A FEW years before the Persian invasion in 538, there lived, in the town of Adana in Cilicia, a priest named Theophilus, treasurer and archdeacon. He lived in strict observance of all his religious duties, was famous for his liberality to the poor, his sympathy with the afflicted, his eloquence in the pulpit, his private devotion, and severe asceticism. On the decease of the bishop, by popular acclamation he was summoned to the episcopal oversight of the diocese, but his deep humility urged him to refuse the office, even when it was pressed upon him by the metropolitan. Seldom has a nolo episcopari been carried out to such an emphatic refusal as was given by Theophilus. A stranger was raised to the vacant seat, and the treasurer resumed the course of life he had pursued for so many years with credit to himself and advantage to others, content in his own mind at having refused the office, which might have aroused his pride, and which certainly would have diminished his opportunities of self-sacrifice. Virtue invariably arouses the spirit of detraction, and Theophilus, by his refusal of the bishopric, was thrust into public notice, and attracted public attention. The consequence was that the evil-minded and envious originated slanders, which, circulating widely, produced a revulsion of feeling towards Theophilus and, from being generally reported, were accepted as substantially true. These stories reaching the ears of the new bishop, he sent for the archdeacon, and without properly investigating the charges, concluding he was guilty, deprived him of his offices.
One would have supposed that the humility which had required the holy man to refuse a mitre, would have rendered him callous to the voice of slander, and have sustained him under deprivation. But the trial was too great for his virtue. He brooded over the accusations raised against him, and the wrongs inflicted upon him, till the whole object of his labour was the clearing of his character. He sought every available means of unmasking the calumnies of his maligners, and exposing the falsity of the charges raised against him. But he found himself unable to effect his object: one man is powerless against a multitude, and slander is a hydra which, when maimed in one head, produces others in the place of that struck off. Baffled, despairing, and without a friend to sustain his cause, the poor clerk sought redress in a manner which a month ago would have filled him with horror. He visited a necromancer, who led him at midnight to a place where four cross-roads met, and there conjured up Satan, who promised reinstatement in all his offices to the unfortunate Theophilus, and, what he valued more, a complete clearing of his character. The priest, to obtain these boons, signed away his soul with a pen dipped in his own blood, and abjured for ever Jesus Christ and his spotless mother.
On the morrow, the bishop discovering his error, how we know not, sent for Theophilus, and acknowledged publicly that he had been misled by false reports, the utter valuelessness of which he was ready frankly to acknowledge; and he asked pardon of the priest, for having unjustly deprived him of his office. The populace enthusiastically reversed their late opinion of the treasurer, and greeted him as a saint and confessor. For some days all went well, and in the excitement of a return to his former occupations the compact he had made was forgotten. But after a while, as reason and religion resumed their sway, the conscience of Theophilus gave him no rest. He paced his room at nights in an agony of terror, his face lost its colour, his brow was seamed with wrinkles, an unutterable horror gleamed from his deep-set eyes. Hour by hour he prayed, but found no relief. At length he resolved on a solemn fast of forty days. This he accomplished, praying nightly in the church of the Panhagia till the grey of morning stole in at the little windows of the dome and obscured the lamps. On the fortieth night, the Blessed Virgin appeared to him, and sadly rebuked him for his sin. He implored her pardon and all-prevailing intercession, and this she promised him. The following night she re-appeared and assured him that Christ had, at her prayer, forgiven him. With a cry of joy he awoke; and on his breast lay the deed which had made over his soul to Satan, obtained from the evil one by the mercy of the sacred Mother of God.
The next day was Sunday. He rose, spent some time in acts of thanksgiving, and then went to church where the divine liturgy was being celebrated. After the reading of the gospel, he flung himself at the bishop’s feet, and requested permission to make his confession in public. Then he related the circumstances of his fall, and showed the compact signed with his blood to the assembled multitude. Having finished his confession, he prostrated himself before the bishop and asked for absolution. The deed was torn and burned before the people, he was reconciled and received the blessed sacrament, after which he returned to his house in a fever, and died at the expiration of three days. The Church honours him as a penitent, on the 4th February.
The original account of this famous compact with the devil is in the Greek of Eutychianus, disciple of Theophilus, who declares that he relates what he had seen with his own eyes, and heard from the mouth of Theophilus himself. From the Greek of Eutychianus, two early Latin versions are extant, one by Paulus Diaconus, the other by Gentianus Hervetus. The former of these is published in the great work of the Bollandists, who fix the date of the event in 538. The version of Gentianus Hervetus purports to be a translation from Symeon Metaphrastes, who nourished in the tenth century, and who embodied the narrative of Eutychianus in his great collection of the Lives of the Saints.
In the tenth century, Hrosvitha, the illustrious nun of Gandersheim in Saxony, composed a Latin poem on the story of Theophilus. In the eleventh century the legend was versified by Marbodus, Bishop of Rennes. There is a poem on the subject by Gaultier de Coincy. Other rhymed versions have been published by M. Achille Jubinal, and M. Paulin Paris. One of the best of the ancient poems is that of Rutebeuf, a trouvère of the thirteenth century. There are several older miracle plays on mysteries of Theophilus: one in French, published by M. Francisque Michel[1]; another in low German, published by M. Dasent[2]. The latter gentleman has collected a great number of pieces on Theophilus in various European languages, and quotes references to the legend in early French, Anglo-Saxon, Anglo-Norman, and German writers.
Archbishop Ælfric (d. 1006) alludes to the story in his “Homilies;” S. Bernard also, in his “Deprecatio ad gloriosam Virginem Mariam;” Vincent of Beauvais, in his wonderful “Speculum Historiale;” S. Bonaventura, as a passionate devotee to the Virgin, could not omit it from his “Speculum Beatæ Mariæ;” Jacques de Voragine inserts it in his “Golden Legend,” and Albertus Magnus includes it in his “Biblia B. Mariæ Virginis.” It is again mentioned by the great German poet of the twelfth century, Hartmann von der Aue, and by Konrad von Würzburg, in the thirteenth century. A Flemish Theophilus was published by M. Philipp Blommaert, from an old MS. of the fourteenth century, in 1836. To the same century belongs one version of the Theophilus legend in Icelandic, published by M. Dasent; the other is younger by a century. An old Swedish Theophilus of 1350 exists in the royal library at Stockholm.
In the cathedral of Notre-Dame, at Paris, are two sculptured representations of the fable; one is on the north porch. In the cathedral of Laon it is painted on a window in the choir, in eighteen medallions. It is also to be seen in the church of S. Peter, at Troyes, and in that of S. Julien at Mans, in both instances on stained glass.
Further information as to the legend, with the texts, can be found in—“Theophilus, in Icelandic, Low German, and other tongues, from MSS. in the Royal Library, Stockholm, by G. Webbe Dasent, M.A. Stockholm, 1845;” in “E. F. Sommer, De Theophili cum Diabole fœdere. Halle, 1844;” and in “Miracle de Theophile, mis en vers au commencement du XIIIme siècle, par Gauthier de Coincy, publié par M. D. Maillet. Rennes, 1838.”
I do not think it improbable that this famous story may rest on a foundation of truth; indeed it bears on the face of it tokens of authenticity. Theophilus is driven from his position by slanders: this preys on his mind. By some means he is reinstated. The revulsion of feeling upsets his reason, he undertakes a prodigious fast, goes crazy, tells a long rambling story about a compact with the devil, and dies three days after in brain-fever. His narrative is the only extraordinary item in the tale. If we remember that this was told after a forty-days’ fast, and immediately before a mortal fever, the only thing to be wondered at in the legend is that any sane persons believed his ravings to have in them a foundation of truth.