Orations (other than the Theological Orations) 43.12–43.29

The first years of his life were swaddled and shaped under his great father, whom Pontus then put forward as a common teacher of virtue; … the best and purest formation, which the divine David well calls “of the day”, the opposite of that of the night. Under him, then, the wonderful man was educated, his life and his speech growing and advancing together; not boasting of some Thessalian mountain cave as a workshop of virtue, nor of some boastful Centaur as teacher of the heroes of his time, nor being taught by him to shoot hares, or run down fawns, or hunt deer, or to be best at war, or to break colts, using the same creature as colt and teacher, or being nourished on the mythical marrow of deer and lions; but being trained in the general education and practising piety, and, in short, being led by his first lessons towards the perfection to come. For those who have succeeded in life only or in speech only, and fall short in the other, seem to me no different from the one-eyed, whose loss is great, but whose shame is greater, both when they look and when they are looked at. But those who excel in both and are skilled with either hand have perfection and live with the blessedness of the world to come. This was his lot, who had at home a good example of virtue, looking to which he was at once excellent. As we see colts and calves skipping beside their mothers from their birth, so he too ran close beside his father with a colt's frisking, not far behind the highest movements of his virtue; or, if you like, sketching in outline the future beauty of his virtue, and tracing the features of exactness before the time for exactness. [13] When he had had enough of the education here, since he was to miss none of the good things nor be outdone by the industry of the bee, which gathers the most useful from every flower, he hastened to the city of Caesarea to share in its schools; I mean this illustrious city of ours (for it was the guide and teacher of my own eloquence too), no less a metropolis of letters than of the cities which it surpasses and over which it rules; and if one deprived it of its power in letters, one would have taken away its finest and most distinctive glory. For other cities pride themselves on other ornaments, old or new, according to the stories or sights they have; but its mark is letters, as devices are on arms or in plays. Let those tell what follows who educated the man among them and enjoyed his learning: how great he was to his teachers and how great to his companions, keeping pace with the former and surpassing the latter in every kind of learning; what fame he won in a short time with all, with the common people and with the first of the city; displaying a learning beyond his age, and a firmness of character beyond his learning; an orator among orators even before the sophist's chair; a philosopher among philosophers even before the doctrines of philosophy; and, the greatest thing, a priest to the Christians even before the priesthood: so much did everyone concede to him in all things. Letters were for him a side-work, from which he gathered only so much as to have them as helpers for our philosophy; since power in these too is needed to express what is thought, for a thought that cannot be uttered is the movement of the paralysed. But philosophy was his pursuit: to break away from the world and to be with God, gaining the things above by means of those below, and acquiring what stands and abides by means of what is unstable and flowing.

From there he went to Byzantium, the city that presides over the East (for it was renowned for its most accomplished sophists and philosophers, from whom in a short time he gathered the best by the quickness and greatness of his nature); from there he was sent by God and by his fine greed for learning to Athens, the home of letters: Athens, truly golden to me, and the procurer of good things, if it was to anyone. For it made me know this man more fully, who was not unknown to me before; and seeking letters, I gained happiness; and in another way I had the same experience as Saul, who, looking for his father's asses, found a kingdom, gaining more by the side-work than by the work. Up to this point our discourse has run easily, carried along a smooth and easy road, truly a royal road of the man's praises; but from here I do not know how to use my speech or where to turn, for the discourse meets something steep. For having come to this point and taken hold of this occasion, I long to add to what has been said something of my own, and to linger a little over the story of whence and how and from what beginning our friendship arose, or rather our harmony and union of nature, if I must speak more properly. For neither does the eye easily withdraw from pleasant sights, but even if one drags it away by force it turns back to them, nor does speech from the sweetest stories. But I fear the vulgarity of the attempt. I will try, then, to do it as moderately as I can; and if I am at all overcome by longing, forgive the feeling, the most just of all feelings, and not to feel which is a loss to those who have sense.

Athens received us like the stream of a river, divided from one source, our homeland, into different foreign lands by the love of learning, and coming together again into one, as if by agreement, God so moving us. It received me a little before, and him immediately after me, welcomed with great and splendid hopes. For he was on many tongues before he arrived, and it was a great thing for each to secure first the one so much sought after. There is nothing like adding a little story as a relish to the discourse, a reminder to those who know and instruction to those who do not. Most of the young men at Athens, and the more foolish of them, are mad about sophists; not only the low-born and nameless, but even the well-born and conspicuous, being a mixed crowd, young and hard to restrain in their impulses. What one can see happen with those who are passionate about horses and the races: they leap, they shout, they send dust up to heaven, they drive while sitting down, they beat the air, they whip the horses with their fingers as with whips …

… they change teams, though they are masters of nothing; they easily exchange charioteers, horses, stables, generals with one another; and often the poor, who have not the means for even one day's food … This is what these men suffer, quite simply, about their own teachers and the rival teachers, eager that they themselves may be more numerous and make their teachers richer. The thing is quite absurd and demonic. Cities, roads, harbours, mountain tops, plains, frontiers are seized beforehand; there is nothing that is not a part of Attica or of the rest of Greece, and most of the inhabitants themselves, for they have these too divided among their factions. [16] Whenever a newcomer arrives and falls into the hands of those who seize him (and this happens by force or willingly), they have this Attic custom, mixing play with earnest. First he is entertained by one of those who got him first, friends or relatives or fellow countrymen, or those who are outstanding in sophistry and bring in fees, and who are therefore especially honoured by the masters; for this too is a reward for them, to win pupils. Then he is teased by anyone who wishes; and this, I think, they wish, to humble the pride of newcomers and bring them under their hand from the start. He is teased, by some more boldly, by others more wittily, according to their rusticity or urbanity. To those who do not know it the thing seems very frightening and savage, but to those who know it beforehand very pleasant and humane; for there is more show than deed in the threats. Then he is led in procession through the marketplace to the bath. The procession is this: arranging themselves in pairs at intervals, those who are performing the rite for the young man escort him to the bath. When they draw near, with loud shouts and leaps, as if frenzied (and the shouting bids them stop and not advance, as though the bath would not admit them), and with the doors being battered at the same time, they frighten the young man with the din, then allow him to enter, and so give him his freedom, receiving him from the bath as an equal and as one of themselves; and this is the most pleasant part of the rite for them, the quickest release and end of the vexations. At that time, then, I not only myself treated my great Basil with respect, seeing the steadiness of his character and the maturity of his speech, but also persuaded the others to do the same, those of the young men who did not know the man; for to most he was at once venerable, his reputation having gone before him. What came of it? He was almost the only one of the newcomers to escape the common law, being thought worthy of greater honour than befits a newcomer.

This was the prelude to our friendship; from this came the spark of our union; thus we were wounded with love for each other. Then something else happened; for it is not right to pass this over either. I find the Armenians not a simple race, but very secretive and underhand. At that time some of his longer-standing acquaintances and friends, from his father's time and from their earlier companionship (for they belonged to that school), came to him with a pretence of friendship (it was envy, not goodwill, that brought them), and questioned him, more contentiously than reasonably, and tried to make him yield to them at the first attempt, knowing the man's natural talent of old and not bearing the honour he then had. For it was terrible …

… if they, who had put on the philosopher's cloak before him and practised their throat-gargling eloquence, should not have the advantage over a stranger and newcomer. And I, the lover of Athens and foolish as I was (for I did not perceive the envy, trusting the pretence), when they were already giving way and turning their backs (for I was jealous that the fame of Athens should be undone in them and be very quickly despised), supported the young men, renewing the argument and giving them my own weight (and in such matters even a small addition can do everything), and made the argument even, “with heads equal in the fight”. But when I learned the secret of the discussion, which could no longer be held in but was now plainly exposed, I suddenly changed and backed water, taking my stand with him, and made the victory one-sided. He was at once delighted at what had happened (for he was quick-witted, if anyone was), and, filled with eagerness, that I may describe him fully in Homer's words, he pressed on, routing those noble fellows with his argument and striking them with syllogisms, and did not let up until he had completely turned them and bound on the victory cleanly. This was the second torch of our friendship, no longer a spark, kindled conspicuous and on high. [18] They then went away unsuccessful, much blaming themselves for their rashness and much annoyed with me for my stratagem, so that they avowed open enmity and charged me with treachery, not only to them but to Athens itself, as having been refuted at the first trial and put to shame by one man, and he one who had not even had time to gain confidence. And he (for it is a human feeling, that when we have hoped for great things and suddenly meet what we hoped for, what we see appears less than its fame), he too felt this: he was downcast, impatient, could not congratulate himself on his coming. He sought what he had hoped for; he called Athens an empty blessedness. So he; but I removed most of his grief, conversing with him reasonably and charming him with arguments, and saying what was true: that neither is a man's character quickly caught, except by long time and closer acquaintance, nor is learning known to those who test it from a few things and in a short time. In this way I brought him back to good cheer, and, giving and receiving proof, bound him more closely to myself.

When, as time went on, we confessed our longing to each other, and that philosophy was what we pursued, then we were all things to each other: sharing a roof, sharing a table, joined in nature, looking to one goal, always increasing our longing for each other more warmly and more firmly. For bodily loves, being for things that flow, flow away like spring flowers. For neither does a flame remain when its fuel is consumed, but departs with what kindles it; nor does desire persist when its tinder has withered. But loves that are according to God and chaste, since they are for something that stands, are for that reason more lasting; and the more their beauty appears to them, the more it binds to itself and to one another those who love the same beauty. This is the law of the love that is above us. I feel that I am being carried beyond the occasion and the measure, and I do not know how I fall into these words; but I cannot restrain myself from the story. For always what has been passed over seems necessary and better than what was chosen first. And if anyone drags me forward tyrannically, I shall suffer what octopuses suffer, which, when dragged out of their holes, cling to the rocks with their suckers and are not let go until they have taken something from them by force. If, then, anyone allows me, I have what I seek; if not, I will take it from myself. … [20] … to receive vice than to impart virtue, since it is easier to pass on disease than to bestow health. Of studies we delighted not in the most pleasant but in the finest, since from these too there is formation towards virtue …

Two roads were known to us: the first and more precious, the second not of equal worth; the one leading to our sacred houses and the teachers there, the other to the teachers outside. The others we left to those who wished: feasts, theatres, assemblies, banquets. For nothing, I think, is precious that does not lead to virtue and make better those who pursue it. Others have other names, from their fathers or their families, or from their own pursuits or deeds; but for us the great thing and the great name was to be and to be called Christians. On this we prided ourselves more than Gyges on the turning of his ring (if that was not a myth), by which he became tyrant of the Lydians; or Midas on his gold, by which he perished when his prayer was granted and he turned everything into gold, another Phrygian myth. For why should I speak of the arrow of Abaris the Hyperborean, or the Argive Pegasus, for whom it was not so great to be carried through the air as it was for us to be raised up to God through one another and with one another? To say it briefly: Athens is harmful to others in what concerns the soul (and this is not lightly supposed by the more pious), for it is rich in the evil wealth, idols, more than the rest of Greece, and it is hard not to be carried away by their praisers and advocates; but to us there was no harm from them, our minds being closed and fortified. On the contrary, if I may say something paradoxical, we were confirmed in the faith there, learning their deceit and falseness, and there we despised demons where demons are admired. And if there is, as is believed, a river that flows sweet through the brine, or a creature that leaps about in the fire by which all things are consumed, that is what we were …

And the finest thing was that there was around us a not ignoble company, educated and led under his guidance and rejoicing in the same things, even if we ran on foot beside a Lydian chariot, his course and manner of life. Through this we came to be conspicuous among our teachers and fellow students, conspicuous throughout all Greece, and especially among its most distinguished men. We had already become known even beyond its borders, as became clear from many who reported it. For our teachers were known wherever Athens was known, and we wherever our teachers were known, heard of and spoken of together, a pair not without a name, both among those with us and among those who heard of us. The Oresteses and Pyladeses were nothing like this to them, nor the Molionidae, the wonder of Homer's page, whom shared misfortunes and good chariot-driving made famous, dividing between them the same reins and whips. But I have been led unawares into my own praises, I who never accepted this from others. And it is no wonder if even here I have reaped some fruit of his friendship, profiting from him in death for praise, as in life for virtue. But let our discourse return again to the turning post.

Who was so grey in understanding, even before grey hairs? For by this Solomon too defines old age. Who was so venerable to old and young, not only of those in our own time, but even of those who lived long before us? Who needed learning less, because of his character? Who had more learning, together with his character? What kind of learning did he not go through? Or rather, which did he not go through to excess, as though it were the only one? He went through all as no one goes through one, and each to its height as though there were no other. For diligence concurred with natural talent, the two from which sciences and arts get their strength. He hardly needed quickness of nature, because of his application, and hardly needed application, because of his quickness; but he so combined both and brought them into one that it was unclear in which of the two he was more wonderful. Who was so great in rhetoric, which breathes the might of fire, even if his character was not that of the rhetoricians? Who in grammar, which makes the tongue pure Greek, collects history, presides over metres and lays down laws for poems? Who in philosophy, the truly lofty and upward-moving, both practical and contemplative, and that part of it concerned with logical demonstrations, antitheses and contests, which they call dialectic, so that it was easier to find a way out of labyrinths than to escape the nets of his arguments, if he had need of them? Of astronomy, geometry and the proportions of numbers he took so much as not to be confounded by the clever in these matters; the excess he spat out as useless to those who wish to be pious; so that one might admire what he chose more than what he passed over, or what he passed over more than what he chose. Medicine, the fruit of philosophy and industry, was made necessary for him by the weakness of his body and his care of the sick; starting from these he came to a mastery of the art, and of this not the part concerned with what is visible and lowly, but the part that is systematic and philosophical. But what are these, great as they are, compared with the education of the man's character? Minos and Rhadamanthys are nonsense to those who knew the man, those whom the Greeks thought worthy of the meadows of asphodel and the Elysian fields, having formed the picture of our paradise from the books of Moses, I think, which are ours, even if they differed somewhat in the naming and indicated it by other names. [24] So it was, then, and the cargo was full of learning, as far as is attainable by human nature (for beyond Gades there is no passage) …

… and there remained the return home and the more perfect life, and the taking hold of what we had hoped and agreed upon. The day of departure came, and all that goes with departure: farewell speeches, escorts, entreaties to stay, lamentations, embraces, tears. For nothing is so painful to anyone as for those who have been companions at Athens to be cut off from Athens and from each other. Then a pitiable sight took place, worthy of record. The company of our comrades and age-mates, and some of our teachers too, surrounded us and declared that they would never let us go, whatever happened; begging, forcing, persuading; what did they not say, what did they not do of the things that grieving people do? Here I will accuse myself, and I will accuse that divine and blameless soul too, bold though it is. For he, stating the reasons for his eagerness to return, proved stronger than those holding him back, and, though by force, was still allowed to depart. I was left behind at Athens, partly through my own softness (for the truth shall be told), partly betrayed by him, who was persuaded to leave one who would not leave him and to yield to those who were dragging me. It was a thing unbelievable before it happened; for it was like the cutting of one body into two and the death of both; or like the parting of calves reared and yoked together, a piteous thing, as they low for one another and cannot bear the separation. Yet my loss did not last long; for I could not bear any longer to be seen as pitiable, and to give account to everyone of our separation. After staying at Athens for no long time, longing made me the Homeric horse: breaking the bonds of those who held me, I galloped over the plains and was carried to my companion. [25] … drew me away from him: not well, perhaps, nor justly; but it drew me away. I consider whether from this there did not come upon me all the unevenness and difficulty of my life, and a way to philosophy not prosperous nor worthy of my desire and purpose. But let my affairs be led as God pleases; and may they be led better by his intercession. Him, the manifold love of God for man and his providence for our race, having made him known through many intervening stages and shown him ever more brilliant, sets forth as a lamp of the church, conspicuous and renowned, enrolling him meanwhile on the sacred thrones of the presbyterate, and through the one city of Caesarea making him a beacon to the whole world. And in what way? Not improvising his rank, nor making him wise and promoting him at the same moment, as is the case with many who now aspire to leadership, but granting him the honour by the order and law of spiritual ascent. [26] For I do not praise the disorder and lack of discipline among us, sometimes even among those who preside at the sanctuary; for I will not dare to accuse all, nor would it be just. I praise the law of sailors, which first puts the oar into the hand of the future pilot, then brings him to the prow and entrusts him with the lookout, and only so seats him at the helm, after he has beaten through much sea and studied the winds. So too in war: soldier, captain, general. This order is the best and most profitable for those who are ruled. Ours would be worth much if it were so. But as it is, the most holy order of all is in danger of being the most ridiculous of all among us. For presidency comes rather from villainy than from virtue, and the thrones belong not to the more worthy but to the more powerful. Samuel, the seer of what is to come, was among the prophets;

and so was Saul, the rejected. Rehoboam, Solomon's son, was among the kings; but so was Jeroboam, the slave and apostate. And no one is a physician or a painter who has not first studied the natures of diseases, or mixed many colours and drawn figures; but the president is found easily, without toil, fresh in his dignity, sown and springing up at once, as the myth makes the giants. We fashion saints in a day, and bid those be wise who have learned nothing and brought nothing to their rank beforehand except the wish for it. And the one loves the lower place and stands humbly, though worthy of the high,

having long practised the divine words and long disciplined the flesh into subjection to the spirit; while the other sits haughtily in front, raises his brow against his betters, does not tremble at his throne nor shudder at the sight, seeing the self-controlled man below him; but, together with power, he supposes himself wiser too, knowing badly, and deprived of good sense by his authority.

But not so the great Basil; but as in all else, so also in the order of these things he became a pattern for the many. For first reading the sacred books to the people, he, their interpreter, not disdaining this rank at the sanctuary, so praised the Lord in the seat of the presbyters, and so in that of the bishops; not stealing authority nor seizing it, nor pursuing honour, but pursued by honour, and receiving a favour not human but divine and from God. Let the account of his presidency wait, then; let us spend a little more time on his subordinate position. For this almost escaped me, though it lies in the middle of what has been said.

A disagreement arose between him and the man who presided over the church before him (whence and how, it is better to keep silent; but it arose), a man not ignoble in other respects and admirable for his piety, as the persecution of that time and his resistance to it showed, yet who suffered something human towards him. For censure touches not only the many but even the best, so that only God is wholly without stumbling and unconquered by passions. So all that was select and wiser in the church was stirred up against him; if indeed those are wiser than the many who have separated themselves from the world and consecrated their life to God. I mean our Nazirites, who are especially zealous about such things; and they, thinking it terrible to overlook their champion insulted and rejected, venture on a most dangerous thing. They plan a secession and a rending of the great and unbroken body of the church, cutting off no small part of the people, both of the lower ranks and of those in office. And this was very easy for three very powerful reasons. For the man was venerable as I think no other of our philosophers was, and able to give courage to the group if he wished; the city held under suspicion the one who had grieved him, because of the disturbance at his installation, as having received the leadership not lawfully or canonically but rather by force; and some of the bishops from the West were present, drawing to themselves all that was orthodox in the church.

What then did that noble man do, the disciple of the Peacemaker? He could neither resist those who insulted him nor those who were zealous for him, nor was it his way to fight or to tear apart the body of the church, already at war otherwise and in a dangerous state under the power of the heretics at that time. Using us as counsellors in this matter and as genuine advisers, he withdrew from here as a fugitive with us to Pontus, and presided over the monasteries there; he himself founded something worthy of memory, and embraced the desert with Elijah and John, those great philosophers, thinking this more profitable for him than to entertain any thought about the present situation unworthy of his philosophy, and to wreck in a storm the steering of his thoughts in calm. But though his withdrawal was so philosophical and admirable, we shall find his return better and more admirable. It happened thus.