勞蘇之史 第 1 章

I too, lowly as I am, have resolved—out of reverence for the charge laid on me by your magnanimity, most eager learner—to set down for you in narrative form, from the beginning, this book: I who am now in my thirty-third year living within the brotherhood and, as it were, the solitary life, my twentieth year in the episcopate, and my fifty-sixth year of life altogether; and you long for the accounts of the fathers, both men and women, those whom I have seen and those of whom I have heard, with whom I lived in the desert of Egypt and Libya, in the Thebaid and Syene (under which dwell those called the Tabennesiotes), then in Mesopotamia, Palestine and Syria, and in the western regions, in Rome and Campania and the parts around it.

Thus, having a holy and soul-profiting remembrancer as an unfailing remedy against forgetfulness, you may put away through it every drowsiness that springs from irrational desire, every doubt and stinginess in your needs, every sluggishness and faintheartedness in your character, every quickness to anger, turmoil, grief, and irrational fear, and the distraction of the world; and so, with unceasing longing, you may advance in your purpose of godliness, becoming a guide for yourself, for those with you, for those under you, and for the most pious emperors.

By such achievements all who love Christ press on to be united with God.

And you also await daily the soul's departure, according to what is written:

"It is good to depart and to be with Christ";

and: "Prepare your works for your going forth, and make yourself ready for the field."

For he who always remembers death—since it will surely come of necessity and not delay—will not greatly stumble.

Do not slight the counsel of these instructions, nor despise their plainness and the unpolished quality of the diction.

For this is not the work of divine teaching—to speak with cleverness—but to persuade the understanding by thoughts of truth, according to what is said:

"Open your mouth for the word of God."

"Do not miss the discourse of the elders, for they too learned from the fathers."

I therefore, most learning-loving man of God, following this saying in part, have met with many of the saints—not out of idle curiosity, but having completed journeys of thirty days and twice as many, traversing on foot, as before God, the whole land of the Romans; and I gladly endured the hardship of the road for the sake of meeting a God-loving man, that I might gain what I did not have.

For if Paul—far better than I in conduct, knowledge, conscience, and faith—set out on the journey from Tarsus to Judaea to meet Peter, James, and John, and recounts it in the manner of a boast, holding up his own labours as a goad to those who live with sluggishness and idleness, saying:

"I went up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas," not content with the report of his virtue but yearning also to meet him face to face—

how much more ought I, the debtor of ten thousand talents, to have done this, not as conferring a benefit on those men but as benefiting myself!

Those who wrote the lives of the fathers—of Abraham and those after him, of Moses, Elijah, and John—did not narrate them in order to glorify those men, but in order to benefit those who read.

Knowing this, then, most faithful servant of Christ, Lausus, and admonishing yourself, bear also with our prattling, for the safekeeping of your pious mind, which by nature is tossed about by various vices, seen and unseen, and is able to find rest only through continual prayer and minding its own affairs.

For many of the brethren who pride themselves on labours and almsgiving, who boast of celibacy or virginity, and who put their trust in the study of the divine oracles and in zealous pursuits, have nonetheless failed to attain passionlessness; for under the guise of piety they fell sick, without discernment, with certain meddlesome pursuits, from which are born busy-bodying or evil-doing that drive out good-doing—the mother of minding one's own affairs.

Be a man, then, I beg you, and do not fatten your wealth;

which indeed you have done, sufficiently diminishing it by distributing to those in need, on account of the service of virtue that springs from this.

Nor should you, by some impulse and irrational presumption, in a man-pleasing way fetter your resolve with an oath—as some have suffered, who out of love of strife and vainglory enslaved their free will to the necessity of an oath not to eat or drink, and then again, falling pitiably back, in their love of life, listlessness, and pleasure laboured under the pangs of perjury.

If, therefore, you partake with reason and abstain with reason, you will never sin.

For divine is the reason that governs the movements within us, banishing what is harmful and admitting what is profitable.

For better is the drinking of wine with reason than the drinking of water with conceit.

And look for me at the holy men who drank wine with reason, and at the profane men who drank water without reason; and no longer blame or praise the material thing, but call blessed or wretched the disposition of those who use the material well or badly.

Joseph once drank wine among the Egyptians, yet he was not harmed in his mind, for he kept his disposition secure.

Those around the apostle Peter also partook of the use of wine, so that even their Teacher, the Saviour, was reproached for partaking, the Jews saying:

"Why do your disciples not fast as do those of John?" And again, heaping reproaches upon the disciples, they said:

"Your teacher eats and drinks with tax collectors and sinners."

They would not have found fault over bread and water, but clearly over relishes and wine;

to those who again irrationally marvel at water-drinking and blame wine-drinking, the Saviour said:

"John came in the way of righteousness, neither eating nor drinking"—that is, meat and wine, for apart from other things he could not have lived—"and they say:

The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say:

Behold, a glutton and a wine-drinker, a friend of tax collectors and sinners—because he eats and drinks."

What, then, shall we do? Let us follow neither those who blame nor those who praise, but let us either fast with John, with reason, even if they speak against us;

or let us drink wine in wisdom with Jesus, if the body requires it, even if they speak against us:

"Behold, gluttons and wine-drinkers!"

For neither eating nor abstaining is anything in truth, but faith working through love, extended to deeds.

For whenever faith accompanies every action, he who eats and drinks is uncondemned because of his faith;

for whatever is not of faith is sin.

But since everyone who errs will say that he partakes in faith, or does some other thing with irrational conviction in a corrupted conscience, the Saviour made a clear distinction, saying:

"By their fruits you shall know them."

Goodness, faith, gentleness, and self-control are acknowledged as such.

For the fruit of the Spirit is this and that.

And that the one who is zealous to have such fruits will not, irrationally or aimlessly or unseasonably, eat meat or drink wine, nor will he dwell with any evil conscience, the same Paul said again: "Everyone who strives exercises self-control in all things"—abstaining, when the flesh is healthy, from the things that fatten it; but when it is ailing, or in pain, or sharing in griefs and trials, he will use foods or drinks as medicines for the healing of what afflicts it, while abstaining from the things harmful to the soul—anger, envy, vainglory, listlessness, slander, and irrational suspicion—giving thanks in the Lord.

Having dealt with this sufficiently, then, I once more bring another exhortation to your love of learning.

Flee, as far as you are able, the company of men who have nothing to offer and who adorn their skin unbecomingly—even if they be orthodox, not to mention heretics—men who do harm by their hypocrisy, even if they seem to drag along a great length of time with gray hairs and wrinkles.

For even if you suffer no harm from them owing to your nobility of manners, you will at least be made a little slack, or be puffed up in scorning them—which is harm to you.

But more than a bright window, pursue the holy company of men and women of devout life, so that through them, as through a finely written book, you may be able to see clearly your own heart as well, and by comparison may test your own slackness or carelessness.

For the bloom of color in faces flourishing beside gray hair, the orderliness of dress, the unpretentiousness of speech, the reverence of words, and the gracefulness of their thoughts will strengthen you, even if you happen to be in listlessness.

For "a man's apparel, the gait of his foot, and the laughter of his teeth declare the things concerning him," as Wisdom says.

Beginning, then, my accounts, I will not leave unknown to my narrative those in the cities, or those in the villages or in the desert places.

For it is not the place where these men dwelt that is sought, but the manner of their resolve.

Concerning Isidore. When I first set foot in the city of the Alexandrians, in the second consulship of Theodosius the Great, the emperor who now dwells among the angels because of his faith in Christ, I met in the city a wondrous man, adorned in every way both in character and in knowledge—Isidore the presbyter, who was the guest-master of the church of the Alexandrians;

who was said to have completed the first contests of his youth in the desert;

and I saw his cell on the mountain of Nitria.

I came upon him as an elder of seventy years, who, living fifteen more years, ended his life in peace.

This man, up to his very death, wore no linen except a small head-cloth, never touched a bath, and never partook of meat;

yet he had a body so sustained by grace that all who were ignorant of his way of life supposed that he lived in luxury.

If I should wish to recount in detail the virtues of his soul, time would fail me;

for he was so kind to all and so peaceable that even his unbelieving enemies revered his very shadow, on account of his exceeding goodness.

He had such knowledge of the Holy Scriptures and of the divine doctrines that even at the very banquets of the brethren his mind would be carried away into ecstasy and fall silent;

and when entreated to describe the ecstasy, he would say: "I journeyed away in my mind, caught up by a certain contemplation."

I myself knew this man to weep often at table, and when I inquired the cause of his tears, I heard him say: "I am ashamed to partake of irrational food, being a rational creature and one who ought to dwell in a paradise of delight, because of the authority given to us by Christ."

But he committed them [the virgins] to Christ, saying:

"He who created you will provide for your life, as he has for me."

Together with his sisters there was a community of seventy virgins.

When I, being young, came to him and begged to be grounded in the solitary life—my age being still in its vigor and needing not words but bodily labors—he, like a good colt-tamer, led me out of the city to the so-called desert places, five miles away;

for he knew that the elder [Dorotheus] lived in great austerity;

and he charged me to return again to himself for the sake of spiritual teaching.

But not being able to complete three years, having fallen into illness, I was thus removed from him before the three were up;

for his manner of life was squalid and exceedingly dry.

Once when I said to him:

"What are you doing, father, in such old age, killing your poor body in these scorching heats?" he answered, saying:

"It kills me, so I kill it."

For he would eat six ounces of bread and a bundle of small vegetables, and drink only as much water [as needed].

With God as my witness, I never knew him to stretch out his feet, nor to sleep on a mat, nor on a bed;

but throughout the whole night, sitting, he would plait a rope from palm fronds, for the sake of his sustenance.

Supposing that he did this on my account, I made inquiry and ascertained also from his other disciples, who lived apart, that from his youth he had kept this way of life, never sleeping on purpose, except when, while working or eating, he would close his eye, overcome by sleep, so that often even the morsel would fall from his mouth at the time of eating, from excess of drowsiness.

Once when I pressed him to lie back a little upon the mat, he said, grieved:

"If you can persuade the angels to sleep, you will also persuade the zealous man."

Once, about the ninth hour, he sent me to his well to fill the bucket for the partaking of the ninth hour.

It happened that, when I went, I saw an asp down in the well, and I no longer drew the water, but went and said to him:

"For I saw an asp in the well."

But he, smiling gravely, fixed his gaze upon me for a long while, and shaking his head, said:

"If it should seem good to the devil to turn himself into a serpent or a tortoise in every well and to fall into the springs of waters, will you remain never drinking?" And going out and drawing for himself, he, fasting, was the first to drink it down, saying:

"Where the cross comes, the malice of any creature has no power."

Concerning Potamiaena. This blessed Isidore, having met Antony of blessed memory, related to me a matter worthy of record, which he had heard from him: that a certain maiden so called Potamiaena, in the time of Maximian the persecutor, was a most beautiful girl, a servant of a certain master;

whom her master, having importuned with many promises, was unable to seduce;

and at last, enraged, he handed her over to the prefect of Alexandria at that time, giving her up as a Christian who blasphemed the times and the emperors over the persecutions, suggesting to him, along with money: "If she agrees to my purpose, keep her unpunished;

but if she persists in her austerity"—he begged that she be punished, so that she might not, living on, mock his profligacy.

Being brought before the tribunal, she was assaulted in her resolve by various instruments of torture.

Among which instruments the judge also ordered a great cauldron to be filled with pitch and set over a fire.

When the pitch was boiling and fiercely burning, he proposed to her:

"Either go and submit to the wishes of your master;

or, that you may know it, I order you to be plunged into the cauldron."

[She said:] "A judge who orders one to submit to profligacy!"

Then that man, in a rage, ordered her to be stripped and thrown into the cauldron.

But she cried out, saying:

"By the head of your emperor, whom you fear—if it has been decreed for you to punish me thus, command that I be lowered little by little into the cauldron, that you may know how great a patience Christ, whom you do not know, bestows on me."

And being lowered little by little over the space of an hour, she expired, the pitch having reached her neck.

[Concerning Didymus the Blind.] With him too I had four meetings, going to him at intervals over a period of ten years.

For he died at the age of eighty-five.

This man was deprived of his eyes, as he himself related to me, having lost his sight at the age of four, having neither learned letters nor attended teachers;

for he had the natural teacher in vigor—his own conscience;

who was adorned with such grace of knowledge that what is written was fulfilled in him after the manner of [literal] history:

For he expounded the Old and New Testament word by word;

and he so attended to the doctrines, setting forth the teaching concerning them subtly and firmly, that he surpassed all the ancients in knowledge.

Once when he was urging me to make a prayer in his cell, and I was unwilling, he said, recounting: "Into this cell the blessed Antony entered three times when he visited me;

and when he was entreated by me to make a prayer, immediately he bent his knee in the cell, and did not allow me to repeat my request a second time, instructing me by deed in obedience."

So that, if you walk in the footsteps of his conduct—seeing that you are a monk and a sojourner for the sake of virtue—lay aside contentiousness;

rise up, then, and eat, and send word, they say, to bishop Athanasius, that he too may know.

"And I noted down," he said, "the hour, the month, the week, and the day, and it was found to be so."

In the tenth year [the recluse] fell asleep, having composed herself as one who departs in the usual way and, not receiving an answer, reports it to us.

So, breaking through the door and entering, we found her fallen asleep.

Concerning her the thrice-blessed Melania, of whom I shall speak later, also said: "By sight I never saw her, but standing by the opening I entreated her to tell me the reason why she had shut herself into the tomb."

And she, through the opening, spoke to me, saying: "A certain man was harmed in his mind on my account;

and lest I should seem to grieve him or to slander him, I chose to bring myself alive into the tomb, rather than to cause to stumble a soul made in the image of God."

And when I said, she says,

"How then do you endure, meeting with no one, but wrestling with listlessness?" she said: "From dawn until the ninth hour I pray hour by hour, while spinning flax;

and during the remaining hours I go round in my mind among the holy patriarchs and prophets and apostles and martyrs;

and having eaten my morsel, I wait through the other hours, persevering and awaiting the end with good hope."

Concerning the rich virgin. In my narrative I will not pass over even those who have lived in contemptible fashion, for the praise of those who have done well and for the security of those who read.

[There was a woman] haughty in her resolve, exceedingly rich in money, who [gave] not even an obol to a stranger, nor to a virgin, nor to the church, nor to a poor person.

Despite many admonitions from the fathers, she would not rid herself of her material possessions.

She had relatives also, among whom she made her own sister's daughter her heir; to her, night and day, she would promise her possessions, having fallen away from the heavenly longing.

For this too is a form of the devil's deception: under the guise of love for kindred, he prepares one to labour in the pangs of covetousness;

for that he cares nothing for kindred is acknowledged, since he teaches men to murder brother and mother and father.

But even if he seems to instill care for kindred, he does not do this out of goodwill toward them, but in order to exercise the soul in injustice, knowing the sentence that "the unjust shall not inherit the kingdom of God."

But whenever someone tramples down his whole soul out of care for kindred, he falls under the law, reckoning his own soul for a vain thing.

And the holy psalmist sings concerning those who in fear take thought for the soul: "Who shall ascend into the mountain of the Lord?"—as much as to say, few;

"or who shall stand in his holy place? He that is innocent in his hands and pure in heart, who has not taken his soul in vain."

For all those take it in vain who neglect the virtues, supposing that it is dissolved together with the flesh.

Wishing to bleed this virgin, as the saying goes, for the relief of her covetousness, the most holy Macarius—the presbyter and superior of the almshouse for the maimed—devised the following stratagem;

for in his youth he had been a lapidary, one whom they call a gem-cutter.

[He said:] "Some precious stones, emeralds and jacinths, have come into my hands, and whether they are come-by honestly or stolen I cannot say.

They are not subject to valuation, being beyond price;

but the one who has them is selling them for five hundred coins.

If it seems good to you to acquire them, from a single stone you can recover the five hundred coins, and use the rest for the adornment of your niece."

Hooked, the virgin was lured and fell at his feet, saying: "By your feet, let no one else take them."

He therefore urged her: "Come to my house and see them."

But she would not consent; instead she threw down to him the five hundred coins, saying:

"For I do not wish to see the man who is selling them."

And he, having taken the five hundred coins, gave them for the needs of the almshouse.

But as time galloped on, since the man seemed to have a great reputation in Alexandria, being God-loving and merciful (for he flourished up to a hundred years, and we too were his contemporaries), she was reluctant to remind him.

At last, finding him in the church, she said to him:

"Ever since you took the gold from me, I have deposited it for the price of the stones;

and if you wish to come and see them in the lodging—for there they lie—come and look; if they please you, well; if not, take back your gold."

Now the almshouse had women in the upper rooms and men in the lower rooms.

And leading her in, he brought her into the gateway and said to her:

"Which do you wish to see first—the jacinths or the emeralds?" She said to him [the emeralds, or jacinths].

He led her up to the upper rooms and showed her women who were mutilated and had disfigured faces;

And he led her down again below and, showing her the men, said to her:

"Behold the emeralds; if they please you, well; if not, take back your gold."

Thus put to shame, she went out, and departing, fell ill from much grief, because she had not done the thing according to God;

afterwards she gave thanks to the presbyter, when the girl whom she had cared for died childless after marriage.

Having met and spent three years with the monasteries around Alexandria, with men most excellent and most zealous, about two thousand in number, I withdrew from there and came to the mountain of Nitria.

Between this mountain and Alexandria lies the lake called Maria, seventy miles long;

having sailed across it in a day and a half, I came to the mountain, on its southern side;

alongside which mountain lies the utter desert, stretching as far as Ethiopia and the Mazici and Mauritania.

On this mountain dwell about five thousand men, having various ways of life, each as he is able and as he wishes;

so that it is possible to live even alone, and as a second, and as one of many.

On this mountain there are seven bakeries serving [both these monks and those of the inner desert at Kellia, who number six hundred].

Having sojourned, then, on this mountain for a year, and having greatly profited from the blessed fathers Arsisius the Great, Putubastus, Asion, Cronius, and Serapion, and having been spurred on by them with many accounts of the fathers, I entered into the innermost desert.

On this mountain of Nitria there is a great church, in which stand three palm trees, each with a whip hanging from it.

And one is for the correction of monks who transgress, another for robbers, should any be caught, and another for chance passers-by;

so that all who transgress and are convicted as deserving stripes embrace the palm tree, and receiving the appointed blows on their back, are so released.

Adjoining the church is a guest-house, in which they receive the stranger who has come, the whole time until he departs of his own free will, even if he stays two or three years;

but having allowed him one week in leisure, the remaining days they keep him busy with work, either in the garden or in the bakery or in the kitchen.

But if he be a man of note, they give him a book, not permitting him to converse with anyone until that hour.

On this mountain there live also physicians and confectioners.

They use wine too, and wine is sold there.

And all these men work linen with their hands, so that they are all without want.

And indeed, about the ninth hour, one may stand and hear how from each dwelling the psalmody goes forth, so that one supposes oneself to be uplifted in paradise.

They occupy the church only on the Sabbath and on the Lord's Day.

There are eight presbyters who lead this church, in which, so long as the first presbyter lives, no other offers the sacrifice, nor preaches, nor judges, but they sit quietly beside him only.

This Arsisius and many other elders with him, whom we ourselves have seen, were contemporaries of the blessed Antony.

Among whom they related that they knew also Amoun the Nitriote, whose soul Antony saw being taken up and guided by angels.

This man said that he also knew Pachomius the Tabennesiote, a prophetic man, archimandrite over three thousand men, concerning whom I shall narrate later.

Concerning Amoun the Nitriote. He said that Amoun had lived in the following manner:

that, being an orphan, a young man of about twenty-two years, he was by force yoked to a wife by his own uncle;

and not being able to resist the constraint of his uncle, he consented both to be crowned and to sit in the bridal chamber, and to undergo all that pertains to a wedding.

But after all had gone out, having put the couple to bed in the bridal chamber and on the couch, Amoun rose, shut the door, and sitting down, called to his blessed bride and said to her:

"This marriage which we have married has nothing superfluous about it.

We shall do well, then, if from now on each of us sleeps apart, that we may also please God by keeping our virginity untouched."

And drawing from his bosom a little book containing words from the apostle and the Saviour, he read to the girl, who was inexperienced in the Scriptures, and for the most part adding everything from his own understanding, he set forth the discourse concerning virginity and chastity;

so that she, being convinced by the grace of God, said:

"And what do you bid for the rest?" "I bid," he said, "that from now on each of us remain apart."

But she would not consent, saying:

"Let us remain in the same house, but in different beds."

Having lived, then, eighteen years with her in the same house, throughout each day he busied himself in the garden and the balsam grove;

which balsam is planted like a vine, requiring much labour in being cultivated and pruned.

In the evening, then, coming into the house, he would make prayers and eat with her;

and again, having made the nighttime prayer, he would go out.

These things being thus accomplished, and both of them having advanced to passionlessness, the prayers of Amoun became effective, and at last she said to him:

"I have something to say to you, my lord;

so that, if you listen to me, I may be assured that you love me according to God.

For it is unfitting that you should hide such a virtue of yours, while dwelling with me in chastity."

And he, having given thanks to God, said to her:

"Then keep you this house;

and I will make for myself another house."

And going out, he took up his abode in the inner part of the mountain of Nitria;

for there were as yet no monasteries then;

and he made for himself two domed cells.

And having lived another twenty-two years in the desert, he died—or rather fell asleep—seeing his blessed wife twice a year.

Concerning him the blessed bishop Athanasius related a wonder in his Life of Antony: that as Amoun was crossing the Lycus river together with Theodore his disciple, and was reluctant to undress lest he should see him naked, he was found on the far side, carried over without a ferry-boat by an angel.

This Amoun, then, lived thus and was thus perfected, so that the blessed Antony saw his soul being led up by angels.

This river I myself crossed with fear, by ferry-boat;

for it is a channel of the great Nile.

Concerning Or. On this mountain of Nitria there was an ascetic named Or, to whom great virtue was attested both by the whole brotherhood and especially by the woman of God, Melania, who entered the mountain before me;

for I did not find him alive.

And they said this in their accounts: that he never lied, never swore, never cursed anyone, and never spoke except when there was need.

[Concerning Pambo.] This Pambo had very many noble deeds and excellences, among which was also this:

he was so contemptuous of gold and silver as the account demands.

And he, sitting and plaiting palm fronds, blessed me with his voice only, and said:

"May God give you your reward."

And he said to his steward Origen:

"For these monasteries are the more in want";

charging him to give none to those in Egypt, because that country was more prosperous.

"But I," she says, "standing and expecting to be honoured or praised by him for the gift, and hearing nothing from him, said to him:

'That you may know, lord, how much it is—it is three hundred pounds.'

But he, not even looking up at all, answered me:

'He to whom you brought it, my child, has no need of a scale.'

For He who weighs the mountains knows far better the quantity of the silver.

'For if you were giving it to me, you would speak rightly;

but if to God, who did not overlook the two mites, be silent.'"

"Thus," she says, "the Lord dispensed it on my entering into the mountain."

[He died] without fever, not having been ill, but [while] stitching a basket, being seventy years old;

who, having sent for me, while the last stitch was being made for completion, about to expire, said to me:

"for I have nothing else to leave you."

Whom she, having prepared for burial and wrapped his body in linen cloths, laid to rest;

and thus she withdrew from the desert, keeping the basket with her until death.

This Pambo, as he was dying, at the very hour of his departure, is said to have spoken thus to Origen the presbyter and steward and to Ammonius—men of great renown—and to the rest of the brethren standing by: "From the time that I came to this place of the desert and built my cell and dwelt here, I do not remember having eaten bread as a gift apart from my own hands;

I have not repented of a word that I have spoken up to this present hour;

and even so I depart to God as one who has not even begun to be godly."

And Origen and Ammonius, who recounted these things to us, bore him this further witness: that he never, when asked a question about Scripture or any other practical matter, answered offhand, but would say [that he had not yet grasped it];

and often three months would pass and he would give no answer, saying he had not grasped it.

Yet they received his pronouncements, made thus carefully according to God, as though from God.

For this virtue he was said to have possessed even beyond the great Antony and beyond all others—the virtue of exactness in speech.

And such a deed of Pambo is reported: that Pior the ascetic, having visited him, brought his own bread, and being charged by him:

"Why have you done this?" he answered;

for after a time, [Pambo] visiting him, carried bread that he had soaked, and when questioned said:

"That I might not burden you, I even soaked the bread."

Concerning Ammonius. This Ammonius, his disciple, together with three other brothers and two sisters of his own, having pressed on to the height of love for God, took up the desert; and the women made a monastery apart, and he too apart, so as to be a sufficient distance from one another.

And since the man was exceedingly learned, and a certain city desired him for a bishop, they came to the blessed Timothy and entreated him to ordain him their bishop.

[Timothy said:] "Bring him to me and I will ordain him."

So when they went off with reinforcements, and he saw that he was caught, he entreated them and swore an oath not to accept ordination, nor to leave the desert;

Then, while they were looking on, he took a pair of shears and cut off his left ear down to the root, saying to them:

"At least from now on be assured that it is impossible for me, since the law forbids that one with a cut-off ear be brought into the priesthood."

So, leaving him thus, they withdrew, and going off told the bishop.

[The bishop said:] "Let this law be observed among the Jews;

but as for me, even if you bring me a man with his nose cut off, if he be worthy in his ways, I will ordain him."

So going off again, they entreated him;

and he swore to them, saying: "If you compel me, I will cut off my tongue."

So, leaving him thus, they withdrew.

Concerning this Ammonius this wonder is reported: that never, when pleasure rose up against him, did he spare his own flesh, but heating an iron, he would apply it to his own limbs, so that he was always covered with sores.

His table, moreover, consisted of raw food from his youth until death;

for he never ate anything that had passed through fire, except bread.

And he was a comforter to the brethren in the desert, if anyone ever was.

To him the blessed Evagrius, a man Spirit-bearing and discerning, gave his vote, saying: "I have never seen a man more passionless than he."

[He once came to the city of Constantine for some need,

at the martyr-shrine called Rufinianae.

Whose tomb is said to heal all who suffer from chills and shivering.] Concerning Benjamin. On this mountain of Nitria there was a certain man named Benjamin, who, having lived for eighty years and practised asceticism to the highest degree, was counted worthy of the gift of healings, so that everyone on whom he laid his hand, or to whom he gave oil that he had blessed, was delivered from every sickness.

This man, then, who had been counted worthy of such a gift, eight months before his death contracted dropsy, and his body became so swollen as to appear like another Job.

Going to him, then, we beheld so great a swelling of body that one finger of his hand could not encircle [the size of] other fingers.

And not being able to gaze upon the dreadfulness of the affliction, we turned away our eyes.

Then that blessed Benjamin said to us:

"Pray, children, that my inner man may not contract dropsy;

for this [body] neither profited me when it was well, nor harmed me when it suffered."

For those eight months, then, a very broad stool was set for him, on which he sat continually, no longer being able to lie back in a bed because of his other bodily needs.

And being in this affliction, he yet healed others.

I have necessarily described this affliction, lest we be astonished whenever some calamity befalls righteous men.

When he died, the doorposts of the door and the side-posts were taken up, that the body might be able to be carried out of the house.

Concerning Apollonius. A certain man named Apollonius, formerly a merchant, having renounced the world and settled on the mountain of Nitria, since he could neither learn a trade nor pursue the study of Scripture on account of his advanced age, having lived twenty years on the mountain, took up this practice:

out of his own money and his own labours, he would buy all kinds of medicines and provisions in Alexandria, and supplied the whole brotherhood in their sicknesses.

And one might see him from early morning until the ninth hour going round the monasteries, entering door by door to see if anyone lay sick;

and he carried raisins, pomegranates, eggs, and fine wheat-cakes, which the sick require, having found this way of life profitable for him into his old age.

Who, as he was dying, left his wares to one like himself, having entreated him to carry out this ministry.

For with five thousand monks dwelling on the mountain, there was need also of this oversight, because the place was a desert.

Concerning Paesius and Isaiah. Two others called Paesius and Isaiah were brothers, sons of a Spanish trader;

who, when their father died, divided the property they had in real estate—five thousand coins in money, and what was found in clothing and household slaves.

These two took counsel with one another and deliberated among themselves, saying:

"What way of life shall we take up, brother? If we go into the trade which our father followed, we too shall have to leave our labours to others;

and perhaps too we shall fall into the dangers of robbers or of the sea."

The aim of the solitary life, then, pleased them.

But they were found to differ, the one from the other [in their way of life].

For having divided the money, each held to his aim of pleasing God, but with a contrasting manner of life.

For the one, having scattered everything to monasteries and churches and prisons, and having learned a small craft whereby he might procure his bread, gave himself to asceticism and prayer.

But the other, having scattered nothing, but having made himself a monastery and taken in a few brothers, would welcome every stranger, every sick person, every old man, every poor man, setting out three or four tables on the Lord's Day and on the Sabbath;

in this way he used up his money.

And some approved of the one, others of the other.

When, then, contention arose in the brotherhood over the praises, they went to the blessed Pambo and referred the decision to him, asking to learn which was the greater way of life;

for the one had displayed a work like Abraham's, the other like Elijah's.

[They asked:] "By your feet, how is it possible that they should be equal?" And when some preferred the ascetic and said: "He has done a thing according to the Gospel, having sold all and given to the poor, and bearing the cross hour by hour and day by day and night by night, and following the Saviour even in his prayers";

but others contending on the opposite side and saying: "This man showed such great things to those in need, that he even sat in the highways and gathered in the afflicted;

and not only did he give rest to his own soul, but also to many others, by nursing the sick and giving aid";

the blessed Pambo says to them:

"And I assure each one of you that this man, if he had not practised so much asceticism, would not have become worthy to be compared with that one's goodness;

while that one, again, giving rest to the strangers, was himself also given rest along with them; and even if he seemed to bear the burden that comes from toil, yet he had also the rest that comes with it.

But wait, that I too may receive the revelation from God, and afterwards, when you come, you shall learn."

So they came again after some days and entreated him, and he said to them, as in the presence of God:

“I saw the two of them together standing in paradise.”

Concerning Macarius the Younger. A certain young man named Macarius, about eighteen years old, while playing with his companions of the same age beside the lake called Maria, as he was pasturing cattle, committed an involuntary homicide.

And without saying anything to anyone he made his way into the desert, and was driven to such fear, both of God and of men, that he lost all feeling for ordinary things and remained for three years out in the open in the wilderness.

Now that land is rainless—all know this, both those who learned it by report and those who learned it by experience.

This man afterwards built himself a cell;

and having lived another twenty-five years in that cell, he was deemed worthy of the gift of holding demons in contempt, delighting in his solitude.

Having spent much time with him, I asked how his conscience stood with regard to the sin of the homicide;

and he said that he was so far from grief that he even gave thanks for the homicide;

for the involuntary homicide had become for him an occasion of salvation.

And he used to cite testimony from the Scriptures, saying that Moses would not have been counted worthy of the divine vision, of so great a gift, and of writing the holy words, had he not, out of fear of Pharaoh on account of the homicide he committed in Egypt, taken refuge on Mount Sinai.

I say these things not to pave a way to homicide, but to show that there are also virtues born of circumstance, when one does not come to the good of his own free choice;

for of the virtues some are of deliberate choice, and others arise from circumstance.

Concerning Nathanael. There was another of the ancients, named Nathanael.

Him I did not find alive;

for he had fallen asleep fifteen years before my arrival;

but coming upon those who had practiced the ascetic life together with him and had been his contemporaries, I inquired diligently into the man’s virtue;

and they even showed me his cell, in which no one now dwelt, because it lay too near the inhabited world;

for he had built it at a time when anchorites were few.

Among these, having been mocked at the outset by the demon who mocks and deceives all, he was tempted to grow weary of his first cell;

and going off, he built another nearer to a village.

Now after he had finished the cell and taken up residence, three or four months later the demon came by night, holding a whip like the public executioners, and wearing the guise of a ragged soldier, and he made a din with the whip.

To him the blessed Nathanael answered, saying:

“Who are you, doing these things in my lodging?” The demon answered:

“I am the one who drove you out of that other cell;

and so I have come also to drive you into flight from this one.”

So, realizing that he had been mocked, he went back again to his first cell.

And having completed thirty-seven years, he did not pass beyond the door, contending stubbornly with the demon;

and that demon displayed against him so many things, trying to force him to come out, as cannot be told.

Watching for an occasion, the visit of seven holy bishops—whether it came about by God’s providence or from that one’s tempting—all but drove him aground from his purpose.

For when the bishops, after praying, were going out, he did not escort them so much as a foot’s pace.

The deacons said to him:

“You are doing an arrogant thing, abba, in not escorting the bishops.”

“I have died both to my lords the bishops and to the whole world;

for I have a hidden aim, and God knows my heart; therefore I do not escort them.”

So the demon, having failed in this stratagem, took on a shape nine months before his death, and became a child of about ten years old, driving a donkey that carried loaves in a basket.

And, coming late one evening near his cell, it pretended that the donkey had fallen and the child was crying out:

“Abba Nathanael, have mercy on me and give me a hand!”

And he, hearing the voice of the supposed child and slightly opening the door, standing within, spoke to it:

“Who are you, and what do you wish me to do for you?” It said to him:

“I am So-and-so’s lad, and I am carrying loaves; for it is for love of such-and-such a brother, and tomorrow, as the Sabbath dawns, there is need of the offerings;

I beg you, do not overlook me, lest I be devoured by the hyenas.”

For there are many hyenas in those parts.

So the blessed Nathanael, standing dumbfounded, was greatly seized with dizziness, his inward parts troubled, and he reasoned within himself, saying:

“Either I must fall away from the commandment, or from my purpose.”

Later, however, reckoning that it was better not to shake the purpose of so many years, to the shame of the devil, after praying he said to the supposed child who was addressing him:

“I believe in the God whom I serve, that, if you have need, God will send you help, and neither hyenas nor anyone else will harm you;

but if you are a temptation, God will reveal the drama at once, here and now.”

And shutting the door, he went in.

And the demon, put to shame at his defeat, dissolved into a whirlwind and into wild asses leaping and fleeing and letting loose their noises.

This was the contest of the blessed Nathanael, and such was his manner of life, and such his end.

Concerning Macarius the Egyptian.

The deeds concerning the two Macarii, those celebrated men, being many and great and hard to believe, I shrink from both telling and writing, lest I incur the reputation of a liar.

But that the Lord destroys all who speak falsehood the Holy Spirit has declared.

Since therefore I am not lying, O most faithful one, do not disbelieve.

Of these Macarii, the one was an Egyptian by race, the other an Alexandrian, who sold sweetmeats.

And first I shall tell concerning the Egyptian, who lived in all ninety years.

Of these he passed sixty years in the desert, having gone up there as a young man of thirty;

and he was deemed worthy of such great discernment that he was called ‘the old man in the child,’ ‘the youthful elder’;

for at forty years of age he received grace against spirits and for healings and predictions;

and he was also counted worthy of the priesthood.

He had two disciples with him in the inmost desert, the one called Scetis;

of whom the one was a servant near him because of those who came to be healed, and the other was at leisure in a cell very close by.

As time advanced, foreseeing with discerning eye, he said to the one who ministered to him, called John, who afterwards became presbyter in the place of Macarius himself:

“Listen to me, brother John, and bear with my admonition;

for you are being tempted, and the spirit of avarice is tempting you;

and I know that if you bear with me, you will be perfected in this place and be glorified, and no scourge will draw near in your tent;

but if you do not, in the end the very affliction whose passion you are now sick with will come upon you.”

Now it came to pass that he disobeyed, after the falling asleep of Macarius, some fifteen or twenty years later, and so he became a leper, having embezzled what belonged to the poor, such that not a sound spot could be found on his body where one might set a finger.