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