Now there are a number of these monasteries which have observed this rule, amounting to 7000 men. But the first and great monastery is that where Pachomius himself dwelt, which itself also is the parent of the other monasteries; it has 1300 members. [8] Among them there was also the noble Aphthonius, who became my intimate friend, and is now second in the monastery. Him they send to Alexandria, since nothing can make him stumble, in order to sell their produce and buy necessaries. [9] But there are also other monasteries two hundred or three hundred strong. One of these, with 300 monks, I found when I entered the city of Panopolis. [In the monastery I found fifteen tailors, seven smiths, four carpenters, twelve camel-drivers, and fifteen fullers.] But they work at every kind of craft and with their surplus output they provide for the needs both of the women's convents and the prisons. [10] [They keep pigs too, and when I blamed the practice, they said: "In our tradition we have received this, that they are to be kept because of the chaff, and the refuse of the vegetables and other scraps that one throws away, lest they be wasted. And the pigs are to be killed and their meat sold, but the tit-bits are to be devoted to the sick and aged, because the neighbourhood is poor and populous; for the tribe of the Blemmyes live near.] [11] But those who are to serve that day rise early and get to their work, some to the kitchen, others to the tables. They spend their time then until the meal-hour in arranging and preparing the tables, putting loaves on each, and charlock, preserved olives, cheese of cows' milk, [the tit-bits of the meat], and chopped herbs. Some come in at the sixth hour and eat, others at the seventh, others at the eighth, others at the ninth, others at the eleventh, others in the late evening, others every other day, so that each letter knows its own hour. [12] So also is it with their work. One works on the land as a labourer, another in the garden, another at the forge, another in the bakery, another in the carpenter's" shop, another in the fuller's shop, another weaving the big baskets, another in the tannery, another in the shoemaker's shop, another in the scriptorium, another weaving the young reeds. And they learn all the scriptures by heart.
> CHAPTER XXXIII. -- THE TABENNESIOT NUNS
[1] THEY also had a monastery of women with some 400 members; it had the same constitution and the same manner of life, except for the sheep-skin coat. And the women are on the far side of the river, the men opposite them. So when a virgin dies, the (other) virgins, having prepared her body for burial, act as bearers and lay it on the river bank. But the brethren, having crossed in a ferry boat, with palm-leaves and olive-branches, take the body across, singing psalms the while, and bury it in their own cemetery. But apart from the priest and the deacon no man goes across to the women's monastery, and they only on Sunday.
[2] In this women's monastery the following thing happened. A tailor, living in the world, crossed the river in ignorance and sought work. A young sister came out----the place was deserted ----and met him involuntarily and gave him the answer: "We have our own tailors." [3] Another sister saw the meeting; and when some time had elapsed and a contention arose, actuated by diabolic motives inspired by great wickedness and an outburst of temper, she denounced the other before the sisterhood. A few others also joined her from malice. So that sister, distressed at having endured a calumny of a kind that had never even entered her thoughts, and being unable to bear it, flung herself into the river secretly and lost her life. [4] Likewise the calumniator, recognizing that her calumny was wicked, and that she had committed this abomination, went and hung herself, she too being unable to bear (the shame of) the affair. So when the priest came the rest of the sisters told him the affair. And he ordered first that the sacrifice should not be offered for either of them; and as for those who had not kept the peace, since they had been accomplices of the calumniator and had believed the scandal, he separated them (from the rest) for seven years, depriving them of Communion.
> CHAPTER XXXIV. -- THE NUN WHO FEIGNED MADNESS
[1] IN this monastery there was another virgin who feigned madness and possession by a demon. And they detested her so much that they would not even eat with her, she preferring this. She would wander about in the kitchen and do every kind of menial work, and she was, as they say, "the monastery sponge," fulfilling in fact the words of Scripture: "If any one seem to be wise among you in this world, let him become foolish that he may be wise." She fastened some rags on her head----all the rest had the tonsure and wore cowls----and served in this guise. [2] None of the 400 sisters ever saw her chewing during the years of her life. She never sat at table, nor partook of a piece of bread, but wiping up the crumbs from the tables and washing the kitchen pots she was content with what she got in this way. Never did she insult any one nor grumble nor talk either little or much, although she was cuffed and insulted and cursed and execrated.
[3] Now an angel appeared to the holy Piteroum, an anchorite of high reputation who dwelt in Porphyrites, and said to him: "Why are you proud of yourself for being religious and dwelling in a place like this? Do you want to see a woman who is more religious than you? Go to the monastery of the Tabennesiot women and there you will find a woman wearing a crown on her head. She is better than you. [4] For though she spars with so great a crowd, she has never let her heart go away from God. But you sit here and wander in imagination through the different cities." And he who had never gone out went off to that monastery and besought the masters to let him go to the monastery of the women. They were emboldened to let him in, since he was famous and advanced in years. [5] And having gone in he demanded to see them all. But she did not appear. At last he said to them: "Bring me all, for there is one lacking." They said to him: "We have one within in the kitchen, a sale." For thus they style the mentally afflicted. He said to them: "Bring her also to me. Let me see her." They went off to call her. She did not answer, perhaps perceiving what was the matter, or even having had a revelation. They drag her forcibly and say to her: "The holy Piteroum wants to see you"; for he was famous. [6] When she came, he perceived the rag on her forehead and fell at her feet and said to her: "Bless me." She also fell at his feet in like manner, saying: "Do you bless me, Master." They were all amazed and said to him: "Father, do not let her insult you, she is sale." Said Piteroum to them all: "You are sale. For she is mother both of me and you"----for thus they call the spiritual women----"and I pray to be found worthy of her in the day of judgment." [7] Having heard these words they fell at his feet, all confessing in different ways: one that she had poured the rinsings of the plate over her; another that she had beaten her with her fist; another that she had applied a mustard-plaster to her nose. And, in a word, all confessed outrages of one kind or another. So after praying for them he went away. And after a few days, unable to bear her glory and the honour bestowed by the sisters, and burdened by their apologies, she left the monastery. And where she went, or where she disappeared to, or how she died, no one knows.
> CHAPTER XXXV. -- JOHN OF LYCOPOLIS
[1] THERE was a certain John in Lycopolis, who in his childhood learned the trade of carpentering----he had a brother a dyer. Later, when he was about twenty-five years old, he renounced the world. And having lived in various monasteries for five years he retired by himself to the mountain of Lyco, where he made himself three cells on the actual summit and went in and immured himself. One chamber was for his bodily needs, and another where he worked and ate, and the third where he prayed. [2] Having completed thirty years thus immured, and receiving the necessaries of life through a window from one who ministered to him, he was counted worthy of the gift of predictions. Among other instances he sent various predictions to the blessed emperor Theodosius, one concerning Maximus the tyrant, that he would conquer him and return from the Gauls; similarly also he gave him good news about the tyrant Eugenius. His reputation as a virtuous man was widespread.
[3] When we were in the desert of Nitria----by we I mean myself and the blessed Evagrius and his companions----we were anxious to find out accurately, in what his virtue consisted. Then said the blessed Evagrius: "Gladly would I be learning what kind of man he is, from some one who knows how to test character and speech. For if I am unable to see him myself, but can hear accurately from another's description the details of his manner of life, then I will not go so far as the mountain." I heard, and saying nothing to anyone kept silence for one day; but the next day, having closed my cell and committed myself and it to God, I hastened away to the Thebaid. [4] And I arrived after eighteen days, having gone partly on foot, and partly by boat on the river. But it was the time of the flood, when many are ill; which was also my experience. Well, I went and found the vestibule of his cell closed; for the brethren built on later a very large vestibule holding about 100 men, and shutting it with a key they opened it on Saturday and Sunday. So, having learned the reason why it was closed, I waited quietly till the Saturday. And having come at the second hour for an interview I found him sitting by the window, through which he seemed to be exhorting his visitors. [5] So, after greeting me, he said through an interpreter : "Whence are you? and why have you come? For I conjecture that you belong to the convent of Evagrius." I said: "I am a stranger who started out from Galatia." And I confessed that I belonged to Evagrius' society. Meanwhile, as we talked, the ruler of the district came up, Alypius by name. He turned to him and left off talking with me. So I retired a little and gave way to them, standing some way off. As their conversation lasted a long time, I became disgusted, and in my disgust I murmured against the good old man, since he despised me and honoured him. [6] And annoyed in mind at this, I formed the plan of going away, disdaining him. But having called his interpreter, named Theodore, he said to him: "Go, tell that brother, 'Do not be petty-minded. I am just going to dismiss the ruler and talk to you.' " So I resolved to wait patiently, attending to him as a spiritual man. And when the ruler had gone, he called me and said to me: "Why are you vexed with me? What did you find worthy of blame, that you thought those things that neither applied to me nor befitted you? Or do you not know that it is written: 'They that are whole need not a physician, but they that are sick'? I find you when I want you, and you me. And if I do not console you, there are other brethren to console you and other fathers. But this man is delivered up to the devil through his worldly affairs and, having respite for a brief hour, like a servant run away from his master, he has come to receive benefit. It would have been absurd that we should leave him and attend to you, when you have uninterrupted leisure to attend to your salvation." So I exhorted him to pray for me and was fully convinced that he was a spiritual man.
[8] Then, having affectionately slapped my left cheek gently with his right hand, he said to me: "Many afflictions are in store for you, and many times have you been tempted to leave the desert. And you have been timid and have deferred (a decision). But the demon by providing you with pious and specious excuses unsettles you. For he suggested to you both a longing to see your father, and the instruction of your brother and sister with a view to the monastic life. [9] Behold then, I give you good news: both are saved, for both have renounced the world. And as regards your father, at this very moment he still has other years to live. So continue in the desert and do not wish on their account to go home to your native land, for it is written: 'No man having put his hand to the plough and turning back is fit for the kingdom of heaven.'" So, benefited by these words and sufficiently corrected, I thanked God, having learned that the pretexts which were driving me were finished with.
[10] Then again he said to me graciously: "Do you want to become a bishop?" I said to him: "I am one." He said to me: Where?" I said: "(I am bishop) over the kitchens, the shops, the tables and the pots. I am their bishop, and if there is any sharp wine I excommunicate it, but I drink the good. Similarly, I am bishop over the pot too; and if salt or any seasoning is lacking, I throw it in and season (the pot) and then I eat it. This is my bishopric, for gluttony ordained me." [11] He said to me with a smile: "Stop your jokes. You have to be ordained bishop, and toil much and be afflicted. If then you would escape afflictions, depart not from the desert. For in the desert no man can ordain you bishop."
So I left him and went into the desert to my accustomed place, and told these things to the blessed fathers, who after two months went by boat and met him. But I forgot his words, for after three years I fell ill with an illness of the spleen and stomach. [12] I was sent by the brethren from the monastery to Alexandria, under treatment for dropsy. The doctors advised me to betake myself from Alexandria to Palestine for the sake of the air. For (Palestine) has light airs, such as befit our constitution. From Palestine I came to Bithynia, and there----I know not how, whether from human zeal or from the good pleasure of Him Who is more powerful, God would know----I was counted worthy of the laying-on of hands, so much above my deserts, having become embroiled in the disturbance connected with the blessed John. [13] And for eleven months hidden in a gloomy cell I remembered that blessed man, that he had foretold these things which I endured. And indeed he told me this, designing by his tale to lead me to endure the desert. "Forty years have I spent in the cell. I have not seen the face of woman nor the appearance of money. I have seen no one chewing, nor has any one seen me eating or drinking."
[14] When Poemenia the servant of God came to interview him, he did not meet her, but he had a number of secret matters told to her. And he enjoined her, when she went down from the Thebaid not to turn aside to Alexandria, "for you will fall into temptation." But she, thinking differently, or forgetting, turned aside to Alexandria to see the city. But on the way she moored her boats near Niciopolis to rest. [15] So her servants went on shore and after some disorderly behaviour had a fight with the people of the place, who were desperate characters. They cut off the finger of one eunuch and murdered another, and even threw Dionysius the most holy bishop into the river, not recognizing him, and after wounding all the other servants, loaded the lady herself with insults and threats.
> CHAPTER XXXVI. -- POSIDONIUS
[1] THE stories about Posidonius the Theban are many and hard to relate, how meek he was and how exceedingly ascetic, and what great innocence of soul he possessed----I do not know if I have met any such. For I lived with him at Bethlehem for one year when he dwelt beyond Poemenion, and I beheld his many virtues. [2] Among other things he himself told me this one day: "Living for a year in the Porphyrites district, the whole year I met no man, heard no talk, touched no bread. I merely subsisted on a few dates and any wild herbs I found. This happened one day. My food failing, I went out from the cave to go back to the world. [3] And having walked all the day with difficulty did I get two miles from the cave. Well, looking round I saw a horseman with the appearance of a soldier, having on his head a helmet in the shape of a tiara. And expecting him to be a soldier, I ran to the cave and found (on the way) a basket of grapes and newly-picked figs. I picked it up and went to the cave overjoyed, and had that food as my comfort for two months. [4] And this was the miracle he did in Bethlehem. A certain woman approaching her confinement had an unclean spirit and, when she was actually about to be delivered, she had difficult labour, the spirit tormenting her. The husband, therefore, since his wife was suffering from the demon, came and besought that holy man to come. So he stood up----we were present, having come at the same time to pray----and prayed, and after kneeling down for the second time he drove out the spirit. [5] So he stood up and said to us: "Pray, for at this moment the unclean spirit is going out, and there should be a sign, that we may be convinced." So the demon on his way out of her threw down the whole wall of the precincts, foundations and all. Now the woman had been six years without speech. After the demon had gone out she gave birth to a child and spoke.
[6] I knew also the following prophecy spoken by this man. A certain Jerome, a priest, distinguished Latin writer and cultivated scholar as he was, showed qualities of temper so disastrous that they threw into the shade his splendid achievements. Well, Posidonius, who had lived with him many days, said in my ear: "The noble Paula, who looks after him, will die first and be freed from his bad temper, so I think. [7] And because of this man no holy man will dwell in these parts, but his envy will include even his own brother." The thing happened as he said. For, in fact, he drove out the blessed Oxyperentius the Italian, and another man Peter, an Egyptian, and Simeon, admirable men, whom I noticed with approval at the time. This Posidonius told me that he had not tried bread for forty years, nor indeed had he borne malice for half a day.
> CHAPTER XXXVII. -- SARAPION THE SINDONITE
[1] THERE was another monk, Sarapion, and he was surnamed the Sindonite, for apart from a sindon (loincloth) he never wore clothes. He practised great detachment from possessions and, being well educated, knew all the Scriptures by heart. And through his great detachment and his meditation on the Scriptures he was unable to remain calmly in the cell; not because he was distracted by material things, yet none the less he travelled up and down the world and perfected this type of asceticism. For he was born with this nature; for there are differences of natures, not of substances.
[2] The fathers used to relate how, taking an ascetic as his accomplice, he sold himself to some Greek actors in a certain city for twenty pieces of money. And having sealed up the money he kept it on his person. Then he stayed a long while and served as slave to the actors who had bought him, until he both made them Christians and induced them to leave the stage. All the time he took nothing except bread and water, nor did his lips rest from expounding the Scriptures. [3] After a long period, first the man was stricken with compunction, then the actress, then the whole house. But it was said that as long as they did not know him he washed the feet of them both. So both were baptized and gave up the stage, and applying themselves to an honourable and pious life they revered the man exceedingly and said to him: "Here, brother, let us free you, since you yourself have freed us from disgraceful slavery." He said to them: "Since God has wrought this, and your soul is saved, let me tell you the mystery of my conduct. [4] I pitied your soul, being myself an ascetic, a free man, an Egyptian by race, and I sold myself for this reason, that I might save you. But since God has done this, and your soul has been saved through my humiliation, take back your money, that I may go away and help others." But they used many entreaties and assured him: "We will have you as father and master, only stay with us." But they could not persuade him. Then they said to him: "Give the money to the poor, for it has been our first payment for salvation; but come and see us, if only once a year."
[5] In the course of his incessant wanderings he came to Greece, and during a three days' stay at Athens no one thought fit to give him bread; he carried no money, no purse, no sheep-skin coat----nothing of the kind. So when the fourth day came he was very hungry; for hunger unwillingly endured is terrible, if it has an ally in the fact that no one believes you. And standing on an eminence in the city, where the authorities were collecting, he began to lament violently, clapping his hands, and to call out: "Men of Athens, help!" [6] And all ran to him, wearers of the philosopher's cloak and labourer's smock alike, and said to him: "What is the matter? Whence are you? What ails you?" Said he to them: "By race I am an Egyptian. After I left my real country I fell in with three usurers. And two left me having got their debt in full, with no accusation to make. But one does not leave me." So, inquiring minutely about the usurers in order that they might satisfy them, they asked him: "Where are they? and who are they? Who is it that troubles you? Show him to us that we may help you." [7] Then he said to them: "From my youth covetousness and gluttony and fornication have troubled me. From two am I freed, covetousness and fornication; they trouble me no longer. But I cannot get free from gluttony. For this is the fourth day that I have not eaten, and my stomach continues troubling me and seeking its habitual debt without which I cannot live." Then certain of the philosophers, supposing it to be acting, gave him money. And having received it he put it down in a baker's shop, and having got one loaf he resumed his journey and left the city at once and never more returned to it.
[8] Then the philosophers recognized that he was truly virtuous, and giving the baker the price of the bread they took the piece of money. But having come to the country where the Spartans live, he heard that one of the first men of the city was a Manichaean with all his house, though virtuous in other respects. To him again he sold himself as he had done at first; and within two years he induced him to forsake his heresy, and brought him to the Church and his wife also. Then they loved him no longer as a servant, but treated him as a true brother or father and glorified God.
[9] One day he flung himself into a vessel as if he had a right to sail to Rome. The sailors, thinking that either he had paid his fare or had the price of it in cash, received him without trouble, each thinking that another had taken his luggage. But when they had sailed away and got 500 stades from Alexandria the passengers began to eat about sundown, the sailors having eaten first. [10] They saw that he did not eat the first day, and expected it was because of the voyage; similarly on the second, third and fourth days. On the fifth day they saw him sitting quietly while all ate and said to him: "Why are you not eating, man?" He said to them: "Because I have nothing." So they inquired one of another: "Who received his luggage or his fare? " [11] And when they found that no one had they began to attack him and say: "How did you come on without paying? From what source can you give us the fare? Or from what source can you get fed?" He said to them: "I have nothing. Pick me up and throw me where you found me." But they would not willingly have relinquished their voyage, even for 100 gold pieces, but they wanted to get to their destination. So he remained in the ship and found that they fed him until (they got to) Rome.
[12] So having come to Rome he inquired who was a great ascetic in the city, man or woman. Among others he met also a certain Domninus, a disciple of Origen, whose bed healed sick persons after his death. So he met him and was benefited, for he was a man of refined manners and liberal education, and learning from him what other ascetics there were, male or female, he was told of a certain virgin who cultivated solitude and would meet no one. [13] And having learned where she lived he went off and said to the old woman who attended her: "Tell the virgin, 'I must meet you, for God has sent me.' " So after waiting two or three days at last he met her, and said to her: "Why do you remain stationary?" She said to him: "I do not remain stationary, I am on a journey." He said to her: "Where are you journeying?" Said she to him: "To God." He said to her: "Are you alive or dead?" She said to him: "I trust in God that I am dead, for no one who lives to the flesh shall make that journey." He said to her: "Then do what I do, that you may convince me that you are dead." She said to him: "Order me possible things, and I will do them." [14] He answered her: "All things are possible to a dead person except impiety." Then he said to her: "Go out and appear in public." She answered him: "This is the twenty-fifth year that has passed without my appearing in public. And why should I appear?" "If you are dead to the world," said he to her, "and the world to you, it is all the same to you whether you appear or appear not. So appear in public." She did so, and after she had appeared outside and gone as far as a church, he said to her in the church: "Now then, if you wish to convince me that you are dead and no longer live pleasing men, do what I do and I shall know that you are dead. [15] Follow my example and take off all your clothes, put them on your shoulders, go through the middle of the city with me leading the way in this fashion." She said to him: "I should scandalize many by the unseemliness of the thing and they would be able to say, 'She is mad and possessed by a demon.' "He answered her: "What does it concern you if they say, 'She is mad and possessed by a demon?' For you are dead to them." Then she said to him: "If you want anything else I will do it; for I do not profess to have reached this stage." [16] Then he said to her: "See then, no longer be proud of yourself as more pious than all others and dead to the world, for I am more dead than you and show by my act that I am dead to the world; for impassively and without shame I do this thing." Then having left her in humility and broken her pride, he departed.
There are many other marvellous acts which he did in the direction of impassivity. He died in the sixtieth year of his age, and was buried at Rome itself.
> CHAPTER XXXVIII. -- EVAGRIUS PONTICUS
[1] IT is not right to be silent about the story of the illustrious deacon Evagrius, a man who lived in apostolic wise; rather one ought to put it into writing for the edification of readers and the glory of the goodness of our Saviour. I have thought it worth while to relate (the story) from the beginning, how he came to his ideal, and how having pursued asceticism worthily he died in the desert at the age of fifty-four, according to the words of Scripture: "In a little time he fulfilled many years."
[2] He came of a Pontic family and belonged to the city of Ibora, the son of a country-bishop. He was ordained reader by the holy Basil, the bishop of the church of Caesarea. After the death of the holy Basil, Gregory Nazianzea the bishop, that very wise and most impassive and highly cultured man, ordained him deacon. Then at the great synod of Constantinople he left him to the blessed Nectarius the bishop, since he was skilled in argument against all heresies. And he flourished in the great city, speaking with youthful zeal against every heresy. [3] Now it happened that this man, who was held in high honour by the whole city, was congealed by an image of the desire of a woman, as he himself told us at a later time, when his soul was freed from such thoughts. The woman loved him in return; now she belonged to the highest rank. So Evagrius, fearing God and respecting his own conscience, and putting before his eyes the greatness of the shame and the malicious joy of the heresies, prayed to God in supplication that he would put some obstacle in the way. Now the woman was pressing and madly excited, while he, though desiring to withdraw, had no power to, being constrained by the chains of this servitude. [4] After no long time, when his prayer had succeeded but he had not experienced the benefit of it, there appeared to him an angel vision in the shape of soldiers of the governor, and they seized him and took him apparently to the tribunal and threw him into the so-called custody, the men who had come to him, as it seemed, without giving a reason having first fastened his neck and hands with iron collars and chains. But he knew in his conscience that for the sake of the above fault he was suffering these things, and imagined that her husband had intervened. [5] So now he was extremely anxious. Another trial was going on and others were being put to torture for some accusation, so he continued to be much perturbed. And the angel who brought the vision transformed himself to represent the coming of a genuine friend and said to him, tied up as he was among forty prisoners chained together: "Why are you retained here, my lord deacon?" He said to him: "In truth I do not know, but I have a suspicion that so-and-so the ex-governor has laid a charge against me, impelled by an absurd jealousy. And I fear that the judge corrupted by bribes may inflict punishment on me." [6] He said to him: "If you will listen to your friend, it is not expedient for you to stay in this city." Evagrius said to him: "If God will release me from this misfortune and you see me in Constantinople (any more), know that I shall suffer this punishment justly." He said to him: "Let me bring the gospel, and swear to me by it that you will leave this city and care for your soul, and I will free you from this durance." [7] So he brought the gospel and he swore to him by the gospel: "Except for one day, to give me time to put my clothes on board, I certainly will not remain." So when the oath had been produced, he came back out of the trance which had come on him in the night; and he arose and argued with himself: "Even if the oath was in a trance, nevertheless I did take it."
So having put all his belongings into the ship he went to Jerusalem. [8] And there he was received by the blessed Melania, the Roman lady. But once again the devil hardened his heart, as he did Pharaoh's, and since he was young and vigorous doubts beset him, and he hesitated, saying nothing to any one, and changing his clothes and his habit of speech back to his old ways, vain-glory stupefying him. But God Who wards off destruction from us all involved him in a bout of fever, and after that in a long illness lasting six months, drying up his flesh, the source of his trouble. [9] But when the physicians were at a loss and could find no way of cure, the blessed Melania said to him: "Son, your long illness does not please me. Tell me therefore what are your thoughts. For this illness of yours is not without God." Then he confessed to her the whole matter. But she said to him: "Give me your word before the Lord that you will keep to the mark of the monastic life; and, sinner though I am, I will pray that you may be granted a furlough of life." And he consented. So within a few days he got well, and he arose and received a change of clothes at the hands of the lady herself and went away and exiled himself in the mount of Nitria which is in Egypt.
[10] Having lived there two years, in the third year he entered the desert. So he lived fourteen years in the place they call Cellia, and he used to eat a pound of bread, and in three months a pint of oil, though he was a man who had come from a luxurious and refined and voluptuous life. And he made 100 prayers; and he wrote during the year only the value of what he ate----for he wrote the Oxyrhyncus characters excellently. So in the course of fifteen years having purified his mind to the utmost he was counted worthy of the gift of knowledge and wisdom and the discerning of spirits. So he composed three holy books for monks, called Antirrhetica, in which he taught the arts to be used against demons. [14] The demon of fornication troubled him grievously, as indeed he told us himself. And all night long he stood naked in the well, though it was winter, so that his flesh was frozen. On another occasion again the spirit of blasphemy troubled him. And for forty days he did not enter under a roof, as he told us himself, so that his body threw out ticks, like the bodies of irrational animals. Three demons attacked him by day disguised as clerics, questioning him on the faith. And one said he was an Arian, the other an Eunomian, the third an Apollinarian; and he vanquished these in his wisdom by means of a few words. [12] Again one day, the key of the church having been lost, having made the sign over the front of the lock and pushed with his hand, he opened it, after first calling upon Christ. So many castigations did he receive from demons and so great trial of them did he have that there is no counting the occasions. And to one of his disciples he told the things that would happen to him after eighteen years, having prophesied all to him in a vision (of the future). And he said: "From the time that I took to the desert, I have not touched lettuce nor any other green vegetable, nor any fruit, nor grapes, nor meat, nor a bath. [13] And later, in the sixteenth year of his life without cooked food, his flesh felt a need, owing to the weakness of the stomach, to partake of (something that had been) on the fire; he did not however take bread even now, but having fed on herbs or gruel or pulse for two years, in this regime he died, after communicating in church at Epiphany. Shortly before his death he told us: "For three years I have not been troubled by fleshly desire----after so long a life and toil and labour and ceaseless prayer." He was told of the death of his father, and said to his informant: "Cease blaspheming, for my father is immortal."
> CHAPTER XXXIX. -- PIOR
[1] PIOR, a young Egyptian, having renounced the world, left his father's house and in an excess of zeal gave his word to God that he would never see any of his relations again. Fifty years after his sister, now an old woman, having heard that he was alive seemed likely to go out of her mind if she could not see him. But being unable to go to the great desert she besought the bishop of the district to write to the fathers in the desert that they should send him and she might see him. So, considerable pressure having been brought to bear on him, he decided to take one other with him and go. [2] And he announced at his sister's house: "Your brother Pior has come." So standing outside and perceiving from the creaking of the door that the old woman came out to meet him, he closed his eyes and called to her: "Ho! What's-your-name, I am Pior your brother, I am he. Look at me as much as you want." So she was convinced and glorified God, and having failed to persuade him to enter her house she returned to her dwelling. But he having offered a prayer on the doorstep exiled himself again in the desert.
[3] Now this miracle is told of him, that he dug in the place where he lived and found some very bitter water. And until he died he remained there, accepting the bitterness of the water in order to show his endurance. Many of the monks therefore after his death tried to rival him by dwelling in his cell, but they could not complete a year; for the place is terrible and inconsolably dreary.
[4] Moses the Libyan, a man of exceedingly gentle disposition and very affectionate, was counted worthy of the gift of healings. He told me this: "When I was a young man in the monastery we dug a very big pit, twenty feet broad. In this eighty of us excavated for three days and we got a cubit further than the vein where we generally found water and expected it (in this case), but found none. So very much disheartened we were contemplating the abandonment of the work. Then Pior appeared from the great desert at the sixth hour, (the time) of burning heat, an old man clad in a sheep-skin coat, and greeted us and said after the greeting: "Why have you lost heart, men of little faith? For I have seen you since yesterday losing heart." [5] And having descended by a ladder to the cavity of the well he said a prayer with them, and having taken the pick he said after striking the third blow: "O God of the holy patriarchs, make not the toil of thy servants useless, but send them the water they need." And immediately water sprang out so that they were wetted all over. So he prayed once more and went off. They tried to make him eat, but he would not suffer them, saying: "That for which I was sent is accomplished; for this I was not sent."
> CHAPTER XL. -- EPHRAIM
[1] You must have heard particulars about Ephraim, the deacon of the Church of Edessa; for he is one of those who deserve to be remembered by religious people. Having completed in worthy fashion the journey of the Spirit, without being diverted from the straight road, he was counted worthy of the grace of natural knowledge, and afterwards of the knowledge of God1 and final blessedness. So having always practised the quiet life and for many years continuing to edify his visitors, at last he left his cell, for the following reason. [2] A great famine having come upon the city of Edessa, he felt compassion for the whole country-side, which was being destroyed, and approached those who were rich in material things and said to them: "Why do you not take pity on human nature being destroyed, instead of letting your wealth be corrupted for the condemnation of your souls?" They considered the matter and said to him: "We have no one whom we can trust to minister to the famine-stricken. For all are dishonest in business affairs." He said to them: "What do you think of me?" Now he had a great reputation among all, not falsely but truly. [3] They said to him: "We know you to be a man of God." "Then trust me," he said. "See, on your behalf I appoint myself hospitaller." And he raised money, and partitioned the porticoes and made up some 300 beds, and so nursed the sufferers from the famine, burying those who succumbed and treating those who had hope of life, and in a word out of the funds entrusted to him provided day by day hospitality and assistance for all the inhabitants. [4] So when the year was completed and prosperity returned and all went home, no longer having anything to do he entered his own cell and died after a month, God having provided him this opportunity of gaining a crown just before his end. Also he left some writings, most of which deserve to be studied.
> CHAPTER XLI. -- HOLY WOMEN
[1] IT is necessary also to mention in my book certain women with manly qualities, to whom God apportioned labours equal to those of men, lest any should pretend that women are too feeble to practise virtue perfectly. Now I have seen many such and met many distinguished virgins and widows. [ [2] Among them was the Roman lady Paula, mother of Toxotius, a woman of great distinction in the spiritual life. She was hindered by a certain Jerome from Dalmatia. For though she was able to surpass all, having great abilities, he hindered her by his jealousy, having induced her to serve his own plan. She has a daughter now living an ascetic life at Bethlehem, Eustochium by name. I have never met her, but she is said to be very chaste, and she has a convent of fifty virgins;
[3] I knew also Veneria, wife of Vallovicus the count, who gallantly distributed her camel's burden and was delivered from the wounds which property inflicts. And Theodora the wife of the tribune, who reached such a depth of poverty that she became a recipient of alms and finally died in the monastery of Hesychas near the sea. I knew a lady named Hosia, in every respect most venerable; and her sister Adolia, who lived in a way not indeed comparable to her, but proportionately to her own capacity. [4] I knew also Basianilla, the wife of Candidianus the general, who practised virtue ardently and scrupulously, and is still even now strenuously engaged in contests. Also the virgin Photina, venerable in the extreme, daughter of Theoctistus the priest near Laodicea. Again, I met in Antioch a most venerable lady who conversed familiarly with God, the deaconess Sabaniana, aunt of John the bishop of Constantinople. And I saw also in Rome the beautiful Asella, the virgin who had grown old in the monastery, a very gentle lady and a supporter of convents. [5] There also I saw men and women recently instructed. I saw also Avita, who was worthy of God, with her husband Apronianus and their daughter Eunomia, all so desirous to please God that they were publicly converted to the life of virtue and continence, and were held worthy on this account to fall asleep in Christ freed from all sin, having become possessed of knowledge and leaving their life in good remembrance.]
> CHAPTER XLII. -- JULIAN
[I HAVE heard of a certain Julian in the region of Edessa, a very ascetic man, who wore away his flesh till it was so thin that he carried about only skin and bone. At the very end of his life he was counted worthy of the honour of the gift of healing.]
> CHAPTER XLIII. -- ADOLIUS
[1] AGAIN, I knew a man at Jerusalem named Adolius, a Tarsian by origin, who having come to Jerusalem followed eagerly the untrodden road, not that on which most of us walked, but carving out for himself a strange mode of life. For his asceticism was superhuman, so that the very demons, trembling at his austerity, dared not approach him. For by reason of his excessive abstinence and his vigils he was even suspected of being a phantom. [2] For in Lent he would eat at intervals of five days, and the whole rest of the time every other day. But his greatest act of asceticism was this. From evening until the time when the brotherhood began to assemble again in their houses of prayer he would continue on his feet singing psalms and praying, on the Mount of Olives, the hill of the Ascension whence Jesus was taken up; and whether it snowed or rained or there was a white frost he remained undaunted. [3] So having completed his accustomed time he knocked at the cells of all the monks with his little waking-up knocker, collecting them into the houses of prayer and in each house singing one or two psalms with them antiphonally and praying with them. Then he went away to his own cell before daybreak, so that of a truth the brethren often had to undress him and wring out his clothes as if after the wash, and put other clothes on him. So then, after resting until the hour of psalmody, he applied himself (to worship) until evening. And so this was the virtue of Adolius the Tarsian, who reached perfection in Jerusalem and died there.
> CHAPTER XLIV. -- INNOCENT
[1] You have heard from many the story of the blessed Innocent, the priest of the Mount of Olives, but none the less you will hear it also from us who lived with him for three years. He was simple to an excess. Having been one of the dignitaries of the palace in the early days of the Emperor Constantius, he renounced the world, leaving his marriage, by which he had also a son, Paul by name, of the imperial bodyguard. [2] When the latter had sinned with the daughter of a priest, Innocent cursed his own son, beseeching God and saying: "Lord, give him such a spirit that his flesh may no longer find opportunity to sin"----thinking it better that he should struggle with a demon than with incontinence, which actually happened. At this present moment he is still on the Mount of Olives, wearing irons and chastised by the spirit. [3] How compassionate indeed this Innocent was, so that often he himself stole from the brethren and gave to the needy----I shall seem to be talking nonsense if I tell the truth. And he was exceedingly innocent and simple, and was counted worthy of the gift (of power) over demons. As an example of this: Once a young man was brought to him before our eyes taken by a spirit and by paralysis, so that I, having seen him, wished publicly to repel the mother of the man who had been brought, since I despaired of his cure. [4] Well, it happened in the meantime that the old man having come up saw her standing and weeping and lamenting over the unspeakable misfortune of her son. So the good old man wept and, moved with compassion, took the young man and entered into his oratory, which he had built with his own hands, and in which relics of John the Baptist were laid. And having prayed over him from the third hour to the ninth, he restored the young man to his mother cured that same day, having driven out both his paralysis and the demon. His paralysis was such that the boy, when he spat, spat on his own back, so twisted was he.
[5] An old woman having lost a sheep came to him in tears. And having followed her he said: "Show me the place where you lost it." She led him to the neighbourhood of the tomb of Lazarus. He stood and prayed. But the young men who had stolen it anticipated him by killing it. So while he prayed, no one confessing and the meat lying hidden in the vineyard, a crow came from somewhere and hovered over the place, took a morsel and flew off again. And the blessed one having marked the place found the slain animal, and so the young men who had killed it fell at his feet and confessed and paid, when asked, the proper price of the sheep.
> CHAPTER XLV. -- PHILOROMUS
[[1] We met in Galatia the priest Philoromus, a most ascetic and enduring man, and stayed with him a long time. His mother was a maidservant, his father a free man. But he showed such nobility in the Christlike mode of life that even those whose family record was unsurpassable revered his life and virtue. He renounced the world in the days of Julian the infamous Emperor, and spoke to him with boldness. Julian ordered him to be shaved and buffeted by boys. He endured the ordeal patiently and expressed his thanks to Julian, as he told us himself. [2] In his early days war against fornication and gluttony was his lot. He drove out these passions by shutting himself up and wearing irons, and by abstinence from corn-bread and all things cooked by fire. After persevering in this course for eighteen years he sang the hymn of triumph to Christ. Attacked in divers ways by the spirits of wickedness, he abode in one monastery for forty years. He told us this: "For thirty-two years I touched no fruit." Once when timidity attacked him, in order to get rid of it, he shut himself up in a tomb for six years. [3] The blessed Basil, the bishop, took great care of him, rejoicing in his austerity and firmness. Even now he has not renounced the pen and the writing sheet, though perhaps in his eightieth year. He said: "From the time that I was initiated and born again until to-day, I have never eaten another's bread for nothing, but always as the result of my own labours." (Speaking) as in the presence of God, he convinced us that he had given to the cripples 250 pieces of money earned by the work of his hands, and had never wronged anyone. [4] He went on foot even as far as Rome itself to pray at the martyr-chapel of the blessed Peter. He went also as far as Alexandria, to pray at the martyr-chapel of Mark. Then he came also a second time to Jerusalem, having gone on his own feet and defrayed his own expenses. And he said this: "I do not remember that I was ever absent in mind from my God."]
> CHAPTER XLVI. -- MELANIA THE ELDER
[1] THE thrice-blessed Melania was a Spaniard by origin, but afterwards belonged to Rome. She was the daughter of Marcellinus the ex-consul, and wife of a certain man of high official rank, whom I do not quite remember. Having become a widow at twenty-two, she was favoured with the divine love, and having said nothing to any one----for she would have been prevented----in the time when Valens had the rule in the empire, she had a guardian nominated for her son and took all her movable property and put it on a ship; then she sailed with all speed to Alexandria, accompanied by various highborn women and children. [2] After that, having sold her goods and turned them into money, she went to the mountain of Nitria, where she met the following fathers and their companions----Pambo, Arsisius, Sarapion the Great, Paphnutius of Scete, Isidore the Confessor, bishop of Hermopolis, and Dioscorus. And she sojourned with them for half a year, travelling about in the desert and visiting all the saints. [3] But after this, when the prefect of Alexandria banished Isidore, Pisimius, Adelphius, Paphnutius and Pambo, with them also Ammonius Parotes, and twelve bishops and priests, to Palestine in the neighbourhood of Diocaesarea, she followed them and ministered to them from her own money. But, servants being forbidden them, so they told me----for I met the holy Pisimius and Isidore and Paphnutius and Ammonius----wearing the dress of a young slave she brought them in the evenings what they required. But the consular of Palestine got to know of it, and wishing to fill his pocket thought he would terrify her. [4] And having arrested her he threw her into prison, ignorant that she was a lady. But she told him: "For my part, I am So-and-So's daughter and So-and-So's wife, but I am Christ's slave. And do not despise the cheapness of my clothing. For I am able to exalt myself if I like, and you cannot terrify me in this way or take any of my goods. So then I have told you this, lest through ignorance you should incur judicial accusations. For one must in dealing with insensate folk be as audacious as a hawk." Then the judge, recognizing the situation, both made an apology and honoured her, and gave orders that she should succour the saints without hindrance.
[5] After they were recalled she founded a monastery in Jerusalem, and spent twenty-seven years there in charge of a convent of fifty virgins. With her lived also the most noble Rufinus, from Italy, of the city of Aquileia, a man similar to her in character and very stedfast, who was afterwards judged worthy of the priesthood. A more learned man or a kinder than he was not to be found among men. [6] So these two during twenty-seven years receiving at their own charges those who visited Jerusalem in pursuance of a vow, bishops and monks and virgins, edified all who visited them, and they reconciled the schism of Paulinus, some 400 monks in all, and winning over every heretic that denied the Holy Spirit they brought him to the Church; and they honoured the clergy of the district with gifts and food, and so continued to the end, without offending anyone.
> CHAPTER XLVII. -- CHRONIUS AND PAPHNUTIUS
[1] A CERTAIN man named Chronius of the village called Phoenice, having measured off from his own village, which was near the desert, 15000 steps counted with his right foot, dug a well there after prayer; and having found very good water forty-two feet away, built himself there a little dwelling. And from the day that he installed himself in this abode he prayed to God that he might never return to an inhabited place. [2] But when a few years had passed he was counted worthy of the priesthood, a brotherhood of some 200 men having collected round him. Now this meritorious feature of his asceticism is told, that having officiated at the altar for sixty years, exercising his priesthood, he did not leave the desert and never ate bread that came from any source but the work of his own hands.
With him dwelt one Jacob, who belonged to the neighbourhood, surnamed the Lame, an exceedingly learned man. Now both were known to the blessed Antony. [3] Now one day they were joined by Paphnutius, surnamed Kephalas, who had the gift of knowledge of the divine Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments, interpreting it all without having read the Scriptures, but he was so modest that his prophetic virtue was concealed. It is told of him that during eighty years he never wore two tunics together. The blessed Evagrius and Albanius and I when we met these men sought to know the causes of brothers falling away or backsliding or stumbling in the proper life. [4] For it happened in those days that Chaeremon the ascetic died in a sitting posture and was found dead on his chair holding his work in his hands. And it happened also that another brother while digging a well was swallowed up by the well; and another on his way down from Scete died from lack of water. Then again there was the story of Stephen, who fell into disgraceful profligacy, and of Eucarpius, and the story of Heron of Alexandria, and the story of Valens of Palestine, and the story of Ptolemy the Egyptian who lived in Scete. [5] We asked therefore what was the reason why the men who lived there in the desert were some of them deceived in their mind and others shattered by lust. So this was the answer that the most enlightened Paphnutius gave us, namely: "All things that happen are divided into two, what God approves and what He allows. As many things then as happen in accordance with virtue for the glory of God, these happen with His approval. But as many, on the contrary, as are fraught with loss and danger and are due to external crises or fallings away, these happen with God's permission. [6] But the permission is given in a rational manner. For it is impossible that a man who thinks rightly and lives rightly should succumb to snares of shame or the deceit of demons. Consequently, all who seem to pursue virtue with a corrupt purpose, the vice of men-pleasing or perverse imagination, these also make false steps, for God deserts them for their benefit, in order that through their desertion they may perceive the difference that results from their change and correct either their intention or their conduct. [7] For at one time the will sins, when it acts with evil intent, at another time also the conduct, when it acts corruptly or in the wrong fashion. And this indeed often happens, that the vicious man with a corrupt purpose gives alms to girls in pursuance of an evil end, though he does an apparently good action by giving help to her who is an orphan, a solitary, or an ascetic. But it happens also that men give alms with a right purpose to the sick or aged or those who have lost money, but sparingly and with a grumble, and the intention is right but the action is unworthy of the intention; for it is necessary that the merciful man show mercy gladly and generously." [8] They said also this: "There are good qualities in many souls, in some a natural goodness of thought, in others aptitude for asceticism.
But whenever some action is not done or natural goodness not manifested for the sake of the actual good, and those who possess good qualities do not ascribe them to God the Giver of all good things, but to their own free will, natural goodness and capacity, then such men are deserted and are involved either in disgraceful conduct or experience and in shame, and by means of the consequent humiliation and shame gradually lose the pride felt in their pretended virtue. [9] For when the man who is puffed up with pride, pluming himself on the natural charm of his discourse, does not ascribe to God the natural charm or even the supply of knowledge, but to his own application or natural gifts, God withdraws from him the angel of foreknowledge. When this angel is removed, then overpowered by the adversary the man who plumes himself on his natural charm falls into licentiousness through his presumption, in order that, the witness of his self-control being withdrawn, the words spoken by such men may be no longer worthy of credit; while religious men shun the teaching which proceeds from such a mouth as if it were a fountain containing leeches, so that the Scripture is fulfilled: 'But to the sinner said God, Why dost thou recount my judgments and takest my covenant in thy mouth?' [10] For truly the souls of the vicious are like diverse fountains. The gluttonous and wine-lovers are like muddy fountains; the covetous and greedy like fountains with frogs; others, envious and haughty but with an aptitude for knowledge, are like fountains which cherish serpents, in which reason is always floating but no one likes to draw from them because of the bitterness of their character. This is why David demanded three things in his prayer, 'goodness and discipline and knowledge.' For without goodness knowledge is not good. [11] And if such a man corrects himself, putting away the cause of his abandonment, that is, pride, and recovers humility and recognizes his own measure, not exalting himself against anyone, and thanking God, then knowledge attested by proof returns to him. For spiritual words which do not have as an escort a sober and disciplined life are like ears of com blasted by the wind; they have the outward appearance (of corn) but have been robbed of their nutritive value. [12] Therefore every fall, whether by the tongue, or by perception, or by action, or by the whole body, tends to produce abandonment in proportion to the presumption, though God spares those who are abandoned. For if, in the midst of their vice, the Lord will bear witness to their natural grace by providing them with eloquence, arrogance turns them into demons, puffed up with uncleanness."