The Temptation of Saint Anthony (Modern Library Classics)
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Blue slipcase rubbed at all edges, moderately worn in places, tiny split. Monthly Newsletter laid in. Fine with No dust jacket as issued Edition: The Limited Editions Club, Edition limited to copies this, no.
The temptation of St. Anthony
Monthly newsletter laid in. Original contents in fine condition with contemporary binding and box in new condition. Number of a limited edition of copies signed by the artist. LEC monthly letter laid in. Printed under Chappell's supervision by the Aldus Printers. Illustrations in full color. Some spotting to the covers. Slipcase is rubbed along edges. Russell Books Ltd Condition: Purple cloth boards with gilt lettering to spine. Firm binding to lightly tanned pages with rough cut page edges. Infrequent cracked hinges exposing binding.
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Minor curling and creasing to corners. Frequent finger marks and small stains to pages. Minor foxing to endpapers and page edges. Moderate rub wear and markings to boards with tanning to spine and board edges. Light bleach spotting and several small stains. Moderate rub wear to edges and bumped corners. Minor fraying and tears to spine ends. The World of Rare Books Published: Very good hardcover with Slipcase.
Beautiful wood engravings by by Ilse Bischoff. Pages are clean and unmarked.
Covers show very minor shelf wear. Binding is tight, hinges strong. Slipcase shows edge wear. Ships same or next business day! Dust jacket has some edge wear. Broad Street Books Condition: Mega Buzz Inc Condition: BTOES unmarked pages a white paint drip on rear board, no jacket faded spine. Name and prices written inside front cover on the decorated endpapers. Gustave Flaubert was a French novelist and short story writer who is counted among the greatest Western writers. Flaubert was considered to be a master of style, obsessively devoted to finding the right word le mot juste , in every piece of literature he produced.
Solitary by nature and not of a happy temperament, Flaubert became absorbed with literature and history and early became aware of his vocation as a writer. He is known especially for his first published novel, Madame Bovary The Temptation of Saint Anthony is a book which the French author spent practically his whole life restlessly working on before publishing the final version in The story was based on the 4th century Christian anchorite, Saint Anthony the Great, who lived in the Egyptian desert and experienced philosophical and physical temptations.
Its fantastic style and setting were inspired by the Brueghel painting which he saw at the Balbi Palace in Genoa. This item ships from multiple locations. Moderate shelf wear on dust jacket. P-Town Book Sales Condition: Decorated blue cloth with Gilt lettering. Spine sunned and boards slightly bumped. Contents have rough cut foredge and gilt top edge. As well, answers may be filled in.
The Millions: The Temptation of Saint Anthony (Modern Library Classics) by Gustave Flaubert
Lastly, may be missing components, e. Written by Gustave Flaubert. Introduction by Michel Foucault. Translated by Lafcadio Hearn. Add to Wish List Look inside.
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Random House Group Modern Library. On sale Jan 08, Pages Add to cart Add to list Exam Copies. Based on the story of the third-century saint who lived on an isolated mountaintop in the Egyptian desert, it is a fantastical rendering of one night during which Anthony is beseiged by carnal temptations and philosophical doubt. Olds, biographical note, appendix, glossary, and notes. It is in the Thebaid, at the summit of a mountain, upon a platform, rounded off into the form of a demilune, and enclosed by huge stones. It is built of mud and reeds, it is flat-roofed and doorless. A pitcher and a loaf of black bread can be distinguished within also, in the middle of the apartment a large book resting on a wooden stela; while here and there, fragments of basketwork, two or three mats, a basket, and a knife lie upon the ground.
Some ten paces from the hut, there is a long cross planted in the soil; and, at the other end of the platform, an aged and twisted palmtree leans over the abyss; for the sides of the mountain are perpendicular, and the Nile appears to form a lake at the foot of the cliff. The view to right and left is broken by the barrier of rocks. But on the desert-side, like a vast succession of sandy beaches, immense undulations of an ashen-blond color extend one behind the other, rising higher as they re- cede; and far in the distance, beyond the sands, the Libyan chain forms a chalk-colored wall, lightly shaded by violet mists.
On the opposite side the sun is sinking. In the north the sky is of a pearl-gray tint, while at the zenith purple clouds disposed like the tufts of a gigantic mane, lengthen themselves against the blue vault. These streaks of flame take darker tones; the azure spots turn to a nacreous pallor; the shrubs, the pebbles, the earth, all now seem hard as bronze; and throughout space there floats a golden dust so fine as to become confounded with the vibrations of the light.
Saint Anthony who has a long beard, long hair, and wears a tunic of goatskin, is seated on the ground cross-legged, and is occupied in weaving mats. As soon as the sun disappears, he utters a deep sigh, and, gazing upon the horizon: Nevertheless formerly I used not to be so wretched. Before the end of the night I commenced my orisons; then I descended to the river to get water, and remounted the rugged pathway with the skin upon my shoulder, singing hymns on the way. Then I would amuse myself by arranging everything in my hut.
I would make my tools; I tried to make all my mats exactly equal in size, and all my baskets light; for then my least actions seemed to me duties in nowise difficult or painful of accomplishment. Then at regular hours I ceased working; and when I prayed with my arms extended, I felt as though a fountain of mercy were pouring from the height of heaven into my heart. That fountain is now dried up.
He walks up and down slowly, within the circuit of the rocks. All blamed me when I left the house. My mother sank to the ground, dying;1 my sister from afar off made signs to me to return; and the other wept, Ammonaria, the child whom I used to meet every evening at the cistern, when she took the oxen to drink. She ran after me. Her foot rings glittered in the dust; and her tunic, open at the hips, fluttered loosely in the wind.
The aged anchorite who was leading me away called her vile names.
Doyle asks us to think about the physicality of Christ, a man who died at his physical peak. Another time Athanasius summoned me to assist him against the Arians. Henry IV, Part 1. The Essential Prose of John Milton. Dusk and Other Stories. The collection begins with her title poem, searing in action: Behind the abandoned hospital on a peach tree hangs one rotten peach.
Our two camels galloped forward without respite; and I have seen none of my people since that day. At first, I selected for my dwelling place the tomb of a Pharaoh. But an enchantment circulates through all those subterranean palaces, where the darkness seems to have been thickened by the ancient smoke of the aromatics. From the depths of Sarcophagi, I heard doleful voices arise, and call my name; or else, I suddenly beheld the abominable things painted upon the walls live and move; and I fled away to the shore of the Red Sea, and took refuge in a ruined citadel. There my only companions were the scorpions dragging themselves among the stones, and the eagles continually wheeling above my head, in the blue of heaven.
At night I was torn by claws, bitten by beaks; soft wings brushed against me; and frightful demons, shrieking in my ears, flung me upon the ground. Once I was even rescued by the people of a caravan going to Alexandria; and they took me away with them. Then I sought to obtain instruction from the good old man Didymus.
Although blind, none equalled him in the knowledge of the Scriptures. When the lesson was finished, he used to ask me to give him my arm to lean upon, that we might walk together. Then I would conduct him to the Paneum, whence may be seen the Pharos and the open sea. Then we would return by way of the port, elbowing men of all nations, even Cimmerians clad in the skins of bears and Gymnosophists of the Ganges anointed with cowdung.
But there was always some fighting in the streets—either on account of the Jews refusing to pay taxes, or of seditious people who wished to drive the Romans from the city. Moreover, the city is full of heretics—followers of Manes, Valentinus, Basilides, Arius—all seeking to engross my attention in order to argue with me and to convince me. Their discourses often come back to my memory.
Vainly do I seek to banish them from my mind. I took refuge at Colzim, and there lived a life of such penance that I ceased to fear God. A few men, desirous of becoming anchorites, gathered about me. I imposed a practical rule of life upon them, hating, as I did, the extravagance of Gnosis and the assertions of the philosophers. Messages were sent to me from all parts, and men came from afar off to visit me. Meanwhile the people were torturing the confessors; and the thirst of martyrdom drew me to Alexandria. The persecution had ceased three days before I arrived there! While returning thence, I was stopped by a great crowd assembled before the temple of Serapis.
They told me it was a last example which the Governor had resolved to make. In the centre of the portico, under the sunlight, a naked woman was fettered to a column, and two soldiers were flogging her with thongs; at every blow her whole body writhed. She turned round, her mouth open; and over the heads of the crowd, through the long hair half hiding her face, I thought that I could recognize Ammonaria.
He passes his hands over his forehead. I must not think of it! Another time Athanasius summoned me to assist him against the Arians. The contest was limited to invectives and laughter. But since that time he has been calumniated, dispossessed of his see, obliged to fly for safety elsewhere. Where is he now? I do not know! The people give themselves very little trouble to bring me news. All my disciples have abandoned me—Hilarion like the rest! He was perhaps fifteen years of age when he first came to me and his intelligence was so remarkable that he asked me questions incessantly.
Then he used to listen to me with a pensive air, and whatever I needed he brought it to me without a murmur—nimbler than a kid, merry enough to make even the patriarchs laugh. He was a son to me! The sky is red; the earth completely black. Long drifts of sand follow the course of the gusts of wind, rising like great shrouds and falling again. Suddenly against a bright space in the sky a flock of birds pass, forming a triangular battalion, gleaming like one sheet of metal, of which the edges alone seem to quiver.
Ah, how I should like to follow them!
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How often also have I enviously gazed upon those long vessels, whose sails resemble wings—and above all when they were bearing far away those I had received at my hermitage! What pleasant hours we passed! No one ever interested me more than Ammon: Wherefore my obstinacy in continuing to live such a life as this?
I would have done well to remain with the monks of Nitria, inasmuch as they supplicated me to do so. They have cells apart, and nevertheless communicate with each other. On Sundays a trumpet summons them to assemble at the church, where one may see three scourges hanging up, which serve to punish delinquents, robbers, and intruders; for their discipline is severe. Nevertheless they are not without some enjoyments. The faithful bring them eggs, fruits, and even instruments with which they can extract thorns from their feet.
There are vineyards about Pisperi; those dwelling at Pabena have a raft on which they may journey when they go to seek provisions. But I might have served my brethren better as a simple priest.
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As a priest one may aid the poor, administer the sacraments, and exercise authority over families. Furthermore, all laics are not necessarily damned, and it only depended upon my own choice to become—for example—a grammarian, a philosopher.
I would then have had in my chamber a sphere of reeds, and tablets always ready at hand, young men around me, and a wreath of laurel suspended above my door, as a sign.