Saint Arsenius of Rome

His reputation reached Empe ror Theodosius the Great, wh l'empereur Théodose le Grand Roman Emperor under whom Theodulus served as prefect. o, wishing to provide for the education of his children, summoned him to Consta Constantinople City where the saint exercised his ministry and patriarchate. ntinople to entrust their guidance to him. The choice of such a great prince could only fall upon one of the most illustrious figures of the empire: which is no small subject of praise for Saint Arsenius; but he was so worthy of it that if this choice did him honor, it did no less for the keen discernment of Theodosius.

His arrival at the imperial court appears to date from the year 383. He was twenty-nine years old; so he may have been born aroun Arcade Roman emperor under whose reign Anthemius served as consul. d the year 354. Arcadius, the emperor's first son, was only six years o ld when Honorius Western Roman Emperor who abolished the gladiatorial games after the death of Telemachus. he arrived, and Honorius, his brother, was not yet born. He did not come into the world until the following year, and it was only in his eighth year that Arsenius was charged with his guidance, having previously had that of Arcadius. The title of father of the emperors, which the solitaries later gave him, sufficiently shows in what high regard he was held at court. Saint Theodore the Studite, who also gives it to him, says that he held the first rank after the prince, and this seems to authorize what Metaphrastes says, that the emperor placed him in the rank of senators and honored him with the title of patrician.

Be that as it may, Arsenius, whether to maintain his dignity or because he naturally loved splendor, cut a brilliant figure at court. He was the most richly dressed and the most superbly furnished. He made great use of perfumes, and had at his service a thousand servants all dressed in rich fabrics. God, who in His mercy was calling him to more solid greatness, did not permit the things of the earth to dazzle him so much that he did not recognize their false luster. Arsenius, sometimes retreating within himself through salutary reflections, felt that his elevation and his riches were only fleeting goods that one is forced to leave behind with life, after which only our works remain to us. He felt this, and the grace that acted in his heart also imprinted upon it, along with these reflections, a vivid fear of losing his soul. From time to time he threw himself at the feet of God, and pouring out his tears and prayers before Him, he asked Him with sincerity to let him know what he must do to be saved. Finally, his perseverance in this request obtained for him from God a grace that can be regarded as the striking epoch of his vocation to the sublime perfection to which he later rose.

Praying therefore one day as was his custom and reiterating the same request with tears, he heard a voice that said to him: "Arsenius, flee the company of men, and you will be saved." Whether this voice struck his ears externally, or whether it made itself heard only in the depths of his heart, it was no less distinct and produced no less an effect. This great man, whose heart was already, as Saint Theodore says, prepared for sacrifice by the fear of the Lord, did not delay after this oracle, and, despising all the frivolous greatness of the earth, he embarked secretly on a ship that was sailing for Alexandria, from where he went to the desert of Scetis to embrace the solitary life. désert de Scété The primary location of Arsenius's monastic life in Egypt.

He was then forty years old; it may have been the year 394. He went immediately to the church of the solitaries, and addressing them, he said with great modesty: "I beg you to receive me among the number of the monks, and to show me the way I must follow to be saved." It was not difficult for them to understand, from his manner and his speech, that he was a person of great consideration. They questioned him much to know where he came from, and what he did in the world. But he tried to defend himself, alleging only that he was a stranger who sought only to ensure his salvation. Finally, seeing that all he said to hide his rank and condition changed nothing in the judgment they had first formed of his person, he gave them the confidence they desired, hoping to engage them thereby more effectively to serve him in his holy enterprise.

They were not a little embarrassed to know to which of the solitaries of this desert they should address him to train him in monastic virtues. It was not easy to find a master for one who had been the master of the children of the master of the world; but after consulting among themselves, they cast their eyes upon the venerable John the Dwarf and led him to his cell.

This fam ous solitary Jean le Nain Spiritual master of Arsenius in the desert. , having learned from them in private the subject that brought them and the qualities of Arsenius, did not at first declare what he thought of it; but the hour of None having come, he said to them: "If you wish, my brothers, we will anticipate the time of the meal (for the solitaries ate only at the hour of Sext), and as for the rest, let the will of God be done." He set the table at the same time, sat down with them, and left Arsenius standing, without even pretending to notice him. While he remained in this humiliating position, John the Dwarf took a loaf of bread that was on the table, threw it into the middle of the cell, and looking at him with an air of indifference, said to him: "Eat, if you wish." Immediately Arsenius went toward the place where he had thrown it to him, picked it up, and then ate it. Such rare docility made the venerable John the Dwarf understand the solidity of his vocation. He asked for no other proof, and said to the religious: "You may, my brothers, go with the blessing of the Lord. Pray for us. I assure you that this one is fit for the religious life."

These solitaries then asked Arsenius what he had thought of the way in which John the Dwarf had treated him; and he answered them that he had considered himself as a dog, and that he had, with the same idea, eaten the bread that he had thrown to him on the ground: which edified them greatly. He did not need, after such a happy beginning, to remain a disciple for long to be formed in the duties of his new state. His master had the consolation of seeing him make, under his guidance, such rapid progress in perfection that he surpassed even the oldest of the desert in constancy in enduring the labors of penance, and in patience and courage in sustaining the battles of the passions and the demon; so that, as in the world he had distinguished himself by his science and his pomp, he distinguished himself even more in religion by his humility and his mortification. This caused his spiritual father, recognizing the attraction of his grace, which was for the entirely retired life, to not keep him with him any longer and to permit him to remain alone.

It was then that, finding himself in full liberty to surrender to the full extent of his fervor, he prayed again to Our Lord to make known to him what he must do to attain holiness, and he heard again a voice that said to him: "Arsenius, flee from men, keep silence, and remain in rest: these are the first foundations that you must lay to raise the edifice of your salvation." Saint Theodore says that having received this divine lesson, he began from then on, more than ever, to carry all his affections toward heaven. His body was, in truth, on earth, but the familiar conversation of his heart was only with the blessed spirits. This excellent lesson served as his rule of conduct for his whole life. He never ceased to apply it to himself, and nothing appears more marvelous in him than the care he took to put it into practice; which has made him an object of admiration to all antiquity.

He advanced into the desert, thirteen leagues away from the church of Scetis, to better distance himself from the commerce of men. He shut himself up so rigorously in his cell that he preferred, when he needed something, to use the ministry of his disciples rather than to go out to fetch it himself. He received only with regret those who came to visit him, and tried, as much as he could, to excuse himself from receiving them. Theophilus, Patriarch of Alexandria, went to see him with an officer and some o ther personages, and begged him to Théophile, patriarche d'Alexandrie Patriarch of Alexandria and opponent of John Chrysostom. say a word of edification. He remained for some time without answering, and then, taking the floor, he spoke to them thus: "If I tell you something, will you observe it?" They all replied that they were disposed to do so; and he added: "Well then, in whatever place you learn that Arsenius is, do not come looking for him there anymore."

This patriarch did not dare to interrupt his retreat since then; but as there was too much to be gained just by seeing him, he could not quite determine to go there no more. Wishing therefore to visit him another time, he sent to ask beforehand if he would open his door to him. Arsenius recognized too well what he owed to a bishop to refuse him; he replied to the deputy that he would open it if he came; and he added at the same time that in receiving him he would be obliged to receive others, which would finally force him to leave the place of his retreat and seek another elsewhere where he would be less disturbed. This being reported to Theophilus, he said that he preferred to deprive himself of seeing him than to force him thereby to abandon his cell.

It seems that the more he wanted to hide, the more it inspired in others the desire to come and see him, to profit from being near him; but, always attentive to practicing the lesson he had received from heaven, he was firm in receiving only those visits where he could profit for himself, or which he knew God found agreeable. A solitary came to knock at his cell, and the Saint, believing it was his disciple, opened to him immediately; but, seeing that it was not him, he threw his face to the ground and told this solitary, who was begging him to get up, that he would only do so after he had withdrawn: which he did. It also happened that other solitaries, having left Alexandria in order to go buy linen in the Thebaid for their work, passed by the vicinity of his cell and said among themselves: "Since we have the favorable opportunity to see Abbot Arsenius, we must take advantage of it," and they ran to his cell. His disciple inquired of them the subject of their arrival, and reported it to him. But he said to him: "Exercise hospitality toward them, and tell them to excuse me if I do not see them, and let me contemplate heaven."

Being obliged another time to receive other solitaries, they begged him to tell them something edifying about those who, like him, loved so much to be alone and only received the visits of others with great difficulty. "As long as a girl," he answered them, "remains shut up in her father's house, she is held in high esteem; but if she goes out into the open, one ceases to consider her as one did before. It is the same with the things of the soul: if one exposes them to everyone, everyone judges them according to their own fancy, and most do not value them at all."

God showed in one encounter, in a very marked way, that the conduct of Arsenius was directed by His Holy Spirit. A solitary, attracted by his reputation, came expressly to Scetis to see him, and begged some brothers, who served the church of this desert, to lead him to his cell. They invited him to rest and to take some food first, because the cell was very remote; but he protested that he would not eat until he had had the happiness of seeing him; upon which one of them offered to lead him there. Having entered, they greeted him with respect, prayed, and sat with him, hoping that he would give them some salutary advice; but he remained always in deep silence. After they had waited some time in this way, the solitary who had brought the stranger said: "I am going to leave you in liberty," thinking that Arsenius would speak to him more easily one-on-one; but the stranger, astonished by his silence, did not want to stay any longer and told his guide that he was also leaving with him. When they had left the cell, he said to him: "Lead me, I pray you, to Abbot Moses." This was that famous solitary who had been, before his conversion, the leader of a band of thieves. The latter received them very differently from Saint Ars abbé Moïse Solitary famous for his hospitality, compared to Arsenius. enius; for he showed them much charity and gave them something to eat. When they had withdrawn, the solitary who had led the other said to him: "You have therefore seen these two great personages; tell me now which of the two you esteem more?" — "It is," he replied, "the one who received us so well and who treated us so well." This having been reported to the other solitaries, an elder began to pray and asked the Lord to make him know why Arsenius, out of the love he bore Him, fled the company of men with such care, whereas, by an effect of the same love, Moses received everyone so well. Upon which, having fallen into ecstasy, God showed him two boats sailing on the Nile, in one of which was Abbot Arsenius, led by the Holy Spirit, in great rest and in great silence; and in the other was Abbot Moses, led by the angels of God, who were filling his mouth with honey.

One of the reasons for which he avoided the conversation of others is that he always feared committing some fault in it. This is what made him say that he had often repented of having spoken, but that he had never repented of having kept silent. Admirable instruction, very proper to make us understand how difficult it is to speak without wounding the conscience, and how silence is proper to preserve it in its purity. Thus, the excellent author of the book of the Imitation of Jesus Christ did not fail to collect it, as one of the most important that one can give to those who aspire to the interior life.

Abbot Daniel, L'abbé Daniel Principal disciple and eyewitness to the life of Arsenius. who could speak of him as an eyewitness, having had the happiness of being his disciple, says that when he was in church, he would stand behind a pillar, either so as not to be distracted by external objects, or so that no one would see his face, which, indeed, appeared like that of an angel.

As much as this great Saint was faithful in keeping silence and retreat, so too did he taste the sweetness of a recollected life, and had an attraction for prayer and orison. One can say that he made them his delight; and there, his heart, detached from all sensible things, rose toward God with an admirable ardor, to lose itself in some way in His bosom through the sublimity of his contemplation. A brother, to whom God sometimes made known the wonders of His mercy in those whom He favored more particularly with His precious gifts, came to his cell, and looking through the window, he saw the Saint as if he were all on fire. It was the ardor with which his soul was holily inflamed in orison, which God wished to manifest to him through this prodigy. He then knocked at the door, and the Saint having opened it and seeing him all astonished, he asked him if he had been knocking for a long time and if he had seen anything; after which he spoke with him for a few moments and sent him away.

He spent entire nights in the exercise of orison; and Abbot Daniel recounted that on Saturdays, as the sun set behind him, when he prayed with his face turned to the East and his hands extended toward the sky, he continued to pray in this position until that star, rising the next day, struck his eyes with its rays, and only then would he sit down to take a little rest.

He said that a religious who truly wanted to know his passions and succeed effectively against them should be content to sleep one hour a day. The demon, however, did not cease to tempt him on this, as on other subjects. He even complained about it once to his disciples Alexander and Zoilus, and begged them to spend the night with him to observ e if he d Alexandre Disciple of Arsenius. id n ot le Zoïle Disciple of Arsenius. t himself be overcome by sleep. They did so and noticed only that in the morning, at daybreak, he had closed his eyes and breathed three or four times, so that they could not understand if he had truly dozed.

As he suffered nothing within himself that would distract him from the spirit of prayer and prevent his heart from rising to God with freedom, so he feared being distracted from without, by the slightest noise, from the attention to the presence of God, especially at the time of orison. Having found himself with other solitaries in a place near which there were many reeds, he heard a noise and asked the others what it was. They told him it was the wind blowing through the reeds. "I am astonished," he replied, "that you can accustom yourselves to this noise; for if a solitary remains seated in true rest, even the song of a bird will slightly disturb the peace and tranquility of his heart."

It was not only out of love for retreat that Saint Arsenius loved silence so much; he also kept it to hide himself more often from the snares of vanity. It is said, in the Lives of the Fathers, of him and of Theodore of Pherme, that they sovereignly detested vainglory, and that it was for this reason that Arsenius fled opportunities to speak, and that Theodore only did so by suffering extreme violence, as if he had been pierced with a dagger. By this principle of humility, he did not disdain to take counsel from others, while he was so well able to give it himself through the eminence of his knowledge, and especially of his experience in the gifts of God. He went one day to consult Saint Pemen regarding his disciple, whom he brought to him, because he always showed a sensible pleasure in hearing him speak of the things of God; and Saint Pemen replied tha saint Pemen Desert Father consulted by Arsenius. t he should attach himself mainly to instructing him by his examples, rather than by his discourses.

Saint Theodore the Studite also reports that this great Saint, communicating his thoughts to a solitary of Egypt who was very advanced in age but little instructed in human letters, another who happened to be there said to him afterward: "Abbot Arsenius, how, being as profound as you are in Greek and Latin sciences, do you consult this good, rustic, and ignorant old man?" To which he replied: "It is true that I am well-versed in the sciences of which you speak; but I have not yet managed to know the alphabet of this old man, whom you regard as a rustic." Upon which Saint Theodore makes this beautiful reflection: "This holy man," he says, "wished to let us understand, by this, that if we do not study, through a sincere humility, to learn this alphabet, in preference to any other science, even if we had acquired sublime knowledge elsewhere, we will be, in truth, only rustics and ignorant people."

Saint Arsenius, equally distinguished by the eminent post he had occupied at court and by the brilliance of the virtues with which he shone in his desert, deserved to be sovereignly respected by all the solitaries, and he was; but his humility could not suffer it and wanted no distinction. This appeared especially in the occasion we are about to relate. Some people brought dried figs to distribute to the solitaries of Scetis; but, as there were few, the Fathers who distributed them did not dare, out of respect, to send him any, fearing that it would be an insult to him rather than a gift to give him so little. He found out, and did not want to go to church as he did before, saying to the Fathers: "Have you then excommunicated me, by not sharing with me the largesse that God has given us, because indeed I am not worthy of it?" Upon which the priest brought him some, and then took him to the church very satisfied; which was for the solitaries, who admired his humility, a great subject of edification.

One can also look at the extreme poverty to which he had reduced himself as an effect of his humility as much as of the detachment of his heart. It was said of him that, just as there was no one at court, when he was there, who was dressed more magnificently, so there was no one, in all the desert of Scetis, who had a worse robe. Having fallen ill, he found himself in such great need that, needing some linen, he did not have the means to buy it, although it required only a little money. He received it as alms, and then said: "I give thanks to You, O my God, that You have made me worthy to need to receive alms in Your name."

Saint Theodore the Studite and Abbot Daniel said of our Saint that an officer of the emperor having brought him the will that one of his relatives, of the order of senators, had made in his favor, by which he left him a very rich inheritance, he wanted to tear it up at once, so that there would be no more talk of it; but the officer threw himself at his feet and begged him not to do so, because his head was at stake. Upon which Saint Arsenius said to him: "How could he have made me his heir, having died only recently, while I myself have been dead for a long time?" Thus he sent him away with the will, without accepting anything from this inheritance.

It was no small penance for Saint Arsenius to live in such a great stripping away of all things, and to have reduced himself to an entire deprivation of all the comforts of life, after having enjoyed at court all those that opulence procures. But this great Saint, in leaving the world, had attached himself to mortifying himself in all the things where he believed he had followed the satisfaction of the senses. Thus he mortified the itch to appear, so natural to people of wit, by rigorous retreat and by this silence which he almost never interrupted. He mortified the love of ease and bodily comforts by the lack of everything and this perfect evangelical poverty to which he had reduced himself. He mortified the love of rest by the continuous vigils of which we have spoken. He mortified pride by fleeing everything that could make him esteemed by men and the generous contempt of all worldly glory. The authors of his Life also mark for us two types of mortification that he practiced, and which show in him the zeal that the desire to die to everything and to immolate oneself to God through penance inspires in a heart penetrated by this virtue.

Abbot Daniel said that when he made baskets, which was his ordinary work, and the water in which he soaked the palm leaves became corrupt, he did not want it to be renewed; but he was content to put fresh water on top, so that it would continue to smell bad, and he only changed it once a year. Some solitaries represented to him on this that this infected water gave a bad odor in his cell and could only inconvenience him greatly; but he gave them this beautiful answer: "I used excellent perfumes only too much when I was in the world; it is only right that now I suffer this bad odor to repair this sensuality that I followed, so that by supporting it with patience God may deliver me, on the day of judgment, from the unbearable stench of hell and that I may not be condemned with that rich man who had lived in luxury and good cheer."

His abstinence was such that his disciples confessed that they did not know what he lived on; for, said Abbot Daniel, during the several years that we were with him, we only gave him a small measure every year, and yet not only was it enough for him, but he even gave us some every time we went to see him. He did not eat fruit either, except when it was overripe. He then prayed, to avoid singularity, that some be brought to him, and was content to taste a little.

Whatever attraction he had for orison and contemplation, he did not fail to work with his hands until the hour of Sext; but this work did not interrupt his recollection and his interior union with God. He was, on the contrary, so penetrated by His divine presence that he never lost sight of it and was obliged to always hold a handkerchief to wipe the tears that flowed from his eyes, even while working. God had granted him the precious gift in such great abundance that they caused the hair of his eyelids to fall out. These tears came both from the regret for his past faults and from the ardent desire with which he sighed after the blessed eternity. The memory of death, which he also had almost constantly present, provided him with the subject for them as well; for, although he aspired after the heavenly homeland by the vehemence of his love, the severity of the judgments of God inspired in him an equal holy fear; which made Theophilus, Patriarch of Alexandria, say when he was near death: "O Abbot Arsenius, how happy you are to have always had this formidable moment in your mind!"

An elder also reported of him that he examined himself twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, whether he had faithfully observed what God wanted of him, or if he had failed to follow His will in something, and that he had thus spent his life in the continuous exercise of a rigorous judgment toward himself and a habitual sentiment of penance; which every good solitary should do by his example.

But it was not only through the temptation of evil spirits that God tested Saint Arsenius. Scarcely had he retired into the desert when he was troubled by the incursion of the Moors and forced to flee for some time, like many others. These peoples were from Libya; Cassian speaks of them in these terms: "It is," he says, "the most cruel and barbaric nation. It finds a singular pleasure in exercising its cruelties. It is not the greed for booty that leads it to shed human blood, like other barbarian nations; it is the inclination it naturally has to do evil." In this incursion, which occurred around the year 395, they killed several solitaries of Scetis. Saint Arsenius escaped their fury with those who were able to flee. We do not know where he retreated then. It was perhaps to Troe, otherwise called Petra, or the Rock of T roe, Troé Place of refuge and death of Saint Arsenius. near Memphis, from where he went to Canopus; but he did not stay there long, for th Canope Temporary place of residence for Arsenius in Egypt. e barbarians having withdrawn, he returned to Scetis. It appears that, during this first stay at Troe and Canopus, he received the visit of some solitaries and the uncle of Timothy, Patriarch of Alexandria. Perhaps it was also at the same time that a Roman lady, attracted by the reputation of his holiness, came expressly from Rome to see him. We will report this story here; but we do not assert that it happened at Canopus during the first departure of the Saint, on the occasion of the incursion of the Moors, or if it was in his desert itself, when he had returned there.

This lady, very rich and very pious, hearing of his eminent virtue, wished to witness it herself. She left Rome and came to Canopus, from where she went to Alexandria to the Patriarch Theophilus, to beg him to obtain from the Saint that he permit her to go see him. The Patriarch, who received her with great politeness, took charge of the commission, and, having gone to his cell, said to him: "My Father, a Roman lady of great piety and very distinguished rank has recently arrived, and has undertaken this long journey, pressed by the desire to be edified by seeing you, and to receive your blessing. I pray you therefore not to refuse her this grace and to be willing to travel part of the way to facilitate this consolation for her."

Whatever respect Saint Arsenius had for the Patriarch, he could not resolve himself to what he demanded of him. He fled from men with such care to answer the designs of God, how much more reason did he have to avoid the sight of women, so as not to give a foothold to the enemy of salvation? Thus Theophilus, being unable to gain anything from his resolution, returned the answer to this woman, who, far from losing courage, did on the contrary have her horses saddled, and set out on the road, saying: "I have confidence in God, and I hope that He will grant me the grace to see him, since it is not the desire to see a man that made me undertake such a long journey, but only the desire to see a Prophet."

As she approached his cell, she met him outside, walking, and immediately threw herself at his feet, her face inclined to the ground. The Saint raised her up and said to her with a severe air: "If it is my face that you desire to see, here I am, look at me." She was so surprised by these first words that she did not dare to raise her eyes; and the Saint continued thus: "If you had been told some good of me that could edify you, you should have been content to think of it within yourself, without undertaking, to come see me, to cross such a long expanse of sea. Do you not know that a woman must live retired in her house? And have you come here in order to glorify yourself upon your return for having seen Arsenius, and to inspire thereby other women with the desire to also cross the sea to come see me?" She replied to these reproaches: "I leave it to the will of God to prevent others from coming; but I humbly ask you to pray for me and not to forget me." — "On the contrary," the Saint said to her, "I pray the Lord that He entirely erase your memory from my heart." These last words afflicted her extremely. Fever took her when she was back in Alexandria, and the Archbishop having come to see her to learn from her the outcome of her visit, she reported to him above all the last words of the Saint, adding that they would make her die of grief. The prelate consoled her by explaining their true meaning. "Do you not know," he said to her, "that you are a woman, and that women are the instrument that the demon often uses to fight men? It is for this reason that Abbot Arsenius told you that he wanted to erase your face from his heart; but, as for your soul, do not doubt for a moment that he prays for it." These words relieved her of her affliction, and she returned to Italy, very satisfied with her journey.

The Moors made a second incursion into the desert of Scetis, around the year 434, and Arsenius was forced to flee a second time to avoid falling into their hands. He had been living in this desert for forty years. Upon leaving, he shed tears and said: "The too great multitude of people caused the ruin of Rome, and the too great multitude of monks caused that of Scetis."

The place that the Saint chose for his retreat was Troe, as he had done the first time. He remained ten years in this place, after which another incursion of the barbarians forced him to withdraw to Canopus, where he spent another three years. He then resolved to abandon his cell without taking anything with him, and even to separate from Alexander and Zoilus, his two disciples, to live more solitary than ever. He told the first to take a ship and withdraw, and Zoilus to accompany him to the river to find him a boat that would take him to Alexandria, and that after that he would go to join his brother, that is to say, Alexander, his disciple. They were equally surprised by this order, being almost unable to console themselves for his separation, and they asked each other if they had displeased him in anything, or if they had failed in obedience; which they did not, however, have to reproach themselves for. They obeyed nevertheless without replying, and withdrew to the Rock of Troe. As for the Saint, he went to Alexandria, where he fell dangerously ill.

It was not his last hour, and he recovered insensibly from his illness. His disciples, who inquired about him on every occasion they had, learned of his situation with pain and did not dare to go see him for fear of failing his orders and causing him distress; but when he was completely recovered, he determined of his own accord to come join them at Troe, where he knew they were, saying: "I will go join my fathers now"; for that is how he called them out of honor.

It was there that, two years later, he happily finished his course. As he saw that his end was approaching, he told his disciples, among whom was Daniel, not to trouble themselves with having anything to give as alms after his death; which showed how poor he was; but that it was enough to remember him at the holy sacrifice: "If I have done any good work in my life," he added, "I shall find it before God." These words, which announced his death as imminent, afflicted and troubled them greatly. He wished to soften them and said: "My hour has not yet come, I will warn you as soon as it arrives; but I must tell you that I do not want you to give any part of my body to be kept as relics, and if you do so, I will make myself your accuser at the tribunal of God, where you will appear as I do." This great Saint, who had wanted to hide all his life, also wanted, through a sentiment of the deepest humility and a holy love for the hidden life, to be forgotten after his death.

His disciples said to him thereupon: "What shall we do then, our Father? We do not know how to prepare and how to bury the dead." — "Alas!" he replied, "do you not know how to tie a rope to my feet and drag me thus to the mountain?"

Finally, as he was about to give up his spirit, he began to weep; which is not surprising in the greatest Saints, who, having been penetrated by a more vivid fear of the Lord during their lives by the lights they had of his holiness, have often dreaded appearing before him, without losing the desire to possess him and the hope in his mercy. Nevertheless, his disciples, who had been witnesses of his entirely heavenly life, were surprised. "Why, my Father, do you weep?" they said to him; "do you fear death like others?" — "Yes, undoubtedly," he replied, "and this fear has never left me since I became a solitary."

It was in these sentiments of humility that he rendered his soul to the Lord, enriched with virtues and merits; being ninety-five years old, of which he had spent forty in the world, as many at Scetis, ten at Troe, three at Canopus or Alexandria, and two more at Troe; so that he may have died in 449 or 450, according to the chronology of the continuators of Bollandus, which we follow here as the most reliable. Surius, Gazaeus, and others make him live until one hundred and twenty years; but they are mistaken.

Saint Pemen, having learned the news of his death, exclaimed while shedding tears: "How happy you are, O Arsenius, to have wept so much for yourself while you lived, since those who do not weep in this life will weep eternally in the other; for it is necessary, either that by a voluntary penance we weep here below, or that we weep fruitlessly when we are dead, through the torments that we shall suffer."

His disciples took care of his burial, and Abbot Daniel said that the Saint left him his leather tunic, his white hair shirt, and his palm-leaf sandals, and he put them on with respectful devotion, to participate in his blessing.

Let us now make known through a few examples the spiritual doctrine of this great Saint. It was the custom of the solitaries of Scetis to assemble often to speak of spiritual things, and to animate one another, through holy conferences, for the combat against vices and the practice of virtues. A short discourse is reported in this regard that Saint Arsenius gave in one of these assemblies, on the different artifices that the demon uses to deceive the solitaries, and on the means to discover and avoid them.

"You know, my Fathers and my Brothers, that men do not ordinarily act blindly; but that they have motives that make them act, and that they propose to themselves an end. We have experienced this ourselves when we left the world. It was only to acquire purity of heart, and to acquire thereby our sanctification. We must therefore work ceaselessly at this purification of ourselves, not only externally, but also within our interior; which is more difficult and requires a greater labor, because the combat of the passions is stronger and it costs more to win the victory over them. Many have succeeded in taming their flesh through fasts and other macerations, so that it does not make them feel its revolts as much; but they have not equally applied themselves to taming the evil affections of their soul; and one can say of them that they have only half-purified themselves. They have put all their care into depriving themselves of the satisfactions of the external senses and avoiding falling into gross vices, which is very praiseworthy, no doubt, and very necessary; but they have not worked to destroy the secret vices of the heart, such as envy, the love of vainglory, presumption, the desire for riches, and pride, which is the capital vice. One can compare these solitaries to statues that shine on the outside with the brilliance of gold and bronze, and which contain within only filth or a vile substance. It is not enough, therefore, to reform the exterior man in us, if we wish to attain an entire purity of heart; it is these interior vices that must be principally attacked and striven to be destroyed.

"You must also not be ignorant, my Brothers, that the demon employs all sorts of artifices to seduce us; and that one of the most dangerous, and which succeeds best for him with many, is to present to them the appearances of a good, to lead them then more easily to evil. It is thus that he inspires, for example, in some the love of hospitality, to lead them, by treating well those who come to see them, to intemperance of the mouth. It seemed to them at first that they only proposed to exercise charity, and by eating with their guests they became accustomed to gluttony, and finally to other vices of which it is ordinarily the cause. Likewise, he has suggested to others the thought of amassing money to give alms; and by means of this thought, he has made slide into their heart that fatal greed for the goods of the earth that avarice causes.

"He has also deceived others, under the pretext of the spiritual good of their neighbor, making them believe that by staying retired in their cells they were making themselves useless, and that they should rather show themselves for the advantage of others. Thus, by listening to this suggestion, they left their retreat, they engaged in conversations with people of the world, even with women; and relying too much on the virtue they believed they had acquired, as if they no longer had anything to fear from themselves and were out of reach of temptation, they exposed themselves rashly to occasions and finally made fatal falls.

"Here is another of the most dangerous traps of this enemy of our souls. He sometimes leaves solitaries without tempting them for a certain time; and then, believing themselves exempt from vices, because they have no temptation to combat, they conceive sentiments of esteem for themselves, as if they were already perfect, and fall into the abyss of pride; or else, seeing no enemies against them, they cease to watch over themselves, as if they had nothing more to fear; they remain in inaction, they fall into negligence, they fall asleep, so to speak, in a false security; and while they think they are in safety, he comes suddenly to attack them by some violent temptation, and makes them succumb all the more easily, as it has been easier for him to surprise them, because they were less wary of his fury.

"Considering therefore, my Brothers, the wiles of the demon, and how he attacks us in so many different ways, which is not always easy to discover, we need great attention to ourselves, a continuous vigilance over our senses, and over what happens within us. We need a spirit of discernment and discretion; but above all things we need to pray ceaselessly to the Lord, so that He may enlighten us and not permit us to be deceived by the appearances of a good, which the evil spirit presents to us to better make us fall into sin. Thus let us be perpetually on our guard to discover from which side, when, and how the tempter comes to attack us."

Another said to him: "My Father, I am often tormented by the thought that, being able neither to fast nor to work, I should employ myself in visiting the sick; I will at least perform an act of charity thereby." — "No," said the Saint to him, who understood that it was a temptation of the demon to lead him to leave his retreat; "go away, eat, drink, sleep, do not work, I only recommend that you do not leave your cell." Now, he knew, in giving him this advice, says the one who collected his sentences, that a religious who faithfully keeps his cell with patience soon returns to the observance of the other rules of his state. He also said that, just as a brick that is not well fired dissolves when one puts it in water, whereas it hardens more when it is sufficiently fired, so a religious who is not well established and lacks fervor easily succumbs to temptation.

The principal disciples of Saint Arsenius, Zoilus, Alexander, and Daniel, were all three from Pharan, in Arabia. It is for this reason that Daniel is sometimes surnamed the Pharanite in the Collection of the Remarkable Actions and Sayings of the Fathers of the Solitude.

Alexander was very exact in the laborious practices of religion, and he excelled in gentleness and obedience. It is for this reason that Saint Agathon loved him singularly.

Abbot Daniel only came under the guidance of Saint Arsenius after Alexander and Zoilus; for he calls them his Fathers. It is from him that we have learned several particularities of the life of this great Saint. Also, he had so well profited from his instructions that he was in a state to give them to others.

One could paint Saint Arsenius shedding tears, because it was a gift he had received from heaven; or buried stubbornly in reading and meditation, despite the visits that one pretended to pay him and which he suffered with such pain.

We have drawn this biography, by abridging it, from the Lives of the Fathers of the Deserts of the East, by the Rev. Fr. Michel-Ange Marin Michel-Ange Marin Author of a work on the Desert Fathers. , of the Order of Minims.