ili, The narrative about Duke Balacius (§ 86: see note there) is another genuine difficulty, only to be got over if we suppose e7¢fer that Athanasius in one place tells the story inaccurately, and corrects himself in the other, ov that the Ast. Arian. was partly written for Athanasius by a secretary.
iv. Supposed learning of Antony. His ignorance of letters and of the Greek language does not prevent his forcibly employing the most effective arguments against Arianism (69), vindicating the Incarnation (74) much in the manner of Athanasius, and above all showing a fair acquaintance (72—74) with Platonic philosophy (see notes there). But everything in the biography points to a man of robust mind, retentive memory (3) and frequent ' intercourse with visitors. If he were so, he can scarcely have been ignorant of the theological controversies of his day, or of the current philosophical ideas. Nor can I see that the. philosophy of his argument against the Greeks goes beyond what that wouldimply. His allusion to Plato does not look like a first-hand citation. And even an Athanasius would not so entirely rise out of the biographical habits of his day as to mingle nothing of his own with the speeches of his hero (‘Equidem quid Antonio quid Athanasio tribuendum sit uix diiudicari posse concedo,’ Eich. p. 52).
c. Inconsistencies with Athanasius. It is the most serious objection to the Athanasian authorship of the Vata that Athanasius (with the exception of the ‘antilegomenon’ //ist. Ar. 14) nowhere else mentions Antony by name. Especially in the letter to Dracontius, who at first refused the Episcopate in the supposed interests of his soul, we might, it is argued, have expected a reference to the deep reverence of Antony (§ 67) for even the lowest clergy (the persons enumerated, Le¢ter 49, § 7, are bishops who had previously been monks, and have nothing to do with this question). That is true. We might have expected it. But as a matter of fact Athanasius uses another argument instead (see Letter 49, § 3, note 8*). It does not follow that he dd not know of the Antony of the Vita. But although the letter in question has been pressed unduly, the general objection, as an argumentum ex silentio on a rather large scale, remains3, Some more detailed points must now be considered, 3 It is fortified by the ‘silence of Eusebius’ (1) as to monks in general (but yet see 77. Z. II. 17, vol. 1, p. 116, note in this series) 5 (2) as to the part played by Antony at Alexandria during the persecution (4. &. VII. 32, VIII. 13, LX. 6); (3) as to Constantine's letter to Antony (§ 81), 192 VITA S. ANTONI.
a. Demons and Miracles. The writings of Athanasius are singularly free from the tendency to indulge in the marvellous. The death of Arius he regards as a judgment, and relates it with a certain awe-struck sobriety. The ¢yun of Julian’s death in the Varrat. ad Ammon. comes less under the head of ecclesiastical miracle than under that of ra dea rév mpnyndrev (Herod. ix. 100, cf. Grote v. 260 sq.); whereas the Vita swarms with miraculous and demoniacal stories, some (passed over in silence by Newman and other apologists for the Life) indescribably silly (e.g. $$ 53, 63). Hence even Cave allows that the /7z¢a contains things ‘tanto viro indigna.’ But it must be observed (1) that Antony disclaims, and his biographer disclaims for him, inherent miraculous power. His miracles are wrought by Christ In answer to prayer, and he prefers that those who desire his help should obtain what they want by praying for themselves (cf. also § 49). (2) That again and again (esp. §§ 16—43) he insists on the absolute subjection of all evil powers to God, and their powerlessness to injure believers in Christ. (3) That Athanasius recognises onpeia (in the sense of miracles, see Leffer 49, § 9, note 9) as a known phenomenon in the case both of bishops and of monks. (4) That his language about demons and the power of the sign of the Cross in dispersing them is quite of a piece with what is related in the Vita (see notes passim). (5) On the clairvoyance of Antony, and one or two kindred matters which offer points of contact with phenomena that have been recently the subject of careful research, notes will be found below giving modern references. On the whole, one could wish that Athanasius, who is in so many ways suprisingly in touch with the modern mind (swfra, introd. to de Zncar. and Prolegg. ch. iv. § 2 dand § 3), had not written a biography revealing such large credulity. Butwe must measure this credulity of his not by the evidential methods of our own day, but by those of his own. Ifwe compare the Va, not with our modern biographies but with those, say, of Paul and Hilarion by Jerome, its superiority is striking (this is pointed out by W. Israél in Zecéschr. fir Wiss. Theol. 1878, pp. 130, 137, 145, 153). For myself, I should certainly prefer to believe that Athanasius had not written many things in the Vita: but I would far rather he had written them all than the one passage Hist. Ar.
B. Zheology. That there should be certain characteristic differences from the theology of Athanasius is what one would expect in an account of Antony that bore any relation to the historical person. Such is the anthropomorphic tendency, shewn especially in the corporeal nature ascribed to demons. Such perhaps is a tinge of naive semi-pelagianism about the Hermit’s language (§ 20 and elsewhere); we cannot forget the connection of Cassian’s Collations with Egyptian monasticism. Once again, ‘Antony’s shame of the body is not in the spirit of the writer ad Amunem’ (Gwatkin, Studies, p. 102). Lastly, in Antony’s account of the heathen gods (§ 76) we miss the characteristic Euhemerism of Athanasius (see supra, pp. 10, 62, &c.). Throughout, in fact, the ruder monastic instinct crops up from under the Athanasian style and thought of the biographer. But the latter is also unmis- takeable (see the notes passim), and the differences have been certainly made too much of. [ will give one example from Mr. Gwatkin, who says (wbi supra), ‘Athanasius does not speak of mpdvoa like the Vite (c. 49, 66, 74), for de Fuga 25 specially refers to his providential escape from Syrianus, and c. Gent. 47, mpdvoa tv mévrey is very incidental.’ Now certainly the constant introduction of rpévo1a, which Mr. Gwatkin has understated, is a marked feature of the Vita. But I am not prepared to say that Athanasius could not speak in this way.
The word is common, and even characteristic, in his writings. A few examples will support this statement; more will be referred to in the index to this volume.
De Incarn. 2. 1. tiv trav doy rpdvotay Kab’ Eavtdy vdK elvat pooroyovow.
14. 6. rod dua rips (dias mpovoias...didSdoKevTos mept Tov Tatpés.
Epist. Aég. 15. 9 Bdrtmovres...mdvra ré€er Kal Tpovola kwovpera.
Apol. Fug. 17. fuehe yap adrois...pufre thy &pirpevny mapa ths Ipovoias xpiow mpodap- Rave (and so in §§ 9, 16, 22, 25 of this short tract).
Orat. ii. 37. ‘O Tarnp év T@ “Yi@ Tov TavTwY THY TpdvoLay ToLeirat, If each one of these and numberless other references to Providence is ‘ very incidental,’ those in the Via may surely claim the benefit (whatever that may be) of the same formula.
The above are the principal materials for a decision as to the genuineness of the Vita: and I do not see how they can justify any opinion but that stated at the outset. Against the Vz/a we have certain historical difficulties (intercourse with Athanasius, peregrini fratres, Balacius), and arguments ex silentio, a kind of evidence seldom conclusive. For it, we have a quite unusual array of external evidence, including an almost contemporary version, the absence of any room for its date at a safe distance from its traditional author, and the many points of contact, as well as the characteristic differences between the Vita and the writings of Athanasius. Moreover on the kindred question of the origin of monasticism, Weingarten’s VITA S. ANTONI. 193 gs ee ee eee ee theory breaks down, and leads him to suicidal steps in more than one direction. Although, therefore, it is permissible to keep an open mind on the subject, we must recognise that the enterprise of the recent assailants of the Via is at present at a dead halt, that overwhelming probability is against them.
tice Athanasius wrote the Viza, it does not follow that all its less edifying details are true, nor that its portraiture is free from subjectivity 4, At the same time, to the present writer at least, the lineaments of a genuine man, dpovoradods jyiv, stand out from the story. Doubtless there is idealisation, panegyric, an absence of sinfulness (Gwatkin, Studies, p. 100). But the moderate value set on miracles (38, 56), the absence of the element of fear from his religion (42, &c.), his serene courtesy (73) and uniform cheerfulness (67, 70), the caution against being tempted to excess in ascetic exercises (25), the ready half-humorous good sense (73, 85) of the man, are human touches which belong to flesh and blood, not to hagiographic imagination. But here the question is one of individual taste. At any rate the Vita embodies the best spirit of early monasticism. It was the pure desire to serve God and fulfil the spirit of the Gospel that led Antony to part with all that might make the world precious to him, and to betake himself to his long voluntary martyrdom of solitude, privation, and prayer. We see nothing but tenderness and love of men in his character, nothing of the fierce bloodthirsty fanaticism which in persons like Senuti made fifth-century monasticism a reproach to the Christian name. Had Antony lived in our time, he might have felt that the solitary life was a renunciation of the highest vocation of which man is capable, the ministry to the material and spiritual needs of others. But it is not given to man to see all aspects of truth at once; and to our bustling, comfort-loving age, even the life of Antony has its lesson.
The Vita has undoubtedly exercised a powerful and wide-spread influence. Upon it Jerome modelled his highly idealised tales of Paul and Hilarion; at Rome and all over the West it kindled the flame of monastic aspirations; it awoke in Augustine (Conf. viii. wb¢ supra) the resolution to renounce the world and give himself wholly to God. The zzgens numerus of Latin manuscripts, and the imitation of its details in countless monastic biographies, testify to its popularity in the middle ages. Like monasticism itself, its good influence was not without alloy; but on the whole we may claim for it that it tended to stimulate the nobler of the impulses which underlie the monastic life.
A few words may be added on the evidence of the Vita as to the form and motive of early monachism. In the Life of Antony, the stages are (1) ascetics living in the towns and villages, not withdrawn from society (§§ 3, 4); (2) solitary monasticism in the desert, away from human society; and, as the fame of Antony increases, (3) the formation (§ 44) of clusters of cells centering round some natural leader, the germ of the Aavpa (such as the community of Tabennz under Pachomius). Of organised monastic communities the Vita tells us nothing. With regard to the motive of the earliest monasticism, this has been variously sought in (1) the development of the ascetic element present in Christianity from the very first; (2) in the influence of the Alexandrian School, especially Origen, who again is influenced by the spirit of revolt against the body and detachment from the world which characterised neo-Platonism (see Bornemann’s work mentioned above); (3) in the persecutions, which drove Christians to the desert (Eus. H. Z. vi. 42), which some adopted as their home; (4) to the (not necessarily conscious) imitation of analogous heathen institutions, especially the societies of dyvetovres which were gathered round or in the temples of Serapis (Weingarten, #.Z., X. 779—785. Revillout, p. 480n, refers to Zoega, p. 542, for the fact that Pachomius himself was a monk of Serapis before his forced baptism by his Christian neighbours; and that after it he continued his ascetic life with no external difference. (5) To the desire to avoid civil obligations, already marked in the Rescript of Valens (Cod. 7%. xii. 1. 63, quidam ignauiz sectatores desertis civitatum muneribus, &c.). Of the above motives the Veta gives no support to any but the first, which it directly confirms, and perhaps indirectly to the second. ‘The date of the Vita depends mainly on the view to be taken of § 82, where see note 16.
4 The life of Senuti (or ‘Schnoudi’), by his disciple Visa, may be consulted in illustration of this point. See edition by Amélineau in vol. 4 of the Memoires de la Mission archéologique Frangaise au Caire, 1888.
VOL. IV. G LIFE OF ANTONY.
TABLE (OF CONTENTS.
PROLOGUE.
§§ 1, 2. Birth and beginnings of Antony.
§§ 3, 4. His early ascetic life.
§§ 5, 6. Early conflicts with the devil.
§ 7. Details of his life at this time (271—285?)
§§ 8—ro,. His life in the tombs, and combats with demons there.
§ 11. He goes to the desert and overcomes temptations on the way.
§§ 12, 13. How Antony took up his abode in a ruined fort across the Nile, and how he defeated the demons. His twenty years’ sojourn there.
§§ 14, 15. Howhe left the fort, and how monasticism began to flourish in Egypt. Antony its leader.
§§ 16—43. His address to monks, rendered from Coptic, exhorting them to perseverance, and encouraging them against the wiles of Satan.
§ 44. The growth of the monastic life at this time (about A.D. 305).
5. How Antony renewed his ascetic endeavours at this time.
6. How he sought martyrdom at Alexandria during the Persecution (311).
7. How he lived at this time.
8. How he delivered a woman from an evil spirit.
§§ 49, 50. How at this time he betook himself to his ‘ inner mountain.’
§§ 51—53. How he there combated the demons.
§ 54. Of the miraculous spring, and how he edified the monks of the ‘ outer’ mountain, and of Antony’s sister.
S$ 55,56. Tow humanely he counselled those who resorted to him.
§ 57. Of the case of Fronto, healed by faith and prayer.
§ 58. Of a certain virgin, and of Paphnutius the confessor.
§ 59. Ofthe two brethren, and how one perished of thirst.
§ 60. Of the death of Amun, and Antony’s vision thereof.
§§ 61, 62. Of Count Archelaus and the virgin Polycration.
§§ 63, 64. Strange tales of the casting out of demons.
§ 65. Of Antony’s vision concerning the forgiveness of his sins, § 66. Of the passage of souls, and how some were hindered of Satan.
§ 67. How Antony reverenced all ordained persons.
§ 68. How he rejected the schism of Meletius and the heresies of Manes and Arius.
§ 69. How he confuted the Arians.
§§ 70, 71. How he visited Alexandria, and healed and converted many, and how Athanasius escorted him from the city.
$$ 72—79. How he reasoned with divers Greeks and philosophers at the ‘outer’ mountain.
2 TM SR A 4 4 4 4 [f § 80. How he confuted the philosophers by healing certain vexed with demons.
§ 81. How the Emperors wrote to Antony, and of his answer.
§ 82. How he saw in a vision the present doings of the Arians.
S§ 83, 84. That his healings were done by Christ alone, through prayer.
§ 85. How wisely he answered a certain duke.
§ 86. Of the Duke Balacius, and how, warned by Antony, he met with a miserable end. § 87. How he bore the infirmities of the weak, and of his great benefits to all Egypt.
§ 88. Of his discernment, and how he was a counsellor to all.
§§ 89, 90. How, when now 105 years old, he counselled the monks, a § 91. Ofhis sickness and his last will. § 92. Of Antony’s death.
§ 93. How Antony remained hale until his death, and how the fame of him filled all the world nd gave advice concerning burial.
__ [Antony’s answers to a philosopher, and to Didymus, are given by Socrates IV. 23, 25: the following is from Hanmer’s translation of Socr. I. 21: ‘The same time lived A atoay the monk in the deserts of AXgypt. But inasmuch as Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria Ne lately set forth in a severall volume, intituled of his life, his manners and conversation how openly he buckled with divils, how he over-reached their sleights and subtle combats, Beart marvellous and strange miracles, I think it superfluous on my part to For the translation of the text I am indebted to my friend and coll 2 Ellershaw, jun. y mend and colleague the Rey. H.
rT ele Tue life and conversation of our holy Father, Antony: written and sent to the monks in foreign parts. by our Father among the Saints, Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria.
Athanasius‘ the bishop to the brethren in foreign parts.
You have entered upon a noble rivalry with the monks of Egypt by your determination either to equal or surpass them in your train- ing in the way of virtue. For by this time there are monasteries among you, and the name of monk receives public recognition. With reason, therefore, all men will approve this determina- tion, and in answer to your prayers God will give its fulfilment. Now since you asked me to give you an account of the blessed Antony’s way of life, and are wishful to learn how he began the discipline, who and what manner of man he was previous to this, how he closed his life, and whether the things told of him are true, that you also may bring your- selves to imitate him, I very readily accepted your behest, for to me also the bare recollec- tion of Antony is a great accession of help. And I know that you, when you have heard, apart from your admiration of the man, will be wishful to emulate his determination; seeing that for monks the life of Antony is a suffi- cient pattern of discipline. Wherefore do not refuse credence to what you have heard from those who brought tidings of him; but think rather that they have told you only a few things, for at all events they scarcely can have given circumstances of so great import in any detail. And because I at your request have called to mind a few circumstances about him, and shall 3 This heading, preserved in the Evagrian version, is probably the original one. Compare the statement to the same effect in Vit. Pachom. 63. The preface to the Evagrian version is impor- tant as bearing on the question of interpolation. It runs as follows: ‘ Evagrius, presbyter, to his dearest son Innocent, greet- ing in the Lord. A word-for-word translation from one language to another obscures the sense and as it were chokes the corn with luxuriant grass. For in slavishly following cases and constructions, the language scarcely explains by lengthy periphrasis what it might state by concise expression. To avoid this, I have at your request rendered the Life of the blessed Antony in such a way as to give the full sense, but cut short somewhat of the words. Let others try co catch syllables and letters; do you seek the meaning, ANTONY.
ANTONY.
send as much as J can tell in a letter, do not neglect to question those who sail from here: for possibly when all have told their tale, the account will hardly be in proportion to his merits. On account of this I was desirous, when I received your letter, to send for certain of the monks, those especially who were wont to be more frequently with him, that if I could learn any fresh details I might send them to you. But since the season for sailing was com- ing to an end and the letter-carrier urgent, I hastened to write to your piety what I myself know, having seen him many times, and what I was able to learn from him, for I was his attendant for a long time, and poured water on his hands?; in all points being mindful of the truth, that no one should disbelieve through hearing too much, nor on the other hand by hearing too little should despise the man.
1. Antony you must know was by descent an Egyptian: his parents were of good family and possessed considerable wealth**, and as they were Christians he also was reared in the same Faith. In infancy he was brought up with his parents, knowing nought else but them and his home. But when he was grown and arrived at boyhood, and was advanc- ing in years, he could not endure to learn?? letters, not caring to associate with other boys; but all his desire was, as it is written of Jacob, to live a plain man at home3. With his parents he used to attend the Lord’s House, and neither as a child was he idle nor when older did he despise them; but was both obedient to his father and mother and attentive to what was read, keeping in his heart what was profitable in what he heard. And though as a child brought up in moderate affluence, he did not trouble his parents for varied or 2 Cf. 2 Kings iii. 11; the expression merely refers to personal attendance (contrast §§ 47, 93). ‘The text is uncertain, as some MSS. both Greek and Latin read, ‘was able to learn from him who was his attendant,’ &c. The question of textual evidence requires further sifting. In support of the statement in the text we may cite Af. c. Av. 6, where Ath. is called ‘one of the ascetics,’ which may, but need not, refer to something of the kind, 2a At Coma in Upper Egypt, see Sozom. i. 13.
2b Cf. St. Aug. de Docty. Christ. Prologue.
3 Gen. xxv. 27.
luxurious fare, nor was this a source of plea- sure to him; but was content simply with what he found nor sought anything further.
2. After the death of his father and mother he was left alone with one little sister: his age was about eighteen or twenty, and on him the care both of home and sister rested. Now it was not six months after the death of his parents, and going according to custom into the Lord’s House, he communed with himself and reflected as he walked how the Apostles ¢ left all and followed the Saviour; and how they in the Acts 5 sold their possessions and brought and laid them at the Apostles’ feet for distribu- tion to then eedy, and what and how great a hope was laid up for them in heaven. Ponder- ing over these things he entered the church, and it happened the Gospel was being read, and he heard the Lord saying to the rich man, ‘If thou wouldest be perfect, go and sell that thou hast and give to the poor; and come follow Me and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.’ Antony, as though God had put him in mind of the Saints, and the passage had been read on his account, went out immediately from the church, and gave the possessions of his forefathers to the villagers—they were three hundred acres 7, productive and very fair —that they should be no more a clog upon himself and his sister®. And all the rest that was movable he sold, and having got together much money he gave it to the poor, reserving a little however for his sister’s sake.
3. And again as he went into the church, hearing the Lord say in the Gospel9, ‘be not anxious for the morrow,’ he could stay no longer, but went out and gave those things also to the poor. Having committed his sister to known and faithful virgins, and put her into a convent’? to be brought up, he henceforth devoted himself outside his house to discipline**, taking heed to himself and training himself with patience. For there were not yet so many monasteries ** in Egypt, and no monk at all knew of the distant desert; but all who wished to give heed to themselves practised the discipline in solitude near their own village. Now there was then in the next village an old man who had lived the life of a 4 Matt. iv. 20.
7 dpovpa. fTerod. ii. 168.
8 Or, perhaps, ‘in order taat they (the villagers) might have no occasion to trouble himself and his sister,’ i.e. on condition of future immunity from taxes, &c. (so Neander).
9 Matt. vi. 34.
10 TlapGevwy: the earliest use of the word in this sense. Per- haps a house occupied by Virgins is implied in Afol. c. Ar. 15. But at this time virgins generally lived with their families. See D.C.A. 2021» (the reference to Tertullian there is not relevant), Eichhorn, pp. 4, sqq., 28—30.
II daxnors (so throughont the /’z/a).
12 Probably the word has in this place the sense of a monk’s cell (D.C.A. 1220), as below, § 39.
The arura was roo Egyptian cubits square, see VITAVSo en LONT hermit from his youth up. Antony, after he had seen this man, imitated him in piety. And at first he began to abide in places out- side the village: then if he heard of a good man anywhere, like the prudent bee, he went forth and sought him, nor turned back to his own place until he had seen him; and he re- turned, having got from the good man as it were supplies for his journey in the way of virtue. So dwelling there at first, he con- firmed his purpose not to return to the abode of his fathers nor to the remembrance of his kinsfolk; but to keep all his desire and energy for perfecting his discipline. He worked, how- ever, with his hands, having heard, ‘he who is idle let him not eat *3,’ and part he spent on bread and part he gave to the needy. And he was constant in prayer, knowing that a man ought to pray in secret unceasingly "4. For he had given such heed to what was read that none of the things that were written fell from him to the ground, but. he remembered all, and afterwards his memory served him for books.
4. Thus conducting himself, Antony was beloved by all. He subjected himself in sin- cerity to the good men whom he visited, and learned thoroughly where each surpassed him in zeal and discipline. He observed the graciousness of one; the unceasing prayer of another; he took knowledge of another’s freedom from anger and another’s loving-kind- ness; he gave heed to one as he watched, to another as he studied; one he admired for his endurance, another for his fasting and sleeping on the ground; the meekness of one and the long-suffering of another he watched with care, while he took note of the piety towards Christ and the mutual love which animated all. Thus filled, he returned to his own place of dis- cipline, and henceforth would strive to unite the qualities of each, and was eager to show in himself the virtues of all. With others of the same age he had no rivalry; save this only, that he should not be second to them in higher things. And this he did so as to hurt the feel- ings of nobody, but made them rejoice over him. So all they of that village and the good men in whose intimacy he was, when they saw that he was a man of this sort, used to call him God-beloved. And some welcomed him as a son, others as a brother.
5. But the devil, who hates and envies what is good, could not endure to see such a resolution in a youth, but endeavoured to carry out against him what he had been wont to effect against others. First of all he tried to lead him away from the disci- pline, whispering to him the remembrance of LIFE OF his wealth, care for his sister, claims of kin- dred, love of money, love of glory, the vari- ous pleasures of the table and the other re- laxations of life, and at last the difficulty of virtue and the labour of it; he suggested also the infirmity of the body and the length of the time. In a word he raised in his mind a great dust of debate, wishing to debar him from his settled purpose. But when the enemy saw himself to be too weak for Antony’s deter- mination, and that he rather was conquered by the other’s firmness, overthrown by his great faith and falling through his constant prayers, then at length putting his trust in the weapons which are's ‘in the navel of his belly’ and boasting in them—for they are his first snare for the young—he attacked the young man, disturb- ing him by night and harassing him by day, so that even the onlookers saw the struggle which was going on between them. The one would suggest foul thoughts and the other counter them with prayers: the one fire him with lust, the other, as one who seemed to blush, fortify his body with faith, prayers, and fasting. And the devil, unhappy wight, one night even took upon him the shape of a woman and imitated all her acts simply to beguile Antony. But he, his mind filled with Christ and the nobility inspired by Him, and consider- ing the spirituality of the soul, quenched the coal of the other’s deceit. Again the enemy sug- gested the ease of pleasure. But he like a man filled with rage and grief turned his thoughts to the threatened fire and the gnawing worm, and setting these in array against his ad- versary, passed through the temptation un- scathed. All this was a source of shame to his foe. For he, deeming himself like God, was now mocked by a young man; and he who boasted himself against flesh and blood was being put to flight by a man in the flesh. For the Lord was working with Antony—the Lord who for our sake took flesh *® and gave the body victory over the devil, so that all who truly fight can say *7, ‘not I but the grace of God which was with me.’
6. At last when the dragon could not even thus overthrow Antony, but saw himself thrust out of his heart, gnashing his teeth as it is written, and.as it were beside himself, he ap- peared to Antony like a black boy, taking a visible shape?74 in accordance with the colour of his mind. And cringing to him, as it were, he plied him with thoughts no longer, for guile- ful as he was, he had been worsted, but at 15. Job xl. 16 (v. 11, LX X): the descriptions of behemoth and leviathan are allegorically referred to Satan, cf. Ovat. i. x, note 5. and below, § 24, Zp. 4g. 3.
17@ For visible appearances of devils, see ‘Phantasms of the Living,’ vol. 2, p. 266, &c. (Triibner, 1886).
ANTONY. 197