Part 23

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

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

And concerning those who came to him, he often predicted some days, or even a month, beforehand, and the cause why they were coming. For some came only to see him, and others on account of sickness, and all thought the labour of the journey no trouble, for each went back aware that he had been benefited.

But how tolerant was his temper, and how humble his spirit! for though he was so great, he wished to put every ecclesiastic before himself in honour. For to the bishops and priests he bowed his head; and if a deacon came to him, he discoursed with him on what was profitable, but in prayer he gave place to him. He often asked questions, and deigned to listen to all present, confessing that he was profited if any one said aught that was useful. Moreover, his countenance had great and wonderful grace; and this gift too he had from the Saviour. For if he was present among the multitude of monks, and any one who did not previously know him wished to see him, as soon as he came, he passed by all the rest, and ran to Antony himself, as if attracted by his eyes. He did not differ from the rest in stature or in stoutness, but in the steadiness of his temper, and the purity of his soul; for as his soul was undisturbed, his outward senses were undisturbed likewise, so that the cheerfulness of his soul made his face cheerful. And he was altogether wonderful in faith, and pious, for he never communicated with the Meletian[67] schismatics, knowing their malice and apostasy from the beginning; nor did he converse amicably with Manichaeans or any other heretics, save only to exhort them to be converted to piety. For he held that their friendship and converse was injury and ruin to the soul. So also he detested the heresy of the Arians, and exhorted all not to approach them, nor hold their misbelief.[68]

Being sent for by the bishops and all the brethren, he went down from the mountain, and entering Alexandria, he denounced the Arians, teaching the people that the Son of God was not a created thing, but that He is the Eternal Word and Wisdom of the Essence of the Father. Wherefore he said, "Do not have any communication with these most impious Arians; for there is no communion between light and darkness. For you are pious Christians: but they, when they say that the Son of God, who is from the Father, is a created being, differ nought from the heathen, because they worship the creature instead of the Creator." All the people therefore rejoiced at hearing that heresy anathematized by such a man; and all those in the city ran together to see Antony; and the Greeks,[69] and those who are called their priests, came into the church, wishing to see the man of God. And many heathens wished to touch the old man, believing that it would be of use to them; and in fact as many became Christians in those few days as would have been usually converted in a year. And when some thought that the crowd troubled him, he quietly said that they were not more numerous than the fiends with whom he wrestled on the mountain. But when he left the city, and we were setting him on his journey, when we came to the gate, a certain woman called to him: "Wait, man of God, my daughter is grievously vexed with a devil; wait, I beseech thee, lest I too harm myself with running after thee." The old man hearing it, and being asked by us, waited willingly. But when the woman drew near, the child dashed itself on the ground; and when Antony prayed and called on the name of Christ, it rose up sound, the unclean spirit having gone out; and the mother blessed God, and we all gave thanks: and he himself rejoiced at leaving the city for the mountain, as for his own home.

Now he was very prudent; and what was wonderful, though he had never learnt letters, he was a shrewd and understanding man.

When some philosophers met him in the outer mountain, and thought to mock him, because he had not learnt letters, Antony answered, "Which is first, the sense or the letters? And, which is the cause of the other, the sense of the letters, or the letters of the sense?" And when they said that the sense came first, Antony replied, "If then the sense be sound, the letters are not needed." So they went away wondering, when they saw so much understanding in an unlearned man. For though he had lived, and grown old, in the mountain, his manners were not rustic, but graceful and courteous; and his speech was seasoned with the divine salt.

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

This the old man saw, and after two years there befell the present inroad of the Arians,[70] and the plunder of the churches, when they carried off the holy vessels by violence, and made the heathen carry them: and when too they forced the heathens from the prisons to join them, and in their presence did on the Holy Table what they would.[71] Then we all perceived that the kicks of those mules foreshadowed to Antony what the Arians are now doing, without understanding, as brute beasts. But when Antony saw this sight, he exhorted those about him, saying, "Lose not heart, children; for as the Lord has been angry, so will He again be appeased, and the Church shall soon receive again her own order and shine forth as she is wont; and ye shall see the persecuted restored to their place, and impiety retreating again into its own dens, and the pious faith speaking boldly everywhere with all freedom. Only defile not yourselves with the Arians, for this teaching is not of the Apostle, but of their father the devil; barren and irrational like the deeds of those mules."

All the magistrates asked him to come down from the mountain, that they might see him, because it was impossible for them to go in thither to him. And when he declined, they insisted, and even sent to him prisoners under the charge of soldiers, that at least on their account he might come down. So being forced by necessity, and seeing them lamenting, he came to the outer mountain. And his labour this time too was profitable to many, and his coming for their good. To the magistrates, he was of use, counselling them to prefer justice to all things, and to fear God, and to know that with what judgment they judged they should be judged in turn. But he loved best of all his life in the mountain. Once again, when he was compelled in the same way to leave it, by those who were in want, and by the general of the soldiers, who entreated him earnestly, he came down, and having spoken to them somewhat of the things which conduced to salvation, he was pressed also by those who were in need. But being asked by the general to lengthen his stay, he refused, and persuaded him by a graceful parable, saying, "Fishes, if they lie long on the dry land, die; so monks who stay with you lose their strength. As the fishes then hasten to the sea, so must we to the mountain, lest if we delay we should forget what is within."

Another general, named Balacius, bitterly persecuted us Christians on account of his affection for those abominable Arians. His cruelty was so great that he even beat nuns, and stripped and scourged monks. Antony sent him a letter to this effect:--"I see wrath coming upon thee. Cease, therefore, to persecute the Christians, lest the wrath lay hold upon thee, for it is near at hand." But Balacius, laughing, threw the letter on the ground, and spat on it; and insulted those who brought it, bidding them tell Antony, "Since thou carest for monks, I will soon come after thee likewise." And not five days had passed, when the wrath laid hold on him. For Balacius himself, and Nestorius, the Eparch of Egypt, went out to the first station from Alexandria, which is called Chaereas's. Both of them were riding on horses belonging to Balacius, and the most gentle in all his stud: but before they had got to the place, the horses began playing with each other, as is their wont, and suddenly the more gentle of the two, on which Nestorius was riding, attacked Balacius and pulled him off with his teeth, and so tore his thigh that he was carried back to the city, and died in three days.

But the rest who came to Antony he so instructed that they gave up at once their lawsuits, and blessed those who had retired from this life. And those who had been unjustly used he so protected, that you would think he, and not they, was the sufferer. And he was able to be of use to all; so that many who were serving in the army, and many wealthy men, laid aside the burdens of life and became thenceforth monks; and altogether he was like a physician given by God to Egypt. For who met him grieving, and did not go away rejoicing? Who came mourning over his dead, and did not forthwith lay aside his grief? Who came wrathful, and was not converted to friendship? What poor man came wearied out, and, when he saw and heard him, did not despise wealth and comfort himself in his poverty? What monk, who had grown remiss, was not strengthened by coming to him? What young man coming to the mountain and looking upon Antony, did not forthwith renounce pleasure and love temperance? Who came to him tempted by devils, and did not get rest? Who came troubled by doubts, and did not get peace of mind? For this was the great thing in Antony's asceticism, that (as I have said before), having the gift of discerning spirits, he understood their movements, and knew in what direction each of them turned his endeavours and his attacks. And not only he was not deceived by them himself, but he taught those who were troubled in mind how they might turn aside the plots of devils, teaching them the weakness and the craft of their enemies. How many maidens, too, who had been already betrothed, and only saw Antony from afar, remained unmarried for Christ's sake! Some, too, came from foreign parts to him, and all, having gained some benefit, went back from him as from a father. He was visiting, according to his wont, the monks in the outer mountain, and having learned from Providence concerning his own end, he said to the brethren, "This visit to you is my last, and I wonder if we shall see each other again in this life. It is time for me to set sail, for I am near a hundred and five years old." And when they heard that, they wept, and kissed the old man. And he, as if he were setting out from a foreign city to his own, spoke joyfully, and exhorted them not to grow idle in their labours, or cowardly in their training, but to live as those who died daily. And when the brethren tried to force him to stay with them and make his end there, he would not endure it, on many accounts, as he showed by his silence; and especially on this:--The Egyptians are wont to wrap in linen the corpses of good persons, and especially of the holy martyrs, but not to bury them underground, but to lay them upon benches and keep them in their houses;[72] thinking that by this they honour the departed. Now Antony had often asked the bishops to exhort the people about this, and, in like manner, he himself rebuked the laity and terrified the women; saying that it was a thing neither lawful, nor in any way holy; for that the bodies of the patriarchs and prophets are to this day preserved in sepulchres, and that the very body of our Lord was laid in a sepulchre, and a stone placed over it to hide it, till He rose the third day. And thus saying, he showed that those broke the law who did not bury the corpses of the dead, even if they were saints; for what is greater or more holy than the Lord's body? Many, then, when they heard him, buried their dead thenceforth underground; and blessed the Lord that they had been taught rightly. Being then aware of this, and afraid lest they should do the same by his body, he hurried himself, and bade farewell to the monks in the outer mountain; and coming to the inner mountain, where he was wont to abide, after a few months he grew sick, and calling those who were by--and there were two of them who had remained there within fifteen years, he said to them, "I indeed go the way of the fathers, as it is written, for I perceive that I am called by the Lord. Promise to bury me secretly, so that no one shall know the place, save you alone, for I shall receive my body incorruptible from my Saviour at the resurrection of the dead. And distribute my garments thus. To Athanasius, the bishop, give one of my sheepskins, and the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has grown old by me; and to Serapion, the bishop, give the other sheepskin; and do you have the hair-cloth garment. And for the rest, children, farewell, for Antony is going, and is with you no more."

Saying this, when they had embraced him, he stretched out his feet, and, as if he saw friends coming to him, and grew joyful on their account (for, as he lay, his countenance was bright), he departed and was gathered to his fathers. And they forthwith, as he had commanded them, preparing the body and wrapping it up, hid it under ground: and no one knows to this day where it is hidden, save those two servants only.

In art, S. Antony appears (1), with a hog which has a bell attached to its neck. Sometimes, however, S. Antony holds the bell. He was regarded as the Patron of the Hospitallers; and when ordinances were passed forbidding the poor from allowing their swine to run loose about the streets, as they were often in the way of horses, an exception was made in favour of the pigs of the hospitallers, on consideration of their wearing a bell round their necks. But it is possible that this did not originate the symbol, but that rather, on account of the hog being the symbol of S. Antony, the Antonine Hospitallers were allowed to preserve theirs, and that the hog represents the flesh which S. Antony controlled, and the bell is a common symbol of hermits; (2), he is represented with his peculiar cross. The cross of S. Antony is a crutch, or the Egyptian cross, like the letter T.

S. SABINE, B. OF PIACENZA.

(END OF 4TH CENT.)

[Authorities: Roman Martyrology and the Dialogues of S. Gregory the Great, lib. III., c. 10.]

S. Sabine or Savine, was of Roman origin; he was made Bishop of Piacenza in Italy, and was present at the great Council of Nicaea, and also at that of Aquileija. S. Gregory relates of him, that on one occasion the river Po had overflowed its banks, and was devastating the church lands. Then Sabine said to his deacon, "Go and say to the river, 'The Bishop commands thee to abate thy rage, and return into thy bed.'" But the deacon refused to go, thinking he was sent on a fool's errand. Therefore Sabine said to his notary, "Write on a strip of parchment these words, Sabine, servant of the Lord Jesus Christ to the river Po, greeting:--I command thee, O river, to return into thy bed, and do no more injury to the lands of the church, in the name of Jesus Christ, our common Lord." And when the notary had thus written, the Bishop said, "Go, cast this into the river." And he did so; then the flood abated, and the Po returned within its banks, as aforetime. After having governed his diocese forty-five years, he died on December 11th, and was buried in the church of the Twelve Apostles, but now known as the church of S. Savine, on Jan. 17th.

S. MILDGYTHA, V. (ABOUT A.D. 730.)

[Mildgytha, Mildwitha, Milgith or Milwith, as she is variously called, is commemorated in the English Kalendars.]

Nothing more is known of S. Mildgytha than that she was the youngest sister of S. Mildred and S. Milburgh, and daughter of S. Ermenburga and Merewald, Prince of Mercia, who was the son of the terrible Penda, the great enemy of Christianity in Mid-England. Mildgytha, like her sisters, took the veil, and died a nun at Canterbury.

FOOTNOTES:

[61] Vita, ex duobus veteribus MSS., Bolland. II. p. 83

[62] He is said to have been born at Coma, near Heracleia, in Middle Egypt, A. D. 251.

[63] Seemingly the Greek language and literature.

[64] A.D. 301. Galerius Valerius Maximinus (his real name was Daza) had been a shepherd-lad in Illyria, like his uncle Galerius Valerius Maximianus; and rose, like him, through the various grades of the army to be co-Emperor of Rome, over Syria, Egypt, and Asia Minor; a furious persecutor of the Christians, and a brutal and profligate tyrant. Such were the "kings of the world" from whom those old monks fled.

[65] The lonely alluvial flats at the mouths of the Nile. "Below the cliffs, beside the sea," as one describes them.

[66] Now the monastery of Deir Antonios, over the Wady el Arabah, between the Nile and the Red Sea, where Antony's monks endure to this day.

[67] Meletius, Bishop of Lycopolis, was the author of an obscure schism calling itself the "Church of the Martyrs," which refused to communicate with the rest of the Eastern Church.

[68] Arius (whose most famous and successful opponent was Athanasius, the writer of this biography) maintained that the Son of God was not co-equal and co-eternal with the Father, but created by Him out of nothing, and before the world. His opinions were condemned in the famous Council of Nicaea, A.D. 325.

[69] _I.e._ those were still heathens.

[70] Probably that of A.D. 341, when Gregory of Cappadocia, nominated by the Arian Bishops, who had assembled at the Council of Antioch, expelled Athanasius from the see of Alexandria, and great violence was committed by his followers and by Philagrius the Prefect. Athanasius meanwhile fled to Rome.