Life of Paul of Thebes by Jerome
Life of Paul of Thebes by Jerome
INTRODUCTION
There is disagreement over the exact date of Jerome’s birth: was he born as early as 331 or perhaps as late as 347? Whatever the truth, it would seem that his Life of Paul of Thebes, probably written at Antioch in 3371 after he had deserted the desert of Chalcis and was once again staying with Evagrius, was to be his first published work: the only earlier writings we have from Jerome’s pen are a few letters. He may have been inspired to write it when he saw the success of Evagrius’ translation of the Life of Antony. It differs from the Life of Antony , however, in that it deals only with Paul’s youth and extreme old age, and acts as a sort of preface to the Life of Antony. Jerome’s intention, he tells us in his prologue, is to prove that Antony was not in fact the first person to choose a life of extreme asceticism in the desert. He does this by showing us the ninety-year-old Antony2 coming to the realization that there is someone in the desert who is better than him. Moved by this, he decides to visit Paul even though he has no idea where he lives. He sets out and is guided by strange creatures, a satyr and then a centaur, until he finds the cave where Paul, now 113 years old, had been living for over ninety years! The meeting between the two hermits is both touching and gently amusing. They discuss Paul’s death, which he knows is imminent, and compete with each other in humility. Paul tactfully sends Antony back to his cell to fetch a cloak so that Antony will not witness his death. Antony returns to find Paul’s corpse still kneeling in prayer. He is at a loss as to how to bury him since he has no spade, but is miraculously helped by two friendly lions who come to dig the grave. He wraps Paul’s body in the cloak which Athanasius had given him, in accordance with Paul’s instructions.3
On completion of this work Jerome sent it first to an old man, Paul of Concordia, a learned ascetic whom he had known while living in the region of Aquileia. He accompanied it by a letter4 in which he says that he has worked hard to make the Life of Paul readable and if his addressee finds it so, he will send him some more of his writings. Paul of Concordia was not the only one to read it: by the time Jerome set out to write the Life of Hilarion, he could speak of the public reaction to the Life of Paul, which had not been altogether favourable. Some had clearly criticized his account on the grounds that since Paul lived a life of such utter remoteness, there was no proof that he had actually existed. Jerome, however, had no doubts about Paul’s existence. Whatever the truth – and the fact that Jerome tells us little of what Paul did during the long years of complete solitude perhaps increases the story’s plausibility – Jerome’s decision to focus on the meeting of Antony and Paul was a master stroke for it meant that the Life of Paul became associated with the Life of Antony and was deemed of interest as providing further information about Antony: Paul of Thebes could survive, as it were, by clinging on to Antony. This is not to say that Jerome’s short account of Paul’s long life is not very readable in its own right. If it is limited in the amount it tells us about Paul, it does tell us much about Jerome, his ideals and interests. We find in this work many of the characteristics of his later writings: his obsession with sex, his inability to write without literary allusions even when he is aiming at a simple style, his admiration for a life of withdrawal and extreme asceticism even though he now realizes, after attempting it for several years in the desert of Chalcis, that he himself is not suited for such a life.
1 It has often been a matter of discussion among many people as to which monk was the first to inhabit the desert. Some, going back further into the past, have ascribed the beginning to the blessed Elijah and to John; of these, Elijah seems to us to have been more than a monk, while John seems to have started to prophesy before he was born. Others, whose opinion is commonly accepted, claim that Antony was the first to undertake this way of life, which is partly true, for it is not so much that he came before all the others but rather that he inspired everyone with a commitment to this way of life. Amathas and Macarius,1 Antony’s disciples (of whom the former buried his master’s body), affirm to this day that a certain Paul of Thebes was the originator of the practice, though not of the name, of the solitary life, and this is the view I also take. Some people make these and other claims as the whim takes them. They claim, for example, that there was a man living in an underground cave, with hair down to his feet, and they invent many unbelievable things which it is a waste of time to recount. Since their opinion is a bare-faced lie, it seems unnecessary to refute it. Seeing, then, that an account of Antony has been recorded in both Greek and Latin,2 I have decided to write a few things about the beginning and end of Paul’s life, more because these things have been neglected than because of any talent on my part. As to how he lived during the middle years of his life and what attacks of Satan he endured, no one knows anything for certain.
2 During the persecutions under Decius and Valerian, when Cornelius at Rome and Cyprian at Carthage shed their blood in blessed martyrdom, a violent storm ravaged many churches in Egypt and the Thebaid. At that time Christians longed to be killed by the sword for the name of Christ. But the cunning enemy was more keen to murder their souls than their bodies, and so he arranged for them to be put to death by slow torture. And as Cyprian himself, whom he put to death, said, ‘Those who wished to die were not permitted to be killed.’3 So that the enemy’s cruelty might be better known, we shall include two examples to ensure they are not forgotten.
3 When one martyr, remaining steadfast in the faith, refused to give in amidst the racks and the red-hot metal plates, the order was given for him to be smeared with honey and placed beneath the blazing sun, with his hands tied behind his back, so that he who had earlier survived the burning metal plates might succumb to mosquito bites. Another martyr, in the flower of his youth, was ordered to be taken off to a most delightful garden. There, amid the white lilies and red roses, beside which a gently murmuring stream meandered, while the wind plucked lightly at the leaves of the trees producing a soft whisper, he was made to lie down on a thick feather bed. He was left there, tied down by soft garlands to prevent him escaping. When everyone had gone away, a beautiful prostitute came up to him and began to stroke his neck with gentle caresses, and (what is improper even to relate) to touch his private parts with her hands: when his body was roused to lust as a result, this shameful conqueress lay down on top of him. The soldier of Christ did not know what to do or where to turn: he who had not yielded to tortures was being overcome by pleasure. At last, by divine inspiration, he bit off his tongue and spat it out in her face4 as she kissed him; and so the sense of lust was overcome by the sharp pain that replaced it.
4 While these things were happening, in the Lower Thebaid Paul was left a wealthy heir at the age of about sixteen, after his sister’s marriage and the death of both his parents. He was highly educated in both Greek and Egyptian letters, with a compassionate disposition and a profound love of God. As the storm of persecution rumbled on, he withdrew to a more distant and isolated spot. But to what does the accursed greed for gold5 not drive the hearts of men? His sister’s husband conceived a desire to betray the person he ought to have concealed; neither his wife’s tears (as is usually the case), nor family ties, nor God who watches everything from on high, could dissuade him from this crime. He was on the spot, he was insistent, he practised cruelty as though it were kindness.6
5 As soon as this very wise young man realized what was going on, he fled to the mountainous regions of the desert to await an end to the persecution, making a virtue of necessity. He would move on a bit further into the desert, then stop for a while: repeating this pattern, he at last came to a rocky mountain at the foot of which was a small cave, its entrance blocked by a stone. Removing this (for it is human nature to want to discover what is hidden), he began to explore more eagerly: inside he found a large chamber, open to the sky above and covered by the spreading branches of an old palm tree. This indicated that there was a spring of clearest water, whose stream gushed forth and was immediately absorbed through a small crack in the ground which had produced it. There were, moreover, throughout the hollow mountain, a number of rooms in which were to be seen rusty stamps and hammers, used to stamp coins. According to Egyptian records this place had been a secret factory for minting money at the time when Antony was having an affair with Cleopatra.
6 Paul fell in love with this dwelling as if it had been offered to him by God, and spent the rest of his life there in prayer and solitude. The palm tree provided him with food and clothing. In case anyone should think this impossible, I call Jesus and his holy angels to witness that in the part of the desert close to Syria and the Saracens, I myself have seen monks (and I know that they still exist there), one of whom was enclosed for thirty years, living on barley bread and muddy water, while another survived in an old well (which the Syrians call a ‘gubba’ in their local dialect), living on five dried figs a day. These things will appear incredible only to those who do not believe that everything is possible for those who believe.7
7 But to return to the point where I digressed: when Paul had now been leading his heavenly life on earth for one hundred and thirteen years, while the ninety-year-old Antony was living in another part of the desert, it occurred to Antony (as he himself used to relate) that there was no monk in the wilderness more perfect than himself. But during the night while he was asleep it was revealed to him that there was someone else further into the desert interior who was far better than him and whom he ought to go and visit. As soon as dawn broke, the venerable old man, using a stick to support his weak limbs, conceived a wish to go, although he did not know where. It was now scorching midday and the sun was blazing down from on high, and yet he was not dissuaded from the journey he had set out on, for he said to himself, ‘I believe that my God will show me my fellow servant as he has promised.’ He had said no more than this, when he caught sight of a creature that was half man and half horse, to which the poets have given the name Hippocentaur. At the sight of it, he protected himself by making the life-giving sign on his own forehead and said, ‘Hey you, where does the servant of God live?’ The creature gave some kind of barbaric grunt, grinding out the words through his bristling lips rather than pronouncing them. By means of this rough speech he indicated a desire for friendly communication. Stretching out his right hand he indicated the route that Antony was seeking. Then crossing the open plain at a gallop, he vanished from the eyes of the astonished man. Now whether the devil had contrived these things so as to terrify Antony or whether, as often happens, the desert which abounds in monstrous creatures had produced this beast too, we are not sure.
8 Antony was amazed. Reflecting on what he had seen he went on his way. It was not long before he saw in the rocky valley a man of no great height, with a hooked nose, his forehead sprouting sharp horns, the lower part of whose body ended in goats’ feet. At the sight of him, Antony, like a good soldier, seized the shield of faith and the breastplate of hope, but this animal brought him the fruits of the date palm to eat on his journey, as pledges of peace. When he realized this Antony stopped and on asking who he was, he received this answer from him: ‘I am a mortal creature, one of the inhabitants of the desert whom the pagans, deluded by various errors, worship, calling them fauns, satyrs and evil spirits. I am acting as envoy for my tribe. We ask you to pray for us to the Lord we share, for we know He came once for the salvation of the world, and His sound has gone out over the whole earth.’8 As the creature said this, tears streamed down the aged traveller’s face, tears which, in his great happiness, he shed as an indication of his feelings, for he rejoiced in Christ’s glory and in the destruction of Satan. He was amazed to be able to understand the creature’s speech and striking the ground with his staff he said, ‘Woe to you, Alexandria, for worshipping monsters instead of God. Woe to you, you whore of a city, to which demons from all over the world have flocked in great numbers. What have you to say now? The wild beasts speak of Christ while you worship monsters instead of God.’ He had hardly finished speaking when this frisky animal ran away as if borne on wings. In case anyone has scruples about believing this, it was proved to be true by what took place while Constantius was emperor, witnessed by the whole world. For a man of this kind was brought to Alexandria alive, providing the people with a marvellous spectacle. Later, when it was a lifeless corpse, salt was sprinkled on it to prevent the summer heat causing it to putrefy, and it was carried to Antioch for the emperor to see it.
9 But to proceed with my proposed account, Antony continued on his journey, seeing nothing but the tracks of wild animals and the immense vastness of the desert. He did not know what to do or which way to go. Already another day had passed and there was only one thing left: to remain confident that he would not be abandoned by Christ. He spent the whole second night in prayer and in the faint light of dawn he saw a she-wolf near by, panting with thirst and moving stealthily along to the foot of a mountain. He followed it with his eyes and when the wild beast disappeared into a cave he went up close and tried to look inside. His curiosity achieved nothing for the darkness prevented him seeing anything. But as Scripture says, Perfect love casts out fear,9 and so, walking carefully and holding his breath, this cunning explorer entered the cave. Going in a bit further, he kept stopping to listen for a sound. At last, through the terrifying darkness of the night which made it impossible to see anything, he discerned a light in the distance. As he quickened his pace in his eagerness, he bumped his foot against a stone, making a noise. When the blessed Paul heard this noise he closed and bolted a door that had been open. Then Antony fell down in front of this door and continued to beg to be allowed in until it was the sixth hour of the day or even later, saying, ‘You know who I am, where I come from and why I have come. I know that I do not deserve to see you but I will not go away unless I do. Why do you, who welcome animals, drive a person away? I have sought you and I have found you: I knock that it may be opened to me.10 If I do not get what I want, I shall die here in front of your door – and I trust you will bury my body when I am dead.’
He stood there thinking of these things, and remained transfixed.11 In response the hero spoke a few words thus:12 ‘No one makes a request like this as a threat; no one attempts treachery with tears. Are you surprised if I do not welcome you, since you come here with the intention of dying?’ Then Paul smiled and unbolted the door. When it was open, they embraced each other, and greeting each other by name, they joined in giving thanks to the Lord.
10 After the holy kiss, Paul sat down and began to speak to Antony as follows: ‘Look at the person you sought with such effort: ugly grey hair covers his limbs which are rotting with old age. Look upon a man who will soon be dust. But because love endures all things,13 tell me, I beg you, how the human race is getting on. Are new buildings rising up in the old cities? What government rules the world? Are there still some people alive who are in the grip of the demons’ error?’ While they were talking they noticed a raven land on the branch of a tree: it then flew down gently and placed a whole loaf of bread in front of them as they watched in amazement. When it had flown away Paul said, ‘Look, the Lord who is truly loving and truly merciful has sent us our supper. For the last sixty years I have always received half a loaf,14 but in honour of your arrival Christ has doubled His soldiers’ rations.’
11 When they had given thanks to the Lord, they both sat down at the edge of a spring as clear as glass. Here a dispute arose as to which of them should break the bread and they continued to argue until the day had almost turned to evening. Paul argued that it was the custom for the guest to do so, while Antony countered with the rights of age. At last it was decided that they should hold the bread at each end, and then if each one pulled towards himself, he would keep the bit left in his hands. Then they bent over the spring and drank a little of the water, and offering to God a sacrifice of praise, they passed the night in prayer. As soon as daylight returned to earth, the blessed Paul spoke thus to Antony, ‘It is a long time, dear brother, since I learnt that you were living in these parts; it is a long time since God promised that you would be my fellow servant. But now, as the time of my death is close at hand when I will be released to be with Christ as I have always longed to do,15 there remains for me a crown of righteousness now that I have run the course.16 You have been sent by the Lord to cover my poor body with earth, or rather, to return earth to earth.’
12 When Antony heard this, he wept and groaned, and begged Paul not to leave him but to take him as his companion on that journey. But Paul said, ‘You ought not to seek your own benefit but that of others.17 It might be to your advantage to lay down the burden of the flesh and to follow the Lamb, but it is also beneficial for the other brothers to be instructed by your example. And so I beg you to go back, unless it is too much trouble, and bring me the cloak which bishop Athanasius gave you and wrap it around my poor body.’ The blessed Paul asked this not because he was particularly bothered whether his corpse was naked or clothed as it decomposed (had he not for a long time been dressed in woven palm leaves?) but so that by going away Antony might be spared the grief caused by Paul’s death. Antony was astonished that Paul had heard about Athanasius and his cloak. It was as if he saw Christ in Paul and so he worshipped God in his heart, but he dared make no further answer. Weeping in silence, he kissed Paul’s eyes and hands and returned to the monastery that was later captured by the Saracens. His steps could not keep up with his will, but although his body was emaciated as a result of fasting and broken by old age, yet his will overcame his age.
13 Exhausted and breathless he at last arrived home, his journey over. Two of his disciples, who had started looking after him now that he was getting old, ran to meet him, saying, ‘Where have you been all this time, father?’ He replied, ‘Alas for me, sinner that I am. It is dishonest of me to call myself a monk. I have seen Elijah, I have seen John in the desert and now I have seen Paul in paradise.’ And so, with lips tightly closed and beating his breast with his hands, he fetched the cloak from his little cell. When his disciples begged him to explain what this was all about, he said to them, ‘There is a time for silence and a time for speech.’18
14 Then Antony went out and returned the way he had come without taking even a small amount of food, for he longed for Paul, desiring to see him and to contemplate him with his eyes and with his whole heart. He feared the very thing that had in fact happened, namely that in his absence Paul would have given up the spirit he owed to Christ. When the next day dawned and there was still a three-hour journey left, he saw Paul among the hosts of angels, among the choirs of prophets and apostles, shining with a dazzling whiteness and ascending on high. Immediately Antony fell to the ground and threw sand over his head. Weeping and wailing he said, ‘Why do you send me away, Paul? Why are you going away without saying goodbye? Are you leaving so soon, when I have only just got to know you?’
15 The blessed Antony later reported that he had run the rest of the way with such speed that he had flown like a bird. There was good reason to hurry for when he entered the cave he saw the lifeless corpse, in a kneeling position, its head erect and its hands stretched out towards heaven. At first he thought that Paul was still alive and so he knelt down beside him to pray, but when he heard no sighs from the praying man, as he usually did, he fell upon him in a tearful embrace, realizing that even as a corpse the holy man, by means of his reverent posture, was praying to God for whom all things live.
16 Antony therefore wrapped Paul’s body up and brought it outside, singing hymns and psalms according to Christian tradition, but he was upset that he did not have a spade with which to dig the earth. His thoughts were in turmoil as he considered a number of alternatives, saying to himself, ‘If I go back to the monastery, it is a four-day journey. If I stay here, I can do nothing more. Therefore let me die beside your warrior, Christ, as is fitting. Let me collapse and breathe forth my last breath.’ As he was pondering these things, behold, two lions came running from the inner desert, their manes flowing over their necks. At first Antony was terrified at the sight of them but when he focused his mind on God he was able to stand still without fear as if what he saw was a pair of doves. They came straight towards the corpse of the blessed old man and stopped there; wagging their tails in devotion they lay down at his feet, roaring loudly as if to show that in their own way they were lamenting as best they could. They then began to dig the ground near by with their paws: vying with each other to remove the sand, they dug out a space large enough for one man. They then went straight up to Antony, their necks bent and their ears laid back, and licked his hands and feet as if demanding a reward for their hard work. He realized that they were asking him for a blessing. Immediately he burst out in praise of Christ because dumb animals, too, were able to understand that there was a God, and said, ‘O Lord, without whose assent no leaf flutters down from the tree and not a single sparrow falls to the ground, grant them what you know to be best.’ Making a sign to them with his hand, he ordered them to depart. As soon as they had gone away, he bent his aged shoulders beneath the burden of the holy corpse. Laying it in the grave he piled the earth on top of it and made a burial mound according to custom. But when the next day dawned, in case this affectionate heir should possess none of the goods of the intestate man, he took the tunic that Paul had woven for himself out of palm leaves like a wicker basket. He then returned to the monastery and gave the disciples a detailed account of all that had happened, and on the feast days of Easter and Pentecost he always wore Paul’s tunic. 17 At the end of this little work I would like to ask those who own so much land that they do not know it all, those who cover their homes in marble, those who thread the wealth of whole estates on to one string, ‘What did this old man ever lack, naked as he was? You drink from jewelled cups but he was satisfied with the cupped hands that nature had given him. You weave gold into your tunics but he did not even have the shabbiest garment belonging to your slave. But then, paradise lies open to him, poor as he was, while hell will welcome you in your golden clothes. He was clothed with Christ despite his nakedness: you who are dressed in silks have lost the garment of Christ. Paul who lies covered in the vilest dust will rise again in glory: heavy stone tombs press down upon you, you who will burn together with your wealth. Have a care, I ask you, for yourselves, have a care at least for the riches you love. Why do you wrap your dead in cloths of gold? Why does your ostentation not cease amidst the grief and tears? Or are the corpses of the rich unable to rot except in clothes of silk?’
18 I beg you, whoever you are who reads this, to remember the sinner Jerome: should the Lord grant him his wish, he would far rather choose Paul’s tunic, together with his rewards, than the purple robes of kings, together with their punishments.