself. But the enemy, hater of
what is noble, and envious, wondering that he dared to return after
the stripes, called together his dogs, and bursting with rage,--"Ye
see," he said, "that we have not stopped this man by the spirit of
impurity; nor by blows: but he is even growing bolder against us.
Let us attack him some other way." {41} For it is easy for the
devil to invent schemes of mischief. So then in the night they made
such a crash, that the whole place seemed shaken, and the daemons,
as if breaking in the four walls of the room, seemed to enter
through them, changing themselves into the shapes of beasts and
creeping things; {42} and the place was forthwith filled with shapes
of lions, bears, leopards, bulls, and snakes, asps, scorpions, and
wolves, and each of them moved according to his own fashion. The
lion roared, longing to attack; the bull seemed to toss; the serpent
did not cease creeping, and the wolf rushed upon him; and altogether
the noises of all the apparitions were dreadful, and their tempers
cruel. But Antony, scourged and pierced by them, felt a more
dreadful bodily pain than before: but he lay unshaken and awake in
spirit. He groaned at the pain of his body: but clear in
intellect, and as it were mocking, he said, "If there were any power
in you, it were enough that one of you should come on; but since the
Lord has made you weak, therefore you try to frighten me by mere
numbers. And a proof of your weakness is, that you imitate the
shapes of brute animals." And taking courage, he said again, "If ye
can, and have received power against me, delay not, but attack; but
if ye cannot, why do ye disturb me in vain? For a seal to us and a
wall of safety is our faith in the Lord." The daemons, having made
many efforts, gnashed their teeth at him, because he rather mocked
at them, than they at him. But neither then did the Lord forget
Antony's wrestling, but appeared to help him. For, looking up, he
saw the roof as it were opened and a ray of light coming down
towards him. The daemons suddenly became invisible, and the pain of
his body forthwith ceased, and the building became quite whole. But
Antony, feeling the succour, and getting his breath again, and freed
from pain, questioned the vision which appeared, saying, "Where wert
thou? Why didst thou not appear to me from the first, to stop my
pangs?" And a voice came to him, "Antony, I was here, but I waited
to see thy fight. Therefore, since thou hast withstood, and not
been worsted, I will be to thee always a succour, and will make thee
become famous everywhere." Hearing this, he rose and prayed, and
was so strong, that he felt that he had more power in his body than
he had before. He was then about thirty-and-five years old. And on
the morrow he went out, and was yet more eager for devotion to God;
and, going to that old man aforesaid, he asked him to dwell with him
in the desert. But when he declined, because of his age, and
because no such custom had yet arisen, he himself straightway set
off to the mountain. But the enemy again, seeing his earnestness,
and wishing to hinder it, cast in his way the phantom of a great
silver plate. But Antony, perceiving the trick of him who hates
what is noble, stopped. And he judged the plate worthless, seeing
the devil in it; and said, "Whence comes a plate in the desert?
This is no beaten way, nor is there here the footstep of any
traveller. Had it fallen, it could not have been unperceived, from
its great size; and besides, he who lost it would have turned back
and found it, because the place is desert. This is a trick of the
devil. Thou shalt not hinder, devil, my determination by this: let
it go with thee into perdition." And as Antony said that, it
vanished, as smoke from before the face of the fire. Then again he
saw, not this time a phantom, but real gold lying in the way as he
came up. But whether the enemy showed it him, or whether some
better power, which was trying the athlete, and showing the devil
that he did not care for real wealth; neither did he tell, nor do we
know, save that it was real gold. Antony, wondering at the
abundance of it, so stepped over it as over fire, and so passed it
by, that he never turned, but ran on in haste, until he had lost
sight of the place. And growing even more and more intense in his
determination, he rushed up the mountain, and finding an empty
inclosure full of creeping things on account of its age, he betook
himself across the river, and dwelt in it. The creeping things, as
if pursued by some one, straightway left the place: but he blocked
up the entry, having taken with him loaves for six months (for the
Thebans do this, and they often remain a whole year fresh), and
having water with him, entering, as into a sanctuary, into that
monastery, {44} he remained alone, never going forth, and never
looking at any one who came. Thus he passed a long time there
training himself, and only twice a year received loaves, let down
from above through the roof. But those of his acquaintance who came
to him, as they often remained days and nights outside (for he did
not allow any one to enter), used to hear as it were crowds inside
clamouring, thundering, lamenting, crying--"Depart from our ground.
What dost thou even in the desert? Thou canst not abide our onset."
At first those without thought that there were some men fighting
with him, and that they had got in by ladders: but when, peeping in
through a crack, they saw no one, then they took for granted that
they were daemons, and being terrified, called themselves on Antony.
But he rather listened to them than cared for the others. For his
acquaintances came up continually, expecting to find him dead, and
heard him singing, "Let the Lord arise, and his enemies shall be
scattered; and let them who hate him flee before him. As wax melts
from before the face of the fire, so shall sinners perish from
before the face of God." And again, "All nations compassed me round
about, and in the name of the Lord I repelled them." He endured
then for twenty years, thus training himself alone; neither going
forth, nor seen by any one for long periods of time. But after
this, when many longed for him, and wished to imitate his training,
and others who knew him came, and were bursting in the door by
force, Antony came forth as from some inner shrine, initiated into
the mysteries, and bearing the God. {45} And then first he appeared
out of the inclosure to those who were coming to him. And when they
saw him they wondered; for his body had kept the same habit, and had
neither grown fat, nor lean from fasting, nor worn by fighting with
the daemons. For he was just such as they had known him before his
retirement. They wondered again at the purity of his soul, because
it was neither contracted as if by grief, nor relaxed by pleasure,
nor possessed by laughter or by depression; for he was neither
troubled at beholding the crowd, nor over-joyful at being saluted by
too many; but was altogether equal, as being governed by reason, and
standing on that which is according to nature. Many sufferers in
body who were present did the Lord heal by him; and others he purged
from daemons. And he gave to Antony grace in speaking, so that he
comforted many who grieved, and reconciled others who were at
variance, exhorting all to prefer nothing in the world to the love
of Christ, and persuading and exhorting them to be mindful of the
good things to come, and of the love of God towards us, who spared
not his own son, but delivered him up for us all. He persuaded many
to choose the solitary life; and so thenceforth cells sprang up in
the mountains, and the desert was colonized by monks, who went forth
from their own, and registered themselves in the city which is in
heaven.

And when he had need to cross the Arsenoite Canal (and the need was
the superintendence of the brethren), the canal was full of
crocodiles. And having only prayed, he entered it; and both he and
all who were with him went through it unharmed. But when he
returned to the cell, he persisted in the noble labours of his
youth; and by continued exhortations he increased the willingness of
those who were already monks, and stirred to love of training the
greater number of the rest; and quickly, as his speech drew men on,
the cells became more numerous; and he governed them all as a
father. And when he had gone forth one day, and all the monks had
come to him desiring to hear some word from him, he spake to them in
the Egyptian tongue, thus--"That the Scriptures were sufficient for
instruction, but that it was good for us to exhort each other in the
faith." . . .

[Here follows a long sermon, historically important, as being the
earliest Christian attempt to reduce to a science daemonology and
the temptation of daemons: but its involved and rhetorical form
proves sufficiently that it could not have been delivered by an
unlettered man like Antony. Neither is it, probably, even composed
by St. Athanasius; it seems rather, like several other passages in
this biography, the interpolation of some later scribe. It has
been, therefore, omitted.]

And when Antony had spoken thus, all rejoiced; and in one the love
of virtue was increased, in another negligence stirred up, and in
others conceit stopped, while all were persuaded to despise the
plots of the devil, wondering at the grace which had been given to
Antony by the Lord for the discernment of spirits. So the cells in
the mountains were like tents filled with divine choirs, singing,
discoursing, fasting, praying, rejoicing over the hope of the
future, working that they might give alms thereof, and having love
and concord with each other. And there was really to be seen, as it
were, a land by itself, of piety and justice; for there was none
there who did wrong, or suffered wrong: no blame from any
talebearer: but a multitude of men training themselves, and in all
of them a mind set on virtue. So that any one seeing the cells, and
such an array of monks, would have cried out, and said, "How fair
are thy dwellings, O Jacob, and thy tents, O Israel; like shady
groves and like parks beside a river, and like tents which the Lord
hath pitched, and like cedars by the waters." He himself,
meanwhile, withdrawing, according to his custom, alone to his own
cell, increased the severity of his training. And he groaned daily,
considering the mansions in heaven, and setting his longing on them,
and looking at the ephemeral life of man. For even when he was
going to eat or sleep, he was ashamed, when he considered the
rational element of his soul; so that often, when he was about to
eat with many other monks, he remembered the spiritual food, and
declined, and went far away from them; thinking that he should blush
if he was seen by others eating. He ate, nevertheless, by himself,
on account of the necessities of the body; and often, too, with the
brethren, being bashful with regard to them, but plucking up heart
for the sake of saying something that might be useful; and used to
tell them that they ought to give all their leisure rather to the
soul than to the body; and that they should grant a very little time
to the body, for mere necessity's sake: but that their whole
leisure should be rather given to the soul, and should seek her
profit, that she may not be drawn down by the pleasures of the body,
but rather the body be led captive by her. For this (he said) was
what was spoken by the Saviour, "Be not anxious for your soul, what
ye shall eat; nor for your body, what ye shall put on. And seek not
what ye shall eat, nor what ye shall drink, neither let your minds
be in suspense: for after all these things the nations of the world
seek: but your Father knoweth that ye need all these things.
Rather seek first his kingdom; and all these things shall be added
unto you."

After these things, the persecution which happened under the
Maximinus of that time, {49} laid hold of the Church; and when the
holy martyrs were brought to Alexandria, Antony too followed,
leaving his cell, and saying, "Let us depart too, that we may
wrestle if we be called, or see them wrestling." And he longed to
be a martyr himself, but, not choosing to give himself up, he
ministered to the confessors in the mines, and in the prisons. And
he was very earnest in the judgment-hall to excite the readiness of
those who were called upon to wrestle; and to receive and bring on
their way, till they were perfected, those of them who went to
martyrdom. At last the judge, seeing the fearlessness and
earnestness of him and those who were with him, commanded that none
of the monks should appear in the judgment-hall, or haunt at all in
the city. So all the rest thought good to hide themselves that day;
but Antony cared so much for the order, that he all the rather
washed his cloak, and stood next day upon a high place, and appeared
to the General in shining white. Therefore, when all the rest
wondered, and the General saw him, and passed by with his array, he
stood fearless, showing forth the readiness of us Christians. For
he himself prayed to be a martyr, as I have said, and was like one
grieved, because he had not borne his witness. But the Lord was
preserving him for our benefit, and that of the rest, that he might
become a teacher to many in the training which he had learnt from
Scripture. For many, when they only saw his manner of life, were
eager to emulate it. So he again ministered continually to the
confessors; and, as if bound with them, wearied himself in his
services. And when at last the persecution ceased, and the blessed
Bishop Peter had been martyred, he left the city, and went back to
his cell. And he was there, day by day, a martyr in his conscience,
and wrestling in the conflict of faith; for he imposed on himself a
much more severe training than before; and his garment was within of
hair, without of skin, which he kept till his end. He neither
washed his body with water, nor ever cleansed his feet, nor actually
endured putting them into water unless it were necessary. And no
one ever saw him unclothed till he was dead and about to be buried.

When, then, he retired, and had resolved neither to go forth
himself, nor to receive any one, one Martinianus, a captain of
soldiers, came and gave trouble to Antony. For he had with him his
daughter, who was tormented by a daemon. And while he remained a
long time knocking at the door, and expecting him to come to pray to
God for the child, Antony could not bear to open, but leaning from
above, said, "Man, why criest thou to me? I, too, am a man, as thou
art. But if thou believest, pray to God, and it comes to pass."
Forthwith, therefore, he believed, and called on Christ; and went
away, with his daughter cleansed from the daemon. And many other
things the Lord did by him, saying, "Ask, and it shall be given
you." For most of the sufferers, when he did not open the door,
only sat down outside the cell, and believing, and praying honestly,
were cleansed. But when he saw himself troubled by many, and not
being permitted to retire, as he wished, being afraid lest he
himself should be puffed up by what the Lord was doing by him, or
lest others should count of him above what he was, he resolved to go
to the Upper Thebaid, to those who knew him not. And, in fact,
having taken loaves from the brethren, he sat down on the bank of
the river, watching for a boat to pass, that he might embark and go
up in it. And as he watched, a voice came to him: "Antony, whither
art thou going, and why?" And he, not terrified, but as one
accustomed to be often called thus, answered when he heard it,
"Because the crowds will not let me be at rest; therefore am I
minded to go up to the Upper Thebaid, on account of the many
annoyances which befall me; and, above all, because they ask of me
things beyond my strength." And the voice said to him, "Even if
thou goest up to the Thebaid, even if, as thou art minded to do,
thou goest down the cattle pastures, {52a} thou wilt have to endure
more, and double trouble; but if thou wilt really be at rest, go now
into the inner desert." And when Antony said, "Who will show me the
way, for I have not tried it?" forthwith it showed him Saracens who
were going to journey that road. So, going to them, and drawing
near them, Antony asked leave to depart with them into the desert.
But they, as if by an ordinance of Providence, willingly received
him; and, journeying three days and three nights with them, he came
to a very high mountain; {52b} and there was water under the
mountain, clear, sweet, and very cold; and a plain outside; and a
few neglected date-palms. Then Antony, as if stirred by God, loved
the spot; for this it was what he had pointed out who spoke to him
beside the river bank. At first, then, having received bread from
those who journeyed with him, he remained alone in the mount, no one
else being with him. For he recognised that place as his own home,
and kept it thenceforth. And the Saracens themselves, seeing
Antony's readiness, came that way on purpose, and joyfully brought
him loaves; and he had, too, the solace of the dates, which was then
little and paltry. But after this, the brethren, having found out
the spot, like children remembering their father, were anxious to
send things to him; but Antony saw that, in bringing him bread, some
there were put to trouble and fatigue; and, sparing the monks even
in that, took counsel with himself, and asked some who came to him
to bring him a hoe and a hatchet, and a little corn; and when these
were brought, having gone over the land round the mountain, he found
a very narrow place which was suitable, and tilled it; and, having
plenty of water to irrigate it, he sowed; and, doing this year by
year, he got his bread from thence, rejoicing that he should be
troublesome to no one on that account, and that he was keeping
himself free from obligation in all things. But after this, seeing
again some people coming, he planted also a very few pot-herbs, that
he who came might have some small solace after the labour of that
hard journey. At first, however, the wild beasts in the desert,
coming on account of the water, often hurt his crops and his
tillage; but he, gently laying hold of one of them, said to them
all, "Why do you hurt me, who have not hurt you? Depart, and, in
the name of the Lord, never come near this place." And from that
time forward, as if they were afraid of his command, they never came
near the place. So he was there alone in the inner mountain, having
leisure for prayer and for training. But the brethren who
ministered to him asked him that, coming every month, they might
bring him olives, and pulse, and oil; for, after all, he was old.
And while he had his conversation there, what great wrestlings he
endured, according to that which is written, "Not against flesh and
blood, but against the daemons who are our adversaries," we have
known from those who went in to him. For there also they heard
tumults, and many voices, and clashing as of arms; and they beheld
the mount by night full of wild beasts, and they looked on him, too,
fighting, as it were, with beings whom he saw, and praying against
them. And those who came to him he bade be of good courage, but he
himself wrestled, bending his knees, and praying to the Lord. And
it was truly worthy of wonder that, alone in such a desert, he was
neither cowed by the daemons who beset him, nor, while there were
there so many four-footed and creeping beasts, was at all afraid of
their fierceness: but, as is written, trusted in the Lord like the
Mount Zion, having his reason unshaken and untost; so that the
daemons rather fled, and the wild beasts, as is written, were at
peace with him.

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