Oration to Albianus

OF OUR HOLY FATHER NILUS THE ELDER, DISCOURSE TO ALBIANUS

Let those who are curious about exquisite refinements seek out the metals of what are called precious stones and gold-bearing veins; and then let them take pleasure and look about them magnificently, when they are delighted by the stream of these materials, something delicate and sweet to the sight, with their various...

PETRI POSSINI NOTES

(50) *Of our holy father, etc.* In the manuscripts of the most illustrious Archbishop of Toulouse, it was only: *The discourse of our holy father Nilus to Albianus.* We have restored this to the customary usage of the Greeks. Furthermore, that this production is a genuine work of St. Nilus, the title would proclaim, were it silent; the style would proclaim it, as would many twin passages that possess undoubted characters of its authenticity. Yet it is a matter of wonder that neither Nicephorus, nor Photius, nor indeed anyone else among the ancients or moderns whom I know, who might have described the indices of the works of St. Nilus, makes mention of this oration. What I shall add pertains also to the title of the previous work. This Nilus is called "the Elder," in distinction to another man of the same name, a most holy man, who flourished in Italy around the year of Christ 1100, in profession, study, virtues, and deeds, an emulator of the previous Nilus, not in name alone. Hence, he was deservedly called "Nilus the Younger" by perpetual comparison to this elder one of ours. The history of his life, most worthy to be read, has recently been brought to light and published in Latin by the most illustrious D. Joannes Caryophyllus, Archbishop of Iconium.

(51) *To Albianus.* He was known to few, and moreover had very little commerce with the dealings of men; hence it is no wonder if the memory of this name and person remains meager and rare in the monuments of antiquity. For, as this Nilus of ours himself testifies, he cared solely to live in concealment. I believe, however, that I have found some mention of this man in Heraclides’ *Paradise*, in which book, in the chapter concerning Abbot John—he who was famous for the gift of prophecy in the time of Theodosius the Elder—the author provides a narrative; he testifies that in the solitude of Nitria he had as companions Evagrius, Ammonius, and Albinus. This same person is called Albanus elsewhere, in chapter 16 of the same book, where it is noted in the margin that he whom others call Albanus is named Albinus by Palladius. But our Nilus reconciles them, while calling him Albianus. This is our suspicion, and one not improbable, I believe: for the time matches wonders. For if this Albianus flourished in the time of Abbot John and Theodosius the Elder, as our conjecture holds, Nilus—who is certain to have flourished under Theodosius the Younger and Marcian—could indeed have known his deeds in recent memory and described them. What of the place? How does it fit? Our Nilus testifies below that his Albianus lived in the solitude of Nitria, which is the same as what Palladius and Heraclides relate of their Albinus or Albanus. These are the things we had: if they displease anyone, let him bring forward better ones for us to believe.

(52) *Something delicate and sweet to the sight.* For the word *lichnon* is not merely active, such that it sounds like voracious and gluttonous; but it is also passive, such that it signifies things that irritate the taste and stimulate the saliva; hence *lichneia* in Gregory of Nazianzus is transferred to the pleasures of other senses, and indeed of the mind. Lucian, in *How to Write History*, calls the delicacies of speech and more exquisite ornaments *lichneian*. The proverb *lichnotera ton porphyron* can also pertain here. For although it can be taken actively, and referred to the purple-fish, which is most voracious, nevertheless Erasmus observes that it can also be taken passively regarding the sweetness of the color of purple, so that, because that color delights the sight with a certain full bloom and vivid splendor, it is called *lichnon*, that is, *pellax* (alluring). In the same sense I think the Latin *delicatum* is used. Martial: "And let delicate purple cover you." Nor does the figure seem different by which the same Latins call certain colors "saturated" (saturi). Virgil, *Georgics* 4: "stained with a saturated hyaline color."

That the word *lichnon* is used here for "delicate" is demonstrated by a twin passage in a third narrative of this same Nilus: "The form of the boy, having something delicate (*lichnon*) and attractive." These things have been stated by me more carefully, because learned men, not having considered this, thought the passage should be corrected; and some were of the opinion that *sychnon* (much) *and sweet* should be substituted; others *sychnon ti kai hedy*, which is not at all necessary.

ORATION TO ALBIANUS

^A from the splendor of those many various garments and ornaments shining forth, might entice the eyes of those who behold them with the allurement of a pleasant sweetness. But let those who love God investigate the lives of holy men, and the virtues of those who have withdrawn from the world, and their striving to keep their right deeds hidden, so that they may imitate their conduct. For indeed it would be truly absurd and utterly senseless for men to have such great concern and zeal regarding those things which have brought such great ruin upon the human race—a ruin so great that no one could easily express it in words—so that the natural beauties bestowed upon the body are, when embellished and painted by them, made into lures of pleasure for the licentious, whose desires are spurred to a mad frenzy by the glitter of exquisite refinement; while, on the contrary, one should show such neglect and carelessness toward those things which have power to adorn the soul and correct the failings of life, as to despise noble things exactly as if we ought to despise those which are indifferent, or rather, those which are destructive. For what have stones, and gold, and all that other equipment prepared for vanity or soft living ever brought of good to human life? And what trouble and injury has it not dealt, having become the cause of all evils to all men? Because of these things come covetousness, robberies, tyrannies, thefts, murders; because of these things come looting and destructions, and wars both barbarian and civil, as people assail one another, spurred on by a greed for wealth, refusing neither to suffer anything nor to do anything, provided that the goal they have set for themselves is accomplished, whether by their own slaughter or by that of their enemies. For often, while the attackers are able to carry off none of the possessions, they themselves also perish in their soul ^B, dying miserably, having endured a most wretched end in the hope of an uncertain profit, and having reached the point of suffering exactly what they had been eager to inflict upon their enemies.

Hearing of the things which holy men have accomplished well while they lived, and a diligent learning of their excellent works, greatly profits those whom such meditation has exercised; it is like a lamp, by the light of which they may recognize and do those things which, though useful, they had until then been ignorant of. ^C For some will entirely emulate their virtue, conceiving a desire for it from such recollection, the soul being suddenly urged toward the good by a certain natural impulse. But others will at least admire it, even if a certain evil habit hinders their imitation; deriving from this at least the benefit of confessing their own misery, and understanding how far they are from the right path; and—which is no small matter for the sake of progress—they conceive some sense of the evils in which they lie; and they are no longer deceived by commending themselves as being in honorable states, which are in truth most shameful, as is the habit of some whose obstinacy has hardened against the sting of conscience, and who are no longer pricked by any goad of the sin which they commit, but remain secure through its rough and difficult paths, ^D and, having their conscience calloused like those [g] [/g] treading upon thorns and briars with their feet, they suffer none of the things they used to suffer before they became accustomed to the hardness—since their foot was tender and soft, and they would immediately perceive the prick of any chance injury.

For there is nothing among the hard things for the body, nor among the harmful things for the soul, that does not become light and tolerable through time and habit; it no longer producing a sense of difficulty as it did when it was once strange, and striking the body with toil and the conscience with grief, until a habit is formed in both, making sweet what once appeared difficult and disagreeable. Since, therefore, it is acknowledged to be right that the upright deeds of the holy ones should not be passed over in silence, and that those things should not be hidden which, when manifested, bring great profit to life, teaching an angelic way of life and making the earth a heaven for those who lead a pure and untroubled existence, all being eager to benefit one another, and no one enduring to wrong anyone because they have been convinced that all matter remaining here is vain, and that one should have a burning appetite ^B for those things that are being translated to the future and are of great use there—come, let us bring into the midst the man who until now has hidden himself from many, since he has always been eager to escape observation, like a fawn immersed in the desert of Nitria [(55)], fearing the assaults of life as if they were lightning bolts falling from the sky, and even more than these, fearing the things that wrong the soul—the soul that does not guard itself and flee from such encounters—let us bring forth a blessed man and make him known, so that he may not escape those who are fit to be benefited by his example, insofar as he himself, being God-fearing, strove to hide these things from men, not out of any envy of imitation, nor desiring to glory alone in the possession of virtues, but fleeing from ostentation as something treacherous, and capable of harming even when it appears to be undertaken for the ^C utility of others.

This man was a sprout of the land of the Galatians, and a nursling of the city of Ancyra. He spent the flower of his youth in every manner of chastity, although, on account of the outstanding beauty of his form, he was frequently troubled by the importunate desires of many, so that his modesty and gravity were a cause of admiration even to them; by this very virginal modesty, even more than by the beauty of his countenance, he kindled them into a more burning desire, ^D while he despised them, and not even [alt-version omitted]

^A deigning to notice them with any word at all. Nor is it, in truth, a matter of the same praise to practice chastity when there is no one who provokes one to the contrary, as it is to do the same when hundreds of allurements from all sides are tickling the desire; for it is neither the same level of wisdom for a helmsman, whose ship is tossed by a storm, to keep it from shipwreck with steady providence—remaining himself entirely unperturbed by the gale—as it is for one who has already brought the ship into port to sit at the stern and handle the rudder in play. For the former is a testing of his skill in a time of danger and gravity; but the latter is to show off the appearance of a skilled helmsman when there is no necessity at hand, leaving those who see him in doubt as to whether that skill is truly in the matter itself, or if, on the contrary, he is acting only to hide his lack of skill behind a pretense of profession, so as to deceive spectators into thinking he is experienced and wise, while he is in all other respects entirely devoid of such ability.

For this reason, they tried to ensnare him in many ways, even while he was still a youth, and not yet of an age suitable for ecclesiastical ministry, considering it a loss ^B if the common order of the ecclesiastical profession were not distinguished by such an ornament, especially one born among them and their own compatriot. For they saw that if he were once enrolled in the body of the ecclesiastical order, he would be like the pupil of the eye, or an eye in the face; since he shone with the gravity of his life, and would present himself as a most useful example both to the wise and to the multitude, representing even then—in his youthful and flourishing body—a standard and composed demeanor, and a constancy of modesty perfected for that state, with all the severity of age. And they, being many, thought that by pressing upon the one, they would easily draw the youth where they wished, as they lifted the dignity of the priesthood—by which the sacrifice of righteousness is offered—to the heavens with immense praises. ^C But he could not be conquered, nor did he allow himself to be so carried away by such an inept reverence toward his elders that he could endure to admit anything against his own mind: considering it a great matter, and, as in truth it was, something greater than the capacity of his tender age.

He fled both the tumult of civic affairs and the anxiety of ecclesiastical administration, avoiding the burden of the yoke placed upon him. And even then, he was in spirit and desire carried toward the desert; but he held that impulse in check, determining with sound counsel that it was far better to meditate on the first contests of virtue among some who might serve, as it were, as tutors and trainers for those in charge of the training of the raw/novice, rather than to thrust himself—unsubdued by any preliminary wrestling-ground—all of a sudden upon the masters of more perfect disciplines, and to cause them labor by compelling them to teach the things of children instead of the lessons provided to men, and to descend from their own established state ^D to a childish exercise, neither fitting in words and deeds nor becoming to such men, but rather accommodated to the tenderness of a weaker age.

^A When, therefore, he had betaken himself to those who, not far from the city, practiced the religious life upon the mountain—over whom presided the blessed Leontius, at that time a presbyter, but later becoming a bishop, a man illustrious for the praise of both lives, I mean the active and the contemplative, more perfect indeed than those who were living in the deserts, yet one who knew how to endure the immaturity of the weak, and was experienced in training the minds of beginners because he always had those who had already made progress mixed in with those under his care—having made progress faster than the time he spent there allowed, and having left many behind, and having accomplished more than the season gave him to accomplish, he left the work of asceticism and moved to the region of Jerusalem, both for the study of the places in which the Lord Jesus performed His wonderful works, lived His life, and subsequently suffered, and for the sake of the benefit to be gained from the sight of the men practicing asceticism there. Benefited by these, or rather, not to say it briefly, having surpassed them, he betook himself to the aforementioned desert, zealously concealing his priestly ^B dignity, as far as he could remain unnoticed, and undertook the solitary life as one just beginning, having used such teachers of virtue, who immediately fanned his desire for heaven and attached his longing to the angelic conduct, and made him long-lived in the restraint of all things. ^C Concerning the angelic Leontius, the most holy president of the Church of the Caesareans, for whom many, even before the presence of the synod in Nicaea, shed sweats for the sake of the faith. Many, too, through him, martyrs and victors, threw down the adversary; and many, having used the doctrine of his life, became citizens of heaven, etc. ^D

^A Since that which is lacking in nothing pertains only to incorporeal natures, and those who are bound to flesh cannot live without the necessary need of food, which must be supplied daily to that which is labored and worn down, he despised all things on earth together and became, all at once, entirely of the philosophy from above. He judged not only the things surrounding the body, but even the body itself to be superfluous to the goal for one who cares for the soul and hastens to present it to God. Thus, he took thought for the flesh only so much as the necessity for sustaining life compelled him. He spent all his time in the care of how he might always please God; with what thoughts and with what deeds the twofold man is adorned; so that the mouth might interpret the inward purity with serious and useful words, drawing the hearers toward piety, and the body, by composed movement, might teach those who saw its orderliness. ^B This man, therefore, even after his death, is admired by those in that place until now, and his glorious reputation is sung; how he always restrained both tongue and ear from secular narrative, not enduring either to say anything of what happened in the world, or ever to hear it, saying that all things are inopportune and useless which do not contribute to the proposed goal. For if, he says, each art and profession is cared for by those who practice it, and is improved daily by words and thoughts (for meditation causes one to know something more in everything, and exercise becomes a benefactor of things not yet known), why do we not spend all our leisure on the care of our own art? If anyone should wish—since the peak is incomprehensible—to gain even enough experience to reach a moderate level, he has no time to turn his mind to anything else, as life is barely enough, I do not say to consider the preparation for the future, but even to guard against the assault of present things. ^C For as the eye of a helmsman is entirely intent and fixed upon the surging waves, and even a slight distraction of the mind perhaps causes a shipwreck, so the mind struggling against passions and evil spirits, if it be sober and watchful, is rarely deceived by the snares of the enemy; but if it relaxes somewhat from the highest attention, it is immediately swept into the deep and submerged. ^D Whence he could always be seen sitting, even in deep meditation, showing by the form of his countenance that he truly forced himself to care only for those things that please God.

^A His mind was caught up in the contemplation of heavenly things, absorbed therein, or else he was scrutinizing himself on every side, lest anything fitting should be wanting to him. But his hands were occupied with the work ^B of providing for the needs of the body. For he could never be brought to give the body, when it was idle, food that was obtained gratuitously, nor did he ever admit what was offered by the liberality of others; indeed, he had hardened his mind to accept consolation from no one, since he used to say to anyone practicing this way of life that it is more honorable to give than to receive. Lest, if he acted otherwise, he should cut the sinews of his freedom, and be compelled at times to accommodate his speech to the desires of those from whom he received, and to suppress the truth by a servile silence, when it might happen to be biting and ungrateful, lest he return annoyance for a benefit.

How great and what kind of need of the body had he, that he might also make his lack of occupation great? His food was plain bread, and not even that to the point of satiety; his drink was water, cold indeed in the heat, but warmed by the sun when a colder storm demanded it. His garment was an aged patch-work cloak, equal in age to the memory of his dwell- ^C ing there; and in all that time it was never changed. He did not tread with sandal or shoe upon his foot, sewing for himself occasional slippers out of palm, and a pouch or a skin of goatskin for a bed-covering when he turned to sleep, by which he might briefly relax his little body, broken by the strain of assiduous work, from his daily labors. For he spent the greater part of the night, as well as the day, in chanting and praying, reckoning that in those times he was conversing with God; and he was continually repeating with David: *My discourse shall be pleasing to Him.* He did not know Caesar’s coin, nor with what stamp it was marked; nor did any bronze pass through his hand, polluting it with a single touch. All his wealth was a single book, and this was useful for the consolation of weariness, as ^D [the reading] that is at hand for the comfort of acedia, so that it might even be a certain delight of reading amidst many labors, at once guiding the soul by its history and its theory, soothing the troubled spirit. And this poverty he called a kingdom, because of its freedom from care; not because he had no thought of the morrow, but because he had no desire for any of the things admired by the multitude. For he considered not the abundance of grain, but the lack of need, to be the wealth of a philosophy that aspires to contemplate.

^A Many one indeed might season that labor of reading, which partly by the narration of past events, partly by the consideration of higher things, might wipe away the sadness of a languishing soul. And this lack he called royal, on account of its security; nor did he truly take care only that he should store up nothing for the morrow, but especially that he might not be held by a love for even one of those things which the multitude is accustomed to admire. For he determined that those riches which true philosophy bestows upon a mind dedicated to itself do not consist in the abundance of things, but in the satiety of a soul that desires nothing—blessed, indeed, is he who is contented with his own lot in life, rejecting all other things as useless. Moreover, he taught that greed is to be extinguished not by accumulating wealth from every quarter, but by rejecting and despising it; and many others with him argue that the wealthiest of men are in reality poor, inasmuch as they need more than they enjoy, on account of the insatiable thirst of avarice; but they are truly rich who study even to defraud themselves and to withdraw something from what is necessary; which happens out of abundance, nor is it necessary for upholding the name of philosophy. ^B For these riches are indeed true Riches, and it is right that they should be so called; but that other thing is poverty and extreme mendicancy, since the former restrains the satiety of overflowing goods and, as it were, a redundant nausea; but the latter admits into the mind—always gaping with the greed of a thirsting avarice—new and precipitous impulses toward the possession of things it does not have, the possession of which is uncertain even if they are present. But the condemnation of avarice is doubtful to no one: rather, it is confessed by all that it, even if it be alone and has not proceeded to violence and injury, will plead its case before the Judge under a most severe law. For avarice is not only to snatch away the belongings of others, but also to wish to have more than what is sufficient. ^C Since this life is night, and all things that are done in it are a dream, as that blessed man said, what will that expense of sumptuous luxury profit men after they have passed from this state into another; when now those nocturnal specters will not show themselves, nor will they give us any sense of trouble or of joy? For, as he said, those who have awakened perceive that their dreams were vain as the day is already dawning; and he who dreamed that he had become wealthy has nothing left in the morning; and he who believed that he was drinking or eating finally understands that he has done neither; and he who had obtained a kingdom and had amassed money, and he who was holding silver in his hand or had stored it in his breast, finds himself empty at last: one was involved in great dangers through the dream, another was vexed, another oppressed, another evilly punished with blows, and another was even killed: and these indeed all rise up rejoicing, but those others [rise up] sad, since the things in which they had seemed to be involved were not reality, but merely a deceptive appearance. ^D Therefore, these rejoice as if they had escaped the sense of evils, but those grieve as if they were bereaved of the things in which they had rested. Nor does any fruit from that appearance remain for anyone, nor to him

^A who had it, does the possession of what he held in the night seem the same during the day. Only one memory remains of joyous or sad things, but of things which have all equally passed away—like phantoms toward the painful desire of pleasures from which they have been deprived, and of the joy from whose embrace they have been torn. So after this play of life, the stage having now been withdrawn, all these things are equally cold: riches and poverty, satiety and want, glory ^A and humility. Yet for some there remains joy, and for others horror and trembling, each receiving the just requital of the things they did in life. Therefore, let this man be considered altogether admirable and worthy of imitation by all who have either seen his noble deeds with their own eyes or heard of them. For he, having labored along the narrow way, has attained to life: passing through the troubles of life patiently as if they were a dream. But now he enjoys in that place where the enjoyment is constant and true, which renders eternal joy as the fruit of brief labors. In Christ Jesus our Lord, to whom be glory forever. Amen. ^B

Up to this point are the small works edited by Father Possinus; there follow those which Jos. Maria Suaresius brought to light at Rome in 1673, in folio, the title of whose edition the following page represents.

THE WORKS OF OUR HOLY FATHER NILUS, ABBOT

TRACTATES OR OPUSCULA OF OUR HOLY FATHER NILUS

TO THE MOST SERENE PRINCE REINALD D'ESTE.

MOST SERENE PRINCE,

Those who delve into the mysteries of nature are accustomed to inquire anxiously into the reasons why the Nile, the greatest of the rivers which were within the Roman Empire, overflows its banks at set times to inundate all of Egypt. Some think the Etesian winds blow and block the seven mouths, so that the waters do not flow into the sea, but are held back; others maintain that snows around its sources—at length discovered—melt in the scorching heat, and that the abundance of water, not being contained by the riverbed, spills out over the land. Most refer it to divine providence, because, since that region is never irrigated by rains due to the aridity of the air, God has provided that it should moisten and fertilize that dry, greening, black sand.

But students of the holy Fathers will inquire why, at this time, the works of the Abbot Nilus, who attained the summit of Greek eloquence in his age, emerge from being long hidden in the shelves of libraries. The cause is at hand. The Most Eminent Cardinal Francesco Barberini, Dean of the Holy College and Vice-Chancellor of the Holy Apostolic See, ^B looking to the public utility, did not wish them to lie hidden for so long, and commanded them to be published at his own press, and in Latin, as I translated them, with notes added. For, tireless, he thinks and labors day and night to renew the memory of the holy writers, to amplify the treasures of the Church, and so that a thousand shields may hang from his towers against her internal enemies. The Reverend Father Possinus published two of his unpublished works in Paris in the year 1639; soon the Epistles in the year 1657, and dedicated them to the same Most Eminent one, but they were soon edited in fuller form by the most famous man Leo Allatius, with that same Maecenas assisting as midwife, and inscribed to Your Highness, just as I now deservedly and willingly offer and dedicate these opuscula, with a stronger title, however: your most auspicious arrival in this city. Indeed, it follows a custom ^C drawn from the most ancient times, as I have observed in Homer and Virgil, that gifts are accustomed to be offered to princes arriving; and indeed, to strew flowers of arrival, which I learned from St. Gregory Nazianzen, was solemn. Therefore, to Your Highness, coming to this Epitome and mistress metropolis of the world, these "inflorescences" of Saint Nilus—that is, his florilegia, his opuscula—will not be ungrateful, for in this most flourishing age they will by no means displease.

That river Nile, which the Greeks (if there is any faith in Gellius) call *neilos*, when it overflows, promises all manner of happiness; its increase, according to Pliny, brings joy at fourteen cubits, security at fifteen, and luxury at sixteen. But these opuscula of the most pious and eloquent Abbot Nilus, as they rise to nineteen, presage all things most prosperous, piled up and accumulated. As for the Nile ^D...