Letters 95–139

[Letter 46. To the same] How can your affairs be mere gleanings to us, O divine and sacred head? “What word has escaped the barrier of your teeth?” Or how did you dare to say it? (Let me too be a little daring.) How did your mind start, or your ink write, or your paper … ? O letters, and Athens, and virtues, and sweat over letters! You almost make me a tragedian with what you write. Do you not know us, or yourself, you eye of the world, great voice and trumpet, palace of eloquence? Are your affairs small to Gregory? What else on earth could anyone admire, if Gregory does not admire you? There is one spring among the seasons, one sun among the stars, one heaven enclosing all things, and one voice above all, yours, if indeed I am fit to judge such things and my affection does not deceive me, which I do not think it does. If you charge us with not admiring you as you deserve, charge all mankind too; for no one else has admired you worthily or will, except you yourself and your own grand voice, if it were possible to praise oneself and the law of eloquence allowed us this. But if we are charged with despising you, why not first with madness? Or are you vexed that we live as philosophers? Grant me to say it: this alone is higher even than your words. [Letter 47. To the same] I hear that you are troubled by the new innovation, and have trouble from some sophistical … of those in power and their usual meddling; and that is no wonder. For I was not unaware of envy, and that many of those around you, serving their own interests through you

and are kindling the spark of small-mindedness. That I do not fear, that you should suffer anything unphilosophical in your troubles, unworthy of yourself and of us. Rather I think that now above all my Basil will be known, and the philosophy you have gathered all your life will be displayed, and you will rise above the insults as above a high wave, and remain unshaken while others are troubled. If it seems good, I will come myself, perhaps to share some counsel (if the sea needs water, and you a counsellor), but certainly to be benefited, and to learn the philosophy of being insulted together with you. [Letter 48. To the same]

[Letter 48. To the same] Will you not stop reviling us as uneducated, boorish, unfriendly, and not even worthy to live, because we have dared to understand … ? You yourself would say that we do you no other wrong; nor are we conscious of any evil, small or great, done to you by us, nor may we ever be; except this alone: we have recognized that we were deceived, very late indeed, but we have recognized it; and we blame your throne, for making you suddenly … above us; and we are weary of answering for your doings and defending ourselves to those who clearly know both our former state and our present one. For of all we suffer this is the most ridiculous, or the most pitiable: that the same people are wronged and accused, as has now happened to us. Others accuse us of one thing and others of another, whatever each pleases, according to his own character, or the measure of his anger on our behalf. The kindest blame your … and contempt, and the casting aside after use, as of the most worthless vessels and those of no account, or of the props under arches, which are removed and spurned once the arch is set. Let them go their way, then, and say what they will; no one will check the licence of the tongue. And as for you, pay me my wages: those blessed and empty hopes which you devised against those who

reproach you, as if you were insulting us for the sake of honour, light-headed as we are and quick at such things. But I will make known my position as it is; and do not be angry with me at all. I will say what I uttered at the very moment I was hurt, not so much boiling with anger or stunned by what had happened as to have my reasoning stolen away and not know what I was saying. I will not take up arms, nor learn tactics, which I did not learn before, when it seemed more the time for it, when everyone was arming and raving (you know the ailments of the weak); nor will I stand up to the warlike Anthimus, though he is a warrior out of season, since I am unarmed and unwarlike and better suited to receiving wounds. Fight him yourself, if you like (for needs often make even the weak warriors), or look for men to fight when he seizes your mules, guarding the narrows and, like that Amalek, barring the way to Israel. But to us give quiet in place of everything. Why must one fight about sucking-pigs and fowls, and those belonging to others, as though about souls and canons? And why rob the metropolis of splendid Sasima, or strip and uncover the secret of your intention, which I ought to help keep hidden? But you, play the man and be strong, and draw everything to your own glory, as rivers draw the torrents, preferring neither friendship nor intimacy to the good and to piety, and not caring what sort of man you will be thought for doing this, but being of the Spirit alone. As for us, we shall gain only this from your friendship: not to trust friends, and to hold nothing more precious than God.

[Letter 49. To the same] You accuse us of idleness and sloth, because we have not taken possession of your Sasima, nor act like a bishop, nor arm you against one another like dogs over a morsel thrown into their midst. For me the greatest activity is inactivity. And so that you may know one of my merits, I take such pride in staying out of affairs that I think it might even be a law for all, in magnanimity of this kind. And if all imitated us, there would be no troubles for the Churches, nor would the faith be dragged about, becoming each man's weapon in his private quarrels. [Letter 50. To the same] How hot and coltish you are in your letters! And it is no wonder that, having just come into glory, you want to show us what glory you find, so as to make yourself the more august, like painters who paint the Seasons. As for me, to narrate in full all the affairs of the bishops and of the letter at which you are annoyed, where we began, how far we went, and where we ended, seems too long for a letter, and the work of history rather than of defence. To put it briefly: the most noble Anthimus came to us with some bishops, either to visit my father (for that too was given out) or to press for what he did press for. After making many attempts on many matters, about the parishes, the marshes of Sasima, our ordination, granting favours, asking, threatening, pleading, blaming, praising,

… drawing circles around himself, as though we must look to him alone, and to the new metropolis as the greater … . “Why do you draw a line round our city,” I said, “when we regard our Church too as truly the mother of Churches, and from of old?” In the end he went away without success, after much huffing and puffing, and accusing us of “Basilism,” as men were once accused of “Philippism.” Do we seem to you to be wronging you in this? I do not think so. Consider also the matter of the letter, how it came from us, your “insulters.” They drew up a synodal summons to us. When I objected and called the thing an insult, they asked at least for the second course, that you be invited through me to deliberate on these matters. This I accepted, so that the first might not happen, leaving everything to you, whether you wished to assemble them, and where, and when: the act of one who honours you, not of one who insults you. Since we do no wrong in this either, tell me what is left. If you must learn it from me, I will read you Anthimus's own letter, which he sent us when he seized the marshes in spite of our forbidding and threatening, insulting and reproaching us, and as it were singing a song of victory over us as defeated. And what sense is there in clashing with him for your sake, and displeasing you as though we were doing him favours? You should have learned this first, my admirable friend, and not insulted us even then, if for nothing else, as your elders. If you … behave ostentatiously and ambitiously, and talk down to us from above, as a metropolitan to petty citizens, or even to men without a city, we too have a brow to raise against you. For this is the easiest thing for anyone, and perhaps the more reasonable,

… as much as the purple in woven cloth. Figures of speech we will admit, but few, and those not shameless. Antitheses, balanced clauses and equal members we will leave to the sophists; and if we ever use them, we will do so in play rather than in earnest. To end what I have to say, I will repeat what I heard one of the … say about the eagle: when the birds were contending for the kingship and came adorned in various ways, the eagle's finest adornment was not to think himself beautiful. This above all must be kept in letters: lack of adornment, and keeping as close as possible to what is natural. So much for you about letters, as we went over it in passing; and perhaps these things are not for us, who are busy with greater things; the rest you will learn by your own diligence, being quick to learn, and those clever at these matters will teach you.

… that you might give in return the writing itself and the benefit from what we write. For we can neither ask nor demand a better reward than this, one more profitable to those who ask or more fitting to the one who gives. [Letter 53. To Nicobulus] Having always preferred the great Basil to myself, even if he thought the opposite, I prefer him now too, no less for truth's sake than for friendship's. Therefore I put his letters first and place mine after them. For I desire that we be joined to one another everywhere, and at the same time to give others an example of moderation and modesty.

… finding none more genuine than us, nor more ready to share your concerns, even if not yet much intimacy or experience has taught you this. About your troubles, what should I write, except that I want you to regard this as a time for the highest philosophy, and to endure in your sufferings, and so to contend against those who grieve you, since it is not possible otherwise … [Letter 57. To the same] The year that has galloped past brought a heavy frost on our homeland, and nipped the buds of the vines that were already opening toward birth; and those that were left barren have made our cups dry and unwatered. Why, then, have I been led to make a tragedy to you about the barrenness of plants? So that you may become for us, as Solomon says, yourself a vine in bloom and a fruitful branch, not one that has … a cluster, but one that has pressed out the dew of the clusters for the thirsty. And who are the thirsty? Those who are building the wall round the enclosure of the church. Since I have no mountain wine to give them to drink, I have come to your right hand, rich in grapes, so that you may command your streams to flow over to us from your river country. If you do this quickly, you will heal the dry mouths of many, and you will gladden first of all, as much as possible, me too, the Atticizing beggar.

[Letter 58. To Basil] I took you as guide of my life and teacher of doctrine, and everything good one might name, from the beginning, and I take you so now; and if anyone else praises your qualities, he is surely either with me or after me. So far am I overcome by your Reverence, and so wholly am I yours. And no wonder: where intimacy is greater, experience is greater too; and where experience is fuller, testimony is more complete. And if anything else in life is profitable to me, it is your friendship and … . So I stand concerning these things, and may I continue so. What I write now I write not willingly, yet I write it. And do not be at all vexed with me, or I shall be very vexed myself, if I am not believed to say and write these things to you out of goodwill. Many have condemned us as not firm about the faith, all those, that is, who rightly regard our affairs as one. Some charge us openly with impiety, others with cowardice: with impiety, those who believe we do not even speak soundly; with cowardice, those who blame our reserve. And why should I repeat what others say? But I will tell you what happened recently. There was a drinking party, and among those at it were not a few distinguished men who were our friends, and among them a man of those who wear the name and garb of piety. The drinking had not yet begun, and the talk was about us, as tends to happen at parties, put forward in place of some other entertainment; and when all were admiring your qualities and adding us as philosophizing alike, and speaking of our friendship, and Athens, and our agreement and concord in everything, our would-be philosopher took it ill. “What is this, gentlemen?” he said, crying out very vehemently. “How false you are, and flatterers! Let the men be praised for other things, if you like; I do not dispute it myself. But the greatest thing I do not grant: orthodoxy. In vain is Basil praised, in vain Gregory: the one betraying

the faith by what he says, the other a fellow betrayer by putting up with it.” “Where does this come from,” I said, “you foolish man, new Dathan and Abiram in your madness? From where have you come to us as a dogmatist? How do you make yourself judge of such great matters?” “I have just come,” he said, “from the festival of the martyr Eupsychius” (and so it was), “and there I heard the great Basil speaking of God, most excellently and perfectly about the Father and the Son, as no one else could easily speak, but slurring over the Spirit” (and he added a comparison, like rivers that run past the rocks but hollow out the sand). “And why is it, my admirable friend,” he said, looking at me, “that you already openly call the Spirit God” (and he recalled something of mine, when I had spoken about God at a crowded synod and then had added, of the Spirit, that well-known saying: How long shall we hide the lamp under the bushel?), “while he hints obscurely and as it were sketches the doctrine in outline, but does not speak the truth freely, flooding our hearing with policy rather than piety, and covering his duplicity with the power of his speech?” “Because I,” I said, “lying in a corner, unknown to most, and hardly known to say anything or what I say, can be a philosopher without danger. But his word carries more weight, since he is more conspicuous both in himself and through his Church. Everything he says is public, and great is the war around him, as the heretics seek to catch a bare word from Basil himself, so that he may be driven out of the Church, he who is almost the only spark of truth left and its life-giving power, everything around having been taken; and so that the evil may take root in the city and, from this Church as from a base, overrun the whole world. It is better, then, that the truth be managed by economy, while we yield a little to the times as to a cloud, than that it be destroyed by openness of proclamation. For it does us no harm to know the Spirit as God from other expressions that lead to this (for the truth lies in the meaning rather than in the sound);

but to the Churches a great loss, if the truth were driven out through one man.” Those present would not accept this economy, as stale and a mockery; they even shouted us down, as men who managed their cowardice rather than the doctrine. It was much better, they said, to guard our own people by the truth than to make them useless by this so-called economy and fail to win over the others either. The details, what I said and what I heard, and how I grew angry with my opponents almost beyond measure and beyond my usual way, would take long to narrate now, and are perhaps unnecessary. In the end, I sent them off in this way. But do you teach us, O divine and sacred head, how far we should go in speaking of the Spirit as God, what expressions we should use, and how far we should use economy, so that we may have these things ready against those who contradict us. For if I, who more than anyone know you and your views, and have often given and received assurance on these matters, needed to learn this now, I would be of all men the most ignorant and the most wretched.

… to be present, to contend at your side, and to contribute what I can. For who would hang back? Who would not take courage under you and with you, speaking and contending for the truth? [Letter 60. To the same] That your command be fulfilled depends partly on us, and partly, and I think the greater part, on your Reverence. On us depends the eagerness and readiness; for we have never fled your company, but always pursue it, and now long for it the more. On your Holiness depends setting our affairs right. For we are sitting by our lady mother, who has now been suffering a long time from sickness. If we were not likely to leave her in a doubtful state, be sure we would not miss being with you. Only help with your prayers: her toward health, and us toward the journey.

… generously and eagerly; fulfil the wish of the departed woman, and, thinking of her as present with you and seeing what is done, give her rest by your giving, so that you may not only have the money from her, but may also obtain a mother's blessing, which establishes the houses of children; bearing this in mind, that a small portion with righteousness is better, as it is written, than a larger one with stinginess (not to say something blasphemous), and that many have even put up with whole houses being given over to churches, while others gave away all their property of their own accord and made the finest of bargains, becoming poor for the sake of the riches there. Do not, then, sow sparingly, so that you may reap abundantly; but grant this good inheritance to yourselves and to those dearest to you, holding back nothing of what was written, but giving us everything with pleasure and cheerfulness, or rather paying back God's things as his own, as men who will gain only this: whatever you spend for your souls. For why must one lay up treasure for robbers and thieves and the changes of fortune, which move unstable wealth now to some and now to others and toss it about, and not store it in secure storehouses, stronger than those who plot against it? Show thrift in other matters and toward others (for I pray that you may be powerful, with kindness), but for us contend the good contest, as to who will surpass the other in reverence and in the blessings owed by God to the fair-minded. Convince us, then, that you are genuine Christians. Or rather, beginning from … so pious and just, from this agree about other things too, so that you may rejoice in one another and we in you, as men who have become, among other things, a fine example to the whole Church of fair-mindedness in these matters.

[Letter 62. To Amphilochius] Not barbarous is the command of your inimitable nobility, but Greek, or rather Christian. But the Armenian, for whom you are so zealous, is plainly a barbarian, and far from our sense of honour. [Letter 63. To Amphilochius] You are grieved; I, obviously, am living in luxury! You weep; I, as you see, am keeping festival and priding myself on my present state! Does a son grieve you, carried off for his virtue and honoured, and is it terrible if he will not be with you to care for your old age and tend you as is fitting and customary; while a father does not distress me, who has made his last departure from us, from which he will never return to us nor be seen by us? Yet we accuse no one, nor demand the consolation owed us, knowing that one's own troubles leave no leisure for those of others; for no one is so friendly and so philosophical as to be above his sufferings and to comfort another while needing comfort himself. But you add blow to blow, blaming us, as I hear, and thinking that your son, our brother, has been neglected, or even, what is heavier, betrayed by us; and that we do not feel the loss which all, friends and kinsmen, have suffered, and I more than all, who placed in him the hopes of my life and regarded him as my only support, my only good counsellor, my only partner in piety. And yet to which occasion do you refer this? If to the first,

consider that I even crossed over to you on purpose, troubled by the report, and was eager to share counsel with you while there was still time to deliberate about this; and you shared everything with us rather than this, whether from the same perplexity or wishing I know not what. If to the last, above all my grief did not allow me to meet you again, together with the honour and duty owed to my father, which I could not have held anything above, and that while the blow was still fresh, when it is not only impious, but not at all seemly, to play the philosopher out of season and beyond what is human. Then too we thought that things had been settled beforehand by events, and had already reached their end, such as seemed good to the One who guides our affairs. So much for that. But now relax your grief toward us, the most unreasonable of all, as I persuade myself; and if you think there is anything more, bring it forward, so that you may not grieve us in turn and yourself as well, and suffer something quite unworthy of your nobility, blaming us instead of others, us who do no wrong but, to tell the truth, have been equally tyrannized over by our common friends, whom alone you regarded as benefactors. [Letter 64. To Eusebius, bishop of Samosata]

… you have been shown forth in the difficulties of trials, and have risen higher than your persecutors by nobly leaving the land that bore you. Others have our ancestral soil, but we the city above; others perhaps our throne, but we Christ. O what a bargain! What we have despised, and what we have received! We have gone through fire and water, but I believe that we shall also come out into refreshment. For God will not abandon us to the end, nor overlook right doctrine persecuted; but according to the multitude of our pains his consolations will gladden us. This, then, we both believe and pray. But do you, I beg, pray for our lowliness. And as often as an occasion offers, do not hesitate to bless us by letters and make us more cheerful by telling us of your affairs, as you have now been so good as to do.

… that you do not weary of remembering us. For it is not only a benefit to us to be thought worthy of your letters, but also a boast before the many and an ornament, that we are held in account by a man so great in virtue and so close to God that he can bring others close to him too, by word and by example. [Letter 67. To Julian] I have many claims to your friendship, and, if nothing else, our studies, than which nothing is more venerable or closer to most people; but of enmity there is no ground at all, nor is there, nor may there be. For what has given you offence in your dealings with your brother Nicobulus, or from Nicobulus, is no more mine than what is done in India, as far as approving any of what has happened is concerned. Do not, then, reckon these things against me, nor on this account take worse counsel for yourself; but carry out the kindness you promised the poor. And free from the register the clergy around me whom I asked to be excused, bearing in mind that it is very absurd that others should consecrate their whole property to God, while you will not even be good at no cost to yourself; and that other cities should be granted all who serve at the altar, while we are not granted even those who live with us and serve us, and that by you, our closest friends, whom we would perhaps not disgrace. It was right that this should be written to you by us. It was not possible to meet you, since illness drove me off to Tyana for treatment while there was time. Forgive me. In place of us you have God present, helping the poor, who is far more to be revered than our presence.

[Letter 68. To the same] You have invited us to the lodging, and rightly, as partners in the deliberation on the equalization of taxes; for the matter calls for no small care. If I were in health, I would have come very eagerly; and I will come when it is possible, God willing. For now I make up for my presence by letter. I know that you come of holy parents and have been raised from the first in the fear of God. What you know to be profitable to you, for good repute and for the safety of the soul, you will plainly do, even if we do not write. But if we too must contribute something, we make this known: that, in place of any other way of life that Christian souls offer to God, this is now set before you; and you will lay up great treasure for yourself by caring for the common good, and by setting right anything that was badly arranged before. One thing, and the greatest for safety (which you must guard first of all): take as fellow workers those whom you know to excel others in understanding and character. For what use is it to be a good helmsman with bad rowers?

[Letter to Eutropius] What is this? Eutropius the great is in our country, and we hear of him but do not enjoy him. What else was the famous Tantalus but this, wasting with thirst in the midst of springs? You long to meet us, as you write, and you do well. For being what you are, you ought not to despise your friends, but to do us good even on your way, and to honour after your term of office what you thought worthy of honour while you were in office. But how do you think I feel, and what spirit do you think I have, longing for you no less, if not more, as is natural (for what is more to be revered is more longed for), but fettered by illness? Become for me the Egyptian drug, whether that was a word or something else, with which Homer drugs souls in their griefs. How will you become it? First, by forgiving; for goodness is ready to forgive. Then, by instructing us with whatever you write. Since we had reason to admire you as a governor more for your virtue than for your power.

… imitating the good painters, who train their pupils by showing them many things. This, then, you have now done, and done well. And in future do not hesitate to do us this favour, even if thrones carry you on high again (they will carry your office, not your virtue; for in virtue you have nothing to be raised by, having reached the very top). Even while managing public affairs, do not neglect your friends, like the young men in Homer who attend to the duties of friendship in the midst of war; for your Homer too adorns his poetry with this.

… and in your prayers, that everything will turn out for you as you wish, and the storm will be stilled into a breeze, and God will give you this reward for your orthodoxy: to rise above those who abuse you. Above all, may we see you soon and enjoy your company, as we pray. But if you are delayed, things being as they are, do not disdain at least to gladden us by letters telling us of your affairs, and to pray for us as usual. May the good God grant you health and cheer in all things, you the common support of the Church. [Letter 75. To Vitalian] We do not converse with you often. The reason is that there are many around you, and those in whom we least rejoice. But if you would clear yourself of the many and have virtue as your housemate, you will see even the lame run, as the proverb says. This we promise, with God, and will do.