(A.D. 341.)
[S. Paul died on Jan. 10th, on which day he is commemorated in most
ancient Martyrologies, as the Roman, that of Cologne, Bede, &c. But
both Greeks and Latins have transferred his feast to Jan. 15th, so
as not to interfere with the celebration of the Octave of the
Epiphany. The York Breviary and those of Paul III., and of the
Dominican Order, commemorate him on the 29th Jan. His life, written
by S. Jerome, is perfectly authentic. The following is a
translation, much abridged, from the original.]
Under the persecuting Emperors Decius and Valerius, at the time that
Cornelius was Bishop at Rome, and Cyprian, Bishop at Carthage, were
condemned to shed their blessed blood, a cruel tempest swept over the
Churches in Egypt and the Thebaid.
"In those days, in the Lower Thebaid, was Paul, to whom had been left a
rich inheritance, at the death of both his parents, with a sister
already married. He was then about fifteen years old, well taught in
Greek and Egyptian literature, gentle tempered, and loving God much.
When the storm of persecution burst, he withdrew into a distant city.
But his sister's husband purposed to betray him, notwithstanding the
tears of his wife; however, the boy discovered it, and fled into the
desert hills. Once there, necessity became a pleasure, and going on, and
then stopping awhile, he reached at last a stony cliff, at the foot of
which was a great cave; its mouth closed with a stone. Having rolled
this away, and exploring more greedily, he saw within a great vault open
to the sky above, but shaded by the spreading boughs of an ancient
date-palm; and in it a clear spring, the rill of which, flowing a short
space forth, was sucked up again by the soil.
"There were, besides, not a few dwellings in that cavernous mountain, in
which he saw rusty anvils and hammers, with which coin that had been
stamped of old. For this place was an old workshop for base coin.
"Therefore, in this beloved dwelling, offered him as it were by God, he
spent all his life in prayer and solitude, while the palm-tree gave him
food and clothes.
"When the blessed Paul had been leading the heavenly life on earth for
113 years, and Antony, ninety years old, was dwelling in another
solitude, this thought (so Antony was wont to assert) entered his
mind--that no monk more perfect than himself had settled in the desert.
But as he lay still by night, it was revealed to him that there was
another monk far better than he, to visit whom he must set out. So when
the light broke, the venerable old man, supporting his weak limbs on a
staff, began to go he knew not whither. And now the mid-day, with the
sun roasting above, grew fierce; and yet he was not turned from the
journey he had begun, for he said 'I trust in my God, that he will show
His servant that which He has promised.' Antony went on through that
region, seeing only the tracks of wild beasts, and the wide waste of the
desert. What he should do, or whither turn, he knew not. A second day
had now run by.
[Illustration: HERMIT SAINT.
From a Drawing by A. Welby Pugin.
Jan. 15.]
One thing remained, to be confident that he could not be deserted by
Christ. All night through he spent a second darkness in prayer, and
while the light was still dim, he saw afar a she-wolf, panting with heat
and thirst, creeping in at the foot of the mountain. Following her with
his eyes, and drawing nigh to the cave when the beast was gone, he began
to look in: but in vain; for the darkness stopped his view. However, as
the Scripture saith, perfect love casteth out fear; with gentle step and
bated breath the cunning explorer entered, and going forward slowly, and
stopping often, watched for a sound. At length he saw afar off a light
through the horror of the darkness; then he hastened on more greedily,
struck his foot against a stone, and made a noise, at which the blessed
Paul shut and barred his door, which had stood open.
"Then Antony, casting himself down before the entrance, prayed there
till the sixth hour, and more, to be let in, saying, 'Who I am, and
whence, and why I am come, thou knowest I know that I deserve not to see
thy face; yet, unless I see thee, I will not return. Thou who receivest
beasts, why repellest thou a man? I have sought, and I have found. I
knock that it may be opened to me: which if I win not, here will I die
before thy gate. Surely thou shalt at least bury my corpse.'
"'No one begs thus to threaten. No one does injury with tears. And dost
thou wonder why I do not let thee in, seeing thou art a mortal guest?'
Thus spake Paul, and then smiling, he opened the door. They mutually
embraced and saluted each other by name, and committed themselves in
common to the grace of God. And after the holy kiss, Paul, sitting down
with Antony, thus began--
"'Behold him whom thou hast sought with such labour; with limbs decayed
by age, and covered with unkempt white hair. Behold, thou seest but a
mortal, soon to become dust. But, because charity bears all things, tell
me, I pray thee, how fares the human race? whether new houses are rising
in the ancient cities? by what emperor is the world governed? whether
there are any left who are led captive by the deceits of the devil?' As
they spoke thus, they saw a raven settle on a bough; who, flying gently
down, laid, to their wonder, a whole loaf before them. When he was gone,
'Ah,' said Paul, 'the Lord truly loving, truly merciful, hath sent us a
meal. For sixty years past I have received daily half a loaf, but, at
thy coming, Christ hath doubled his soldiers' allowance.' Then, having
thanked God, they sat down on the brink of the glassy spring.
"But here a contention arising as to which of them should break the
loaf, occupied the day till well-nigh evening. Paul insisted, as the
host; Antony declined, as the younger man. At last it was agreed that
they should take hold of the loaf at opposite ends, and each pull
towards himself, and keep what was left in his hand. Next they stooped
down, and drank a little water from the spring; then, offering to God
the sacrifice of praise, they passed the night watching.
"And when day dawned again, the blessed Paul said to Antony, 'I knew
long since, brother, that thou wert dwelling in these lands; long since
God had promised thee to me as a fellow-servant: but because the time of
my falling asleep is now come, and (because I always longed to depart,
and to be with Christ) there is laid up for me, when I have finished my
course, a crown of righteousness; therefore thou art sent from the Lord
to cover my corpse with mould, and give back dust to dust.'
"Antony, hearing this, prayed him with tears and groans not to desert
him, but take him as his companion on such a journey. But he said, 'Thou
must not seek the things which are thine own, but the things of others.
It is expedient for thee, indeed, to cast off the burden of the flesh,
and to follow the Lamb: but it is expedient for the rest of the brethren
that they should be still trained by thine example. Wherefore go, unless
it displeases thee, and bring the cloak which Athanasius the bishop gave
thee, to wrap up my corpse.' But this the blessed Paul asked, not
because he cared greatly whether his body decayed covered or bare (for
he had long been used to clothe himself with woven palm leaves), but
that Antony's grief at his death might be lightened when he left him.
Antony astounded that he had heard of Athanasius and his own cloak,
dared answer nothing: but keeping in silence, and kissing his eyes and
hands, returned to the monastery. Tired and breathless, he arrived at
home. There two disciples met him, who had been long sent to minister to
him, and asked him, 'Where hast thou tarried so long, father?' He
answered, 'Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of a monk. I
have seen Elias; I have seen John in the desert; I have truly seen Paul
in Paradise;' and so, closing his lips, and beating his breast, he took
the cloak from his cell, and when his disciples asked him to explain
more fully what had befallen, he said, 'There is a time to be silent,
and a time to speak.' Then going out, and not taking even a morsel of
food, he returned by the way he had come. For he feared--what actually
happened--lest Paul in his absence should render up his soul to Christ.
"And when the second day had shone, and he had retraced his steps for
three hours, he saw amid hosts of angels, amid the choirs of prophets
and apostles, Paul shining white as snow, ascending up on high. The
blessed Antony used to tell afterwards, how he ran the rest of the way
so swiftly, that he seemed to fly like a bird. Nor without cause. For
entering the cave he saw Paul on bended knees, erect with hands spread
out on high,--a lifeless corpse. And at first, thinking that it still
lived, he prayed in like wise. But when he heard no sighs come from the
worshipper's breast, he gave him a tearful kiss, understanding how the
very corpse of the Saint was praying to that God to whom all live.
"So, having wrapped up and carried forth the corpse, and chanting hymns,
Antony grew sad, because he had no spade, wherewith to dig the ground;
and thinking over many plans in his mind, said, 'If I go back to the
monastery, it is a three days' journey. If I stay here, I shall be of no
more use. I will die, then, as it is fit; and, falling beside thy
warrior, O Christ! breathe my last breath.'
"As he was thinking thus to himself, two lions came running from the
inner part of the desert, their manes tossing on their necks. Seeing
these, he shuddered at first: but then, turning his mind to God, he
remained without fear. They came straight to the corpse of the blessed
old man, and crouched at his feet, wagging their tails, and roaring with
mighty growls, so that Antony understood them to lament, as best they
could. Then they began to claw the ground with their paws, and, carrying
out the sand eagerly, dug a place large enough to hold a man: then at
once, as if begging a reward for their work, they came to Antony,
drooping their necks, and licking his hands and feet. But he perceived
that they prayed a blessing from him; and at once, bursting into praise
of Christ, because even dumb animals felt that He was God, he said,
'Lord, without whose word not a leaf of the tree drops, nor one sparrow
falls to the ground, give to them as thou knowest how to give.' And,
signing to them with his hand, he bade them go.
"And when they had departed, he bent his aged shoulders to the weight of
the holy corpse; and laying it in the grave, heaped earth on it, and
raised a mound as is the wont. And when another dawn shone, lest the
pious heir should not possess aught of the goods of the intestate dead,
he kept for himself the tunic which Paul had woven out of the leaves of
the palm; and returning to the monastery, told his disciples all
throughout; and, on the solemn days of Easter and Pentecost, he always
clothed himself in Paul's tunic."