(NOTE: The electronic text obtained from The Electronic Bible Society was
not completely corrected. EWTN has corrected all discovered errors.)

Transliteration of Greek words: All phonetical except: w = omega; h serves
three puposes: 1. = Eta; 2. = rough breathing, when appearing initially
before a vowel; 3. = in the aspirated letters theta = th, phi = ph, chi =
ch. Accents are given immediately after their corresponding vowels: acute =
' , grave = `, circumflex = ^. The character ' doubles as an apostrophe,
when necessary.


JOHN CASSIAN

THE TWELVE BOOKS

ON THE INSTITUTES OF THE COENOBIA

AND THE REMEDIES FOR THE EIGHT PRINCIPAL FAULTS.

[Translated by the Rev. Edgar C. S. Gibson, M.A., Principal of the
Theological College, Wells, Somerset.]


PREFACE

THE history of the Old Testament tells us that the most wise Solomon received from heaven "wisdom and understanding exceeding much, and largeness of heart eve as the sand that is on the seashore that cannot be counted;"(1) so that by the Lord's testimony we may say that no one either has arisen in time past to equal him  or will arise after him: and afterward, when wishing to raise that magnificent temple to the Lord, we are told that he asked the help of a foreigner, the king of Tyre. And when there was sent to him one Hiram, the son of a widow woman,(2) it was by his means and ministration that he executed all the glorious things which he devised by the suggestion of the Divine wisdom either for the temple of the Lord or for the sacred vessels. If, then, that power that was higher than all the kingdoms of the earth, and that noble and illustrious scion of the race of Isarel, and that divinely inspired wisdom which excelled the training and customs of all the Easterns and Egyptians, by no means disdained the advice of a poor man and a foreigner, rightly also do you, most blessed Pope(3) Castor, taught by these examples, deign to call in me, a worthless creature though I am, and in every respect as poor as possible, to share in so great a work. When you are planning to build a true and reasonable temple for God, not with inanimate stones but with a congregation of saints, and no temporal or corruptible building, but one that is eternal and cannot be shaken; and desiring also to consecrate to the Lord most precious vessels not forged of dumb(4) metal of gold or silver, which a Babylonish monarch may afterwards take and devote to the pleasures of the concubines and princes,(5) but fashioned of holy souls which shine with the uprightness of innocence, righteousness, and purity, and bear about Christ abiding in themselves as King;--since, then, you are anxious that the institutions of the East and especially of Egypt should be established in your province, which is at present without monasteries,(6) although you yourself are perfect in all the virtues and knowledge and so filled with all spiritual riches that not only are your talk but even your life alone is amply sufficient for an example to those who are seeking perfection,--yet you ask me, not knowing what to say, and feeble in speech and knowledge, to contribute something from the scanty supply of my thoughts toward the satisfaction of your desire; and you charge me to declare, although with inexpert pen, the customs of the monasteries which we have seen observed throughout Egypt and Palestine, as they were there delivered to us  by the Fathers; not looking for graceful speech, in which you yourself are especially skilled, but wanting the simple life of holy men to be told in simple language to the brethren in your new monastery. But in proportion as a dutiful desire of granting your request urges me to obey, so do manifold difficulties and embarrassments deter me when wishing to comply. First, because my merits are not so proportioned to my age as for me to trust that I can worthily comprehend with my mind and heart matters so difficult, so obscure, and so sacred. Secondly, because that which we either tried to do or learnt or saw when from our earliest youth we lived among them and were urged on by their daily exhortations and examples,--this we can scarcely retain in its entirety when we have been for so many years withdrawn from intercourse with them and from following their mode of life; especially as the method of these things cannot possibly be taught or understood or kept in the memory by idle meditation and verbal teaching, for it depends entirely on experience and practice. And, as these things cannot be taught save by one who has had experience of them, so they cannot even be learnt or understood except by one who has tried with equal care and pains to grasp them; while, unless they are often discussed and well worn in frequent conferences with spirituals men, they quickly fade away through carelessness of mind. Thirdly, because a discourse that is lacking in skill cannot properly expound those things which we can recall to mind, not as the things themselves deserve, but as our condition allows us. to this it must be added that on this very subject men who were noble in life and eminent for speech and knowledge have already put forth several little books. I mean Basil and Jerome, and some others, the former of whom, when the brethren asked about various rules and questions, replied in language that was not only eloquent but rich in testimonies from Holy Scripture; while the latter not only published works that were the offspring of his own genius, but also translated into Latin works that had been written in Greek.(1) And, after such abundant streams of eloquence, I might not unfairly be accused of presumption for trying to produce this feeble rill, were it not that the confidence of your holiness encouraged me, and the assurance that these trifles would be acceptable to you, whatever they were like, and that you would send them to the congregation of the brethren dwelling in your newly founded monastery. And if by chance I have said anything without sufficient care, may they kindly overlook it and endure it with a somewhat indulgent pardon, asking rather for trustworthiness of speech than for grace of style on my part. Wherefore, most blessed Pope, remarkable example of religion and humility, encouraged by your prayers, I will to the best of my ability approach the work which you enjoin; and those matters which were altogether left untouched by those who preceded us, since they endeavoured to describe what they had heard rather than what they had experienced, these things I will tell as to an inexperienced monastery, and to men who are indeed(2) athirst. Nor certainly shall I try to weave a tale of God's miracles and sings, although we have not only heard of many such among our elders, and those past belief, but have also seen them fulfilled under our very eyes; yet, leaving out all these things which minister to the reader nothing but astonishment and no instruction in the perfect life, I shall try, so far as I can, with the help of god, faithfully to explain only their institutions and the rules of their monasteries, and especially the origin and causes of the principal faults, of which they reckon eight, and the remedies for them according to their traditions,--since my purpose is to say a few words not about God's miracles, but about the way to improve our character, and the attainment of the perfect life, in accordance with that which we received from our elders. In this, too, I will try to satisfy your directions, so that, if I happen to find that anything has been either withdrawn or added in those countries not in accordance with the example of the elders established by ancient custom, but according to the fancy of any one who has founded a monastery, I will faithfully add it or omit it, in accordance with the rule which I have seen followed in the monasteries anciently founded throughout Egypt and Palestine, as I do not believe that a new establishment in the West, in the parts of Gaul could find anything more reasonable or more perfect than are those customs, in the observance of which the monasteries that have been founded by holy and spiritually minded fathers since the rise of apostolic preaching endure even to our own times. I shall, however, venture to exercise this discretion in my work,--that where I find anything in the rule of the Egyptians which, either because of the severity of the climate, or owing to some difficulty or diversity of habits, is impossible in these countries, or hard and difficult, I shall to some extent balance it by the customs of the monasteries which are found throughout Pontus and Mesopotamia; because, if due regard be paid to what things are possible, there is the same perfection in the observance although the power be unequal.


BOOK I.

OF THE DRESS OF THE MONKS.

CHAPTER I: Of the Monk's Girdle.

   As we are going to speak of the customs and rules of the monasteries,
how by God's grace can we better begin than with the actual dress of the
monks, for we shall then be able to expound in due course their interior
life when we have set their outward man before your eyes. A monk, then, as
a soldier of Christ ever ready for battle, ought always to walk with his
loins girded. For in this fashion, too, the authority of Holy Scripture
shows that they walked who in the Old Testament started the original of
this life,--I mean Elijah and Elisha; and, moreover, we know that the
leaders and authors of the New Testament, viz., John, Peter, and Paul, and
the others of the same rank, walked in the same manner. And of these the
first-mentioned, who even in the Old Testament displayed the flowers of a
virgin life and an example of chastity and continence, when he had been
sent by the Lord to rebuke the messengers of Ahaziah, the wicked king of
Israel, because when confined by sickness he had intended to consult
Beelzebub, the god of Ekron, on the state of his health, and thereupon the
said prophet had met them and said that he should not come down from the
bed on which he lay,--this man was made known to the bed-ridden king by the
description of the character of his clothing. For when the messengers
returned to him and brought back the prophet's message, he asked what the
man who had met them and spoken such words was like and how he was dressed.
"An hairy man," they said, "and girt with a girdle of leather about his
loins;" and by this dress the king at once saw that it was the man of God,
and said: "It is Elijah the Tishbite:"(1) i.e., by the evidence of the
girdle and the look of the hairy and unkempt body he recognized without the
slightest doubt the man of God, because this was always attached to him as
he dwelt among so many thousands of Israelites, as if it were impressed as
some special sign of his own particular style. Of John also, who came as a
sort of sacred boundary between the Old and New Testament, being both a
beginning and an ending, we know by the testimony of the Evangelist that
"the same John had his raiment of camel's hair and a girdle of skin about
his loins."(2)  When Peter also had been Jut in prison by Herod and was to
be brought forth to be slain on the next day, when the angel stood by him
he was charged: "Gird thyself and put on thy shoes."(3) And the angel of
the Lord would certainly not have charged him to do this had he not seen
that for the sake of his night's rest he had for a while freed his wearied
limbs from the girdle usually tied round them. Paul also, going up to
Jerusalem and soon to be put in chains by the Jews, was met at Caesarea by
the prophet Agabus, who took his girdle and bound his hands and feet to
show by his bodily actions the injuries which he was to suffer, and said:
"So shall the Jews in Jerusalem bind the man whose girdle this is, and
deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles."(1) And surely the prophet
would never have brought this forward, or have said "the man whose girdle
this is," unless Paul had always been accustomed to fasten it round his
loins.

CHAPTER II: Of the Monk's Robe.

   LET the robe also of the monk be such as may merely cover the body and
prevent the disgrace of nudity, and keep off harm from cold, not such as
may foster the seeds of vanity and pride; for the same apostle tells us:
"Having food and covering, with these let us be content."(2) "Covering," he
says, not "raiment," as is wrongly found in some Latin copies: that is,
what may merely cover the body, not what may please the fancy by the
splendour of the attire; commonplace, so that it may not be thought
remarkable for novelty of colour or fashion among other men of the same
profession; and quite free from anxious carefulness, yet not discoloured by
stains acquired through neglect. Lastly, let them be so far removed from
this world's fashions as to remain altogether common property for the use
of the servants of God. For whatever is claimed by one or a few among the
servants of God and is not the common property of the whole body. of the
brethren alike is either superfluous or vain, and for that reason to be
considered harmful, and affording an appearance of vanity rather than
virtue. And, therefore, whatever models we see were not taught either by
the saints of old who laid the foundations of the monastic life, or by the
fathers of our own time who in their turn keep up at the present day their
customs, these we also should reject as superfluous and useless: wherefore
they utterly disapproved of a robe of sackcloth as being visible to all and
conspicuous, and what from this very fact will not only confer no benefit
on the soul but rather minister to vanity and pride, and as being
inconvenient and unsuitable for the performance of necessary work for which
a monk ought always to go ready and unimpeded. But even if we hear of some
respectable persons who have been dressed in this garb, a rule for the
monasteries is not, therefore, to be passed by us, nor should the ancient
decrees of the holy fathers be upset because we do not think that a few
men, presuming on the possession of other virtues, are to be blamed even in
regard of those things which they have practised not in accordance with the
Catholic rule. For the opinion of a few ought not to be preferred to or to
interfere with the general rule for all. For we ought to give unhesitating
allegiance and unquestioning obedience, not to those customs and rules
which the will of a few have introduced, but to those which a long standing
antiquity and numbers of the holy fathers have passed on by an unanimous
decision to those that come after. Nor, indeed, ought this to influence us
as a precedent for our daily life, that Joram, the wicked king of Israel,
when surrounded by bands of his foes, rent his clothes, and is said to have
had sackcloth inside them;(3) or that the Ninevites, in order to mitigate
the sentence of God, which had been pronounced against them by the prophet,
were clothed in rough sackcloth.(4) The former is shown to have been
clothed with it secretly underneath, so that unless the upper garment had
been rent it could not possibly have been known by any one, and the latter
tolerated a covering of sackcloth at a time when, since all were mourning
over the approaching destruction of the city and were clothed with the same
garments, none could be accused of ostentation. For where there is no
special difference and all are alike no harm is done.(5)

CHAPTER III: Of the Hoods of the Egyptians.

   THERE are some things besides in the dress of the Egyptians which
concern not the care of the body so much as the regulation of the
character, that the observance of simplicity and innocence may be preserved
by the very character of the clothing. For they constantly use both by day
and by night very small hoods coming down to the end of the neck and
shoulders, which only cover the head, in order that they may constantly be
moved to preserve the simplicity and innocence of little children by
imitating their actual dress.(6) And these men have returned to childhood
in Christ and sing at all hours with heart and soul: "Lord, my heart is not
exalted nor are mine eyes lofty. Neither have I walked in great matters nor
in wonderful things above me. If I was not humbly minded, but exalted my
soul: as a child that is weaned is towards his mother."(1)

CHAPTER IV: Of the Tunics of the Egyptians.

   THEY wear also linen tunics(2) which scarcely reach to the elbows, and
for the rest leave their hands bare, that the cutting off of the sleeves
may suggest that they have cut off all the deeds and works of this world,
and the garment of linen teach that they are dead to all earthly
conversation, and that hereby they may hear the Apostle saying day by day
to them: "Mortify your members which are upon the earth;" their very dress
also declaring this: "For ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in
God;" and again: "And I live, yet now not I but Christ liveth in me. To me
indeed the world is crucified, and I to the world."(3)

CHAPTER V: Of their Cords.(4)

   THEY also wear double scarves(5) woven of woollen yarn which the Greeks
call ana'laboi, but which we should name girdles(6) or strings,(7) or more
properly cords.(8) These falling down over the top of the neck and divided
on either side of the throat go round the folds (of the robe) at the
armpits and gather them up on either side, so that they can draw up and
tuck in close to the body the wide folds of the dress, and so with their
arms girt they are made active and ready for all kinds of work,
endeavouring with all their might to fulfil the Apostle's charge: "For
these hands have ministered not only to me but to those also who are with
me," "Neither have we eaten any man's bread for nought, but with labour and
toil working night and day that we should not be burdensome to any of you."
And: "If any will not work neither let him eat."(9)

CHAPTER VI: Of their Capes.(10)

   NEXT they cover their necks and shoulders with a narrow cape, aiming at
modesty of dress as well as cheapness and economy; and this is called in
our language as well as theirs mafors; and so they avoid both the expense
and the display of cloaks and great coats.

CHAPTER VII: Of the Sheepskin and the Goatskin.(11)

   THE last article of their dress is the goat-skin, which is called
melotes, or pera,(12) and a staff, which they carry in imitation of those
who foreshadowed the lines of the monastic life in the Old Testament, of
whom the Apostle says: "They wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins,
being in want, distressed, afflicted; of whom the world was not worthy;
wandering in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens, and in caves of the
earth."(13) And this garment of goatskin signifies that having destroyed
all wantonness of carnal passions they ought to continue in the utmost
sobriety of virtue, and that nothing of the wantonness or heat of youth, or
of their old lightmindedness, should remain in their bodies.

CHAPTER VIII: Of the Staff of the Egyptians.

   FOR Elisha, himself one of them, teaches that the same men used to
carry a staff; as he says to Gehazi, his servant, when sending him to raise
the woman's son to life: "Take my staff and run and go and place it on the
lad's face that he may live."(14) And the prophet would certainly not have
given it to him to take unless he had been in the habit of constantly
carrying it about in his hand. And the carrying of the staff spiritually
teaches that they ought never to walk unarmed among so many barking dogs of
faults and invisible beasts of spiritual wickedness (from which the blessed
David, in his longing to be free, says: "Deliver not, O Lord, to the beasts
the soul that trusteth in Thee"),(1) but when they attack them they ought
to beat them off with the sign of the cross and drive them far away; and
when they rage furiously against them they should annihilate them by the
constant recollection of the Lord's passion and by following the example of
His mortified life.

CHAPTER IX: Of their Shoes.

   But refusing shoes, as forbidden by the command of the gospel, if
bodily weakness or the morning cold in winter or the scorching heat of
midday compels them, they merely protect their feet with sandals,
explaining that by the use of them and the Lord's permission it is implied
that if, while we are still in this world we cannot be completely set free
from care and anxiety about the flesh, nor can we be altogether released
from it, we should at least provide for the wants of the body with as
little fuss and as slight an entanglement as possible: and as for the feet
of our soul which ought to be ready for our spiritual race and always
prepared for preaching the peace of the gospel (with which feet we run
after the odour of the ointments of Christ, and of which David says: "I ran
in thirst," and Jeremiah: "But I am not troubled, following Thee"),(2) we
ought not to suffer them to be entangled in the deadly cares of this world,
filling our thoughts with those things which concern not the supply of the
wants of nature, but unnecessary and harmful pleasures. And this we shall
thus fulfil if, as the Apostle advises, we "make not provision for the
flesh with its lusts."(3) But though lawfully enough they make use of these
sandals, as permitted by the Lord's command, yet they never suffer them to
remain on their feet when they approach to celebrate or to receive the holy
mysteries, as they think that they ought to observe in the letter that
which was said to Moses and to Joshua, the son of Nun: "Loose the latchet
of thy shoe: for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground."(4)

CHAPTER X: Of the modification in the observances which may be permitted in
accordance with the character of the climate or the custom of the district.

   So much may be said, that we may not appear to have left out any
article of the dress of the Egyptians. But we need only keep to those which
the situation of the place and the customs of the district permit. For the
severity of the winter does not allow us to be satisfied with slippers(6)
or tunics or a single frock; and the covering of tiny hoods or the wearing
of a sheepskin would afford a subject for derision instead of edifying the
spectators. Wherefore we hold that we ought to introduce only those things
which we have described above, and which are adapted to the humble
character of our profession and the nature of the climate, that the chief
thing about our dress maybe not the novelty of the garb, which might give
some offence to men of the world, but its honourable simplicity.

CHAPTER XI: Of the Spiritual Girdle and its Mystical Meaning.(7)

   CLAD, therefore, in these vestments, the soldier of Christ should know
first of all that he is protected by the girdle tied round him, not only
that he may be ready in mind for all the work and business of the
monastery, but also that he may always go without being hindered by his
dress. For he will be proved to be the more ardent in purity of heart for
spiritual progress and the knowledge of Divine things in proportion as he
is the more earnest in his zeal for obedience and work. Secondly, he should
realize that in the actual wearing of the girdle there is no small mystery
declaring what is demanded of him. For the girding of the loins and binding
them round with a dead skin signifies that he bears about the mortification
of those members in which are contained the seeds of lust and
lasciviousness, always knowing that the command of the gospel, which says,
"Let your loins be girt about, "(8) is applied to him by the Apostle's
interpretation; to wit, "Mortify your members which are upon the earth;
fornication, uncleanness, lust, evil concupiscence."(9)And so we find in
Holy Scripture that only those were girt with the girdle in whom the seeds
of carnal lust are found to be destroyed, and who sing with might and main
this utterance of the blessed David: "For I am become like a bottle in the
frost,"(1) because when the sinful flesh is destroyed in the inmost parts
they can distend by the power of the spirit the dead skin of the outward
man. And therefore he significantly adds "in the frost," because they are
never satisfied merely with the mortification of the heart, but also have
the motions of the outward man and the incentives of nature itself frozen
by the approach of the frost of continence from without, if only, as the
Apostle says, they no longer allow any reign of sin in their mortal body,
nor wear a flesh that resists the spirit."(2)

BOOK II.

OF THE CANONICAL SYSTEM OF THE NOCTURNAL PRAYERS AND PSALMS.

CHAPTER I: Of the Canonical System of the Nocturnal Prayers and Psalms.

   Girt, therefore, with this twofold girdle of which we have spoken,(3)
the soldier of Christ should next learn the system of the canonical prayers
and Psalms which was long ago arranged by the holy fathers in the East. Of
their character, however, and of the way in which we can pray, as the
Apostle directs, "without ceasing,"(4) we shall treat, as the Lord may
enable us, in the proper place, when we begin to relate the Conferences of
the Elders.

CHAPTER II: Of the difference of the number of Psalms appointed to be sung
in all the provinces.

     For we have found that many in different countries, according to the
fancy of their mind (having, indeed, as the Apostle says, "a zeal, for God
but not according to Knowledge"(5), have made for themselves different
rules and arrangements in this matter. For some have appointed that each
night twenty or thirty Psalms should be said, and that these should be
prolonged by the music of antiphonal singing, and by the addition of some
modulations as well. Others have even tried to go beyond this number. Some
use eighteen. And in this way we have found different rules appointed in
different places, and the system and regulations that we have seen are
almost as many in number as the monasteries and cells which we have
visited. There are some, too, to whom it has seemed good that in the day
offices of prayer, viz., Tierce, Sext, and Nones,(7) the number of Psalms
and prayers should be made to correspond exactly to the number of the hours
at which the services are offered up to the Lord.(8) Some have thought fit
that six Psalms should be assigned to each service of the day. And so I
think it best to set forth the most ancient system of the fathers which is
still observed by the servants of God throughout the whole of Egypt, so
that your new monastery in its untrained infancy in Christ(9) may be
instructed in the most ancient institutions of the earliest fathers.

CHAPTER III: Of the observance of one uniform rule throughout the whole of
Egypt, and of the election of those who are set over the brethren.

   And so throughout the whole of Egypt and the Thebaid, where monasteries
are not rounded at the fancy of every man who renounces the world, but
through a succession of fathers and their traditions last even to the
present day, or are rounded so to last, in these we have noticed that a
prescribed system of prayers is observed in their evening assemblies and
nocturnal vigils. For no one is allowed to preside over the assembly of the
brethren, or even over himself, before he has not only deprived himself of
all his property but has also learnt the fact that he is not his own maker
and has no authority over his own actions. For one who renounces the world,
whatever property or riches he may possess, must seek the common dwelling
of a Coenobium, that he may not flatter himself in any way with what he has
forsaken or what he has brought into the monastery. He must also be
obedient to all, so as to learn that he must, as the Lord says,(1) become
again a little child, arrogating nothing to himself on the score of his age
and the number of the years which he now counts as lost while they were
spent to no purpose in the world and, as he is only a beginner, and because
of the novelty of the apprenticeship, which he knows he is serving in
Christ's service, he should not hesitate to submit himself even to his
juniors. Further, he is obliged to habituate himself to work and toil, so
as to prepare with his own hands; in accordance with the Apostle's
command,(2) daily supply of food, either for his own use or for the wants
of strangers; and that he may also forget the pride and luxury of his past
life, and gain by grinding toil humility of heart. And so no one is chosen
to be set over a congregation of brethren before that he who is to be
placed in authority has learnt by obedience what he ought to enjoin on
those who are to submit to him, and has discovered from the rules of the
Elders what he ought to teach to his juniors. For they. say that to rule or
to be ruled well needs a wise man, and they call it the greatest gift and
grace of the Holy Spirit, since no one can enjoin salutary precepts on
those who submit to him but one who has previously been trained in all the
rules of virtue; nor can any one obey an EIder but one who has been filled
with the love of God and perfected in the virtue of humility. And so we see
that there is a variety of rules and regulations in use throughout other
districts, because we often have the audacity to preside over a monastery
without even having learnt the system of the Elders, and appoint ourselves
Abbots before we have, as we ought, professed ourselves disciples, and are
readier to require the observance of our own inventions than to preserve
the well-tried teaching of our predecessors. But, while we meant to explain
the best system of prayers to be observed, we have in our eagerness for the
institutions of the fathers anticipated by a hasty digression the account
which we were keeping back for its proper place. And so let us now return
to the subject before us.

CHAPTER IV: How throughout the whole of Egypt and the Thebaid the number of
Psalms is fixed at twelve.

So, as we said, throughout the whole of Egypt and the Thebaid the number of
Psalms is fixed at twelve both at Vespers and in the office of Nocturns,(3)
in such a way that at the close two lessons follow, one from the Old and
the other from the New Testament.(4) And this arrangement, fixed ever so
long ago, has continued unbroken to the present day throughout so many
ages, in all the monasteries of those districts, because it is said that it
was no appointment of man's invention, but was brought down from heaven to
the fathers by the ministry of an angel.

CHAPTER V: How the fact that the number of the Psalms was to be twelve was
received from the teaching of an angel.

   For in the early days of the faith when only a few, and those the best
of men, were known by the name of monks, who, as they received that mode of
life from the Evangelist Mark of blessed memory, the first to preside over
the Church of Alexandria as Bishop, not only preserved those grand
characteristics for which we read, in the Acts of the Apostles, that the
Church and multitude of believers in primitive times was famous ("The
multitude of believers had one heart and one soul. Nor did any of them say
that any of the things which he possessed was his own: but they had all
things common; for as many as were owners of lands or houses sold them, and
brought the price of the things which they sold, and laid it at the feet of
the Apostles, and distribution was made to every man as he had need"),(5)
but they added to these characteristics others still more sublime. For
withdrawing into more secluded spots outside the cities they led a life
marked by such rigorous abstinence that even to those of another creed the
exalted character of their life was a standing marvel. For they gave
themselves up to the reading of Holy Scripture and to prayers and to manual
labour night and day with such fervour that they had no desire or thoughts
of food--unless on the second or third day bodily hunger  reminded them,
and they took their meat and drink not so much because they wished for it
as because it was necessary for life; and even then they took it not before
sunset, in order that they might connect the hours of daylight with the
practice of spiritual meditations, and the care of the body with the night,
and might perform other things much more exalted than these. And about
these matters, one who has never heard anything from one who is at home in
such things, may learn from ecclesiastical history.(2) At that time,
therefore, when the perfection of the primitive Church remained unbroken,
and was still preserved fresh in the memory by their followers and
successors, and when the fervent faith of the few had not yet grown
lukewarm by being dispersed among the many, the venerable fathers with
watchful care made provision for those to come after them, and met together
to discuss what plan should be adopted for the daily worship throughout the
whole body of the brethren; that they might hand on to those who should
succeed them a legacy of piety and peace that was free from all dispute and
dissension, for they were afraid that in regard of the daily services some
difference or dispute might arise among those who joined together in the
same worship, and at some time or other it might send forth a poisonous
root of error or jealousy or schism among those who came after. And when
each man m proportion to his own fervour--and unmindful of the weakness of
others-- thought that that  should be appointed which he judged was quite
easy by considering his own faith and strength, taking too little account
of what would be possible for the great mass of the brethren in general
(wherein a very large proportion of weak ones is sure to be found); and
when in different degrees they strove, each according to his own powers, to
fix an enormous number of Psalms, and some were for fifty, others sixty,
and some, not content with this number, thought that they actually ought to
go beyond it,--there was such a holy difference of opinion in their pious
discussion on the rule of their religion that the time for their Vesper
office came before the sacred question was decided; and, as they were going
to celebrate their daily rites and prayers, one rose up in the midst to
chant the Psalms to the Lord. And while they were all sitting (as is still
the custom in Egypt(3)), with their minds intently fixed on the words of
the chanter, when he had sung eleven Psalms, separated by prayers
introduced between them, verse after verse being evenly enunciated,(4) he
finished the twelfth with a response of Alleluia,(5) and then, by his
sudden disappearance from the eyes of all, put an end at once to their
discussion and their service.(6)

CHAPTER VI: Of the Custom of having Twelve Prayers.

   Whereupon the venerable assembly of the Fathers understood that by
Divine Providence a general rule had been fixed for the congregations of
the brethren through the angel's direction, and so decreed that this number
should be preserved both in their evening and in their nocturnal services;
and when they added to these two lessons, one from the Old and one from the
New Testament, they added them simply as extras and of their own
appointment, only for those who liked, and who were eager to gain by
constant study a mind well stored with Holy Scripture. But on Saturday and
Sunday they read them both from the New Testament; viz., one from the
Epistles(7) or the Acts of the Apostles, and one from the Gospel.(8) And
this also those do whose concern is the reading and the recollection of the
Scriptures, from Easter to Whitsuntide.(9)

CHAPTER VII: Of their Method of Praying.

   These aforesaid prayers, then, they begin and finish in such a way that
when the Psalm is ended they do not hurry at once to kneel down, as some of
us do in this country, who, before the Psalm is fairly ended, make haste to
prostrate themselves for prayer, in their hurry to finish the service(1) as
quickly as possible. For though we have chosen to exceed the limit which
was anciently fixed by our predecessors, supplying the number of the
remaining Psalms, we are anxious to get to the end of the service, thinking
of the refreshment of the wearied body rather than looking for profit and
benefit from the prayer. Among them, therefore, it is not so, but before
they bend their knees they pray for a few moments, and while they are
standing up spend the greater part of the time in prayer. And so after
this, for the briefest space of time, they prostrate themselves to the
ground, as if but adoring the Divine Mercy, and as soon as possible rise
up, and again standing erect with outspread hands--just as they had been
standing to pray before--remain with thoughts intent upon their prayers.
For when you lie prostrate for any length of time upon the ground you are
more open to an attack, they say, not only of wandering thoughts but also
slumber. And would that we too did not know the truth of this by experience
and daily practice--we who when prostrating ourselves on the ground too
often wish for this attitude to be prolonged for some time, not for the
sake of our prayer so much as for the sake of resting. But when he who is
to "collect" the prayer(2) rises from the ground they all start up at once,
so that no one would venture to bend the knee before he bows down, nor to
delay when he has risen from the ground, lest it should be thought that he
has offered his own prayer independently instead of following the leader to
the close.

CHAPTER VIII: Of the Prayer which follows the Psalm.

   That practice too which we have observed in this country--viz., that
while one sings. to the end of the Psalm, all standing up sing together
with a loud voice, "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy
Ghost" --we have never heard anywhere throughout the East, but there, while
all keep silence when the Psalm is finished, the prayer that follows is
offered up by the singer. But with this hymn in honour of the Trinity only
the whole Psalmody(3) is usually ended.(4)

CHAPTER IX: Of the characteristics of the prayer, the fuller treatment of
which is reserved for the Conferences of the EIders.

   And as the plan of these Institutes leads us to the system of the
canonical prayers, the fuller treatment of which we will however reserve
for the Conferences of the Elders (where we shall speak of them at greater
length when we have begun to tell in their own words of the character of
their prayers, and how continuous they are), still I think it well, as far
as the place and my narrative permit, as the occasion offers itself, to
glance briefly for the present at a few points, so that by picturing in the
meanwhile the movements of the outer man, and by now laying the
foundations, as it were, of the prayer, we may afterwards, when we come to
speak of the inner man, with less labour build up the complete edifice of
his prayers; providing, above all for this, that if the end of life should
overtake us and cut us off from finishing the narration which we are
anxious (D.V.) fitly to compose, we may at least leave in this work the
beginnings of  so necessary a matter to you, to whom everything seems a
delay, by reason of the fervour of your desire: so that, if a few more
years of life are granted to us, we may at least mark out for you some
outlines of their prayers, that those above all who live in monasteries may
have some information about them; providing also, at the same time, that
those who perhaps may meet only with this book, and be unable to procure
the other, may find that they are supplied with some sort of information
about the nature of their prayers; and as they are instructed about the
dress and clothing of the outer man, so too they may not be ignorant what
his behaviour ought to be in offering spiritual sacrifices. Since, though
these  books, which we are now arranging with the Lord's help to write, are
mainly taken up with what belongs to the outer man and the customs of the
Coenobia, yet those will rather be concerned with the training of the inner
man and the perfection of the heart, and the life and doctrine of the
Anchorites.

CHAPTER X: Of the silence and conciseness with which the Collects are
offered up by the Egyptians.

   When, then, they meet together to celebrate the aforementioned rites,
which they term synaxes,(1) they are all so perfectly silent that, though
so large a number of the brethren is assembled together, you would not
think a single person was present except the one who stands up and chants
the Psalm in the midst; and especially is this the case when the prayer is
offered up,(2) for then there is no spitting, no clearing of the throat, or
noise of coughing, no sleepy yawning with open mouths, and gaping, and no
groans or sighs are uttered, likely to distract those standing near. No
voice is beard save that of the priest concluding the prayer, except
perhaps one that escapes the lips through aberration of mind and
unconsciously takes the heart by surprise, inflamed as it is with an
uncontrollable and irrepressible fervour of spirit, while that which the
glowing mind is unable to keep to itself strives through a sort of
unutterable groaning to make its escape from the inmost chambers of the
breast. But if any one infected with coldness of mind prays out loud or
emits any of those sounds we have mentioned, or is overcome by a fit of
yawning, they declare that he is guilty of a double fault.

   He is blameworthy, first, as regards his own prayer because he offers
it to God in a careless way; and, secondly, because by his unmannerly
noise he disturbs the thoughts of another who  would otherwise perhaps have
been able to  pray with greater attention. And so their  rule is that the
prayer ought to be brought to an  end with a speedy conclusion, lest while
we are lingering over it some superfluity of spittle or phlegm should
interfere with the close of our  prayer. And, therefore, while it is still
glowing the prayer is to be snatched as speedily  as possible out of the
jaws of the enemy, who,  although he is indeed always hostile to us, is
yet never more hostile than when he sees that  we are anxious to offer up
prayers to God  against his attacks; and by exciting wandering thoughts and
all sorts of rheums he endeavours to distract our minds from attending to
our prayers, and by this means tries to make it grow cold, though begun
with fervour. Wherefore they think it best for the prayers to be short and
offered up very frequently:(3) on the one hand that by so often praying to
the Lord we may be able to cleave to Him continually; on the other, that
when the devil is lying in wait for us, we may by their terse brevity avoid
the darts with which he endeavours to wound us especially when we are
saying our prayers,

CHAPTER XI: Of the system according to which the Psalms are said among the
Egyptians.

   And, therefore, they do not even attempt to finish the Psalms, which
they sing in the service, by an unbroken and continuous recitation. But
they repeat them separately and bit by bit, divided into two or three
sections, according to the number of verses, with prayers in between.(4)
For they do not care about the quantity of verses, but about the
intelligence of the mind; aiming with all their might at this: "I will sing
with the spirit: I will sing also with the understanding."(5) And so they
consider it better for ten verses to be sung with understanding and
thought(6) than for a whole Psalm to be poured forth with a bewildered
mind. And this is sometimes caused by the hurry of the speaker, when,
thinking of the character and number of the remaining Psalms to be sung, he
takes no pains to make the meaning clear to his hearers, but hastens on to
get to the end of the service. Lastly, if any of the younger monks, either
through fervour of spirit or because he has not yet been properly taught,
goes beyond the proper limit of what is to be sung, the one who is singing
the Psalm is stopped by the senior clapping his hands where he sits in his
stall, and making them all rise for prayer. Thus they take every possible
care that no weariness may creep in among them as they sit through the
length of the Psalms, as thereby not only would the singer himself lose the
fruits of understanding, but also loss would be incurred by those whom he
made to feel the service a weariness by going on so long. They also observe
this with the greatest care; viz., that no Psalm should be said with the
response of Alleluia except those which are marked with the inscription of
Alleluia in their title.(1) But the aforesaid number of twelve Psalms they
divide in such a way that. if there are two brethren they each sing six; if
there are three, then four; and if four, three each. A smaller number than
this they never sing in the congregation, and accordingly, however large a
congregation is assembled, not more than four brethren sing in the
service.(2)

CHAPTER XII: Of the reason why while one sings the Psalms the rest sit down
during the service; and of the zeal with which they afterwards prolong
their vigils in their cells till daybreak.

   This canonical system of twelve Psalms, of which we have spoken, they
render easier by such bodily rest that when, after their custom, they
celebrate these services, they all, except the one who stands up in the
midst to recite the Psalms, sit in very low stalls and follow the voice of
the singer with the utmost attention of heart. For they are so worn out
with fasting and working all day and night that, unless they were. helped
by some such indulgence, they could not possibly get through this number
standing up. For they allow no time to pass idly without the performance of
some work, because not only do they strive with all earnestness to do with
their hands those things which can be done in daylight, but also with
anxious minds they examine into those sorts of work which not even the
darkness of night can put a stop to, as they hold that they will gain a far
deeper insight into subjects of spiritual contemplation With purity of
heart, the more earnestly that they devote themselves to work and labour.
And therefore they consider that a moderate allowance of canonical prayers
was divinely arranged in order that for those who are very ardent in faith
room might be left in which their never-tiring flow of virtue might spend
itself, and notwithstanding no loathing arise in their wearied and weak
bodies from too large a quantity. And so, when the offices of the canonical
prayers have been duly finished, every one returns to his own cell (which
he inhabits alone, or is allowed to share with only one other whom
partnership in work or training in discipleship and learning has joined
with him, or perhaps similarity of character has made his companion), and
again they offer with greater earnestness the same service of prayer, as
their special private sacrifice, as it were; nor do any of them give
themselves up any further to rest and sleep till when the brightness of day
comes on the labours of the day succeed the labours and meditations of the
night.

CHAPTER XIII: The reason why they are not allowed to go to sleep after the
night services

   And these labours they keep up for two reasons, besides this
consideration,--that they believe that when they are diligently exerting
themselves they are offering to God a sacrifice of the fruit of their
hands. And, if we are aiming at perfection; we also ought to observe this
with the same diligence. First, lest our envious adversary, jealous of our
purity against which he is always plotting, and ceaselessly hostile to us,
should by some illusion in a dream pollute the purity which has been gained
by the Psalms and prayers of the night: for after that satisfaction which
we have offered for our negligence and ignorance, and the absolution
implored with profuse sighs in our confession, he anxiously tries, if he
finds some time given to repose, to defile us; then above all endeavouring
to overthrow and weaken our trust in God when he sees by the purity of our
prayers that we are making most fervent efforts towards God: so that
sometimes, when he has been unable to injure some the whole night long, he
does his utmost to disgrace them in that short hour. Secondly, because,
even if no such dreaded illusion of the devil arises, even a pure sleep in
the interval produces laziness in the case of the monk who ought soon to
wake up; and, bringing on a sluggish torpor in the mind, it dulls his
vigour throughout the whole day, and deadens that keenness of perception
and exhausts that energy(1) of heart which would be capable of keeping us
all day long more watchful against all the snares of the enemy and more
robust. Wherefore to the Canonical Vigils them are added these private
watchings, and they submit to them with the greater care, both in order
that the purity which has been gained by Psalms and prayers may not be
lost, and also that a more intense carefulness to guard us diligently
through the day may be secured beforehand by the meditation of the night.

CHAPTER XIV: Of the way in which they devote themselves in their cells
equally to manual labour and to prayer.

   And therefore they supplement their prayer by the addition of labour,
lest slumber might steal upon them as idlers. For as they scarcely enjoy
any time of leisure, so there is no limit put to their spiritual
meditations. For practising equally the virtues of the body and of the
soul, they balance what is due to the outer by what is profitable to the
inner man(2) steadying the slippery motions of the heart and the shifting
fluctuations of the thoughts by the weight of labour, like some strong and
immoveable anchor, by which the changeableness and wanderings of the heart,
fastened within the barriers of the cell, may be shut up in some perfectly
secure harbour, and so, intent only on spiritual meditation and
watchfulness over the thoughts, may not only forbid the watchful mind to
give a hasty consent to any evil suggestions, but may also keep it safe
from any unnecessary and idle thoughts: so that it is not easy to say which
depends on the other--I mean, whether they practise their incessant manual
labour for the sake of spiritual meditation, or whether it is for the sake
of their continuous labours that they acquire such remarkable spiritual
proficiency and light of knowledge.

CHAPTER XV: Of the discreet rule by which every one must retire to his cell
after the close of the prayers; and(3) of the rebuke to which any one who
does otherwise is subject.

   And so, when the Psalms are finished, and the daily assembly, as we
said above, is broken up, none of them dares to loiter ever so little or to
gossip with another: nor does he presume even to leave his cell throughout
the whole day, or to forsake the work which he is wont to carry on in it,
except when they happen to be called out for the performance of some
necessary duty, which they fulfil by going out of doors so that there may
not be any chattering at all among them. But every one does the work
assigned to him in such a way that, by repeating by heart some Psalm or
passage of Scripture, he gives no opportunity or time for dangerous schemes
or evil designs, or even for idle talk, as both mouth and heart are
incessantly taken up with spiritual meditations. For they are most
particular in observing this rule, that none of them, and especially of the
younger ones, may be caught stopping even for a moment or going anywhere
together with another, or holding his hands in his. But, if they discover
any who in defiance of the discipline of this rule have perpetrated any of
these forbidden things, they pronounce them guilty of no slight fault, as
contumacious and disobedient to the rules; nor are they free from suspicion
of plotting and nefarious designs. And, unless they expiate their fault by
public penance when all the brethren are gathered together, none of them is
allowed to be present at the prayers of the brethren.

CHAPTER XVI: How no one is allowed to pray with one who has been suspended
from prayer.

   Further, if one of them has been suspended from prayer for some fault
which he has committed, no one has any liberty of praying with him before
he performs his penance on the ground,(4) and reconciliation and pardon for
his offence has been publicly granted to him by the Abbot before all the
brethren. For by a plan of this kind they separate and cut themselves off
from fellowship with him in prayer for this reason-- because they believe
that one who is suspended from prayer is, as the Apostle says, "delivered
unto Satan:"(5) and if any one, moved by an ill-considered affection, dares
to hold communion with him in prayer before he has been received by the
Elder, he makes himself partaker of his damnation, and delivers himself up
of his own free will to Satan, to whom the other had been consigned for the
correction of his guilt. And in this he falls into a more grievous offence
because, by uniting with him in fellowship either in talk or in prayer, he
gives him grounds for still greater arrogance, and only encourages and
makes worse the obstinacy of the offender. For, by giving him a consolation
that is only hurtful, he will make his heart still harder, and not let him
humble himself for the fault for which he was excommunicated; and through
this he will make him hold the Elder's rebuke as of no consequence, and
harbour deceitful thoughts about satisfaction and absolution.

CHAPTER XVII: How he who rouses them for prayer ought to call them at the
usual time.

   But he who has been entrusted with the office of summoning the
religious assembly and with the care of the service should not presume to
rouse the brethren for their daily vigils irregularly, as he pleases, or as
he may wake up in the night, or as the accident of his own sleep or
sleeplessness may incline him. But, although daily habit may constrain him
to wake at the usual hour, yet by often and anxiously ascertaining by the
course of the stars the right hour for service, he should summon them to
the office of prayer, lest he be found careless in one of two ways: either
if, overcome with sleep, he lets the proper hour of the night go by, or if,
wanting to go to bed and impatient for his sleep, he anticipates it, and so
may be thought to have secured is own repose instead of attending to the
spiritual office and the rest of all the others.(1)

CHAPTER XVIII: How they do not kneel from the evening of Saturday till the
evening of Sunday.

   This, too, we ought to know,--that from the evening of Saturday which
precedes the Sunday,(2) up to the following evening, among the Egyptians
they never kneel, nor from Easter to Whitsuntide;(3) nor do they at these
times observe a rule of fasting,(4) the reason for which shall be Explained
in its proper place in the Conferences of the Elders,(5) if the Lord
permits. At present we only propose to run through the causes very briefly,
lest our book exceed its due limits and prove tiresome or burdensome to the
reader.

BOOK III.

OF THE CANONICAL SYSTEM OF THE DAILY PRAYERS AND PSALMS.

CHAPTER I: Of the services of the third, sixth, and ninth hours, which are
observed in the regions of Syria.

   The nocturnal system of prayers and Psalms as observed throughout Egypt
has been, I think, by God's help, explained so far as our slender ability
was able; and now we must speak of the services of Tierce, Sext, and None,
according to the rule of the monasteries of Palestine and Mesopotamia,(6)
as we said in the Preface, and must moderate by the customs of these the
perfection and inimitable rigour of the discipline of the Egyptians.

CHAPTER II: How among the Egyptians they apply themselves all day long to
prayer and Psalm continually, with the addition of work, without
distinction of hours.

   For among them (viz., the Egyptians) these offices which we are taught
to render to the Lord at separate hours and at intervals of time, with a
reminder from the converter, are celebrated continuously throughout the
whole day, with the addition of work, and that of their own free will. For
manual labour is incessantly practised by them in their cells in such a way
that meditation on the Psalms and the rest of the Scriptures is never
entirely omitted. And as with it at every moment they mingle suffrages and
prayers, they spend the whole day in those offices which we celebrate at
fixed times. Wherefore, except Vespers and Nocturns, there are no public
services among them in the day except on Saturday and Sunday, when they
meet together at the third hour (or the purpose of Holy Communion.(1) For
that which is continuously offered is more than what is rendered at
intervals of time; and more acceptable as a free gift than the duties which
are performed by the compulsion of a rule: as David for this rejoices
somewhat exultingly when he says, "Freely will I sacrifice unto Thee;" and,
"Let the free will offerings of my mouth be pleasing to Thee, O Lord."(2)

CHAPTER III: How throughout all the East the services of Tierce, Sext, and
None are ended with only three Psalms and prayers each; and the reason why
these spiritual offices are assigned more particularly to those hours.

   And so in the monasteries of Palestine and Mesopotamia and all the East
the services of the above-mentioned hours are ended each day with three
Psalms apiece, so that constant prayers may be offered to God at the
appointed times, and yet, the spiritual duties being completed with due
moderation, the necessary offices of work may not be in any way interfered
with: for at these three seasons we know that Daniel the prophet also
poured forth his prayers to God day by day in his chamber with the windows
open.(3) Nor is it without good reasons that these times are more
particularly assigned to religious offices, since at them what completed
the promises and summed up our salvation was fulfilled. For we can show
that at the third hour the Holy Spirit, who had been of old promised by the
prophets, descended in the first instance on the Apostles assembled
together for prayer. For when in their astonishment at the speaking with
tongues, which proceeded from them through  the outpouring of the Holy
Ghost upon them, the unbelieving people of the Jews mocked and said that
they were full of new wine, then Peter, standing up in the midst of them,
said: "Men of Israel, and all ye who dwell at Jerusalem, let this be known
unto you, and consider my words. For these men are not, as ye imagine,
drunk, since it is the third hour of the day; but this is that which was
spoken by the prophet Joel: and it shall come to pass in the last days,
saith the Lord, I will pour out of my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons
and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions and
your old men shall dream dreams. And indeed upon my servants and my
handmaids in those days I will pour out of my Spirit, and they shall
prophesy."(4) And all of this was fulfilled at the third hour, when the
Holy Spirit, announced before by the prophets, came at that hour and abode
upon the Apostles. But at the sixth hour the spotless Sacrifice, our Lord
and Saviour, was offered up to the Father, and, ascending the cross for the
salvation of the whole world, made atonement for the sins of mankind, and,
despoiling principalities and powers, led them away openly; and all of us
who were liable to death and bound by the debt of the handwriting that
could not be paid, He freed, by taking it away out of the midst and
affixing it to His cross for a trophy,(5) At the same hour, too, to Peter,
in an ecstasy of mind, there was divinely revealed both the calling of the
Gentiles by the letting down of the Gospel vessel from heaven, and also the
cleansing of all the living creatures contained in it, when a voice came to
him and said to him: "Rise, Peter; kill and eat; "(6) which vessel, let
down from heaven by the four corners, is plainly seen to signify nothing
else than the Gospel. For although, as it is divided by the fourfold
narrative of the Evangelists, it seems to have "four corners" (or
beginnings), yet the body of the Gospel is but one; embracing, as it does,
the birth as well as the Godhead, and the miracles as well as the passion
of one and the same Christ. Excellently, too, it says not "of linen" but
"as if of linen." For linen signifies death. Since, then, our Lord's death
and passion were not undergone by the law of human nature, but of His own
free will, it says "as if of linen." For when dead according to the  flesh
He was not dead according to the spirit, because "His soul was not left in
hell, neither did His flesh see corruption."(1) And again He says: "No man
taketh My life from Me but I lay it down of Myself. I have power to lay it
down, and I have power to take it again."(2) And so in this vessel of the
Gospels let down from heaven, that is written by the Holy Ghost, all the
nations which were formerly outside the observance of the law and reckoned
as unclean now flow together through belief in the faith that they may to
their salvation be turned away from the worship of idols and be serviceable
for health-giving food, and are brought to Peter and cleansed by the voice
of the Lord. But at the ninth hour, penetrating to hades, He there by the
brightness of His splendour extinguished the indescribable darkness of
hell, and, bursting its brazen gates and breaking the iron bars brought
away with Him to the skies the captive band of saints which was there shut
up and detained in the darkness of inexorable hell,(3) and, by taking away
the fiery sword, restored to paradise its original inhabitants by his pious
confession. At the same hour, too, Cornelius, the centurion, continuing
with his customary devotion in his prayers, is made aware through the
converse of the angel with him that his prayers and alms are remembered
before the Lord, and at the ninth hour the mystery(4) of the calling of the
Gentiles is clearly shown to him, which had been revealed to Peter in his
ecstasy of mind at the sixth hour. In another passage, too, in the Acts of
the Apostles, we are told as follows about the same time: "But Peter and
John went up into the temple at the hour of prayer, the ninth hour."(5) And
by these notices it is clearly proved that these hours were not without
good reason consecrated with religious services by holy and apostolic men,
and ought to be observed in like manner by us, who, unless we are
compelled, as it were, by some rule to discharge these pious offices at
least at stated times,  either through sloth or through forgetfulness,  or
being absorbed in business, spend the whole  day without engaging in
prayer. But concerning the evening sacrifices what is to be said,  since
even in the Old Testament these are ordered to be offered continually by
the law of Moses? For that the morning whole-burnt offerings and evening
sacrifices were offered every day continually in the temple, although with
figurative offerings, we can show from that which is sung by David: "Let my
prayer be set forth in Thy sight as the incense, and let the lifting up of
my hands be an evening sacrifice,"(6) in which place we can understand it
in a still higher sense of that true evening sacrifice which was given by
the Lord our Saviour in the evening to the Apostles at the Supper, when He
instituted the holy mysteries of the Church, and of that evening sacrifice
which He Himself, on the following day, in the end of the ages, offered up
to the Father by the lifting up of His hands for the salvation of the whole
world; which spreading forth of His hands on the Cross is quite correctly
called a "lifting up." For when we were all lying in hades He raised us to
heaven, according to the word of His own promise when He says: "When I am
lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men unto Me."(7) But concerning
Martins, that also teaches us which it is customary every day to sing at
it: "O God, my God, to Thee do I watch at break of day;" and "I will
meditate on Thee in the morning;" and " I prevented the dawning of the day
and cried;" and again, " Mine eyes to Thee have prevented the morning, that
I might meditate on Thy words."(8) At these hours too that householder in
the Gospel hired labourers into his vineyard. For thus also is he described
as having hired them in the early morning, which time denotes the Mattin
office; then at the third hour; then at the sixth; after this, at the
ninth; and last of all, at the eleventh,(9) by which the hour of the
lamps(10) is denoted.(11)

CHAPTER IV: How the Mattin office was not appointed by an ancient tradition
but was started in our own day for a definite reason.

   But you must know that this Mattins, which is now very generally
observed in Western countries, was appointed as a canonical office in our
own day, and also in our own monastery, where our Lord Jesus Christ was
born of a Virgin and deigned to submit to growth in infancy as man, and
where by His Grace He supported our own infancy, still tender in religion,
and, as it were, fed with milk.(1) For up till that time we find that when
this office of Mattins (which is generally celebrated after a short
interval after the Psalms and prayers of Nocturns in the monasteries of
Gaul) was finished, together with the daily vigils, the remaining hours
were assigned by our Elders to bodily refreshment. But when some rather
carelessly abused this indulgence and prolonged their time for sleep too
long, as they were not obliged by the requirements of any service to leave
their cells or rise from their beds till the third hour; and when, as well
as losing their labour, they were drowsy from excess of sleep in the
daytime, when they ought to have been applying themselves to some duties,
(especially on those days when an unusually oppressive weariness was caused
by their keeping watch from the evening till the approach of morning), a
complaint was brought to the Elders by some of the brethren who were ardent
in spirit and in no slight measure disturbed by this carelessness, and it
was determined by them after long discussion and anxious consideration that
up till sunrise, when they could without harm be ready to read or to
undertake manual labour, time for rest should be given to their wearied
bodies, and after this they should all be summoned to the observance of
this service and should rise from their beds, and by reciting three Psalms
and  prayers (after the order anciently fixed for the  observance of Tierce
and Sext, to signify the confession of the Trinity)(2) should at the same
time by an uniform arrangement put an end to their sleep and make a
beginning to their work. And this form, although it may seem to have arisen
out of an accident and to have been appointed within recent memory for the
reason given above, yet it clearly makes up according to the letter that
number which the blessed David indicates (although it can be taken
spiritually): "Seven times a day do I praise Thee because of Thy righteous
judgments."(3) For by the addition of this service we certainly hold these
spiritual assemblies  seven times a day, and are shown to sing praises to
God seven times in it.(4) Lastly, though this same form, starting from the
East, has most beneficially spread to these parts, yet still in some long-
established monasteries In the East, which will not brook the slightest
violation of the old rules of the Fathers, it seems never to have been
introduced.(5)

CHAPTER V: How they ought not to go back to bed again after the Mattin
prayers.

   But some in this province, not knowing the reason why this office was
appointed and introduced, go back again to bed after their Mattin prayers
are finished, and in spite of it fall into that very habit to check which
our Elders instituted this service. For they are eager to finish it at that
hour, that an opportunity maybe given, to those who are inclined to be
indifferent and not careful enough, to go back to bed again, which most
certainly ought not to be done (as we showed more fully in the previous
book when describing the service of the Egyptians),(6) for fear least the
force of our natural passions should be aroused and stain that purity of
ours which was gained by humble confession and prayers before the dawn, or
some illusion of the enemy pollute us, or even the repose of a pure and
natural sleep interfere with the fervour of our spirit and make us lazy and
slothful throughout the whole day, as we are chilled by the sluggishness
caused by sleep. And to avoid this the Egyptians, and especially as they
are in the habit of rising at fixed times even before the cock-crow, when
the canonical office(1) has been celebrated, afterwards prolong their
vigils even to daylight, that the morning light when it comes on them may
find them established in fervour of spirit, and keep them still more
careful and fervent all through the day, as it has found them prepared for
the conflict and strengthened against their daily struggle with the devil
by the practice of nocturnal vigils and spiritual meditation.

CHAPTER VI: How no change was made by the Elders in the ancient system of
Psalms when the Martin office was instituted.

   But this too we ought to know, viz., that no change was made in the
ancient arrangement of Psalms by our Elders who decided that this Mattin
service should be added;(2) but that office(3) was always celebrated in
their nocturnal assemblies according to the same order as it had been
before. For the hymns which in this country they used at the Mattin service
at the close of the nocturnal vigils, which they are accustomed to finish
after the cock-crowing and before dawn, these they still sing in like
manner; viz., Ps. 148, beginning "0 praise the Lord from heaven," and the
rest which follow; but the 50th Psalm and the 62nd, and the 89th have, we
know, been assigned to this new service. Lastly, throughout Italy at this
day, when the Mattin hymns are ended, the 50th Psalm is sung in all the
churches, which I have no doubt can only have been derived from this
source.

CHAPTER VII: How one who does not come to the daily prayer before the end
of the first Psalm is not allowed to enter the Oratory; but at Nocturns a
late arrival up to the end of the second Psalm can be overlooked.

   But one who at Tierce, Sext, or None has not come to prayer before the
Psalm is begun and finished does not venture further to enter the Oratory
nor to join himself to those singing the Psalms; but, standing outside, he
awaits the breaking-up of the congregation,(4) and while they are all
coming out does penance lying on the ground, and obtains absolution for his
carelessness and lateness, knowing that he can in no other way expiate the
fault of his sloth, nor can ever be admitted to the service which will
follow three hours later, unless he has been quick to make satisfaction at
once for his present negligence by the help of true humility. But in the
nocturnal assemblies a late arrival up to the second Psalm is allowed,
provided that before the Psalm is finished and the brethren bow down in
prayer he makes haste to take his place in the congregation and join them;
but he will most certainly be subjected to the same blame and penance which
we mentioned before if he has delayed ever so little beyond the hour
permitted for a late arrival.(5)

CHAPTER VIII: Of the Vigil service which is celebrated on the evening
preceding the Sabbath; of its length, and the manner in which it is
observed.

   In the winter time, however, when the nights are longer, the Vigils,(6)
which are celebrated every week on the evening at the commencing the
Sabbath, are arranged by the elders in the monasteries to last till the
fourth cock-crowing, for this reason, viz., that after the watch through
the whole night they may, by resting their bodies for the remaining time of
nearly two hours, avoid flagging through drowsiness the whole day long, and
be content with repose for this short time instead of resting the whole
night. And it is proper for us, too, to observe this with the utmost care,
that we may be content with the sleep which is allowed us after the office
of Vigils up to daybreak,--i.e., till the Mattin Psalms,(1)--and afterwards
spend the whole day in work and necessary duties, lest through weariness
from the Vigils, and feebleness, we might be forced to take by day the
sleep which we cut off from the night, and so be thought not to have cut
short our bodily rest so much as to have changed our time for repose and
nightly retirement. For our feeble flesh could not possibly be defrauded of
the whole night's rest and yet keep its vigour unshaken throughout the
following day without sleepiness of mind and heaviness of spirit, as it
will be hindered rather than helped by this unless after Vigils are over it
enjoys a short slumber. And, therefore, if, as we have suggested, at least
an hour's sleep is snatched before daybreak, we shall save all the hours of
Vigils which we have spent all through the night in prayer, granting to
nature what is due to it, and having no necessity of taking back by day
what we have cut off from the night. For a man will certainly have to give
up everything to this flesh if he tries, not in a rational manner to
withhold a part only, but to refuse the whole, and (to speak candidly) is
anxious to cut off not what is superfluous but what is necessary. Wherefore
Vigils have to be made up for with greater interest if they are prolonged
with ill- considered and unreasonable length till daybreak. And so they
divide them into an office in three parts, that by this variety the effort
may be distributed and the exhaustion of the body relieved by some
agreeable relaxation. For when standing they have sung three Psalms
antiphonally,(2) after this, sitting on the ground or in very low stalls,
one of them repeats three Psalms, while the rest respond, each Psalm being
assigned to one of the brethren, who succeed each other in turn; and to
these they add three lessons while still sitting quietly. And so, by
lessening their bodily exertion, they manage to observe their Vigils with
greater attention of mind.(3)

CHAPTER IX: The reason why a Vigil is appointed as the Sabbath day dawns,
and why a dispensation from fasting is enjoyed on the Sabbath all through
the East.

   And throughout the whole of the East it has been settled, ever since
the time of the preaching of the Apostles, when the Christian faith and
religion was rounded, that these Vigils should be celebrated as the Sabbath
dawns,(4) for this reason,--because, when our Lord and Saviour had been
crucified on the sixth day of the week, the disciples, overwhelmed by the
freshness of His sufferings, remained watching throughout the whole night,
giving no rest or sleep to their eyes. Wherefore, since that time, a
service of Vigils has been appointed for this night, and is still observed
in the same way up to the present day all through the East. And so, after
the exertion of the Vigil, a dispensation from fasting, appointed in like
manner for the Sabbath by apostolic men,(5) is not without reason enjoined
in all the churches of the East, in accordance with that saying of
Ecclesiastes, which, although it has another and a mystical sense, is not
misapplied to this, by which we are charged to give to both days-- that is,
to the seventh and eighth equally--the same share of the service, as it
says: "Give  a portion to these seven and also to these eight."(6) For this
dispensation from fasting must not be understood as a participation in the
Jewish festival by those above all who are shown to be free from all Jewish
superstition, but as contributing to that rest of the wearied body of which
we have spoken; which, as it fasts continually for five days in the week
all through the year, would easily be worn out and fail, unless it were
revived by an interval of at least two days.

CHAPTER X: How it was brought about that they fast on the Sabbath in the
city.

   But some people in some countries of the West, and especially in the
city,(1) not knowing the reason of this indulgence, think that a
dispensation from fasting ought certainly not to be allowed On the Sabbath,
because they say that on this day the Apostle Peter fasted before his
encounter with Simon.(2) But from this it is quite clear that he did this
not in  accordance with a canonical rule, but rather through the needs of
his impending struggle. Since there, too, for the same purpose, Peter seems
to have imposed on his disciples not a general but a special fast, which he
certainly would not have done if he had known that it was wont to be
observed by canonical rule: just as he would surely have been ready to
appoint it even on Sunday, if the occasion of his struggle had fallen upon
it: but no canonical rule of fasting would have been made general from
this, because it was no general observance that led to it, but a matter of
necessity, which forced it to be observed on a single occasion.

CHAPTER XI: Of the points in which the service held on Sunday differs from
what is customary on other days.

   But we ought to know this, too, that on Sunday only one office(3) is
celebrated before dinner, at which, out of regard for the actual service(4)
and the Lord's communion, they use a more solemn and a longer service of
Psalms and prayers and lessons, and so consider that Tierce and Sext are
included in it. And hence it results that, owing to the addition of the
lessons, there is no diminution of the amount of their devotions, and yet
some difference is made, and an indulgence over other times seems to be
granted to the brethren out of reverence for the Lord's resurrection; and
this seems to lighten the observance all through the week, and, by reason
of the difference which is interposed, it makes the day to be looked
forward to more solemnly as a festival, and owing to the anticipation of it
the fasts of the coming week are less felt. For any weariness is always
borne with greater equanimity, and labour undertaken without aversion, if
some variety is interposed or change of work succeeds.

CHAPTER XII: Of the days on which, when supper is provided for the
brethren, a Psalm is not said as they assemble for the meals as is usual at
dinner.

   Lastly, also, on those days,--i.e., on Saturday and Sunday,--and on
holy days, on which it is usual for both dinner and supper to be provided
for the brethren, a Psalm is not said in the evening, either when they come
to supper or when they rise from it, as is usual at their ordinary
dinner(5) and the canonical refreshment on fast days, which the customary
Psalms usually precede and follow. But they simply make a plain prayer and
come to supper, and again, when they rise from it, conclude with prayer
alone; because this repast is something special among the monks: nor are
they all obliged to come to it, but it is only for strangers who have come
to see the brethren, and those whom bodily weakness or their own
inclination invites to it.

BOOK IV.

OF THE INSTITUTES OF THE RENUNCIANTS.

CHAPTER I: Of the training of those who renounce this world, and of the way
in which those are taught among the monks of Tabenna and the Egyptians who
are received into the monasteries,

   FROM the canonical system of Psalms and prayers which ought to be
observed in the daily services throughout the monasteries, we pass, in the
due course of our narrative, to the training. of one who renounces this
world endeavouring first, as well as we can, to embrace, in a short
account, the terms on which those who desire to turn to the Lord can be
received in the monasteries; adding some things from the rule of the
Egyptians, some from that of the monks of Tabenna,(1) whose monastery in
the Thebaid is better filled as regards numbers, as it is stricter in the
rigour of its system, than all others, for there are in it more than five
thousand brethren under the rule of one Abbot; and the obedience with which
the whole number of monks is at all times subject to one Elder is what no
one among us would render to another even for a short time, or would demand
from him.

CHAPTER II: Of the way in which among them men remain in the monasteries
evento extreme old age.

   And I think that before anything else we ought to touch on their
untiring perseverance and humility and subjection,-- how it lasts for so
long, and by what system it is formed, through which they remain in the
monasteries till they are bent double with old age; for it is so great that
we cannot recollect any one who joined our monasteries keeping it up
unbroken even for a year: so that when we have seen the beginning of their
renunciation of the world, we shall understand how it came about that,
starting from such a commencement, they reached such a height of
perfection.

CHAPTER III: Of the ordeal by which one who is to be received in the
monastery is tested.

   One, then, who seeks to be admitted to the discipline of the monastery
is never received before he gives, by lying outside the doors for ten days
or even longer, an evidence of his perseverance and desire, as well as of
humility and patience. And when, prostrate at the feet of all the brethren
that pass by, and of set purpose repelled and scorned by all of them, as if
he was wanting to enter the monastery not for the sake of religion but
because he was obliged; and when, too, covered with many insults and
affronts, he has given a practical proof of his steadfastness, and has
shown what he will be like in temptations by the way he has borne the
disgrace; and when, with the ardour of his soul thus ascertained, he is
admitted, then they enquire with the utmost care whether he is contaminated
by a single coin from his former possessions clinging to him. For they know
that he cannot stay for long under the discipline of the monastery, nor
ever learn the virtue of humility and obedience, nor be content with the
poverty and difficult life of the monastery, if he knows that ever so small
a sum of money has been kept hid; but, as soon as ever a disturbance arises
on some occasion or other, he will at once dart off from the monastery like
a stone from a sling, impelled to this by trusting in that sum of money.(2)

CHAPTER IV: The reason why those who are received in the monastery are not
allowed to bring anything in with them.

   Any for these reasons they do not agree to take from him money to be
used even for the good of the monastery: First, in case he may be puffed up
with arrogance, owing to this offering, and so not deign to put himself on
a level with the poorer brethren; and next, lest he fail through this pride
of his to stoop to the humility of Christ, and so, when he cannot hold out
under the discipline of the monastery, leave it, and afterwards, when he
has cooled down, want in a bad spirit to receive and get back--not without
loss to the monastery--what he had contributed in the early days of his
renunciation, when he was aglow with spiritual fervour. And that this rule
should always be kept they have been frequently taught by many instances.
For in some monasteries where they are not so careful some who have been
received unreservedly have afterwards tried most sacrilegiously to demand a
return of that which they had contributed and which had been spent on God's
work.

CHAPTER V: The reason why those who give up the world, when they are
received in the monasteries, must lay aside their own clothes and be
clothed in others by the Abbot.

   Wherefore each one on his admission is stripped of all his former
possessions, so that he is not allowed any longer to keep even the clothes
which he has on his back: but in the council of the brethren he is brought
forward into the midst and stripped of his own clothes, and clad by the
Abbot's hands in the dress of the monastery, so that by this he may know
not only that he has been despoiled of all his old things, but also that he
has laid aside all worldly pride, and come down to the want and poverty of
Christ, and that he is now to be supported not by wealth sought for by the
world's arts, nor by anything reserved from his former state of unbelief,
but that he is to receive out of the holy and sacred funds of the monastery
his rations for his service; and that, as he knows that he is thence to be
clothed and fed and that he has nothing of his own, he may learn,
nevertheless, not to be anxious about the morrow, according to the saying
of the Gospel, and may not be ashamed to be on a level with the poor, that
is with the body of the brethren, with whom Christ was not ashamed to be
numbered, and to call him-self their brother, but that rather he may glory
that he has been made to share the lot of his own servants.(1)

CHAPTER VI: The reason why the clothes of the renunciants with which they
joined the monastery are preserved by the steward.

   But those clothes, which he laid aside, are consigned to the care of
the steward and kept until by different sorts of temptations and trials
they can recognize the excellence of his progress and life and endurance.
And if they see that he can continue therein as time goes on, and remain in
that fervour with which he began, they give them away to the poor. But if
they find that he has been guilty of any fault of murmuring, or of even the
smallest piece of disobedience, then they strip off from him the dress of
the monastery in which he had been clad, and reclothe him in his old
garments which had been confiscated, and send him away.(2) For it is not
right for him to go away with those which he had received, nor do they
allow any one to be any longer dressed in them if they have seen him once
grow cold in regard to the rule of their institution. Wherefore, also, the
opportunity of going out openly is not given to any one, unless he escapes
like a runaway slave by taking advantage of the thickest shades of night,
or is judged unworthy of this order and profession and lays aside the dress
of the monastery and is expelled with shame and disgrace before all the
brethren.

CHAPTER VII: The reason why those who are admitted to a monastery are not
permitted to mix at once with the congregation of the brethren, but are
first committed to the guest house.

   When, then, any one has been received and proved by that persistence of
which we have spoken, and, laying aside his own garments, has been clad in
those of the monastery, he is not allowed to mix at once with the
congregation of the brethren, but is given into the charge of an Elder, who
lodges apart not far from the entrance of the monastery, and is en-trusted
with the care of strangers and guests, and bestows all his diligence in
receiving them kindly. And when he has served there for a whole year
without any complaint, and has given evidence of service towards
strangers,(5) being thus initiated in the first rudiments of humility and
patience, and by long practice in it acknowledged, when he is to be
admitted from this into the congregation of the brethren he is handed over
to another EIder, who is placed over ten of the juniors, who are entrusted
to him by the Abbot, and whom he both teaches and governs in accordance
with the arrangement which we read of in Exodus as made by Moses.(1)

CHAPTER VIII: Of the practices in which the juniors are first exercised
that they may become proficient in overcoming all their desires.

   And his anxiety and the chief part of his instruction--through which
the juniors brought to him may be able in due course to mount to the
greatest heights of perfection--will be to teach him first to conquer his
own wishes; and, anxiously and diligently practising him in this, he will
of set purpose contrive to give him such orders as he knows to be contrary
to his liking; for, taught by many examples, they say that a monk, and
especially the younger ones, cannot bridle the desire of his concupiscence
unless he has first learnt by obedience to mortify his wishes. And so the
lay it down that the man who has not first learnt to overcome his desires
cannot possibly stamp out anger or sulkiness, or the spirit of fornication;
nor can he preserve true humility of heart, or lasting unity with the
brethren, or a stable and continuous concord; nor remain for any length of
time in the monastery.

CHAPTER IX: The reason why the juniors are enjoined not to keep back any of
their thoughts from the senior.

By these practices, then, they hasten to impress and instruct those whom
they are training with the alphabet, as it were, and first syllables in the
direction of perfection, as they can clearly see by these whether they are
grounded in a false and imaginary or in a true humility. And, that they may
easily arrive  at this, they are next taught not to conceal by a false
shame any itching thoughts in their hearts, but, as soon as ever such
arise, to lay them bare to the senior, and, in forming a judgment about
them, not to trust anything to their own discretion, but to take it on
trust  that that is good or bad which is considered and pronounced so by
the examination of the senior. Thus it results that our cunning adversary
cannot in any way circumvent a young and inexperienced monk, or get the
better of his ignorance, or by any craft deceive one whom he sees to be
protected not by his own discretion but by that of his senior, and who
cannot be persuaded to hide from his senior those suggestions of his which
like fiery darts he has shot into his heart; since the devil, subtle as he
is, cannot ruin or destroy a junior unless he has enticed him either
through pride or through shame to conceal his thoughts. For they lay it
down as an universal and clear proof that a thought is from the devil if we
are ashamed to disclose it to the senior.(2)

CHAPTER X: How thorough is the obedience of the juniors even in those
things which are matters of common necessity.

   Next, the rule is kept with such strict obedience that, without the
knowledge and permission of their superior, the juniors not only do not
dare to leave their cell but on their own authority do not venture to
satisfy their common and natural needs. And so they are quick to fulfil
without any discussion all those things that are ordered by him, as if they
were commanded by God from heaven;(3) so that sometimes, when
impossibilities are commanded them, they undertake them with such faith and
devotion as to strive with all their powers and without the slightest
hesitation to fulfil them and carry them out; and out of reverence for
their senior they do not even consider whether a command is an
impossibility.(4) But of their obedience I omit at present to speak more
particularly, for we propose to speak of it in the proper place a little
later on, with instances of it, if through your prayers the Lord carry us
safely through. We now proceed to the other regulations, passing over all
account of those which cannot be imposed on or kept in the monasteries in
this country, as we promised to do in our Preface; for instance, how they
never use woollen garments, but only cotton, and these not double, changes
of which each superior gives out to the ten monks under his care when he
sees that those which they are wearing are dirty.

CHAPTER XI: The kind of food which is considered the greater delicacy by
them.

   I pass over, too, that difficult and sublime sort of self-control,
through which it is considered the greatest luxury if the plant called
cherlock,(1) prepared with salt and steeped in water, is set on the table
for the repast of the brethren; and many other things like this, which in
this country neither the climate nor the weakness of our constitution would
permit. And I shall only follow up those matters which cannot be interfered
with by any weakness of the flesh or local situation, if only no weakness
of mind or coldness of spirit gets rid of them.

CHAPTER XII: How they leave off every kind of work at the sound of some one
knocking at the door, in their eagerness to answer at once,

   And so, sitting in their cells and devoting their energies equally to
work and to meditation, when they hear the sound of some one knocking at
the door and striking on the cells of each, summoning them to prayer or
some work, every one eagerly dashes out from his cell, so that one who is
practising the writer's art, although he may have just begun to form a
letter, does not venture to finish it, but runs out with the utmost speed,
at the very moment when the sound of the knocking reaches his ears, without
even waiting to finish the letter he has begun; but, leaving the lines of
the letter incomplete, he aims not at abridging and saving his labour, but
rather hastens with the utmost earnestness and zeal to attain the virtue of
obedience, which they put not merely before manual labour and reading and
silence and quietness in the cell, but even before all virtues, so that
they consider that everything  should be postponed to it, and are content
to  undergo any amount of inconvenience if only  it may be seen that they
have in no way neglected this virtue.(2)

CHAPTER XIII: How wrong it is considered for any one to say that anything,
however trifling, is his own.

   Among their other practices I fancy that it is unnecessary even to
mention this virtue, viz., that no one is allowed to possess a box or
basket as his special property, nor any such thing which he could keep as
his own and secure with his own seal, as we are well aware that they are in
all respects stripped so bare that they have nothing whatever except their
shirt, cloak, shoes, sheepskin, and rush mat;(3) for in other monasteries
as well, where some  indulgence and relaxation is granted, we see  that
this rule is still most strictly kept, so that no one ventures to say even
in word that anything is his own: and it is a great offence if there drops
from the mouth of a monk such an expression as "my book," "my tablets," "my
pen," " my coat," or "my shoes;" and for this he would have to make
satisfaction by a proper penance, if by accident some such expression
escaped his lips through thoughtlessness or ignorance.

CHAPTER XIV: How, even if a large sum of money is amassed by the labour of
each, still no one may venture to exceed the moderate limit of what is
appointed as adequate.

   And although each one of them may bring in daily by his work and labour
so great a return to the monastery that he could out of it not only satisfy
his own moderate demands but could also abundantly supply the wants of
many, yet he is no way puffed up, nor does he flatter himself on account of
his toil and this large gain from his labour, but, except two biscuits,(4)
which are sold there for scarcely threepence, no one thinks that he has a
right to anything further. And among them there is nothing (and I am
ashamed to say this, and heartily wish it was unknown in our own
monasteries) which is claimed by any of them, I will not say in deed but
even in thought, as his special property. And though he believes that the
whole granary of the monastery forms his substance, and, as lord of all,
devotes his whole care and energy to it all, yet nevertheless, in order to
maintain that excellent state of want and poverty which he has secured and
which he strives to preserve to the very last in unbroken perfection, he
regards himself as a foreigner and an alien to them all, so that he
conducts himself as a stranger and a sojourner in this world, and considers
himself a pupil of the monastery and a servant instead of imagining that he
is lord and master of anything.

CHAPTER XV: Of the excessive desire of possession among us.

   To this what shall we wretched creatures say, who though living in
Coenobia and established under the government and care of an Abbot yet
carry about our own keys, and trampling under foot all feeling of shame and
disgrace which should spring from our profession, are not ashamed actually
to wear openly upon our fingers rings with which to seal what we have
stored up; and in whose case not merely boxes and baskets, but not even
chests and closets are sufficient for those things which we collect or
which we reserved when we forsook the world; and who sometimes get so angry
over trifles and mere nothings (to which however we lay claim as if they
were our own) that if any one dares to lay a finger on any of them, we are
so filled with rage against him that we cannot keep the wrath of our heart
from being expressed on our lips and in bodily excitement. But, passing by
our faults and treating with silence those things of which it is a shame
even to speak, according to this saying: "My mouth shall not speak the
deeds of men,"(1) let us in accordance with the method of our narration
which we have begun proceed to those virtues which are practised among
them, and which we ought to aim at with all earnestness; and let us briefly
and hastily set down the actual rules and systems that afterwards, coming
to some of the deeds and acts of the elders which we propose carefully to
preserve for recollection, we may support by the strongest testimonies what
we have set forth in our treatise, and still further confirm everything
that we have said by examples and instances from life.

CHAPTER XVI: On the rules for various rebukes.

   If then any one by accident breaks an earthenware jar (which they call
"baucalis "), he can only expiate his carelessness by public penance; and
when all the brethren are assembled for service he must lie on the ground
and ask for absolution until the service of the prayers is finished; and
will obtain it when by the Abbot's command he is bidden to rise from the
ground. The same satisfaction must be given by one who when summoned to
some work or to the usual service comes rather late, or who when singing a
Psalm hesitates ever so little. Similarly if he answers unnecessarily or
roughly or impertinently, if he is careless in carrying out the services
enjoined to him, if he makes a slight complaint, if preferring reading to
work or obedience he is slow in performing his appointed duties, if when
service is over he does not make haste to go back at once to his cell, if
he stops for ever so short a time with some one else, if he goes anywhere
else even for a moment, if he takes any one else by the hand, if he
ventures to discuss anything however small with one who is not the joint-
occupant of his cell,(2) if he prays with one who is suspended from prayer,
if he sees any of his relations or friends in the world  and talks with
them without his senior, if he tries to receive a letter from any one or to
write back without his Abbot's leave.(3) To such an extent does spiritual
censure proceed and in such matters and faults like these. But as for other
things which when indiscriminately committed among us are treated by us too
as blameworthy, viz.: open wrangling, manifest contempt, arrogant
contradictions, going out from the monastery freely and without check,
familiarity with women, wrath, quarrelling, jealousies, disputes, claiming
something as one's own property, the infection of covetousness, the desire
and acquisition of unnecessary things which are not possessed by the rest
of the brethren, taking food between meals and by stealth, and things like
these--they are dealt with not by that spiritual censure of which we spoke,
but by stripes; or are atoned for by expulsion.

CHAPTER XVII: Of those who introduced the plan that the holy Lessons should
be read in the Coenobia while the brethren are eating, and of the strict
silence which is kept among the Egyptians.

   BUT we have been informed that the plan that, while the brethren are
eating, the holy lessons should be read in the Coenobia did not originate
in the Egyptian system but in the Cappadocian. And there is no doubt that
they meant to establish it not so much for the sake of the spiritual
exercise as for the sake of putting a stop to unnecessary and idle
conversation, and especially discussions, which so often arise at meals;
since they saw that these could not be prevented among them in any other
way.(1) For among the Egyptians and especially those of Tabenna so strict a
silence is observed by all that when so large a number of the brethren has
sat down together to a meal, no one ventures to talk even in a low tone
except the dean, who however if he sees that anything is wanted to be put
on or taken off the table, signifies it by a sign rather than a word. And
while they are eating, the rule of this silence is so strictly kept that
with their hoods drawn down over their eyelids (to prevent their roving
looks having the opportunity of wandering inquisitively) they can see
nothing except the table, and the food that is put on it, and which they
take from it; so that no one notices what another is eating.(2)

CHAPTER XVIII: How it is against the rule for any one to take anything to
eat or drink except at the common table.

   In between their regular meals in common they are especially careful
that no one should presume to gratify his palate with any food:(3) so that
when they are walking casually through gardens or orchards, when the fruit
hanging enticingly on the trees not only knocks against their breasts as
they pass through, but is also lying on the ground and offering itself to
be trampled under foot, and (as it is all ready to be gathered) would
easily be able to entice those who see it to gratify their appetite, and by
the chance offered to them and the quantity of the fruit, to excite even
the most severe and abstemious to long for it; still they consider it wrong
not merely to taste a single fruit, but even to touch one with the hand,
except what is put on the table openly for the common meal of all, and
supplied publicly by the steward's catering through the service of the
brethren, for their enjoyment.

CHAPTER XIX: How throughout Palestine and Mesopotamia a daily service is
undertaken by the brethren.

   In order that we may not appear to omit any of the Institutes of the
Coenobia I think that it should be briefly mentioned that in other
countries as well there is a daily service undertaken by the brethren. For
throughout the whole of Mesopotamia, Palestine, and Cappadocia and all the
East the brethren succeed one another in turn every week for the
performance of certain duties, so that the number serving is told  off
according to the whole number of monks in the Coenobium. And they hasten to
fulfil these duties with a zeal and humility such as no slave bestows on
his service even to a most harsh and powerful master; so that not satisfied
only with these services which are rendered by canonical rule, they
actually rise by night in their zeal and relieve those whose special duty
this is; and secretly anticipating them try to finish those duties which
these others would have to do. But each one who undertakes these weeks is
on duty and has to serve until supper on Sunday, and when this is done, his
duty for the whole week is finished, so that, when all the brethren come
together to chant the Psalms (which according to custom they sing before
going to bed) those whose turn is over wash the feet of all in turn,
seeking faithfully from them the reward of this blessing for their work
during the whole week, that the prayers offered up by all the brethren
together may accompany them as they fulfil the command of Christ. the
prayer, to wit, that intercedes for their ignorances and for their sins
committed through human frailty, and may commend to God the complete
service of their devotion like some rich offering. And so on Monday after
the Martin hymns they hand over to others who take their place the vessels
and utensils with which they have ministered, which these receive and keep
with the utmost care and anxiety, that none of them may be injured or
destroyed, as they believe that even for the smallest vessels they must
give an account, as sacred things, not only to a present steward, but to
the Lord, if by chance any of them is injured through their carelessness.
And what limit there is to this discipline, and what fidelity and care
there is in keeping it up, you may see from one instance which I will give
as an example. For while we are anxious to satisfy that fervour of yours
through which you ask for a full account of everything, and want even what
you know perfectly well to be repeated to you in this treatise, we are also
afraid of exceeding the limits of brevity.(1)

CHAPTER XX: Of the three lentil beans which the Steward found.

   During the week of a certain brother the steward passing by saw lying
on the ground three lentil beans which had slipped out of the hand of the
monk on duty for the week(2) as he was hastily preparing them for cooking,
together with the water in which he was washing them; and immediately he
consulted the Abbot on the subject; and by him the monk was adjudged a
pilferer and careless about sacred property, and so was suspended from
prayer. And the offence of his negligence was only pardoned when he had
atoned for it by public penance. For they believe not only that they
themselves are not their own, but also that everything that they possess is
consecrated to the Lord. Wherefore if anything whatever has once been
brought into the monastery they hold that it ought to be treated with the
utmost reverence as an holy thing. And they attend to and arrange
everything with great fidelity, even in the case of things which are
considered unimportant or regarded as common and paltry, so that if they
change their position and put them in a better place, or if they fill a
bottle with water, or give anybody something to drink out of it, or if they
remove a little dust from the oratory or from their cell they believe with
implicit faith that they will receive a reward from the Lord.

CHAPTER XXI: Of the spontaneous service of some of the brethren.

   We have been told of brethren in whose week there was such a scarcity
of wood that they had not enough to prepare the usual food for the
brethren; and when it had been ordered by the Abbot's authority that until
more could be brought and fetched, they should content themselves with
dried food,(3) though this was agreed to by all and no one could expect any
cooked food; still these men as if they were cheated of the fruit and
reward of their labour and service, if they did not prepare the food for
their brethren according to custom in the order of their turn--imposed upon
themselves such uncalled-for labour and care that in those dry and sterile
regions where wood cannot possibly be procured unless it is cut from the
fruit trees (for there are no wild shrubs found there as with us), they
wander about through the wide deserts, and traversing the wilderness which
stretches towards the Dead Sea,(4) collect in their lap and the folds of
their dress the scanty stubble and brambles which the wind carries hither
and thither, and so by their voluntary service prepare all their usual food
for the brethren, so that they suffer nothing to be diminished of the
ordinary supply; discharging these duties of theirs towards their brethren
with such fidelity that though the scarcity of wood and the Abbot's order
would be a fair excuse for them, yet still out of regard for their profit
and reward they will not take advantage of this liberty.

CHAPTER XXII: The system of the Egyptians, which is appointed for the daily
service of the brethren.

   These things have been told in accordance with the system, as we
remarked before, of the whole East, which also we say should be observed as
a matter of course in our own country. But among the Egyptians whose chief
care is for work there is not the mutual change of weekly service, for fear
lest owing to the requirements of office they might all be hindered from
keeping the rule of work. But one of the most approved brethren is given
the care of the larder and kitchen, and he takes charge of that office for
good and all as long as hi s strength and years permit. For he is exhausted
by no great bodily labour, because no great care is expended among them in
preparing food or in cooking, as they so largely make use of dried and
uncooked food,(1) and among them the leaves of leeks cut each month, and
cherlock, table salt,(2) olives, tiny little salt fish which they call
sardines,(3) form the greatest delicacy.

CHAPTER XXIII: The obedience of Abbot John by which he was exalted even to
the grace of prophecy.

   And since this book is about the training of one who renounces this
world, whereby, making a beginning of true humility and perfect obedience,
he may be enabled to ascend the heights of the other virtues as well, I
think it well to set down just by way of specimen, as we promised, some of
the deeds of the elders whereby they excelled in this virtue, selecting a
few only out of many instances, that, if any are anxious to aim at still
greater heights, they may not only receive from these an incitement towards
the perfect life, but may also be furnished with a model of what they
purpose. Wherefore, to make this book as short as possible we will produce
and set down two or three out of the whole number of the Fathers; and first
of all Abbot John who lived near Lycon(4) which is a town in the Thebaid;
and who was exalted even to the grace of prophecy for his admirable
obedience, and was so celebrated all the world over that he was by his
merits rendered famous even among kings of this world. For though, as we
said, he lived in the most remote parts of the Thebaid, still the Emperor
Theodosius did not venture to declare war against the most powerful tyrants
before he was encouraged by his utterances and replies: trusting in which
as if they had been brought to him from heaven he gained victories over his
foes in battles which seemed hopeless.(5)

CHAPTER XXIV: Of the dry stick which, at the bidding of his senior, Abbot
John kept on watering as if it would grow.

   And so this blessed John from his youth up even to a full and ripe age
of manhood was subject to his senior as long as he continued living in this
world, and carried out his commands with such humility that his senior
himself was utterly astounded at his obedience; and as he wanted to make
sure whether this virtue came from genuine faith and profound simplicity of
heart, or whether it was put on and as it were constrained and only shown
in the presence of the bidder, he often laid upon him many superfluous and
almost unnecessary  or even impossible commands. From which I will select
three to show to those who wish   to know how perfect was his disposition
and subjection. For the old man took from his woodstack a stick which had
previously been cut and got ready to make the fire with, and which, as no
opportunity for cooking had come, was lying not merely dry but even mouldy
from the lapse of time. And when he had stuck it into the ground before his
very eyes, he ordered him to fetch water and to water it twice a day that
by this daily watering it might strike roots and be restored to life as a
tree, as it was before, and spread out its branches and afford a pleasant
sight to the eyes as well as a shade for those who sat under it in the heat
of summer. And this order the lad received with his customary veneration,
never considering its impossibility, and day by day carried it out so that
he constantly carried water for nearly two miles and never ceased to water
the stick; and for a whole year no bodily infirmity, no festival services,
no necessary business (which might fairly have excused him from carrying
out the command), and lastly no severity of winter could interfere and
hinder him from obeying this order. And when the old man had watched this
zeal of his on the sly without saying anything for several days and had
seen that he kept this command of his with simple willingness of heart, as
if it had come from heaven, without any change of countenance or
consideration of its reasonableness--approving the unfeigned obedience of
his humility and at the same time commiserating his tedious labour which in
the zeal of his devotion he had continued for a whole year--he came to the
dry stick, and "John," said he, "has this tree put forth roots or no?" And
when the other said that he did not know, then the old man as if seeking
the truth of the matter and trying whether it was yet depending on its
roots, pulled up the stick before him with a slight disturbance of the
earth, and throwing it away told him that for the future he might stop
watering it.(1)

CHAPTER XXV: Of the unique vase of oil thrown away by Abbot John at his
senior's command.

   Thus the youth, trained up by exercises of this sort, daily increased
in this virtue of obedience, and shone forth more and more with the grace
of humility; and when the sweet odour of his obedience spread throughout
all the monasteries, some of the brethren, coming to the older for the sake
of testing him or rather of being edified by him, marvelled at his
obedience of which they had heard; and so the older called him suddenly,
and said, "Go up and take this cruse of oil"(2) (which was the only one in
the desert and which furnished a very scanty supply of the rich liquid for
their own use and for that of strangers) "and throw it down out of window."
And he flew up stairs when summoned and threw it out of window and cast it
down to the ground and broke it in pieces without any thought or
consideration of the folly of the command, or their daily wants, and bodily
infirmity, or of their poverty, and the trials and difficulties of the
wretched desert in which, even if they had got the money for it, oil of
that quality, once lost, could not be procured or replaced.

CHAPTER XXVI: How Abbot John obeyed his senior by trying to roll a huge
stone, which a large number of men were unable to move.

AGAIN, when some others were anxious to be edified by the example of his
obedience, the elder called him and said: "John, run and roll that stone
hither as quickly as possible;" and he forthwith, applying now his neck,
and now his whole body, tried with all his might and main to roll an
enormous stone which a great crowd of men would not be able to move, so
that not only were his clothes saturated with sweat from his limbs, but the
stone itself was wetted by his neck; in this too never weighing the
impossibility of the  command and deed, out of reverence for the old man
and the unfeigned simplicity of his service, as he believed implicitly that
the old man could not command him to do anything vain or without reason.

CHAPTER XXVII: Of the humility and obedience of Abbot Patermucius,(3) which
he did not hesitate  to make perfect by throwing his little boy into the
river at the command of his senior.

   So far let it suffice for me to have told a few things out of many
concerning Abbot John: now I will relate a memorable deed of Abbot
Patermucius. For he, when anxious to renounce the world, remained lying
before the doors of the monastery for a long time until by his dogged
persistence he induced them--contrary to all the rules of the Coenobia--to
receive him together with his little boy who was about eight years old. And
when they were at last admitted they were at once not only committed to the
care of different superiors, but also put to live in separate cells that
the father might not be reminded by the constant sight of the little one
that out of all his possessions and carnal treasures, which he had cast off
and renounced, at least his son remained to him; and that as he was already
taught that he was no longer a rich man, so he might also forget the fact
that he was a father. And that it might be more thoroughly tested whether
he would make affection and love(1) for his own flesh and blood of more
account than obedience and Christian mortification (which all who renounce
the world ought out of love to Christ to prefer), the child was on purpose
neglected and dressed in rags instead of proper clothes; and so covered and
disfigured with dirt that he would rather disgust than delight the eyes of
his father whenever he saw him. And further, he was exposed to blows and
slaps from different people, which the father often saw inflicted without
the slightest reason on his innocent child under his very eyes, so that he
never saw his cheeks without their being stained with the dirty marks of
tears. And though the child was treated thus day after day before his eyes,
yet still out of love for Christ and the virtue of obedience the father's
heart stood firm and unmoved. For he no longer regarded him as his own son,
as he had offered him equally with himself to Christ; nor was he concerned
about his present injuries, but rather rejoiced because he saw that they
were endured, not without profit; thinking little of his son's tears, but
anxious about his own humility and perfection. And when the Superior of the
Coenobium saw his steadfastness of mind and immovable inflexibility, in
order thoroughly to prove the constancy of his purpose, one day when he had
seen the child crying, he pretended that he was annoyed with him and told
the father to throw him into the river. Then he, as if this had been
commanded him by the Lord, at once snatched up the child as quickly as
possible, and carried him in his arms to the river's bank to throw him in.
And straightway in the fervour of his faith and obedience this would have
been carried out in act, had not some of the brethren been purposely set to
watch the banks of the river very carefully, and when the child was thrown
in, had somehow snatched him from the bed of the stream, and prevented the
command, which was really fulfilled by the obedience and devotion of the
father, from being consummated in act and result.

CHAPTER XXVIII: How it was revealed to the Abbot concerning Patermucius
that he had done the deed of Abraham; and how when the same Abbot died,
Patermucius succeeded to the charge of the monastery.

   And this man's faith and devotion was so acceptable to God that it was
immediately approved by a divine testimony. For it was forthwith revealed
to the Superior that by this obedience of his he had copied the deed of the
patriarch Abraham. And when shortly afterwards the same Abbot of the
monastery departed out of this life to Christ, he preferred him to all the
brethren, and left him as his successor and as Abbot to the monastery.

CHAPTER XXIX: Of the obedience of a brother who at the Abbot's bidding
carried about in public ten baskets and sold them by retail.

   We will also not be silent about a brother whom we knew, who belonged
to a high family according to the rank of this world, for he was sprung
from a father who was a count and extremely wealthy, and had been well
brought up with a liberal education. This man, when he had left his parents
and fled to the monastery, in order to prove the humility of his
disposition and the ardour of his faith was at once ordered by his superior
to load his shoulders with ten baskets (which there was no need to sell
publicly), and to hawk them about through the streets for sale: this
condition being attached, so that he might be kept longer at the work,
viz.: that if any one should chance to want to buy them all together, he
was not to allow it, but was to sell them to purchasers separately. And
this he carried out with the utmost zeal, and trampling under foot all
shame and confusion, out of love for Christ, and for His Name's sake, he
put the baskets on his shoulders and sold them by retail at the price fixed
and brought back the money to the monastery; not in the least upset by the
novelty of so mean and unusual a duty, and paying no attention to the
indignity of the thing and the splendour of his birth, and the disgrace of
the sale, as he was aiming at gaining through the grace of obedience that
humility of Christ which is the true nobility.

CHAPTER XXX: Of the humility of Abbot Pinufius, who left a very famous
Coenobium over which he presided as Presbyter, and out of the love of
subjection sought a distant monastery where he could be received as a
novice.

   THE limits of the book compel us to draw to a close; but the virtue of
obedience, which holds the first place among other good qualities, will not
allow us altogether to pass over in silence the deeds of those who have
excelled by it. Wherefore aptly combining these two together, I mean,
consulting brevity as well as the wishes and profit of those who are in
earnest, we will only add one example  of humility, which, as it was shown
by no  novice but one already perfect and an Abbot, may not only instruct
the younger, but also incite the elders to the perfect virtue of humility,
as they read it. Thus we saw Abbot Pinufius(1) who when he was presbyter of
a huge Coenobium which is in Egypt not far from the city of Panephysis,(2)
was held in honour and respect by all men out of reverence either for his
life or for his age or for his priesthood; and when he saw that for this
reason he could not practise that humility which he longed for with all the
ardour of his disposition, and had no opportunity of exercising the virtue
of subjection which he desired, he fled secretly from the Coenobium and
withdrew alone into the furthest parts of the Thebaid, and there laid aside
the habit of the monks and assumed a secular dress, and thus sought the
Coenobium of Tabenna, which he knew to be the strictest of all, and in
which he fancied that he would not be known owing to the distance of the
spot, or else that he could easily lie hid there in consequence of the size
of the monastery and the number of brethren. There he remained for a long
time at the entrance, and as a suppliant at the knees of the brethren
sought with most earnest prayers to gain admission. And when he was at last
with much scorn admitted as a feeble old man who had lived all his life in
the world, and had asked in his old age to be allowed to enter a Coenobium
when he could no longer gratify his passions,--as they said that he was
seeking this not for the sake of religion but because he was compelled by
hunger and want, they gave him the care and management of the garden, as he
seemed an old man and not specially fitted for any particular work. And
this he performed under another and a younger brother who kept him by him
as intrusted to him, and he was so subordinate to him, and cultivated the
desired virtue of humility so obediently that he daily performed-with the
utmost diligence not only everything that had to do with the care and
management of the garden, but also all those duties which were looked on by
the other as hard and degrading, and disagreeable. Rising also by night he
did many things secretly, without any one looking on or knowing it, when
darkness concealed him so that no one could discover the author of the
deed. And when he had hidden himself there for three years and had been
sought for high and low by the brethren all through Egypt, he was at last
seen by one who had come from the parts of Egypt, but could scarcely be
recognized owing to the meanness of his dress and the humble character of
the duty he was performing. For he was stooping down and hoeing the ground
for vegetables and bringing dung on his shoulders and laying it about their
roots. And seeing this the brother for a long time hesitated about
recognizing him, but at last he came nearer, and taking careful note not
only of his looks but also of the tone of his voice, straightway   fell at
his feet: and at first all who saw it were struck with the greatest
astonishment why he should do this to one who was looked up. on by them as
the lowest of all, as being. a novice and one who had but lately forsaken
the world: but afterwards they were struck with still greater wonder when
he forthwith announced his name, which was one that had been well known
amongst them also by repute. And all the brethren asking his pardon for
their former ignorance because they had for so long classed him with the
juniors and children, brought him back to his own Coenobium, against his
will and in tears because by the envy of the devil he had been cheated out
of a worthy mode of life and the humility which he was rejoicing in having
discovered after his long search, and because he had not succeeded in
ending his life in that state of subjection which he had secured. And so
they guarded him with the utmost care lest he should slip away again in the
same sort of way and escape from them also.

CHAPTER XXXI: How when Abbot Pinufius was brought back to his monastery he
stayed there for a little while and then fled again into the regions of
Syrian Palestine.

   And when he had stopped there for a little while, again he was seized
with a longing and  desire for humility, and, taking advantage of  the
silence of night, made his escape in such a way that this time he sought no
neighbouring district, but regions which were unknown and strange and
separated by a wide distance. For embarking in a ship he managed to travel
to Palestine, believing that he would more securely lie hid if he betook
himself to those places in which his name had never been  heard. And when
he had come thither, at once he sought out our own monastery(1) which was
at no great distance from the cave(2) in  which our Lord vouchsafed to be
born of a virgin. And though he concealed himself here for some time, yet
like "a city set on an hill"(3) (to use our Lord's expression) he could not
long be hid. For presently some of the brethren who had come to the holy
places from Egypt to pray there recognized him and recalled him with most
fervent prayers to his own Coenobium.

CHAPTER XXXII: The charge which the same Abbot Pinufius gave to a brother
whom he admitted into his monastery in our presence.

   THIS old man, then, we afterwards diligently sought out in Egypt
because we had been intimate with him in our own monastery; and I propose
to insert in this work of mine an exhortation which he gave in our presence
to   a brother whom he admitted into the monastery, because I think that it
may be useful. You know, said he, that after lying for so many days at the
entrance you are to-day to be admitted. And to begin with you ought to know
the reason of the difficulty put in your way. For it may be of great
service to you in this road on which you are desirous to enter, if you
understand the method of it and approach the service of Christ accordingly,
and as you ought.

CHAPTER XXXIII: How it is that, just as a great reward is due to the monk
who labours according to the regulations of the fathers, so likewise
punishment must he inflicted on an idle one; and therefore no one should be
admitted into a monastery too easily.

   FOR as unbounded glory hereafter is promised to those who faithfully
serve God and cleave to Him according to the rule of this system; so the
severest penalties are in store for those who have carried it out
carelessly and coldly, and have failed to show to Him fruits of holiness
corresponding to what they professed or what they were believed by men to
be. For "it is better," as Scripture says, "that a man should not vow
rather than that he should vow and not pay;" and "Cursed is he that doeth
the work of the Lord carelessly."(4) Therefore you were for a long while
declined by us, not as if we did not desire with all our hearts to secure
your salvation and the salvation of all, nor as if we did not care to go to
meet even afar off those who are longing to be converted to Christ; but for
fear lest if we received you rashly we might make ourselves guilty in the
sight of God of levity, and make you incur a yet heavier punishment, if,
when you had been too easily admitted by us without realizing the
responsibility of this profession, you had afterwards turned out a deserter
or lukewarm. Wherefore you ought in the first instance to learn the actual
reason for the renunciation of the world, and when you have seen this, you
can be taught more plainly what you ought to do, from the reason for it.

CHAPTER XXXIV: Of the why in which our renunciation is nothing but
mortification and the image of the Crucified.

   Renunciation is nothing but the evidence of the cross and of
mortification. And so you must know that to-day you are dead to this world
and its deeds and desires, and that, as the Apostle says, you are crucified
to this world and this world to you.(5) Consider therefore the demands of
the cross under the sign(6) of which you ought henceforward to live in this
life; because you no longer live but He lives in you who was crucified for
you.(7) We must therefore pass our time in this life in that fashion and
form in which He was crucified for us on the cross so that (as David says)
piercing our flesh with the fear of the Lord,(8) we may have all our wishes
and desires not subservient to our own lusts but fastened to His
mortification. For so shall we fulfil the command of the Lord which says:
"He that taketh not up his cross and followeth me is not worthy of me."(9)
But perhaps you will say: How can a man carry his cross continually? or how
can any one who is alive be crucified? Hear briefly how this is.

CHAPTER XXXV: How the fear of the Lord is our cross.

   THE fear of the Lord is our cross. As then one who is crucified no
longer has the power of moving or turning his limbs in any direction as he
pleases, so we also ought to affix our wishes and desires--not in
accordance with what is pleasant and delightful to us now, but in
accordance with the law of the Lord, where it constrains us. And as he who
is fastened to the wood of the cross no longer considers things present,
nor thinks about his likings, nor is perplexed by anxiety and care for the
morrow, nor disturbed by any desire of possession, nor inflamed by any
pride or strife or rivalry, grieves not at present injuries, remembers not
past ones, and while he is still breathing in the body considers that he is
dead  to all earthly things,(1) sending the thoughts of his heart on before
to that place whither he doubts not that he is shortly to come: so we also,
when crucified by the fear of the Lord ought to be dead indeed to all these
things, i.e. not only to carnal vices but also to all earthly things,(1)
having the eye of our minds fixed there  whither we hope at each moment
that we are soon to pass. For in this way we can have all our desires and
carnal affections mortified.

CHAPTER XXXVI: How our renunciation of the world is of no use if we are
again entangled in those things which we have renounced.

   BEWARE therefore lest at any time you take again any of those things
which you renounced and forsook, and, contrary to the Lord's command,
return from the field of evangelical work, and be found to have clothed
yourself again in your coat which you had stripped off;(2) neither sink
back to the low and earthly lusts and desires of this world, and in
defiance of Christ's word come down from the rod of perfection and dare to
take up again any of those things which you have renounced and forsaken.
Beware that you remember nothing of your kinsfolk or of your former
affections, and that you are not called back to the cares and anxieties of
this world, and (as our Lord says) putting your hand to the plough and
looking back be found unfit for the kingdom of heaven.(3) Beware lest at
any time, when you have begun to dip into the knowledge of the Psalms and
of this life, you be little by little puffed up and think of reviving that
pride which now at your beginning you have trampled under foot in the
ardour of faith and in fullest humility; and thus (as the Apostle says)
building again those things which you had destroyed, you make yourself a
backslider.(4) But rather take heed to continue even to the end in that
state of nakedness of which you made profession in the sight of God and of
his angels. In this humility too and patience, with which you persevered
for ten days before the doors and entreated with many tears to be admitted
into the monastery, you should not only continue but also increase and go
forward. For it is too bad that when you ought to be carried on from the
rudiments and beginnings, and go forward to perfection, you should begin to
fall back from these to worse things. For not he who begins these things,
but he who endures in them to the end, shall be saved.(5)

CHAPTER XXXVII: How the devil always lies in wait for our end, and how we
ought continually to watch his head.(6)

   FOR the subtle serpent is ever "watching our heel," that is, is lying
in wait for the close, and endeavouring to trip us up right to the end of
our life. And therefore it will not be of any use to have made a good
beginning and to have eagerly taken the first step towards renouncing the
world with all fervour, if a corresponding end does not likewise set it off
and conclude it, and if the humility and poverty of Christ, of which you
have now made profession in His sight, are not preserved by you even to the
close of your life, as they were first secured. And that you may succeed in
doing this, do you ever "watch his head," i.e. the first rise of thoughts,
by bringing them at once to your superior. For thus you will learn to
"bruise" his dangerous beginnings, if you are not ashamed to disclose any
of them to your superior.

CHAPTER XXXVIII: Of the renunciant's preparation against temptation, and of
the few who are worthy of imitation.

   WHEREFORE, as Scripture says, "when you go forth to serve the Lord
stand in the fear of the Lord, and prepare your mind"(7) not for repose or
carelessness or delights, but for temptations and troubles. For "through
much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom of God." For "strait is the
gate and narrow is  the way which leadeth unto life, and few there be which
find it."(1) Consider therefore that you belong to the few and elect; and
do not grow cold after the examples of the lukewarmness of many: but live
as the few, that with the few you may be worthy of a place in the kingdom
of God: for "many are called, but few chosen, and it is a "little flock to
which it is the Father's good pleasure to give"(2) an inheritance. You
should therefore realize that it is no light sin for one who has made
profession of perfection to follow after what is imperfect. And to this
state of perfection you may attain by the following steps and in the
following way.

CHAPTER XXXIX: Of the way in which we shall mount towards perfection,
whereby we may afterwards ascend from the fear of God up to love.

   "THE beginning" of our salvation and the safeguard of it is, as I said,
"the fear of the Lord."(3) For through this those who are trained in the
way of perfection can gain a start in, conversion as well as purification
from vices and security in virtue. And when this has gained an entrance
into a man's heart it produces contempt of all things, and begets a
forgetfulness of kinsfolk and an horror of the world itself. But by the
contempt for the loss of all possessions humility is gained. And humility
is attested by these signs: First of all if a man has all his desires
mortified; secondly, if he conceals none of his actions or even of his
thoughts from his superior; thirdly, if he puts no trust in his own
opinion, but all in the judgment of his superior, and listens eagerly and
willingly to his directions; fourthly, if he maintains in everything
obedience and gentleness and constant patience; fifthly, if he not only
hurts nobody else, but also is not annoyed or vexed at wrongs done to
himself; sixthly, if he does nothing and ventures on nothing to which he is
not urged by the Common Rule or by the example of our elders; seventhly, if
he is contented with the lowest possible position, and considers himself as
a bad workman and unworthy in  the case of everything enjoined to him;
eighthly, if he does not only outwardly profess with his lips that he is
inferior to all, but really believes it in the inmost thoughts of his
heart; ninthly, if he governs his tongue, and is not over talkative;
tenthly, if he is not easily moved or too ready to laugh. For by such signs
and the like is true humility recognised. And when this has once been
genuinely secured, then at once it leads you on by a still higher step to
love which knows no fear;(4) and through this you begin, without any effort
and  as it were naturally, to keep up everything that you formerly observed
not without fear  of punishment; no longer now from regard of punishment or
fear of it but from love of goodness itself, and delight in virtue.(5)

CHAPTER XL: That  the monk should seek for examples of perfection not from
many instances but from one or a very few.

   And that you may the more easily arrive at this, the examples of the
perfect life of one dwelling in the congregation, which you may imitate,
should be sought from a very few or indeed from one or two only and not
from too many. For apart from the fact that a life which is tested and
refined and purified is only to be found in a few, there is this also to be
gained, viz.: that a man is more thoroughly instructed and formed by the
example of some one, towards the perfection which he sets before him, viz.:
that of the Coenobite life.

CHAPTER XLI: The appearance of what infirmities one who lives in a
Coenobium ought to exhibit.(6)

   And that you may be able to attain all this, and continually remain
subject to this spiritual rule, you must observe these three things in the
congregation: viz.: that as the Psalmist says: "I was like a deaf man and
heard not and as one that is dumb who doth not open his mouth; and I became
as a man that heareth not, and in whose mouth there are no reproofs,"(7) so
you also should walk as one that is deaf and dumb and blind, so that--
putting aside the contemplation of him who has been rightly chosen by you
as your model of perfection--you should be like a blind man and not see any
of those things which you find  to be unedifying, nor(8) be influenced by
the authority or fashion of those who do these things, and give yourself up
to what is worse and what you formerly condemned. If you hear any one
disobedient or insubordinate or disparaging another or doing anything
different from what was taught to you, you should  not go wrong and be led
astray by such an example to imitate him; but, "like a deaf man," as if you
had never heard it, you should pass it all by. If insults are offered to
you or to any one else, or wrongs done, be immovable, and as far as an
answer in retaliation is concerned be silent "as one that is dumb," always
singing in your heart this verse of the Psalmist: "I said I will take heed
to my ways that I offend not with my tongue. I set a guard to  my mouth
when the sinner stood before me. I was dumb and was humbled and kept
silence from good things."(1) But cultivate above everything this fourth
thing which adorns and graces those three of which we have spoken above;
viz.: make yourself, as the Apostle directs,(2) a fool in this world that
you may become wise, exercising no discrimination and judgment of your own
on any of those matters which are commanded to you, but always showing
obedience with all simplicity and faith, judging that alone to be holy,
useful, and wise which God's law or the decision of your superior declares
to you to be such. For built up on such a system of instruction you may
continue forever under this discipline, and not fall away from the
monastery in consequence of any temptations or devices of the enemy.

CHAPTER XLII: How a monk should not look for the blessing of patience in
his own case as a result of the virtue of others, but rather as a
consequence of his own longsuffering.

   You should therefore not look for patience in your own case from the
virtue of others, thinking that then only can you secure it when you are
not irritated by any (for it is not in your own power to prevent this from
happening); but rather you should look for it as the consequence of your
own humility and long-suffering which dues depend on your own will.

CHAPTER XLIII: Recapitulation of the explanation how a monk can mount up
towards perfection.

   AND in order that all these things which have been set forth in a
somewhat lengthy discourse may be more easily stamped on your heart and may
stick in your thoughts with all tenacity, I will make a summary of them so
that you may be able to learn all the changes by heart by reason of their
brevity and conciseness. Hear then in few words how you can mount up to the
heights of perfection without an effort or difficult "The beginning" of our
salvation and of wisdom" is, according to Scripture, "the fear of the
Lord."(3) From the fear of the Lord arises salutary compunction. From
compunction of heart springs renunciation, i.e. nakedness and contempt of
all possessions. From nakedness is begotten humility; from humility the
mortification of desires. Through mortification of desires all faults are
extirpated and decay. By driving out faults virtues shoot up and increase.
By the budding of virtues purity of heart is gained. By purity of heart the
perfection of apostolic love is acquired.

BOOK V.

OF THE SPIRIT OF GLUTTONY.

CHAPTER I: The transition from the Institutes of the monks to the struggle
against the eight principal faults.

   This fifth book of ours is now by the help of God to be produced. For
after the four books which have been composed on the customs of the
monasteries, we now propose, being strengthened by God through your
prayers, to approach the struggle against the eight principal faults, i.e.
first, Gluttony or the pleasures of the palate; secondly, Fornication;
thirdly, Covetousness, which means Avarice, or, as it may more properly be
called, the love of money, fourthly, Anger; fifthly, Dejection; sixthly,
"Accidie,''(4) which is heaviness or weariness of heart; seventhly,
kenodoxi'a which means foolish or vain glory; eighthly, pride. And on
entering upon this difficult task we need your prayers, O most blessed Pope
Castor, more than ever; that we may be enabled in the first place worthily
to investigate the nature of these in all points however trifling or hidden
or obscure: and next to explain with sufficient clearness the causes of
them and thirdly to bring forward fitly the cures and remedies for them.

CHAPTER II: How the occasions of these faults, being found in everybody,
are ignored by everybody; and how we need the Lord's help to make them
plain.

   AND of these passions as the occasions are recognized by everybody as
soon as they are laid open by the teaching of the elders, so before they
are revealed, although we are all overcome by them, and they exist in every
one, yet nobody knows of them. But we trust that we shall be able in some
measure to explain them, if by your prayers that word of the Lord, which
was announced by Isaiah, may apply to us also--"I will go before thee, and
bring low the mighty ones of the land, I will break the gates of brass, and
cut asunder the iron bars, and I will open to thee concealed treasures and
hidden secrets"(1)--so that the word of the Lord may go before us also, and
first may bring low the mighty ones of our land, i.e. these same evil
passions which we are desirous to overcome, and which claim for themselves
dominion and a most horrible tyranny in our mortal body; and may make them
yield to our investigation and explanation, and thus breaking the gates of
our ignorance, and cutting asunder the bars of vices which shut us out from
true knowledge, may lead to the hidden things of our secrets, and reveal to
us who have been illuminated, according to the Apostle's word, "the hidden
things of darkness, and may make manifest the counsels of the hearts,"(2)
that thus penetrating with pure eyes of the mind to the foul darkness of
vices, we may be able to disclose them and drag them forth to light; and
may succeed in explaining their occasions and natures to those who are
either free from them, or are still tied and bound by them, and so passing
as the prophet says,(3) through  the fire of vices which terribly inflame
our minds, we may be able forthwith to pass also through the water of
virtues which extinguish them unharmed, and being bedewed (as it were) with
spiritual remedies may be found worthy to be brought in purity of heart to
the consolations of perfection.

CHAPTER III: How our first struggle must be against the spirit of gluttony,
i.e. the pleasures of the palate.

   AND SO the first conflict we must enter upon is that against gluttony,
which we have explained as the pleasures of the palate: and in the first
place as we are going to speak of the system of fasts, and the quality of
food, we must again recur to the traditions and customs of the Egyptians,
as everybody knows that they contain a more advanced discipline in the
matter of self-control, and a perfect method of discrimination.

CHAPTER IV: The testimony of Abbot Antony in which he teaches that each
virtue ought to be sought for from him who professes it in a special
degree.

   For it is an ancient and excellent saying of the blessed Antony(4) that
when a monk is endeavouring after the plan of the monastic life to reach
the heights of a more advanced perfection, and, having learned the
consideration of discretion, is able now to stand in his own judgment, and
to arrive at the very summit of the anchorite's life, he ought by no means
to seek for all kinds of virtues from one man however excellent. For one is
adorned with flowers of knowledge, another is more strongly fortified with
methods of discretion, another is established in the dignity of patience,
another excels in  the virtue of humility, another in that of continence,
another is decked with the grace of simplicity. This one excels all others
in magnanimity, that one in pity, another in vigils, another in silence,
another in earnestness of work. And therefore the monk who desires to
gather spiritual honey, ought like a most careful bee, to suck out virtue
from those who specially possess it, and should diligently store it up in
the vessel of his own breast: nor should he investigate what any one is
lacking in, but only regard and gather whatever virtue he has. For if we
want to gain all virtues from some one person, we shall with great
difficulty or perhaps never at all find suitable examples for us to
imitate. For though we do not as yet see that even Christ is made "all
things in all," as the Apostle says;(1) still in this way we can find Him
bit by bit in all. For it is said of Him, "Who was made of God to you
wisdom and righteousness and sanctification and redemption."(2) While then
in one there is found wisdom, in another righteousness, in another
sanctification, in another kindness, in another chastity, in another
humility, in another patience, Christ is at the present time divided,
member by member, among all of the saints. But when all come together into
the unity of the faith and virtue, He is formed into the "perfect man,"(3)
completing the fulness of His body, in the joints and properties of all His
members. Until then that time arrives when God will be "all in all," for
the present God can in the way of which we have spoken be "in all," through
particular virtues, although He is not yet "all in all" through the fulness
of them. For although our religion has but one end and aim, yet there are
different ways by which we approach God, as will be more fully shown in the
Conferences of the Elders.(4) And so we must seek a model of discretion and
continence more particularly from those from whom we see that those virtues
flow forth more abundantly through the grace of the Holy Spirit; not that
any one can alone acquire those things which are divided among many, but in
order that in those good qualities of which we are capable we may advance
towards the imitation of those who especially have acquired them.

CHAPTER V: That one and the same rule of fasting cannot be observed by
everybody.

   AND so on the manner of fasting a uniform rule cannot easily be
observed, because everybody has not the same strength; nor is it like the
rest of the virtues, acquired by steadfastness of mind alone. And
therefore, because it does not depend only on mental firmness, since it has
to do with the possibilities of the body, we have received this explanation
concerning it which has been handed down to us, viz.: that there is a
difference of time, manner, and quality of the refreshment in proportion to
the difference of condition of the body, the age, and sex: but that there
is one and the same rule of restraint to everybody as regards continence of
mind, and the virtue of the spirit. For it is impossible for every one to
prolong his fast for a week, or to postpone taking refreshment during a two
or three days' abstinence. By many people also who are worn out with
sickness and especially with old age, a fast even up to sunset cannot be
endured without suffering. The sickly food of moistened beans does not
agree with everybody: nor does a sparing diet of fresh vegetables suit all,
nor is a scanty meal of dry bread permitted to all alike. One man does not
feel satisfied with two pounds, for another a meal of one pound, or six
ounces, is too much; but there is one aim and object of continence in the
case of all of these, viz.: that no one may be overburdened beyond the
measure of his appetite, by gluttony. For it is not only the quality, but
also the quantity of food taken which dulls the keenness of the mind, and
when the soul as well as the flesh is surfeited, kindles the baneful and
fiery incentive to vice.

CHAPTER VI: That the mind is not intoxicated by wine alone.

   THE belly when filled with all kinds of food gives birth to seeds of
wantonness, nor can the mind, when choked with the weight of food, keep the
guidance and government of the thoughts. For not only is drunkenness  with
wine wont to intoxicate the mind, but excess of all kinds of food makes it
weak and uncertain, and robs it of all its power of pure and clear
contemplation. The cause of the overthrow and wantonness of Sodom was not
drunkenness through wine, but fulness of bread. Hear the Lord rebuking
Jerusalem through the prophet. "For how did thy sister Sodom sin, except in
that she ate her bread in fulness and abundance?"(5) And because through
fulness of bread they were inflamed with uncontrollable lust of the flesh,
they were burnt up by the judgment of God with fire and brimstone from
heaven. But if excess of bread alone drove them to such a headlong downfall
into sin through the vice of satiety, what shall we think of those who with
a vigorous body dare to partake of meat and wine with unbounded licence,
taking not just what their bodily frailty demands, but what the eager
desire of the mind suggests.

CHAPTER VII: How bodily weakness need not interfere with purity of heart.

   BODILY weakness is no hindrance to purity of heart, if only so much
food is taken as the bodily weakness requires, and not what pleasure asks
for. It is easier to find men who altogether abstain from the more
fattening kinds of foods than men who make a moderate use of what is
allowed to our necessities; and men who deny themselves everything out of
love of continence than men who taking food on the plea of weakness
preserve the due measure of what is sufficient.(1) For bodily weakness has
its glory of self-restraint, where though food is permitted to the failing
body, a man deprives himself of his refreshment. although he needs it, and
only indulges in just so much food as the strict judgment of temperance
decides to be sufficient for the necessities of life, and not what the
longing appetite asks for. The more delicate foods, as they conduce to
bodily health, so they need not destroy the purity of chastity, if they are
taken in moderation. For whatever strength(2) is gained by partaking of
them is used up in the toil and waste of car. Wherefore as no state of life
can be deprived of the virtue of abstinence, so to none is the crown of
perfection denied.

CHAPTER VIII: How food should be taken with regard to the aim at perfect
continence.(3)

   AND so it is a very true and most excellent saying of the Fathers that
the right method of fasting and abstinence lies in the measure of
moderation and bodily chastening; and that this is the aim of perfect
virtue for all alike, viz.: that though we are still forced to desire it,
yet we should exercise self-restraint in the matter of the food, which we
are obliged to take owing to the necessity of supporting the body. For even
if one is weak in body, he can attain to a perfect virtue and one equal to
that of those who are thoroughly strong and healthy, if with firmness of
mind he keeps a check upon the desires and lusts which are not due to
weakness of the flesh. For the Apostle says: "And take not care for the
flesh in its lusts."(4) He does not forbid care for it in every respect:
but says that care is not to be taken in regard to its desires and lusts.
He cuts away the luxurious fondness for the flesh: he does not exclude the
control necessary for life: he does the former, lest through pampering the
flesh we should be involved in dangerous entanglements of the desires; the
latter lest the body should be injured by our fault and unable to fulfil
its spiritual and necessary duties.

CHAPTER IX: Of the, measure of the chastisement to be undertaken, and the
remedy of fasting.

   THE perfection then of abstinence is not to be gathered from
calculations of time alone, nor only from the quality of the food; but
beyond everything from the judgment of conscience. For each one should
impose such a sparing diet on himself as the battle of his bodily struggle
may require. The canonical observance of fasts is indeed valuable and by
all means to be kept. But unless this is followed by a temperate partaking
of food, one will not be able to arrive at the goal of perfection. For the
abstinence of prolonged fasts--where repletion of body follows--produces
weariness for a time rather than purity and chastity. Perfection of mind
indeed depends upon the abstinence of the belly. He has no lasting purity
and chastity, who is not contented always to keep to a well-balanced and
temperate diet. Fasting, although severe, yet if unnecessary relaxation
follows, is rendered useless, and presently leads to the vice of gluttony.
A reasonable supply of food partaken of daily with moderation, is better
than a severe and long fast at intervals. Excessive fasting has been known
not only to undermine the constancy of the mind, but also to weaken the
power of prayers through sheer weariness of body.

CHAPTER X: That abstinence from food is not of itself sufficient for
preservation of bodily and mental purity.

   IN order to preserve the mind and body in a perfect condition
abstinence from food is not alone sufficient: unless the other virtues of
the mind as well are joined to it. And so humility must first be learned by
the virtue of obedience, and grinding toil(1) and bodily exhaustion. The
possession of money must not only be avoided, but the desire for it must be
l utterly rooted out. For it is not enough not to possess it,--a thing
which comes to many as a matter of necessity: but we ought, if by chance it
is offered, not even to admit the wish to have it. The madness of anger
should be controlled; the downcast look of dejection be overcome; vainglory
should be despised, the disdainfulness of pride trampled under foot, and
the shifting and wandering thoughts of the mind restrained by continual
recollection of God. And the slippery wanderings of our heart should be
brought back again to the contemplation of God as often as our crafty
enemy, in his endeavour to lead away the mind a captive from this
consideration, creeps into the innermost recesses of the heart.

CHAPTER XI: That bodily lusts are not extinguished except by the entire
rooting out of vice.

   FOR it is an impossibility that the fiery motions of the body can be
extinguished, before the incentives of the other chief vices are utterly
rooted out: concerning which we will speak in their proper place, if God
permits, separately, in different books. But now we have to deal with
Gluttony, that is the desire of the palate, against which our first battle
is. He then will never be able to check the motions of a burning lust, who
cannot restrain the desires of the appetite. The chastity of the inner man
is shown by the perfection of this virtue. For you will never feel sure
that he can strive against the opposition of a stronger enemy, whom you
have seen overcome by weaker ones in a higher conflict. For of all virtues
the nature is but one and the same, although they appear to be divided into
many different kinds and names: just as there is but one substance of gold,
although it may seem to be distributed through many different kinds of
jewelry according to the skill of the goldsmith. And so he is proved to
possess no virtue perfectly, who is known to have broken down in some part
of them. For how can we believe that that man has extinguished the burning
heats of concupiscence (which are kindled not only by bodily incitement but
by vice of the mind), who could not assuage the sharp stings of anger which
break out from intemperance of heart alone? Or how can we think that he has
repressed the wanton desires of the flesh and spirit, who has not been able
to conquer the simple fault of pride? Or how can we believe that one has
trampled under foot a wantonness which is ingrained in the flesh, who has
not been able to disown the love of money, which is something external and
outside our own substance? In what way will he triumph in the war of flesh
and spirit, who has not been man enough to cure the disease of dejection?
However great a city may be protected by the height of its walls and the
strength of its closed gates, yet it is laid waste by the giving up of one
postern however small. For what difference does it make whether a dangerous
foe makes his way into the heart of the city over high walls, and through
the wide spaces of the gate, or through secret and narrow passages?

CHAPTER XII: That in our spiritual contest we ought to draw an example from
the carnal contests.

   "ONE who strives. in the games is not crowned unless he has contended
lawfully."(2) One who wants to extinguish the natural desires of the flesh,
should first hasten to overcome those vices whose seat is outside our
nature. For if we desire to make trial of the force of the Apostle's
saying, we ought first to learn what are the laws and what the discipline
of the world's contest, so that finally by a comparison with these, we may
be able to know what the blessed Apostle meant to teach to us who are
striving in a spiritual contest by this illustration. For in these
conflicts, which, as the same Apostle says, hold out "a corruptible
crown"(3) to the victors, this rule is kept, that he who aims at preparing
himself for the crown of glory, which is embellished with the privilege of
exemption, and who is anxious to enter the highest struggle in the contest,
should first in the Olympic and Pythian games give evidence of his
abilities as a youth, and his strength in its first beginnings; since in
these the younger men who want to practise this training are tested as to
whether they deserve or ought to be admitted to it, by the judgment both of
the president of the games and of the whole multitude. And when any one has
been carefully tested, and has first been proved to be stained by no infamy
of life, and then has been adjudged not ignoble through the yoke of
slavery, and for this reason unworthy to be admitted to this training and
to the company of those who practise it, and when thirdly he produces
sufficient evidence of his ability and prowess and by striving with the
younger men and his own compeers has shown both his skill and valour as a
youth, and going forward from the contests of boys has been by the scrutiny
of the president permitted to mix with full-grown men and those of approved
experience, and has not only shown himself their equal in valour by
constant striving with them, but has also many a time carried off the prize
of victory among them, then at last he is allowed to approach the most
illustrious conflict of the games, permission to contend in which is
granted to none but victors and those who are decked with many crowns and
prizes. If we understand this illustration from a carnal contest, we ought
by a comparison with it to know what is the system and method of our
spiritual conflict as well.

CHAPTER XIII: That we cannot enter the battle of the inner man unless we
have been set free from the vice of gluttony.

   WE also ought first to give evidence of our freedom from subjection to
the flesh. For "of whom a man is overcome, of the same is he the slave."(1)
And "every one that doeth sin slave of sin."(2)And when the scrutiny is the
of the president of the contest finds that we are stained by no infamy of
disgraceful lust, and when we are judged by him not to be slaves of the
flesh, and ignoble and unworthy of the Olympic struggle against our vices,
then we shall be able to enter the lists against our equals, that is the
lusts of the flesh and the motions and disturbances of the soul. For it is
impossible for a full belly to make trial of the combat of the inner man:
nor is he worthy to be tried in harder battles, who can be overcome in a
slight skirmish.

CHAPTER XIV: How gluttonous desires can be overcome.

   FIRST then we must trample under foot gluttonous desires, and to this
end the mind must be reduced not only by fasting, but also by vigils, by
reading, and by frequent compunction of heart for those things in which
perhaps it recollects that it has been deceived or overcome, sighing at one
time with horror at sin, at another time inflamed with the desire of
perfection and saintliness: until it is fully occupied and possessed by
such cares and meditations, and recognizes the participation of food to be
not so much a concession to pleasure, as a burden laid upon it; and
considers it to be rather a necessity for the body than anything desirable
for the soul. And, preserved by this zeal of mind and continual
compunction, we shall beat down the wantonness of the flesh (which becomes
more proud and haughty by being fomented with food) and its dangerous
incitement, and so by the copiousness of our tears and the weeping of our
heart we shall succeed in extinguishing the fiery furnace of our body,
which is kindled by the Babylonish king(3) who continually furnishes us
with opportunities for sin, and vices with which we burn more fiercely,
instead of naphtha and pitch--until, through the grace of God, instilled
like dew by His Spirit in our hearts, the heats of fleshly lusts can be
altogether deadened. This then is our first contest, this is as it were our
first trial in the Olympic games, to extinguish the desires of the palate
and the belly by the longing for perfection. On which account we must not
only trample down all unnecessary desire for food by the contemplation of
the virtues, but also must take what is necessary for the  support of
nature, not without anxiety of heart, as if it were opposed to chastity.
And so at length we may enter on the course of our life, so that there may
be no time in which we feel that we are recalled from our spiritual
studies, further than when we are obliged by the weakness of the body to
descend for the needful care of it. And when we are subjected to this
necessity--of attending to the wants of life rather than the desires, of
the soul--we should hasten to withdraw as quickly as possible from it, as
if it kept us back from really health-giving studies. For we cannot
possibly scorn the gratification of food presented to us, unless the mind
is fixed on the contemplation of divine things, and is the rather entranced
with the love of virtue and the delight of things celestial. And so a man
will despise all things present as transitory, when he has securely fixed
his mental gaze on, those things which are immovable and eternal, and
already contemplates in heart--though still in the flesh--the blessedness
of his future life.

CHAPTER XV: How a monk must always be eager to preserve his purity of
heart.

   IT is like the case when one endeavours to strike some mighty prize of
virtue on high. pointed out by some very small mark; with the keenest
eyesight he points the aim of his dart, knowing that large rewards of glory
and prizes depend on his hitting it; and he turns away his gaze from every
other consideration, and must direct it thither, where he sees that the
reward and prize is placed, because he would be sure to lose the prize of
his skill and the reward of his prowess if the keenness of his gaze should
be diverted ever so little.(1)

CHAPTER XVI: How, after the fashion of the Olympic games, a monk should not
attempt spiritual conflicts unless he has won battles over the flesh.

   AND so when the desires of the belly and of the palate have been by
these considerations overcome, and when we have been declared, as in the
Olympic contests, neither slaves of the flesh nor infamous through the
brand of sin, we shall be adjudged to be worthy of the contest in higher
struggles as well, and, leaving behind lessons of this kind, may be
believed capable of entering the lists against spiritual wickednesses,
against which only victors and those who are allowed to contend in a
spiritual conflict are deemed worthy to struggle. For this is so to speak a
most solid foundation of all the conflicts, viz.: that in the first
instance the impulses of carnal desires should be destroyed. For no one can
lawfully strive unless his own flesh has been overcome. And one who does
not strive lawfully certainly cannot take a share in the contest, nor win a
crown of glory and the grace of victory. But if we have been overcome in
this battle, having been proved as it were slaves of carnal lusts, and thus
displaying the tokens neither of freedom nor of strength, we shall be
straightway repulsed from the conflicts with spiritual hosts, as unworthy
and as slaves, with every mark of confusion. For "every one that doeth sin
is the servant of sin."(2) And this will be addressed to us by the blessed
Apostle, together with those among whom fornication is named. "Temptation
does not overtake you, except such as is human."(3) For if we do not seek
for strength of mind(4) we shall not deserve to make trial of severer
contest against wickedness on high, if we have been unable to subdue our
weak flesh which resists the spirit. And some not understanding this
testimony of the Apostle, have read the subjunctive instead of the
indicative mood, i.e. , "Let no temptation overcome you, except such as is
human."(5) But it is clear that it is rather said by him with the meaning
not of a wish but of a declaration or rebuke.

CHAPTER XVII: That the foundation and basis of the spiritual combat must be
laid in the struggle against gluttony.

   WOULD you like to hear a true athlete of Christ striving according to
the rules and laws of the conflict? "I," said he, "so run, not as
uncertainly; I so fight, not as one that beateth the air: but I chastise my
body and bring it into subjection, lest by any means when I have preached
to others I myself should be a castaway."(6) You see how he made the chief
part of the struggle depend upon himself, that is upon his flesh, as if on
a most sure foundation, and placed the result of the battle simply in the
chastisement of the flesh and the subjection of his body. "I then so run
not as uncertainly." He does not run uncertainly, because,(7) looking to
the heavenly Jerusalem, he has a mark set, towards which his heart is
swiftly directed without swerving. He does not run uncertainly, because,
"forgetting those things which are behind, he reaches forth to those that
are before, pressing towards the mark for the prize of the high calling of
God in Christ Jesus,"(8) whither he ever directs his mental gaze, and
hastening towards it with all speed(9) of heart, proclaims with confidence,
"I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
faith."(1) And because he knows he has run unweariedly "after the odour of
the ointment" a of Christ with ready devotion of heart, and has won the
battle of the spiritual combat by the chastisement of the flesh, he boldly
concludes and says, "Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of
righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to me in that
day." And that e might open up to us also a like hope of reward, if we
desire to imitate him in the struggle of his course, he added: "But not to
me only, but to all also who love His coming;"(3)  declaring that we shall
be sharers of his crown in the day of judgment, if we love the coming of
Christ--not that one only which will be manifest to men even against their
will; but also this one which daily comes to pass in holy souls--and if we
gain the victory in the fight by chastising the body. And of this coming it
is that the Lord speaks in the Gospel. "I," says He, "and my Father will
come to him, and will make our abode with him."(4) And again: "Behold, I
stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice and open the gate, I
will come in to him and will sup with him, and he with me."(5)

CHAPTER XVIII: Of the number of different conflicts and victories through
which the blessed Apostle ascended to the crown of the highest

   BUT he does not mean that he has only finished the contest of a race
when he says "I so run, not as uncertainly" (a phrase which has more
particularly to do with the intention of the mind and fervour of his
spirit, in which he followed Christ with all zeal, crying out with the
Bride, "We will run after thee for the odour of thine ointments;"(6) and
again, "My soul cleaveth unto thee:"(7) but he also testifies that he has
conquered in another kind of contest, saying, "So fight I, not as one that
beateth the air, but I chastise my body and bring it into subjection." And
this properly has to do with the pains of abstinence, and bodily fasting
and affliction of the flesh: as he means by this that he is a vigorous
bruiser of his own flesh, and points out that not in vain has he planted
his blows of Continence against it; but that he has gained a battle triumph
by mortifying his own body; for when it is chastised with the blows of
continence and struck down with the boxing-gloves of fasting, he has
secured for his victorious spirit the crown of immortality and the prize of
incorruption. You see the orthodox method of the contest, and consider the
issue of spiritual combats: how the athlete of Christ having gained a
victory over the rebellious flesh, having cast it as it were under his
feet, is carried forward as triumphing on high. And therefore "he does not
run uncertainly," because he trusts that he will forthwith enter the holy
city, the heavenly Jerusalem. He "so fights," that is with fasts and
humiliation of the flesh, "not as one that beateth the air," that is,
striking into space with blows of continence, through which he struck not
the empty air, but those spirits who inhabit it, by the chastisement of his
body. For one who says "not as one that beateth the air," shows that he
strikes--not empty and void air, but certain beings in the air. And because
he had overcome in this kind of contest, and marched on enriched with the
rewards of many crowns, not undeservedly does he begin to enter the lists
against still more powerful foes, and having triumphed over his former
rivals, he boldly makes proclamation and says, "Now our striving is not
against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers,
against world-rulers of this darkness, against spiritual wickedness in
heavenly places."(8)

CHAPTER XIX: That the athlete of Christ, so long as he is in the body, is
never without a battle.

   THE athlete of Christ, as long as he is in the body, is never in want
of a victory to be gained in contests: but in proportion as he grows by
triumphant successes, so does a severer kind of struggle confront him. For
when the flesh is subdued and conquered, what swarms of foes, what hosts of
enemies are incited by his triumphs and rise up against the victorious
soldier of Christ! for fear lest in the ease of peace the soldier of Christ
might relax his efforts and begin to forget the glorious struggles of his
contests, and be rendered slack through the idleness which is caused by
immunity from danger, and be cheated of the reward of his prizes and the
recompense of his triumphs. And so if we want to rise with ever-growing
virtue to these stages of triumph we ought also in the same way to enter
the lists of battle and begin by saying with the Apostle: "I so fight, not
as one that beateth the air, but I chastise my body and bring it into
subjection,"(1) that when this conflict is ended we may once more be able
to say with him: "we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against
principalities, against powers, against world-rulers of this darkness,
against spiritual wickedness in heavenly places."(2) For otherwise we
cannot possibly join battle with them nor deserve to make trial of
spiritual combats if we are baffled in a carnal contest, and smitten down
in a struggle with the belly: and deservedly will it be said of us by the
Apostle in the language of blame: "Temptation does not overtake you, except
what is common to man."(3)

CHAPTER XX: How a monk should not overstep the proper hours for taking
food, if he wants to proceed to the struggle of interior conflicts.

   A MONK therefore who wants to proceed to the struggle of interior
conflicts should lay down this as a precaution for himself to begin with:
viz.: that he will not in any case allow himself to be overcome by any
delicacies, or take anything to eat or drink before the fast(4) is over and
the proper hour for refreshment has come, outside meal times;(5) nor, when
the meal is over, will he allow himself to take a morsel however small; and
likewise that he  will observe the canonical time and measure of sleep. For
that self- indulgence must be cut off in the same way that the sin of
unchastity has to be rooted out. For if a man is unable to check the
unnecessary desires of the appetite how will he be able to extinguish the
fire of carnal lust? And if a man is not able to control passions, which
are openly manifest and are but small, how will he be able with temperate
discretion to fight against those which are secret, and excite him, when
none are there to see? And therefore strength of mind is tested in separate
impulses and in any sort of passion: and if it is overcome in the case of
very small and manifest desires, how it will endure in those that are
really great and powerful and hidden, each man's conscience must witness
for himself.

CHAPTER XXI: Of the inward peace of a monk, and of spiritual abstinence;

   For it is not an external enemy whom we have to dread. Our foe is shut
up within ourselves: an internal warfare is daily waged by us: and if we
are victorious in this, all external things will be made weak, and
everything will be made peaceful and subdued for the soldier of Christ. We
shall have no external enemy to fear, if what is within is overcome and
subdued to the spirit. And let us not believe that that external fast from
visible food alone can possibly be sufficient for perfection of heart and
purity of body unless with it there has also been united a fast of the
soul. For the soul also has its foods which are harmful, fattened on which,
even without superfluity of meats, it is involved in a downfall of
wantonness. Slander is its food, and indeed one that is very dear to it. A
burst of anger also is its food, even if it be a very slight one; yet
supplying it with miserable food for an hour, and destroying it as well
with its deadly savour. Envy is a food of the mind, corrupting it with its
poisonous juices and never ceasing to make it wretched and miserable at the
prosperity and success of another. Kenodoxia, i.e., vainglory is its food,
which gratifies it with a delicious meal for a time; but afterwards strips
it clear and bare of all virtue, and dismisses it barren and void of all
spiritual fruit, so that it makes it not only lose the rewards of huge
labours, but also makes it incur heavier punishments. All lust and shifty
wanderings of heart are a sort of food for the soul, nourishing it on
harmful meats, but leaving it afterwards without share of the heavenly
bread and of really solid food. If then, with all the powers we have, we
abstain from these in a most holy fast, our observance of the bodily fast
will be both useful and profitable. For labour of the flesh, when joined
with contrition of the spirit, will produce a sacrifice that is most
acceptable to  God, and a worthy shrine of holiness in the pure and
undefiled inmost chambers of the heart. But if, while fasting as far as the
body is concerned, we are entangled in the most dangerous vices of the
soul, our humiliation of the flesh will do us no good whatever, while the
most precious part of us is defiled: since we go wrong through that
substance by virtue of which we are made a shrine of the Holy Ghost. For it
is not so much the corruptible flesh as the clean heart, which is made a
shrine for God, and a temple of the Holy Ghost. We ought therefore,
whenever the outward man fasts, to restrain the inner man as well from food
which is bad for him: that inner man, namely, which  the blessed Apostle
above all urges us to present pure before God, that it may be found worthy
to receive Christ as a guest within, saying "that in the inner man Christ
may dwell in your hearts through faith. "(1)

CHAPTER XXII: That we should for this reason practise bodily abstinence
that we may by it attain to a spiritual fast.

   AND So we know that we ought therefore to bestow attention on bodily
abstinence, that we may by this fasting attain to purity of heart.
Otherwise our labours will be spent in vain, if we endure this without
weariness, in contemplating the end, but are unable to reach the end for
which we have endured such trials; and it would have been better to have
abstained from the forbidden foods of the soul than to have fasted with the
body from things indifferent and harmless, for in the case of these latter
there is a simple and harmless reception of a creature of God, which in
itself has nothing wrong about it: but in the case of the former there is
at the very first a dangerous tendency to devour the brethren; of which it
is said, "Do not love backbiting lest thou be rooted out."(2) And
concerning anger and jealousy the blessed Job says: "For anger slayeth a
fool, and envy killeth a child."(3) And at the same time it should be
noticed that he who is angered is set down as a fool; and he who is
jealous, as a child. For the former is not undeservedly considered a fool,
since of his own accord he brings death upon himself, being goaded by the
stings of anger; and the latter, while he is envious, proves that he is a
child and a minor, for while he envies another he shows that the one at
whose prosperity he is vexed, is greater than he.

CHAPTER XXIII: What should be the character of the monk's food.

   We should then choose for our food, not only that which moderates the
heat of burning lust, and avoids kindling it; but what is easily got ready,
and what is recommended by its cheapness, and is suitable to the life of
the brethren and their common use. For the nature of gluttony is threefold:
first, there is that which forces us to anticipate the proper hour for a
meal, next that which delights in stuffing the stomach, and gorging all
kinds of food; thirdly, that which takes pleasure in more refined and
delicate feasting. And so against it a monk should observe a threefold
watch: first, he should wait till the proper time for breaking the fast;
secondly, he should not give way to gorging; thirdly, he should be
contented with any of the commoner sorts of food. For anything that is
taken over and above what is customary and the common use of all, is
branded by the ancient tradition of the fathers as defiled with the sin of
vanity and glorying and ostentation. Nor of those whom   we have seen to be
deservedly eminent for learning and discretion, or whom the grace of Christ
has singled out as shining lights for every one to imitate, have we known
any who have abstained from eating bread which is accounted cheap and
easily to be obtained among them; nor have we seen that any one who has
rejected this rule and given up the use of bread and taken to a diet of
beans  or herbs or fruits, has been reckoned among the most esteemed, or
even acquired the grace of knowledge and discretion. For not only do they
lay it down that a monk ought not to ask for foods which are not customary
for others, lest his mode of life should be exposed publicly to all and
rendered vain and idle and so be destroyed by the disease of vanity; but
they insist that the common chastening discipline of fasts ought not
lightly to be disclosed to any one, but as far as possible concealed and
kept secret. But when any of the brethren arrive they rule that we ought to
show the virtues of kindness and charity instead of observing a severe
abstinence and our strict daily rule: nor should we consider what our own
wishes and profit or the ardour of our desires may require, but set before
us and gladly fulfil whatever the refreshment of the guest, or his weakness
may demand from us.

CHAPTER XXIV: How in Egypt we saw that the daily fast was broken without
scruple on our arrival.

   When we had come from the region of Syria and had sought the province
of Egypt, in our desire to learn the rules of the Elders, we were
astonished at the alacrity of heart with which we were there received so
that no rule forbidding refreshment till the appointed hour of the fast was
over was observed, such as we had been brought up to observe in the
monasteries of Palestine; but except in the case of the regular days,
Wednesdays and Fridays, wherever we went the daily fast(1) was broken:(2)
and when we asked why the daily fast was thus ignored by them without
scruple one of the eiders replied: "The opportunity for fasting is always
with me. But as I am going to conduct you on your way, I cannot always keep
you with me. And a fast, although it is useful and advisable, is yet a
free-will offering. But the exigencies of a command require the fulfilment
of a work of charity. And so receiving Christ in you I ought to refresh Him
but when I have sent you on your way I shall be able to balance the
hospitality offered for His sake by a stricter fast on my own account. For
'the children of the bridegroom cannot fast while the bridegroom is with
them:'(3) but when he has departed, then they will rightly fast."

CHAPTER XXV: Of the abstinence of one old man who took food six times so
sparingly that he was still hungry.

   WHEN one of the elders was pressing me to eat a little more as I was
taking refreshment, and I said that I could not, he replied: "I have
already laid my table six times for different brethren who had arrived,
and, pressing each of them, I partook of food with him, and am still
hungry, and do you, who now partake of refreshment for the first time, say
that you cannot eat any more?"

CHAPTER XXVI: Of another old man, who never partook of food alone in his
cell.

   WE have seen another who lived alone, who declared that he had never
enjoyed food by himself alone, but that even if for five days running none
of the brethren came to his cell he constantly put off taking food until on
Saturday or Sunday he went to church for service and found some stranger
whom he brought home at once to his cell, and together with him partook of
refreshment for the body not so much by reason of his own needs, as for the
sake of kindness and on his brother's account. And so as they know that the
daily fast is broken without scruple on the arrival of brethren, when they
leave, they compensate for the refreshment which has been enjoyed on their
account by a greater abstinence, and sternly make up for the reception of
even a very little food by a severer chastisement not only as regards
bread, but also by lessening their usual amount of sleep.

CHAPTER XXVII: What the two Abbots Paesius and John said of the fruits of
their zeal.

   WHEN the aged John, who was superior of a large monastery and of a
quantity of brethren, had come to visit the aged Paesius, who was living in
a vast desert, and had been asked of him as of a very old friend, what he
had done in all the forty years in which he had been separated from him and
had scarcely ever been disturbed in his solitude by the brethren: "Never,"
said he, "has the sun seen me eating," "nor me angry," said the other.(4)

CHAPTER XXVIII: The lesson and example which Abbot John when dying left to
his disciples.

WHEN the same old man, as one who was readily going to depart to his own,
was lying at his last gasp, and the brethren were standing round, they
implored and intreated that he would leave them, as a sort of legacy, some
special charge by which they could attain to the height of perfection, the
more easily from the brevity of the charge: he sighed and said, "I never
did my own will, nor taught any one what I had not first done myself."

CHAPTER XXIX: Of Abbot Machetes, who never slept during the spiritual
conferences, but    always went to sleep during earthly tales.

   WE knew an old man, Machetes by name, who lived at a distance from the
crowds of the brethren, and obtained by his daily prayers this grace from
the Lord, that as often as a spiritual conference was held, whether by day
or by night, he never was at all overcome by sleep: but if any one tried to
introduce a word of detraction, or idle talk, he dropped off to sleep at
once as if the poison of slander could not possibly penetrate to pollute
his ears.

CHAPTER XXX: A saying of the same old man about not judging any one.

   The same old man, when he was teaching us that no one ought to judge
another, remarked that there were three points on which he had charged and
rebuked the brethren, viz.: because some allowed their uvula to be cut off,
or kept a cloak in their cell, or blessed oil and gave it to those dwelling
in the world who asked for it: and he said that he had done all these
things himself. For having contracted some malady of the uvula, I wasted
away, said he, for so long, through its weakness, that at last I was driven
by stress of the pain, and by the persuasion of all the elders, to allow it
to be cut off. And I was forced too by reason of this illness, to keep a
cloak. And I was also compelled to bless oil and give it to those who
prayed for it--a thing which I execrated above everything, since that I
thought that it proceeded from great presumption of heart--when suddenly
many who were living in the world surrounded me, so that I could not
possibly escape them in any other way, had they not extorted from me with
no small violence, and entreaties that I would lay my hand on a vessel
offered by them, and sign it with the sign of the cross: and so believing
that they had secured blessed oil, at last they let me go. And by these
things I plainly discovered that a monk was in the same case and entangled
in the same faults for which he had ventured to judge others. Each one
therefore ought only to judge himself, and to be on the watch, with care
and circumspection in all things not to judge the life and conduct of
others in accordance with the Apostle's charge, "But thou, why dost thou
judge thy brother? to his own master he standeth or falleth." And this:
"Judge not, that ye be not judged. For with what judgment ye judge, ye
shall be judged."(1) For besides the reason of Which we have spoken, it is
for this cause also dangerous to judge concerning others because in those
matters in which we are offended--as we do not know the need or the reason
for which they are really acting either rightly in the sight of God, or at
any rate in a pardonable manner--we are found to have judged them rashly
and in this commit no light sin, by forming an opinion of our brethren
different from what we ought.

CHAPTER XXXI: The same old man's rebuke when he saw how the brethren went
to sleep  during the spiritual conferences, and woke up when some idle
story was told.

   The same old man made clear by this proof that it was the devil who
encouraged idle tales, and showed himself always as the enemy of spiritual
conferences. For when he was discoursing to some of the brethren on
necessary matters and spiritual things, and saw that they were weighed down
with a sound slumber, and could not drive away the weight of sleep from
their eyes, he suddenly introduced an idle tale. And when he saw that at
once they woke up, delighted with it, and pricked up their ears, he groaned
and said, "Up till now we were speaking of celestial things and all your
eyes were overpowered with a sound slumber; but as soon as an idle tale was
introduced, we all woke up and shook off the drowsiness of sleep which had
overcome us. And from this therefore consider who is the enemy of that
spiritual conference, and who has shown himself the suggester of that
useless and carnal talk. For it is most evidently shown that it is he who,
rejoicing in  evil, never ceases to encourage the latter and  to oppose the
former."

CHAPTER XXXII: Of the letters which were burnt without being read.

   Nor do I think it less needful to relate this act of a brother who was
intent on purity of heart, and extremely anxious with regard to the
contemplation of things divine. When after an interval of fifteen years a
large number of letters had been brought to him from his father and mother
and many friends in the province of Pontus, he received the huge packet of
letters, and turning over the matter in his own mind for some time, "What
thoughts," said he, "will the reading of these suggest to me, which will
incite me either to senseless joy or to useless sadness! for how many days
will they draw off the attention of my heart from the contemplation I have
set before me, by the recollection of those who wrote them! How long will
it take for the disturbance of mind thus created to be calmed, and what an
effort will it cost for that former state of peacefulness to be restored,
if the mind is once moved by the sympathy of the letters, and by recalling
the words and looks of those whom it has left for so long begins once more
in thought and spirit to revisit them, to dwell among them and to be with
them. And it will be of no use to have forsaken them in the body, if one
begins to look on them with the heart, and readmits and revives that memory
which on renouncing this world every one gave up, as if he were dead.
Turning this over in his mind, he determined not only not to read a single
letter, but not even to open the packet, for fear lest, at the sight of the
names of the writers, or on recalling their appearance, the purpose of his
spirit might give way. And so he threw it into the fire to be burnt, all
tied up just as he had received it, crying, "Away, O ye thoughts of my
home, be ye burnt up, and try no further to recall me to those things from
which I have fled."

CHAPTER XXXIII: Of the solution of a question which Abbot Theodore obtained
by prayer.

   WE knew also Abbot Theodore,(1) a man gifted with the utmost holiness
and with perfect knowledge not only in practical life, but also in
understanding the Scriptures, which he had not acquired so much by study
and reading, or worldly education, as by purity of heart alone: since he
could with difficulty understand and speak but a very few words of the
Greek language. This man when he was seeking an explanation of some most
difficult question, continued without ceasing for seven days and nights in
prayer until he discovered by a revelation from the Lord the solution of
the question propounded.

CHAPTER XXXIV: Of the saying of the same old man, through which he taught
by what efforts a monk can acquire a knowledge of the Scriptures.

   This man therefore, when some of the brethren Were wondering at the
splendid light of his knowledge and were asking of him some meanings of
Scripture, said that a monk who wanted to acquire a knowledge of the
Scriptures ought not to spend his labour on the works of commentators, but
rather to keep all the efforts of his mind and intentions of his   heart
set on purifying himself from carnal vices: for when these are driven out,
at once the eyes of the heart, as if the veil of the passions were removed,
will begin as it were naturally to gaze on the mysteries(2) of Scripture:
since they were not declared to us by the grace of the Holy Spirit in order
that they should remain unknown and obscure; but they are rendered obscure
by our fault, as the veil of our sins covers the eyes of the heart, and
when these are restored to their natural state of health, the mere reading
of Holy Scripture is by itself amply sufficient for beholding the true
knowledge, nor do they need the aid of commentators, just as these eyes of
flesh need no man's teaching how to see, provided that they are free from
dimness or the darkness of blindness. For this reason there have arisen so
great differences and mistakes among commentators because most of them,
paying no sort of attention towards purifying the mind, rush into the work
of interpreting the Scriptures, and in proportion to the density or
impurity of their heart form opinions that are at variance with and
contrary to each other's and to the faith, and so are unable to take in the
light of truth.

CHAPTER. XXXV: A rebuke of the same old man, when he had come to my cell in
the middle of the night.

   The same Theodore came unexpectedly to my cell in the dead of night,
with paternal inquisitiveness seeking what I--an unformed anchorite as I
was--might be doing by myself; and when he had found me there already, as I
had finished my vesper office, beginning to refresh my wearied body, and
lying down on a mat, he sighed from the bottom of his heart, and calling me
by name, said, "How many, O John, are at this hour communing with God, and
embracing Him, and detaining Him with them, while you are deprived of so
great light, enfeebled as you are with lazy sleep!"

   And since the virtues of the fathers and the grace given to them have
tempted us to turn aside to a story like this, I think it well to record in
this volume a noteworthy deed of charity, which we experienced from the
kindness of that most excellent man Archebius, that the purity of
continence grafted on to a work of charity may more readily shine forth,
being embellished with a pleasing variety.

For the duty of fasting is then rendered acceptable to God, when it is made
perfect by the fruits of charity.

CHAPTER XXXVI: A description of the desert in Diolcos, where the anchorites
live.

   And so when we had come, while still beginners, from the monasteries of
Palestine, to a city of Egypt called Diolcos,(1) and were contemplating a
large number of monks bound by the discipline of the Coenobium, and trained
in that excellent system of monasteries, which is also the earliest, we
were also eager to see with all wisdom of heart another system as well
which is still better, viz.: that of the anchorites, as we were incited
thereto by the praises of it by everybody. For these men, having first
lived for a very long time in Coenobia, and having diligently learnt all
the rules of patience and discretion, and acquired the virtues of humility
and renunciation, and having perfectly overcome all their faults, in order
to engage in most fearful conflicts with devils, penetrate the deepest
recesses of the desert. Finding then that men of this sort were living near
the river Nile in a place which is surrounded on one side by the same
river, on the other by the expanse of the sea, and forms an island,
habitable by none but monks seeking such recesses, since the saltness of
the soil and dryness of the sand make it unfit for any cultivation--to
these men, I say, we eagerly hastened, and were beyond measure astonished
at their labours which they endure in the contemplation of the virtues and
their love of solitude. For they are hampered by such a scarcity even of
water that the care and exactness with which they portion it out is such as
no miser would bestow in preserving and hoarding the most precious kind of
wine. For they carry it three miles or even further from the bed of the
above-mentioned river, for all necessary purposes; and the distance, great
as it is, with sandy mountains in between, is doubled by the very great
difficulty of the task.

CHAPTER XXXVII: Of the cells which Abbot Archebius gave up to us with their
furniture.

   HAVING then seen this, as we were inflamed with the desire of imitating
them, the aforesaid Archebius, the most famous among them for the grace of
kindness, drew us into his cell, and having discovered our desire,
pretended that he wanted to leave the place, and to offer his cell to us,
as if he were going away, declaring that he would have done it, even if we
had not come. And we, inflamed with the desire of remaining there, and
putting unhesitating faith in the assertions of so great a man, willingly
agreed to this, and took over his cell with all its furniture and
belongings. And so having succeeded in his pious fraud, he left the place
for a few days in which to procure the means for constructing a cell, and
after this returned, and with the utmost labour built another cell for
himself. And after some little time, when some other brethren came inflamed
with the same desire to stay there, he deceived them by a similar
charitable falsehood, and gave this one up with everything pertaining to
it. But he, unweariedly persevering in his act of charity, built for
himself a third cell to dwell in.(2)

CHAPTER XXXVIII: The same Archebius paid a debt of his mother's by the
labour of his own hands.

   IT seems to me worth while to hand down another charitable act of the
same man, that the monks of our land may be taught by the example of one
and the same man to maintain not only a rigorous continence, but also the
most unfeigned affection of love. For he, sprung from no ignoble family,
while yet a child, scorning the love of this world and of his kinsfolk,
fled to the monastery which is  nearly four miles distant from the
aforementioned town, where he so passed all his life, that never once
throughout the whole of fifty years did he enter or see the village from
which he had come, nor even look upon the face of any woman, not even his
own mother. In the mean while his father was overtaken by death, and left a
debt of a hundred solidi. And though he himself was entirely free from all
annoyances, since he had been disinherited of all his father's property,
yet he found that his mother was excessively annoyed by the creditors. Then
he through consideration of duty somewhat moderated that gospel severity
through which formerly, while his parents were prosperous, he did not
recognize that he possessed a father or mother on earth; and acknowledged
that he had a mother, and hastened to relieve her in her distress, without
relaxing anything of the austerity he had set himself. For remaining within
the cloister of the monastery he asked that the task of his usual work
might be trebled. And there for a whole year toiling night and day alike he
paid to the creditors the due measure of the debt secured by his toil and
labour, and relieved his mother from all annoyance and anxiety; ridding her
of the burden of the debt in such a way as not to suffer aught of the
severity he had set himself to be diminished on plea of duteous necessity.
Thus did he preserve his wonted austerities, without ever denying to his
mother's heart the work which duty demanded, as, though he had formerly
disregarded her for the love of Christ, he now acknowledged her again out
of consideration of duty.

CHAPTER XXXIX: Of the device of a certain old man by which some work was
found for Abbot Simeon when be had nothing to do.

   When a brother who was very dear to us, Simeon by name, a man utterly
ignorant of Greek, had come from the region of Italy, one of the elders,
anxious to show to him, as he was a stranger, a work of charity, with some
pretence of the benefit being mutual, asked him why he sat doing nothing in
his cell, guessing from this that he would not be able to stay much longer
in it both because of the roving thoughts which idleness produces and
because, of his want of the necessities of life; well knowing that no one
can endure the assault: made in solitude, but one who is contented to
procure food for himself by the labour of his hands. And when the other
replied that he could not do or manage any of the things which were usually
done by the brethren there, except write a good hand, if any one in Egypt
wanted a Latin book for his use, then he at length seized the opportunity
to secure the long wished for work of charity, under colour of its being a
mutual benefit; and said, "From God this opportunity comes, for I was just
looking for some one to write out for me the Epistles(1) in Latin; for I
have a brother who is bound in the chains of military service, and is a
good Latin scholar, to whom I want to send something from Scripture for him
to read for his edification." And so when Simeon gratefully took this as an
opportunity offered to him by God, the old man also gladly seized the
pretext, under colour of which he could freely carry out his work of
charity, and at once not only brought him as a matter of business
everything he could want for a whole year, but also conveyed to him
parchment and everything requisite for writing, and received afterwards the
manuscript, which was not of the slightest use (since in those parts they
were all utterly ignorant of this language), and did no good to anybody
except that which resulted from this device and large outlay, as the one,
without shame or confusion, procured his necessary food and sustenance by
the reward of his work and labour, and the other carried out his kindness
and bounty as it were by the compulsion of a debt: securing for himself a
more abundant reward proportioned to the zeal with which he procured for
his foreign brother not only his necessary food, but materials for writing,
and an opportunity of work.

CHAPTER XL: Of the boys who when bringing to a sick man some figs, died in
the desert   from hunger, without having tasted them.

   But since in the section in which we proposed to say something about
the strictness of fasting and abstinence, kindly acts and deeds of charity
seem to have been intermingled, again returning to our design we will
insert in this little book a noteworthy deed of some who were boys in years
though not in their feelings. For when, to their great surprise, some one
had brought to Abbot John, the steward in the desert of Scete, some figs
from Libya Mareotis,(2) as being a thing never before seen in those
districts,--(John) who had the management of the church in the days of the
blessed Presbyter Paphnutius,(3) by whom it had been intrusted to him, at
once sent them by the hands of two lads to an old man who was laid up in
ill health in the further parts of the desert, and who lived about eighteen
miles from the church. And when they had received the fruit, and set off
for the cell of the above-mentioned old man, they lost the right path
altogether--a thing which there easily happens even to elders-- as a thick
fog suddenly came on. And when all day and night they had wandered about
the trackless waste of the desert, and could not possibly find the sick
man's cell, worn out at last both by weariness from their journey, and from
hunger and thirst, they bent their knees and gave up their souls to God in
the very act of prayer. And afterwards, when they had been for a long while
sought for by the marks of their footsteps which in those sandy regions are
impressed as if on snow, until a thin coating of sand blown about even by a
slight breeze covers them up again, it was found that they had preserved
the figs untouched, just as they had received them; choosing rather to give
up their lives, than their fidelity to their charge, and to lose their life
on earth than to violate the commands of their senior.

CHAPTER XLI: The saying of Abbot Macarius of the behaviour of a monk as one
who was to live for a long while, and as one who was daily at the point of
death.

   THERE is still one valuable charge of the blessed Macarius to be
brought forward by us, so that a saying of so great a man may close this
book of fasts and abstinence. He said then that a monk ought to bestow
attention on his fasts, just as if he were going to remain in the flesh for
a hundred years; and to curb the motions of the soul, and to forget
injuries, and to loathe sadness, and despise sorrows and losses, as if he
were daily at the point of death. For in the former case discretion is
useful and proper as it causes a monk always to walk with well-balanced
care, and does not suffer him by reason of a weakened body to fall from the
heights over most dangerous precipices: in the other high-mindedness is
most valuable as it will enable him not only to despise the seeming
prosperity of this present world, but also not to be crushed by adversity
and sorrow, and to despise them as small and paltry matters, since he has
the gaze of his mind continually fixed there, whither daily at each moment
he believes that he is soon to be summoned.(1)

BOOK VI.

ON THE SPIRIT OF FORNICATION.

[WE have thought best to omit altogether the translation of this book.]

BOOK VII.

OF THE SPIRIT OF COVETOUSNESS.

CHAPTER I: How our warfare with covetousness is a foreign one, and how this
fault is not a natural one in man, as the other faults are.

   OUR third conflict is against covetousness which we can describe as the
love of money; a foreign warfare, and one outside of our nature, and in the
case of a monk  originating only from the state of a corrupt and sluggish
mind, and often from the beginning of his renunciation being
unsatisfactory, and his love towards God being lukewarm at its foundation.
For the rest of the incitements to sin planted in human nature seem to have
their commencement as it were congenital with us, and somehow being deeply
rooted in our flesh, and almost coeval with our birth, anticipate our
powers of discerning good and evil, and although in very early days they
attack a man, yet they are overcome with a long struggle.

CHAPTER II.: How dangerous is the disease of covetousness.

   But this disease coming upon us at a later period, and approaching the
soul from without, as it can be the more easily guarded against and
resisted, so; if it is disregarded and once allowed to gain an entrance
into the heart, is the more dangerous to every one, and with the greater
difficulty expelled. For it becomes "a root of all evils,"(1) and gives
rise to a multiplicity of incitements to sin.

CHAPTER III: What is the usefulness of those vices which are natural to the
flesh.

   For example, do not we see those natural impulses of the flesh not only
in boys in whom innocence still anticipates the discernment of good and
evil, but even in little children and infants, who although they have not
even the slightest approach to lust within them, yet show that the impulses
of the flesh exist in them and are naturally excited? Do not we also see
that the deadly pricks of anger already exist in full vigour likewise in
little children? and before they have learnt the virtue of patience, we see
that they are disturbed by wrongs, and feel affronts offered to them even
by way of a joke; and sometimes, although strength is lacking to them, the
desire to avenge themselves is not wanting, when anger excites them. Nor do
I say this to lay the blame on their natural state, but to point out that
of these impulses which proceed from us, some are implanted in us for a
useful purpose, while some are introduced from without, through the fault
of carelessness and the desire of an evil will. For these carnal impulses,
of which we spoke above, were with a useful purpose implanted in our bodies
by the providence of the Creator, viz.: for perpetuating the race, and
raising up children for posterity: and not for committing adulteries and
debaucheries, which the authority of the law also condemns. The pricks of
anger too, do we not see that they have been most wisely given to us, that
being enraged at our sins and mistakes, we may apply ourselves the rather
to virtues and spiritual exercises, showing forth all love towards God, and
patience  towards our brethren? We know too how  great is the use of
sorrow, which is reckoned  among the other vices, when it is turned to an
opposite use. For on the one hand, when it is in accordance with the fear
of God it is most needful, and on the other, when it is in accordance with
the world, most pernicious; as the Apostle teaches us when he says that
"the sorrow which is according to God worketh repentance that is steadfast
unto salvation, but the sorrow of the world worketh death."

CHAPTER IV: That we can say that there exist in us some natural faults,
without wronging the Creator.

   IF then we say that these impulses were implanted in us by the Creator,
He will not on that account seem blameworthy, if we choose wrongly to abuse
them, and to pervert them to harmful purposes, and are ready to be made
sorry by means of the useless Cains of this world, and not by means of
showing penitence and the correction of our faults: or at least if we are
angry not with ourselves (which would be profitable) but with our brethren
in defiance of God's command. For in the case of iron, which is given us
for good and useful purposes, if any one should pervert it for murdering
the innocent, one would not therefore blame the maker of the metal because
man had  used to injure others that which he had provided for good and
useful purposes of living happily.

CHAPTER V: Of the faults which are contracted through our own fault,
without natural impulses.

   BUT we affirm that some faults grow up without any natural occasion
giving birth to them, but simply from the free choice of a corrupt and evil
will, as envy and this very sin of covetousness; which are caught (so to
speak) from without, having no origination in us from natural instincts.
But these, in proportion as they are easily guarded against and readily
avoided, just so do they make wretched the mind that they have got hold of
and seized, and hardly do they suffer it to get at the remedies which would
cure it: either because these who are wounded by persons whom they might
either have ignored, or avoided, or easily overcome, do not deserve to be
healed by a speedy cure, or else because, having laid the foundations
badly, they are unworthy to raise an edifice of virtue and reach the summit
of perfection.

CHAPTER VI: How difficult the evil of covetousness is to drive away when
once it has been admitted.

   WHEREFORE let not this evil seem of no account or unimportant to
anybody: for as it can easily be avoided, so if it has once got hold of any
one, it scarcely suffers him to get at the remedies for curing it. For it
is a regular nest of sins, and a "root of all kinds of evil," and  becomes
a hopeless incitement to wickedness, as the Apostle says, "Covetousness,"
i.e. the love of money, "is a root of all kinds of evil."(1)

CHAPTER VII: Of the source from which covetousness springs, and of the
evils of which it is itself the mother.

   When then this vice has got hold of the slack and lukewarm soul of some
monk, it begins by tempting him in regard of a small sum of money, giving
him excellent and almost reasonable excuses why he ought to retain some
money for himself. For he complains that what is provided in the monastery
is not sufficient, and can scarcely be endured by a sound and sturdy body.
What is he to do if ill health comes on, and he has no special store of his
own to support him in his weakness? He says that the allowance of the
monastery is but meagre, and that there is the greatest carelessness about
the sick: and if he has not something of his own so that he can look after
the wants of his body, he will perish miserably. The dress which is allowed
him is insufficient, unless he has provided something with which to procure
another. Lastly, he says that he cannot possibly remain  for long in the
same place and monastery, and that unless he has secured the money for his
journey, and the cost of his removal over the sea, he cannot move when he
wants to, and, detained by the compulsion of want, will henceforth drag out
a wretched and wearisome existence without making the slightest advance:
that he cannot without indignity be supported by another's substance, as a
pauper and one in want. And so when he has bamboozled himself with such
thoughts as these, he racks his brains to think how he can acquire at least
one penny. Then he anxiously searches for some special work which he can do
without the Abbot knowing anything about it. And selling it secretly, and
so securing the coveted coin, he torments himself worse and worse in
thinking how he can double it: puzzled as to where to deposit it, or to
whom to intrust it. Then he is oppressed with a still weightier care as to
what to buy with it, or by what transaction he can double it. And when this
has turned out as he wished, a still more greedy craving for gold springs
up, and is more and more keenly excited, as his store of money grows larger
and larger. For with the increase of wealth the mania of covetousness
increases. Then next he has forebodings of a long life, and an enfeebled
old age, and infirmities of all sorts, and long drawn out, which will be
insupportable in old age, unless a large store of money has been laid by in
youth. And so the wretched soul is agitated, and held fast, as it were, in
a serpent's toils, while it endeavours to add to that heap which it has
unlawfully secured, by still more unlawful care, and itself gives birth to
plagues which inflame it more sorely, and being entirely absorbed in the
quest of gain, pays attention to nothing but how to get money with which to
fly(2) as quickly as possible from the discipline of the monastery, never
keeping faith where there is a gleam of hope of money to be got. For this
it shrinks not from the crime of lying, perjury, and theft, of breaking a
promise, of giving way to injurious bursts of passion. If the man has
dropped away at all from the hope of gain, he has no scruples about
transgressing the bounds of humility, and through it all gold and the love
of gain become to him his god, as the belly does to others. Wherefore the
blessed Apostle, looking out on the deadly poison of this pest, not only
says that it is a root of all kinds of evil, but also calls it the worship
of idols, saying "And covetousness (which in Greek is called philarguri'a)
which is the worship of idols."(3) You see then to what a downfall this
madness step by step leads, so that by the voice of the Apostle it is
actually declared to be the worship of idols and false gods, because
passing over the image and likeness of God (which one who serves God with
devotion ought to preserve undefiled in himself), it chooses to love and
care  for images stamped on gold instead of God.

CHAPTER VIII: How covetousness is a hindrance to all virtues.

   With such strides then in a downward direction he goes from bad to
worse, and at last cares not to retain I will not say the virtue but even
the shadow of humility, charity, and obedience; and is displeased with
everything, and murmurs and groans over every work; and now i having cast
off all reverence, like a bad-tempered horse, dashes off headlong and
unbridled: and discontented with his daily food and usual clothing,
announces that he wall not put up with it any longer. He declares that God
is not only there, and that his salvation is not confined to that place,
where, if he does not take himself off pretty quickly from it, he deeply
laments that he will soon die.

CHAPTER IX: How a monk who has money cannot stay in the monastery.

   And so having money to provide for his wanderings, with the assistance
of which he has fitted himself as it were with wings, and now being quite
ready for his move, he answers impertinently to all commands, and behaves
himself like a stranger and a visitor, and whatever he sees needing
improvement, he despises and treats with contempt. And though he has a
supply of money secretly hidden, yet he complains that he has neither shoes
nor clothes, and is indignant that they are given out to him so slowly. And
if it happens that through the management of the superior some of these are
given first to one who is known to have nothing whatever, he is still more
inflamed with burning rage, and thinks that he is despised as a stranger;
nor is he contented to turn his hand to any work, but finds fault with
everything which the  needs of the monastery require to be done. Then of
set purpose he looks out for opportunities of being offended and angry,
lest he might seem to have gone forth from the discipline of the monastery
for a trivial reason. And not content to take his departure by himself
alone, lest it should be thought that he has left as it were from his own
fault, he never stops corrupting as many as he can by clandestine
conferences. But if the severity of the weather interferes with his journey
and travels, he remains all the time in suspense and anxiety of heart, and
never stops sowing and exciting discontent; as he thinks that he will only
find consolation for his departure and an excuse for his fickleness in the
bad character and defects of the monastery.

CHAPTER X: Of the toils which a deserter from a monastery must undergo
through covetousness, though he used formerly to murmur at the very
slightest tasks.

   AND SO he is driven about, and more and more inflamed with the love of
his money, which when it is acquired, never allows a monk either to remain
in a monastery or to live under the discipline of a rule. And when
separating him like some wild beast from the rest of the herd, it has made
him through want of companions an animal fit for prey, and caused him to be
easily eaten up, as he is deprived of fellow lodgers, it forces him, who
once thought it beneath him to perform the slight duties of the monastery,
to labour without stopping night and day, through hope of gain; it suffers
him to keep no services of prayer, no system of fasting, no rule of vigils;
it does not allow him to fulfil the duties of seemly intercession, If only
he can satisfy the madness of avarice, and supply his daily wants;
inflaming the more the fire of covetousness, while believing that it will
be extinguished by getting.

CHAPTER XI: That under pretence of keeping the purse women have to be
sought to dwell with them.

   HENCE many are led on over an abrupt precipice, and by an irrevocable
fall, to death, and not content to possess by themselves that money which
they either never had before, or which by a bad beginning they kept back,
they seek for women to dwell with them, to preserve what they have
unjustifiably amassed .or retained. And they implicate themselves in so
many harmful and dangerous occupations, that they are cast down even to the
depths of hell, while they refuse to acquiesce in that saying of the
Apostle, that "having food and clothing they should be content" with that
which the thrift of the monastery supplied, but "wishing to become rich
they fall into temptation and the snare of the devil, and many unprofitable
and hurtful desires, which drown men in destruction and perdition. For the
love of money," i.e. covetousness, "is a root of all kinds of evil, which
some coveting have erred from the faith, and have entangled themselves in
many sorrows."(1)

CHAPTER XII: An instance of a lukewarm monk caught in the snares of
covetousness.

   I know of one, who thinks himself a monk, and what is worse flatters
himself on his perfection, who had been received into a monastery, and when
charged by his Abbot not to turn his thoughts back to those things which he
had given up and renounced, but to free himself from covetousness, the root
of all kinds of evil, and from earthly snares; and when told that if he
wished to be cleansed from his former passions, by which he saw that he was
from time to time grievously oppressed, he should cease from caring about
those things which even formerly were not his own, entangled in the chains
of which he certainly could not make progress towards purifying himself of
his faults: with an angry expression he did not hesitate to answer, "If you
have that with which you can support others, why do you forbid me to have
it as well?"(1)

CHAPTER XIII: What the elders relate to the juniors in the matter of
stripping off sins.

   But let not this seem superfluous or objectionable to any one. For
unless the different kinds of sins are first explained, and the origin and
causes of diseases traced out, the proper healing remedies cannot be
applied to the sick, nor can the preservation of perfect health be secured
by the strong. For both these matters and many others besides these are
generally put forward for the instruction of the younger brethren by the
elders in their conferences, as they have had experience of numberless
falls and the ruin of all sorts of people. And often recognizing in
ourselves many of these things, when the elders explained and showed them,
as men who were themselves disquieted(2) by the same passions, we were
cured without any shame or confusion on our part, since without saying
anything we learnt both the remedies and the causes of the sins which beset
us, which we have passed over and said nothing about, not from fear of the
brethren, but lest  our book should chance to fall into the hands of some
who have had no instruction in this way of life, and might disclose to
inexperienced persons what ought to be known only to those who are toiling
and striving to reach the heights of perfection.

CHAPTER XIV: Instances to show that the disease of covetousness is
threefold.

   And so this disease and unhealthy state is threefold, and is condemned
with equal abhorrence by all the fathers. One feature is this, of which we
described the taint above, which by deceiving wretched folk persuades them
to hoard though they never had anything of their own when they lived in the
world. Another,  which forces men afterwards to resume and once more desire
those things which in the early days of their renunciation of the  world
they gave up. A third, which springing from a faulty and hurtful beginning
and making a bad start, does not suffer those whom it has  once infected
with this lukewarmness of mind to strip themselves of all their worldly
goods, through fear of poverty and want of faith; and those who keep back
money and property which they certainly ought to have renounced and
forsaken, it never allows to arrive at the perfection of the gospel. And we
find in Holy Scripture instances of these three catastrophes which were
visited with no light punishment. For when Gehazi wished to acquire what he
had never had before, not only did he fail to obtain the gift of prophecy
which it would have been his to receive from his master by hereditary
succession, but on the contrary he was covered by the curse of the holy
Elisha with a perpetual leprosy: while Judas, wanting to resume the
possession of the wealth which he had formerly cast away when he followed
Christ, not only fell into betraying the Lord, and lost his apostolic rank,
but also was not allowed to close his life with the common lot of all but
ended it by a violent death. But Ananias and Sapphira, keeping back  a part
of that which was formerly their own, were at the Apostle's word punished
with death.

CHAPTER XV: Of the difference between one who renounces the world badly and
one who does not renounce it at all

   OF those then who say that they have renounced this world, and
afterwards being overcome by want of faith are afraid of losing their
worldly goods, a charge is given mystically in Deuteronomy. "If any man is
afraid and of a fearful heart let him not go forth to war: let him go back
and return home, lest he make the hearts of his brethren to fear as he
himself is timid and frightened."(3) What can one want plainer than this
testimony? Does not Scripture clearly prefer that they should not take on
them even the earliest stages of this profession and its name, rather than
by their persuasion and bad example turn others back from the perfection of
the gospel, and weaken them by their faithless terror. And so they are
bidden to withdraw from the battle and return to their homes, because a man
cannot fight the Lord's battle with a double heart. For "a double- minded
man is unstable in all his ways."(4) And thinking, according to that
Parable in the Gospel,(1) that he who goes forth with ten thousand men
against a king who comes with twenty thousand, cannot possibly fight, they
should, while he is yet a great way off, ask for peace; that is, it is
better for them not even to take the first step towards renunciation,
rather than afterwards following it up coldly, to involve themselves in
still greater dangers. For "it is better not to vow, than to vow and not
pay."(2) But finely is the one described as coming with ten thousand and
the other with twenty. For the number of sins which attack us is far larger
than that of the virtues which fight for us. But "no man can serve God and
Mammon."(3) And "no man putting his hand to the plough and looking back is
fit for the kingdom of God."(4)

CHAPTER XVI: Of the authority under which those shelter themselves who
object to stripping themselves of their goods.

   THESE then try to make out a case for their original avarice, by some
authority from Holy Scripture, which they interpret with base ingenuity, in
their desire to wrest and pervert to their own purposes a saying of the
Apostle or rather of the Lord Himself: and, not adapting their own life or
understanding to the meaning of the Scripture, but making the meaning of
Scripture bend to the desires of their own lust, they try to make it to
correspond to their own views, and say that it is written, "It is more
blessed to give than to receive."(5) And by an entirely wrong
interpretation of this they think that they can weaken the force of that
saying of the Lord in which he says: "If thou wilt be perfect, go sell all
that thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven; and come, follow me."(6) And they think that under colour of this
they need not deprive themselves of their riches: declaring indeed that
they are more blessed if, supported by that which originally belonged to
them, they give to others also out of their superabundance. And while they
are shy of embracing with the Apostle that glorious state of abnegation for
Christ's sake, they will not be content either with manual labour or the
sparing diet of the monastery. And the only thing is that these must either
know that they are deceiving themselves, and have not really renounced the
world while they are clinging to their former riches; or, if they really
and truly want to make trial of the monastic life, they must give up and
forsake all these things and keep back nothing of that which they have
renounced, and, with the Apostle, glory "in hunger and thirst, in cold and
nakedness."(7)

CHAPTER XVII: Of the renunciation of the apostles and the primitive church.

   As if he (who, by his assertion that he was endowed with the privileges
of a Roman citizen from his birth, testifies that he was no mean person
according to this world's rank) might not likewise have been supported by
the property which formerly belonged to him! And as if those men who were
possessors of lands and houses in Jerusalem and sold everything and kept
back nothing whatever for themselves, and brought the price of them and
laid it at the feet of the apostles, might not have supplied their bodily
necessities from their own property, had this been considered the best plan
by the apostles, or had they themselves deemed it preferable! But they gave
up all their property at once, and preferred to be supported by their own
labour, and by the contributions of the Gentiles, of whose collection the
holy Apostle speaks in writing to the Romans, and declaring his own office
in this matter to them, and urging them on likewise to make this
collection: "But now I go to Jerusalem to minister to the saints. For it
has pleased them of Macedonia and Achaia to make a certain contribution for
the poor saints who are at Jerusalem: it has pleased them indeed, and their
debtors they are. For if the Gentiles are made partakers of their spiritual
things, they ought also to minister to them in carnal things."(8) To the
Corinthians also he shows the same anxiety about this, and urges them the
more diligently to prepare before his arrival a collection, which he was
intending to send for their needs. "But concerning the collection for the
saints, as I appointed to the churches of Galatia, so also do ye. Let each
one of you on the first day of the week put apart with himself, laying up
what it shall well please him, that when I come the collections be not then
to be made. But when I come whomsoever you shall approve by your letters,
them  I will send to carry your grace to Jerusalem." And that he may
stimulate them to make a larger collection, he adds, "But if it be meet
that I also go, they shall go with me:"(9) meaning if your offering is of
such a character as to deserve to be taken there by my ministration. To the
Galatians too, he testifies that when he was settling the division of the
ministry of preaching with the apostles, he had arranged this with James,
Peter, and John: that he should undertake the preaching to the Gentiles,
but should never repudiate care and anxious thought for the poor who were
at Jerusalem, who for Christ's sake gave up all their goods, and submitted
to voluntary poverty. "And when they saw," said he, "the grace of God which
was given to me, James and Cephas and John, who seemed to be pillars, gave
to me and to Barnabas the right hand: of fellowship, that we should preach
to the: Gentiles, but they to those of the circumcision: only they would
that we should be mindful of the poor." A matter which he testifies that he
attended to most carefully, saying, "which also I was anxious of myself to
do.Who then are the more blessed, those who but lately were gathered out of
the number of the heathen, and being unable to climb to the heights of the
perfection of the gospel, clung to their own property, in whose case it was
considered a great thing by the Apostle if at least they were restrained
from the worship of idols, and from fornication, and from things strangled,
and from blood,(2) and had embraced the faith of Christ, with their goods
and all: or those who live up to the demands of the gospel, and carry the
Lord's cross daily, and want nothing out of their property to remain for
their own use? And if the blessed Apostle himself, bound with chains and
fetters, or hampered by the difficulties of travelling, and for these
reasons not being able to provide with his hands, as he generally did, for
the supply of his food, declares that he received that which supplied his
wants from the brethren who came from Macedonia; "For that which was
lacking to me," he says, "the brethren who came from Macedonia
supplied:"(3) and to the Philippians he says: "For ye Philippians know also
that in the beginning of the gospel, when I came from Macedonia, no church
communicated with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you
only; because even in Thessalonica once and again you sent to supply my
needs:"(4) (if this was so) then, according to the notion of these  men,
which they have formed in the coldness  of their heart, will those men
really be more blessed than the Apostle, because it is found  that they
have ministered to him of their substance? But this no one will venture to
assert, however big a fool he may be.

CHAPTER XVIII: That if we want to imitate the apostles we ought not to live
according to our own prescriptions, but to follow their example.

   WHEREFORE if we want to obey the gospel precept, and to show ourselves
the followers of the Apostle and the whole primitive church, or of the
fathers who in our own days succeeded to their virtues and perfection, we
should not acquiesce in our own prescriptions, promising ourselves
perfection from this wretched and lukewarm condition of ours: but following
their footsteps, we should by no means aim at looking after our own
interests, but should seek out the discipline and system of a monastery,
that we may in very truth renounce this world; preserving nothing of those
things which we have despised through the temptation of want of faith; and
should look for our daily food, not from any store of money of our own, but
from our own labours.

CHAPTER XIX: A saying of S. Basil, the Bishop, directed against
Syncletius.(5)

   THERE is current a saying of S. Basil, Bishop of Caesarea, directed
against a certain Syncletius, who was growing indifferent with the sort of
lukewarmness of which we have spoken; who, though he professed to have
renounced this world, had yet kept back for himself some of his property,
not liking to be supported by the labour of his own hands, and to acquire
true humility by stripping himself and by grinding toil, and the subjection
of the monastery: "You have," said he, "spoilt Syncletius, and not made a
monk."

CHAPTER XX: How contemptible it is to be overcome by covetousness.

   AND so if we want to strive lawfully in our spiritual combat, let us
expel this dangerous enemy also from our hearts. For to overcome him does
not so much show great virtue, as to be beaten by him is shameful and
disgraceful. For when you are overpowered by a strong man, though there is
grief in being overthrown, and distress at the loss of victory, yet some
consolation may be derived by the vanquished from the strength of their
opponent. But if the enemy is a poor creature, and the struggle a feeble
one, besides the grief for defeat there is confusion of a more disgraceful
character, and a shame which is worse than loss.

CHAPTER XXI: How covetousness can be conquered.

   AND in this case it will be the greatest victory and a lasting triumph,
if, as is said, the conscience of the monk is not defiled by the possession
of the smallest coin. For it is an impossibility for him who, overcome in
the matter of a small possession, has once admitted into his heart a root
of evil desire, not to be inflamed presently with the heat of a still
greater desire. For the soldier of Christ will be victorious and in safety,
and free from all the attacks of desire, so long as this most evil spirit
does not implant in his heart a seed of this desire. Wherefore, though in
the matter of all kinds of sins we ought ordinarily to watch the serpent's
head,(1) yet in this above all we should be more keenly on our guard. For
if it has been admitted it will grow by feeding on itself, and will kindle
for itself a worse fire. And so we must not only guard against the
possession of money, but also must expel from our souls the desire for it.
For we should not so much avoid the results of covetousness, as cut off by
the roots all disposition towards it. For it will do no good not to possess
money, if there exists in us the desire for getting it.

CHAPTER XXII: That one who actually has no money may still be deemed
covetous.

   FOR it is possible even for one who has no money to be by no means free
from the malady of covetousness, and for the blessing of penury to do him
no good, because he has not been able to root out the sin of cupidity:
delighting in the advantages of poverty, not in the merit of the virtue,
and satisfied with the burden of necessity, not without coldness of heart.
For just as the word of the gospel declares of those who are not defiled in
body, that they are adulterers in heart;(2) so it is possible that those
who are in no way pressed down with the weight of money may be condemned
with the covetous in disposition and intent. For it was the opportunity of
possessing which was wanting in their case, and not the will for it: which
latter is always crowned by God, rather than compulsion. And so we must use
all diligence lest the fruits of our labours should be destroyed to no
purpose. For it is a wretched thing to have endured the effects of poverty
and want, but to have lost their fruits, through the fault of a shattered
will.

CHAPTER XXIII: An example drawn from the case of Judas.

   WOULD you like to know how dangerously and harmfully that incitement,
unless it has been carefully eradicated, will shoot up for the destruction
of its owner, and put forth all sorts of branches of different sins? Look
at Judas, reckoned among the number of the apostles, and see how because he
would not bruise the deadly head of this serpent it destroyed him with its
poison, and how when he was caught in the snares of concupiscence, it drove
him into sin and a headlong downfall, so that he was persuaded to sell the
Redeemer of the world and the author of man's salvation for thirty pieces
of silver. And he could never have been impelled to this heinous sin of the
betrayal if he had not been contaminated by the sin of covetousness: nor
would he have made himself wickedly guilty of betraying(3) the Lord, unless
he had first accustomed himself to rob the bag intrusted to him.

CHAPTER XXIV: That covetousness cannot be overcome except by stripping
one's self of everything.

THIS is a sufficiently dreadful and clear instance of this tyranny, which,
when once the mind is taken prisoner by it, allows it to keep to no rules
of honesty, nor to be satisfied with any additions to its gains. For we
must seek to put an end to this madness, not by riches, but by stripping
ourselves of them. Lastly, when he (viz. Judas) had received the bag set
apart for the distribution to the poor, and intrusted to his care for this
purpose, that he might at least satisfy himself with plenty of money, and
set a limit to his avarice, yet his plentiful supply only broke out into a
still greedier incitement of desire, so that he was ready no longer
secretly to rob the bag, but actually to sell the Lord Himself. For the
madness of this avarice is not satisfied with any amount of riches.

CHAPTER XXV: Of the deaths of Ananias and Sapphira, and Judas, which they
underwent through the impulse of covetousness.

   LASTLY, the chief of the apostles, taught by these instances, and
knowing that one who has any avarice cannot bridle it, and that it cannot
be put an end to by a large or small sum of money, but only by the virtue
of renunciation of everything, punished with death Ananias and Sapphira,
who were mentioned before, because they had kept back something out of
their property, that that death which Judas had voluntarily met with for
the sin of betraying the Lord, they might also undergo for their lying
avarice.(1) How closely do the sin and punishment correspond in each case!
In the one case treachery, in the other falsehood, was the result of
covetousness. In the one case the truth is betrayed, in the other the sin
of lying is committed. For though the issues of their deeds may appear
different, yet they coincide in having one and the same aim. For the one,
in order to escape poverty, desired to take back what he had forsaken; the
others, for fear lest they might become poor, tried to keep back something
out of their property, which they should have either offered to the Apostle
in good faith, or have given entirely to the brethren. And so in each case
there follows the judgment of death; because each sin sprang from the root
of covetousness. And so if against those who did not covet other persons'
goods, but tried to be sparing of their own, and had no desire to acquire,
but only the wish to retain, there went forth so severe a sentence, what
should we think of those who desire to amass wealth, without ever having
had any of their own, and, making a show of poverty before men, are before
God convicted of being rich, through the passion of avarice?

CHAPTER XXVI: That covetousness brings upon the soul a spiritual leprosy.

   AND such are seen to be lepers in spirit and heart, after the likeness
of Gehazi, who, desiring the uncertain riches of this world, was covered
with the taint of foul leprosy, through which he left us a clear example
that every soul which is defiled with the stain of cupidity is covered with
the spiritual leprosy of sin, and is counted as unclean before God with a
perpetual curse.

CHAPTER XXVII: Scripture proofs by which one who is aiming at perfection is
taught not to take back again what he has given up and renounced.

   IF then through the desire of perfection you have forsaken all things
and followed Christ who says to thee, "Go sell all that thou hast, and give
to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come follow
me,"(2) why, having put your hand to the plough, do you look back, so that
you will be declared by the voice of the same Lord not to be fit for the
kingdom of heaven?(3) When secure on the top of the gospel roof, why do you
descend to carry away something from the house, from those things, namely,
which beforetime you despised? When you are out in the field and working at
the virtues, why do you run back and try to clothe yourself again with what
belongs to this world, which you stripped off when you renounced it?(4) But
if you were hindered by poverty from having anything to give up, still less
ought you to amass what you never had before. For by the grace of the Lord
you were for this purpose made ready that you might hasten to him the more
readily, being hampered by no snares of wealth. But let no one who is
wanting in this be disappointed; for there is no one who has not something
to give up. He has renounced all the possessions of this world, whoever has
thoroughly eradicated the desire to possess them.

CHAPTER XXVIII: That the victory over covetousness can only be gained by
stripping one's self bare of everything.

   THIS then is the perfect victory over covetousness: not to allow a
gleam from the very smallest scrap of it to remain in our heart, as we know
that we shall have no further power of quenching it, if we cherish even the
tiniest bit of a spark of it in us.

CHAPTER XXIX: How a monk can retain his poverty.

   AND we can only preserve this virtue unimpaired if we remain in a
monastery, and as the Apostle says, having food and clothing, are therewith
content.(5)

CHAPTER XXX: The remedies against the disease of covetousness.

   KEEPING then in mind the judgment of Ananias and Sapphira let us dread
keeping back any of those things which we gave up and vowed utterly to
forsake. Let us also fear the example of Gehazi, who for the sin of
covetousness was chastised with the punishment of perpetual leprosy. From
this let us beware of acquiring that wealth which we never formerly
possessed. Moreover also dreading both the fault and the death of Judas,
let us with all the power that we have avoid taking back any of that wealth
which once we east away from us. Above all, considering the state of our
weak and shifty nature, let us beware lest the day of the Lord come upon us
as a thief in the night,(1) and find our conscience defiled even by a
single penny; for this would make void all the fruits of our renunciation
of the world, and cause that which was said to the rich man in the gospel
to be directed towards us also by the voice of the Lord: "Thou fool, this
night thy soul shall be required of thee: then whose shall those things be
which thou hast prepared?"(4) And taking no thought for the morrow, let us
never allow ourselves to be enticed away from the rule of the Coenobium.

CHAPTER XXXI: That no one can get the better of covetousness unless he
stays in the Coenobium: and how one can remain there.

   BUT we shall certainly not be suffered to do this, nor even to remain
under the rule of a system, unless the virtue of patience, which can only
spring from humility as its source, is first securely fixed and established
in us. For the one teaches us not to trouble any one else; the other, to
endure with magnanimity wrongs offered to us.

BOOK VIII.

OF THE SPIRIT OF ANGER.

CHAPTER I: How our fourth conflict is against the sin of anger, and how
many evils this passion produces.

   IN our fourth combat the deadly poison of anger has to be utterly
rooted out from the inmost comers of our soul. For as long as this remains
in our hearts, and blinds with its hurtful darkness the eye of the soul, we
can neither acquire right judgment and discretion, nor gain the insight
which springs from an honest gaze, or ripeness of counsel, nor can we be
partakers of life, or retentive of righteousness, or even have the capacity
for spiritual and true light: "for," says one, mine eye is disturbed by
reason of anger."(2) Nor can we become partakers of wisdom, even though we
are considered wise by universal consent, for "anger rests in the bosom of
fools."(3) Nor can we even attain immortal life, although we are accounted
prudent in the opinion of everybody, for "anger destroys even the
prudent."(5) Nor shall we be able with clear judgment of heart to secure
the controlling power of righteousness, even though we are reckoned perfect
and holy in the estimation of all men, for "the wrath of man worketh not
the righteousness of God."(6) Nor can we by any possibility acquire that
esteem and honour which is so frequently seen even in worldlings, even
though we are thought noble and honourable through the privileges of birth,
because "an angry man is dishonoured."(7) Nor again can we secure any
ripeness of counsel, even though we appear to be weighty, and endowed with
the utmost knowledge; because "an angry man acts without counsel."(8) Nor
can we be free from dangerous disturbances, nor be without sin, even though
no sort of disturbances be brought upon us by others; because "a passionate
man engenders quarrels, but an angry man digs up sins."(1)

CHAPTER II: Of those who say that anger is not injurious, if we are angry
with those who do wrong, since God Himself is said to be angry.

   We have heard some people trying to excuse this most pernicious disease
of the soul, in such a way as to endeavour to extenuate it by a rather
shocking way of interpreting Scripture: as they say that it is not
injurious if we are angry with the brethren who do wrong, since, say they,
God Himself is said to rage and to be angry with those who either will not
know Him, or, knowing Him, spurn Him, as here "And the anger of the Lord
was kindled against His people;"(2) or where the prophet prays and says, "O
Lord, rebuke me not in thine anger, neither chasten me in thy
displeasure;"(3) not understanding that, while they want to open to men an
excuse for a most pestilent sin, they are ascribing to the Divine Infinity
and Fountain of all purity a taint of human passion.

CHAPTER III: Of those things which are spoken of God anthropomorphically.

   FOR if when these things are said of God they are to be understood
literally in a material gross signification, then also He sleeps, as it is
said, "Arise, wherefore sleepest thou, O Lord?"(4) though it is elsewhere
said of Him: "Behold he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor
sleep."(5) And He stands and sits, since He says, "Heaven is my seat, and
earth the footstool for my feet:"(6) though He "measure out the heaven with
his hand, and holdeth the earth in his fist."(7) And He is "drunken with
wine" as it is said, "The Lord awoke like a sleeper, a mighty man, drunken
with wine;"(8) He "who only hath immortality and dwelleth in the light
which no man can approach unto:"(9) not to say anything of the "ignorance"
and "forgetfulness," of which we often find mention in Holy Scripture: nor
lastly of the outline of His limbs, which are spoken of as arranged and
ordered like a man's; e.g., the hair, head, nostrils, eyes, face, hands,
arms, fingers, belly, and feet: if we are willing to take all of which
according to the bare literal sense, we must think of God as in fashion
with the outline of limbs, and a bodily form; which indeed is shocking even
to speak of, and must be far from our thoughts.

CHAPTER IV: In what sense we should understand the passions and human arts
which are ascribed to the unchanging and incorporeal God.

   AND so as without horrible profanity these things cannot be understood
literally of Him who is declared by the authority of Holy Scripture to be
invisible, ineffable, incomprehensible, inestimable, simple, and
uncompounded, so neither can the passion of anger and wrath be attributed
to that unchangeable nature without fearful blasphemy. For we ought to see
that the limbs signify the divine powers and boundless operations of God,
which can only be represented to us by the familiar expression of limbs: by
the mouth we should understand that His utterances are meant, which are of
His mercy continually poured into the secret senses of the soul, or which
He spoke among our fathers and the prophets: by the eyes we can understand
the boundless character of His sight with which He sees and looks through
all things, and so nothing is hidden from Him of what is done or can be
done by us, or even thought. By the expression "hands," we understand His
providence and work, by which He is the creator and author of all things;
the arms are the emblems of His might and government, with which He
upholds, rules and controls all things. And not to speak of other things,
what else does the hoary hair of His head signify but the eternity and
perpetuity of Deity, through which He is without any beginning, and before
all times, and excels all creatures? So then also when we read of the anger
or fury of the Lord, we should take it not anthrwpopathw^s; i.e., according
to an unworthy meaning of human passion,(10) but in a sense worthy of God,
who is free from all passion; so that by this we should understand that He
is the judge and avenger of all the unjust things which are done in this
world; and by reason of these terms and their meaning we should dread Him
as the terrible rewarder of our deeds, and fear to do anything against His
will. For human nature is wont to fear those whom it knows to be indignant,
and is afraid of offending: as in the case of some most just judges,
avenging wrath is usually feared by those who are tormented by some
accusation of their conscience; not indeed that this passion exists in the
minds of those who are going to judge with perfect equity, but that, while
they so fear, the disposition of the judge towards them is that which is
the precursor of a just and impartial execution of the law. And this, with
whatever kindness and gentleness it may be conducted, is deemed by those
who are justly to be punished to be the most savage wrath and vehement
anger. It would be tedious and outside the scope of the present work were
we to explain all the things which are spoken metaphorically of God in Holy
Scripture, with human figures. Let it be enough for our present purpose,
which is aimed against the sin of wrath, to have said this that no one may
through ignorance draw down upon himself a cause of this evil and of
eternal death, out of those Scriptures in which he should seek for
saintliness and immortality as the remedies to bring life and salvation.

CHAPTER V: How calm a monk ought to be.

   And so a monk aiming at perfection, and desiring to strive lawfully in
his spiritual combat, should be free from all sin of anger and wrath, and
should listen to the charge which the "chosen vessel" gives him. "Let all
anger," says he, and wrath, and clamour, and evil speaking, be taken away
from among you, with all malice."(1) When he says, "Let all anger be taken
away from you," he excepts none whatever as necessary or useful for us. And
if need be, he should at once treat an erring brother in such a way that,
while he manages to apply a remedy to one afflicted with perhaps a slight
fever, he may not by his wrath involve himself in a more dangerous malady
of blindness. For he who wants to heal another's wound ought to be in good
health and free from every affection of weakness himself, lest that saying
of the gospel should be used to him, "Physician, first heal thyself;"(2)
and lest, seeing a mote in his brother's eye, he see not the beam in his
own eye, for how will he see to cast out the mote from his brother's eye,
who has the beam of anger in his own eye?(3)

CHAPTER VI:  Of the righteous and unrighteous passion of wrath.

   FROM almost every cause the emotion of wrath boils over, and blinds the
eyes of the soul, and, bringing the deadly beam of a worse disease over the
keenness of our sight, prevents us from seeing the sun of righteousness. It
makes no difference whether gold plates, or lead, or what metal you please,
are placed over our eyelids, the value of the metal makes no difference in
our blindness.

CHAPTER VII: Of the only case in which anger is useful to us.

   We have, it must be admitted, a use for anger excellently implanted in
us for which alone it is useful and profitable for us to admit it, viz.,
when we are indignant and rage against the lustful emotions of our heart,
and are vexed that the things which we are ashamed to do or say before men
have risen up in the lurking places of our heart, as we tremble at the
presence of the angels, and of God Himself, who pervades all things
everywhere, and fear with the utmost dread the eye of Him from whom the
secrets of our hearts cannot possibly be hid.

CHAPTER VIII: Instances from the life of the blessed David in which anger
was rightly felt.

   AND at any rate (this is the case), when we are agitated against this
very anger, because it has stolen on us against our brother, and when in
wrath we expel its deadly incitements, nor suffer it to have a dangerous
lurking place in the recesses of our heart. To be angry in this fashion
even that prophet teaches us who had so completely expelled it from his own
feelings that he would not retaliate even on his enemies and those
delivered by God into his hands: when he says "Be ye angry and sin not."(4)
For he, when he had longed for water from the well of Bethlehem, and had
been given it by his mighty men, who had brought it through the midst of
the hosts of the enemy, at once poured it out on the ground: and thus in
his anger extinguished the delicious feeling of his desire, and poured it
out to the Lord, without satisfying the longing that he had expressed,
saying: "That be far from me that I should do this! Shall I drink the blood
of those men who went forth on the danger of their souls?"(1) And when
Shimei threw stones at King David and cursed him, in his hearing, before
everybody, and Abishai, the son of Zeruiah, the captain of the host, wished
to cut off his head and avenge the insult to the king, the blessed David
moved with pious wrath against this dreadful suggestion of his, and keeping
the due measure of humility and a strict patience, said with imperturbable
gentleness, "What have I to do with you, ye sons of Zeruiah? Let him alone
that he may curse. For the Lord hath commanded him to curse David. And who
is he who shall dare to say, Why hast thou done this? Behold my son, who
came forth from my loins, seeks my life, and how much more this son of
Benjamin? Let him alone, that he may curse, according to the command of the
Lord. It may be the Lord will look upon my affliction, and return to me
good for this cursing to- day."(2)

CHAPTER IX: Of the anger which should be directed against ourselves.

   AND some are commanded to "be angry" after a wholesome fashion, but
with our own selves, and with evil thoughts that arise, and "not to sin,"
viz., by bringing them to a bad issue. Finally, the next verse explains
this to be the meaning more clearly: "The things you say in your hearts, be
sorry for them on your beds:"(8) i.e., whatever you think of in your hearts
when sudden and nervous excitements rush in on you, correct and amend with
wholesome sorrow, lying as it were on a bed of rest, and removing by the
moderating influence of counsel all noise and disturbance of wrath. Lastly,
the blessed Apostle, when he made use of the testimony of this verse, and
said, "Be ye angry and sin not," added, "Let not the sun go down upon your
wrath, neither give place to the devil."(4) If it is dangerous for the sun
of righteousness to go down upon our wrath, and if when we are angry we
straightway give place to the devil in our hearts, how is it that above he
charges us to be angry, saying, "Be ye angry, and sin not"? Does he not
evidently mean this: be ye angry with your faults and your tempers, lest,
if you acquiesce in them, Christ, the sun of righteousness, may on account
of your anger begin to go down on your darkened minds, and when He departs
you may furnish a place for the devil in your hearts?

CHAPTER X: Of the sun, of which it is said that it should not go down upon
your wrath.

   AND of this sun God clearly makes mention by the prophet, when He says,
"But to those that fear my name the sun of righteousness shall arise with
healing in His wings."(5) And this again is said to "go down" at midday on
sinners and false prophets, and those who are angry, when the prophet says,
"Their sun is gone down at noon."(6) And at any rate "tropically"(7) the
mind, that is the nou^s or reason, which is fairly called the sun because
it looks over all the thoughts and discernings of the heart, should not be
put out by the sin of anger: lest when it "goes down" the shadows of
disturbance, together with the devil their author, fill all the feelings of
our hearts, and, overwhelmed by the shadows of wrath, as in a murky night,
we know not what we ought to do. In this sense it is that we have brought
forward this passage of the Apostle, handed down to us by the teaching of
the elders, because it was needful, even at the risk of a somewhat lengthy
discourse, to show how they felt with regard to anger, for they do not
permit it even for a moment to effect an entrance into our heart: observing
with the utmost care that saying of the gospel: "Whosoever is angry with
his brother is in danger of the judgment."(8) But if it be lawful to be
angry up till sunset, the surfeit of our wrath and the vengeance of our
anger will be able to give full play to passion and dangerous excitement
before that sun inclines towards its setting.(9)

CHAPTER XI: Of those to whose wrath even the going down of the sun sets no
limit.

   BUT what am I to say of those (and I cannot say it without shame on my
own part) to whose implacability even the going down of the sun sets no
bound: but prolonging it for several days, and nourishing rancorous
feelings against those against whom they have been excited, they say in
words that they are not angry, but in fact and deed they show that they are
extremely disturbed? For they do not speak to them pleasantly, nor address
them with ordinary civility, and they think that they are not doing wrong m
this, because they do not seek to avenge themselves for their upset. But
since they either do not dare, or at any rate are not able to show their
anger openly, and give place to it, they drive in, to their own detriment,
the poison of anger, and secretly cherish it in their hearts, and silently
feed on it in themselves; without shaking off by an effort of mind their
sulky disposition, but digesting it as the days go by, and somewhat
mitigating it after a while.

CHAPTER XII: How this is the end of temper and anger when a man carries it
into act as far as he can.

   BUT it looks as if even this was not the end of vengeance to every one,
but some can only completely satisfy their wrath or sulkiness if they carry
out the impulse of anger as far as they are able; and this we know to be
the case with those who restrain their feelings, not from desire of calming
them, but simply from want of opportunity of revenge. For they can do
nothing more to those with whom they are angry, except speak to them
without ordinary civility: or it looks as if anger was to be moderated only
in action, and not to be altogether rooted out from its hiding place in our
bosom: so that, overwhelmed by its shadows, we are unable not only to admit
the light of wholesome counsel and of knowledge, but also to be a temple of
the Holy Spirit, so long as the spirit of anger dwells in us. For wrath
that is nursed in the heart, although it may not injure men who stand by,
yet excludes the splendour of the radiance of the Holy Ghost, equally with
wrath that is openly manifested.

CHAPTER XIII: That we should not retain our anger even for an instant.

   OR how can we think that the Lord would have it retained even for an
instant, since He does not permit us to offer the spiritual sacrifices of
our prayers, if we are aware that another has any bitterness against us:
saying, "If then thou bringest thy gift to the altar and there rememberest
that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift at the altar
and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer
thy gift."(1) How then may we retain displeasure against our brother, I
will not say for several days, but even till the going down of the sun, if
we are not allowed to offer our prayers to God while he has anything
against us? And yet we are commanded by the Apostle: "Pray without
ceasing;"(2) and "in every place lifting up holy hands without wrath and
disputing."(3) It remains then either that we never pray at all, retaining
this poison m our hearts, and become guilty in regard of this apostolic or
evangelic charge, in which we are bidden to pray everywhere and without
ceasing; or else if, deceiving ourselves, we venture to pour forth our
prayers, contrary to His command, we must know that we are offering to God
no prayer, but an obstinate temper with a rebellious spirit.

CHAPTER XIV: Of reconciliation with our brother.

   AND because we often spurn the brethren who are injured and saddened,
and despise them, and say that they were not hurt by any fault of ours, the
Healer of souls, who knows all secrets, wishing utterly to eradicate all
opportunities of anger from our hearts, not only commands us to forgive if
we have been wronged, and to be reconciled with our brothers, and keep no
recollection of wrong or injuries against them, but He also gives a similar
charge, that in case we are aware that they have anything against us,
whether justly or unjustly, we should leave our gift, that is, postpone our
prayers, and hasten first to offer satisfaction to them; and so when our
brother's cure is first effected, we may bring the offering of our prayers
without blemish. For the common Lord of all does not care so much for our
homage as to lose in one what He gains in another, through displeasure
being allowed to reign in us. For in any one's loss He suffers some loss,
who desires and looks for the salvation of all His servants in one and the
same way. And therefore our prayer will lose its effect, if our brother has
anything against us, just as much as if we were cherishing feelings of
bitterness against him in a swelling and wrathful spirit.

CHAPTER XV: How the Old Law would root out anger not only from the actions
but from the thoughts.

   BUT why should we spend any more time over evangelic and apostolic
precepts, when even the old law, which is thought to be somewhat slack,
guards against the same thing, when it says, "Thou shall not hate thy
brother in thine heart;" and again, "Be not mindful of the injury of thy
citizens;"(1) and again, "The ways of those who preserve the recollection
of wrongs are towards death"?(2) You see there too that wickedness is
restrained not only in action, but also in the secret thoughts, since it is
commanded that hatred be utterly rooted out from the heart, and not merely
retaliation for, but the very recollection of, a wrong done.

CHAPTER XVI: How useless is the retirement of those who do not give up
their bad manners.

   SOMETIMES when we have been overcome by pride or impatience, and we
want to improve our rough and bearish manners, we complain that we require
solitude, as if we should find the virtue of patience there where nobody
provokes us: and we apologize for our carelessness, and say that the reason
of our disturbance does not spring from our own impatience, but from the
fault of our brethren. And while we lay the blame of our fault on others,
we shall never be able to reach the goal of patience and perfection.

CHAPTER XVII: That the peace of our heart does not depend on another's
will, but lies in our own control.

   THE chief part then of our improvement and peace of mind must not be
made to depend on another's will, which cannot possibly be subject to our
authority, but it lies rather in our own control. And so the fact that we
are not angry ought not to result from another's perfection, but from our
own virtue, which is acquired, not by somebody else's patience, but by our
own long-suffering.

CHAPTER XVIII: Of the zeal with which we should seek the desert, and of the
things in which we make progress there.

   FURTHER, it is those who are perfect and purified from all faults who
ought to seek the desert, and when they have thoroughly exterminated all
their faults amid the assembly of the brethren, they should enter it not by
way of cowardly flight, but for the purpose of divine contemplation, and
with the desire of deeper insight into heavenly things, which can only be
gained in solitude by those who are perfect. For whatever faults we bring
with us uncured into the desert, we shall find to remain concealed in us
and not to be got rid of. For just as when the character has been improved,
solitude can lay open to it the purest contemplation, and reveal the
knowledge of spiritual mysteries to its clear gaze, so it generally not
only preserves but intensifies the faults of those who have undergone no
correction. For a man appears to himself to be patient and humble, just as
long as he comes across nobody in intercourse; but he will presently revert
to his former nature, whenever the chance of any sort of passion occurs: I
mean that those faults will at once appear on the surface which were lying
hid, and, like unbridled horses diligently fed up during too long a time of
idleness, dash forth from the barriers the more eagerly and fiercely, to
the destruction of their charioteer. For when the opportunity for
practising them among men is removed, our faults will more and more
increase in us, unless we have first been purified from them. And the mere
shadow of patience, which, when we mixed with our brethren, we seemed
fancifully to possess, at least out of respect for them and publicity, we
lose altogether through sloth and carelessness.

CHAPTER XIX: An illustration to help in forming an opinion on those who are
only patient when they are not tried by any one.

   BUT it is like all poisonous kinds of serpents or of wild beasts,
which, while they remain in solitude and their own lairs, are still not
harmless;(3) for they cannot really be said to be harmless, because they
are not actually hurting anybody. For this results in their case, not from
any feeling of goodness, but from the exigencies of solitude, and when they
have secured an opportunity of hurting some one, at once they produce the
poison stored up in them, and show the ferocity of their nature. And so in
the case of men who are aiming at perfection, it is not enough not to be
angry with men. For we recollect that when we were living in solitude a
feeling of irritation would creep over us against our pen because it was
too large or too small; against our penknife when it cut badly and with a
blunt edge what we wanted cut; and against a flint if by chance when we
were rather late and hurrying to the reading, a spark of fire flashed out,
so that we could not remove and get rid of our perturbation of mind except
by cursing the senseless matter, or at least the devil. Wherefore for a
method of perfection it will not be of any use for there to be a dearth of
men against whom our anger might be roused: since, if patience has not
already been acquired, the feelings of passion which still dwell in our
hearts can equally well spend themselves on dumb things and paltry objects,
and not allow us to gain a continuous state of peacefulness, or to be free
from our remaining faults: unless perhaps we think that some advantage and
a sort of cure may be gained for our passion from the fact that inanimate
and speechless things cannot possibly reply to our curses and rage, nor
provoke our ungovernable temper to break out into a worse madness of
passion.

CHAPTER XX: Of the way in which auger should be banished according to the
gospel.

   WHEREFORE if we wish to gain the substance of that divine reward of
which it is said, "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see
God,"(1) we ought not only to banish it from our actions, but entirely to
root it out from our inmost soul. For it will not be of any good to have
checked anger in words, and not to have shown it in deeds, if God, from
whom the secrets of the heart are not hid, sees that it remains in the
secret recesses of our bosom. For the word of the gospel bids us destroy
the roots of our faults rather than the fruits; for these, when the
incitements are all removed, will certainly not put forth shoots any more;
and so the mind will be able to continue in all patience and holiness, when
this anger has been removed, not from the surface of acts and deeds, but
from the very innermost thoughts. And, therefore to avoid the commission of
murder, anger and hatred are cut off, without which the crime of murder
cannot possibly be committed. For "whosoever is angry with his brother, is
in danger of the judgment;"(2) and "whosoever hateth his brother is a
murderer;"(3) viz., because in his heart he desires to kill him, whose
blood we know that he has certainly not shed among men with his own hand or
with a weapon; yet, owing to his burst of anger, he is declared to be a
murderer by God, who renders to each man, not merely for the result of his
actions, but for his purpose and desires and wishes, either a reward or a
punishment; according to that which He Himself says through the prophet:
"But I come that I may gather them together with all nations and
tongues;"(4) and again:(5) "Their thoughts between themselves accusing or
also defending one another, in the day when God shall judge the secrets of
men."(6)

CHAPTER XXI: Whether we ought to admit the addition of "without a cause,"
in that which is written in the Gospel, "whosoever is angry with his
brother," etc.

   BUT you should know that in this, which is found in many copies,
"Whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause, is in danger of the
judgment,"(7) the words "without a cause" are superfluous, and were added
by those who did not think that anger for just causes was to be banished:
since certainly nobody, however unreasonably he is disturbed, would say
that he was angry without a cause. Wherefore it appears to have been added
by those who did not understand the drift of Scripture, which intended
altogether to banish the incentive to anger, and to reserve no occasion
whatever for indignation; lest while we were commanded to be angry with a
cause, an opportunity for being angry without a cause might occur to us.
For the end and aim of patience consists, not in being angry with a good
reason, but in not being angry at all. Although I know that by some this
very expression, "without a cause," is taken to mean that he is angry
without a cause who when he is angered is not allowed to seek for
vengeance. But it is better so to take it as we find it written in many
modern copies and all the ancient ones.

CHAPTER XXII: The remedies by which we can root out anger from our hearts.

   WHEREFORE the athlete of Christ who strives lawfully ought thoroughly
to root out the feeling of wrath. And it will be a sure remedy for this
disease, if in the first place we make up our mind that we ought never to
be angry at all, whether for good or bad reasons: as we know that we shall
at once lose the light of discernment, and the security of good counsel,
and our very uprightness, and the temperate character of righteousness, if
the main light of our heart has been darkened by its shadows: next, that
the purity of our soul will presently be clouded, and that it cannot
possibly be made a temple for the Holy Ghost while the spirit of anger
resides in us; lastly, that we should consider that we ought never to pray,
nor pour out our prayer to God, while we are angry. And above all, having
before our eyes the uncertain condition of mankind, we should realize daily
that we are soon to depart from the body, and that our continence and
chastity, our renunciation of all our possessions, our contempt of wealth,
our efforts in fastings and vigils will not help us at all, if solely on
account of anger and hatred eternal punishments are awarded to us by the
judge of the world.

BOOK IX.

OF THE SPIRIT OF DEJECTION.

CHAPTER I: How our fifth combat is against the spirit of dejection, and of
the harm which it inflicts upon the soul.

   IN our fifth combat we have to resist the pangs of gnawing dejection:
for if this, through separate attacks made at random, and by haphazard and
casual changes, has secured an opportunity of gaining possession of our
mind it keeps us back at all times from all insight in divine
contemplation, and utterly ruins and depresses the mind that has fallen
away from its complete state of purity. It does not allow it to say its
prayers with its usual gladness of heart, nor permit it to rely on the
comfort of reading the sacred writings, nor suffer it to be quiet and
gentle with the brethren; it makes it impatient and rough in all the duties
of work and devotion: and, as all wholesome counsel is lost, and
steadfastness of heart destroyed, it makes the feelings almost mad and
drunk, and crushes and overwhelms them with penal despair.

CHAPTER II: Of the care with which the malady of dejection must be healed.

   WHEREFORE if we are anxious to exert ourselves lawfully in the struggle
of our spiritual combat we ought with no less care to set about healing
this malady also. For "as the moth injures the garment, and the worm the
wood, so dejection the heart of man."(1) With sufficient clearness and
appropriateness has the Divine Spirit expressed the force of this dangerous
and most injurious fault.

CHAPTER III: To what the soul may be compared which is a prey to the
attacks of dejection.

   FOR the garment that is moth-eaten has no longer any commercial value
or good use to which it can be put; and in the same way(2) the wood that is
worm-eaten is no longer worth anything for ornamenting even an ordinary
building, but is destined to be burnt in the fire. So therefore the soul
also which is a prey to the attacks of gnawing dejection will be useless
for that priestly garment which, according to the prophecy of the holy
David, the ointment of the Holy Spirit coming down from heaven, first on
Aaron's beard, then on his skirts, is wont to assume: as it is said, "It is
like the ointment upon the head which ran down upon Aaron's beard, which
ran down to the skirts of his clothing.(3) Nor can it have anything to do
with the building or ornamentation of that spiritual temple of which Paul
as a wise master builder laid the foundations, saying, "Ye are the temple
of God, and the Spirit of God dwelleth in you:"(4) and what the beams of
this are like the bride tells us in the Song of Songs: "Our rafters are of
cypress: the beams of our houses are of cedar."(5) And therefore those
sorts of wood are chosen for the temple of God which are fragrant and not
liable to rot, and which are not subject to decay from age nor to be worm-
eaten.

CHAPTER IV: Whence and in what way dejection arises.

   BUT Sometimes it is found to result from the fault of previous anger,
or to spring from the desire of some gain which has not been realized, when
a man has found that he has failed in his hope of securing those things
which he had planned. But sometimes without any apparent reason for our
being driven to fall into this misfortune, we are by the instigation of our
crafty enemy suddenly depressed with so great a gloom that we cannot
receive with ordinary civility the visits of those who are near and dear to
us; and whatever subject of conversation is started by them, we regard it
as ill-timed and out of place; and we can give them no civil answer, as the
gall of bitterness is in possession of every corner of our heart.

CHAPTER V: That disturbances are caused in us not by the faults of other
people, but by our own.

   WHENCE it is clearly proved that the pains of disturbances are not
always caused in us by other people's faults, but rather by our own, as we
have stored up in ourselves the causes of offence, and the seeds of faults,
which, as soon as a shower of temptation waters our soul, at once burst
forth into shoots and fruits.

CHAPTER VI: That no one comes to grief by a sudden fall, but is destroyed
by falling through a long course of carelessness.(1)

   FOR no one is ever driven to sin by being provoked through another's
fault, unless he has the fuel of evil stored up in his own heart. Nor
should we imagine that a man has been deceived suddenly when he has looked
on a woman and fallen into the abyss of shameful lust: but rather that,
owing to the opportunity of looking on her, the symptoms of disease which
were hidden and concealed in his inmost soul have been brought to the
surface.

CHAPTER VII: That we ought not to give up intercourse with our brethren in
order to seek after perfection, but should rather constantly cultivate the
virtue of patience.

   AND so God, the creator of all things, having regard above everything
to the amendment of His own work, and because the roots and causes of our
falls are found not in others, but in ourselves, commands that we should
not give up intercourse with our brethren, nor avoid those who we think
have been hurt by us, or by whom we have been offended, but bids us pacify
them, knowing that perfection of heart is not secured by separating from
men so much as by the virtue of patience. Which when it is securely held,
as it can keep us at peace even with those who hate peace, so, if it has
not been acquired, it makes us perpetually differ from those who are
perfect and better than we are: for opportunities for disturbance, on
account of which we are eager to get away from those with whom we are
connected, will not be wanting so long as we are living among men; and
therefore we shall not escape altogether, but only change the causes of
dejection on account of which we separated from our former friends.

CHAPTER VIII: That if we have improved our character it is possible for us
to get on with everybody.

   WE must then do our best to endeavour to amend our faults and correct
our manners. And if we succeed in correcting them we shall certainly be at
peace, I will not say with men, but even with beasts and the brute
creation, according to what is said in  the book of the blessed Job: "For
the beasts of the field will be at peace with thee;"(2) for we shall not
fear offences coming from without, nor will any occasion of falling trouble
us from outside, if the roots of such are not admitted and implanted within
in our own selves: for "they have great peace who love thy law, O God; and
they have no occasion of falling."(3)

CHAPTER IX: Of another sort of dejection which produces despair of
salvation.

   THERE is, too, another still more objectionable sort of dejection,
which produces in the guilty soul no amendment of life or correction of
faults, but the most destructive despair: which did not make Cain repent
after the murder of his brother, or Judas, after the betrayal, hasten to
relieve himself by making amends, but drove him to hang himself in despair.

CHAPTER X: Of the only thing in which dejection is useful to us.

   AND so we must see that dejection is only useful to us in one case,
when we yield to it either in penitence for sin, or through being inflamed
with the desire of perfection, or the contemplation of future blessedness.
And of this the blessed Apostle says: "The sorrow which is according to God
worketh repentance steadfast unto salvation: but the sorrow of the world
worketh death."(1)

CHAPTER XI: How we can decide what is useful and the sorrow according to
God, and what is devilish and deadly.

   BUT that dejection and sorrow which "worketh repentance steadfast unto
salvation" is obedient, civil, humble, kindly, gentle, and patient, as it
springs from the love of God, and unweariedly extends itself from desire of
perfection to every bodily grief and sorrow of spirit; and somehow or other
rejoicing and feeding on hope of its own profit preserves all the
gentleness of courtesy and forbearance, as it has in itself all the fruits
of the Holy Spirit of which the same Apostle gives the list: "But the fruit
of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, goodness, benignity, faith,
mildness, modesty."(2) But the other kind is rough, impatient, hard, full
of rancour and useless grief and penal despair, and breaks down the man on
whom it has fastened, and hinders him from energy and wholesome sorrow, as
it is unreasonable, and not only hampers the efficacy of his prayers, but
actually destroys all those fruits of the Spirit of which we spoke, which
that other sorrow knows how to produce.

CHAPTER XII: That except that wholesome sorrow, which springs up in three
ways, all sorrow and dejection should be resisted as hurtful.

   WHEREFORE except that sorrow which is endured either for the sake of
saving penitence, or for the sake of aiming at perfection,  or for the
desire of the future, all sorrow and dejection must equally be resisted, as
belonging to this world, and being that which "worketh death," and must be
entirely expelled from our hearts like the spirit of fornication and
covetousness and anger.

CHAPTER XIII: The means by which we can root out dejection from our hearts.

   WE should then be able to expel this most injurious passion from our
hearts, so that by spiritual meditation we may keep our mind constantly
occupied with hope of the future and contemplation of the promised
blessedness. For in this way we shall be able to get the better of all
those sorts of dejection, whether those which flow from previous anger or
those which come to us from disappointment of gain, or from some loss, or
those which spring from a wrong done to us, or those which arise from an
unreasonable disturbance of mind, or those which bring on us a deadly
despair, if, ever joyful with an insight into things eternal and future,
and continuing immovable, we are not depressed by present accidents, or
over-elated by prosperity, but look on each condition as uncertain and
likely soon to pass away.

BOOK X.

OF THE SPIRIT OF ACCIDIE.(3)

CHAPTER I: How our sixth combat is against the spirit of accidie, and what
its character is.

   OUR sixth combat is with what the Greeks call akhdi'a, which we may
term weariness or distress of heart. This is akin to dejection, and is
especially trying to solitaires, and a dangerous and frequent foe to
dwellers in the desert; and especially disturbing to a monk about the sixth
hour, like some fever which seizes him at stated times, bringing the
burning heat of its attacks on the sick man at usual and regular hours.
Lastly, there are some of the elders who declare that this is the "midday
demon" spoken of in the ninetieth Psalm.(4)

CHAPTER II: A description of accidie, and the way in which it creeps over
the heart of a monk, and the injury it inflicts on the soul.

   AND when this has taken possession of some unhappy soul, it produces
dislike of the place, disgust with the cell, and disdain and contempt of
the brethren who dwell with him or at a little distance, as if they were
careless or unspiritual. It also makes the man lazy and sluggish about all
manner of work which has to be done within the enclosure of his dormitory.
It does not suffer him to stay in his cell, or to take any pains about
reading, and he often groans because he can do no good while he stays
there, and complains and sighs because he can bear no spiritual fruit so
long as he is joined to that society; and he complains that he is cut off
from spiritual gain, and is of no use in the place, as if he were one who,
though he could govern others and be useful to a great number of people,
yet was edifying none, nor profiling any one by his teaching and doctrine.
He cries up l distant monasteries and those which are a long way off, and
describes such places as more profitable and better suited for salvation;
and besides this he paints the intercourse with the brethren there as sweet
and full of spiritual life. On the other hand, he says that everything
about him is rough, and not only that there is nothing edifying among the
brethren who are stopping there, but also that even food for the body
cannot be procured without great difficulty. Lastly he fancies that he will
never be well while he stays in that place, unless he leaves his cell (in
which he is lure to die if he stops in it any longer) and takes himself off
from thence as quickly as possible. Then the fifth or sixth hour brings him
such bodily weariness and longing for food that he seems to himself worn
out and wearied as if with a long journey, or some very heavy work, or as
if he had put off taking food during a fast of two or three days. Then
besides this he looks about anxiously this way and that, and sighs that
none of the brethren come to see him, and often goes in and out of his
cell, and frequently gazes up at the sun, as if it was too slow in setting,
and so a kind of unreasonable confusion of mind takes possession of him
like some foul darkness,(1) and makes him idle and useless for every
spiritual work, so that he imagines that no cure for so terrible an attack
can be found in anything except visiting some one of the brethren, or in
the solace of sleep alone. Then the disease suggests that he ought to show
courteous and friendly hospitalities to the brethren, and pay visits to the
sick, whether near at hand or far off. He talks too about some dutiful and
religious offices; that those kinsfolk ought to be inquired after, and that
he ought to go and see them oftener; that it would be a real work of piety
to go more frequently to visit that religious woman, devoted to the service
of God, who is deprived of all support of kindred; and that it would be a
most excellent thing to get what is needful for her who is neglected and
despised by her own kinsfolk; and that he ought piously to devote his time
to these things instead of staying uselessly and with no profit in his
cell.

CHAPTER III: Of the different ways in which accidie overcomes a monk.

   AND so the wretched soul, embarrassed by such contrivances of the
enemy, is disturbed, until, worn out by the spirit of accidie, as by some
strong battering ram, it either learns to sink into slumber, or, driven out
from the confinement of its cell, accustoms itself to seek for consolation
under these attacks in visiting some brother, only to be afterwards
weakened the more by this remedy which it seeks for the present. For more
frequently and more severely will the enemy attack one who, when the battle
is joined, will as he well knows immediately turn his back, and whom he
sees to look for safety neither in victory nor in fighting but in flight:
until little by little he is drawn away from his cell, and begins to forget
the object of his profession, which is nothing but meditation and
contemplation of that divine purity which excels all things, and which can
only be gained by silence and continually remaining in the cell, and by
meditation, and so the soldier of Christ becomes a runaway from His
service, and a deserter, and "entangles himself in secular business,"
without at all pleasing Him to whom he engaged himself.(2)

CHAPTER IV: How accidie hinders the mind from all contemplation of the
virtues.

   ALL the inconveniences of this disease are admirably expressed by David
in a single verse, where he says, "My soul slept from weariness,"(8) that
is, from accidie. Quite rightly does he say, not that his body, but that
his soul slept. For in truth the soul which is wounded by the shaft of this
passion does  sleep, as regards all contemplation of the virtues and
insight of the spiritual senses.

CHAPTER V: How the attack of accidie is twofold.

   AND so the true Christian athlete who desires to strive lawfully in the
lists of perfection, should hasten to expel this disease also from the
recesses of his soul; and should strive against this most evil spirit of
accidie in both directions, so that he may neither fall stricken through by
the shaft of slumber, nor be driven out from the monastic cloister, even
though under some pious excuse or pretext, and depart as a runaway.

CHAPTER VI:  How injurious are the effects of accidie.

   AND whenever it begins in any degree to overcome any one, it either
makes him stay in his cell idle and lazy, without making any spiritual
progress, or it drives him out from thence and makes him restless and a
wanderer, and indolent in the matter of all kinds of work, and it makes him
continually go round, the cells of the brethren and the monasteries, with
an eye to nothing but this; viz., where or with what excuse he can
presently procure some refreshment. For the mind of an idler cannot think
of anything but food and the belly, until the society of some man or woman,
equally cold and indifferent, is secured, and it loses itself in their
affairs and business, and is thus little by little ensnared by dangerous
occupations, so that, just as if it were bound up in the coils of a
serpent, it can never disentangle itself again and return to the perfection
of its former profession.

CHAPTER VII: Testimonies from the Apostle concerning the spirit of acciie.

   THE blessed Apostle, like a true and spiritual physician, either seeing
this disease, which springs from the spirit of accidie, already creeping
in, or foreseeing, through the revelation of the Holy Spirit, that it would
arise among monks, is quick to anticipate it by the healing medicines of
his directions. For in writing to the Thessalonians, and at first, like a
skilful and excellent physician, applying to the infirmity of his patients
the soothing and gentle remedy of his words, and beginning with charity,
and praising them in that point, that(1) this deadly wound, having been
treated with a milder remedy, might lose its angry fostering and more
easily bear severer treatment, he says: "But concerning brotherly charity
ye have no need that I write to you: for you yourselves are taught of God
to love one another. For this ye do toward all the brethren in the whole of
Macedonia."(2) He first began with the soothing application of praise, and
made their ears submissive and ready for the remedy of the healing words.
Then he proceeds: "But we ask you, brethren, to abound more." Thus far he
soothes them with kind and gentle words; for fear lest he should find them
not yet prepared to receive their perfect cure. Why is it that you ask, O
Apostle, that they may abound more in charity, of which you had said above,
"But concerning brotherly charity we have no need to write to you"? And why
is it necessary that you should say to them: "But we ask you to abound
more," when they did not need o be written to at all on this matter?
especially as you add the reason why they do not need it, saying, "For you
yourselves have been aught of God to love one another." And you add a third
thing still more important: hat not only have they been taught of God, but
also that they fulfil in deed that which they are taught. "For ye do this,"
he says, not to one or two, but "to all the brethren;" and not to your own
citizens and friends only, but "in the whole of Macedonia." Tell us then, I
pray, why it is that you so particularly begin with this. Again he
proceeds, "But we ask you, brethren, to abound the more." And with
difficulty at last he breaks out into that at which he was driving before:
"and that ye take pains to be quiet." He gave the first aim. Then he adds a
second, "and to do your own business;" and a third as well: "and work with
your own hands, as we commanded you;" a fourth: "and to walk honestly
towards those that are without;"a fifth: "and to covet no man's goods." Lo,
we can see through that hesitation, which made him with these preludes put
off uttering what his mind was full of: "And that ye take pains to be
quiet;" i.e., that you stop in your cells, and be not disturbed by rumours,
which generally spring from the wishes and gossip of idle persons, and so
yourselves disturb others. And, "to do your own business," you should not
want to require curiously of the world's actions, or, examining the lives
of others, want to spend your strength, not on bettering yourselves and
aiming at virtue, but on depreciating your brethren. "And work with your
own hands, as we charged you;" to secure that which he had warned them
above not to do; i.e., that they should not be restless and anxious about
other people's affairs, nor walk dishonestly towards those without, nor
covet another man's goods, he now adds and says, "and work with your own
hands, as we charged you." For he has clearly shown that leisure the reason
why those things were done which he blamed above. For no one can be
restless or anxious about other people's affairs, but one who is not
satisfied to apply himself to the work of his own hands. He adds also a
fourth evil, which springs also from this leisure, i.e., that they should
not walk dishonestly: when he says: "And that ye walk honestly towards
those without." He cannot possibly walk honestly, even among those who are
men of this world, who is not content to cling to the seclusion of his cell
and the work of his own hands; but he is sure to be dishonest, while he
seeks his needful food; and to take pains to flatter, to follow up news and
gossip, to seek for opportunities for chattering and stories by means of
which he may gain a footing and obtain an entrance into the houses of
others. "And that you should not covet another man's goods." He is sure to
look with envious eyes on another's gifts and boons, who does not care to
secure sufficient for his daily food by the dutiful and peaceful labour of
his hands. You see what conditions, and how serious and shameful ones,
spring solely from the malady of leisure. Lastly, those very people, whom
in his first Epistle he had treated with the gentle application of his
words, in his second Epistle he endeavours to heal with severer and sterner
remedies, as those who had not profited by more gentle treatment; and he no
longer applies the treatment of gentle words, no mild and kindly
expressions, as these, "But we ask you, brethren," but "We adjure you,
brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that ye withdraw from every
brother that walketh disorderly."(1) There he asks; here he adjures. There
is the kindness of one who is persuading; here the sternness of one
protesting and threatening. "We adjure you, brethren:" because, when we
first asked you, you scorned to listen; now at least obey our threats. And
this adjuration he renders terrible, not by his bare word, but by the
imprecation of the name of our Lord Jesus Christ: for fear lest they might
again scorn it, as merely man's word, and think that it was not of much
importance. And forthwith, like a well-skilled physician with festering
limbs, to which he could not apply the remedy of a mild treatment, he tries
to cure by an incision with a spiritual knife, saying, "that ye withdraw
yourselves from every brother that walketh disorderly, and not according to
the tradition which ye received of us." And so he bids them withdraw from
those who will not make time for work, and to cut them off like limbs
tainted with the festering sores of leisure: lest the malady of idleness,
like some deadly contagion, might infect even the healthy portion of their
limbs, by the gradual advance of infection. And when he is going to speak
of those who will not work with their own hands and eat their bread in
quietness, from whom he urges them to withdraw, hear with what reproaches
he brands them at starting. First he calls them "disorderly," and "not
walking according to the tradition." In other words, he stigmatizes them as
obstinate, since they will not walk according to his appointment; and
"dishonest," i.e., not keeping to the right and proper times for going out,
and visiting, and talking. For a disorderly person is sure to be subject to
all those faults. "And not according to the tradition which they received
from us." And in this he stamps them as in some sort rebellious, and
despisers, who scorned to keep the tradition which they had received from
him, and would not follow that which they not only remembered that the
master had taught in word, but which they knew that he had performed in
deed. "For you yourselves know how ye ought to be followers of us." He
heaps up an immense pile of censure when he asserts that they did not
observe that which was still in their memory, and which not only had they
learned by verbal instruction, but also had received by the incitement of
his example in working.

CHAPTER VIII: That he is sure to be restless who will not be content with
the work of his own hands.

   "BECAUSE we were not restless among you." When he wants to prove by the
practice of work that he was not restless among them, he fully shows that
those who will not work are always restless, owing to the fault of
idleness. "Nor did we eat any man's bread for nought." By each expression
the teacher of the Gentiles advances a step in the rebuke.(1) The preacher
of the gospel says that he has not eaten any man's bread for nought, as he
knows that the Lord commanded that "they who preach the gospel should live
of the gospel:"(2) again, "The labourer is worthy of his meat."(3) And so
if he who preached the gospel, performing a work so lofty and spiritual,
did not venture in reliance on the Lord's command to eat his bread for
nought, what shall we do to whom not merely is there no preaching of the
word intrusted, but no cure of souls except our own committed? with what
confidence shall we dare with idle hands to eat our bread for nought, when
the "chosen vessel," constrained by his anxiety for the gospel and his work
of preaching, did not venture to eat without labouring with his own hands?
"But in labour," he says "and weariness, working night and day lest we
should be burdensome to any of you."(4) Up to this point he amplifies and
adds to his rebuke. For he did not simply say, "We did not eat bread for
nought from any of and then stop short. For it might have been thought that
he was supported by his own private means, and by money which he had saved,
or by other people's, though not by their collections and gifts. "But in
labour," he says, "and weariness, working night and day is, being specially
supported by our own labour. And this, he says, we did not of our own wish,
and for our own pleasure, as rest and bodily exercise suggested, but as our
necessities and the want of food compelled us to do, and that not without
great bodily weariness. For not only throughout the whole day, but also by
night, which seems to be granted for bodily rest, I was continually plying
the work of my hands, through anxiety for food.

CHAPTER IX: That not the Apostle only, but those two who were with him
laboured with their own hands.

   AND he testifies that it was not he alone who so lived among them, lest
haply this method might not seem important or general if he depended only
on his example. But he declares that all those who were appointed with him
for the ministry of the gospel, i.e., Silvanus and Timothy, who wrote this
with him, worked in the same fashion. For by saying, "lest we should be
burdensome to any of you, he covers them with great shame. For if he who
preached the gospel and commended it by signs and mighty works, did not
dare to eat bread for nought, lest he should be burdensome to any, how can
those men help thinking that they are burdensome who take it every day in
idleness and at their leisure?

CHAPTER X: That for this reason the Apostle laboured with his own hands,
that he might set us an example of work.

   "NOT as if we had not power; but that we might give ourselves a pattern
to you to imitate us." He lays bare the reason why he imposed such labour
on himself: "that we might," says he, "give a pattern to you to imitate us,
that if by chance you become forgetful of the teaching of our words which
so often passes through your ears, you may at least keep in your
recollection the example of my manner of life given to you by ocular
demonstration. There is here too no slight reproof of them, where he says
that he has gone through this labour and weariness by night and day, for no
other reason but to set an example, and that nevertheless they would not be
instructed, for whose sakes he, although not obliged to do it, yet imposed
on himself such toil. "And indeed," he says "though we had the power, and
opportunities were open to us of using all your goods and substance, and I
knew that I had the permission s of our Lord to use them: yet I did not use
this power, lest what was rightly and lawfully done on my part might set an
example of dangerous idleness to others. And therefore when preaching the
gospel, I preferred to be supported by my own hands and work, that I might
open up the way of perfection to you who wish to walk in the path of
virtue, and might set an example of good life by my work."

CHAPTER XI: That he preached and taught men to work not only by his
example, but also by his words.

   BUT lest haply it might be thought that, while he worked in silence and
tried to teach them by example, he had not instructed them by precepts and
warnings, he proceeds to say: "For when we were with you, this we declared
to you, that if a man will not work neither should he eat." Still greater
does he make their idleness appear, for, though they knew that he, like a
good master, worked with his hands for the sake of his teaching and in
order to instruct them, yet they were ashamed to imitate him; and he
emphasizes our diligence and care by saying that he did not only give them
this for an example when present, but that he also proclaimed it
continually in words; saying that if any one would not work, neither should
he eat.

CHAPTER XII: Of his saying: "If any will not work, neither shall he eat."

   AND now he no longer addresses to them the advice of a teacher or
physician, but proceeds with the severity of a judicial sentence, and,
resuming his apostolic authority, pronounces sentence on his despisers as
if from the judgment seat: with that power, I mean, which, when writing
with threats to the Corinthians, he declared was given him of the Lord,
when he charged those taken in sin, that they should make haste and amend
their lives before his coming: thus charging them, "I beseech you that I
may not be bold when I am present, against some, with that power which is
given to me over you." And again: "For if I also should boast somewhat of
the power which the Lord has given me unto edification, and not for your
destruction, I shall not be ashamed."(1) With that power, I say, he
declares, "If a man will not work, neither let him eat." Not punishing them
with a carnal sword, but with the power of the Holy Ghost forbidding them
the goods of this life, that if by chance, thinking but little of the
punishment of future death, they still should remain obstinate through love
of ease, they may at last, forced by the requirements of nature and the
fear of immediate death, be compelled to obey his salutary charge.

CHAPTER XIII: Of his saying: "We have heard that some among you walk
disorderly."

   Then after all this rigour of gospel severity, he now lays bare the
reason why he put forward all these matters. "For we have heard that some
among you walk disorderly, working not at all, but curiously meddling." He
is nowhere satisfied to speak of those who will not give themselves up to
work, as if they were victims of but a single malady. For in his first
Epistle(2) he speaks of them as "disorderly," and not walking according to
the traditions which they had received from him: and he also asserts that
they were restless, and ate their bread for nought. Again he says here, "We
have heard that there are some among you who walk disorderly." And at once
he subjoins a second weakness, which is the root of this restlessness, and
says, "working not at all;" a third malady as well he adds, which springs
from this last like some shoot: "but curiously meddling."

CHAPTER XIV: How manual labour(3) prevents many faults.

   And so he loses no time in at once applying a suitable remedy to the
incentive to so many faults, and laying aside that apostolic power of his
which he had made use of a little before, he adopts once more the tender
character of a good father, or of a kind physician, and, as if they were
his children or his patients, applies by his healing counsel remedies to
cure them, saying: "Now we charge them that are such, and beseech them by
the Lord Jesus, that working with silence they would eat their own bread."
The cause of all these ulcers, which spring from the root of idleness, he
heals like some well-skilled physician by a single salutary charge to work;
as he knows that all the other bad symptoms, which spring as it were from
the same clump, will at once diappear when the cause of the chief malady
has been removed.

CHAPTER XV: How kindness should be shown even to the idle and careless.

   NEVERTHELESS, like a far-sighted and careful physician, he is not only
anxious to heal the wounds of the sick, but gives suitable directions as
well to the whole, that their health may be preserved continually, and
says: "But be not ye weary in well doing:" ye who following us, i.e., our
ways, copy the example given to you by imitating us m work, and do not
follow their sloth and laziness: "Do not be weary in well doing;" i.e., do
you likewise show kindness towards them if by chance they have failed to
observe what we said. As then he was severe with those who were weak, for
fear lest being enervated by laziness they might yield to restlessness and
inquisitiveness, so he admonishes those who are in good health neither to
restrain that kindness which the Lord's command bids us show to the good
and evil,(1) even if some bad men will not turn to sound doctrine; nor to
desist from doing good and encouraging them both by words of consolation
and by rebuke as well as by ordinary kindness and civility.

CHAPTER XVI: How we ought to admonish those who go wrong, not out of
hatred, but out of love.

   BUT again in case some might be encouraged by this gentleness, and
scorn to obey his commands, he proceeds with the severity of an apostle:
"But if any man obey not our word by this Epistle, note that man and do not
keep company with him that he may be ashamed." And in warning them of what
they ought to observe out of regard for him and for the good of all, and of
the care with which they should keep the apostolic commands, at once he
joins to the warning the kindness of a most indulgent father; and teaches
them as well, as if they were his children, what a brotherly disposition
they should cultivate towards those mentioned above, out of love. "Yet do
not esteem him as an enemy, but admonish him as a brother." With the
severity of a judge he combines the affection of a father, and tempers with
kindness and gentleness the sentence delivered with apostolic sternness.
For he commands them to note that man who scorns to obey his commands, and
not to keep company with him; and yet he does not bid them do this from a
wrong feeling of dislike, but from brotherly affection and out of
consideration for their amendment. "Do not keep company," he says, "with
him that he may be ashamed;" so that, even if he is not made better by my
mild charges, he may at last be brought to shame by being publicly
separated from all of you, and so may some day begin to be restored to the
way of salvation.

CHAPTER XVII: Different passages in which the Apostle declares that we
ought to work, or in which it is shown that he himself worked.

   IN the Epistle to the Ephesians also he thus gives a charge on this
subject of work, saying: "He that stole, let him now steal no more, but
rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing that is good, that
he may have something to give to him that suffereth need."(3) And in the
Acts of the Apostles too we find that he not only taught this, but actually
practised it himself. For when he had come to Corinth, he did not permit
himself to lodge anywhere except with Aquila and Priscilla, because they
were of the same trade which he himself was accustomed to practise. For we
thus read: "After this, Paul departing from Athens came to Corinth; and
finding a certain Jew named Aquila, born in Pontus, and Priscilla his wife,
he came to them because they were of the same trade; and abode with them,
and worked: for they were tent-makers by trade."(8)

CHAPTER XVIII: That the Apostle wrought what he thought would be sufficient
for him and for others who were with him.

   Then going to Miletus, and from thence sending to Ephesus, and
summoning to him the elders of the church of Ephesus, he charged them how
they ought to rule the church of God in his absence, and said: "I have not
coveted any man's silver and gold; you yourselves know how for such things
as were needful for me and them that are with me these hands have
ministered. I have showed you all things, how that so labouring you ought
to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he
said: It is more blessed to give than to receive."(4) He left us a weighty
example in his manner of life, as he testifies that he not only wrought
what would supply his own bodily wants alone, but also what would be
sufficient for the needs of those who were with him: those, I mean, who,
being taken up with necessary duties, had no chance of procuring food for
themselves with their own hands. And as he tells the Thessalonians that he
had worked to give them an example that they might imitate him, so here too
he implies something of the same sort when he says: "I have showed you all
things, how that so labouring you ought to support the weak," viz., whether
in mind or body; i.e., that we should be diligent in supplying their needs,
not from the store of our abundance, or money laid by, or from another's
generosity and substance, but rather by securing the necessary sum by our
own labour and toil.

CHAPTER XIX: How we should understand these words: "It is more blessed to
give than to receive."

   AND he says that this is a command of the Lord: "For He Himself,"
namely the Lord Jesus, said he, "said it is more blessed to give than to
receive." That is, the bounty of the giver is more blessed than the need of
the receiver, where the gift is not supplied from money that has been kept
back through unbelief or faithlessness, nor from the stored- up treasures
of avarice, but is produced from the fruits of our own labour and honest
toil. And so "it is more blessed to give than to receive," because while
the giver shares the poverty of the receiver, yet still he is diligent in
providing with pious care by his own toil, not merely enough for his own
needs, but also what he can give to one in want; and so he is adorned with
a double grace, since by giving away all his goods he secures the perfect
abnegation of Christ, and yet by his labour and thought displays the
generosity of the rich; thus honouring God by his honest labours, and
plucking for him the fruits of his righteousness, while another, enervated
by sloth and indolent laziness, proves himself by the saying of the Apostle
unworthy of food, as in defiance of his command he takes it in idleness,
not without the guilt of sin and of obstinacy.

CHAPTER XX: Of a lazy brother who tried to persuade others to leave the
monastery.

   WE know a brother, whose name we would give if it would do any good,
who, although he was remaining in the monastery and compelled to deliver to
the steward his fixed task daily, yet for fear lest he might be led on to
some larger portion of work, or put to shame by the example of one
labouring more zealously, when he had seen some brother admitted into the
monastery, who in the ardour of his faith wanted to make up the sale of a
larger piece of work, if he found that he could not by secret persuasion
check him from carrying out his purpose, he would by bad advice and
whisperings persuade him to depart thence. And in order to get rid of him
more easily he would pretend that he also had already been for many reasons
offended, and wanted to leave, if only he could find a companion and
support for the journey. And when by secretly running down the monastery he
had wheedled him into consenting, and arranged with him the time at which
to leave the monastery, and the place to which he should go before, and
where he should wait for him, he himself, pretending that he would follow,
stopped where he was. And when the other out of shame for his flight did
not dare to return again to the monastery from which he had run away, the
miserable author of his flight stopped behind in the monastery. It will be
enough to have given this single instance of this sort of men in order to
put beginners on their guard, and to show clearly what evils idleness, as
Scripture says,(1) can produce in the mind of a monk, and how "evil
communications corrupt good manners."(2)

CHAPTER XXI: Different passages from the writings of Solomon against
accidie.

   AND Solomon, the wisest of men, clearly points to this fault of
idleness in many passages, as he says: "He that followeth idleness shall be
filled with poverty,"(3) either visible or invisible, in which an idle
person and one entangled with different faults is sure to be involved, and
he will always be a stranger to the contemplation of God, and to spiritual
riches, of which the blessed Apostle says: "For in all things ye were
enriched in him, in all utterance and in all knowledge."(4) But concerning
this poverty of the idler elsewhere he also writes thus: "Every sluggard
shall be clothed in torn garments and rags."(5) For certainly he will not
merit to be adorned with that garment of incorruption (of which the Apostle
says, "Put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ,"(6) and again: "Being clothed in
the breastplate of righteousness and charity,"(7) concerning which the Lord
Himself also speaks to Jerusalem by the prophet: "Arise, arise, O
Jerusalem, put on the garments of thy glory),"(8) whoever, overpowered by
lazy slumber or by accidie, prefers to be clothed, not by his labour and
industry, but in the rags of idleness, which he tears off from the solid
piece and body of the Scriptures, and fits on to his sloth no garment of
glory and honour, but an ignominious cloak and excuse. For those,  who are
affected by this laziness, and do not like to support themselves by the
labour of their own hands, as the Apostle continually did and charged us to
do, are wont to make use of certain Scripture proofs by which they try to
cloak their idleness, saying that it is written, "Labour not for the meat
that perisheth, but for that which remains to life eternal;"(9) and "My
meat is to do the will of my Father."(10) But these proofs are (as it were)
rags, from the solid piece of the gospel, which are adopted for this
purpose, viz., to cover the disgrace of our idleness and shame rather than
to keep us warm, and adorn us with that costly and splendid garment of
virtue which that wise woman in the Proverbs, who was clothed with strength
and beauty, is said to have made either for herself or for her husband; of
which presently it is said: "Strength and beauty are her clothing, and she
rejoices in the latter days."(1) Of this evil of idleness Solomon thus
makes mention again: "The ways of the idlers are strown with thorns;"(2)
i.e., with these and similar faults, which the Apostle above declared to
spring from idleness. And again: "Every sluggard is always in want."(3) And
of these the Apostle makes mention when he says, "And that you want nothing
of any man's."(4) And finally: "For idleness has been the teacher of many
evils:"(5) which the Apostle has clearly enumerated in the passage which he
expounded above: "Working not at all, but curiously meddling." To this
fault also he joins another: "And that ye study to be quiet;" and then,
"that ye should do your own business and walk honestly towards them that
are without, and that you want nothing of any man's." Those also whom he
notes as disorderly and rebellious, from these he charges those who are
earnest to separate themselves: "That ye withdraw yourselves," says he,
"from every brother that walketh disorderly and not according to the
tradition which they received from us."(6)

CHAPTER XXII: How the brethren in Egypt work with their hands, not only to
supply their own needs, but also to minister to those who are in prison.

   AND so taught by these examples the Fathers in Egypt never allow monks,
and especially the younger ones, to be idle,(7) estimating the purpose of
their hearts and their growth in patience and humility by their diligence
in work; and they not only do not allow them to receive anything from
another to supply their own wants, but further, they not merely refresh
pilgrims and brethren who come to visit them by means of their labours, but
actually collect an enormous store of provisions and food, and distribute
it in the parts of Libya which suffer from famine and barrenness, and also
in the cities, to those who are pining away in the squalor of prison; as
they believe that by such an offering of the fruit of their hands they
offer a reasonable and true sacrifice to the Lord.

CHAPTER XXIII: That idleness is the reason why there are not monasteries
for monks in the West.

   HENCE it is that in these countries we see no monasteries found with
such numbers of brethren: for they are not supported by the resources of
their own labour in such a way that they can remain in them continually;
and if in some way or other, through the liberality of another, there
should be a sufficient provision to supply them, yet love of ease and
restlessness of heart does not suffer them to continue long in the place.
Whence this saying has been handed down from the old fathers in Egypt: that
a monk who works is attacked by but one devil; but an idler is tormented by
countless spirits.

CHAPTER XXIV: Abbot Paul[8] who every year burnt with fire all the works of
his hands.

   LASTLY, Abbot Paul, one of the greatest of the Fathers, while he was
living in a vast desert which is called the Porphyrian desert,(9) and being
relieved from anxiety by the date palms and a small garden, had plenty to
support himself, and an ample supply of food, and could not find any other
work to do, which would support him, because his dwelling was separated
from towns and inhabited districts by seven days' journey, (10) or even
more, through the desert, and more would be asked for the carriage of the
goods than the price of the work would be worth; he collected the leaves of
the palms, and regularly exacted of himself his daily task, as if he was to
be supported by it. And when his cave had been filled with a whole year's
work, each year he would burn with fire that at which he had so diligently
laboured: thus proving that without manual labour a monk cannot stop in a
place nor rise to the heights of perfection: so that, though the need for
food did not require this to be done, yet he performed it simply for the
sake of purifying his heart, and strengthening his thoughts, and persisting
in his cell, and gaining a victory over accidie and driving it away.

CHAPTER XXV: The words of Abbot Moses which he said to me about the cure of
accidie.

   WHEN I was beginning my stay in the desert, and had said to Abbot
Moses, the chief of all the saints, that I had been terribly troubled
yesterday by an attack of accidie, and that I could only be freed from it
by running at once to Abbot Paul, he said, "You have not freed yourself
from it, but rather have given yourself up to it as its slave and subject.
For the enemy will henceforth attack you more strongly as a deserter and
runaway, since it has seen that you fled at once when overcome in the
conflict: unless on a second occasion when you join battle with it you make
up your mind not to dispel its attacks and heats for the moment by
deserting your cell, or by the inactivity of sleep, but rather learn to
triumph over it by endurance and conflict." Whence it is proved by
experience that a fit of accidie should not be evaded by running away from
it, but overcome by resisting it.(1)

BOOK XI.

OF THE SPIRIT OF VAINGLORY.

CHAPTER I: How our seventh combat is against the spirit of vainglory, and
what its nature

   OUR seventh combat is against the spirit of kenodoxi'a, which we may
term vain or idle glory: a spirit that takes many shapes, and is changeable
and subtle, so that it can with difficulty, I will not say be guarded
against, but be seen through and discovered even by the keenest eyes.

CHAPTER II: How vainglory attacks a monk not only on his carnal, but also
on his spiritual side.

   FOR not only does this, like the rest of his faults, attack a monk on
his carnal side, but on his spiritual side as well, insinuating itself by
craft and guile into his mind: so that those who cannot be deceived by
carnal vices are more grievously wounded through their spiritual
proficiency; and it is so much the worse to fight against, as it is harder
to guard against. For the attack of all other vices is more open and
straightforward, and in the case of each of them, when he who stirs them up
is met by a determined refusal, he will go away the weaker for it, and the
adversary who has been beaten will on the next occasion attack his victim
with less vigour. But this malady when it has attacked the mind by means of
carnal pride, and has been repulsed by the shield of reply, again, like
some wickedness that takes many shapes, changes its former guise and
character, and under the appearance of the virtues tries to strike down and
destroy its conqueror.

CHAPTER III: How many forms and shapes vainglory takes.

   FOR our other faults and passions may be said to be simpler and of but
one form: but this takes many forms and shapes, and changes about and
assails the man who stands up against it from every quarter, and assaults
its conqueror on all sides. For it tries to injure the soldier of Christ in
his dress, in his manner, his walk, his voice, his work, his vigils, his
fasts, his prayers, when he withdraws, when he reads, in his knowledge, his
silence, his obedience, his humility, his patience; and like some most
dangerous rock hidden by surging waves, it causes an unforeseen and
miserable shipwreck to those who are sailing with a fair breeze, while they
are not on the lookout for it or guarding against it.

CHAPTER IV: How vainglory attacks a monk on the right had and on the left.

   AND so one who wishes to go along the King's highway by means of the
"arms of righteousness which are on the right hand and on the left," ought
by the teaching of the Apostle to pass through "honour and dishonour, evil
report and good report,"(1) and with such care to direct his virtuous
course amid the swelling waves of temptation, with discretion at the helm,
and the Spirit of the Lord breathing on us, since we know that if we
deviate ever so little to the right hand or to the left, we shall presently
be dashed against most dangerous crags. And so we are warned by Solomon,
the wisest of men: "Turn not aside to the right hand or to the left;"(2)
i.e., do not flatter yourself on your virtues and be puffed up by your
spiritual achievements on the right hand; nor, swerving to the path of
vices on the left hand, seek from them for yourself (to use the words of
the Apostle) "glory in your shame."(3) For where the devil cannot create
vainglory in a man by means of his well-fitting and neat dress, he tries to
introduce it by means of a dirty, cheap, and uncared-for style. If he
cannot drag a man down by honour, he overthrows him by humility. If he
cannot make him puffed up by the grace of knowledge and eloquence, he pulls
him down by the weight of silence. If a man fasts openly, he is attacked by
the pride of vanity. If he conceals it for the sake of despising the glory
of it, he is assailed by the same sin of pride. In order that he may not be
defiled by the stains of vainglory he avoids making long prayers in the
sight of the brethren; and yet because he offers them secretly and has no
one who is conscious of it, he does not escape the pride of vanity.

CHAPTER V: A comparison which shows the nature of vainglory.

   OUR elders admirably describe the nature of this malady as like that of
an onion, and of those bulbs which When stripped of one covering you find
to be sheathed m another; and as often as you strip them, you find them
still protected.

CHAPTER VI: That vainglory is not altogther got rid of by the advantages of
solitude.

   IN solitude also it does not cease from pursuing him who has for the
sake of glory fled from intercourse with all men. And the more thoroughly a
man has shunned the whole world, so much the more keenly does it pursue
him. It tries to lift up with pride one man because of his great endurance
of work and labour, another because of his extreme readiness to obey,
another because he outstrips other men in humility. One man is tempted
through the extent of his knowledge, another through the extent of his
reading, another through the length of his vigils. Nor does this malady
endeavour to wound a man except through his virtues; introducing hindrances
which lead to death by means of those very things through which the
supplies of life are sought. For when men are anxious to walk in the path
of holiness and perfection, the enemies do not lay their snares to deceive
them anywhere except in the way along which they walk, in accordance with
that saying of the blessed David: "In the way wherein I walked have they
laid a snare for me;"(4) that in this very way of virtue along which we are
walking, when pressing on to "the prize of our high calling,"(5) we may be
elated by our successes, and so sink down, and fall with the feet of our
soul entangled and caught in the snares of vainglory. And so it results
that those of us who could not be vanquished in the conflict with the foe
are overcome by the very greatness of our triumph, or else (which is
another kind of deception) that, overstraining the limits of that self-
restraint which is possible to us, we fail of perseverance in our course on
account of bodily weakness.

CHAPTER VII: How vainglory, when it has been overcome, rises again keener
than ever for the fight.

   ALL, vices when overcome grow feeble, and when beaten are day by day
rendered weaker, and both in regard to place and time grow less and
subside, or at any rate, as they are unlike the opposite virtues, are more
easily shunned and avoided: but this one when it is beaten rises again
keener than ever for the struggle; and when we think that it is destroyed,
it revives again, the stronger for its death. The other kinds of vices
usually only attack those whom they have overcome in the conflict; but this
one pursues its victors only the more keenly; and the more thoroughly it
has been resisted, so much the more vigorously does it attack the man who
is elated by his victory over it. And heroin lies the crafty cunning of our
adversary, namely, in the fact that, where he cannot overcome the soldier
of Christ by the weapons of the foe, he lays him low by his own spear.

CHAPTER VIII: How vainglory is not allayed either in the desert or through
advancing years.

   OTHER vices, as we said, are sometimes allayed by the advantages of
position, and when the matter of the sin and the occasion and opportunity
for it are removed, grow slack, and are diminished: but this one penetrates
the deserts with the man who is flying from it, nor can it be shut out from
any place, nor When outward material for it is removed does it fail. For it
is simply encouraged by the achievements of the virtues of the man whom it
attacks. For all other vices, as we said above, are sometimes diminished by
the lapse of time, and disappear: to this one length of life, unless it is
supported by skilful diligence and prudent discretion, is no hindrance, but
actually supplies it with new fuel for vanity.

CHAPTER IX: That vainglory is the more dangerous through being mixed up
with virtues.

   LASTLY, other passions which are entirely different from the virtues
which are their opposites, and which attack us openly and as it were in
broad daylight, are more easily overcome and guarded against: but this
being interwoven with our virtues and entangled in the battle, fighting as
it were under cover of the darkness of night, deceives the more dangerously
those who are off their guard and not on the lookout.

CHAPTER X: An instance showing how King Hezekiah was overthrown by the dart
of vainglory.

   FOR so we read that Hezekiah, King of Judah, a man of most perfect
righteousness in all things, and one approved by the witness of Holy
Scripture, after unnumbered commendations for his virtues, was overthrown
by a single dart of vainglory. And he who by a single prayer of his was
able to procure the death of a hundred and eighty-five thousand of the army
of the Assyrians, whom the angel destroyed m one night, is overcome by
boasting and vanity. Of whom--to pass over the long list of his virtues,
which it would take a long time to unfold--I will say but this one thing.
He was a man who, after the close of his life had been decreed and the day
of his death determined by the Lord's sentence, prevailed by a single
prayer to extend the limits set to his life by fifteen years, the sun
returning by ten steps, on which it had already shone in its course towards
its setting, and by its return dispersing those lines which the shadow that
followed its course had already marked, and by this giving two days in one
to the whole world, by a stupendous miracle contrary to the fixed laws of
nature.(1) Yet after signs so great and so incredible, after such immense
proofs of his goodness, hear the Scripture tell how he was destroyed by his
very successes. "In those days," we are told, "Hezekiah was sick unto
death: and he prayed to the Lord, and He heard him and gave him a sign,"
that, namely of which we read in the fourth book of the kingdoms, which was
given by Isaiah the prophet through the going back of the sun. "But," it
says, "he did not render again according to the benefits which he had
received, for his heart was lifted up; and wrath was kindled against him
and against Judah and Jerusalem: and he humbled himself afterwards because
his heart had been lifted up, both he and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, and
therefore the wrath of the Lord came not upon them in the days of
Hezekiah."(2) How dangerous, how terrible is the malady of vanity! So much
goodness, so many virtues, faith and devotion, great enough to prevail to
change nature itself and the laws of the whole world, perish by a single
act of pride! So that all his good deeds would have been forgotten as if
they had never been, and he would at once have been subject to the wrath of
the Lord unless he had appeased Him by recovering his humility: so that he
who, at the suggestion of pride, had fallen from so great a height of
excellence, could only mount again to the height he had lost by the same
steps of humility. Do you want to see another instance of a similar
downfall?

CHAPTER XI: The instance of King Uzziah who was overcome by the taint of
the same malady.

   OF Uzziah, the ancestor of this king of whom we have been speaking,
himself also praised in all things by the witness of the Scripture, after
great commendation for his virtue, after countless triumphs which he
achieved by the merit of his devotion and faith, learn how he was cast down
by the pride of vainglory. "And," we are told, "the name of Uzziah went
forth, for the Lord helped him and had strengthened him. But when he was
made strong, his heart was lifted up to his destruction, and he neglected
the Lord his God."(1) You behold another instance of a most terrible
downfall, and see how two men so upright and excellent were undone by their
very triumphs and victories. Whence you see how dangerous the successes of
prosperity generally are, so that those who could not be injured by
adversity are ruined, unless they are careful, by prosperity; and those who
in the conflict of battle have escaped the danger of death fall before
their own trophies and triumphs.

CHAPTER XII: Several testimonies against vainglory.

   AND so the Apostle warns us: "Be not desirous of vainglory."(2) And the
Lord, rebuking the Pharisees, says, "How can ye believe, who receive glory
from one another, and seek not the glory which comes from God alone?"(8) Of
these too the blessed David speaks with a threat: "For God hath scattered
the bones of them that please men."(4)

CHAPTER XIII: Of the ways in which vainglory attacks a monk.

   Is the case also of beginners and of those who have as yet made but
little progress either in powers of mind or in knowledge it usually puffs
up their minds, either because of the quality of their voice because they
can sing well, or because their bodies are emaciated,(5) or because they
are of a good figure, or because they have rich and noble kinsfolk, or
because they have despised a military life and honours. Sometimes too it
persuades a man that if he had remained in the world he would easily have
obtained honours and riches, which perhaps could not possibly have been
secured, and inflates him with a vain hope of uncertain things; and in the
case of those things which he never possessed, puffs him up with pride and
vanity, as if he were one who had despised them.

CHAPTER XIV:  How it suggests that a man may seek to take holy orders.

   BUT sometimes it creates a wish to take holy orders, and a desire for
the priesthood or diaconate. And it represents that if a man has even
against his will received this office, he will fulfil it with such sanctity
and strictness that he will be able to set an example of saintliness even
to other priests; and that he will win over many people, not only by his
manner of life, but also by his teaching and preaching. It makes a man,
even when alone and sitting in his cell, to go round in mind and
imagination to the dwellings and monasteries of others, and to make many
conversions under the inducements of imaginary exultatio

CHAPTER XV: How vainglory intoxicates the mind.

   AND so the miserable soul is affected by such vanity--as if it were
deluded by a profound slumber--that it is often led away by the pleasure of
such thoughts, and filled with such imaginations, so that it cannot even
look at things present, or the brethren, while it enjoys dwelling upon
these things, of which with its wandering thoughts it has waking dreams, as
if they were true.

CHAPTER XVI: Of him whom the superior came upon and found in his cell,
deluded by idle vainglory.

   I REMEMBER an elder, when I was staying in the desert of Scete, who
went to the cell of a certain brother to pay him a visit, and when he had
reached the door heard him muttering inside, and stood still for a little
while, wanting to know what it was that he was reading from the Bible or
repeating by heart (as is customary) while he was at work. And when this
most excellent eavesdropper diligently applied his ear and listened with
some curiosity, he found that the man was induced by an attack of this
spirit to fancy that he was delivering a stirring sermon to the people. And
when the elder, as he stood still, heard him finish his discourse and
return again to his office, and give out the dismissal of the catechumens,
as the deacon does,(6) then at last he knocked at the door, and the man
came out, and met the elder with the customary reverence, and brought him
in and (for his knowledge of what had been his thoughts made him uneasy)
asked him when he had arrived, for fear lest he might have taken some harm
from standing too long at the door: and the old man joking pleasantly
replied, "I only got here while you were giving out the dismissal of the
catechumens."

CHAPTER XVII: How faults cannot be cured unless their roots and causes have
been discovered.

   I THOUGHT it well to insert these things in this little work of mine,
that we might learn, not only by reason, but also by examples, about the
force of temptations and the order of the sins which hurt an unfortunate
soul, and so might be more careful in avoiding the snares and manifold
deceits of the enemy. For these things are indiscriminately brought forward
by the Egyptian fathers, that by telling them, as those who are still
enduring them, they may disclose and lay bare the combats with all the
vices, which they actually do suffer, and those which the younger ones are
sure to suffer; so that, when they explain the illusions arising from all
the passions, those who are but beginners and fervent in spirit may know
the secret of their struggles, and seeing them as in a glass, may learn
both the causes of the sins by which they are troubled, and the remedies
for them, and instructed beforehand concerning the approach of future
struggles, may be taught how they ought to guard against them, or to meet
them and to fight with them. As clever physicians are accustomed not only
to heal already existing diseases, but also by a wise skill to seek to
obviate future ones, and to prevent them by their prescriptions and healing
draughts, so these true physicians of the soul, by means of spiritual
conferences, like some celestial antidote, destroy beforehand those
maladies of the soul which would arise, and do not allow them to gain a
footing in the minds of the juniors, as they unfold to them the causes of
the passions which threaten them, and the remedies which will heal them.

CHAPTER XVIII: How a monk ought to avoid women and bishops.

   WHEREFORE this is an old maxim of the Fathers that is still current,--
though I cannot produce it without shame on my own part, since I could not
avoid my own sister, nor escape the hands of the bishop,--viz., that a monk
ought by all means to fly from women and bishops. For neither of them will
allow him who has once been joined in close intercourse any longer to care
for the quiet of his cell, or to continue with pure eyes in divine
contemplation through his insight into holy things.

CHAPTER XIX: Remedies by which we can overcome vainglory.

   AND SO the athlete of Christ who desires to strive lawfully in this
true and spiritual combat, should strive by all means to overcome this
changeable monster of many shapes, which, as it attacks us on every side
like some manifold wickedness, we can escape by such a remedy as this;
viz., thinking on that saying of David: "The Lord hath scattered the bones
of those who please men.(1) To begin with we should not allow ourselves to
do anything at the suggestion of vanity, and for the sake of obtaining
vainglory. Next, when we have begun a thing well, we should endeavour to
maintain it with just the same care, for fear lest afterwards the malady of
vainglory should creep in and make void all the fruits of our labours. And
anything which is of very little use or value in the common life of the
brethren, we should avoid as leading to boasting; and whatever would render
us remarkable amongst the others, and for which credit would be gained
among men, as if we were the only people who could do it, this should be
shunned by us. For by these signs the deadly taint of vainglory will be
shown to cling to us: which we shall most easily escape if we consider that
we shall not merely lose the fruits of those labours of ours which we have
performed at the suggestion of vainglory, but that we shall also be guilty
of a great sin, and as impious persons undergo eternal punishments,
inasmuch as we have wronged God by doing for the favour of men what we
ought to have done for His sake, and are convicted by Him who knows all
secrets of having preferred men to God, and the praise of the world to the
praise of the Lord.

BOOK XII.

CHAPTER I: How our eighth combat is against the spirit of pride, and of its
character.

   OUR eighth and last combat is against the spirit of pride, which evil,
although it is the latest in our conflict with our faults and stands last
on the list, yet in beginning and in the order of time is the first: an
evil beast that is most savage and more dreadful than all the former ones,
chiefly trying those who are perfect, and devouring with its dreadful bite
those who have almost attained the consummation of virtue.

CHAPTER II: How there are two kinds of pride.

   AND of this pride there are two kinds: the one, that by which we said
that the best of men and spiritually minded ones were troubled; the other,
that which assaults even beginners and carnal persons. And though each kind
of pride is excited with regard to both God and man by a dangerous elation,
yet that first kind more particularly has to do with God; the second refers
especially to men. Of the origin of this last and the remedies for it we
will by God's help treat as far as possible in the latter part of this
book. We now propose to say a few things about that former kind, by which,
as I mentioned before, those who are perfect are especially tried.

CHAPTER III: How pride is equally destructive of all virtues.

   There is then no other fault which is so destructive of all virtues,
and robs and despoils a man of all righteousness and holiness, as this evil
of pride, which like some pestilential disease attacks the whole man, and,
not content to damage one part or one limb only, injures the entire body by
its deadly influence, and endeavours to cast down by a most fatal fall, and
destroy those who were already at the top of the tree of the virtues. For
every other fault is satisfied within its own bounds and limits, and though
it clouds other virtues as well, yet it is in the main directed against one
only, and specially attacks and assaults that. And so (to make my meaning
clearer) gluttony, i.e., the appetites of the belly and the pleasures of
the palate, is destructive of strict temperance: lust stains purity, anger
destroys patience: so that sometimes a man who is in bondage to some one
sin is not altogether wanting in other virtues: but being simply deprived
of that one virtue which in the struggle yields to the vice which is its
rival and opposed to it, can to some extent preserve his other virtues: but
this one when once it has taken possession of some unfortunate soul, like
some most brutal tyrant, when the lofty citadel of the virtues has been
taken, utterly destroys and lays waste the whole city; and levelling with
the ground of vices the once high walls of saintliness, and confusing them
together, it allows no shadow of freedom henceforth to survive in the soul
subject to it. And in proportion as it was originally the richer, so now
will the yoke of servitude be the severer, through which by its cruel
ravages it will strip the soul it has subdued of all its powers of virtue.

CHAPTER IV: How by reason of pride Lucifer was turned from an archangel
into a devil.

   AND that we may understand the power of its awful tyranny we see that
that angel who, for the greatness of his splendour and beauty was termed
Lucifer, was cast out of heaven for no other sin but this, and, pierced
with the dart of pride, was hurled down from his grand and exalted position
as an angel into hell. If then pride of heart alone was enough to cast down
from heaven to earth a power that was so great and adorned with the
attributes of such might, the very greatness of his fall shows us with what
care we who are surrounded by the weakness of the flesh ought to be on our
guard. But we can learn how to avoid the most deadly poison of this evil if
we trace out the origin and causes of his fall. For weakness can never be
cured, nor the remedies for bad states of health be disclosed unless first
their origin and causes are investigated by a wise scrutiny. For as he
(viz., Lucifer) was endowed with divine splendour, and shone forth among
the other higher powers by the bounty of his Maker, he believed that he had
acquired the splendour of that wisdom and the beauty of those powers, with
which he was graced by the gift of the Creator, by the might of his own
nature, and not by the beneficence of His generosity. And on this account
he was puffed up as if he stood in no need of divine assistance in order to
continue in this state of purity, and esteemed himself to be like God, as
if, like God, he had no need of any one, and trusting in the power of his
own will, fancied that through it he could richly supply himself with
everything which was necessary for the consummation of virtue or for the
perpetuation of perfect bliss. This thought alone was the cause of his
first fall. On account of which being forsaken by God, whom he fancied he
no longer needed, he suddenly became unstable and tottering, and discovered
the weakness of his own nature, and lost the blessedness which he had
enjoyed by God's gift. And because he "loved the words of ruin," with which
he had said, "I will ascend into heaven," and the "deceitful tongue," with
which he had said of himself, "I will be like the Most High,"(1) and of
Adam and Eve, "Ye shall be as gods," therefore "shall God destroy him
forever and pluck him out and remove him from his dwelling place and his
root out of the land of the living." Then the just, when they see his ruin,
shall fear, and shall laugh at him and say" (what may also be most justly
aimed at those who trust that they can obtain the highest good without the
protection and assistance of God): "Behold the man that made not God his
helper, but trusted in the abundance of his riches, and prevailed in his
vanity."(2)

CHAPTER V: That incentives to all sins spring from pride.

   THIS is the reason of the first fall, and the staring point of the
original malady, which again insinuating itself into the first man,(3)
through him who had already been destroyed by it, produced the weaknesses
and materials, of all faults. For while he believed that by the freedom of
his will and by his own efforts he could obtain the glory of Deity, he
actually lost that glory which he already possessed through the free gift
of the Creator.

CHAPTER VI: That the sin of pride is last in the actual order of the
combat, but first in time and origin.

   AND SO it is most clearly established by instances and testimonies from
Scripture that the mischief of pride, although it comes later in the order
of the combat, is yet earlier in origin, and is the beginning of all sins
and faults: nor is it (like the other vices) simply fatal to the virtue
opposite to it (in this case, humility), but it is also at the same time
destructive of all virtues: nor does it only tempt ordinary folk and small
people, but chiefly those who already stand on the heights of valour.(4)
For thus the prophet speaks of this spirit, "His meat is choice."(5) And so
the blessed David, although he guarded the recesses of his heart with the
utmost care, so that he dared to say to Him from whom the secrets of his
conscience were not hid, "Lord, my heart is not exalted, nor are my eyes
lofty: neither have I walked in great matters, nor in wonderful things
above me. If I was not humbly minded;"(6) and again, "He that worketh pride
shall not dwell in the midst of my house;"(7) yet, as he knew how hard is
that watchfulness even for those that are perfect, he did not so presume on
his own efforts, but prayed to God and implored His help, that he might
escape unwounded by the darts of this foe, saying, "Let not the foot of
pride come to me, "(8) for he feared and dreaded falling into that which is
said of the proud, viz., "God resisteth the proud;"(9) and again: "Every
one that exalteth his heart is unclean before the Lord."(10)

CHAPTER VII: That the evil of pride is so great that it rightly has even
God Himself as its adversary.

   HOW great is the evil of pride, that it rightly has no angel, nor other
virtues opposed to it, but God Himself as its adversary! Since it should be
noted that it is never said of those who are entangled in other sins that
they have God resisting them; I mean it is not said that God is opposed "to
the gluttonous, fornicators, passionate, or covetous," but only "to the
proud." For those sins react only on those who commit them, or seem to be
committed against those who share in them, i.e., against other men; but
this one has more properly to do with God, land therefore it is especially
right that it should have Him opposed to it.

CHAPTER VIII: How God has destroyed the pride of the devil by the virtue of
humility, and various passages in proof of this.

   AND so God, the Creator and Healer of all, knowing that pride is the
cause and fountain head of evils, has been careful to heal opposites with
opposites, that those things which were ruined by pride might be restored
by humility. For the one says, "I will ascend into heaven;"(1) the other,
"My soul was brought low even to the ground."(2) The one says, "And I will
be like the most High;" the other, "Though He was in the form of God, yet
He emptied Himself and took the form of a servant, and humbled Himself and
became obedient unto death."(3) The one says, "I will exalt my throne above
the stars of God;" the other, "Learn of me, for I am meek and lowly of
heart."(4) The one says, "I know not the Lord and will not let Israel
go;"(5) the other, "If I say that I know Him not, I shall be a liar like
unto you: but I know Him, and keep His commandments."(6) The one says, "My
rivers are mine and I made them:"(7) the other: "I can do nothing of
myself, but my Father who abideth in me, He doeth the works."(8) The one
says, "All the kingdoms of the world and the glory of them are mine, and to
whomsoever I will, I give them;"(9) the other, "Though He were rich yet He
became poor, that we through His poverty might be made rich."(10) The one
says, "As eggs are gathered together which are left, so have I gathered all
the earth: and there was none that moved the wing or opened the mouth, or
made the least noise;" (11) the other, "I am become like a solitary
pelican; I watched and became as a sparrow alone upon the roof."(12) The
one says, "I have dried up with the sole of my foot all the rivers shut up
in banks;"(13) the other, "Cannot I ask my Father, and He shall presently
give me mort than twelve legions of angels?"(14) If we look at the reason
of our original fall, and the foundations of our salvation, and consider by
whom and in what way the latter were laid and the former originated, we may
learn, either through the fall of the devil, or through the example of
Christ, how to avoid so terrible a death from pride.

CHAPTER IX: How we too may overcome pride.

   AND SO we can escape the snare of this most evil spirit, if in the case
of every virtue in which we feel that we make progress, we say these words
of the Apostle: "Not I, but the grace of God with me," and "by the grace of
God I am what I am;"(15) and "it is God that worketh in us both to will and
to do of His good pleasure."(16) As the author of our salvation Himself
also says: "If a man abide in me and I in him, the same beareth much fruit;
for without me ye can do nothing."(17) And "Except the Lord build the
house, they labour in vain that build it. Except the Lord keep the city,
the watchman waketh but in vain." And "Vain is it for you to rise up before
light."(18) For "it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth,
but of God that hath mercy."(19)

CHAPTER X: How no one can obtain perfect virtue and the promised bliss by
his own strength alone.

   For the will and course of no one, however eager and anxious,(20) is
sufficiently ready for him, while still enclosed in the flesh which warreth
against the spirit, to reach so great a prize of perfection, and the palm
of uprightness and purity, unless he is protected by the divine compassion,
so that he is privileged to attain to that which he greatly desires and to
which he runs. For "every good gift and every perfect gift is from above,
and cometh down from the Father of lights."(21) "For what hast thou which
thou didst not receive? But if thou hast received it, why dost thou glory
as if thou hadst not received it?"(22) CHAPTER XI: The case of the thief
and of David, and of our call in order to illustrate the grace of God.

   FOR if we recall that thief who was by reason of a single confession
admitted into paradise,(1) we shall feel that he did not acquire such bliss
by the merits of his life, but obtained it by the gift of a merciful God.
Or if we bear in mind those two grievous and heinous sins of King David,
blotted out by one word of penitence,(2) we shall see that neither here
were the merits of his works sufficient to obtain pardon for so great a
sin, but that the grace of God superabounded, as, when the opportunity for
true penitence was taken, He removed the whole weight of sins through the
full confession of but one word. If we consider also the beginning of the
call and salvation of mankind, in which, as the Apostle says, we are saved
not of ourselves, nor of our works, but by the gift and grace of God, we
can clearly see how the whole of perfection is "not of him that willeth nor
of him that runneth, but of God that hath mercy," who makes us victorious
over our faults, without any merits of works and life on our part to
outweigh them, or any effort of our will availing to scale the difficult
heights of perfection, or to subdue the flesh which we have to use: since
no tortures of this body, and no contrition of heart, can be sufficient for
the acquisition of that true chastity of the inner man so as to be able to
gain that great virtue of purity (which is innate m the angels alone and
indigenous as it were to heaven) merely by human efforts, i.e., without the
aid of God: for the performance of everything good flows from His grace,
who by multiplying His bounty has granted such lasting bliss, and vast
glory to our feeble will and short and petty course of life.

CHAPTER XII: That no toil is worthy to be compared with the promised bliss.

   FOR all the long years of this present life disappear when you have
regard to the eternity of the future glory: and all our sorrows vanish away
in the contemplation of that vast bliss, and like smoke melt away, and come
to nothing, and like ashes are no more seen.

CHAPTER XIII: The teaching of the elders on the method of acquiring purity.

   WHEREFORE it is now time to produce, in the very words in which they
hand it down, the opinion of the Fathers; viz., of those who have not
painted the way of perfection and its character in high-sounding words, but
rather, possessing it in deed and truth, and in the virtue of their spirit,
have passed it on by their own experience and sure example. And so they say
that no one can be altogether cleansed from carnal sins, unless he has
realized that all his labours and efforts are insufficient for so great and
perfect an end; and unless, taught, not by the system handed down to him,
but by his feelings and virtues and his own experience, he recognizes that
it can only be gained by the mercy and assistance of God. For in order to
acquire such splendid and lofty prizes of purity and perfection, however
great may be the efforts of fastings and vigils and readings and solitude
and retirement applied to it, they will not be sufficient to secure it by
the merits of the actual efforts and toil For a man's own efforts and human
exertions will never make up for the lack of the divine gift, unless it is
granted by divine compassion in answer to his prayer.

CHAPTER XIV: That the help of God is given to those who labour.(8)

   NOR do I say this to cast a slight on human efforts, or in the
endeavour to discourage any one from his purpose of working and doing his
best. But clearly and most earnestly do I lay down, not giving my own
opinion, but that of the elders, that perfection cannot possibly be gained
without these, but that by these only without the grace of God nobody can
ever attain it. For when we say that human efforts cannot of themselves
secure it without the aid of God, we thus insist that God's mercy and grace
are bestowed only upon those who labour and exert themselves, and are
granted (to use the Apostle's expression) to them that "will" and "run,"
according to that which is sung in the person of God in the eighty-eighth
Psalm: "I have laid help upon one that is mighty, and have exalted one
chosen out of my people."(4) For we say, in accordance with our Saviour's
words, that it is given to them that ask, and opened to them that knocks
and found by them that seek;(1) but that the asking, the seeking, and the
knocking on our part are insufficient unless the mercy of God gives what we
ask, and opens that at which we knock, and enables us to find that which we
seek. For He is at hand to bestow all these things, if only the opportunity
is given to Him by our good will. For He desires and looks for our
perfection and salvation far more than we do ourselves. And the blessed
David knew so well that by his own efforts he could not secure the increase
of his work and labour, that he entreated with renewed prayers that he
might obtain the "direction" of his work from the Lord, saying, "Direct
thou the work of our hands over us; yea, the work of our hands do thou
direct;"(2) and again: "Confirm, O God, what thou hast wrought in us."(8)

CHAPTER XV: From whom we can learn the way of perfection.

   AND so, if we wish in very deed and truth to attain to the crown of
virtues, we ought to listen to those teachers and guides who, not dreaming
with pompous declamations, but learning by act and experience, are able to
teach us as well, and direct us likewise, and show us the road by which we
may arrive at it by a most sure pathway; and who also testify that they
have themselves reached it by faith rather than by any merits of their
efforts. And further, the purity of heart that they have acquired has
taught them this above all; viz., to recognize more and more that they are
burdened with sin (for their compunction for their faults increases day by
day in proportion as their purity of soul advances), and to sigh
continually from the bottom of their heart because they see that they
cannot possibly avoid the spots and blemishes of those faults which are
ingrained in them through the countless triflings of the thoughts. And
therefore they declared that they looked for the reward of the future life,
not from the merits of their works, but from the mercy of the Lord, taking
no credit to themselves for their great circumspection of hear in
comparison with others, since they ascribed this not to their own
exertions, but to divine grace; and without flattering themselves on
account of the carelessness of those who are cold, and worse than they
themselves are, they rather aimed at a lasting humility by fixing their
gaze on those whom they knew to be really free from sin and already in the
enjoyment of eternal bliss in the kingdom of heaven, and so by this
consideration they avoided the downfall of pride, and at the same time
always saw both what they were aiming at and what they had to grieve over:
as they knew that they could not attain that purity of heart for which they
yearned while weighed down by the burden of the flesh.

CHAPTER XVI: That we cannot even make the effort to obtain perfection
without the mercy and inspiration of God.

   WE ought therefore, in accordance with their teaching and instruction,
so to press towards it, and to be diligent in fastings, vigils, prayers,
and contrition of heart and body, for fear lest all these things should be
rendered useless by an attack of this malady. For we ought to believe not
merely that we cannot secure this actual perfection by our own efforts and
exertions, but also that we cannot perform those things which we practise
for its sake, viz., our efforts and exertions and desires, without the
assistance of the divine protection, and the grace of His inspiration,
chastisement, and exhortation, which He ordinarily sheds abroad in our
hearts either through the instrumentality of another, or in His own person
coming to visit us.

CHAPTER XVII: Various passages which clearly show that we cannot do
anything which belongs to our salvation without the aid of God.

   LASTLY, the Author of our salvation teaches us what we ought not merely
to think, but also to acknowledge in everything that we do. "I can," He
says, "of mine own self do nothing, but the Father which abideth in me, He
doeth the works."(4) He says, speaking in the human nature which He had
taken,(5) that He could do nothing of Himself; and shall we, who are dust
and ashes, think that we have no need of God's help in what pertains to our
salvation? And so let us learn in everything, as we feel our own weakness,
and at the same time His help, to declare with the saints, "I was
overturned that I might fall, but the Lord supported me. The Lord is my
strength and my praise: and He is become my salvation."(6) And "Unless the
Lord had helped me, my soul had almost dwelt in hell. If I said, My foot is
moved: Thy mercy, O Lord, assisted me. According to the multitude of my
sorrows in my heart, Thy comforts have given Joy to my soul."(1) Seeing
also that our heart is strengthened in the fear of the Lord, and in
patience, let us say: "And the Lord became my protector; and He brought me
forth into a large place."(2) And knowing that knowledge is increased by
progress in work, let us say: "For thou lightest my lamp, O Lord: O my God,
enlighten my darkness, for by Thee I shall be delivered from temptation,
and through my God I shall go over a wall." Then, feeling that we have
ourselves sought for courage and endurance, and are being directed with
greater ease and without labour in the path of the virtues, let us say, "It
is God who girded me with strength, and made my way perfect; who made my
feet like hart's feet, and setteth me up on high: who teacheth my hands to
war." And having also secured discretion, strengthened with which we can
dash down our enemies, let us cry aloud to God: "Thy discipline hath set me
up(8) unto the end, and Thy discipline the same shall teach me. Thou hast
enlarged my steps under me, and my feet are not weakened." And because I am
thus strengthened with Thy knowledge and power, I will boldly take up the
words which follow, and will say, "I will pursue after my enemies and
overtake them: and I will not turn again till they are consumed. I will
break them, and they shall not be able to stand: they shall fall under my
feet."(4) Again, mindful of our own infirmity, and of the fact that while
still burdened with the weak flesh we cannot without His assistance
overcome such bitter foes as our sins are, let us say, "Through Thee we
will scatter our enemies:(5) and through Thy name we will despise them that
rise up against us. For I will not trust in my bow: neither shall my sword
save me. For Thou hast saved us from them that afflict us: and hast put
them to shame that hate us."(6) But further: "Thou hast guided me with
strength unto the battle, and hast subdued under me them that rose up
against me. And Thou hast made mine enemies turn their backs upon me, and
hast destroyed them that hated me."(7) And reflecting that with our own
arms alone we cannot conquer, let us say, "Take hold of arms and shield:
and rise up to help me. Bring out the sword and stop the way against them
that persecute me: say to my soul, I am thy salvation."(8) And Thou hast
made my arms like a brazen bow. And Thou hast given me the protection of
Thy salvation: and Thy right hand hath held me up."(9) "For our fathers got
not the possession of the land through their own sword; neither did their
own arm save them: but Thy right hand and Thine arm and the light of Thy
countenance because Thou wast pleased with them."(10) Lastly, as with
anxious mind we regard all His benefits with thankfulness, let us cry to
Him with the inmost feelings of our heart, for all these things, because we
have fought, and have obtained from Him the light of knowledge, and self-
control and discretion, and because He has furnished us with His own arms,
and strengthened us with a girdle of virtue, and because He has made our
enemies turn their backs upon us, and has given us the power of scattering
them like the dust before the wind: "I will love Thee, O Lord my Strength;
the Lord is my stronghold, my refuge and my deliverer. My God is my helper,
and in Him will I put my trust. My protector and the horn of my salvation,
and my support. Praising I will call upon the name of the Lord; and I shall
be saved from mine enemies."(11)

CHAPTER XVIII: How we are protected by the grace of God not only in our
natural condition, but also by His daily Providence.

   NOT alone giving thanks to Him for that He has created us as reasonable
beings, and endowed us with the power of free will, and blessed us with the
grace of baptism, and granted to us the knowledge and aid of the law, but
for these things as well, which are bestowed upon us by His daily
providence; viz., that He delivers us from the craft of our enemies; that
He works with us so that we can overcome the sins of the flesh, that, even
without our knowing it, He shields us from dangers; that He protects us
from falling into sin; that He helps us and enlightens us, so that we can
understand and recognize the actual help which He gives us, (which some
will have it is what is meant by the law);(12) that, when we are through
His influence secretly struck with compunction for our sins and
negligences, He visits us with His regard and chastens us to our soul's
health; that even against our will we are sometimes drawn by Him to
salvation; lastly that this very free will of ours, which is more readily
inclined to sin, is turned by Him to a better purpose, and by His prompting
and suggestion, bent towards the way of virtue.

CHAPTER XIX: How this faith concerning the grace of God was delivered to us
by the ancient Fathers.

   THIS then is that humility towards God, this is that genuine faith of
the ancient fathers which still remains intact among their successors, And
to this faith, the apostolic virtues, which they so often showed, bear an
undoubted witness, not only among us but also among infidels and
unbelievers: for keeping in simplicity of heart the simple faith of the
fishermen they did not receive it in a worldly spirit through dialectical
syllogisms or the eloquence of a Cicero, but learnt by the experience of a
pure life, and stainless actions, and by correcting their faults, and (to
speak more truly) by visible  proofs, that the character of perfection is
to be found in that faith without which neither piety towards God, nor
purification from sin, nor amendment of life, nor perfection of virtue can
be secured.

CHAPTER XX: Of one who for his blasphemy was given over to a most unclean
spirit.

   I KNEW one of the number of the brethren, whom I heartily wish I had
never known; since afterwards he allowed himself to be saddled with the
responsibilities of my order:(1) who confessed to a most admirable elder
that he was attacked by a terrible sin of the flesh: for he was inflamed
with an intolerable lust, with the unnatural desire of suffering rather
than: of committing a shameful act: then the other like a true spiritual
physician, at once saw through the inward cause and origin of this evil.
And, sighing deeply, said: "Never would the Lord have suffered you to be
given over to so foul a spirit unless you had blasphemed against Him." And
he, when this was discovered, at once fell at his feet on the ground, and,
struck with the utmost astonishment, as if he saw the secrets of his heart
laid bare by God, confessed that he had blasphemed with evil thoughts
against the Son of God. Whence it is clear that one who is possessed by the
spirit of pride, or who has been guilty of blasphemy against God,--as one
who offers a wrong to Him from whom the gift of purity must be looked for--
is deprived of his uprightness and perfection, and does not deserve the
sanctifying grace of chastity.

CHAPTER XXI: The instance of Joash, King of Judah, showing what was the
consequence of his pride.

   SOME such thing we read of in the book of Chronicles. For Joash the
king of Judah at the age of seven was summoned by Jehoiada the priest to
the kingdom and by the witness of Scripture is commended for all his
actions as long as the aforesaid priest lived. But hear what Scripture
relates of him after Jehoiada's death, and how he was puffed up with pride
and given over to a most disgraceful state. "But after the death of
Jehoiada the princes went in and worshipped the king: and he was soothed by
their services and hearkened unto them. And they forsook the temple of the
Lord, the God of their fathers, and served groves and idols, and great
wrath came upon Judah and Jerusalem because of this sin." And after a
little: "When a year was come about, the army of Syria came up against him:
and they came to Judah and Jerusalem, and killed all the princes of the
people, and they sent all the spoils to the king to Damascus. And whereas
there came a very small number of the Syrians, the Lord delivered into
their hands an infinite multitude, because they had forsaken the Lord the
God of their fathers: and on Joash they executed shameful judgments. And
departing they left him in great diseases."(2) You see how the consequence
of pride was that he was given over to shocking and filthy passions. For he
who is puffed up with pride and has permitted himself to be worshipped as
God, is (as the Apostle says) "given over to shameful passions and a
reprobate mind to do those things which are not convenient."(8) And
because, as Scripture says, "every on, who exalts his heart is unclean
before God,"(4) he who is puffed up with swelling pride of heart is given
over to most shameful confusion to be deluded by it, that when thus humbled
he may know that he is unclean through impurity of the flesh and knowledge
of impure desires,--a thing which he had refused to recognize in the pride
of his heart; and also that the shameful infection of the flesh may
disclose the hidden impurity of the heart, which he contracted through the
sin of pride, and that through the patent pollution of his body he may be
proved to be impure, who did not formerly see that he had become unclean
through the pride of his spirit.

CHAPTER XXII: That every proud soul is subject to spiritual wickedness to
be deceived by it.

   AND this clearly shows that every soul of which the swellings of pride
have taken possession, is given over to the Syrians of the soul,(1) i.e.,
to spiritual wickedness, and that it is entangled in the lusts of the
flesh, that the soul being at last humbled by earthly faults, and carnally
polluted, may recognize its uncleanness, though while it stood erect in the
coldness of its heart, it could not understand that through pride of heart
it was rendered unclean in the sight of God; and by this means being
humbled, a man may get rid of his former coldness, and being cast down and
confused with the shame of his fleshly lusts, may thenceforward hasten to
betake himself the more eagerly towards fervour and warmth of spirit.

CHAPTER XXIII: How perfection can only be attained through the virtue of
humility.

   ANY so it is clearly shown that none can attain the end of perfection
and purity, except through true humility, which he displays in the first
instance to the brethren, and shows also to God in his inmost heart,
believing that without His protection and aid extended to him at every
instant, he cannot possibly obtain the perfection which he desires and to
which he hastens so eagerly.

CHAPTER XXIV: Who are attacked by spiritual and who by carnal pride.

   THUS much let it suffice to have spoken, as far as, by God's help, our
slender ability was able, concerning spiritual pride of which we have said
that it attacks advanced Christians. And this kind of pride is not familiar
to or experienced by most men, because the majority do not aim at attaining
perfect purity of heart, so as to arrive at the stage of these conflicts;
nor have they secured any purification from the preceding faults of which
we have here explained both the character and the remedies in separate
books. But it generally attacks those only who have conquered the former
faults and have already almost arrived at the top of the tree in respect of
the virtues. And because our most crafty enemy has not been able to destroy
them through a carnal fall, he endeavours to cast them down and overthrow
them by a spiritual catastrophe, trying by this to rob them of the prizes
of their ancient rewards secured as they were with great labour. But as for
us, who are still entangled in earthly passions, he never deigns to tempt
us in this fashion, but overthrows us by a courser and what I called a
carnal pride. And therefore I think it well, as I promised, to say a few
things about this kind of pride by which we and men of our stamp are
usually affected, and the minds especially of younger men and beginners are
endangered.

CHAPTER XXV: A description of carnal pride, and of the evils which it
produces in the soul of a monk.

   THIS carnal pride therefore, of which we spoke, when it has gained an
entrance into the heart of a monk, which is but lukewarm, and has made a
bad start in renouncing the world, does not suffer him to stoop from his
former state of worldly haughtiness to the true humility of Christ, but
first of all makes him disobedient and rough; then it does not let him be
gentle and kindly; nor allows him to be on a level with and like his
brethren: nor does it permit him to be stripped and deprived of his worldly
goods, as God and our Saviour commands: and, though renunciation of the
world is nothing but the mark of mortification and the cross, and cannot
begin or rise from any other foundations, but these; viz., that a man
should recognize that he is not merely spiritually dead to the deeds of
this world, but also should realize daily that he must die in the body--it
makes him on the contrary hope for a long life, and sets before him many
lengthy infirmities, and covers him with shame and confusion. If when
stripped of everything he has begun to be supported by the property of
others and not his own, it persuades him that it is much better for food
and clothing to be provided for him by his own rather than by another's
means according to that text (which, as was before said,(2) those who are
rendered dense through such dulness and coldness of heart, cannot possibly
understand.) "It is more blessed to give than to receive."(1)

CHAPTER XXVI: That a man whose foundation is bad, sinks daily from bad to
worse.

   THOSE then who are possessed by such distrust of mind, and who through
the devil's own want of faith fall away from that spark of faith, by which
they seemed in the early days of their conversion to be enkindled, begin
more anxiously to watch over the money which before they had begun to give
away, and treasure it up with greater avarice, as men who cannot recover
again what they have once wasted: or--what is still worse--take back what
they had formerly cast away: or else (which is a third and most disgusting
kind of sin), collect what they never before possessed, and thus are
convicted of having gone no further in forsaking the world than merely to
take the name and style of monk. With this beginning therefore, and on this
bad and rotten foundation, it is a matter of course that the whole
superstructure of faults must rise, nor can anything be built on such
villanous foundations, except what will bring the wretched soul to the
ground with a hopeless collapse.

CHAPTER XXVII: A description of the faults which spring from the evil of
pride.

   THE mind then that is hardened by such feelings, and which begins with
this miserable coldness is sure to go daily from bad to worse and to
conclude its life with a more hideous end: and while it takes delight in
its former desires, and is overcome, as the apostle says, by impious
avarice (as he says of it "and covetousness, which is idolatry, or the
worship of idols," and again "the love of money," says he, "is the root of
all evils"(1) ) can never admit into the heart the true and unfeigned
humility of Christ, while the man boasts himself of his high birth, or is
puffed up by his position in the world (which he has forsaken in body but
not in mind) or is proud of his wealth which he retains to his own
destruction; and because of this he is no longer content to endure the yoke
of the monastery, or to be instructed by the teaching of any of the elders,
and not only objects to observe any rule of subjection or obedience, but
will not even listen to teaching about perfection; and such dislike of
spiritual talk grows up in his heart that if such a conversation should
happen to arise, he cannot keep his eyes fixed on one spot, but his gaze
wanders blankly about here and there, and his eyes shift hither and
thither, as the custom is. Instead of wholesome coughs, he spits from a dry
throat: he coughs on purpose without any need, he drums with his fingers,
and twiddles them and scribbles like a man writing: and all his limbs
fidget so that while the spiritual conversation is proceeding, you would
think that he was sitting on thorns, and those very sharp ones, or in the
midst of a mass of worms: and if the conversation turns in all simplicity
on something which is for the good of the hearers, he thinks that it is
brought forward for his especial benefit. And all the time that the
examination of the spiritual life is proceeding, he is taken up with his
own suspicious thoughts, and is not on the watch for something to take home
for his good, but is anxiously seeking the reason why anything is said, or
is quietly turning over in his mind, how he can raise objections to it, so
that he cannot at all take in any of those things which are so admirably
brought forward, or be done any good to by them. And so the result is that
the spiritual conference is not merely of no use to him, but is positively
injurious, and becomes to him an occasion of greater sin. For while he is
conscience stricken and fancies that everything is being aimed at him he
hardens himself more stubbornly in the obstinacy of his heart, and is more
keenly affected by the stings of his wrath: then afterwards his voice is
loud, his talk harsh, his answers bitter and noisy, his gait lordly and
capricious; his tongue too ready, he is forward m conversation and no
friend to silence except when he is nursing in his heart some bitterness
against a brother, and his silence denotes not compunction or humility, but
pride and wrath: so that one can hardly say which is the more objectionable
in him, that unrestrained and boisterous merriment, or this dreadful and
deadly solemnity.(8) For in the former we see inopportune chattering, light
and frivolous laughter, unrestrained and undisciplined mirth. In the latter
a silence that is full of wrath and deadly; and which simply arises from
the desire to prolong as long as possible the rancorous feelings which are
nourished in silence against some brother, and not from the wish to obtain
from it the virtues of humility and patience. And as the man who is a
victim to passion readily makes everybody else miserable and is ashamed to
apologize to the brother whom he has wronged, so when the brother offers to
do so to him, he rejects it with scorn. And not only is he not touched or
softened by the advances of his brother; but is the rather made more angry
because his brother anticipates him in humility. And that wholesome
humiliation and apology, which generally puts an end to the devil's
temptation, becomes to him an occasion of a worse outbreak.

CHAPTER XXVIII: On the pride of a certain brother.

   I HAVE heard while I have been in this district a thing which I shudder
and am ashamed to recall; viz., that one of the juniors--when he was
reproved by his Abbot because he had shown signs of throwing off the
humility, of which he had made trial for a short time at his renunciation
of the world, and of being puffed up with diabolical pride--most
impertinently answered "Did I humiliate myself for a time on purpose to be
always in subjection?" And at this wanton and wicked reply of his the elder
was utterly aghast, and could say nothing, as if he had received this
answer from old Lucifer himself and not from a man; so that he could not
possibly utter a word against such impudence, but only let fall sighs and
groans from his heart; turning over in silence in his mind that which is
said of our Saviour: "Who being in the form of God humbled Himself and
became obedient"--not, as the man said who was seized with a diabolical
spirit of pride, "for a time," but "even to death."(1)

CHAPTER XXIX: The signs by which you can recognize the presence of carnal
pride in a soul.

   AND to draw together briefly what has been said of this kind of pride,
by collecting, as well as we can, some of its signs that we may somehow
convey to those who are thirsting for instruction in perfection, an idea of
its characteristics from the movements of the outward man: I think it well
to unfold them in a few words that we may conveniently recognize the signs
by which we can discern and detect it, that when the roots of this passion
are laid bare and brought to the surface, and seen and traced out with
ocular demonstration, they may be the more easily plucked up and avoided.
For only then will this most pestilent evil be altogether escaped, and if
we do not begin too late in the day, when it has already got the mastery
over us, to be on our guard against its dangerous heat and noxious
influence, but if, recognizing its symptoms (so to speak) beforehand, we
take precautions against it with wise and careful forethought. For, as we
said before, you can tell a man's inward condition from his outward gait.
By these signs, then, that carnal pride, of which [we spoke earlier, is
shown. To begin with, in conversation the man's voice is loud: in his
silence there is bitterness: in his mirth his laughter is noisy and
excessive: when he is serious he is unreasonably gloomy: in his answers
there is rancour: he is too free with his tongue, his words tumbling out at
random without being weighed. He is utterly lacking in patience, and
without charity: impudent in offering insults to others, faint-hearted in
bearing them himself: troublesome in the matter of obedience except where
his own wishes and likings correspond with his duty: unforgiving in
receiving admonition: weak in giving up his own wishes: very stubborn about
yielding to those of others: always trying to compass his own ends, and
never ready to give them up for others: and thus the result is that though
he is incapable of giving sound advice, yet in everything he prefers his
own opinion to that of the elders.

CHAPTER XXX: How when a man has grown cold through pride he wants to be put
to rule other people.

   AND when a man whom pride has mastered has fallen through these stages
of descent, he shudders at the discipline of the ceonobium, and--as if the
companionship of the brethren hindered his perfection, and the sins of
others impeded and interfered with his advance in patience and humility--he
longs to take up is abode in a solitary cell; else is eager to build a
monastery and gather together some others to teach and instruct, as if he
would do good to many more people, and make himself from being a bad
disciple a still worse master. For when through this pride of heart a man
has fallen into this most dangerous and injurious coldness, he can neither
be a real monk nor a man of the world, and what is worse, promises to
himself to gain perfection by means of this wretched state and manner of
life of his.

CHAPTER XXXI: How we can overcome pride and attain perfection.

   WHEREFORE if we wish the summit of our building to be perfect and to
rise well- pleasing to God, we should endeavour to lay its foundations not
in accordance with the desires of our own lust, but according to the rules
of evangelical strictness: which can only be the fear of God and humility,
proceeding from kindness and simplicity of heart. But humility cannot
possibly be acquired without giving up everything: and as long as a man is
a stranger to this, he cannot possibly attain the virtue of obedience, or
the strength of patience, or the serenity of kindness, or the perfection of
love; without which things our hearts cannot possibly be a habitation for
the Holy Spirit: as the Lord says through the prophet: "Upon whom shall My
spirit rest, but on him that is humble and quiet and ears My words," or
according to those copies which express the Hebrew accurately: "To whom
shall I have respect, but to him that is poor and little and of a contrite
spirit and that trembleth at My words?"(1)

CHAPTER XXXII: How pride which is so destructive of all virtues can itself
be destroyed by true humility.

   WHEREFORE the Christian athlete who strives lawfully in the spiritual
combat and desires to be crowned by the Lord, should endeavour by every
means to destroy this most fierce beast, which is destructive of all
virtues, knowing that as long as this remains in his breast he not only
will never be free from all kinds of evils, but even if he seems to have
any good qualities, will lose them by its malign influence. For no
structure (so to speak) of virtue can possibly be raised in our soul unless
first the foundations of true humility are laid in our heart, which being
securely laid may be able to bear the weight of perfection and love upon
them in such a way that, as we have said, we may first show to our brethren
true humility from the very bottom of our heart, in nothing acquiescing in
making them sad or in injuring them: and this we cannot possibly manage
unless true self-denial, which consists in stripping and depriving
ourselves of all our possessions, is implanted in us by the love of Christ.
Next the yoke of obedience and subjection must be taken up in simplicity of
heart without any pretence, so that, except for the commands of the Abbot,
no will of our own is alive in us. But this can only be ensured in the case
of one who considers himself not only dead to this world, but also unwise
and a fool; and performs without any discussion whatever is enjoined him by
his seniors, believing it to be divine and enjoined from heaven.

CHAPTER XXXIII: Remedies against the evil of pride.

   AND when men remain in this condition, there is no doubt that this
quiet and secure state of humility will follow, so that considering
ourselves inferior to every one else we shall bear everything offered to
us, even if it is hurtful, and saddening, and damaging-- with the utmost
patience, as if it came from those who are our superiors. And these things
we shall not only bear with the greatest ease, but we shall consider them
trifling and mere nothings, if we constantly bear in mind the passion of
our Lord and of all His Saints: considering that the injuries by which we
are tried are so much less than theirs, as we are so far behind their
merits and their lives: remembering also that we shall shortly depart out
of this world, and soon by a speedy end to our life here become sharers of
their lot. For considerations such as these are a sure end not only to
pride but to all kinds of sins. Then, next after this we must keep a firm
grasp of this same humility towards God: which we must so secure as not
only to acknowledge that we cannot possibly perform anything connected with
the attainment of perfect virtue without His assistance and grace, but also
truly to believe that this very fact that we can understand this, is His
own gift.


Taken from "The Early Church Fathers and Other Works" originally published
by Wm. B. Eerdmans Pub. Co. in English in Edinburgh, Scotland, beginning in
1867. (LNPF II/XI, Schaff and Wace). The digital version is by The
Electronic Bible Society, P.O. Box 701356, Dallas, TX 75370, 214-407-WORD.

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