Books: The Hermits

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Nevertheless, the devil (as David sings) watched Antony, and gnashed
upon him with his teeth. But Antony was comforted by the Saviour,
remaining unhurt by his craft and manifold artifices. For on him,
when he was awake at night, he let loose wild beasts; and almost all
the hyaenas in that desert, coming out of their burrows, beset him
round, and he was in the midst. And when each gaped on him and
threatened to bite him, perceiving the art of the enemy, he said to
them all, "If ye have received power against me, I am ready to be
devoured by you: but if ye have been set on by daemons, delay not,
but withdraw, for I am a servant of Christ." When Antony said this,
they fled, pursued by his words as by a whip. Next after a few
days, as he was working--for he took care, too, to labour--some one
standing at the door pulled the plait that he was working. For he
was weaving baskets, which he used to give to those who came, in
return for what they brought him. And rising up, he saw a beast,
like a man down to his thighs, but having legs and feet like an ass;
and Antony only crossed himself and said, "I am a servant of Christ.
If thou hast been sent against me, behold, here I am." And the
beast with its daemons fled away, so that in its haste it fell and
died. Now the death of the beast was the fall of the daemons. For
they were eager to do everything to bring him back out of the
desert, but could not prevail.

And being once asked by the monks to come down to them, and to visit
awhile them and their places, he journeyed with the monks who came
to meet him. And a camel carried their loaves and their water; for
that desert is all dry, and there is no drinkable water unless in
that mountain alone whence they drew their water, and where his cell
is. But when the water failed on the journey, and the heat was most
intense, they all began to be in danger; for going round to various
places, and finding no water, they could walk no more, but lay down
on the ground, and they let the camel go, and gave themselves up.
But the old man, seeing them all in danger, was utterly grieved, and
groaned; and departing a little way from them, and bending his knees
and stretching out his hands, he prayed, and forthwith the Lord
caused water to come out where he had stopped and prayed. And thus
all of them drinking took breath again; and having filled their
skins, they sought the camel, and found her; for it befell that the
halter had been twisted round a stone, and thus she had been
stopped. So, having brought her back, and given her to drink, they
put the skins on her, and went through their journey unharmed. And
when they came to the outer cells all embraced him, looking on him
as a father. And he, as if he brought them guest-gifts from the
mountain, gave them away to them in his words, and shared his
benefits among them. And there was joy again in the mountains, and
zeal for improvement, and comfort through their faith in each other.
And he too rejoiced, seeing the willingness of the monks, and his
sister grown old in maidenhood, and herself the leader of other
virgins. And so after certain days he went back again to the
mountain.

And after that many came to him; and others who suffered dared also
to come. Now to all the monks who came to him he gave continually
this command: To trust in the Lord and love him, and to keep
themselves from foul thoughts and fleshly pleasures; and, as is
written in the Parables, not to be deceived by fulness of bread; and
to avoid vainglory; and to pray continually; and to sing before
sleep and after sleep; and to lay by in their hearts the commandment
of Scripture; and to remember the works of the saints, in order to
have their souls attuned to emulate them. But especially he
counselled them to meditate continually on the Apostle's saying,
"Let not the sun go down upon your wrath;" and this he said was
spoken of all commandments in common, in order that not on wrath
alone, but on every other sin, the sun should never go down; for it
was noble and necessary that the sun should never condemn us for a
baseness by day, nor the moon for a sin or even a thought by night;
therefore, in order that that which is noble may be preserved in us,
it was good to hear and to keep what the Apostle commanded: for he
said: "Judge yourselves, and prove yourselves." Let each then take
account with himself, day by day, of his daily and nightly deeds;
and if he has not sinned, let him not boast, but let him endure in
what is good and not be negligent, neither condemn his neighbour,
neither justify himself, as said the blessed Apostle Paul, until the
Lord comes who searches secret things. For we often deceive
ourselves in what we do, and we indeed know not: but the Lord
comprehends all. Giving therefore the judgment to Him, let us
sympathise with each other; and let us bear each other's burdens,
and examine ourselves; and what we are behind in, let us be eager to
fill up. And let this, too, be my counsel for safety against
sinning. Let us each note and write down the deeds and motions of
the soul as if he were about to relate them to each other; and be
confident that, as we shall be utterly ashamed that they should be
known, we shall cease from sinning, and even from desiring anything
mean. For who when he sins wishes to be harmed thereby? Or who,
having sinned, does not rather lie, wishing to hide it? As
therefore when in each other's sight we dare not commit a crime, so
if we write down our thoughts, and tell them to each other, we shall
keep ourselves the more from foul thoughts, for shame lest they
should be known. . . . And thus forming ourselves we shall be able
to bring the body into slavery, and please the Lord on the one hand,
and on the other trample on the snares of the enemy." This was his
exhortation to those who met him: but with those who suffered he
suffered, and prayed with them. And often and in many things the
Lord heard him; and neither when he was heard did he boast; nor when
he was not heard did he murmur: but, remaining always the same,
gave thanks to the Lord. And those who suffered he exhorted to keep
up heart, and to know that the power of cure was none of his, nor of
any man's; but only belonged to God, who works when and whatsoever
he chooses. So the sufferers received this as a remedy, learning
not to despise the old man's words, but rather to keep up heart; and
those who were cured learned not to bless Antony, but God alone.

For instance, one called Fronto, who belonged to the palace, and had
a grievous disease (for he gnawed his own tongue, and tried to
injure his eyes), came to the mountain and asked Antony to pray for
him. And when he had prayed he said to Fronto, "Depart, and be
healed." And when he resisted, and remained within some days,
Antony continued saying, "Thou canst not be healed if thou remainest
here; go forth, and as soon as thou enterest Egypt, thou shalt see
the sign which shall befall thee." He, believing, went forth; and
as soon as he only saw Egypt he was freed from his disease, and
became sound according to the word of Antony, which he had learnt by
prayer from the Saviour . . .

[Here follows a story of a girl cured of a painful complaint: which
need not be translated.]

But when two brethren were coming to him, and water failed them on
the journey, one of them died, and the other was about to die. In
fact, being no longer able to walk, he too lay upon the ground
expecting death. But Antony, as he sat on the mountain, called two
monks who happened to be there, and hastened them, saying, "Take a
pitcher of water, and run on the road towards Egypt; for of two who
are coming hither one has just expired, and the other will do so if
you do not hasten. For this has been showed to me as I prayed." So
the monks going found the one lying dead, and buried him; and the
other they recovered with the water, and brought him to the old man.
Now the distance was a day's journey. But if any one should ask why
he did not speak before one of them expired, he does not question
rightly; for the judgment of that death did not belong to Antony,
but to God, who both judged concerning the one; and revealed
concerning the other. But this alone in Antony was wonderful, that
sitting on the mountain he kept his heart watchful, and the Lord
showed him things afar off.

For once again, as he sat on the mountain and looked up, he saw some
one carried aloft, and a great rejoicing among some who met him.
Then wondering, and blessing such a choir, he prayed to be taught
what that might be; and straightway a voice came to him that this
was the soul of Ammon, the monk in Nitria, {60} who had persevered
as an ascetic to his old age; and the distance from Nitria to the
mountain where Antony was, is thirteen days' journey. Those then
who were with Antony, seeing the old man wondering, asked the
reason, and heard that Ammon had just expired, for he was known to
them on account of his having frequently come thither, and many
signs having been worked by him, of which this is one. . . .

[Here follows the story (probably an interpolation) of Ammon's being
miraculously carried across the river Lycus, because he was ashamed
to undress himself.]

But the monks to whom Antony spoke about Ammon's death noted down
the day; and when brethren came from Nitria after thirty days, they
inquired and learnt that Ammon had fallen asleep at the day and hour
in which the old man saw his soul carried aloft. And all on both
sides wondered at the purity of Antony's soul; how he had learnt and
seen instantly what had happened thirteen days' journey off.

Moreover, Archeleas the Count, finding him once in the outer
mountain praying alone, asked him concerning Polycratia, that
wonderful and Christ-bearing maiden in Laodicea; for she suffered
dreadful internal pain from her extreme training, and was altogether
weak in body. Antony, therefore, prayed; and the Count noted down
the day on which the prayer was offered. And going back to
Laodicea, he found the maiden cured; and asking when and on what day
her malady had ceased, he brought out the paper on which he had
written down the date of the prayer. And when she told him, he
showed at once the writing on the paper. And all found that the
Lord had stopped her sufferings while Antony was still praying and
calling for her on the goodness of the Saviour.

And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days,
or even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming.
For some came only to see him, and others on account of sickness,
and others because they suffered from daemons, and all thought the
labour of the journey no trouble nor harm, for each went back aware
that he had been benefited. And when he spoke and looked thus, he
asked no one to marvel at him on that account, but to marvel rather
at the Lord, because he had given us, who are but men, grace to know
him according to our powers. And as he was going down again to the
outer cells, and was minded to enter a boat and pray with the monks,
he alone perceived a dreadfully evil odour, and when those in the
boat told him that they had fish and brine on board, and that it was
they which smelt, he said that it was a different smell; and while
he was yet speaking, a youth, who had an evil spirit, had gone
before them and hidden in the boat, suddenly cried out. But the
daemon, being rebuked in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, went out
of him, and the man became whole, and all knew that the smell had
come from the evil spirit. And there was another man of high rank
who came to him, having a daemon, and one so terrible, that the
possessed man did not know that he was going to Antony, but [showed
the common symptoms of mania]. Those who brought him entreated
Antony to pray over him, which he did, feeling for the young man,
and he watched beside him all night. But about dawn, the young man,
suddenly rushing on Antony, assaulted him. When those who came with
him were indignant, Antony said, "Be not hard upon the youth, for it
is not he, but the daemon in him; and because he has been rebuked,
and commanded to go forth into dry places, he has become furious,
and done this. Glorify, therefore, the Lord for his having thus
rushed upon me, as a sign to you that the daemon is going out." And
as Antony said this, the youth suddenly became sound, and,
recovering his reason, knew where he was, and embraced the old man,
giving thanks to God. And most of the monks agree unanimously that
many like things were done by him: yet are they not so wonderful as
what follows. For once, when he was going to eat, and rose up to
pray about the ninth hour, he felt himself rapt in spirit; and
(wonderful to relate) as he stood he saw himself as it were taken
out of himself, and led into the air by some persons; and then
others, bitter and terrible, standing in the air, and trying to
prevent his passing upwards. And when those who led him fought
against them, they demanded whether he was not accountable to them.
And when they began to take account of his deeds from his birth, his
guides stopped them, saying, "What happened from his birth upwards,
the Lord hath wiped out: but of what has happened since he became a
monk, and made a promise to God, of that you may demand an account."
Then, when they brought accusations against him, and could not prove
them, the road was opened freely to him. And straightway he saw
himself as if coming back and standing before himself, and was
Antony once more. Then, forgetting that he had not eaten, he
remained the rest of the day and all night groaning and praying, for
he wondered when he saw against how many enemies we must wrestle,
and through how many labours a man must traverse the air; and he
remembered that it is this which the Apostle means with regard to
the Prince of the power of the air; for it is in the air that the
enemy has his power, fighting against those who pass through it, and
trying to hinder them. Wherefore, also he especially exhorts us:
"Take the whole armour of God, that the enemy, having no evil to say
about us, may be ashamed." But when we heard this, we remembered
the Apostle's saying, "Whether in the body I cannot tell, or out of
the body I cannot tell: God knoweth." But Paul was caught up into
the third heaven, and, having heard unspeakable words, descended
again; but Antony saw himself rapt in the air, and wrestling till he
seemed to be free.

Again, he had this grace, that as he was sitting alone in the
mountain, if at any time he was puzzled in himself, the thing was
revealed to him by Providence as he prayed; and the blessed man was,
as Scripture says, taught of God. After this, at all events, when
he had been talking with some who came to him concerning the
departure of the soul, and what would be its place after this life,
the next night some one called him from without, and said, "Rise up,
Antony; come out and see." So coming out (for he knew whom he ought
to obey), he beheld a tall being, shapeless and terrible, standing
and reaching to the clouds, and as it were winged beings ascending;
and him stretching out his hands; and some of them hindered by him,
and others flying above him, and when they had once passed him,
borne upwards without trouble. But against them that tall being
gnashed his teeth, while over those who fell, he rejoiced. And
there came a voice to Antony, "Consider what thou seest." And when
his understanding was opened, he perceived that it was the enemy who
envies the faithful, and that those who were in his power he
mastered and hindered from passing; but that those who had not
obeyed him, over them, as over conquerors, he had no power. Having
seen this, and as it were made mindful by it, he struggled more and
more daily to improve. Now these things he did not tell of his own
accord; but when he was long in prayer, and astonished in himself,
those who were with him questioned him and urged him; and he was
forced to tell; unable, as a father, to hide anything from his
children; and considering, too, that his own conscience was clear,
and the story would be profitable for them, when they learned that
the life of training bore good fruit, and that visions often came as
a solace of their toils.

But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit; for
though he was so great, he both honoured exceedingly the canon of
the Church, and wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in
honour. For to the bishops and presbyters he was not ashamed to bow
his head; and if a deacon ever came to him for the sake of profit,
he discoursed with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he gave
place to him, not being ashamed even himself to learn from him. {65}
For he often asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present,
confessing that he was profited if any one said aught that was
useful. Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace;
and this gift too he had from the Saviour. For if he was present
among the multitude of monks, and any one who did not previously
know him wished to see him, as soon as he came he passed by all the
rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by his eyes. He
did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the
steadiness of his temper, and purity of his soul; for as his soul
was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so
that the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful, and from
the movements of his body the stedfastness of his soul could be
perceived, according to the Scripture, "When the heart is cheerful
the countenance is glad; but when sorrow comes it scowleth." . . .
And he was altogether wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never
communicated with the Meletian {66a} schismatics, knowing their
malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor did he converse amicably
with Manichaeans or any other heretics, save only to exhort them to
be converted to piety. For he held that their friendship and
converse was injury and ruin to the soul. So also he detested the
heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to approach them, nor
hold their misbelief. {66b} In fact, when certain of the
Ariomanites came to him, having discerned them and found them
impious, he chased them out of the mountain, saying that their words
were worse than serpent's poison; and when the Arians once pretended
that he was of the same opinion as they, he was indignant and fierce
against them. Then being sent for by the bishops and all the
brethren, he went down from the mountain, and entering Alexandria he
denounced the Arians, saying, that that was the last heresy, and the
forerunner of Antichrist; and he taught the people that the Son of
God was not a created thing, neither made from nought, but that he
is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Essence of the Father;
wherefore also it is impious to say there was a time when he was
not, for he was always the Word co-existent with the Father.
Wherefore he said, "Do not have any communication with these most
impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and
darkness. For you are pious Christians: but they, when they say
that the Son of God and the Word, who is from the Father, is a
created being, differ nought from the heathen, because they worship
the creature instead of God the Creator. {67} Believe rather that
the whole creation itself is indignant against them, because they
number the Creator and Lord of all, in whom all things are made,
among created things." All the people therefore rejoiced at hearing
that Christ-opposing heresy anathematized by such a man; and all
those in the city ran together to see Antony and the Greeks, {68a}
and those who are called their priests {68b} came into the church,
wishing to see the man of God; for all called him by that name,
because there the Lord cleansed many by him from daemons, and healed
those who were out of their mind. And many heathens wished only to
touch the old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in
fact as many became Christians in those few days, as would have been
usually converted in a year. And when some thought that the crowd
troubled him, and therefore turned all away from him, he quietly
said that they were not more numerous than the fiends with whom he
wrestled on the mountain. But when he left the city, and we were
setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate a certain woman
called to him: "Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously vexed
with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with
running after thee." The old man hearing it, and being asked by us,
waited willingly. But when the woman drew near, the child dashed
itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on the name
of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out; and
the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself
rejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.

Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never
learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man. Once, for
example, two Greek philosophers came to him, thinking that they
could tempt Antony. And he was in the outer mountain; and when he
went out to them, understanding the men from their countenances, he
said through an interpreter, "Why have you troubled yourselves so
much, philosophers, to come to a foolish man?" And when they
answered that he was not foolish, but rather very wise, he said, "If
you have come to a fool, your labour is superfluous, but if ye think
me to be wise, become as I am; for we ought to copy what is good,
and if I had come to you, I should have copied you; but if you come
to me, copy me, for I am a Christian." And they wondering went
their way, for they saw that even daemons were afraid of Antony.

And again when others of the same class met him in the outer
mountain, and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt
letters, Antony answered, "But what do you say? which is first, the
sense or the letters? And which is the cause of the other, the
sense of the letters, or the letters of the sense?" And when they
said that the sense came first, and invented the letters, Antony
replied, "If then the sense be sound, the letters are not needed."
Which struck them, and those present, with astonishment. So they
went away wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an
unlearned man. For though he had lived and grown old in the
mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and urbane; and
his speech was seasoned with the divine salt, so that no man grudged
at him, but rather rejoiced over him, as many as came. . . .

[Here follows a long sermon against the heathen worship, attributed
to St. Antony, but of very questionable authenticity: the only
point about it which is worthy of note is that Antony confutes the
philosophers by challenging them to cure some possessed persons,
and, when they are unable to do so, casts out the daemons himself by
the sign of the cross.]

The fame of Antony reached even the kings, for Constantinus the
Augustus, and his sons, Constantius and Constans, the Augusti,
hearing of these things, wrote to him as to a father, and begged to
receive an answer from him. But he did not make much of the
letters, nor was puffed up by their messages; and he was just the
same as he was before the kings wrote to him. And he called his
monks and said, "Wonder not if a king writes to us, for he is but a
man: but wonder rather that God has written his law to man, and
spoken to us by his own Son." So he declined to receive their
letters, saying he did not know how to write an answer to such
things; but being admonished by the monks that the kings were
Christians, and that they must not be scandalized by being despised,
he permitted the letters to be read, and wrote an answer; accepting
them because they worshipped Christ, and counselling them, for their
salvation, not to think the present life great, but rather to
remember judgment to come; and to know that Christ was the only true
and eternal king; and he begged them to be merciful to men, and to
think of justice and the poor. And they, when they received the
answer, rejoiced. Thus was he kindly towards all, and all looked on
him as their father. He then betook himself again into the inner
mountain, and continued his accustomed training. But often, when he
was sitting and walking with those who came unto him, he was
astounded, as is written in Daniel. And after the space of an hour,
he told what had befallen to the brethren who were with him, and
they perceived that he had seen some vision. Often he saw in the
mountain what was happening in Egypt, and told it to Serapion the
bishop, who saw him occupied with a vision. Once, for instance, as
he sat, he fell as it were into an ecstasy, and groaned much at what
he saw. Then, after an hour, turning to those who were with him, he
groaned and fell into a trembling, and rose up and prayed, and
bending his knees, remained so a long while; and then the old man
rose up and wept. The bystanders, therefore, trembling and
altogether terrified, asked him to tell them what had happened, and
tormented him much, that he was forced to speak. And he groaning
greatly--"Ah! my children," he said, "it were better to be dead
before what I have seen shall come to pass." And when they asked
him again, he said with tears, that "Wrath will seize on the Church,
and she will be given over to men like unto brutes, which have no
understanding; for I saw the table of the Lord's house, and mules
standing all around it in a ring and kicking inwards, as a herd does
when it leaps in confusion; and ye all perceived how I groaned, for
I heard a voice saying, 'My sanctuary shall be defiled.'"

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