Apology against Rufinus 3.33–3.44

I come to the gravest charge, in which, after our friendship was restored, you accuse me of faithlessness. I confess that among all the curses you either cast at me or threaten, nothing must be repelled by me so much as fraud, deceit and faithlessness. For to sin is human; to lay snares is devilish. Did we join right hands in the Anastasis, after the Lamb was sacrificed, for this, that we might steal your sheets at Rome? that dogs sent in might gnaw your uncorrected papers while you slept? And is it credible that we prepared accusers before you committed the crime? No doubt we knew what you were turning over in your mind? what another had dreamed about you? so that the Greek proverb might be fulfilled in you, and a sow teach Minerva. If I had sent Eusebius to bark, who stirred up the rage of Aterbius and the others against you? Is he not the one who judged me too a heretic because of my friendship with you? When I had satisfied him by condemning Origen's doctrines, you, shut up at home, never dared to see him, lest you either condemn what you did not wish or, openly resisting, bear the odium of heresy. Or can he not be a witness against you because he is your accuser? Before holy Epiphanius had come to Jerusalem, and given you peace with mouth and kiss but kept evil and guile in his heart; before we dictated letters to him to disparage you, so that he should write as a heretic one whom with kisses he had approved orthodox, Aterbius was barking against you at Jerusalem; and had he not gone away quickly, he would have felt the staff not of letters but of your right hand, with which you are accustomed to drive away dogs.

"Why," he says, "did you accept my falsified sheets? Why, after my translation, did you dare to fix your pen on the books Peri Archon? If I had erred as a man, you ought to have met me with private letters, and so flattered me as I now flatter you in my letters." This is my whole fault: that, accused by deceitful praises, I wished to clear myself, and this without odium to your name, so that what you alone had accused I referred to many, not objecting heresy to you but repelling it from me. Did I know you would be angry if I wrote against heretics? You had said that you took away heretical things from Origen's books: I believed you were no longer a supporter of heretics, and therefore I inveighed not against you but against heretics; and if I was too vehement in this, forgive me. I thought I should please you too. You say that your sheets were brought into public by the theft and plots of my servants, though they lay hidden in your room, or were only with the man who had charged you with the task. And how is it that above you confess that either no one had them or very few? If they lay hidden in your room, how were they with the man who had charged you with the task? But if the one man for whom they had been written had received them to be hidden, then they did not lie hidden only in your room, nor did the few have them whom you testified had them. You charge that they were taken away by theft, and again accuse that they were bought with great money and countless goods. In one matter and in a short letter, how much variety and discord of lying! May you accuse, and I not defend? When you accuse, you do not think of your friend. When I answer, then the right of friendship comes into your mind. Tell me, I pray: had you written the sheets to be hidden or to be published? If to be hidden, why did you write them? If to be published, why did you hide them?

"But in this I am to be blamed, that I did not restrain your accusers, my friends." Do you want me to bring out their letters, in which they accuse me of hypocrisy, because, knowing you a heretic, I kept silent; because, while I incautiously offer peace, I took up the internal wars of the church? You call them my disciples, who suspect me of being your fellow pupil. And because I was rather sparing in refuting your praises, they think me your fellow-initiate. Your prologue gave me this: that as a friend you hurt me more than as an enemy. They had once persuaded themselves (rightly or wrongly, they must see) that you are a heretic. If I wish to defend you, I will gain only this, that they accuse me together with you. In short, they object your praise to me, and think you wrote it not deceitfully but truly; and what you always praised in me before, they vehemently charge. What do you want me to do? To hold my disciples as accusers for your sake? To take on my own breast darts hurled at a friend?

For the books Peri Archon you even owe me thanks. For you, as you say, cutting off everything harmful, put better things in their place. I expressed them as they stood in the Greek. From this both your faith and the heresy of him whom you translated appear. It was written to me from the City by men eminent in Christ (Pammachius and Oceanus): "Answer your accuser, lest, if you keep silent, you seem to have consented." All with one voice demanded that I expose Origen's tricks, and show the poisons of the heretics to be avoided by Roman ears. What has this to do with injury to you? Are you the only one to have translated these books, and have you no partners in this work? Are you one of the Seventy translators, so that after your edition others may not translate? See, I too, as you say, translated many little books from Greek into Latin: you also have the power to translate them again as you wish; for both good and bad are imputed to their author. This would happen with you too, had you not said that you cut away the heretical and translated the best. For this is your knot, which cannot be untied. But if you erred as a man, condemn your former opinion.

But what will you do about your Apology, which you wrote for Origen's works? What about the volume of Eusebius? in which, though you changed much, and translated a heretic's writings under the name of a martyr, you nevertheless set down many things that do not agree with the church's faith. You even turn Latin books into Greek for us: will you forbid us to give our people foreign ones? If I had answered in another work, in which you had not hurt me, I might have seemed to translate what you had translated in order to injure you, to show you either unskilled or deceitful. But now a new kind of complaint: you grieve that you were answered in the very matter in which I was accused by you. It was said that Rome had been overturned by your translation; all demanded of me a remedy for this. Not that I was of any account; but those who asked thought I was something. You were the friend who had translated it: what do you want me to do? Must we obey God rather than men? Guard the Lord's substance, or conceal a fellow servant's theft? Can I not appease you unless I too commit with you things to be accused? If you had made no mention of my name, if you had not adorned me with excellent praises, I could have had some refuge, and pleaded various reasons for not translating again what had been translated. You, friend, compelled me to waste some days on this work, to bring into the open what Charybdis ought to have devoured; and yet, though hurt, I kept the rights of friendship toward you, and as far as was in me, so defended myself as not to accuse you. You are too suspicious and querulous, who refer to your own insult what is said against heretics. But if I cannot be your friend otherwise than by being a friend of heretics, I will bear your enmity more lightly than their friendship.

You also think I invented a new lie, composing a letter to you in my name as if written long ago, so that I may seem good and modest; which you never received at all. This can very easily be proved. Many at Rome have copies of it, from about three years ago, who did not wish to send it to you, knowing what you were bandying about my name and what wicked things, unworthy of the Christian profession, you were inventing. I wrote it unknowing, as to a friend. They did not deliver it to him whom they knew to be an enemy, sparing both my error and your conscience. And at the same time you argue that if I had written such a letter to you, I ought not to have written many evil things against you in another little book. This is your whole error, and this your just complaint: that what we say against heretics you pretend was said against you; and unless we spare them, you think you are violated. Or do we not give you bread because we dash the stone against the heretics' brains? And so that you may not approve our letter, you say that Pope Anastasius's too rests on a similar fraud, about which I answered you before: if you suspect that it is not his, you have where to convict us of falsehood before him. But if it is his, as this year's letters against you also prove, in vain and falsely do you try to accuse it as false, since from his true letter we show that ours is true.

In excusing your lie, how elegant you wished to be: and so as not to produce the six thousand books of Origen, you demand of me the writings of Pythagoras. Where is that confidence with which, with puffed cheeks, you so often sounded that you had corrected in the books Peri Archon what you had read in other books of Origen, and had given back to them not others' but their own? From so great a forest of books you cannot produce one shrub or shoot. These are the true smokes, these the mists, which, while you charge me with them, you know have been quenched and dispersed in you by me; nor do you lower your broken neck, but with more impudence than unskilfulness you say I deny what is at hand, so that, having promised mountains of gold, you do not bring out of your treasures even a leather coin. I recognize just hatreds against me, and you rave against us with a true madness. For unless I boldly demanded what does not exist, you would seem to have what you do not have. You demand from me the books of Pythagoras. Who told you that his volumes exist? Are not these the words in my letter which you accuse? "But suppose that I erred in youth, and, trained in the studies of the philosophers, that is, of the Gentiles, at the beginning of my faith did not know the Christian doctrines, and thought there was in the apostles what I had read in Pythagoras and Plato and Empedocles." I spoke of their doctrines, not of their books, which I could learn in Cicero, Brutus, and Seneca. Read the little speech for Vatinius, and others where mention is made of the brotherhoods. Turn over Tully's dialogues. Look at the whole coast of Italy, which was once called Great Greece, and you will recognize bronzes inscribed with public letters of Pythagorean doctrines. Whose are those Golden Precepts? Are they not Pythagoras's? in which all his doctrines are briefly contained, and on which the philosopher Iamblichus commented in a very broad work, imitating in part Moderatus, a most eloquent man, and Archippus and Lysis, hearers of Pythagoras. Of these, Archippus and Lysis had schools in Greece, that is, at Thebes, who, holding their teacher's precepts by memory, used their memory in place of books; from them comes this saying: "By every device we must banish, and cut away with fire and sword and every means, sickness from the body, ignorance from the soul, luxury from the belly, sedition from the city, discord from the house, and from all things in common, excess." Which we can turn into Latin thus: "By every means must be put to flight and cut off: languor from the body, unskill from the mind, luxury from the belly, sedition from the city, discord from the house, and in common from all things, intemperance." These too are Pythagorean precepts: "That friends have all things in common. That a friend is another self; and that two times above all are to be cared for, morning and evening, that is, what we are about to do and what we have done. That after God, truth is to be worshipped, which alone makes men nearest to God." And those riddles which Aristotle follows up most carefully in his books: "Do not overstep the balance," that is, "do not transgress justice." "Do not stir fire with a sword," that is, do not provoke an angry and swollen mind with abusive words. "The crown is not to be plucked," that is, "the laws of cities are to be kept." "The heart is not to be eaten," that is, "grief is to be cast out of the mind." "When you have set out," he says, "do not return," that is, "after death do not long for this life." "Do not walk on the public road," that is, "do not follow the errors of the many." "A swallow is not to be received into the house," that is, "chatterers and wordy men are not to be kept under the same roof." "Burden is to be put on the burdened; with those laying it down you must not share," that is, "for those advancing to virtue precepts are to be increased; those giving themselves to ease are to be left." And since I had said I had read Pythagorean doctrines, hear what Pythagoras first discovered among the Greeks: that souls are immortal and pass from some bodies into others. Which Virgil too follows in the sixth book of the Aeneid, saying:

That he had been first Euphorbus, second Callides, third Hermotimus, fourth Pyrrhus, and lastly Pythagoras; and that after certain cycles of time what had been comes to be again, and nothing in the world is to be seen as new. That philosophy is the meditation of death, daily striving to lead out the freedom of the soul from the prison of the body; that learnings are recollections; and much else which Plato pursues in his books, especially in the Phaedo and Timaeus. For after the Academy and countless disciples, feeling that much was lacking to his teaching, he came to Great Greece, and there, instructed in Pythagoras's teaching by Archytas of Tarentum and Timaeus of Locri, he mixed the elegance and charm of Socrates with his disciplines: all of which, with the name changed, Origen is convicted of having transferred into his books Peri Archon. In what, then, did I err, if I said that as a young man I thought there was in the apostles what I had read in Pythagoras and Plato and Empedocles? Not, as you slander and invent, in the books of Pythagoras and Plato and Empedocles, but what I had read were in them, and others' writings taught me they had held. And this kind of expression is very frequent: as if I should say, "The doctrines I read in Socrates I thought true." Not that Socrates wrote any books; but that I read in Plato and other Socratics that he had held them. And again: "I wished to imitate the deeds I had read in Alexander and Scipio": not that they described their own deeds, but that I read in others what I admired they had done. Even if, then, I could not show that writings of Pythagoras himself exist, nor prove them by his son and daughter and other disciples, you would not hold me guilty of lying, because I said I had read not books but doctrines; and you err in vain, thinking that I wished to protect your lie, so that unless I produce one book of Pythagoras you lose six thousand books of Origen.

I will come to the epilogues, that is, your curses, in which you exhort me to repentance, and unless I am converted, that is, unless I keep silent when you accuse, you threaten me with destruction. And you announce that this scandal will redound on my head, who by my answer provoked you, a most gentle man of Mosaic meekness, to the madness of writing. For you boast that you know crimes which I confessed to you alone, as a most dear friend, and that they will be brought into the open; that I am to be painted in my own colours; and that I ought to remember that I lay at your feet, lest you cut off my head with the sword of your mouth. And after much in which you exult furiously, you call yourself back and say you desire peace, only on condition that from now on I keep silent, that is, that I do not write against heretics nor dare to answer your accusation. If I do this, I shall be a brother and colleague, a most eloquent man, and friend and companion; and, what is greater than these, you will judge catholic everything I translated of Origen. But if I mutter and stir, at once I shall be impure and heretical and unworthy of your friendship. These are my praises; so you exhort me to peace, and you do not grant that even groans and tears are free to grief.

I too could paint you in your own colours, and rage against one raging, and say whatever I know or do not know; and with the same licence, or rather fury and madness, heap up things false or true, so that I should be ashamed to say and you to hear; and object to you things which would condemn either the accuser or the accused, so that by the hardness of my brow I might win the reader's belief, and what I wrote shamelessly might be judged written truly. But far be it from Christian ways that, while seeking others' blood, they offer their own, and are murderers without a sword, by will. This befits your goodness and gentleness and simplicity, who from one dunghill of your breast bring out both the odour of roses and the stench of corpses, and, against the prophetic sentence, call bitter what you had praised as sweet. Nor is it necessary that in church treatises we air a matter of the tribunals; and you will hear nothing more about this except that saying from the crossroads: "When you have said what you want, you will hear what you do not want." Or if a common proverb seems cheap to you, and a most wise man is better pleased with the sayings of philosophers and poets, read that Homeric line:

Do you want me, then, to keep silent? Do not accuse. Lay down the sword, and I will throw away the shield. In one thing I cannot agree with you: to spare heretics, not to prove myself catholic. If this is the cause of discord, I can die; I cannot keep silent. I ought indeed to have answered from all of Scripture your madness, and, like David playing the harp, soothed the fury of your breast with divine words; but I will be content with a few testimonies of one book, and set wisdom against folly, so that if you despise human things you may at least not neglect the divine. Hear, then, what the wise Solomon says of you and of all the envious, reviling and insulting: "Fools, while they are eager for insults, having become impious, hated understanding. Do not devise evil against your friend. And do not be at enmity with a man without cause. The impious exalt insult. Cut off from you a crooked mouth, and drive unjust lips far from you: the eyes of the insolent, the tongue of the unjust, hands shedding the blood of the just, a heart devising evil thoughts, and feet hastening to do evil. He who relies on lies feeds the winds and follows flying birds. For he has left the ways of his vineyard, and made the axles of his husbandry go astray. He walks through dry and desert land, and gathers barrenness with his hands. The mouth of the rash draws near to ruin; and he who utters curses is most foolish. Every simple man is a blessed soul; the passionate man is dishonourable. By the sins of his lips the sinner falls into a snare. The ways of fools are right in their own sight. The fool shows his anger the same day. Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord. He who guards his mouth keeps his soul; and he who is rash with his lips will terrify himself. The wicked man does evil with insult, and the fool spreads out his malice. You will seek wisdom among the wicked and not find it. The rash man will be filled with his own ways. The wise man by fearing turns from evil; the fool, confident, mingles with it. The long-suffering man is great in prudence; the faint-hearted is very imprudent. He who slanders the poor provokes his maker. The tongue of the wise knows good things, and the mouth of fools pronounces evil. The passionate man prepares quarrels, and everyone who exalts his heart is unclean before God. He who lays hand on hand unjustly will not go unpunished. He who loves life spares his mouth. Insult goes before ruin, and an evil thought before a fall. He who fixes his eyes devises perverse things, and provokes all evils with his lips. The lips of a fool lead him into evils, and the bold mouth calls for death. The malicious man will suffer many losses. Better is a just poor man than a lying rich one. It is glory to a man to turn away from curses; but he who is a fool binds himself to them. Do not love to disparage, lest you be uprooted. Sweet to a man is the bread of lying; afterwards his mouth will be filled with gravel. He who gathers treasures by a lying tongue pursues vain things and will come into the snares of death. Do not say anything in the ear of a fool, lest he mock your wise words. A club and a sword and an arrow are deadly: so also is a man who bears false witness against his friend. As birds and sparrows fly away, so an idle curse will not come upon him. Do not answer a fool according to his folly, lest you become like him; but answer a fool according to his folly, lest he seem wise to himself. He who lies in wait for his friends, when he is seen, says, I did it in jest. A gridiron to coals, and wood to fire, and a reviling man to the tumult of strife. If your enemy asks you with a loud voice, do not consent to him: for there are seven wickednesses in his soul. A stone is heavy and sand hardly bearable, but the anger of a fool is heavier than both. Wrath is cruel and anger sharp, and jealousy impatient. The impious slanders the poor: and he who trusts in the boldness of his heart is most foolish. The fool brings out all his anger; the wise man deals it out in parts. An evil son has swords for teeth and knives for molars, to consume the weak from the earth and the poor from among men." Taught, then, by these examples, I did not wish to bite one biting, nor to fulfil retaliation; and I preferred to charm away the madness of the furious, and to pour into a poisoned breast the antidote of one book. But I fear lest, profiting nothing, I be compelled to sing that saying of David and console myself with these words: "Sinners were estranged from the womb; they went astray from the belly. They spoke falsehood; their fury is after the likeness of a serpent: like the deaf asp that stops its ears, which will not hear the voice of charmers, of the enchanter charming wisely. God will break their teeth in their mouth: the Lord will shatter the molars of the lions. They will come to nothing, like water running away. He bends his bow until they are weakened. Like wax that melts they will be taken away: fire fell on them, and they did not see the sun." And again: "The righteous will rejoice when he sees the vengeance of the impious: he will wash his hands in the blood of the sinner. And man will say: If indeed there is fruit for the righteous, indeed there is a God judging them on the earth."

At the end of your letter you write with your own hand: "I hope you love peace." To which I will answer briefly: if you desire peace, lay down your arms. I can yield to one who flatters; I do not fear one who threatens. Let there be one faith between us, and peace will follow at once.