LETTERS

LETTER I.

TO EUSEBIUS(2).

WHEN the length of the day begins to expand in winter-time, as the sun

mounts to the upper part of his course, we keep the feast of the appearing of

the true Light divine, that through the veil of flesh has cast its bright

beams upon the life of men: but now when that luminary has traversed half the

heaven in his course, so that night and day are of equal length, the upward

return of human nature from death to life is the theme of this great and

universal festival, which all the life of those who have embraced the mystery

of the Resurrection unites in celebrating. What is the meaning of the subject

thus suggested for my letter to you? Why, since it is the custom in these

general holidays for us to take every way to show the affection harboured in

our hearts, and some, as you know, give proof of their good will by presents

of their own, we thought it only right not to leave you without the homage of

our gifts, but to lay before your lofty and high-minded soul the scanty

offerings of our poverty. Now our offering which is tendered for your

acceptance in this letter is the letter itself, in which there is not a single

word wreathed with the flowers of rhetoric or adorned with the graces of

composition, to make it to be deemed a gift at all in literary circles, but

the mystical gold, which is wrapped up in the faith of Christians, as in a

packet(3), must be my present to you, after being unwrapped, as far as

possible, by these lines, and showing its hidden brilliancy. Accordingly we

must return to our prelude. Why is it that then only, when the night has

attained its utmost length, so that no further addition is possible, that He

appears in flesh to us, Who holds the Universe in His grasp, and controls the

same Universe by His own power, Who cannot be contained even by all

intelligible things, but includes the whole, even at the time that He enters

the narrow dwelling of a fleshly tabernacle, while His mighty power thus keeps

pace with His beneficent purpose, and shows itself even as a shadow wherever

the will inclines, so that neither in the creation of the world was the power

found weaker than the will, nor when He was eager to stoop down to the

lowliness of our mortal nature did He lack power to that very end, but

actually did come to be in that condition, yet without leaving the universe

unpiloted(4)? Since, then, there is some account to be given of both those

seasons, how it is that it is winter-time when He appears in the flesh, but it

is when the days are as long as the nights that He restores to life man, who

because of his sins returned to the earth from whence he came,--by explaining

the reason of this, as well as I can in few words, I will make my letter my

present to you. Has your own sagacity, as of course it has, already divined

the mystery hinted at by these coincidences; that the advance of night is

stopped by the accessions to the light, and the period of darkness begins to

be shortened, as the length of the day is increased by the successive

additions? For thus much perhaps would be plain enough even to the

uninitiated, that sin is near akin to darkness; and in fact evil is so termed

by the Scripture. Accordingly the season in which our mystery of godliness

begins is a kind of exposition of the Divine dispensation on behalf of our

souls. For meet and right it was that, when vice was shed abroad(5) without

bounds, [upon this night of evil the Sun of righteousness should rise, and

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that in us who have before walked in darkness(6) ] the day which we receive

from Him Who placed that light in our hears should increase more and more; so

that the life which is in the light should be extended to the greatest length

possible, being constantly augmented by additions of good; and that the life

in vice should by gradual subtraction be reduced to the smallest possible

compass; for the increase of things good comes to the same thing as the

diminution of things evil. But the feast of the Resurrection; occurring when

the days are of equal length, of itself gives us this interpretation of the

coincidence, namely, that we shall no longer fight with evils only upon equal

terms, vice grappling with virtue in indecisive strife, but that the life of

light will prevail, the gloom of idolatry melting as the day waxes stronger.

For this reason also, after the moon has run her course for fourteen days,

Easter exhibits her exactly opposite to the rays of the sun, full with all the

wealth of his brightness, and not permitting any interval of darkness to take

place in its turn(7): for, after taking the place of the sun at its setting,

she does not herself set. before she mingles her own beams with the genuine

rays of the sun, so that one light remains continuously, throughout the whole

space of the earth's course by day and night, without any break whatsoever

being caused by the interposition of darkness. This discussion, dear one, we

contribute by way of a gift from our poor and needy hand; and may your whole

life be a continual festival and a high day, never dimmed by a single stain of

nightly gloom.

LETTER II.

TO THE CITY OF SEBASTEIA(8).

SOME of the brethren whose heart is as our heart told us of the slanders

that were being propagated to our detriment by those who hate peace, and

privily backbite their neighbour; and have no fear of the great and terrible

judgment-seat of Him Who has declared that account will be required even of

idle words in that trial of our life which we must all look for: they say that

the charges which are being circulated against us are such as these; that we

entertain opinions opposed to those who at Nicaea set forth the right and

sound faith, and that without due discrimination and inquiry we received into

the communion of the Catholic Church those who formerly assembled at Ancyra

under the name of Marcellus. Therefore, that falsehood may not overpower the

truth, in another letter we made a sufficient defence against the charges

levelled at us, and before the Lord we protested that we had neither departed

from the faith of the Holy Fathers, nor had we done anything without due

discrimination and inquiry in the case of those who came over from the

communion of Marcellus to that of the Church: but all that we did we did only

after the orthodox in the East, and our brethren in the ministry had entrusted

to us the consideration of the case of these persons, and had approved our

action. But inasmuch as, since we composed that written defence of our

conduct, again some of the brethren who are of one mind with us begged us to

make separately(9) with our own lips a profession of our faith, which we

entertain with full conviction(10), following as we do the utterances of

inspiration and the tradition of the Fathers, we deemed it necessary to

discourse briefly of these heads as well. We confess that the doctrine of the

Lord, which He taught His disciples, when He delivered to them the mystery of

godliness, is the foundation and root of right and sound faith, nor do we

believe that there is aught else loftier or safer than that tradition. Now the

doctrine of the Lord is this: "Go," He said, "teach all nations, baptizing

them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." Since,

then, in the case of those who are regenerate from death to eternal life, it

is through the Holy Trinity that the life-giving power is bestowed on those

who with faith are deemed worthy of the grace, and in like manner the grace is

imperfect, if any one, whichever it be, of the names of the Holy Trinity be

omitted in the saving baptism--for the sacrament of regenera-

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tion is not completed in the Son and the Father alone without the Spirit: nor

is the perfect boon of life imparted to Baptism in the Father and the Spirit,

if the name of the Son be suppressed: nor is the grace of that Resurrection

accomplished in the Father and the Son, if the Spirit be left out(1) :--for

this reason we rest all our hope, and the persuasion of the salvation of our

souls, upon the three Persons, recognized (2) by these names; and we believe

in the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, Who is the Fountain of life, and in

the Only-begotten Son of the Father, Who is the Author of life, as saith the

Apostle, and in the Holy Spirit of God, concerning Whom the Lord hath spoken,

"It is the Spirit that quickeneth". And since on us who have been redeemed

from death the grace of immortality is bestowed, as we have said, through

faith in the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, guided by these we

believe that nothing servile, nothing created, nothing unworthy of the majesty

of the Father is to be associated in thought with the Holy Trinity; since, I

say, our life is one which comes to us by faith in the Holy Trinity, taking

its rise from the God of all, flowing through the Son, and working in us by

the Holy Spirit. Having, then, this full assurance, we are baptized as we were

commanded, and we believe as we are baptized, and we hold as we believe; so

that with one accord our baptism, our faith, and our ascription of praise

are to(3) the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. But if any one

makes mention of two or three Gods, or of three God-heads, let him be

accursed. And if any, following the perversion of Arius, says that the Son or

the Holy Spirit were produced from things that are not, let him be accursed.

But as many as walk by the rule of truth and acknowledge the three Persons,

devoutly recognized in Their several properties, and believe that there is one

Godhead, one goodness, one rule, one authority and power, and neither make

void the supremacy of the Sole-sovereignty(4), nor fall away into polytheism,

nor confound the Persons, nor make up the Holy Trinity of heterogeneous and

unlike elements, but in simplicity receive the doctrine of the faith,

grounding all their hope of salvation upon the Father, the Son, and the Holy

Spirit,--these according to our judgment are of the same mind as we, and with

them we also trust to have part in the Lord.

LETTER III.

TO ABLABIUS(5).

THE Lord, as was meet and right, brought us safe through, accompanied as

we had been by your prayers, and I will tell you a manifest token of His

loving kindness. For when the sun was just over the spot which we left behind

Earsus(6), suddenly the clouds gathered thick, and there was a change from

clear sky to deep gloom. Then a chilly breeze blowing through the clouds,

bringing a drizzling with it, and striking upon us with a very damp feeling,

threatened such rain as had never yet been known, and on the left there were

continuous claps of thunder, and keen flashes of lightning alternated with the

thunder, following one crash and preceding the next, and all the mountains

before, behind, and on each side were shrouded in clouds. And already a

heavy(7) cloud hung over our heads, caught by a strong wind and big with rain,

and yet we, like the Israelites of old in their miraculous passage of the Red

Sea, though surrounded on all sides by rain, arrived unwetted at Vestena. And

when we had already found shelter there, and our mules had got a rest, then

the signal for the down-pour was given by God to the air. And when we had

spent some three or four hours there, and had rested enough, again God stayed

the down-fall, and our conveyance moved along more briskly than before, as the

wheel easily slid through the mud just moist and on the surface. Now the road

from that point to our little town is all along the river side, going down

stream with the water, and there is a continuous string of villages along the

banks, all close upon the road, and with very short distances between them. In

consequence of this unbroken line of habitations all the road was full of

people, some coming to meet us, and others escorting us, mingling tears in

abundance with their joy. Now there was a little drizzle, not unpleasant, lust

enough to moisten the air; but a little way before we

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got home the cloud that overhung us was condensed into a more violent shower,

so that our entrance was quite quiet, as no one was aware beforehand of our

coming. But just as we got inside our portico, as the sound of our carriage

wheels along the dry hard ground was heard, the people turned up in shoals, as

though by some mechanical contrivance, I know not whence nor how, flocking

round us so closely that it was not easy to get down from our conveyance, for

there was not a foot of clear space. But after we had persuaded them with

difficulty to allow us to get down, and to let our mules pass, we were crushed

on every side by folks crowding round, insomuch that their excessive kindness

all but made us faint. And when we were near the inside of the portico, we see

a stream of fire flowing into the church; for the choir of virgins, carrying

their wax torches in their hands, were just marching in file along the

entrance of the church, kindling the whole into splendour with their blaze.

And when I was within and had rejoiced and wept with my people--for I

experienced both emotions from witnessing both in the multitude,--as soon as I

had finished the prayers, I wrote off this letter to your Holiness as fast as

possible, under the pressure of extreme thirst, so that I might when it was

done attend to my bodily wants.

LETTER IV.

TO CYNEGIUS(8).

We have a law that bids us "rejoice with them that rejoice, and weep with

them that weep ": but of these commandments it often seems that it is in our

power to put only one into practice. For there is a great scarcity in the

world of "them that rejoice," so that it is not easy to find with whom we may

share our blessings, but there are plenty who are in the opposite case. I

write thus much by way of preface, because of the sad tragedy which some

spiteful power has been playing among people of long-standing nobility. A

young man of good family, Synesius by name, not unconnected with myself, in

the full flush of youth, who has scarcely begun to live yet, is in great

dangers, from which God alone has power to rescue him, and next to God, you,

who are entrusted with the decisions of all questions of life and death. An

involuntary mishap has taken place. Indeed, what mishap is voluntary? And now

those who have made up this suit against him, carrying with it the penalty of

death, have turned his mishap into matter of accusation. However, I will try

by private letters to soften their resentment and incline them to pity; but I

beseech your kindliness to side with justice and with us, that your

benevolence may prevail over the wretched plight of the youth, hunting up any

and every device by which the young man may be placed out of the reach of

danger, having conquered the spiteful power which assails him by the help of

your alliance. I have said all that I want in brief; but to go into details,

in order that my endeavour may be successful, would be to say what I have no

business to say, nor you to hear from me.

LETTER V.

A. TESTIMONIAL.

THAT for which the king of the Macedonians is most admired by people of

understanding,--for he is admired not so much for his famous victories(9) over

the Persians and Indians, and his penetrating as far the Ocean, as for his

saying that he had his treasure in his friends;--in this respect I dare to

compare myself with his marvellous exploits, and it will be right for me to

utter such a sentiment too. Now because I am rich in friendships, perhaps I

surpass in that kind of property even that great man who plumed himself upon

that very thing. For who was such a friend to him as you are to me,

perpetually endeavouring to surpass yourself in every kind of excellence? For

assuredly no one would ever charge me with flattery, when I say this, if he

were to look at my age and your life: for grey hairs are out of season for

flattery, and old age is ill-suited for complaisance, and as for you, even if

you are ever in season for flattery, yet praise would not fall under the

suspicion of flattery, is your life shows forth your praise before words. But

since, when men are rich in blessings, it is a special gift to know how to use

what one has, and the best use of superfluities is to let one's friends share

them with one, and since my be-

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loved son Alexander is most of all a friend united to me in all sincerity, be

persuaded to show him my treasure, and not only to show it to him, but also to

put it at his disposal to enjoy abundantly, by extending to him your

protection in those matters about which he has come to you, begging you to be

his patron. He will tell you all with his own lips. For it is better so than

that I should go into details in a letter.

LETTER VI.

TO STAGIRIUS.

THEY say that conjurors(10) in theatres contrive some such marvel as this

which I am going to describe. Having taken some historical narrative, or some

old story as the ground-plot of their sleight of hand, they relate the story

to the spectators in action. And it is in this way that they make their

representations of the narrative(1). They put on their dresses and masks, and

rig up something to resemble a town on the stage with hangings, and then so

associate the bare scene with their life-like imitation of action that they

are a marvel to the spectators--both the actors themselves of the incidents of

the play, and the hangings, or rather their imaginary city. What do I mean, do

you think, by this allegory? Since we must needs show to those who are coming

together that which is not a city as though it were one, do you let yourself

be persuaded to become for the nonce the founder of our city(2), by just

putting in an appearance there; I will make the desert-place seem to be a

city; now it is no great distance for you, and the favour which you will

confer is very great; for we wish to show ourselves more splendid to our

companions here, which we shall do if, in place of any other ornament, we are

adorned with the splendour of your party.

LETTER VII.

TO A FRIEND.

WHAT flower in spring is so bright, what voices of singing birds are so

sweet, what breezes that soothe the calm sea are so light and mild, what glebe

is so fragrant to the husbandman--whether it be teeming with green blades, or

waving with fruitful ears as is the spring of the soul, lit up with your

peaceful beams, from the radiance which shone m your letter, which raised our

life from despondency to gladness? For thus, perhaps, it will not be unfitting

to adapt the word of the prophet to our present blessings: "In the multitude

of the sorrows which I had in my heart, the comforts of God," by your

kindness, "have refreshed my soul,"(3) like sunbeams, cheering and warming our

life nipped by frost. For both reached the highest pitch--the severity of my

troubles, I mean, on the one side, and the sweetness of your favours on the

other. And if you have so gladdened us, by only sending us the joyful tidings

of your coming, that everything changed for us from extremest woe to a bright

condition, what will your precious and benign coming, even the sight of it,

do? what consolation will the sound of your sweet voice in our ears afford our

soul? May this speedily come to pass, by the good help of God, Who giveth

respite from pain to the fainting, and rest to the afflicted. But be assured,

that when we look at our own case we grieve exceedingly at the present state

of things, and men cease not to tear us in pieces(4): but when we turn our

eyes to your excellence, we own that we have great cause for thankfulness to

the dispensation of Divine Providence, that we are able to enjoy in your

neighbourhood(5) your sweetness and good-will towards us, and feast at will on

such food to satiety, if indeed there is such a thing as satiety of blessings

like these.

LETTER VIII(6).

TO A STUDENT OF THE CLASSICS.

WHEN I was looking for some suitable and proper exordium, I mean of course

from Holy Scripture, to put at the head of my letter, according to my usual

custom, I did not know which to choose, not from inability to find what was

suitable, but because I deemed it superfluous to write such things to those

who knew nothing about the matter. For your eager pursuit of profane

literature proved incontestably to us that you did not care about sacred.

Accordingly I will say nothing about Bible texts, but will select a prelude

adapted to your literary tastes taken from the poets you love so well. By the

great master of your education there is introduced one, showing all an old

man's joy, when after long affliction he once more beheld his son, and his

son's son as well.

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And the special theme of his exultation is the rivalry between the two,

Ulysses and Telemachus, for the highest meed of valour, though it is true that

the recollection of his own exploits against the Cephallenians adds to the

point of his speech(7). For you and your admirable father, when you welcomed

me, as they did Laertes, in your affection, contended in most honourable

rivalry for the prize of virtue, by showing us all possible respect and

kindness; he in numerous ways which I need not here mention, and you by

pelting me with(8) your letters from Cappadocia. What, then, of me the aged

one? I count that day one to be blessed, in which I witness such a competition

between father and son. May you, then, never cease from accomplishing the

rightful prayer of an excellent and admirable father, and surpassing in your

readiness to all good works the renown which from him you inherit. I shall be

a judge acceptable to both of you, as I shall award you the first prize

against your father, and the same to your father against you. And we will put

up with rough Ithaca, rough not so much with stones as with the manners of the

inhabitants, an island in which there are many suitors, who are suitors(9)

most of all for the possessions of her whom they woo, and insult their

intended bride by this very fact, that they threaten her chastity with

marriage, acting in a way worthy of a Melantho, one might say, or some other

such person; for nowhere is there a Ulysses to bring them to their senses with

his bow. You see how in an old man's fashion I go maundering off into matters

with which you have no concern. But pray let indulgence be readily extended to

me in consideration of my grey hairs; for garrulity is just as characteristic

of old age as to be blear-eyed, or for the limbs to fail(1). But you by

entertaining us with your brisk and lively language, like a bold young man as

you are, will make our old age young again, supporting the feebleness of our

length of days with this kind attention which so well becomes you.

LETTER IX.

AN INVITATION.

IT iS not the natural wont of spring to shine forth in its radiant beauty

all at once, but there come as preludes of spring the sunbeam gently warming

earth's frozen surface, and the bud half hidden beneath the clod, and breezes

blowing over the earth, so that the fertilizing and generative power of the

air penetrates deeply into it. One may see the fresh and tender grass, and the

return of birds which winter had banished, and many such tokens, which are

rather signs of spring, not spring itself. Not but that these are sweet,

because they are indications of what is sweetest. What is the meaning of all

that I have been saying? Why, since the expression of your kindness which

reached us in your letters, as a forerunner of the treasures contained in you,

with a goodly prelude brings the glad tidings of the blessing which we expect

at your hands, we both welcome the boon which those letters convey, like some

first-appearing flower of spring, and pray that we may soon enjoy in you the

full beauty of the season. For, be well assured, we have been deeply, deeply

distressed by the passions and spite of the people here, and their ways; and

just as ice forms in cottages after the rains that come in--for I will draw my

comparison from the weather of our part of the world(2),--and so moisture,

when it gets in, if it spreads over the surface that is already frozen,

becomes congealed about the ice, and an addition is made to the mass already

existing, even so one may notice much the same kind of thing in the character

of most of the people in this neighbourhood, how they are always plotting and

inventing something spiteful, and a fresh mischief is congealed on the top of

that which has been wrought before, and another one on the top of that, and

then again another, and this goes on without intermission, and there is no

limit to their hatred and to the increase of evils; so that we have great need

of many prayers that the grace of the Spirit may speedily breathe upon them,

and thaw the bitterness of their hatred, and melt the frost that is hardening

upon them from their malice. For this cause the spring, sweet as it is by

nature, becomes yet more to be desired than ever to those

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who after such storms look for you. Let not the boon, then, linger. Especially

as our great holiday(3) is approaching, it would be more reasonable that the

land which bare you should exult in her own treasures than that Pontus should

in ours. Come then, dear one, bringing us a multitude of blessings, even

yourself; for this will fill up the measure of our beatitude

LETTER X(4).

TO LIBANIUS.

I ONCE heard a medical man tell of a wonderful freak of nature. And this

was his story. A man was ill of an unmanageable complaint, and began to find

fault with the medical faculty, as being able to do far less than it

professed; for everything that was devised for his cure was ineffectual.

Afterwards when some good news beyond his hopes was brought him, the

occurrence did the work of the healing art, by putting an end to his disease.

Whether it were that the soul by the overflowing sense of release from

anxiety, and by a sudden rebound, disposed the body to be in the same

condition as itself, or in some other way, I cannot say: for I have no leisure

to enter upon such disquisitions, and the person who told me did not specify

the cause. But I have just called to mind the story very seasonably, as I

think: for when I was not as well as I could wish--now I need not tell you

exactly the causes of all the worries which befel me from the time I was with

you to the present,--after some one told me all at once of the letter which

had arrived from your unparalleled Erudition, as soon as I got the epistle and

ran over what you had written, forthwith, first my soul was affected in the

same way as though I had been proclaimed before all the world as the hero of

most glorious achievements--so highly did I value the testimony which you

favoured me with in your letter,--and then also my bodily health immediately

began to improve: and I afford an example of the same marvel as the story

which I told you just now, in that I was ill when I read one half of the

letter, and well when I read the other half of the same. Thus much for those

matters. But now, since Cynegius was the occasion of that favour, you are

able, in the overflowing abundance of your ability to do good, not only to

benefit us, but also our benefactors; and he is a benefactor of ours, as has

been said before, by having been the cause and occasion of our having a letter

from you; and for this reason he well deserves both our good offices. But if

you ask who are our teachers,--if indeed we are thought to have learned

anything,--you will find that they are Paul and John, and the rest of the

Apostles and Prophets; if I do not seem to speak too boldly in claiming any

knowledge of that art in which you so excel, that competent judges declares

that the rules of oratory stream down from you, as from an overflowing spring,

upon all who have any pretensions to excellence in that department. This I

have heard the admirable Basil say to everybody, Basil, who was your disciple,

but my father and teacher. But be assured, first, that I found no rich

nourishment in the precepts of my teachers(6), inasmuch as I enjoyed my

brother's society only for a short time, and got only just enough polish from

his diviner tongue to be able to discern the ignorance of those who are

uninitiated in oratory; next, however, that whenever I had leisure, I devoted

my time and energies to this study, and so became enamoured of your beauty,

though I never yet obtained the object of my passion. If, then, on the one

side we never had a teacher, which I deem to have been our case, and if on the

other it is improper to suppose that the opinion which you entertain of us is

other than the true one--nay, you are correct in your statement, and we are

not quite contemptible in your judgment,--give me leave to presume to

attribute to you the cause of such proficiency as we may have attained. For if

Basil was the author of our oratory, and if his wealth came from your

treasures, then what we possess is yours, even though we received it through

others. But if our attainments are scanty, so is the water in a jar; still it

comes from the Nile.

LETTER XI.

TO LIBANIUS.

IT was a custom with the Romans(7) to celebrate a feast in winter-time,

after the custom of

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their fathers, when the length of the days begins to draw out, as the sun

climbs to the upper regions of the sky. Now the beginning of the month is

esteemed holy, and by this day auguring the character of the whole year, they

devote themselves to forecasting lucky accidents, gladness, and wealth(8).

What is my object in beginning my letter in this way? Why, I do so because I

too kept this feast, having got my present of gold as well as any of them; for

then there came into my hands as well as theirs gold, not like that vulgar

gold, which potentates treasure and which those that have it give,--that

heavy, vile, and soulless possession,--but that which is loftier than all

wealth, as Pindar says(9), in the eyes of those that have sense, being the

fairest presentation, I mean your letter, and the vast wealth which it

contained. For thus it happened; that on that day, as I was going to the

metropolis of the Cappadocians, I met an acquaintance, who handed me this

present, your letter, as a new year's gift. And I, being overjoyed at the

occurrence, threw open my treasure to all who were present; and all shared in

it each getting the whole of it, without any rivalry, and I was none the worse

off. For the letter by passing through the hands of all, like a ticket for a

feast, is the private wealth of each, some by steady continuous reading

engraving the words upon their memory, and others taking an impression(10) of

them upon tablets; and it was again in my hands, giving me more pleasure than

the hard(1) metal does to the eyes of the rich. Since, then, even to

husbandmen--to use a homely comparison--approbation of the labours which they

have already accomplished is a strong stimulus to those which follow, bear

with us if we treat what you have yourself given as so much seed, and if we

write that we may provoke you to write back. But I beg of you a public and

general boon for our life; that you will no longer entertain the purpose which

you expressed to us in a dark hint at the end of your letter For I do not

think that it is at all a fair decision to come to, that,--because there are

some who disgrace themselves by deserting from the Greek language to the

barbarian, becoming mercenary soldiers and choosing a soldier's rations

instead of the renown of eloquence,--you should therefore condemn oratory

altogether, and sentence human life to be as voiceless as that of beasts. For

who is he who will open his lips, if you carry into effect this severe

sentence against oratory? But perhaps it will be well to remind you of a

passage in our Scriptures. For our Word bids those that can to do good, not

looking at the tempers of those who receive the benefit, so as to be eager to

benefit only those who are sensible of kindness, while we close our

beneficence to the unthankful, but rather to imitate the Disposer of all, Who

distributes the good things of His creation alike to all, to the good and to

the evil. Having regard to this, admirable Sir, show yourself in your way of

life such an one as the time past has displayed you. For those who do not see

the sun do not thereby hinder the sun's existence. Even so neither is it right

that the beams of your eloquence should be dimmed, because of those who are

purblind as to the perceptions of the soul. But as for Cynegius, I pray that

he may be as far as possible from the common malady, which now has seized upon

young men; and that he will devote himself of his own accord to the study of

rhetoric. But if he is otherwise disposed, it is only right, even if he be

unwilling, he should be forced to it; so as to avoid the unhappy and

discreditable plight in which they now are, who have previously abandoned the

pursuit of oratory.

LETTER XII(2).

ON HIS WORK AGAINST EUNOMIUS.

WE Cappadocians are poor in well-nigh all things that make the possessors

of them happy, but above all we are badly off for people who are able to

write. This, be sure, is the reason why I am so slow about sending you a

letter: for, though my reply to the heresy(of Eunomius) had been long ago

completed, there was no one to transcribe it. Such a dearth of writers it was

that brought upon us the suspicion of sluggishness or of inability to frame an

answer. But since now at any rate, thank God, the writer and reviser have

come, I have sent this treatise to you; not, as Isocrates says(3), as a

present, for I do not reckon it to be such that it should be received in lieu

of something of substantial value, but that it may be in our power to cheer on

those who are in the full vigour of youth to do battle with the enemy, by

stirring up the naturally sanguine temperament of early life. But if any

portion of the treatise should appear worthy of serious consideration, after

examining some parts, especially those prefatory to the "trials,"(4) and those

which are of the same cast, and perhaps also some

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of the doctrinal parts of the book, you will think them not ungratefully

composed. But to whatever conclusion you come, you will of course read them,

as to a teacher and corrector, to those who do not act like the players at

ball(5), when they stand in three different places and throw it from one to

the other, aiming it exactly and catching one ball from one and one from

another, and they baffle the player who is in the middle, as he jumps up to

catch it, pretending that they are going to throw with a made-up expression of

face, and such and such a motion of the hand to left or right, and whichever

way they see him hurrying, they send the ball just the contrary way, and cheat

his expectation by a trick. This holds even now in the case of most of us,

who, dropping all serious purpose, play at being good-natured(6), as if at

ball, with men, instead of realizing the favourable hope which we hold out,

beguiling to sinister(7) issues the souls of those who repose confidence in

us. Letters of reconciliation, caresses, tokens, presents, affectionate

embrace by letters--these are the making as if to throw with the ball to the

right. But instead of the pleasure which one expects therefrom, one gets

accusations, plots, slanders, disparagement, charges brought against one, bits

of a sentence torn from their context, caught up, and turned to one's hurt.

Blessed in your hopes are ye, who through all such trials exercise confidence

towards God, But we beseech you not to look at our words, but to the teaching

of our Lord in the Gospel. For what consolation to one in anguish can another

be, who surpasses him in the extremity of his own anguish, to help his

luckless fortunes to obtain their proper issue? As He saith, "Vengeance is

Mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." But do you, best of men, go on in a

manner worthy of yourself, and trust in God, and do not be hindered by the

spectacle of our misfortunes from being good and true, but commit to God that

judgeth righteously the suitable and just issue of events, and act as Divine

wisdom guides you. Assuredly Joseph had in the result no reason to grieve at

the envy of his brethren, inasmuch as the malice of his own kith and kin

became to him the road to empire.

LETTER XIII.

TO THE CHURCH AT NIICOMEDIA(8).

MAY the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, Who disposeth all

things in wisdom for the best, visit you by His own grace, and comfort you by

Himself, working in you that which is well-pleasing to Him, and may the grace

of our Lord Jesus Christ come upon you, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit,

that ye may have healing of all tribulation and affliction, and advance

towards all good, for the perfecting of the Church, for the edification of

your souls, and to the praise of the glory of His name. But in making here a

defence of ourselves before your charity, we would say that we were not

neglectful to render an account of the charge entrusted to us, either in time

past, or since the departure hence of Patricius of blessed memory; but we

insist that there were many troubles in our Church, and the decay of our

bodily powers was great, increasing, as was natural, with advancing years; and

great also was the remissness of your Excellency towards us, inasmuch as no

word ever came by letter to induce us to undertake the task, nor was any

connection kept up between your Church and ourselves, although Euphrasius,

your Bishop of blessed memory, had in all holiness bound together our Humility

to himself and to you with love, as with chains. But even though the debt of

love has not been satisfied before, either by our taking charge of you, or

your Piety's encouragement of us, now at any rate we pray to God, taking your

prayer to God as an ally to our own desire, that we may with all speed

possible visit you, and be comforted along with you, and along with you show

diligence, as the Lord may direct us; so as to discover a means of rectifying

the disorders which have already found place, and of securing safety for the

future, so that you may no longer be distracted by this discord, one

withdrawing himself from the Church in one direction, another in another, and

be thereby exposed as a laughing-stock to the Devil, whose desire and business

it is (in direct contrariety to the Divine will) that no one should be saved,

or come to the knowledge of the truth. For how do you think, brethren, that we

were afflicted upon hearing from those who reported to us your state, that

there was no return to better things(9); but that the resolution

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of those who had once swerved aside is ever carried along in the same course;

and--as water from a conduit often overflows the neighbouring bank, and

streaming off sideways, flows away, and unless the leak is stopped, it is

almost impossible to recall it to its channel, when the submerged ground has

been hollowed out in accordance with the course of the stream,--even so the

course of those who have left the Church, when it has once through personal

motives deflected from the straight and right faith, has sunk deep in the rut

of habit, and does not easily return to the grace it once had. For which cause

your affairs demand a wise and strong administrator, who is skilled to guide

such wayward tempers aright, so as to be able to recall to its pristine beauty

the disorderly circuit of this stream, that the corn-fields of your piety may

once again flourish abundantly, watered by the irrigating stream of peace. For

this reason great diligence and fervent desire on the part of you all is

needed for this matter, that such an one may be appointed your President by

the Holy Spirit, who will have a single eye to the things of God alone, not

turning his glance this way or that to any of those things that men strive

after. For for this cause I think that the ancient law gave the Levite no

share in the general inheritance of the land; that he might have God alone for

the portion of his possession, and might always be engaged about the

possession in himself, with no eye to any material object.

[What follows is unintelligible, and something has probably been lost.]

For it is not lawful that the simple should meddle with that with which

they have no concern, but which properly belongs to others. For you should

each mind your own business, that so that which is most expedient may come

about [and that your Church may again prosper], when those who have been

dispersed have returned again to the unit of the one body, and spiritual peace

is established by those who devoutly glorify God. To this end it is well, I

think, to look out for high qualifications in your election, that he who is

appointed to the Presidency may be suitable for the post. Now the Apostolic

injunctions do not direct us to look to high birth, wealth, and distinction in

the eyes of the world among the virtues of a Bishop; but if all this should,

unsought, accompany your spiritual chiefs, we do not reject it, but consider

it merely as a shadow accidentally(10) following the body; and none the less

shall we welcome the more precious endowments, even though they happen to be

apart from those boons of fortune. The prophet Amos was a goat-herd; Peter was

a fisherman, and his brother Andrew followed the same employment; so too was

the sublime John; Paul was a tent-maker, Matthew a publican, and the rest of

the Apostles in the same way--not consuls, generals, prefects, or

distinguished in rhetoric and philosophy, but poor, and of none of the learned

professions, but starting from the more humble occupations of life: and yet

for all that their voice went out into all the earth, and their words unto the

ends of the world. "Consider your calling, brethren, that not many wise after

the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble are called, but God hath chosen the

foolish things of the world(11)." Perhaps even now it is thought something

foolish, as things appear to men, when one is not able to do much from

poverty, or is slighted because of meanness of extraction(1), not of

character. But who knows whether the horn of anointing is not poured out by

grace upon such an one, even though he be less than the lofty and more

illustrious? Which was mere to the interest of the Church at Rome, that it

should at its commencement be presided over by some high-born and pompous

senator, or by the fisherman Peter, who had none of this world's advantages to

attract men to him(2)? What house had he, what slaves, what property

ministering luxury, by wealth constantly flowing in? But that stranger,

without a table, without a roof over his head, was richer than those who have

all things, because through having nothing he had God wholly. So too the

people of Mesopotamia, though they had among them wealthy satraps, preferred

Thomas above them all to the presidency of their Church; the Cretans preferred

Titus, the dwellers at Jerusalem James, and we Cappadocians the centurion, who

at the Cross acknowledged the Godhead of the Lord, though there were many at

that time of splendid lineage, whose fortunes enabled them to maintain a stud,

and who prided themselves upon having the first place in the Senate. And in

all the Church one may see those who are great according to God's standard

preferred above worldly magnificence. You too, I think, ought to have an eye

to these spiritual qualifications at this time present, if you really mean to

revive the ancient glory of your Church. For nothing is better known to you

than your own history, that anciently, before the city near you(3) flourished,

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the seat of government was with you, and among Bithynian cities there was

nothing pre-eminent above yours. And now, it is true, the public buildings

that once graced it have disappeared, but the city that consists in

men--whether we look to numbers or to quality --is rapidly rising to a level

with its former splendour. Accordingly it would well become you to entertain

thoughts that shall not fall below the height of the blessings that now are

yours, but to raise your enthusiasm in the work before you to the height of

the magnificence of your city, that you may find such a one to preside over

the laity as will prove himself not unworthy of you(4). For it is disgraceful,

brethren, and utterly monstrous, that while no one ever becomes a pilot unless

he is skilled in navigation, he who sits at the helm of the Church should not

know how to bring the souls of those who sail with him safe into the haven of

God. How many wrecks of Churches, men and all, have ere now taken place by the

inexperience of their heads! Who can reckon what disasters might not have been

avoided, had there been aught of the pilot's skill in those who had command?

Nay, we entrust iron, to make vessels with, not to those who know nothing

about the matter, but to those who are acquainted with the art of the smith;

ought we not therefore to trust souls to him who is well-skilled to soften

them by the fervent heat of the Holy Spirit, and who by the impress of

rational implements may fashion each one of you to be a chosen and useful

vessel? It is thus that the inspired Apostle bids us to take thought, in his

Epistle to Timothy(5), laying injunction upon all who hear, when he says that

a Bishop must be without reproach. Is this all that the Apostle cares for,

that he who is advanced to the priesthood should be irreproachable? and what

is so great an advantage as that all possible qualifications should be

included in one? But he knows full well that the subject is moulded by the

character of his superior, and that the upright walk of the guide becomes that

of his followers too. For what the Master is, such does he make the disciple

to be. For it is impossible that he who has been apprenticed to the art of the

smith should practise that of the weaver, or that one who has only been taught

to work at the loom should turn out an orator or a mathematician: but on the

contrary that which the disciple sees in his master he adopts and transfers to

himself. For this reason it is that the Scripture says, "Every disciple that

is perfect shall be as his master(6)." What then, brethren? Is it possible to

be lowly and subdued in character, moderate, superior to the love of lucre,

wise in things divine, and trained to virtue and considerateness in works and

ways, without seeing those qualities in one's master? Nay, I do not know how a

man can become spiritual, if he has been a disciple in a worldly school. For

how can they who are striving to resemble their master fail to be like him?

What advantage is the magnificence of the aqueduct to the thirsty, if there is

no water in it, even though the symmetrical disposition of columns(7)

variously shaped rear aloft the pediment(8)? Which would the thirsty man

rather choose for the supply of his own need, to see marbles beautifully

disposed or to find good spring water, even if it flowed through a wooden

pipe, as long as the stream which it poured forth was clear and drinkable?

Even so, brethren, those who look to godliness should neglect the trappings of

outward show, and whether a man exults in powerful friends, or plumes himself

on the long list of his dignities, or boasts that he receives large annual

revenues, or is puffed up with the thought of his noble ancestry, or has his

mind on all sides clouded(9) with the fumes of self-esteem, should have

nothing to do with such an one, any more than with a dry aqueduct, if he

display not in his life the primary and essential qualities for high office.

But, employing the lamp of the Spirit for the search(10), you should, as far

as is possible, seek for "a garden enclosed, a fountain sealed(11)," that, by

your election the garden of delight having been opened and the water of the

fountain having been unstopped, there may be a common acquisition to the

Catholic Church. May God grant that there may soon be found among you such an

one, who shall be a chosen vessel, a pillar of the Church. But we trust in the

Lord that so it will be, if you are minded by the grace of concord with one

mind to see that which is good, preferring to your own wills the will of the

Lord, and that which is approved of Him, and perfect, and well-pleasing in His

eyes; that there may be such a happy issue among you, that therein

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we may rejoice, and you triumph, and the God of all be glorified, Whom glory

becometh for ever and ever.

LETTER XIV(12).

TO THE BISHOP OF MELITENE.

How beautiful are the likenesses of beautiful objects, when they preserve

in all its clearness the impress of the original beauty! For of your soul, so

truly beautiful, I saw a most clear image in the sweetness of your letter,

which, as the Gospel says, "out of the abundance of the heart" you filled with

honey. And for this reason I fancied I saw you in person, and enjoyed your

cheering company, from the affection expressed in your letter; and often

taking your letter into my hands and going over it again from beginning to

end, I only came more vehemently to crave for the enjoyment, and there was no

sense of satiety. Such a feeling can no more put an end to my pleasure, than

it can to that derived from anything that is by nature beautiful and precious.

For neither has our constant participation of the benefit blunted the edge of

our longing to behold the sun, nor does the unbroken enjoyment of health

prevent our desiring its continuance; and we are persuaded that it is equally

impossible for our enjoyment of your goodness, which we have often experienced

face to face and now by letter, ever to reach the point of satiety. But our

case is like that of those who from some circumstance are afflicted with

unquenchable thirst; for just in the same way, the more we taste your

kindness, the more thirsty we become. But unless you suppose our language to

be mere blandishment and unreal flattery--and assuredly you will not so

suppose, being what you are in all else, and to us especially good and

staunch, if any one ever was,--you will certainly believe what I say; that the

favour of your letter, applied to my eyes like some medical prescription,

stayed my ever-flowing "fountain of tears," and that fixing our hopes on the

medicine of your holy prayers, we expect that soon and completely the disease

of our soul will be healed: though, for the present at any rate, we are in

such a case, that we spare the ears of one who is fond of us, and bury the

truth in silence, that we may not drag those who loyally love us into

partnership with our troubles. For when we consider that, bereft of what is

dearest to us, we are involved in wars, and that it is our children that we

were compelled to leave behind, our children whom we were counted worthy to

bear to God in spiritual pangs, closely joined to us by the law of love, who

at the time of their own trials amid their afflictions extended their

affection to us; and over and above these, a fondly-loved(1) home, brethren,

kinsmen, companions, intimate associates, friends, hearth, table, cellar, bed,

seat, sack, converse, tears--and how sweet these are, and how dearly prized

from long habit, I need not write to you who know full well--but not to weary

you further, consider for yourself what I have in exchange for those

blessings. Now that I am at the end of my life, I begin to live again, and am

compelled to learn the graceful versatility of character which is now in

vogue: but we are late learners in the shifty school of knavery;(2) so that we

are constantly constrained to blush at our awkwardness and inaptitude for this

new study. But our adversaries. equipped with all the training of this wisdom,

are well able to keep what they have learned, and to invent what they have not

learned. Their method of warfare accordingly is to skirmish at a distance, and

then at a preconcerted signal to form their phalanx in solid order; they utter

by way of prelude(3) whatever suits their interests, they execute surprises by

means of exaggerations, they surround themselves with allies from every

quarter. But a vast amount of cunning invincible in power(4) accompanies them,

advanced before them to lead their host, like some right-and-left-handed

combatant, fighting with both hands in front of his army, on one side levying

tribute upon his subjects, on the other smiting those who come in his way. But

if you care to inquire into the state of our internal affairs, you will find

other troubles to match; a stifling hut, abundant in cold, gloom, confinement,

and all such advantages; a life the mark of every one's censorious

observation, the voice, the look, the way of wearing one's cloak, the movement

of the hands, the position of one's feet, and everything else, all a subject

for busy-bodies. And unless one from time to time emits a deep breathing, and

unless a continuous groaning is uttered with the breathing, and unless the

tunic passes gracefully through the girdle (not to mention the very disuse of

the girdle itself), and unless our cloak flows aslant down our backs--the

omission of any one of these niceties is a pretext for war against

539

us. And on such grounds as these, they gather together to battle against us,

man by man(5), township by township, even down to all sorts of out-of-the-way

places. Well, one cannot be always faring well or always ill, for every one's

life is made up of contraries. But if by God's grace your help should stand

by us steadily, we will bear the abundance of annoyances, in the hope of

being always a sharer in your goodness. May you, then, never cease bestowing

on us such favours, that by them you may refresh us, and prepare for yourself

in ampler measure the reward promised to them that keep the commandments.

LETTER XV.

TO ADELPHIUS THE LAWYER(6)

I WRITE you this letter from the sacred Vanota, if I do not do the place

injustice by giving it its local title:--do it injustice, I say, because in

its name it shows no polish. At the same time the beauty of the place, great

as it is, is not conveyed by this Galatian epithet eyes are needed to

interpret its beauty. For I, though I have before this seen much, and that in

many places, and have also observed many things by means of verbal description

in the accounts of old writers, think both all I have seen, and all of which I

have heard, of no account in comparison with the loveliness that is to be

found here. Your Helicon is nothing the Islands of the Blest are a fable: the

Sicyonian plain is a trifle: the accounts of the Peneus are another case of

poetic exaggeration--that river which they say by overflowing with its rich

current the banks which flank its course makes for the Thessalians their

far-famed Tempe. Why, what beauty is there in any one of these places I have

mentioned, such as Vanota can show us of its own? For if one seeks for natural

beauty in the place, it needs none of the adornments of art: and if one

considers what has been done for it by artificial aid, there has been so much

done, and that so well, as might overcome even natural disadvantages. The

gifts bestowed upon the spot by Nature who beautifies the earth with unstudied

grace are such as these: below, the river Halys makes the place fair to look

upon with his banks, and gleams like a golden ribbon through their deep

purple, reddening his current with the soil he washes down. Above, a mountain

densely overgrown with wood stretches with its long ridge, covered at all

points with the foliage of oaks, worthy of finding some Homer to sing its

praises more than that Ithacan Neritus, which the poet calls "far-seen with

quivering leaves(7)." But the natural growth of wood, as it comes down the

hill-side, meets at the foot the planting of men's husbandry. For forthwith

vines, spread out over the slopes, and swellings, and hollows at the

mountain's base, cover with their colour, like a green mantle, all the lower

ground: and the season at this time even added to their beauty, displaying its

grape-clusters wonderful to behold. Indeed this caused me yet more surprise,

that while the neighbouring country shows fruit still unripe, one might here

enjoy the full clusters, and be sated with their perfection. Then, far off,

like a watch-fire from some great beacon, there shone before our eyes the fair

beauty of the buildings. On the left as we entered was the chapel built for

the martyrs, not yet complete in its structure, but still lacking the roof,

yet making a good show notwithstanding. Straight before us in the way were the

beauties of the house, where one part is marked out from another by some

delicate invention. There were projecting towers, and preparations for

banqueting among the wide and high-arched rows of trees crowning the entrance

before the gates(8). Then about the buildings are the Phaeacian gardens;

rather, let not the beauties of Vanota be insulted by comparison with those

Homer never saw "the apple with bright fruit(9)" as we have it here,

approaching to the hue of its own blossom in the exceeding brilliancy of its

colouring: he never saw the pear whiter than new-polished ivory. And what can

one say of the varieties of the peach, diverse and multiform, yet blended and

compounded out of different species? For just as with those who paint

"goat-stags," and "centaurs," and the like, commingling things of different

kind, and making themselves wiser than Nature, so it is in the case of this

fruit: Nature, under the despotism of art, turns one to an almond, an-

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other to a walnut, yet another to a "Doracinus(1)," mingled alike in name and

in flavour. And in all these the number of single trees is more noted than

their beauty; yet they display tasteful arrangement in their planting, and

that harmonious form of drawing--drawing, I call it, for the marvel belongs

rather to the painter's art than to the gardener's. So readily does Nature

fall in with the design of those who arrange these devices, that it seems

impossible to express this by words. Who could find words worthily to describe

the road under the climbing vines, and the sweet shade of their cluster, and

that novel wall-structure where roses with their shoots, and vines with their

trailers, twist themselves together and make a fortification that serves as a

wall against a flank attack, and the pond at the summit of this path, and the

fish that are bred there? As regards all these, the people who have charge of

your Nobility's house were ready to act as our guides with a certain ingenuous

kindliness, and pointed them out to us, showing us each of the things you had

taken pains about, as if it were yourself to whom, by our means, they were

showing courtesy. There too, one of the lads, like a conjuror, showed us such

a wonder as one does not very often find in nature: for he went down to the

deep water and brought up at will such of the fish as he selected; and they

seemed no strangers to the fisherman's touch, being tame and submissive under

the artist's hands, like well-trained dogs. Then they led me to a house as if

to rest--a house, I call it, for such the entrance betokened, but, when we

came inside, it was not a house but a portico which received us. The portico

was raised up aloft to a great height over a deep pool: the basement

supporting the portico of triangular shape, like a gateway leading to the

delights within, was washed by the water. Straight before us in the interior a

sort of house occupied the vertex of the triangle, with lofty roof, lit on all

sides by the sun's rays, and decked with varied paintings; so that this spot

almost made us forget what had preceded it. The house attracted us to itself;

and again, the portico on the pool was a unique sight. For the excellent fish

would swim up from the depths to the surface, leaping up into the very air

like winged things, as though purposely mocking us creatures of the dry land.

For showing half their form and tumbling through the air, they plunged once

more into the depth. Others, again, in shoals, following one another in order,

were a sight for unaccustomed eyes: while in another place one might see

another shoal packed in a cluster round a morsel of bread, pushed aside one by

another, and here one leaping up, there another diving downwards. But even

this we were made to forget by the grapes that were brought us in baskets of

twisted shoots, by the varied bounty of the season's fruit, the preparation

for breakfast, the varied dainties, and savoury dishes, and sweetmeats, and

drinking of healths, and wine-cups. So now since I was sated and inclined to

sleep, I got a scribe posted beside me, and sent to your Eloquence, as if it

were a dream, this chattering letter. But I hope to recount in full to

yourself and your friends, not with paper and ink, but with my own voice and

tongue, the beauties of your home.

LETTER XVI.

TO AMPHILOCHIUS.

I AM well persuaded that by God's grace the business of the Church of the

Martyrs is in a fair way. Would that you were willing in the matter. The task

we have in hand will find its end by the power of God, Who is able, wherever

He speaks, to turn word into deed. Seeing that, as the Apostle says, "He Who

has begun a good work will also perform it(2)", I would exhort you in this

also to be an imitator of the great Paul, and to advance our hope to actual

fulfilment, and send us so many workmen as may suffice for the work we have in

hand.

Your Perfection might perhaps be informed by calculation of the dimensions

to which the total work will attain: and to this end I will endeavour to

explain the whole structure by a verbal description. The form of the chapel is

a cross, which has its figure completed throughout, as you would expect, by

four structures. The junctions of the buildings intercept one another, as we

see everywhere in the cruciform pattern. But within the cross there lies a

circle, divided by eight angles(I call the octagonal figure a circle in view

of its circumference), in such wise that the two pairs of sides of the octagon

which are diametrically opposed to one another, unite by means of arches the

central circle to the adjoining blocks of building; while the other four sides

of the octagon, which lie between the quadrilateral buildings, will not

themselves be carried to meet the buildings, but upon each of them will be

described a semicircle like a shell(3), terminating in an arch above: so that

the arches will be eight in all, and by their means the quadrilateral and

semicircular buildings will be connected, side by side, with the central

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structure. In the blocks of masonry formed by the angles there will be an

equal number of pillars, at once for ornament and for strength, and these

again will carry arches built of equal size to correspond with those

within(4). And above these eight arches, with the symmetry of an upper range

of windows, the octagonal building will be raised to the height of four

cubits: the part rising from it will be a cone shaped like a top, as the

vaulting s narrows the figure of the roof from its full width to a pointed

wedge. The dimensions below will be,--the width of each of the quadrilateral

buildings, eight cubits, the length of them half as much again, the height as

much as the proportion of the width allows. It will be as much in the

semicircles also. The whole length between the piers extends in the same way

to eight cubits, and the depth will be as much as will be given by the sweep

of the compasses with the fixed point placed in the middle of the side(6) and

extending to the end. The height will be determined in this case too by the

proportion to the width. And the thickness of the wall, an interval of three

feet from inside these spaces, which are measured internally, will run round

the whole building.

I have troubled your Excellency with this serious trifling, with this

intention, that by the thickness of the walls, and by the intermediate spaces,

you may accurately ascertain what sum the number of feet gives as the

measurement; because your intellect is exceedingly quick in all matters, and

makes its way, by God's grace, in whatever subject you will, and it is

possible for you, by subtle calculation, to ascertain the sum made up by all

the parts, so as to send us masons neither more nor fewer than our need

requires. And I beg you to direct your attention specially to this point, that

some of them may be skilled in making vaulting(7) without supports: for I am

informed that when built in this way it is more durable than what is made to

rest on props. It is the scarcity of wood that brings us to this device of

roofing the whole fabric with stone; because the place supplies no timber for

roofing. Let your unerring mind be persuaded, because some of the people here

contract with me to furnish thirty workmen for a staler, for the dressed

stonework, of course with a specified ration along with the stater. But the

material of our masonry is not of this sort(8), but brick made of clay and

chance stones, so that they do not need to spend time in fitting the faces of

the stones accurately together. I know that so far as skill and fairness in

the matter of wages are concerned, the workmen in your neighbourhood are

better for our purpose than those who follow the trade here. The sculptor's

work lies not only in the eight pillars, which must themselves be improved and

beautified, but the work requires altar-like base-mouldings(9), and capitals

carved in the Corinthian style. The porch, too, will be of marbles wrought

with appropriate ornaments. The doors set upon these will be adorned with some

such designs as are usually employed by way of embellishment at the projection

of the cornice. Of all these, of course, we shall furnish the materials; the

form to be impressed on the materials art will bestow. Besides these there

will be in the colonnade not less than forty pillars: these also will be of

wrought stone. Now if my account has explained the work in detail, I hope it

may be possible for your Sanctity, on perceiving what is needed, to relieve us

completely from anxiety so far as the workmen are concerned. If, however, the

workman were inclined to make a bargain favourable to us, let a distinct

measure of work, if possible, be fixed for the day, so that he may not pass

his time doing nothing, and then, though he has no work to show for it, as

having worked for us so many days, demand payment for them. I know that we

shall appear to most people to be higglers, in being so particular about the

contracts. But I beg you to pardon me; for that Mammon about whom I have so

often said such hard things, has at last departed from me as far as he can

possibly go, being disgusted, I suppose, at the nonsense that is constantly

talked against him, and has fortified himself against me by an impassable

gulf--to wit, poverty--so that neither can he come to me, nor can I pass to

him(10). This is why I make a point of the fairness of the workmen, to the end

that we may be able to fulfil the task before us, and not be hindered by

poverty--that laudable and desirable evil. Well, in all this there is a

certain admixture of jest. But do you, man of God, in such ways as are

possible and legitimate, boldly promise in bargaining with the men that they

will all meet with fair treatment at our hands, and full payment of their

wages: for we shall give all and keep back nothing, as God also opens to us,

by your prayers, His hand of blessing.

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LETTER XVII.

TO EUSTATHIA, AMBROSIA, AND BASILISSA(1)

To the most discreet and devout Sisters, Eustathia and Ambrosia, and to the

most discreet and noble Daughter, Basilissa, Gregory sends greeting in the

Lord.

The meeting with the good and the beloved, and the memorials of the

immense love of the Lord for us men, which are shown in your localities, have

been the source to me of the most intense joy and gladness. Doubly indeed have

these shone upon divinely festal days; both in beholding the saving tokens(2)

of the God who gave us life, and in meeting with souls in whom the tokens of

the Lord's grace are to be discerned spiritually in such clearness, that one

can believe that Bethlehem and Golgotha, and Olivet, and the scene of the

Resurrection are really in the God-containing heart. For when through a good

conscience Christ has been formed in any, when any has by dint of godly fear

nailed down the promptings of the flesh and become crucified to Christ, when

any has rolled away from himself the heavy stone of this world's illusions,

and coming forth from the grave of the body has begun to walk as it were in a

newness of life, abandoning this low-lying valley of human life, and mounting

with a soaring desire to that heavenly country(3) with all its elevated

thoughts, where Christ is, no longer feeling the body's burden, but lifting it

by chastity, so that the flesh with cloud-like lightness accompanies the

ascending soul--such an one, in my opinion, is to be counted in the number of

those famous ones in whom the memorials of the Lord's love for us men are to

be seen. When, then, I not only saw with the sense of sight those Sacred

Places, but I saw the tokens of places like them, plain in yourselves as well,

I was filled with joy so great that the description of its blessing is beyond

the power of utterance. But because it is a difficult, not to say an

impossible thing for a human being to enjoy unmixed with evil any blessing,

therefore something of bitterness was mingled with the sweets I tasted: and by

this, after the enjoyment of those blessings, I was saddened in my journey

back to my native land, estimating now the truth of the Lord's words, that

"the whole world lieth in wickedness(4)," so that no single part of the

inhabited earth is without its share of degeneracy. For if the spot itself

that has received the footprints of the very Life is not clear of the wicked

thorns, what are we to think of other places where communion with the Blessing

has been inculcated by hearing and preaching alone(5). With what view I say

this, need not be explained more fully in words; facts themselves proclaim

more loudly than any speech, however intelligible, the melancholy truth.

The Lawgiver of our life has enjoined upon us one single hatred. I mean,

that of the Serpent: for no other purpose has He bidden us exercise this

faculty of hatred, but as a resource against wickedness. "I will put enmity,"

He says, "between thee and him." Since wickedness is a complicated and

multifarious thing, the Word allegorizes it by the Serpent, the dense array of

whose scales is symbolic of this multiformity of evil. And we by working the

will of our Adversary make an alliance with this serpent, and so turn this

hatred against one another(6), and perhaps not against ourselves alone, but

against Him Who gave the commandment; for He says, "Thou shalt love thy

neighbour and hate thine enemy," commanding us to hold the foe to our humanity

as our only enemy, and declaring that all who share that humanity are the

neighbours of each one of us. But this gross-hearted age has disunited us from

our neighbour, and has made us welcome the serpent, and revel in his spotted

scales(7). I affirm, then, that it is a lawful thing to hate God's enemies,

and that this kind of hatred is pleasing to our Lord: and by God's enemies I

mean those who deny the glory of our Lord, be they Jews, or downright

idolaters, or those who through Arius' teaching idolize the creature, and so

adopt the error of the Jews. Now when the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost,

are with orthodox devotion being glorified and adored by those who believe

that in a distinct and unconfused Trinity there is One Substance, Glory,

Kingship, Power, and Universal Rule, in such a case as this what good excuse

for fighting can there be? At the time, certainly, when

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the heretical views prevailed, to try issues with the authorities, by whom the

adversaries' cause was seen to be strengthened, was well; there was fear then

lest our saving Doctrine should be over-ruled by human rulers. But now, when

over the whole world from one end of heaven to the other the orthodox Faith is

being preached, the man who fights with them who preach it, fights not with

them, but with Him Who is thus preached. What other aim, indeed, ought that

man's to be, who has the zeal for God, than in every possible way to announce

the glory of God? As long, then, as the Only-begotten is adored with all the

heart and soul and mind, believed to be in everything that which the Father

is, and in like manner the Holy Ghost is glorified with an equal amount of

adoration, what plausible excuse for fighting is left these over-refined

disputants, who are rending the seamless robe, and parting the Lord's name

between Paul and Cephas, and undisguisedly abhorring contact with those who

worship Christ, all but exclaiming in so many words, "Away from me, I am

holy"?

Granting that the knowledge which they believe themselves to have acquired

is somewhat greater than that of others: yet can they possess more than the

belief that the Son of the Very God is Very God, seeing that in that article

of the Very God every idea that is orthodox, every idea that is our salvation,

is included? It includes the idea of His Goodness, His Justice, His

Omnipotence: that He admits of no variableness nor alteration, but is always

the same; incapable of changing to worse or changing to better, because the

first is not His nature, the second He does not admit of; for what can be

higher than the Highest, what can be better than the Best? In fact, He is thus

associated with all perfection, and, as to every form of alteration, is

unalterable; He did not on occasions display this attribute, but was always

so, both before the Dispensation that made Him man, and during it, and after

it; and in all His activities in our behalf He never lowered any part of that

changeless and unvarying character to that which was out of keeping with it.

What is essentially imperishable and changeless is always such; it does not

follow the variation of a lower order of things, when it comes by dispensation

to be there; just as the sun, for example, when he plunges his beam into the

gloom, does not dim the brightness of that beam; but instead, the dark is

changed by the beam into light; thus also the True Light, shining in our

gloom, was not itself overshadowed with that shade, but enlightened it by

means of itself. Well, seeing that our humanity was in darkness, as it is

written, 'They know not, neither will they understand, they walk on in

darkness(8)," the Illuminator of this darkened world darted the beam of His

Divinity through the whole compound of our nature, through soul, I say, and

body too, and so appropriated humanity entire by means of His own light, and

took it up and made it just that thing which He is Himself. And as this

Divinity was not made perishable, though it inhabited a perishable body, so

neither did it alter in the direction of any change, though it healed the

changeful in our soul: in medicine, too, the physician of the body, when he

takes hold of his patient, so far from himself contracting the disease,

thereby perfects the cure of the suffering part. Let no one, either, putting a

wrong interpretation on the words of the Gospel, suppose that our human nature

in Christ was transformed to something more divine by any gradations and

advance: for the increasing in stature and in wisdom and in favour, is

recorded in Holy Writ only to prove that Christ really was present in the

human compound, and so to leave no room for their surmise, who propound that a

phantom, or form in human outline, and not a real Divine Manifestation, was

there. It is for this reason that Holy Writ records unabashed with regard to

Him all the accidents of our nature, even eating, drinking, sleeping,

weariness, nurture, increase in bodily stature, growing up--everything that

marks humanity, except the tendency to sin. Sin, indeed, is a miscarriage, not

a quality of human nature: just as disease and deformity are not congenital to

it in the first instance, but are its unnatural accretions, so activity in the

direction Of sin is to be thought of as a mere mutilation of the goodness

innate in us; it is not found to be itself a real thing, but we see it only in

the absence of that goodness. Therefore He Who transformed the elements of our

nature into His divine abilities, rendered it secure from mutilation and

disease, because He admitted not in Himself the deformity which sin works in

the will. "He did no sin," it says, "neither was guile found in his mouth(9)

." And this in Him is not to be regarded in connection with any interval of

time: for at once the man in Mary(where Wisdom built her house), though

naturally part of our sensuous compound, along with the coming upon her of the

Holy Ghost, and her overshadowing with the power of the Highest, became that

which that overshadowing power in essence was: for, without controversy, it is

the Less that is blest by the Greater. Seeing, then, that the power of the

Godhead is an immense and immeasurable thing, while man is a weak atom, at the

moment when the Holy Ghost came upon the Virgin, and the power of the Highest

over-

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shadowed her, the tabernacle formed by such an impulse was not clothed with

anything of human corruption; but, just as it was first constituted, so it

remained, even though it was man, Spirit nevertheless, and Grace, and Power;

and the special attributes of our humanity derived lustre from this abundance

of Divine Power(1) .

There are indeed two limits of human life: the one we start from, and the

one we end in: and so it was necessary that the. Physician of our being should

enfold us at both these extremities, and grasp not only the end, but the

beginning too, in order to secure in both the raising of the sufferer. That,

then, which we find to have happened on the side of the finish we conclude

also as to the beginning. As at the end He caused by virtue of the Incarnation

that, though the body was disunited from the soul, yet the indivisible Godhead

which had been blended once for all with the subject (who possessed them) was

not stripped from that body any more than it was from that soul, but while it

was in Paradise along with the soul and paved an entrance there in the person

of the Thief for all humanity, it remained by means of the body in the heart

of the earth, and therein destroyed him that had the power of Death (wherefore

His body too is called "the Lord(2) " on account of that inherent Godhead)--so

also, at the beginning, we conclude that the power of the Highest, coalescing

with our entire nature by that coming upon (the Virgin) of the Holy Ghost,

both resides in our soul, so far as reason sees it possible that it should

reside there, and is blended with our body, so that our salvation throughout

every element may be perfect, that heavenly passionlessness which is peculiar

to the Deity being nevertheless preserved both in the beginning and in the end

of this life as Man(3). Thus the beginning was not as our beginning, nor the

end as our end. Both in the one and in the other He evinced His Divine

independence; the beginning had no stain of pleasure upon it, the end was not

the end in dissolution.

Now if we loudly preach all this, and testify to all this, namely that

Christ is the power of God and the wisdom of God, always changeless, always

imperishable, though He comes in the changeable and the perishable; never

stained Himself, but making clean that which is stained; what is the crime

that we commit, and wherefore are we hated? And what means this opposing

array(4) of new Altars? Do we announce another Jesus? Do we hint at another?

Do we produce other scriptures? Have any of ourselves dared to say "Mother of

Man" of the Holy Virgin, the Mother of God(5): which is what we hear that some

of them say without restraint? Do we romance about three Resurrections(5)? Do

we promise the gluttony of the Millennium? Do we declare that the Jewish

animal-sacrifices shall be restored? Do we lower men's hopes again to the

Jerusalem below, Imagining its rebuilding with stones of a more brilliant

material? What charge like these can be brought against us, that our company

should be reckoned a thing to be avoided, and that in some places another

altar should be erected in opposition to us, as if we should defile their

sanctuaries? My heart was in a state of burning indignation about this: and

now that I have set foot in the City(7) again, I am eager to unburden my soul

of its bitterness, by appealing, in a letter, to your love. Do ye,

whithersoever the Holy Spirit shall lead you, there remain; walk with God

before you; confer not with flesh and blood; lend no occasion to any of them

for glorying, that they may not glory in you, enlarging their ambition by

anything in your lives. Remember the Holy Fathers, into whose hands ye were

commended by your Father now in bliss(8) , and to whom we

545

by God's grace were deemed worthy to succeed and remove not the boundaries

which our Fathers have laid down, nor put aside in any way the plainness of

our simpler proclamation in favour of their subtler school. Walk by the

primitive rule of the Faith: and the God of peace shall be with you, and ye

shall be strong in mind and body. May God keep you uncorrupted, is our prayer.

LETTER XVIII.

TO FLAVIAN(9).

THINGS with us, O man of God, are not in a good way. The development of

the bad feeling existing amongst certain persons who have conceived a most

groundless and unaccountable hatred of us is no longer a matter of mere

conjecture; it is now evinced with an earnestness and openness worthy only of

some holy work. You meanwhile, who have hitherto been beyond the reach of such

annoyance, are too remiss in stifling the devouring conflagration on your

neighbour's land; yet those who are well-advised for their own interests

really do take pains to check a fire close to them, securing themselves, by

this help given to a neighbour, against ever needing help in like

circumstances. Well, you will ask, what do I complain of? Piety has vanished

from the world; Truth has fled from our midst; as for Peace, we used to have

the name at all events going the round upon men's lips; but now not only does

she herself cease to exist, but we do not even retain the word that expresses

her. But that you may know more exactly the things that move our indignation,

I will briefly detail to you the whole tragic story.

Certain persons had informed me that the Right Reverend Helladius had

unfriendly feelings towards me, and that he enlarged in conversation to every

one upon the troubles that I had brought upon him. I did not at first believe

what they said, judging only from myself, and the actual truth of the matter.

But when every one kept bringing to us a tale of the same strain, and facts

besides corroborated their report, I thought it my duty not to continue to

overlook this ill-feeling, while it was still without root and development. I

therefore wrote by letter to your piety, and to many others who could help me

in my intention, and stimulated your zeal in this matter. At last, after I had

concluded the services at Sebasteia in(10) commemoration of Peter(1) of most

blessed memory, and of the holy martyrs, who had lived in his times, and whom

the people were accustomed to commemorate with him, I was returning to my own

See, when some one told me that Helladius himself was in the neighbouring

mountain district, holding martyrs' memorial services. At first I held on my

journey, judging it more proper that our meeting should take place in the

metropolis itself. But when one of his relations took the trouble to meet me,

and to assure me that he was sick, I left my carriage at the spot where this

news arrested me; I performed on horseback the intervening journey over a road

that was like a precipice, and well-nigh impassable with its rocky ascents.

Fifteen milestones measured the distance we had to traverse. Painfully

travelling, now on foot, now mounted, in the early morning, and even employing

some part of the night, I arrived between twelve and one o'clock at

Andumocina; for that was the name of the place where, with two other bishops,

he was holding his conference. From a shoulder of the hill overhanging this

village, we looked down, while still at a distance, upon this outdoor

assemblage of the Church. Slowly, and on foot, and leading the horses, I and

my company passed over the intervening ground, and we arrived at the chapel(2)

just as he had retired to his residence.

Without any delay a messenger was despatched to inform him of our being

there; and a very short while after, the deacon in attendance on him met us,

and we requested him to tell Helladius at once, so that we might spend as much

time as possible with him, and so have an opportunity of leaving nothing in

the misunderstanding between us unhealed. As for myself, I then remained

sitting, still in the open air, and waited for the invitation indoors; and at

a most inopportune time I became, as I sat there, a gazing stock to all the

visitors at the conference. The time was long; drowsiness came on, and

languor, intensified by the fatigue of the journey and the excessive heat of

the day; and all these things, with people staring at me, and pointing me out

to others, were so very distressing that in me the words of the prophet were

realized: "My spirit within me was desolate(3) ." I was kept

546

in this state till noon, and heartily did I repent of this visit, and that I

had brought upon myself this piece of discourtesy; and my own reflection vexed

me worse than this injury done me by my enemies(4) , warring as it did against

itself, and changing into a regret that I had made the venture. At last the

approach to the Altars was thrown open, and we were admitted to the sanctuary;

the crowd, however, were excluded, though my deacon entered along with me,

supporting with his arm my exhausted frame. I addressed his Lordship, and

stood for a moment, expecting from him an invitation to be seated; but when

nothing of the kind was heard from him, I turned towards one of the distant

seats, and rested myself upon it, still expecting that he would utter

something that was friendly, or at all events kind; or at least give one nod

of recognition.

Any hopes I had were doomed to complete disappointment. There ensued a

silence dead as night, and looks as downcast as in tragedy, and daze, and

dumbfoundedness, and perfect dumbness. A long interval of time it was, dragged

out as if it were in the blackness of night. So struck down was I by this

reception, in which he did not deign to accord me the merest utterance even of

those common salutations by which you discharge the courtesies of a chance

meeting(5),--"welcome," for instance, or "where do you come from?" or "to what

am I indebted for this pleasure?" or "on what important business are you

here?"--that I was inclined to make this spell of silence into a picture of

the life led in the underworld. Nay, I condemn the similitude as inadequate.

For in that underworld the equality of conditions is complete, and none of the

things that cause the tragedies of life on earth disturb existence. Their

glory, as the Prophet says, does not follow men down there; each individual

soul, abandoning the things so eagerly clung to by the majority here, his

petulance, and pride, and conceit, enters that lower world in simple

unencumbered nakedness; so that none of the miseries of this life are to be

found among them. Still(6), notwithstanding this reservation, my condition

then did appear to me like an underworld, a murky dungeon, a gloomy

torture-chamber; the more so, when I reflected what treasures of social

courtesies we have inherited from our fathers, and what recorded deeds of it

we shall leave to our descendants. Why, indeed, should I speak at all of that

affectionate disposition of our fathers towards each other? No wonder that,

being all naturally equal(7), they wished for no advantage over one another,

but thought to exceed each other only in humility. But my mind was penetrated

most of all with this thought; that the Lord of all creation, the

Only-begotten Son, Who was in the bosom of the Father, Who was in the

beginning, Who was in the form of God, Who upholds all things by the word of

His power, humbled Himself not only in this respect, that in the flesh He

sojourned amongst men, but also that He welcomed even Judas His own betrayer,

when he drew near to kiss Him, on His blessed lips; and that when He had

entered into the house of Simon the leper He, as loving all men, upbraided his

host, that He had not been kissed by him: whereas I was not reckoned by him as

equal even to that leper; and yet what was I, and what was he? I cannot

discover any difference between us. If one looks at it from the mundane point

of view, where was the height from which he had descended, where was the dust

in which I lay? If, indeed, one must regard things of this fleshly life, thus

much perhaps it will hurt no one's feelings to assert that, looking at our

lineage, whether as noble or as free, our position was about on a par; though,

if one looked in either for the true freedom and nobility, i.e. that of the

soul, each of us will be found equally a bondsman of Sin; each equally needs

One Who will take away his sins; it was Another Who ransomed us both from

Death and Sin with His own blood, Who redeemed us, and yet showed no contempt

of those whom He has redeemed, calling them though He does from deadness to

life, and healing every infirmity of their souls and bodies.

Seeing, then, that the amount of this conceit and overweening pride was so

great, that even the height of heaven was almost too narrow limits for it(and

yet I could see no cause or occasion whatever for this diseased state of mind,

such as might make it excusable in the case of some who in certain

circumstances contract it; when, for instance, rank or education, or

pre-eminence in dignities of office may have happened to inflate the vainer

minds), I had no means whereby to advise myself to keep quiet: for my heart

within me was swelling with indignation at the absurdity of the whole

proceeding, and was rejecting all the reasons for enduring it. Then, if ever,

did I feel admiration for that divine Apostle who so vividly depicts the civil

war that rages within us, declaring that there is a certain "law of sin in the

members, warring against the law of the

547

mind," and often making the mind a captive, and a slave as well, to itself.

This was the very array, in opposition, of two contending feelings that I saw

within myself: the one, of anger at the insult caused by pride, the other

prompting to appease the rising storm. When by God's grace, the worse

inclination had failed to get the mastery, I at last said to him, "But is it,

then, that some one of the things required for your personal comfort is being

hindered by our presence, and is it time that we withdrew?" On his declaring

that he had no bodily needs, I spoke to him some words calculated to heal, so

far as in me lay, his ill-feeling. When he had, in a very few words, declared

that the anger he felt towards me was owing to many injuries done him, I for

my part answered him thus: "Lies possess an immense power amongst mankind to

deceive but in the Divine Judgment there will be no place for the

misunderstandings thus arising. In my relations towards yourself, my

conscience is bold enough to prompt me to hope that I may obtain forgiveness

for all my other sins, but that, if I have acted in any way to harm you, this

may remain for ever unforgiven." He was indignant at this speech, and did not

suffer the proofs of what I had said to be added.

It was now past six o'clock, and the bath had been well prepared, and the

banquet was being spread, and the day was the sabbath(8), and a martyr's

commemoration. Again observe how this disciple of the Gospel imitates the Lord

of the Gospel: He, when eating and drinking with publicans and sinners,

answered to those who found fault with Him that He did it for love of mankind:

this disciple considers it a sin and a pollution to have us at his board, even

after all that fatigue which we underwent on the journey, after all that

excessive heat out of doors, in which we were baked while sitting at his

gates; after all that gloomy sullenness with which he treated us to the bitter

end, when we had come into his presence. He sends us off to toil painfully,

with a frame now thoroughly exhausted with the over-fatigue, over the same

distance, the same route: so that we scarcely reached our travelling company

at sunset, after we had suffered many mishaps on the way. For a storm-cloud,

gathered into a mass in the clear air by an eddy of wind, drenched us to the

skin with its floods of rain; for owing to the excessive sultriness, we had

made no preparation against any shower. However, by God's grace we escaped,

though in the plight of shipwrecked sailors from the waves: and right glad

were we to reach our company.

Having joined our forces we rested there that night, and at last arrived

alive in our own district; having reaped in addition this result of our

meeting him, that the memory of all that had happened before was revived by

this last insult offered to us; and, you see, we are positively compelled to

take measures, for the future, on our own behalf, or rather on his behalf; for

it was because his designs were not checked on former occasions that he has

proceeded to this unmeasured display of vanity. Something, therefore, I think,

must be done on our part, in order that he may improve upon himself, and may

be taught that he is human, and has no authority to insult and to disgrace

those who possess the same beliefs and the same rank as himself. For just

consider; suppose we granted for a moment, for the sake of argument, that it

is true that I have done something that has annoyed him, what trial(9) was

instituted against us, to judge either of the fact or the hearsay? What proofs

were given of this supposed injury? What Canons were cited against us? What

legitimate episcopal decision confirmed any verdict passed upon us? And

supposing any of these processes had taken place, and that in the proper way,

my standing(1) in the Church might certainly have been at stake, but what

Canons could have sanctioned insults offered to a free-born person, and

disgrace inflicted on one of equal rank with himself? "Judge righteous

judgment," you who look to God's law in this matter; say wherein you deem this

disgrace put-upon us to be excusable. If our dignity is to be estimated on the

ground of priestly jurisdiction, the privilege of each recorded by the

Council(2) is one and the same; or rather the oversight of Catholic

correction(3), from the fact that we possess an equal share of it, is so. But

if some are inclined to regard each of us by himself, divested of any priestly

dignity, in

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what respect has one any advantage over the other; in education for instance,

or in birth connecting with the noblest and most illustrious lineage, or in

theology? These things will be found either equal, or at all events not

inferior, in me. "But what about revenue?" he will say. I would rather not be

obliged to speak of this in his case; thus much only it will suffice to say,

that our own was so much at the beginning, and is so much now; and to leave it

to others to enquire into the causes of this increase of our revenue(4),

nursed as it is up till now, and growing almost daily by means of noble

undertakings. What licence, then, has he to put an insult upon us, seeing that

he has neither superiority of birth to show, nor a rank exalted above all

others, nor a commanding power of speech, nor any previous kindness done to

me? While, even if he had all this to show, the fault of having slighted those

of gentle birth would still be inexcusable. But he has not got it; and

therefore I deem it right to see that this malady of puffed-up pride is not

left without a cure; and it will be its cure to put it down to its proper

level, and reduce its inflated dimensions, by letting off a little of the

conceit with which he is bursting.The manner of effecting this we leave to God