Letter 24: Concerning the virgin Asella. Dedicated to God before her birth, Marcella's sister had been made a church-virgin at the age of ten. From that time she had lived a life of the severest asceticism, first as a member and then as the head of Marcella's community upon the Aventine.
Barbarian peoples/invasions; Persecution or exile; Travel & mobility
Letter 24: To Marcella, Concerning the Virgin Asella (384 AD)
[Jerome holds up Marcella's sister Asella as the ideal model of the consecrated virgin life. Asella had been dedicated to God before her birth, formally consecrated at age ten, and lived a life of extreme asceticism — first as a member, then as head of Marcella's religious community on the Aventine Hill in Rome.]
1. No one should fault my letters for the praise and blame they contain. To denounce sinners is to warn those in similar danger; to praise the virtuous is to spur the zeal of those who want to do right. The day before yesterday I wrote to you about Lea, of blessed memory, and barely had I finished when my conscience pricked me. It would be wrong, I thought, to celebrate a widow and pass over a virgin — who holds a higher rank. So in this letter I want to give you a brief portrait of our dear Asella's life. Please do not read it aloud to her; she would be horrified by praise directed at herself. Show it instead to the young women of your acquaintance, so they can follow her example and take her conduct as the pattern of a perfect life.
2. I'll skip over the fact that before her birth she was blessed while still in her mother's womb, or that she was presented to her father in a dream, carried in a bowl of gleaming glass brighter than any mirror. And I'll say nothing about her formal consecration to virginity, which took place when she was barely ten years old — a child still in swaddling clothes, so to speak. Everything that comes before works should be counted as grace [Romans 11:6], although God surely foreknew the future when he sanctified Jeremiah while still unborn [Jeremiah 1:5], when he made John leap in his mother's womb [Luke 1:41], and when, before the foundation of the world, he set apart Paul to preach the gospel of his Son [Ephesians 1:4].
3. What I want to describe is the life she chose for herself after her twelfth year — a life she seized, clung to, entered upon, and carried through. Confined to her tiny cell, she ranged freely through paradise. Fasting was her recreation; hunger was her refreshment. When she ate at all, it was not from desire for food but from sheer physical collapse — and the bread, salt, and cold water she allowed herself sharpened her appetite more than they satisfied it.
But I've nearly forgotten to mention what should have come first. While her resolve was still fresh, she took her gold necklace — one of those fashionable chain-link pieces, made in the "lamprey" pattern, where bars of metal interlock to form a flexible band — sold it without her parents' knowledge, and dressed herself in a dark gown her mother had never been willing to let her wear. Then she immediately consecrated herself to the Lord. By that single act she made it clear to her family: don't bother hoping for any further concessions from someone who, by her very clothing, had already condemned the world.
4. To continue: her habits were quiet and her life intensely private. She rarely went out and almost never spoke to a man. More remarkably still — much as she loved her virgin sister — she didn't seek her company. She worked with her own hands, knowing the Scripture: "If anyone will not work, let him not eat" [2 Thessalonians 3:10]. She spoke to the Bridegroom constantly through prayer and psalmody. She hurried to the martyrs' shrines unnoticed — and the less she was recognized, the more she enjoyed it. She fasted the entire year, going two or three days at a stretch without food; but when Lent arrived, she raised every sail, so to speak, and fasted nearly from one week's end to the next, all with a cheerful face [Matthew 6:17]. What might seem incredible — if it were not that all things are possible with God [Matthew 19:26] — is that she lived this way until her fiftieth year without ruining her digestion or developing a single case of colic. Sleeping on bare ground didn't damage her limbs, and the rough sackcloth she wore never made her skin foul or rough. With a sound body and an even sounder soul, she found all her delight in solitude and carved out a monk's hermitage in the heart of bustling Rome.
5. You know all this better than I do — I've learned these few details from you. You're so close to Asella that you've seen with your own eyes how her knees have hardened like a camel's from the frequency of her prayers. I can only set down what I've gathered from your accounts. She is cheerful when she's serious and serious when she's cheerful; her manner is winning but always grave, grave but always winning. Her pale face speaks of self-denial without advertising it. Her speech is silent; her silence speaks. Her pace is neither hurried nor slow. Her demeanor never changes. She ignores refinement and pays no attention to her appearance — and when she does attend to it, it's without attending. Her whole life has been so consistent that here in Rome — that capital of vain display, shameless indulgence, and idle pleasure, where humility is taken for weakness — the good praise her conduct and the bad don't dare attack it. Let widows and virgins follow her example. Let married women admire her. Let sinful women fear her. And let bishops look up to her.
To Marcella
Concerning the virgin Asella. Dedicated to God before her birth, Marcella's sister had been made a church-virgin at the age of ten. From that time she had lived a life of the severest asceticism, first as a member and then as the head of Marcella's community upon the Aventine. Jerome, who subsequently wrote her a letter (XLV) on his departure from Rome, now holds her up as a model to be admired and imitated. Written at Rome A.D. 384.
1. Let no one blame my letters for the eulogies and censures which are contained in them. To arraign sinners is to admonish those in like case, and to praise the virtuous is to quicken the zeal of those who wish to do right. The day before yesterday I spoke to you concerning Lea of blessed memory, and I had hardly done so, when I was pricked in my conscience. It would be wrong for me, I thought, to ignore a virgin after speaking of one who, as a widow, held a lower place. Accordingly, in my present letter, I mean to give you a brief sketch of the life of our dear Asella. Please do not read it to her; for she is sure to be displeased with eulogies of which she is herself the object. Show it rather to the young girls of your acquaintance, that they may guide themselves by her example, and may take her behavior as the pattern of a perfect life.
2. I pass over the facts that, before her birth, she was blessed while still in her mother's womb, and that, virgin-like, she was delivered to her father in a dream in a bowl of shining glass brighter than a mirror. And I say nothing of her consecration to the blessed life of virginity, a ceremony which took place when she was hardly more than ten years old, a mere babe still wrapped in swaddling clothes. For all that comes before works should be counted of grace; Romans 11:6 although, doubtless, God foreknew the future when He sanctified Jeremiah as yet unborn, Jeremiah 1:5 when He made John to leap in his mother's womb, Luke 1:41 and when, before the foundation of the world, He set apart Paul to preach the gospel of His son. Ephesians 1:4
3. I come now to the life which after her twelfth year she, by her own exertion, chose, laid hold of, held fast to, entered upon, and fulfilled. Shut up in her narrow cell she roamed through paradise. Fasting was her recreation and hunger her refreshment. If she took food it was not from love of eating, but because of bodily exhaustion; and the bread and salt and cold water to which she restricted herself sharpened her appetite more than they appeased it.
But I have almost forgotten to mention that of which I should have spoken first. When her resolution was still fresh she took her gold necklace made in the lamprey pattern (so called because bars of metal are linked together so as to form a flexible chain), and sold it without her parents' knowledge. Then putting on a dark dress such as her mother had never been willing that she should wear, she concluded her pious enterprise by consecrating herself immediately to the Lord. She thus showed her relatives that they need hope to wring no farther concessions from one who, by her very dress, had condemned the world.
4. To go on with my story, her ways were quiet and she lived in great privacy. In fact, she rarely went abroad or spoke to a man. More wonderful still, much as she loved her virgin sister, she did not care to see her. She worked with her own hands, for she knew that it was written: If any will not work neither shall he eat. 2 Thessalonians 3:10 To the Bridegroom she spoke constantly in prayer and psalmody. She hurried to the martyrs' shrines unnoticed. Such visits gave her pleasure, and the more so because she was never recognized. All the year round she observed a continual fast, remaining without food for two or three days at a time; but when Lent came she hoisted — if I may so speak — every stitch of canvas and fasted nearly from week's end to week's end with a cheerful countenance. Matthew 6:17 What would perhaps be incredible, were it not that with God all things are possible, Matthew 19:26 is that she lived this life until her fiftieth year without weakening her digestion or bringing on herself the pain of colic. Lying on the dry ground did not affect her limbs, and the rough sackcloth that she wore failed to make her skin either foul or rough. With a sound body and a still sounder soul she sought all her delight in solitude, and found for herself a monkish hermitage in the centre of busy Rome.
5. You are better acquainted with all this than I am, and the few details that I have given I have learned from you. So intimate are you with Asella that you have seen, with your own eyes, her holy knees hardened like those of a camel from the frequency of her prayers. I merely set forth what I can glean from you. She is alike pleasant in her serious moods and serious in her pleasant ones: her manner, while winning, is always grave, and while grave is always winning. Her pale face indicates continence but does not betoken ostentation. Her speech is silent and her silence is speech. Her pace is neither too fast nor too slow. Her demeanor is always the same. She disregards refinement and is careless about her dress. When she does attend to it it is without attending. So entirely consistent has her life been that here in Rome, the centre of vain shows, wanton license, and idle pleasure, where to be humble is to be held spiritless, the good praise her conduct and the bad do not venture to impugn it. Let widows and virgins imitate her, let wedded wives make much of her, let sinful women fear her, and let bishops look up to her.
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Source. Translated by W.H. Fremantle, G. Lewis and W.G. Martley. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 6. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1893.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3001024.htm>.
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Letter 24: To Marcella, Concerning the Virgin Asella (384 AD)
[Jerome holds up Marcella's sister Asella as the ideal model of the consecrated virgin life. Asella had been dedicated to God before her birth, formally consecrated at age ten, and lived a life of extreme asceticism — first as a member, then as head of Marcella's religious community on the Aventine Hill in Rome.]
1. No one should fault my letters for the praise and blame they contain. To denounce sinners is to warn those in similar danger; to praise the virtuous is to spur the zeal of those who want to do right. The day before yesterday I wrote to you about Lea, of blessed memory, and barely had I finished when my conscience pricked me. It would be wrong, I thought, to celebrate a widow and pass over a virgin — who holds a higher rank. So in this letter I want to give you a brief portrait of our dear Asella's life. Please do not read it aloud to her; she would be horrified by praise directed at herself. Show it instead to the young women of your acquaintance, so they can follow her example and take her conduct as the pattern of a perfect life.
2. I'll skip over the fact that before her birth she was blessed while still in her mother's womb, or that she was presented to her father in a dream, carried in a bowl of gleaming glass brighter than any mirror. And I'll say nothing about her formal consecration to virginity, which took place when she was barely ten years old — a child still in swaddling clothes, so to speak. Everything that comes before works should be counted as grace [Romans 11:6], although God surely foreknew the future when he sanctified Jeremiah while still unborn [Jeremiah 1:5], when he made John leap in his mother's womb [Luke 1:41], and when, before the foundation of the world, he set apart Paul to preach the gospel of his Son [Ephesians 1:4].
3. What I want to describe is the life she chose for herself after her twelfth year — a life she seized, clung to, entered upon, and carried through. Confined to her tiny cell, she ranged freely through paradise. Fasting was her recreation; hunger was her refreshment. When she ate at all, it was not from desire for food but from sheer physical collapse — and the bread, salt, and cold water she allowed herself sharpened her appetite more than they satisfied it.
But I've nearly forgotten to mention what should have come first. While her resolve was still fresh, she took her gold necklace — one of those fashionable chain-link pieces, made in the "lamprey" pattern, where bars of metal interlock to form a flexible band — sold it without her parents' knowledge, and dressed herself in a dark gown her mother had never been willing to let her wear. Then she immediately consecrated herself to the Lord. By that single act she made it clear to her family: don't bother hoping for any further concessions from someone who, by her very clothing, had already condemned the world.
4. To continue: her habits were quiet and her life intensely private. She rarely went out and almost never spoke to a man. More remarkably still — much as she loved her virgin sister — she didn't seek her company. She worked with her own hands, knowing the Scripture: "If anyone will not work, let him not eat" [2 Thessalonians 3:10]. She spoke to the Bridegroom constantly through prayer and psalmody. She hurried to the martyrs' shrines unnoticed — and the less she was recognized, the more she enjoyed it. She fasted the entire year, going two or three days at a stretch without food; but when Lent arrived, she raised every sail, so to speak, and fasted nearly from one week's end to the next, all with a cheerful face [Matthew 6:17]. What might seem incredible — if it were not that all things are possible with God [Matthew 19:26] — is that she lived this way until her fiftieth year without ruining her digestion or developing a single case of colic. Sleeping on bare ground didn't damage her limbs, and the rough sackcloth she wore never made her skin foul or rough. With a sound body and an even sounder soul, she found all her delight in solitude and carved out a monk's hermitage in the heart of bustling Rome.
5. You know all this better than I do — I've learned these few details from you. You're so close to Asella that you've seen with your own eyes how her knees have hardened like a camel's from the frequency of her prayers. I can only set down what I've gathered from your accounts. She is cheerful when she's serious and serious when she's cheerful; her manner is winning but always grave, grave but always winning. Her pale face speaks of self-denial without advertising it. Her speech is silent; her silence speaks. Her pace is neither hurried nor slow. Her demeanor never changes. She ignores refinement and pays no attention to her appearance — and when she does attend to it, it's without attending. Her whole life has been so consistent that here in Rome — that capital of vain display, shameless indulgence, and idle pleasure, where humility is taken for weakness — the good praise her conduct and the bad don't dare attack it. Let widows and virgins follow her example. Let married women admire her. Let sinful women fear her. And let bishops look up to her.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.