101: To Cledonius the Presbyter / 102: To the Same

in which we looked upon them with fraternal affection rather than with hostile intent, seizing it as an opportunity and a subsidy for their own perversity. ^A To this indignity is also added the fact that they claim, as I hear, to have been received by the Western synod 25, by which they had previously been condemned, as is clear to everyone. If, therefore, those who hold the opinions of Apollinarius have been received, either now or previously, let them demonstrate this, and we shall be satisfied. For it is clear 26 that they must have consented to the orthodox faith; for it is not possible 27 otherwise, if they have indeed achieved this. They will certainly demonstrate this, either through a synodal libellus or through letters of communion; for this is the law of synods. But if this story is mere fabrication and pretense, devised for the sake of a specious appearance and in order to gain credibility with the multitude through the weight of authority attached to certain persons, teach them to be quiet, and refute them. For we believe that this is befitting to your manner of life and to orthodoxy.

Let not men deceive, nor be deceived, by accepting the "Dominical man" 28 as mind-less, as they themselves say, or rather [refusing to accept] our Lord and God. For we do not separate the man from the divinity, but we profess one and the same [person], first not as man, but as God and the only Son 29, pre-eternal, without body and [freed] from all things pertaining to the body, but in the end also as man, taken up for our salvation, passible in flesh, impassible in divinity, ^B circumscribed by body, uncircumscribed by Spirit, the same [being] earthly and heavenly, visible and intelligible, containing and uncontained, so that in the whole man, the same [being] both [man] and God, the whole man might be refashioned, having fallen under sin.

If anyone does not acknowledge the holy Mary as Theotokos 30, he is outside the divinity. If anyone says that He passed through the Virgin as through a pipe 32, and was not formed in her both divinely and humanly—divinely, because it was without a man; humanly, because it was by the law of gestation 33—he is likewise godless. If anyone says that the man was formed and then the Word entered 34 into him, he is to be condemned. For this is not the birth of God, but a flight from birth.

If anyone introduces two Sons, one who is from God and the Father, and a second one from the mother, and not rather one and the same, may he fall from the adoption of sons ^A promised to those who rightly believe. For there are two natures, God and man, just as there are soul and body; but there are not two sons, nor two Gods. For neither are there two men here, even if Paul has spoken in this way of the inner and outer man. And if we must speak briefly, the things from which the Savior is are one thing and another (for the invisible is not the same as the visible, nor the timeless the same as that which is subject to time), but He is not one person and another; God forbid. For both are one in the commixture ^B, God having become man, and man having been deified, or whatever else one might call it. I say "one thing and another" in the opposite sense to what applies in the Trinity. For there, it is "one person and another," so that we do not confuse the hypostases; but it is not "one thing and another," for the three are one and the same in divinity. If anyone should say that he worked by grace, as in a prophet, and was not joined and united according to essence, may he be empty of the higher working, or rather full of the opposite. If anyone does not worship the Crucified, let him be anathema, and let him be ranked with the deicides. If anyone says that he was perfected by works, or after baptism, or after the resurrection from the dead, as being worthy of the adoption of sons, just as the ^C Greeks introduce them as interpolated, let him be anathema.

^A For that which has had a beginning, or is progressing, or is being perfected, is not God, even if these things are said of him because he manifested himself little by little. If any one says that the holy flesh is now laid aside, and that the Godhead is bare and without a body, and does not say that it is and will be with the assumption, let him not see the glory of his coming. For where is the body now, if not with that nature from which it was assumed? For it has not, according to the ravings of the Manichaeans, been deposited in the sun, that it might be honored through dishonor; nor has it been poured out into the air and dissolved, ^B like the nature of a voice, or the flowing of a scent, or the course of a flash of lightning which does not stand. And where shall we place the fact that he was handled after the resurrection, or that he will sometime be seen by those who pierced him? For the Godhead by itself is invisible. But he will come with the body, as my argument holds, yet such as he was seen by the disciples on the mountain, or was shown, the Godhead surpassing the little flesh. And as we say these things to ward off suspicion, so we write those things to correct the novelty.

If any one says that the flesh descended from heaven, and was not from here and from us, even if it is above us, let him be anathema. ^C For the saying, *The second man is from heaven*, and, *As is the heavenly one, such are also the heavenly ones*, and, *No one has ascended into heaven, except him who descended from heaven, the Son of man*, and whatever else is of this kind, must be regarded as being said because of the conjunction with the heavenly, just as the statement that all things were made through Christ, and that Christ dwells in your hearts—not according to the visible aspect of God, but according to what is understood—the natures being, so to speak, commingled, and thus the titles also, and passing into one another by the logic of their union.

If any one has hoped in a man without a mind, he is truly senseless and not worthy at all to be saved. For that which is not assumed is not healed; but that which is united to God ^D is also saved.

^A If Adam fell by half, then that which is assumed and saved is also by half. But if he fell entirely, he is united to the whole [that is, to the complete human nature] which was born, and he is saved entirely. Let them not, therefore, begrudge us our total salvation, nor let them attribute to the Savior only bones, and nerves, and a mere picture of a man. For if man is soulless, this also the Arians say, in order to shift the suffering onto the Divinity, as if the One who moves the body also suffers. But if he is ensouled, and yet lacks a mind, how is he even a man? For man is not an animal without a mind. It would necessitate that while the shape [of the Savior] was human and his form, the soul would be that of some horse, or ox, or another of the unreasoning animals. That, then, would be the thing being saved; and I would have been deceived by the Truth, in that another was honored, but someone else boasted and exulted. But if man has a mind, and is not mindless, let them cease ^B from suffering from actual mindless folly.

But, he says, the Divinity was sufficient in place of the mind. What, then, is that to me? For Divinity with flesh alone is not a human being, nor even [with] a soul alone, nor [with] both without the mind, which is what is even more [truly] human. Therefore, retain the whole human being, and join the Divinity, so that you may benefit me fully and perfectly. But, you say, it could not contain two perfect things. Not indeed, if you view the matter in a corporeal way. For a vessel capable of one modius will not contain two, nor within the space of one body can two or more bodies fit. But if you consider them as intelligible and incorporeal things, observe that the same self has contained both soul, and reason, and mind, and the Holy Spirit; and even ^C before me, this world (that is to say, the system consisting of visible and invisible things) has contained the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. For such is the nature of things that fall under the intellect: to be mixed in an incorporeal and indivisible way, both with each other and with bodies. For even the ear is capable of many voices at once, and many [diverse] sights can be seen by the same eyes, and fragrances can be perceived by the same sense of smell, so that the senses are neither crowded by one another, nor compressed, nor are the objects of sense diminished by the multitude of the perception.

^A But how indeed can the mind of a man or an angel be called "perfect," when compared with the divinity, so that the one is compelled to give way to the presence of the greater? For a glimmer of light is nothing when compared to the sun, nor is a little moisture compared to a river, in order that we might first dispose of the small things—a glimmer from a house, moisture from the earth—and thus grasp the greater and more perfect things. For how shall two perfect things be contained together—a house with its light and the sun, the earth with its moisture and a river? Let us examine this, for the matter is indeed worthy of great care and attention. Or are they ignorant that a thing which is perfect in relation to one thing is imperfect in relation to another, just as a hill is compared to a mountain, and a mustard seed compared to a bean, or to some other larger seed, even if it is called greater than those of its own kind? Or, if you prefer, consider an angel in relation to God, and a man in relation to an angel? Our mind, then, is perfect ^B and holds the primacy, but that is in relation to the soul and body; it is not simply perfect, but is the servant and subordinate of God, not his associate in authority nor endowed with equal honor. For even Moses is a god to Pharaoh, but a servant of God, as it is written; and the stars illustrate the night, but are obscured by the sun, so that by day it is not even known that they exist; and a small lamp, when it approaches a great bonfire, is neither destroyed, nor does it appear, nor is it separated, but it is all bonfire, the greater having overcome it. ^C But, he says, our mind is condemned. What then? Is the flesh not condemned? Why then do you either reject this too on account of sin, or join that one also for the sake of salvation? If the inferior part was assumed so that it might be sanctified through the incarnation, shall the superior part not be assumed so that it might be sanctified through the taking on of humanity? If the clay has been leavened and become a new lump, O wise men, shall the image itself not be leavened and be tempered with God, having been deified through the divinity? We shall add this also: if the mind, as sinful and condemned, is altogether spurned and rejected, and for that reason the body was assumed while the mind was left aside, then it is right to pardon those who sin regarding the mind. For by the testimony of God, according to your opinion, ^D it has been clearly shown that it is impossible for it to be healed. Shall I say what is greater? You indeed, O best of men, because of this despise my mind as a flesh-worshipper—if I am a man-worshipper—so that you might bind...

^A God to the flesh, as if He could not be bound otherwise, and because of this you remove the middle wall. But what is my argument, that of a man unphilosophical and unlearned? The mind is joined to the mind as being nearer and more akin, and through it, it mediates between the divinity and the bulk of the flesh. ^B

But let us see, too, what is their own reason for the assumption of humanity, or as they themselves say, the incarnation. If it be that God, being otherwise uncontainable, might be contained, and might converse with men as if under a veil of flesh, this is surely a clever mask for them, and a drama of hypocrisy; not to mention that it was possible for Him to converse with us in another way, just as formerly in the bush of fire and human form. But if it be that He might, by like sanctifying like, loosen the condemnation of sin, then surely, just as there was need of flesh because of the flesh that was condemned, and of soul because of the soul, so also there was need of mind because of the mind—which not only sinned in Adam, but was the first to be affected, as physicians say regarding diseases. For that which received the commandment, this also did not keep the commandment; and that which did not keep it, this also dared the transgression; and that which transgressed, this also stood most in need of salvation; and that which stood in need of salvation, this also was assumed. It follows, therefore, that the mind was assumed.

This, then, has now been demonstrated, even if they be unwilling, by geometric and, as they say, necessary demonstrations. But you act in a way similar to this: as if, with a man’s eye and foot both injured, you were to apply medicine to the foot, but leave the eye uncured; or as if, when a painter had drawn something not quite correctly, you were to alter the painting but pass over the painter, as if he had performed his task correctly. But if, prevented by these arguments, they flee to saying that it is possible for God, even with the mind removed, to bring salvation to man, then certainly He could have done so with the flesh removed, by will alone, just as He works and has worked all other things without the labor of a body. Remove, therefore, the flesh along with the mind, that your recklessness may be complete and perfect. But indeed, they are deceived by the letter, and on account of this they resort to the flesh, ^D and to the habit of Scripture, ^C ignoring that we shall teach them even this. For that everywhere in Scripture the...

man and Son of man is called ^A by name, what need is there to speak to those who know it? But if they rely upon this text, *The Word became flesh and dwelt among us* (John I, 14), and on this account they pare away that which is most excellent in man—just as tanners pare the thicker parts of skins—in order that they may glue God to flesh, it is time for them to say that God is only the God of flesh, and not also of souls, because it is written: *As Thou hast given Him authority over all flesh* (John XVII, 2); and, *To Thee shall all flesh come* (Ps. LXIV, 3); and, *Let all flesh bless His holy name* (Ps. CXLIV, 21); that is to say, every man. Or again, that our fathers descended into Egypt incorporeal and invisible, and that the soul of Joseph alone was cast into chains by Pharaoh (Act. VII, 14), because it is written: *In seventy-five souls they descended into Egypt*, and, *The iron pierced his soul* (Ps. CV, 18), a thing which cannot be bound by chains. For they who say these things are ignorant that such matters are stated by synecdoche, the whole being indicated by the part; just as Scripture also says, *And the nestlings of the ravens call upon God* (Job XXXVIII, 41), that the nature of birds might be indicated, and Pleias and Vesper and Arcturus (Job XXXVIII, 31, 32) are mentioned instead of all the stars and God’s providence concerning them. ^B And at the same time, it was not otherwise possible for the love of God toward us to be manifested than by the mention of the flesh, and that for our sake He descended even to the meaner part. For that flesh is viler than soul, no one of sound mind will deny. Therefore this passage, *The Word became flesh*, seems to me to have the same force and meaning as that He is said to have become sin and a curse (II Cor. V, 21; Gal. III, 13); not that the Lord was changed into these—for how could that be?—but because by taking these upon Himself, He took away our iniquities and bore our diseases. Let it suffice to have said these things for the present, on account of their clarity and because they are easily grasped by the many. For we are not writing to compose books, but to check error and deceit; and we shall provide a fuller and more perfect discourse on these matters later, if it seems good. ^C But that which is weightier than these, not even this ^D

it is fitting to omit: *Would that those who unsettle you were even cut off* ^A, or rather, who introduce a second Judaism, a second circumcision, and second sacrifices. For if this is true, what prevents Christ from being born again for the abrogation of these same things, and being betrayed again by Judas, and being crucified, buried, and rising again, so that all things that belong to the same sequence might be fulfilled, by the same movement of the stars, according to the Greek cycling, which brings around the same things? For what is this allotment ^B, that some of the things that happened then should occur, while others are passed over? Let the wise men, and those who pride themselves in a multitude of books, show this.

Since, however, those puffed up by that book on the Trinity falsely accuse us as being not at all sound in the faith, and entice many as if with a kind of bait, it is necessary to know this: that Apollinarius, although he gave the name of divinity to the Holy Spirit, did not keep the power of divinity. For to constitute the Trinity out of "great," and "greater," and "greatest"—that is, from the Holy Spirit, and the Son, and the Father—as if from a radiance, and a ray, and a sun (which is clearly written in his books), is a ladder of divinity, not leading up to heaven, but leading down from heaven. But we acknowledge God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit ^C; and these are not mere names, dividing inequalities of dignities or powers, but one and the same—as the name is one, so also is the nature, and essence, and power of the divinity.

But if anyone thinks these things are rightly said by us, but objects to the communion of the heretics, let someone demonstrate that this is our own; and then we will either persuade, or we will withdraw. But before a judgment, it is not safe to innovate in anything else, much less in so great a matter, and concerning such great things. We, for our part, have testified and do testify to these things both before God and before men. And know well that not even now would we have written these things, if we did not see the Church being torn and rent asunder, both by other impostures, and by the present council of vanity. But if anyone, when we say these things and testify, [does so] either through certain needs ^D,

fear of man, or through some absurd pusillanimity, or because of the current lack of a shepherd and governor, or because one delights in strange and unusual things and is ready for innovations, scorns us as worthy of no account and runs to such people, and divides the fair body of the Church, he himself shall bear the judgment, whoever he may be, and shall render an account to God on the day of judgment. But if these long books, and new Psalters, and compositions ^B sounding contrary to David, and the elegance of their meters, are considered a third Testament, then we too shall compose psalms, and write many things, and put them into meter; since we also consider ourselves to have the Spirit of God—if indeed this is the grace of the Spirit, and not rather some human innovation. I wish you to attest these things to the multitude, that we may not be burdened as though we were ignoring such an evil, and through our own sloth allowing a wicked dogma to spread more widely and gain strength.

CII. TO CLEDONIUS AGAINST APOLLINARIUS: EPISTLE II

Gregory sends to Cledonius the rule of faith and a canon by which Catholics might test the wicked doctrines of the heretics; he discloses and refutes the craftiness and sophistries of the Apollinarists.

Since many, ^C coming to your reverence, seek assurance concerning the faith, and for that reason you have asked us in a friendly spirit for a brief rule and canon of our own views, for this reason we have written to your reverence (as indeed you knew even before our letter), that we have never preferred, nor can we prefer, anything to the faith of Nicaea, which was set forth by the holy Fathers who assembled there to overthrow the Arian heresy; but in God's grace we are, and shall be, of that faith, further explaining what was stated by them less fully concerning the Holy Spirit (because this question had not yet been raised and agitated), namely that we must acknowledge one and the same divinity of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, confessing also the Spirit to be God. Those, therefore, who so ^D

^A think and teach, count as allies, just as we ourselves do; but those who think otherwise, turn away from, and consider them to be aliens both to God and to the Catholic Church.

Since, however, a question is also being raised among all of us regarding the divine assumption of humanity, or incarnation, affirm this also, that we join into one the Son of God—who was begotten of the Father first, and after that of the holy Virgin Mary—and do not name two sons, but worship one and the same in inseparable divinity and honor. And if anyone does not agree with these things, whether now or hereafter, he himself shall render an account to God on the day of judgment.

^B Our contention and opposition against their witless opinion concerning the mind is, to put it briefly, as follows: for they alone almost truly suffer what they profess, through their senselessness in cutting away the mind. But lest they accuse us, as though we rejected the faith of the beloved Vitalius ^C—which, upon being requested by the blessed Damasus, bishop of Rome, he provided in writing, and which we once accepted but now renounce—let us also say a few words about this. For these men, whenever they converse about divinity with their own genuine disciples and those privy to their mysteries—just as the Manichaeans do with those they call the elect, revealing their whole malady—scarcely even attribute a human body to the Savior. But when they are convicted and pressured by common notions concerning the incarnation, which Scripture sets forth, they confess pious expressions, yet weave deceptions regarding their sense and understanding. They do not, indeed, confess the man to be devoid of soul, or reason, or mind, or to be imperfect; but, in place of soul, reason, and mind, they introduce ^D the divinity itself, as though it alone were tempered and joined with the body, and not also our human things and properties, even if that [divinity] was purer than our human condition, and an expiation for our wretched passions.

^A Thus, certainly, they interpret also that text, *But we have the mind of Christ* (1 Cor. II, 16), perversely and very foolishly, contending that by the "mind of Christ" is signified the divinity; and they do not interpret this passage according to our manner, namely that those who have purified their own mind, by imitation of that mind which the Savior assumed for us, and have disciplined it towards Him as much as is possible, are said to have the mind of Christ. Just as those also might be said to have the flesh of Christ who have disciplined the flesh, and have by this means become of one body and partakers of Christ (Ephes. III, 6). And, *As we have borne the image of the earthly,* he says, *so shall we also bear the image of the heavenly* (1 Cor. XV, 49). Thus also, to them, the perfect man is not he who has experienced all our things, sin excepted, but that mixture of God and flesh is what is taught as dogma. For what, they say, is more perfect than this?

^B The same thing they wickedly and craftily manipulate also regarding the word of the incarnation, "he became man," not explaining it as meaning that He existed in the man whom He joined to Himself, according to that which the Scripture says, *For He Himself knew what was in man* (John II, 25); but saying and teaching that it is the same thing as His having had dealings and having conversed with men. And they take refuge in that saying: *After this He was seen on earth, and conversed with men* (Baruch III, 38). And why should anyone struggle further? They, in casting off the man and the inner image, cleanse only the outside of us through this new mask and visible guise; they are in such contradiction with themselves, that now, on account of the flesh, they interpret the rest in a gross and carnal way (for from this has flowed for them a second Judaism, and that thousand-year, foolish ^C pleasure in paradise, and almost the same things being taken up again by us in the same things); and at other times they introduce a phantom rather than the truth of flesh, as if it had suffered nothing of ours, not even those things which are free from sin. And they use for this purpose the apostolic word—though not understanding or pronouncing it apostolically—that our Savior was made in the likeness of men, and was found in fashion as a man, as though the human species were not defined in these things.

^A Since, therefore, these expressions, if rightly understood, are joined with piety, but if misinterpreted, are not free from impiety, what is the wonder if we indeed interpreted the words of Vitalius in a more pious sense, as our own will persuaded us, while others are exasperated and inflamed at the meaning of what is written? This is the very reason, I believe, why Damasus himself, when later he had been more correctly informed and heard that they persisted in their former expositions, excommunicated them from the assembly of the Church and destroyed [their] libellus of faith, together with its anathema; for he was distressed at the fraud into which he had, through simplicity, fallen.

^B Since, therefore, they are clearly convicted of these things, let them not be indignant, but let them be covered with shame. Let them not assail us with lies, but let them humble their souls; and let them erase from the vestibules of their buildings that great and admirable eulogy and proclamation of orthodoxy, with which they immediately meet those entering with such a question and distinction: that it is necessary to worship, namely, not a man who is "God-bearing" (Deiferum), but a God who is "flesh-bearing" (carniferum). What could be conceived of more foolish than this, even if those new heralds of truth boast greatly in this name? For although, on account of the speed of the inversion, it has a certain sophistic charm—a sort of juggling trick of arithmetic, delighting the minds of the ignorant—nevertheless, nothing more ridiculous, nothing more foolish and dull can be imagined. ^C For if someone were to substitute this word, "man," and also this word, "flesh," for "God" (of which one is pleasing to us, the other to them), and then use this remarkable and "divinely-known" inversion, what would be the result? Surely, that one ought to worship not flesh that is "God-bearing," but a God who is "man-bearing" (hominiferum). O immense absurdity! They announce to us today a wisdom that has been hidden since Christ; this is something truly worthy of tears. For if the faith began only thirty years ago, when nearly four hundred years have already elapsed since Christ was manifested, then our Gospel has been empty for so long a time, and our faith is empty, and in vain have the martyrs endured martyrdom, and in vain have such and so great ^D prelates presided over the people, and the grace belongs to the lines of verse and not to the faith.

And who would not admire their learning, ^A they who clearly divide the things of Christ, and attribute to the human part, "He was born," and "He was tempted," and "He hungered," and "He thirsted," and "He was weary," and "He slept"; but to the divinity, that "He was glorified by angels," and "He conquered the tempter," and "He fed the people in the wilderness," and "He fed them thus," and "He walked upon the sea"? And those who say that "Where have you laid Lazarus?" belongs to our weakness, but that "Lazarus, come forth," when He cried out and raised the man who had been dead four days, places Him above us; and who affirm that "He was in agony," and "He was crucified," and "He was buried" belong to the outward garment, but that "He took courage," and "He rose again," and "He ascended" belong to the inner treasure: when, I say, they divide the things of Christ in this manner, they nevertheless accuse us as if we were introducing two ^B separate or warring natures, and dividing the supernatural and wonderful union. And yet it would have been fitting that they either not do what they accuse [us of], or not accuse what they themselves do, if only they had resolved to be consistent with themselves, and not say both their own things and the things of their adversaries. Such a thing is folly: it fights both with itself and with the truth, so that when they are inconsistent with themselves, they neither understand nor blush.

But if anyone thinks that we are writing or saying these things willingly, and not as if constrained, and that we are discouraging unity and not using every effort to pursue it, let him know that he thinks wrongly and does not perceive the aim of our desire; for there is nothing, nor has there ever been anything, more precious to us than peace, as the facts themselves bear witness, although the things they practice and attempt against us entirely exclude concord. ^C

CIII. TO PALLADIUS

If anyone were to ask me what is the most beautiful thing among those in life, I would say it is friends. And among these, who should most especially be honored? I would say, the good. And among these, whom do you name first? I know well that I should set none other before your virtue. And I write these things,

respecting not the power ^A but the character, of which we are perhaps small heralds, yet we are not failing in what is within our power, and [we are] not heralds only, but fellow-combatants as well, contributing our prayers to help the cause. Until this point I had intended to end the letter; but since we not only worship the divine, but also ask that it grant us some benefit, do you also accept this, not as though you were being troubled by us (for our affairs are no burden to you; this I can infer from what has preceded), but that you might be reminded by us. I once again bring to you your suppliant Euphemius, and I once again entreat you not only to receive the young man kindly and to pardon him for his slowness—since, having taken charge of orphan affairs, he was necessarily occupied with his small household and family—but also to be eager to advance him further, both for the sake of our own reputation and for the glory of your own goodness. For though there are many whom you have benefited and continue to benefit, none of this will contribute any less to your own glory, as I have already explained in person. And now I ask to be believed; for he is the same person who is to be pitied because of his orphanhood, and dear to us because of his character, not to speak of our kinship by blood.

CIV. TO OLYMPIUS

Olympius, to whom this letter was written in the year 382, was prefect of Second Cappadocia, in which Arianzus is situated, as the following letters abundantly prove; since these concern the beginnings of his prefecture, we place them separately this year. Wishing to accuse no one, Gregory implores the aid of Olympius for Philumena, who is to explain what she has suffered.

All other benefits which I have received, I know that I have received from your ^C gentleness: and I pray that God may repay you with His own good things for these, and among other things, that you may complete the course of your prefecture with splendor and glory. But that which I now ask of you is of such a nature that I would rather be the giver than the receiver, unless this is said by me too arrogantly. I present the wretched Philumena to you with my own hand, that she may cast herself at the feet of your justice, and present to you those tears by which she is breaking my own heart. And what injuries she has suffered, and by whom, she herself will explain. For it is not safe for me to accuse anyone. This one thing alone it is necessary to say, that widowhood and orphanhood, while they should be helped by all who have sense, are particularly so by those who have a wife and children amongst them, for the great

...of bestowing mercy ^A, since we also judge as men, being men ourselves. Yet, pray forgive us for making these requests by letter, since by reason of poor health we are deprived of a governor so skillful and endowed with such admirable virtue that even the preludes of your administration surpass the glory that others attain throughout their entire term of office.

CV. TO THE SAME

The occasion is fleeting, the crisis immense; the malady is severe, having all but rendered us motionless. What remains, but to pray to God and to entreat your humanity: the former, ^B that He might put into your mind better counsels; the latter, that you not harshly reject our mediation, but receive with a mild and gentle spirit that wretched man Paul, whom God, the arbiter of justice, has brought under your hand—perhaps for this reason, that He might make you more illustrious through the magnitude of your gentleness, and reconcile our prayers to God, if there are any such, with your own humanity.

CVI. TO THE SAME

Behold another matter for letters for you—letters of which, if one must speak the truth, you are the cause; for you ^C provoke me to make requests by the honors you bestow upon me. Behold another suppliant for you, bound by the chains of fear: he is our kinsman, Eustratius, who with us and through us falls at the feet of your goodness; neither enduring to refrain perpetually from your authority through obstinacy—even though a just fear has terrified him—nor wishing to fall at your feet through any other than myself; so that he might make the kindness shown to him more honorable by using such intercessors, whom—if nothing else—you yourself make great, by receiving ^D our entreaties in such a way. I will speak one thing, and it shall be brief. The other, prior favors you granted us; but this one you will grant by your own judgment, since you have once set your heart on comforting our old age and infirmity with such honors. I will add that you also always make the Divine more propitious to yourself.

you have induced your soul to find comfort for old age and bodily infirmity in honors of this kind. I will add that you also make the divine favor more propitious to yourself in this way.

CVII. TO CLEDONIUS

You ask what our silence means. It desires a balance of speech and taciturnity. For he who has overcome the whole will also overcome the part with less difficulty; and furthermore, it calms the agitated movements of the soul: since it is not carried outward by speech, it is consumed within itself ^A.

CVIII. TO THE SAME

CIX. TO THE SAME

CX. TO PALLADIUS

CXI. EULALIO.

^A Gratification that they may share between themselves, desires Gregory.

You devote yourself to solitude and to such immoderate fasting; I, to silence. Let us share our gifts with one another; and when we come to be as one, we shall sing the praises of God together, offering—just as we offer a reasonable silence—a divine discourse as well.

CXII. TO CELEUSIUS.

^A He rebukes Celeusius, because he does not observe the sacred fasts and proposes shameful spectacles.

I have received you even in my silence, that you might understand that the discourse of silence also makes itself known through the pen. But I shall speak things that befit our friendship and such a time as this. You act unjustly, O judge, in that you do not fast; and how shall you keep human laws, when you despise and hold divine ones for nothing? Purge your tribunal, lest one of two things befall you: that you either are evil, or are so considered. To propose shameful spectacles is to bring ^B shame upon oneself. In sum, O judge, know that you are to undergo judgment, and you will sin less. I had nothing better than this to present to you.

CXIII. EIDEM.

^A Gregory warns Celeusius that he should not judge and condemn him because he is silent.

Do not judge and condemn me for being silent, just as I do not judge you for speaking, in the matter which Paul promulgated concerning foods. But if you do judge, fear lest my tongue be stirred against you first, should it find you worthy of silence.

CXIV. TO THE SAME.

^A The silent Gregory excellently carves up and mocks the talkative Celeusius.

Since you reproach me for silence and rusticity, O fine and urbane man, come—I shall fashion for you a fable not lacking in wit, to see if perhaps by this means ^C I might be able to restrain that clumsy talkativeness of yours. Once, swallows mocked the swans, because they were unwilling to associate with men, nor to bring their art of singing into the public sphere, but lived their lives only around the meadows and rivers, embraced solitude, and sang but little; and what they did sing, they sang among themselves, just as if they were ashamed of the music. "As for us," they said, "ours are the cities, and our people, and our chambers: and we chatter to men, and set forth our affairs to them, and these—these very things—are the ancient and Attic ^D ways,"

those ^A old Attic tales, Pandion, Athens, Tereus, Thrace, the journey, the kinship, the insult, the excision of the tongue, the letters, and above all, Itys, and how we were changed from humans into birds. But the swans, because they held their chattering in abhorrence, scarcely deemed them worthy even of speech; but once they did deem them worthy: “But we,” they say, “for the sake of those, O ladies, should anyone come even into the wilderness to hear our music, when we give our wings to the Zephyr to blow, it breathes something sweet and harmonious; so that even if we do not sing many songs and in many places, yet this very thing is most beautiful in us, that we practice philosophy in the measure of our song, and we do not mingle music with brawls. But as for you, people ^B are vexed even by your settling in their houses, and they turn away from you when you sing; and quite justly, since you cannot keep silent even when your tongues have been cut out, but, lamenting your own silence and the misfortune that has befallen you, you are more chatter-prone than any of those who are eloquent and musical. Understand what I am saying,” as Pindar says; “and if you find my silence better than your eloquence, cease from disparaging our silence; otherwise I shall tell you a proverb, most true and most brief: Then the swans will sing, when the jackdaws have fallen silent.”

CXV. TO THEODORE

The feast and the letter, and, what is more excellent, you outstrip the time, favoring us by your zeal with the ability to celebrate the feast in advance. These things, then, are from your piety. We, however, give back to you in return that which we hold to be the greatest of all things, which is our prayers. But that you may also have some memorial from us, the same also of the holy Basil, we have sent you a little book of Origen’s Philocalia, containing a collection of those things which are useful to those who are devoted to letters. I would wish that you receive this gift and provide us with proof of the profit you have gained from it, being aided both by study and by the Spirit.

CXVI. TO EULALIUS

To me, too, the place of silence and the wrestling school of philosophy…

which I viewed while silent, I desire to see while speaking, so that I may satisfy the longing of my brothers, and repay you, the interpreters of my poor words (88), for the parsimony of my speech. For I myself, who am speaking, shall be present, no longer dragged into an allegorical sense, nor guessed at by conjecture, but purely and plainly understood.

CXVII. TO THE SAME

Something new has happened to me: for I, who was silent when you were present, seek you when you are absent, that I may both impart a discourse and receive one in return. For it is right, as with all other things, so also to consecrate the first-fruits of discourse first to the Word, and then to those who are endowed with the fear of the Lord.

CXVIII. TO THE SAME

To everything there is a time, says the Ecclesiastes; ^B for this reason, *I placed a guard upon my mouth*, when the time so demanded, *and Lo, I will not hold back my lips*, since it is the time for this. For I was silent, says the Scripture, but shall I also be silent forever? I was silent for myself; I am speaking to others. But they, if they speak what is fitting, let there be all thanks to God; but if not, we shall even stop our ears.

CXIX. TO PALLADIUS

I mortified my tongue with Christ when I was fasting, and I raised it up again when he rose. This ^C is the mystery of my silence: that as I sacrificed an unspoken mind, so also I might sacrifice a purified discourse.

CXX. TO HELLADIUS

Having been taught to see the things hoped for (96) from afar (for I shall use your own preface), we now take delight also in those things already present. ^D For I know the holy day of Pascha, at which we have arrived, to be a mystical symbol of future goods, being a feast of passing over. Good it is that you yourself have reminded us of these things, by which…

have sent, both by those things which you sent and by those which you write. I have already passed many Easters, and have gathered this fruit of a longer life. But now I am seized by the desire for a purer Easter; namely, to depart from this heavy and dark Egypt of this life, and to be freed from the clay and the work of making bricks, ^A to which we are bound, and to long to migrate to the land of promise. Pray for this for me, if you have any care to deserve most nobly of us. But may it often happen to you, with affairs yielding prosperously and happily, to celebrate the festival along with the Church. But if it should be granted to me to close my old age also by your kindness, with a bishop set over this Church whom the Holy Spirit shall have designated, you will have performed a good work, and one worthy, if I may so speak, of paternal blessings.

CXXI. TO THEODORE.

The epistle which follows to Theodore is of almost similar argument; not indeed to the Mopsuestian, as the eloquent Hermaniensis wrote, but to the Tyanian, who had recently been ordained bishop of this Church. We think this to be the reason why Gregory writes to him as to a youth. He signifies that he has rejoiced in the symbols of charity, that is, in the gifts which Theodore ^B had sent at Easter, for which the Theologian repays him by wishing many good spiritual things for Theodore, and especially that he may become a parent of such children—which we prefer to understand of spiritual children, rather than with Tillemont of children born of wedlock. We indeed, says Gregory, repay all things spiritually.

We rejoice in the symbols of charity, and most of all upon such an occasion, and concerning one so recently united and perfected; and, that I may receive you with the words of Scripture, concerning one established in his youth. For so does it call him who is strong in the power of intelligence greater than his age suggests. Wherefore the ancient fathers used to pray for the dew of heaven ^C and ^D the fatness of the earth along with other things for their children (unless it be pleasing to anyone to understand these things more sublimely), but we on our part will repay you everything spiritually. May the Lord fulfill all your petitions; and may you become a father of such children (if it is right to pray for you concisely and familiarly), such as you show yourself to your own elders, that, besides other things, we too may be adorned with glory on account of you.

CXXII. TO THE SAME.

Gregory invites Theodore to the anniversary honor of the martyrs, which was celebrated annually at Arianzus in the month of Dathusa, and at the same time to ecclesiastical business.

You owe care and duty to us, as to those laboring under adverse health, since one of the number of the commandments is the visitation of the sick; and likewise you owe to the holy martyrs the annual honor which we celebrate at Arianzus among *your own people*.

on the twenty-second day of our month Dathusa, as it is called among us which we celebrate on your Arianzis. And at the same time there are not a few ecclesiastical matters that require common deliberation. For all these reasons, therefore, I ask that you come to us without delay; for even if the labor is great, the reward is equal.

^A

CXXIII. TO THE SAME

Theodore requested to visit Gregory, who was present, either in person or by letters afterward. To whom the Theologian signifies that the inclemency of the weather and illness compel him to remain at home, and promises that he will come when time permits.

I have revered your presence, and I welcome your companionship, even though I had otherwise admonished myself to remain at home and philosophize in quiet; for I found this to be more profitable for me than all else. But since the air is still turbulent, and my infirmity has not left me, I beseech you, exercise a little patience, and pray for my health: we, as soon as it shall be timely, will attend to your prayers.

^B

CXXIV. TO THE SAME

Not long after, as the pleasantness of spring returned, Gregory writes back to Theodore, who was inviting him again, that he will come gladly, nay, will hasten, so that he may meet with him alone, but that he bids farewell to synods and councils from afar. If anyone wishes to relegate this letter to subsequent years, as we here collocating it by way of conjecture, we shall not much resist.

Do you call? We indeed hasten; but we hasten to meet alone with you alone. For we bid farewell to synods and assemblies from afar, since the time when I have discovered a great many of their, to speak sparingly, ^C troublesome aspects. What then remains? Assist my righteous desire through your prayers, so that we may obtain what we strive for.

CXXV. TO OLYMPIUS

When Gregory had been compelled this year to seek the baths of Xanxaris on account of illness, he had scarcely committed himself to the journey when the Apollinarists, taking advantage of his absence, broke forth into such audacity that they imposed the name of bishop upon a certain scoundrel from their impious and adulterous flock. When Gregory learned of this, he writes to Olympius, the prefect of Cappadocia, that he should punish this wicked deed attempted by the Apollinarists against the constitutions and edicts of the emperors. He nevertheless beseeches that the depraved men be punished more mildly than such audacity deserves.

Even gray hair is instructed to some degree, and old age, as I see, is not entirely such that it merits an opinion and reputation for prudence. I, however, since I knew the thinking and impiety of the Apollinarists above all others, ^D and seeing their unbearable audacity, nevertheless thought that by my leniency I would render them mild and placid, which indeed I held out in my hopes. I failed to—

notice, as it appears, that I had made them ^A worse and had brought detriment to the Church by this untimely philosophy. For leniency does not shame the wicked. And now, if it were possible for me to teach these things myself, you may be sure that I would not have hesitated—even if it meant exerting myself beyond my strength—to fall at your Excellency’s feet. But since my infirmity has led me further away, and it has become necessary, by the advice of physicians, to use the hot springs of Xanxaris, I am sending this letter as my substitute. The wicked, and those who will perish miserably, have rushed to such a pitch of audacity that, in addition to all else, they have summoned even those bishops whom the whole Eastern and Western Council had deposed, or else they have misused those just passing through (for I cannot say this for certain). Violating all imperial constitutions and all your own decrees, they have dared to give ^B the name of bishop to someone of the impious and corrupt men of their own flock, relying upon nothing, I think, so much as my own extreme weakness: for this is what must be said. If these things are slight and endurable, let your firmness endure them; we too shall endure them, as we have often endured before. But if they are serious, and not even endurable to the most pious Emperors themselves, deign to avenge ^C what has been committed, though more gently than such great audacity deserves.

CXXVI. TO THE SAME

As though in a dream I was in a cheerful state of mind. For when I had been brought as far as the monastery, so that I might obtain some comfort from the bath, and then had conceived the hope of meeting you, and already held this good as though in my hands, and had spent some days there, I was suddenly snatched away ^D by the infirmity, which in part was already troubling me and in part was threatening. And if one must find some comparison for this calamity, I suffered the same as those polyps which, when they are forcibly torn from the rocks, are in danger and, clinging to the sockets—

often, something of what they put upon the rocks, or something they acquire from them. ^A Thus it is with me. What I would have asked of your excellence in person, I have not hesitated to ask even while absent. I found our son Nicobulus much burdened by the concern for the public post, and by his constant attendance at the monastery; he is a man both infirm, unaccustomed to such things, and one who does not bear solitude well. For any other matter you may have at heart, I would wish you to use his services; for he will work for you with a ready and active spirit in all things. But from this care, if it is possible, release him—if for no other reason, at least as an honor to one who cares for me in my sickness. For since we have asked and obtained many things for many people from you, we now have need of your gentleness for our own sake as well.

CXXVII. TO HELLADIUS

CXXVIII. TO PROCOPIUS

[the English so far ends...] consequences. This man himself, who is well known to you—great men that you are—from his distinguished and illustrious military service, and perhaps even known to you through his own merits, brings us the greatest weight in our entreaty, for the calamity of his body provides visible proof. Since this is in itself burdensome and distressing, it is all the more so, as is reasonable, because it is unmerited. I have no doubt that when our own prayer is added to these things, it will be all the more effective in accomplishing that for which we are striving. ^A

CXXIX. TO THE SAME.

If we were not suffering from poor health, and if we did not also have grim prospects regarding our very life, we would first and foremost have counted the greatest gain to be enjoying meeting with you and speaking with you, a thing that the requirements of our duty toward you absolutely demanded. Secondly, we would have carried out this embassy ourselves. But since we are lying here, completely shackled by illness, and not of our own volition and will have we accepted this loss, we do what remains: we approach you by letter, we embrace and kiss you, ^B and we take the confidence to ask on behalf of our fellow deacon Eugenius, whom we claim from your greatness of mind and excellence.

If, then, the familiarity that he had with the accursed and nefarious man, Regianus, is no crime (for it is not evident that he has committed any other offense), then do this for the sake of justice itself, of which you are the arbiter and champion; but if you judge this to be a crime, then for the sake of God, to whom he has served, and for the sake of our own gray hairs—which you know are held in veneration by many who fear the Lord—I beseech you: grant this favor both to us and to the entire clergy. By freeing the man from calumny, bring about for yourself blessed divine hopes. ^C If you do this, in return for what you bestow, you will receive—if this is not too great a thing to say—no less, that is to say, our prayers. ^D

EPISTLE CXXIX. TO THE SAME

^A Superiors' letters, although of uncertain date, must necessarily precede this one which follows, namely, that Gregory was called to Constantinople by Theodorus for the sake of honor. But when he did not wish to attend, or could not because of an intervening illness, he gave Epistle 130 (alias 55) to Procopius the notary, or to Theodosius the secretary, as Tillemont wishes, or to the prefect of the city of Constantinople, as Gothofredus holds, in which he excuses himself and asks Procopius to take pains that the most pious emperor does not condemn him for laziness and sloth, but rather pardons his infirmity. He says, moreover, that he abhors all councils of bishops on account of the quarrels and contentions with which they struggle among themselves.

Ego, if I must write the truth, am of such a mind that I flee every gathering of bishops, because I have never seen a good end to any council, nor one that has been a resolution of evils rather than an increase and addition to them. For there are always contentions and a thirst for power (and do not, I pray, consider me burdensome and troublesome for writing this), and they cannot be explained in any words; and one would sooner be accused of wrong in acting as judge over others, than he would compress their wickedness. For this reason I have gathered myself into myself, and have judged that quiet is the only security of the soul. But now my illness also comes to support this judgment of mine, since I am daily almost breathing my last, and am unable to make use of myself for anything. For this reason, may your magnanimity pardon us, and may you persuade the most pious emperor through yourself not to condemn us for sloth, but to pardon our weakness, on account of which he knows he has granted us, when we requested it instead of other benefits, the permission to withdraw. ^B

CXXXI. TO OLYMPIUS

Gregory accomplished nothing with his previous letters. Indeed, there were repeated commands through Icarius and Olympius, the prefect of Cappadocia. He replied to both. The letters to Icarius are lost, whom he calls "most illustrious" in the letter to Olympius which survives. This is the very one that follows.

This is more grievous to me than the illness itself, that when I am sick, I am not believed to be sick, but am ordered to enter upon such a long journey and to thrust myself into the midst of the tumults from which it was so pleasing to me to have withdrawn, so that for this reason I almost feel gratitude toward this affliction of my body. ^C For a quiet life, removed from business, is more precious than the splendor of an active life. I also sent this formerly ^D to the most admirable Ica-

wrote not long ago, since I have already received the same order; and now I ask of your magnanimity that you do not take it amiss to write on our behalf as well, inasmuch as we have you as a rich witness to our illness. It is proof of the loss which we have now sustained, that due to bodily infirmity it has not been possible for us to run to you or to enjoy your presence—a guardian so agreeable, and endowed with such excellent virtue, that the very preludes of your magistracy are more precious than the glory that others attain during the whole of their time in office.

CXXXII. TO SATURNINUS

From this letter, which is of the same subject matter as the preceding ones and of the same year, it is evident how well-disposed Gregory was toward the Church, and with what zeal he pursued peace and concord. As to that matter itself, although he was suffering from a serious illness, he says that all things among us go well by the grace of God. He is not anxious or worried about anything, except for the churches so shamefully troubled; he prays that the council may not conclude with a sad outcome—that council, I mean, which followed closely upon that ecumenical synod in which he had resigned the see of Constantinople, but not, as it seemed to Baronius, another council which Theodosius also convened at Constantinople in the year 383, during the consulship of Saturninus.

^A It is not in doubt for me (otherwise it would be rash to write) that you require of me the duty of friendship. For you bestow power upon those outside, but you grant us freedom of speech, as a good fellow-slave to those who have been deemed worthy to draw near to God. For this reason we address you also, and, gratifying your desire, we expose our situation to you. All things among us go well by the grace of God, with this one exception, that we are anxious and concerned about the churches, so shamefully perturbed. By whatever means you can, vigorously establish ^B common concord both in word and deed, since a synod of bishops is meeting again, and there is fear again that we might be put to shame now, if this synod should have an unfortunate end, just as the former one had. For as to what has befallen us, we shall leave all things to God, who knows all, and is to be acknowledged and judged, even if we surrendered with a happy mind to envy and to those who wished it; leaving behind not a pleasant thing, as it seems to the many, but one exceedingly dangerous, and as if from a grave and ^C harsh tempest, we arrive at a certain calm and safe harbor.

CXXXIII. TO VICTOR

On the same occasion, and in the same tempest, letters were given to Victor, who from the time of Julian held the dignity of Master of the Soldiers with praise. He exhorts him to reach out a hand to the common tranquility, since a synod is being gathered again and a struggle is again arising, and to bring aid to the afflicted affairs of the Church.

Not because we are writing now are we bold; but because...

sooner, sluggish. Or rather, not even that, for we lack the means by which to send letters. And yet, how you must think we desire this, staying in the country far from the monastery, and there taking care of our body! But now, when opportunity offers, we both greet you and ask of you that you should show us the same honor when we are absent as you did when we were present, and do not begrudge us, who are suffering greatly from our separation, the consolation of a letter. Since, however, a synod is again being gathered, and a struggle is again arising—and this in the midst of enemies who carefully observe all our affairs—extend a hand to the common situation, as one who is not the least or most lowly part of the Church, and do not allow everything to be consumed by the conflagration that now encompasses the Church. But whatever tools you can find to extinguish the flame, apply them, and urge others to do the same; so it will come to pass that, with public affairs faring better, your own affairs also will be in a better state.

CXXXIV. TO THE SAME

^ATruly you are a Victor, and in all things a champion, O admirable man. For just as when it was permitted, you overcame enemies with weapons, so now you overcome all men with kindness. For this reason we took the courage to offer this greeting, and with the greeting, our very honorable son Hyperechius, whom I know you will honor both for his character, if you make trial of the man, and for our sake, to whom you have resolved to grant all things. And bid him be confident, as a memorial of our friendship, which, I am persuaded, you value highly.

CXXXV. TO SOPHRONIO THE PREFECT

We live philosophically in tranquility; those who hated us did us this injury, and would that they might afflict us with another injury of this sort, so that we might recognize them as benefactors all the more. Many ^D

that we might recognize ourselves to be constrained by more benefits. For there are many things in which those who are wronged receive a benefit, and, conversely, to those who receive a benefit, an injury is inflicted. And our affairs are in such a state. But if we do not gain belief for this matter from others, we certainly wish you—to whom we willingly render an account of our life—to know it, or rather, even to be confident that you know it, and to provide proof to those who are ignorant. But I beseech you, let it be your every endeavor, if not before, then at least now, that the segments of the world, so badly divided, may conspire and come together; and especially if you find them divided and torn apart from one another not because of the doctrine of the faith, but because of private rivalries, which is what I have observed. This will also bring you a reward, if you are able to do it; and our withdrawal will cause us less sorrow if it appears that we did not embrace it in vain, but rather cast ourselves into the sea of our own accord, like that Jonah of old, so that the storm might be abated and those on board might be safely saved. But if they are tossed by the tempest nonetheless, our part at least has been fulfilled. ^A

CXXXVI. TO MODARIUS, GENERAL OF THE ARMY

Gregorius sent a letter to another general of the army, as a council was already being held, in which he beseeches him to foster and guard peace and concord among the bishops who had gathered. This general of the army, Modarius, was a Goth by birth, but a Christian. ^B

You are a kinsman and a friend to us, and whatever else of this kind anyone might say. For piety has joined us, and the renown of virtue, which we observed in you; clearly showing by this that the difference between Greek and barbarian is one of bodies, not of souls, and a distance of places, but not of characters or inclinations. ^C Would that many of those who are joined with us by lineage might imitate your nobility! For I do not doubt that in that case all our affairs, both public and private, would be in good order. But I ask and beseech you, just as you extinguish the external war by your own hand and counsel and prudence, standing bravely on our behalf, so too settle our war; as much as lies within your power, contending that the end for the now-gathered bishops may be peaceful. For to gather often, yet find no end to evils—but rather always to add troubles to troubles—is a greater matter of shame, as you yourself know. For as you also know, to add tumult upon tumult is a mark of greater disgrace. ^D

CXXXVII. TO THE SAME

It seemed good to append this letter, inscribed to the same Modarius, to the previous one. If anyone thinks it should have been placed first, we shall agree the more readily, as it is merely an official greeting, which he perhaps wrote to Modarius after he left Constantinople. Be that as it may, he commends to his authority and power a certain soldier named Theodore, who served under Modarius.

^A I have long desired, in my longing, to greet your Excellency, and I thank God, who has given me the opportunity. As I was seeking how I might reward him who is delivering this letter to you, I found it best to commend him to your authority. I would like you to look upon him gladly, partly for our own sake, as he is both mine and yours—ours, I say, as a companion, and yours as a soldier (I speak of this Theodore who is now coming to you by our means)—so that he too may perceive the honor with which we have always been treated by you, and by which we are still treated today.

CXXXVIII. TO BOSPORIUS, BISHOP OF COLONIA

^B Circa these times, when the Church of Nazianzus was being troubled more and more every day by the Apollinarists, with the bishops and the whole of the people, small and great, crying out and beseeching Gregory to take up the helm of the Church and save it from the imminent shipwreck; eventually, being overcome, he gave his right hand and promised that, God helping, he would without delay undertake the care of the Church. This he makes known to Bosporius, Bishop of Colonia in the Second Cappadocia.

I thought that an apology was owed to me by you for the previous matters as well (such a simple and foolish person am I). But since you do not cease to rebuke us, but always add something to your earlier contentions and heap insults upon insults, I know not for what reason—whether because you hate us, or because you seek to curry favor with others by our dishonor—we leave these things for God to know and to judge, from whom nothing that exists is hidden, as the divine Scripture says (Job XLII, 2), even if we should paint over the face of truth, to make a more specious pretext before the multitude. But to your piety, we declare this: we give our hands and yield, and we are about to undertake the care of the Church, God granting it, to the best of our ability and without delay (since you contend for this, ^C and especially now that the time is pressing due to the imminent incursion of adversaries, as you yourself write); but we shall offer this humble body to God, so long as it lasts and we have strength, so that neither

we shall be ready to provide, so long as life and strength permit, that we may neither be burdened and crushed, both by being condemned by you and by being harried by the clamors of the entire clergy, who oppress us with the common groans of all, and by seeing the Church neglected and offending very many besides, as though we despised the Church's business; nor may you struggle any longer in your contempt for us. And we shall do this, relying upon your prayers, if you are fearful of undertaking the care of the Church, as you yourself write, and as the facts themselves bear witness. For it is better to die worn out by those cares than by these, since it is absolutely necessary for us to suffer, God ordaining our affairs in this way.

CXXXIX. TO THEODORE

Who this Theodore is, to whom Gregory wrote this letter, I would not dare to assert. If I were to say Theodore of Tyana, the words of the letter itself, which prove the contrary, would be raised as an objection. Gregory addresses him to whom he writes in these words: "Since you have recently been put in charge of affairs, and are ignorant of very many things, as is likely, which pertain to our history," etc. Was Theodore ignorant of the things that pertained to Gregory's history? Theodore, I say, of Tyana, who was born in Arianzus, who was a friend of Gregory, who was his companion when he went to Constantinople, who was a partner and participant in his persecution and stoning? These words which are read in this letter, along with others in the previous letter to Sophronius—"Since you were also grievous, censuring my withdrawal... at last I was overcome," etc.—demonstrate that the letters are of the same subject matter and period, in whatever way he writes them.

^B May He who raised up David His servant from the shepherd's art to the kingdom, and your reverence from the flock to the pastoral office—He who dispenses according to His own will our affairs and those of all who hope in Him—may He even now bring it to mind for your perfection to recognize the dishonor with which we have been dishonored by the lords the bishops as regards votes and suffrages, who indeed consent to the ordination, but thrust us aside. For I shall by no means accuse your reverence, since you have been recently put in charge of affairs and are ignorant of many things, as is likely, which pertain to our history. And this is indeed enough and more than enough; for I do not wish to be troublesome to you for longer, lest I seem importunate, as our friendship has only just begun. But these things which have seemed right to us, while taking counsel with God, we make known. For I indeed withdrew from the Church of Nazianzus, not as though despising God, nor as though looking down upon my little flock (far be it that a soul dedicated to philosophy should suffer such a thing), but first, because I was held by no such proclamation; and second, because of being crushed by infirmity, and ^{C D}

to imagine that I was unequal to such cares. Since you too were heavy upon me, reproaching my withdrawal, and I myself could not bear the outcries raised against me by all, and the time was grievous, threatening us with the incursion of enemies for the injury of the common state ^A of the whole Church: at last I was overcome by a defeat, painful to the body, indeed, but perhaps not harmful to the soul. I surrender this lowly body to the Church, as far as is possible, judging it more acceptable to suffer anything in the flesh rather than to be struck spiritually ^B and to strike the many who have formed a worse opinion of us from the things they themselves suffer. Knowing these things, then, join in prayer and approve our judgment; nor will it be worse, perhaps, to say, and to form it toward piety.

CXL. TO OLYMPIO

Besides the various letters to Olympio, which we have assigned to their proper places as best we could, there remain not a few which, since they were written in this year, the mention or at least some indication of his prefecture does not allow us to doubt. These, therefore, we place here; though some sent to others are mixed in, which, since they are of the same subject matter, are also to be judged of the same time. Thus, placed next to each other, they will shed light upon one another. We consider that the letters sent to Olympio by the fugitive Aurelius should be placed first. In these, he commends Aurelius to Olympio, whom he heaps with great praises, and not to him alone, but also to his companion and helper, whom Tillemont thinks to be Asterius, and not wrongly; for Gregory associates him in his letters on the same matter and in power with Olympio.

I am writing again, when I ought to be present; but from you this confidence is born in me, O arbiter of spiritual things (to say first what is first), and corrector of public affairs, and both by divine grace; who have also received this reward of piety, that things turn out according to your mind, and you alone can achieve those things which are denied to all others. For you administer the government under the guidance and auspices of prudence and courage; of which the one thinks out what must be done, the other easily executes what has been thought out. And to this, which is the ^C greatest, is added the purity and integrity of your hand, by which all things are governed. Where is there any gold unjustly collected by you? It has never even existed, as being proscribed before all else, just as if it were a hidden and obscure tyrant. Where is there enmity? It has been condemned. Where is there favor? Here you waver somewhat and fail (for I shall accuse you a little); but imitating the kindness of God, which even now Aurelius, your soldier, seeks and implores through us—whom I call a mindless fugitive, but a prudent one, ^D because he has placed himself under our hands, and through our hands under yours, as if holding out some royal image, our gray hairs, and the priesthood, which…

to be your suitor; since he has fled to our hands, and through our hands to yours, extending my grey hairs and my priesthood—which you have often confessed you hold in veneration—like some imperial image. Behold, this hand, though it be bloodless, offers these sacrifices to you; a hand which has already committed to writing many of your praises, and, I know, will commit even more, if God should prolong your rule, and that of your colleague and helper in justice, Themis. ^A

CXLI. TO THE SAME

The people of Nazianzus had committed some offense, and matters had reached the point of sedition on account of perhaps some too heavy tax that had been imposed. Olympius was threatening to raze the city to the ground. Gregory attempts, by these letters, to avert the danger hanging over his fellow-citizens and to bend Olympius to mercy. He assumes various—nay, all—modes of charity, so as to reconcile the angry governor to the seditious, and to avert the ruin of the ancient city.

Again it is a time for kindness, and again I am bold and rash, in committing a petition for so great a matter to letters. For my illness makes me bold, not permitting me even to travel; for it does not afford me a seemly access to you. What, then, is this petition? Receive it from me calmly and humanely. A bitter thing, indeed, is the death of a man (for why not?), who is alive today and will die tomorrow, and will not return to us. But far more bitter is the destruction of a city, which emperors founded, and times established, and a long series of years preserved. I speak of Diocæsarea, once a city, but now struck from the roll of cities, unless you should grant some gentle relief. Imagine her rolling at your feet through us. And let her have a voice, and put on mourning attire, and shear her hair, as in a tragedy, and let her address these words to you: ^B

"Extend a hand to me as I lie upon the ground; help me in my distress. Do not join your own impulse to the bitterness of the times, nor destroy the remnants of the Persians. It would be more honorable for you to build up cities than to wipe out those that are laboring. Be a founder of a city, or at least..." ^C

^A do not cause it to cease being a city after your rule; nor give to time a miserable tale to tell—that you received one counted among cities, and left behind as a desolate place that which was once a city, recognizable only by its mountains, its precipices, and its woods. Let the city which we have brought in to speak, say and do this before your humanity.

But receive our admonition, as that of friends; be willing to exercise self-restraint toward those who have sinned against the decree of your authority. For we do not dare to say anything in defense of this, even though they say the rash act did not proceed from a common plan, but from the thoughtless impulse of certain youths. Yet, remit the greater part of your anger, and consider the matter more loftily. They grieved that their mother was being oppressed and, as it were, put to death; they could not bear to hold the name of citizens while being deprived of their city; they were driven to madness, they transgressed the law, they despaired of their own safety; the shock of the calamity rendered them senseless. Must the city, then, be destroyed for this reason? Far be it from you, O admirable man; ^B do not decree this. Rather, show honor to all the citizens, to the councillors, and to the dignitaries who are beseeching you; for you know that the calamity touches all alike, even if, deterred by the greatness of your authority, they remain quiet and groan silently. And let our grey hair also move you, for whom it would be grave and bitter if we, who once possessed a great city, should now possess no city at all, and if it should become a lair for wild beasts after your rule—and also the temple which we raised to God, and all our zeal in adorning it. For ^C if statues are pulled down, this is not a grave and bitter thing, even if it is bitter in another sense; nor should you think that our speech is about these things, we who are intent on higher matters. But it is grave if an ancient city, which has brought forth something brilliant, should fall along with them, while we are living and watching, we who are held in honor before you and are thought to possess some measure of strength and authority. But let this be enough said by us on these matters.

For even if we were to say more, we would not find anything more powerful or stronger than your own reasonings, by which such a nation is governed, and may it be led to even greater and further things, and to higher

the more, and even greater ones in more exalted offices. But it is necessary that your magnanimity should know regarding those who have now fallen into your hands, that they are altogether miserable and cast away, and that they have shared in no disorder with those who committed that crime, as many of those who were present at the time assure us. Regarding these matters, determine whatever you judge to be expedient, both for the glory of this life and for the hope of the life to come. As for us, we shall bear whatever comes into your mind to decide—not, indeed, without sorrow, but we will bear it. For what else could we do? And if the worse judgment prevails, we shall bear it bitterly, and we shall follow with tears that which was once a [city]. [CXLII. THE SAME.] ^B The letter which follows the previous one after a short interval ought to occupy the position of Letter CXLII, in which Gregory earnestly requests Olympius to spare the Nazianzenites.

The desire for your company is ardent, and the necessity of those who petition you is great; but the sickness cannot be overcome. For this reason, I have not hesitated to entrust this intercession to a letter. Let our gray hairs move you, which have moved you already in the past, as was fitting, and indeed very often. And let this sickness also move you, to which—if one may say something arrogantly—the labors I have undertaken for God’s sake have contributed in some small part. And for this reason, spare those citizens whose eyes are fixed upon us, as those who have authority and confidence with you. Spare likewise the others who are subject to our care. For indeed no harm will be brought to affairs by gentleness and mercy, since you accomplish more by fear than others do by punishments and torture. As for you, may it be your lot, in these matters, to encounter such a judge toward yourself as you have shown yourself to be toward the petitioners, and toward us who intercede for them. [CXLIII. THE SAME.] ^C Here Letter CXLIII conveniently presents itself, in which Gregory testifies that he has received very many benefits from Olympius, and yet that he has no fear that he will exhaust his kindness. Nevertheless, he employs another patron for the plea for Leontius, namely, her whom he had as a companion and partner in both empire and power, that is to say, the wife of Olympius.

What does to have suffered many things, and to have received benefits, bring to men? ^D It teaches humanity and mercy, and causes them to incline toward those who are in need. For no such instruction

need of the help of others. For there is no proof so great for the engendering of compassion as to have first received kindness oneself. This has happened to me; from the things I have suffered, I have learned compassion. And do you see ^B my magnanimity? While I am in need of your gentleness in my own affairs, I intercede for others, and I do not fear that I shall exhaust your benevolence on the business of others. I write these things on behalf of Leontius the presbyter, or, if I may so speak, the former presbyter: who, if he has paid penalties worthy of his deeds, let us halt here, lest that which is added to the magnitude of the punishment should degenerate into injustice. ^C But if some further penalty must be added, and the gravity of the reproach has not yet equaled the atrocity of his crimes, grant this to us, and to God, and to the sanctuary, and to the common college of priests in which he was once numbered, even if he has now rendered himself unworthy of that rank of honor, both by what he has done and by what he has suffered. If, then, we persuade you, this is best; but if not, we bring to you a more venerable intercessor, whom you have as a partner and companion in both your authority and your glory.

CXLIV. TO THE SAME

At the time when Gregory was ruling the Nazianzen Church, two epistles ought to be written, one to Olympius, the other to Verianus. Both are concerning the daughter of Verianus, whom her father wished to depart from her husband. Both are most worthy of the Theologian and of episcopal prudence and charity. The former, which was written to Olympius, already published by Billius, Morellus edited again as if it were new, page 904. This is among the 212 epistles.

Haste is not to be commended in everything. For this reason, ^D I have delayed the answer until now concerning the daughter of the most venerable Verianus, providing time for correction, and at the same time conjecturing the mind of your Goodness, which does not approve of this separation, from the fact that you entrusted the inquiry to us, whom you knew not to be quick and precipitate in such matters. For this reason, then, I have restrained myself until now, and, as I think, not without reflection. But since we have come to a narrow point in time, and it is necessary to make known what has been discovered by our examination, we shall indeed make it known. The girl seems to me to be in a twofold state of mind, being distracted partly by reverence for her parents and partly by familiarity with her husband. And her words, indeed, are with the former, but her mind—I know not if it is not also with the latter, as her tears indicate.

you will indeed perform what comes to your mind as equitable, and what will be pleasing to God, who guides you in all things. But I for my part would most gladly advise my son Verianus to overlook many of the things that lie in between, so that he might in no way confirm a divorce, which is thoroughly condemned by our laws, even if the Romans decree otherwise. For it is necessary that justice be preserved, which we pray that you may always advocate and perform.

CXLV. TO VERIANUS

Verianus, whom Gregory calls his son, perhaps because he was from Nazianzus, wished for his daughter to depart from her husband. The provincial prefect Olympius entrusted to Gregory the task of questioning the daughter, not as a censor, but as a bishop. When he had questioned the daughter, he recognized from her responses, or rather her tears, that a separation from her husband pleased her in no way at all. Gregory, who wrote this letter to Verianus, also did not approve of it in the least. ^A Nothing grievous do the executioners, for they serve the laws; nor is the sword wrongful with which we punish the wicked. Yet the executioner is not praised, nor is a bloodstained sword handled with a willing mind. In the same way, we do not endure to bring upon ourselves hatred, while through our hand and tongue a divorce is confirmed. For it is better to be a mediator of union and friendship, than of discord and the dissolution of ^B life. This seems to me to have been perceived by the most admirable governor, when he entrusted to us the task of questioning your daughter, as those who could not come to this dissolution with a hard and rigid mind. Indeed, he did not set me forward as a censor, but as a bishop, and he made me an arbiter of your misfortune. Wherefore, I ask you to grant something to my timidity, and indeed, if those things which are of virtue prevail, use us as ministers of your will, and we rejoice in being ^C commanded such things; but if they are worse and more ignoble, and things to which we have not yet even to this day set our hand, seek another who is more suitable than I am for these matters. For I have no time to gratify your friendship (even though otherwise I hold you in the highest esteem) at the cost of offending God, to whom I must render an account of every movement and thought. As for your daughter, we shall believe her only then (for I shall say what is the case), when, having cast off that shame which is struck into her by you, she is able to speak the truth freely. For as it is now, ^D her plight is pitiable. She assigns words to you, but tears to her husband.

CXLVI. OLYMPIO.

CXLVI. TO OLYMPIUS

To the other letters of Gregory to Olympius must be added this epistle, which, however, could have been written a little later. For of all the petitions, if I may so call the formal requests that Gregory offered to Olympius, this may be considered the last, in which he fears that he has exhausted the prefect’s kindness and that, at length, he has caused him to grow weary from the abundance of them.

This, of course, was what I was saying, as if by some prophecy, ^A when I used your kindness and favor in all things, and gorged myself with your mildness and readiness to help with a certain insatiable greed; for I feared that I might exhaust your kindness in the affairs of others. For behold, my own struggle (if indeed it is mine, that is, the struggle of my own people), and I do not speak with the same boldness as before. First, because it is my own affair. For to ask for oneself, even if it is more useful and advantageous, is nonetheless more humble and abject. Next, because I view satiety with suspicion, as it extinguishes sweetness and is opposed to all things that are beautiful. And these things are indeed thus, and I conjecture them quite rightly. Nevertheless, trusting in God, before whom I stand, and in your own generosity in bestowing favors, I have not hesitated to offer this petition to you.

Let Nicobulus be the most wicked of all mortals, ^B whose only crime is that, on our account, he is an object of envy and more freethinking than is fitting. Let him who now opposes us also be the most righteous of men. For I am ashamed to accuse before your integrity him whom I have lately defended. But I do not know whether you will consider it just that the sins of others should be punished by the exaction of penalties from other men—from others, I say, and for sins that were not even voluntary; that a man is called to stand trial who has so strongly stirred up his own servants, and has taken the matter so indignantly, that he yielded to the accuser even more promptly than he desired? Was it, therefore, necessary that Nicobulus, or his sons, should be brought into servitude, as pleases those who are hostile to them? For the cause and the timing of the injury fill me with shame, if, while you are governor and we have influence with you, this should come to pass. Is the public treasury being assisted now? ^C Are the tribunals being augmented now, while private matters are suffering? By no means, O admirable man, let no such thing enter your pure mind. But rather, with the bird-like swiftness of your intellect, discern the malice from which these things arise, and, out of respect for us who praise you, show yourself a kind judge to those who are being agitated, ^D as someone who is not only a judge for men.

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whence these things proceed, observing, and for the sake of our own honor as well, since we are the heralds of your praises, show yourself a kind and humane judge toward those who are agitated: as if you were today passing judgment not merely upon men, but upon virtue and vice. Of this matter, indeed, more than of individual men, account and care should be taken by those who relate themselves to you through virtue, and who discharge the office of prefect appropriately and becomingly. For these things, moreover, you shall have from us not only prayers—which I know you do not hold in contempt as do most men—but also that we shall make your rule famous and celebrated among all those to whom we are known.

CXLVII. ASTERIO

What is more just than God? And yet, ^B though He is the creator and Lord of all, He claims for Himself, in a peculiar way, an Israelitic people, and names them His own; nor does He fear lest on this account He be deemed unjust. What wonder is it, therefore, if we too, although we take care of all who are under our hand and jurisdiction, nevertheless embrace more closely the son Nicobulus, whom we acknowledge as the caretaker of our old age and sickness, and have set him beneath us as a kind of support and staff for our infirmity? We commend him to you—and through you to the governor—deeming it very grave and bitter if, while we liberate others from even the most serious accusations through our efforts—and especially those who now present themselves as fierce accusers—we are nevertheless unable to liberate this man from even ^C calumny and unjust vexation; and if the honor which we obtain among outsiders, we should fail to obtain this for our own; and the same thing should befall us as befalls the eyes, which, while seeing other things, do not see themselves, or as happens to fountains lying at the bottom, which, while in no way watering the places nearby, irrigate those far away. Let the things committed by the boys be truly atrocious, or more than atrocious—though perhaps they would be found to be nothing at all, or at least small, if we were not pressed by the narrow limits of the time prescribed for the inquiry. But what is this to the masters, who in no wise were partakers of the things that occurred? Or what is this logic, that punishment should be sought from others for the sins of others, and that one should be burdened with public affairs now, when one's own private matters ^D cause distress?

LETTER CXLVIII. TO THE SAME

^A What is this, perhaps you will say? Again Gregory to us? Again letters? Again requests? Oh, the insatiable desire that we ourselves have stirred up! Do not, I pray you, admirable man, let this happen to you! For whose possess are the harbors, if not of those who are tossed by the storm? Whose are the medicines, if not of those who suffer from disease? Of which may we not be deprived, and all the more so, in that we are believed to have influence with you. For we no longer ask, but demand, since grace always calls forth grace. Nicobulus ^B is vexed by extreme insolence, which is just as if I had said that we are vexed; for he is our refreshment and comfort. And how can he, even a man who is most wise, keep silent and not be burdensome and importunate? Stretch out a hand to those who are oppressed, so that to you also the hand of God may be stretched out, of which, being human, you have need. And use all friendship, and prudence, and power, with God as your guide, in our affairs. For neither does red-hot iron require many blows from a stone for the fire within it to be made manifest; but at the moment it is struck, the fire flashes and sparkles: nor will you have any need for a longer plea, and this on our behalf, and with such a man acting as an advocate, and such a faithful partner in office. I will say one brief thing: other favors others received through us; but for this one, we have need for our own sake; may this move your eloquence and learning all the more.

LETTER CXLIX. TO GEORGIUS

Georgius, to whom this letter is written, was a deacon most dear to the Theologian. By these letters he instructs him to bring to him another deacon by the name of Euthalius, who—having beaten Philadelphius with stripes—had even cast him into prison, so that he might render an account and pay the penalty. This mandate of Gregory is proof that he was then discharging the office of bishop.

That which is sick ought to be cured, not crushed and broken. How, then, could our fellow-deacon Euthalius, neither fearing his rank, nor honoring their kinship and close relationship, crush the wretched Philadelphius with chains and blows, as even the marks of the blows ^C demonstrate, this I marvel at. Do not, therefore, receive the event with indifference, but when you have come to the occurrence... ^D

as the marks of the blows themselves also indicate? ^A This I have truly wondered at. Therefore, do not take what has happened lightly, but come yourself and explain to us what has occurred. Let the deacon himself also be present, both to render an account of the accusation and to receive judgment regarding the life of the man who has been crushed. For we cannot endure that such a shameful and indecent crime should be perpetrated almost before our own eyes.

127 CL. ASTERIO.

From the first words of this letter to Asterius, we can conclude that many of Gregory’s letters to him have been lost. For since he wrote frequently, and very few letters survive, many must necessarily have perished. "I know that I have often and on many matters sent letters to you," says Gregory. In these letters, he commends the deacon George, an excellent man: we do not suppose this George to be different from the one to whom the previous letter was written.

I rejoice to write, and yet to be accused, ^B because I do not write, whenever this happens. For your accusations are also pleasant. Although I know that I have often and on many matters sent letters to you, and have also obtained those things which I sought from you by my prayers. And if nothing else, the multitude of those who have been affected by your benefits is a testimony to my letters. But if you indeed are richer in friendship than anyone’s prayers can express, I, on the contrary, am more timid in asking. You indeed possess the primacy of virtue; but as for me, let there be forgiveness for one who avoids the stigma of importunity; since it has been declared in the words of the Wise that every measure is best. But thanks be to God, who has granted you the power to do good to others, and has appointed you a common benefactor and a colleague in authority for us. Therefore, now also, through this letter of mine, I entrust to you our brother and fellow-deacon George, a man distinguished for us and most useful to the Church, asking that he may find confidence in those matters in which he is contending with some, and that he may not be carried away ^C by unjust and tyrannical power.

CLI. TO NECTARIUS.

He asks Nectarius to commend George, who is afflicted by various calamities, to the Count of the Domestics.

Many people make a very fine conjecture regarding your mind; or rather, they do not merely conjecture, but ^D [by praising us...]

others, who do not disbelieve that you deem us worthy of no small ^A regard and honor. Among these is also our most honorable son, George, who, having fallen into great loss and sweating profusely over his affairs, finds one harbor of safety—to be presented to you by us, and to obtain some kindness from the most honorable Count of the domestics. Grant, therefore, this favor, if you will, to him and to his need; or if you prefer, to us, for I well know that it has been determined by you to grant all things to us, and you indeed persuade [us] by the deeds themselves. ^B

CLI. TO THEODORE

^B It is time for me to use that saying of Scripture: "To whom shall I cry aloud, suffering injustice? Who will reach out a hand to me, being oppressed?" To whom shall the burden of the Church be rolled, being so poorly disposed and dissolute? I testify before God and the elect angels that the flock of God suffers unworthy things, in that it is neither shepherded nor visited because of our own paralysis. For disease holds me confined, and has more quickly led me away from the helm of the Church, and now renders me altogether useless—I who breathe my last every day, and am even more crushed by the weight of affairs. If, therefore, this province had some other head, it would have been necessary to cry out and testify to that person. But since your piety ^C is situated in a superior position, it is necessary to have our eyes cast toward you. Take care of your Church in whatever way you think best, and do not overlook it as it acts in a manner unworthy of itself. For, to pass over other things, as to what the Apollinarists have now done by making an assault—having partly committed deeds and partly making threats—you shall learn from my masters, the compresbyters Eulalius the chorepiscopus and Celeusius, whom we have sent ^D on purpose to your piety. And that these things should be checked, [is a task] not for my age and weakness.

Moreover, to restrain these things is not a matter for our age and weakness, but for your prudence and power, since, besides other things, this also has been given to you by God for the common protection of the Church, ^A that you might excel in strength. But if I should not be heard in saying and writing these things, I will do the only thing that remains: I will publicly declare to all and make it clear that the Church stands in need of a bishop, so that it may not be injured by our infirmity. What follows, you yourselves shall know.

CLIII. TO BOSPORIUS, BISHOP OF COLONIA

^B This is the second time I have been tripped up and deceived by you (you know what I mean); and if it be justly, may the Lord smell from you an odor of sweetness; but if unjustly, may the Lord grant you pardon. For it is reasonable for me to speak of you in this way, since we are commanded to bear injuries inflicted upon us with an equable mind. But just as the power of your own will is in your own hands, so is my own also in mine. That troublesome Gregory will no longer be a burden to you. I will withdraw to God, who alone is pure and free from fraud. I will pull myself into myself. This I have advised myself. For the proverb grants to the foolish alone the privilege of striking against the same stone twice.

CLIV. TO OLYMPIUS

^C To us, you have been prefect even after your prefecture (for we judge matters differently than the multitude), since you possess in your own self all the virtues that are worthy of a prefect. For many of those who sit upon lofty ^D thrones lie prostrate on the ground in my estimation—men whom a low hand renders humble and abject, and servants of those over whom they preside.

But what does this mean for me? The great Olympius is no longer with us, nor does he hold our steering-oars. We are ruined, we are abandoned; we have become ^A a "second Cappadocia" once again, having been a "first" while under you. And as for the others, what is there to say? But who will now care for the old age of your Gregory, and soothe his infirmity with honors, and render him more esteemed by making your benevolence known to so many people? For the present, depart upon your journey with better guidance and escort, leaving many tears with us, yet carrying away with you great wealth—the kind that not many governors carry off: a good reputation, and the fact that you are inscribed and engraved upon the souls of all, like columns that cannot easily be moved. But if you should return to us ^B with a greater and more illustrious office (for this is what our longing desires), we shall certainly render more complete thanksgivings to God.

CLV. ASTERIUS

What is this that has happened to us? You have left us and departed, and we are suffering from illness. Nor did envy ^C grant us enough time to honor your departure with a speech. O what a disaster, and what an injustice! I am in danger of saying something quite bold: what good was it to accept the boon, if it was not meant to last? For nothing pleasant brings as much delight when it is present as it causes grief when it departs. We have been honored and glorified by you; we have enjoyed the fruits of your administration; we have been filled with your human kindness. We have not forgotten these things, nor shall we forget them; ^D our memory of ourselves will slip away before our memory of you does. But what benefit can we return to you in exchange for these things? What else, if not that which we hold most precious? We hold our prayers, by which I pray that salvation and glory may be attained for you. And may God grant that you are seen by us again, if only the lease of life is granted to us for that long.

CLVI. TO THE SAME.

Great among men was Hercules, as the story goes—and I am pleased, since you are a learned and eloquent man, to remind you of some of your own lore—but he would not have been such had he not had Iolaus as his companion in the contests, and especially against the Hydra, that savage, many-headed beast. The one would cut off the heads, and the other would burn them with fire, just as you do with the heads of wickedness. Many were outstripped by the sons of Actor in the chariot race, as it seems to Homer; for they were twins in both body and skill, and as they shared the reins and the whip between them, they secured victory for one another. A helmsman saves many passengers; but he would not save them in the same way if he were not assisted by a good look-out, who observes the winds, points out the reefs, and becomes, as it were, the eye of the ship. ^B Such, in our judgment, are you. For when the governor is famous in his own right, you, by your additional effort and assistance, make him more famous still. We praise you for many things, but we admire you most for this: that while you preserve such great goodwill toward the public interest, you nevertheless give scope to the duties of friendship, not by showing your precision through a harshness of character (as many of the immoderate ones do, who do not know how to keep a balance), exhibiting a rigor of the law, but rather by tempering the austerity of authority with gentleness.

CLVII. TO THEODORUS.

Spiritual matters have an end: I will no longer give you ^C trouble. Gather together, fortify yourselves, devise plans against us. Let those who hate us prevail; let the canons be observed precisely, by us, for whom...

from the most ignorant of men. There is no jealousy of the truth; but let not the offices of friendship be prohibited. The children of my most honorable son Nicobulus have come to the city to learn shorthand; ^A please look after them, and do so in other respects and as a father (for the canons do not forbid even this), and see to it that they reside near the Church. For I desire that their characters also be molded toward virtue, as they continually associate with your perfection.

CLVIII. TO EULALIUS

Eulalius, to whom this letter is written, is none other than he who had recently been appointed over the Church of Nazianzus. Therefore, it could not have been written before the year was out, at which time Gregory finally accomplished what he had long attempted in vain with many prayers and efforts, namely, that a bishop should be set over Nazianzus. Gregory, having explored Alypiana’s purpose, gives an account to Eulalius, and at the same time urges him to pour out prayers for the girl, and to cultivate what she has received as a beginning of salvation, to the glory of God: by which words are clearly designated the bishop’s duty toward those who are virgins sacred to God, and the Church of Nazianzus itself.

Nothing is stronger than the truth, as it seems to Esdras and to me; for the virgin Alypiana, when we demanded with all diligence from her an account of her own purpose, as you had instructed, spoke freely and ingenuously, confessing the truth and her state of virginity, and holding to it with greater fervor than we expected, yet with greater constancy than fervor—a virginal fervor, I say, yet with aged responses. And so the harshness of our interrogation appeared mild in its outcome, for it rather demonstrated the firmness of her resolve. Knowing these things, therefore, pour out prayers for the girl; and cultivate what she has received as a beginning of salvation, to the glory of God and of us, and of the whole order of the devout.

CLIX. TO THEODORE

We place here this letter to Theodore, and several others, which may be referred to the year 582 or 583, as one chooses. For they contain nothing by which they might be recognized by any mark or be proven by certain argument at what time they were written. In this letter, Gregory commends to Theodore (whom we believe to be of Tyana) his kinswoman Amazonia, a pious virgin.

My own kinswoman, but your foster-child, a possession dear to God, I offer ^C to your piety—the most venerable of our daughters, Amazonia, the...

our virgin Amazonius, whose faith you either honor and for whose bodily infirmity you provide aid, and for this reason extend to her a hand in all matters and undertake her care, you will perform a deed worthy of your nobility and, I shall add, of our friendship.

CLX. TO THE SAME.

Gregory commends to Theodorus the right of Eugenia to claim her inheritance.

You and we also desire this, that our daughter Eugenia should obtain her right from your piety, and that you should not permit her to be treated unjustly by her own heirs. She would be injured, if anything were taken from her out of those things which were left by her grandmother to her granddaughter; whom she reared with the utmost care and left [to her], though she bequeathed but few things to her, when nevertheless she had promised much at the time, and hoped that she would leave them to her.

CLXI. TO THE SAME.

He signifies to Theodorus that he acquiesces in the judgment given against a certain man, and he confirms this with valid reasons himself. This epistle in the editions is inscribed to Leontius, but in the Paris Church—now the Royal—codex, and therefore to Theodorus.

I have written the things which seemed to me just. But if something else, and not these things, has come to your mind (and I do not doubt that they come forth for the best reason), we shall accept that too. For otherwise we would be unjust and inequitable toward piety itself, if we were to proffer those who come to us to you, as one judging justly and uprightly, and yet not acquiesce in the things which you decide; which is something that most of those who are extremely miserable and unlearned are accustomed to do.

CLXII. TO THE SAME.

Whatever has been written to your piety by my most venerated lords the bishops, consider that same thing to have been written by us as well; and I beseech you, extend a right hand to these noble women, and do not permit them to be vexed and oppressed by the tyrannical power of that man against whom they have proceeded: but aid them, as is fitting, if you know what they suffer and for what cause they suffer; but if you do not know that they suffer this very thing, it is because the injustice is unknown to you, nor does it merit belief. But if anyone could be more inquisitive... ^D

and that we are taking upon ourselves a judgment that does not concern us, let this persuade you—and we shall be satisfied. But now I fear that this is not so. For, in the first place, the things of Christ—and Christ Himself—are not divided, nor is His kindness constrained by any boundaries. But even if anyone should suppose them to be divided, I know two persons who are burdened by this matter: namely, your reverence and myself, should what is just be neglected; for those who are being judged are under the care and administration of us both. And there is fear that the truth might be eroded by an artful use of words. For this reason, judge jointly with us, and exercise jurisdiction beforehand, ^B and defend our weakness, lest we be brought into such necessity as to have to fight for the truth with more intense spirit—relying on the help of God and the assistance of your prayers—even while we are in this state of physical health.

CLXIII. TO THE SAME

Here fittingly follows another letter to the same Theodorus, which I can deservedly call canonical. It was read in the fifth general council. In it, the Theologian condemns Georgius Paspasinus, who thought he was not bound to abide by his promises, nor was he held by an oath, because they were not inscribed upon parchment, nor were the promises made with imprecations. Having dispelled this error, Gregory persuades Georgius to confess his sin before God and Theodorus, whom he calls the great physician of souls, and asks him to treat the sinner according to the canons, and to grant him a period of time kindly, in proportion to his compunction.

May God grant you to the Churches, both for our glory and for the benefit of many, being one who is so circumspect and cautious in spiritual matters that you make us, who are thought to have attained to something more by age, even more cautious. Since, therefore, you have wished to have us as participants in a spiritual inquiry (I mean regarding the oath by which Georgius Paspasinus appears to have bound himself), we will declare to your reverence what has occurred to us. As I am accustomed to say, most people deceive themselves, regarding oaths proposed with imprecations as oaths, but regarding written documents without [such] words as a mere formality, and not as an oath. For how can we think that a debtor's bond binds1 more than a simple agreement, yet conceive of a written oath as anything other than an oath?

[…] will we deem it valid; and, to speak summarily, for us the oath is the pledge made to the one who asked and believed. ^A Yet it is by no means sufficient, as an excuse, to say that one was compelled by force (for the law was the violence, which he imposed upon himself), nor that he was later the superior party in the tribunal; for the litigation itself is a violation of the oath. This, too, I persuaded our brother George, not to feign excuses for his sins, nor to invent arguments as advocates for his transgression; but to acknowledge the oath that was written, and to weep before God and before your reverence for his sin, even if he had thought differently before, deceiving himself. These things, then, we discussed with the man; and it is manifest that if you speak with him more diligently, you will be able to compunct him all the more, as a great physician of souls, and having treated him with the canon or rule for as much time as may seem appropriate, you will then grant an indulgence of time. The measure of the time, however, is the measure of the compunction. ^B

CLXIV. TO TIMOTHEUS

^B This letter could have been dated to the year 382. If, however, one considers the end, it fits rather the year 383; at which time, Eulalius having finally been consecrated bishop of Nazianzus, Gregory had no further business, except to offer prayers to God and to think of his departure from this life. Who that Timotheus is, the letters themselves will show. He praises his virtues: being praised by him, he receives his praises in a wondrous way and exhorts him to contend manfully for the Trinity.

I am always a good hunter of good men (for it is pleasant to boast a little in the manner of the young), inasmuch as I discovered even your own erudition—which was hiding itself and striving to be unknown—by certain tracking arguments, and I made it known to others. And, to borrow something from our own teaching, I took the light that was hidden under the bushel and placed it upon the lampstand, and brought it into the middle. ^C For to pass over your other virtues—I mean learning, piety, and the ease and modesty of your character (for one man to possess all these is a very difficult thing)—behold, how great is that which you are doing now! You both remember us, and embrace us through your letters, and add praises, not that you might praise us (for I understand your philosophy), but that you might make us better, and lead us forward, ashamed not to appear such as you assume us to be. As for our own affairs, ^D

has an end. We have given way to envy, we philosophize at peace with God, we pass our time alone in prayers, and we have been freed from the commotions and clamors in our midst. But do you act manfully and be strengthened ^B, and contend to the best of your power for the Trinity. And let the gentle man be a fighter, as you saw us doing; for I do not wish for monkeys to be in good repute, while lions are at rest. And pray for us who are greatly troubled, so that we may obtain a peaceful departure from life, toward which we are now already tending.

CLXV. TO THE SAME

I hear that you are bearing your misfortune in an unphilosophical manner, and I do not praise it; for one must write the truth, especially to an ^C individual who is a friend and who lays claim to goodness and honesty. For I feel this way about these matters, as I persuade myself, and very correctly. I approve of neither excessive insensibility nor excessive bitterness of soul. For the former is inhuman, and the latter is unphilosophical. But one must tread the middle path, so as to appear more philosophical than those who are carried away by excessive unbridled grief, and more human than those who philosophize without measure. And if I were writing to someone else, I would perhaps have needed a longer discourse, and I would have had to partly sympathize with your plight, and partly to exhort you, and partly perhaps to rebuke you. For pity ^D has great power to alleviate pain; and he who is sick requires the healing hand of one who is in health. However, since I am addressing an educated man, it will suffice to say this: Turn back to yourself and to the books with which you have been familiar, in which there are many lives, and many modes of life, and many pleasures and mildnesses; and many, as is likely, misfortunes and hardships. God weaves these things together one with another; in my opinion, so that neither that which grieves might be without healing, nor that which joys without instruction, and so that, observing the instability and variability that is in these things, we might look toward Him alone. Therefore, we bring these things forward as a rule and standard for your distress. And if you have known any of those who have been greatly overwhelmed by painful things to be praised, or any who have achieved something through their pain, use your grief and enjoy your mourning — for no one begrudges that we should meet with misfortune.

...that someone among those who have succumbed too much to the bitterness of circumstances has been praised, or even that by grieving they have achieved something, then give yourself over to sorrow and enjoy your mourning (there is no one to whom a mourned calamity should cause envy); but if you have known him to be blamed and censured, the old proverb says: "He who has wounded will heal" (72); but now it would be apt to say: "He who has been wounded." Indeed, otherwise it would be shameful for us, and foreign to our law, to imitate the common crowd in such matters; since the divine word makes us superior even to present circumstances, and persuades us to pass by these things as shadows and riddles, and to consider neither the painful nor the pleasant as the truth; but to live elsewhere and to look thither, and to acknowledge only vice as painful, and only virtue and union with God as pleasant (73). Sing these things to yourself, and you will be relieved; or rather, I know that you have already practiced this, and will practice it (74), even if we do not write to you.

CLXVI. TO THE SAME.

^B Gregory’s rebuke having stung Timotheus a little, he wrote back, saying that it is no great judgment to pass from the shore on those who are sailing, and that it is a greater thing to struggle oneself than to exhort others to endure calamities. Gregory replies to this dart turned against himself in epistle 166, saying that he accepts it with an even mind, provided only that Timotheus be concerned to show a strong and philosophical spirit against his sorrow. This was written not long after the previous epistle.

I have received some fruit, noble sir, or perhaps not a little, from my letter, as if from a skilled physician of such diseases. Rebuke has driven sorrow from you, and shame has moved into the place of grief; and you are stirred to resist very sophistically and bravely. And you seem to me, like the horses of Achilles in Homer, having raised your head on high and shaken off the dust (since it was time to cease mourning Patroclus), to burn again with a desire for the fields, and for arms, and for displays. So brilliant and ambitious, and not a little stinging as well, is your letter to me, if I understand you at all. But let this one thing be your concern: that you apply a strong and philosophical spirit against your sorrow; and we will accept that with an even mind, that it is no great thing to judge passing sailors from the land, and that it is greater to struggle than to exhort others to endure calamities. Unless someone should say this, that it is not for you to struggle or to...

if we do not combat or struggle in a very ignorant or cowardly manner, many will judge.

CLXVII. TO HELLADIUS

CLXVIII. TO PHOTIUS

CLXIX. TO STRATEGIUS

and common port for all those who serve the Lord! Others enjoy your good things; but for me, only the memory remains, and the jealousy toward those who share in them. But so that you too may share in our blessings, I introduce to you our most honorable brother and fellow-presbyter Sacerdos, whom I know you will say, when you see him: "Truly, Gregory is a lover of everything good."

CLXX. TO PALLADIUS

That I dare to write to you often should be attributed not to our boldness, ^B but to your kindness; for no satiety ever takes hold of us in conversing with you by letter, seeing as no other opportunity is given, God having so ordered our affairs. Now, as for our very dear son and fellow-presbyter Sacerdos (whom we have singularly loved and do love), who conducts his life with true seriousness and is united to God through moderation of life, he who because of his own affairs has set out to the great city with your help—I do not know what greater favor we could have done him than by introducing him to your integrity.

CLXXI. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

Hardly had we breathed again ^C after the labors of illness, when we hastened to you, the author of our recovery. For the tongue of a priest that meditates on the Lord rouses those who are sick. Therefore, when you perform the divine mysteries, do that which is most excellent, and absolve for us the mass of our sins, as you touch the victim of the resurrection day. For to me, both waking and sleeping, your concerns are a care and a solicitude, and you have become for me a good plectrum, and you have made a harmonious lyre to dwell in our minds, by which, writing a thousand times, you have whetted our minds for knowledge. But, O most holy servant of God, do not delay both to pray and to perform the office of intercession for us,

when you celebrate the bloodless sacrifice of the Lord's Body and Blood, using your voice in place of a sword.

CLXXII. TO HELLADIUS

CLXXIII. TO POSTUMIANUS

power, not as a gift of fortune, as the many might say, but having received this as a prize of virtue, so that the dignity itself may become more honorable, and the Emperor be praised for his judgment regarding you. ^A But these things are still small; I shall add something of our own. You were initiated into piety first, and then you received this position. For I remember your own words, and that wonder still echoes in my ears. If to these you were to add also the remembering of friends (and I know that you will add it, for I infer this from the past), we shall admire you all the more. This is the boundary of human happiness, or rather, blessedness. ^B We believe Pindar, the philosopher, that what is beyond Gades is not passable for men. But since you have attained great things, and are bound by great names, and God first made you ours, and then set you over us as a benefactor, and at the same time, as it is strange for a man of such stature not to demand the greatest things, accept this from me as counsel. Do not think anything is so fitting for your office (since there is once again an assembly of bishops, I know not for what reason or how they are gathering) as that, with you presiding and through your efforts, the Churches might be reconciled, even if it is necessary to rebuke those who cause schisms more harshly. ^C And if to anyone I seem excessive because, having withdrawn from business, I have not put aside care and concern, do not be surprised. For we have not yielded in matters of piety just as we yielded, to those who wished it, in matters of thrones and pride: rather, I believe I shall have greater trust and authority with you on this account, as I am not looking after my own private business, but the public good.

CLXXIV. TO EUDOXIUS THE RHETORICIAN

We place here various letters to Eudoxius the rhetorician, most of them of almost uncertain date, because Nicobulus the younger could scarcely have heard Eudoxius later than this year. For, having first set out for Tyana in order to learn the art of rapid writing, and having been commended at the end of the year 382, or the beginning of 383, to the bishop of this city by Theodore, he was sent to Caesarea in Cappadocia for the sake of the humanities and rhetoric. Finally, at Constantinople, and soon after in other cities, he devoted his efforts to various other sophists—his father being still alive and commanding it—in the year 384, as we suppose, since his father Nicobulus died the following year. ^D Therefore, Nicobulus heard Eudoxius in that year, and thus all the letters to Eudoxius in which mention is made of Nicobulus, and the rest written to Nicobulus himself, correspond to this year. Now this Eudoxius was a Cappadocian, the son of a rhetorician of the same name, and himself a distinguished rhetorician, and a Christian, whom Gregory commended for his eloquence to Sophronius, Themistius, and Saturninus; and he commends to this same Eudoxius his own most cherished pledges, namely, the sons of Nicobulus, in the letters following and those closest to come. I surpass you in the duties of friendship. For I write first, as you see, so that it may be permitted, when someone has reached such a measure and end, beyond which nature does not allow one to progress.

^A as you see. And know well that I would not have adorned myself (for it is not my way), if I did not hold your friendship in high esteem, nor would it have seemed to me a necessary thing, just like a whip, to urge you to write. And you would be most provoked to this if you reflect upon who I am, and to whom, and for whose sake I write what I write, and that it is fitting for children to be heirs of friendship, just as they are of their father's property. ^B Furthermore, it is also well to consider that you are still in the prime of philosophizing; whereas we are the parents of philosophers, and we must show virtue to them, just as noble athletes are wont to show it to those who have been their trainers in the palaestra. Shall I say something even greater than what has been said? You possess no small pledges of our philosophy; you are educating our own blood, and the blood of those nearest to us. I know whom I mean: the children of our most genuine and most honorable son Nicobulus. Whenever you cooperate with them, ^C consider that you are mindful of us, who are—if one must believe those who say it—second to none in judging words, in examining zeal, and in praising high-minded teachers to make them greater.

CLXXV. TO THE SAME

My Nicobulus comes to you again, and again I am superfluous, urging on him who is already, of his own accord, speeding toward you. But since the young man is of a fine nature (unless wishful thinking deceives me), but—as is very often joined to those of elegant disposition—is in a way laborer under sloth and stands in need of spurs, do you bring your own zeal and diligence to bear. And, to borrow something from your literature, imitating the mythical cicada, and taking the place of the broken string for your Eunomus, complete the melody. In this way, I think you will prove successful with the youth and gratify us.

[...reaching] glory from your youth; and you will confer upon us a very great benefit, since we do not place many things before you and your erudition.

CLXXVI. TO THE SAME

Gregory mollifies Eudoxius who is angry with him, and entrusts Nicobulus to him once again.

What shall we say has happened to you toward us, admirable sir? What is the cause of your not writing? We shall not accuse you of disdain, nor of sloth, nor of not having anything ^B to write. For it is not like you to suffer from such afflictions. Truly, it is that you are angry with us over those iambics which that fellow, who deserves to perish, Valentinus, spat out, and that with your own consent. For it was not the part of a man of rhetoric and eloquence to take vengeance on a man who had in the first place not hesitated to vent such lampoons.

But, O Achilles, tame your great anger,... ^C and move again for us your spear, that is, your pen; lest you seem, having suffered small grievances, to make an assault upon greater things, that is, upon the episcopal character. Ride, hunt, proceed as you wish—as far as I am concerned, we shall neither write anything more, nor shall we jest. And of these things, so much is enough; we value your friendship highly. Thus far, we have jested with you. But now, it is no longer the part of those who jest, but of those who are acting in earnest, that we entrust once again ^D our most sweet son Nicobulus to you. And I would wish you to receive him from us as from us, and in doing so, to bestow the rhetorical work upon his father, but the sophistic one upon us. For I do not doubt that, if you wish, the business will have a favorable course. For the admirable sophists you will leave only a raised eyebrow, and the strife over "attaining more."

CLXXVII. TO THE SAME

How goes it with your virtue? And have we made any progress toward God? Which befits you even more than all else.

we consider. For these things are dear to us to inquire about and to hear. Let us leave other things to be bid farewell, however they may be ^A. And yet, even if we were to wish for these things to be managed successfully, we so wish it for this reason: so that you may possess what you have despised, and philosophize more upon greater things. Accept these words from us for the sake of a greeting, and show yourself to be such a man to the excellent young Nicobulus, as we hope. But if we even ask for more, satisfy our excessive desire, as one who is liberal and munificent.

CLXXVIII. TO THE SAME

By this letter he exhorts Eudoxius to embrace philosophy, having despised riches, splendor, applause, and the entire genre of oratory, and to adhere to God.

There was an ancient law at Athens, and one in my judgment most beautifully ^B established, that youths, when they reached the age of puberty, should be led to the arts, and they were led in this manner: the instruments of every art were set forth publicly, and the youths were brought to them. Whatever each one happened to take delight in, and to run toward, in that art he was also instructed; as most things succeed for those who undertake them under the guidance of nature, but fail for those who undertake them against nature. What is the purpose of this story for me? I am saying that you also ought to provide for this: that you should not neglect philosophy, for which you are naturally well-equipped, nor accustom yourself to any other art that is not sufficiently suitable to you, rather than embracing this one toward which you incline by nature—not only because it is most excellent, but also because it is more accommodated to your nature. Moreover, that the course of a river should not be forced is also what the proverb teaches, and poetry likewise forbids him who has learned the art of horsemanship from the study of singing; lest what happen? Lest you fail both in horsemanship ^C and in song.

Minerva attempts something. Similar to this is that of Horace, *Epistles* I, 24: *Drive out nature with a pitchfork, yet it will always return,* *And secretly break through the evil traces, victorious.*

And the *Anthology of Epigrams*, book 70, page 108: *Why, having celebrated me, have you stopped my song?* *The horseman knows how to ride, and the singer to sing;* *If someone, being a horseman, should wish to sing,* *He fails in both, both in horsemanship and in song.* *Let everyone practice the art which he knows.* ^D

^A What then is this aptitude of nature? As it appeared to me upon observation: first, the character, and the serenity and simplicity of disposition, and its unsuitability to these vicissitudes of life. Next, the natural capacity and loftiness of mind, and the readiness for contemplation. Third, the care of the sick, and the frailty of the body; for this, too, is thought by Plato to be no small weight in favor of philosophy. Moreover, you are of such an age that your passions are already subsiding. And it seems to me that you are not so much crushed by poverty as you are adorned by it. You also know how to feel shame, unlike the rhetoricians. You do not have a defiled tongue, you have not become a villain, you are not a vulgar babbler, nor do you possess any of those traits—to put it briefly—with which ^B Democritus, who is superior to Aristophanes in the skill of leading the people, fashions the vulgar man. But though you are called a rhetorician, you are, in terms of character, everything rather than a rhetorician. Therefore, do not wish to abandon the philosophy you have already grasped, nor prefer to hold the second place in secondary matters rather than the first in the greatest ones. And even if we were to grant you the first place among those of this world, do not endure to excel among jackdaws, when you are able to be an eagle.

147 How long shall we be puffed up by small and earthy things, and play with adolescents and fables, and be carried away by applause? Let us depart from here, let us become men, let us cast away dreams, let us pass by shadows, let us leave the delights of life to others, ^C since they have more of pain than of pleasure. Let envy, and time, and fortune busy themselves with others, and toss them about, and mock them—that which they call the inconsistency and irregularity of human affairs. Let thrones, and dominions, and riches, and splendors, and elations, and downfalls, and this cheap, despicable little glory—to which ^D others are attached—fall away.

someone would suffer more shame for seizing, ^A or being mocked by, the games and theatrical displays of this great stage. But let us embrace the Word, and choose to have God in place of all things, the only lasting good and our own; so that it may be our good fortune here, while we are yet small, and seeking this, or else by all means in the hereafter. For the prize of virtue is to become God, and to be irradiated by the purest light, which is contemplated in the Trinity, whose rays we now possess only in small measure. Set out for these things, advance, unfold your wings in your mind, lay hold of eternal life, never halt your hopes, until you arrive at that highly desirable and blessed ^B good. And you will praise us, I know well, now more sparingly, but a little later more abundantly and copiously, when you see yourself in the state we promise, and find that these things are not empty happiness nor mere fantasies of the mind, but the truth of realities.

CLXXIX. TO THE SAME.

^C Quid ais? num te his verbis permovemus, et docendi munus depones? This is how Gregory begins the letter so abruptly. These words cannot more clearly refer to and designate the preceding letter. Gregory urges Eudoxius, now already moved, to embrace God most closely.

What say you? Can we move you with these words, and will you lay down the office of teaching, and join yourself to us, who were once like you, but are now, if it be permitted so to speak, your superiors? Or must you be coaxed by a longer speech? I pray you, wondrous man, do not expect it. For it is shameful for one who has the larger part not to attain the whole. For if the beginning of everything is half the whole, what else can that which exceeds the half be, but the whole? If indeed you are content with our counsel, the matter stands well, and let nothing further be sought. But if you have need of a better monitor, Solomon advises you to drink wine with counsel, so that you are not overturned by the drunkenness and dizziness of this life. ^D I, however, with my counsel slightly altered, say this: Take counsel with God, and you will not swerve from what is right.

CLXXX. TO THE SAME.

It seems Eudoxius has replied that he has not yet fully persuaded himself to devote his whole self to a holier philosophy, though he is already philosophizing in his mind. For Gregory, writing back and praising this purpose of his mind, adds: Even if you do not yet profess philosophy; and he attempts by wonderful art to advance him to greater things.

^A Excellent son of an excellent father, as I hear, do you lift yourself up, progress prosperously, and reign: and we shall proclaim your praises, even if you do not yet profess philosophy. For we do not attend more to what you say than to what you do; since even this very thing, not to profess philosophy, is highly philosophical. The critic Dionysius says the same thing regarding the orator Lysias, that his very lack of art was a matter of the highest art.

CLXXXI. TO SATURNINUS.

By this letter Gregory commends Eudoxius to Saturninus, who entered upon the consulship this year. This is signified by the very first words of the letter: Although the height of the empire shuts off all access. These letters could not be placed in a more suitable position.

Although the height of the empire shuts off all access, yet friendship is kindly and accessible, through which it has come about that I have not hesitated to offer this prayer to you. To all your benefits towards me, add this crowning piece. I would like you to look kindly upon our most learned and eloquent son, Eudoxius, a man worthy of your virtue both in life and in learning; and if he should need the help of your probity in any matter, may you deign to provide him your protection. We, for our part, shall repay you with prayers: the only favor which we are able to bestow upon those who deserve well of us.

CLXXXII. TO GREGORY OF NYSSA.

We have observed more than once that Gregory, after he returned home to his country from Constantinople, spared no labor to see that a bishop was appointed over the Church of Nazianzus. At length, by prayers, supplications, and clamors, he became successful in his wish; and Eulalius, Gregory’s kinsman, a venerable man, was created bishop of Nazianzus, at the end of the year or the beginning of the next. But Gregory again lay open to the bites of envy. His adversaries had previously objected that the Church of Nazianzus, being small, was despised by him. But after Eulalius was consecrated, they proclaimed that he had been consecrated and set over the Church of Nazianzus against Gregory’s will and despite his resistance, and that the Theologian had all but been expelled. Gregory refutes this calumny in the letter that follows, and narrates how Eulalius was created bishop at his own request.

[G] Woe is me, that my sojourning is prolonged; and, what is the head of all evils, our affairs are ablaze with wars and seditions, and we have not kept the peace which we received from the holy Fathers. I do not doubt that you yourself will restore this, in the power of that Spirit who governs and moderates both you and all that is yours. But as for us, let no one, I beseech you, spread false tales, nor claim regarding the noble bishops that, against our will and despite our resistance, they appointed another bishop for us. For not so much did they...

and they are not so hostile toward us. But having prayed much on account of my own mortification, and at the same time fearing the burden of a neglected Church, I requested this favor of them—which is neither contrary to the canons nor a relief to us—that a shepherd be given to the Church, who has indeed been given in answer to your prayers, and is worthy of your piety. I place him into your hands ^A, the most reverend Eulalius, the most God-beloved bishop, in whose hands I might breathe my last. But if someone thinks that another ought not to be ordained while a bishop is living, let him know that even in this respect he has no advantage over us. For it is clear to all that we were not appointed for Nazianzus, but for Sasima, even if, out of respect for my father and those who entreated me, we accepted the supervision as guests for a short time.

CLXXXIII. TO THEODORE THE BISHOP

^A placing him, a God-beloved bishop, because it is not right [to ordain] when a bishop is living. While living. These things hold no authority over us. Authority held. Let him know that even in this respect [no one] holds authority over us. Even in this respect to hold authority over us. But of Sasima. To Theodore the bishop. Of Tyana, of the Tyanenses. We were embroiled in sedition, not, others. *As among the echino-feet and amidst the rough ononis / The flowers of soft white violets grow.* Now and into necessity.

[Note: The Latin column on this page provides a version of the text and extensive critical notes which are integrated into the primary translation where applicable.] [alt-version omitted]

Now, as for writing to the other bishops about whom you wrote, the time for this is not yet, and therefore I will omit it. At the same time, my infirmity makes me more reluctant for this task; yet what we write to you, we write to them through you. ^B Let my lord and God-beloved bishop Helladius cease from scrutinizing our affairs. For he pursues these matters not with a spiritual, but with a contentious disposition, and not out of a tenacity for canonical discipline, but to vent his anger, as is manifest from the present time, and from the many who have been stirred up with him without reason—for one must speak thus, and not cause distress. For if I were in such a state of body as to be able to preside over the Church of Nazianzus, of which I was declared the head from the beginning, and not over Sasima, as some are wrongly persuading you—I was not so wretched, nor so ignorant of divine ordinances, as to despise the Church, or to pursue the ease of life, in preference to the rewards laid up for those who labor according to God, and for those who put to use the talent entrusted to them. For what would be the benefit of my many toils and great hopes, if I had deliberated poorly concerning the greatest matters? ^C Since, however, my body is in a weak state, as is manifest to all, and I have feared no burden or trouble from this withdrawal, for the reason I mentioned; and since I saw the Church clinging to us, yet being harmed in vital matters, and nearly dissolved by my own withdrawal, I have implored both before and now my lords and most God-beloved bishops, my fellow-countrymen, to give the Church a head, which, with God’s help, they have done—a head worthy both of my own desire and of your prayers. Therefore, understand these things yourself, most honorable lord, and instruct the remaining bishops to receive him and to approve him with their own vote, and not to burden my old age by giving credence to slanders. Let this also be added to the

in letters: if your investigation finds any evil regarding the faith in my lord, that most God-beloved fellow-minister Bosporius—which it is not even lawful to speak of (for I pass over the long time and our own testimony)—judge this yourselves. ^A If, however, the inquiry concerns the parishes, and from this is manufactured an accusation of heresy, and the charge is a new one, do not, I entreat you, be dragged away by slanders, nor let disparagements carry more weight with you than the truth; lest you cause distress to many who are disposed to act rightly. Farewell, be in good spirits, and continuing to progress in God, may you be granted to us and to the Church, as the common ornament that you are.

CLXXXIV. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

^B May the Lord fulfill all your petitions (and do not refuse a father's prayer). For you have sufficiently refreshed our old age, both by traveling as far as Parnassus, as you were requested, and by refuting the slander brought against that most honorable and God-beloved bishop. For wicked men love to turn their own faults back upon those who reprove them. For the time spent by the man, and his life, are stronger than any accusation, ^C and we ourselves, who have often heard the same things from him and have taught them, as well as those who have been brought back from error and added to the common body of the Church; yet the current time, being evil, stood in need of a more accurate and certain proof for the sake of the calumniators and the malicious, which you have provided for us, or rather for those who labor under lightness of mind and are easily misled into error by such men. And if you wish, even by undertaking a longer journey, to bear witness for yourself and to arbitrate for those who are in dispute along with the other bishops, you will be performing a spiritual work, and one worthy of your perfection. I and all who are with me greet the brotherhood that is with you.

CLXXXV. NECTARIO

^A When another praises something of yours, and all promote your good reputation as in the public forum, I contribute what I can, and not less than any, because you deign to honor us, like a beloved son soothing a father’s old age. For this reason, I have also ventured now to offer this appeal to you on behalf of the most reverend and God-beloved Bishop Bosporius, blushing partly because so great a man has need of our letters—he whose way of life and age establish his reverence—yet feeling no less shame that I should be silent and institute no discourse on his behalf, though I am endowed with a voice, and cultivate the faith, and, most of all, know the man. You will surely dissolve the controversy that has arisen concerning the parishes, according to the grace of the Spirit that is in you and the succession of the canons. But let it not seem tolerable to your reverence that our affairs should be paraded in the public courts. For even if they be Christians, as indeed by the benevolence of God the judges of such matters are, what has the sword in common with the Spirit? And if we should even concede this, how or where is it just that a discussion about the faith should be entangled with other controversies? Is the God-beloved Bishop Bosporius a heretic to us today? Is the gray hair of him who has brought back so many from error—who has shown such an example of sound opinion in the true faith, and has been the teacher of us all—to be weighed in the balance today? ^B Do not, I beseech you, give place to such calumnies; but if it is possible, settle the points at issue with peace, and let this too be added to your praises. If not, at least do not permit this, that we all be disgraced by such an outrage, in whose company he has spent his life and grown old; we, I say, whom you know to be zealous heralds of the Divinity, and [who serve] with peril,

and outside of danger, and who suffer nothing to be taken away from the one and unapproachable ^A Deity. And pray for us, I beseech you, as we are suffering greatly from infirmity. I and all those with me greet the brotherhood that is with you. May you be granted to us and to the Churches, healthy, cheerful, and esteemed in the Lord, as a common pillar ^B.

CLXXXVI. TO THE SAME

What would you have done if I were present and had business? It is clear that you would have exerted every effort to free me from the vexation, if one must judge by what has happened before. Grant this favor to us even now through our most honorable niece, who is falling at your feet through me, having regard both for the age of the supplicant, and having regard for her character ^C and piety—for she is far removed from the manners of most women—and having regard, among other things, for the woman’s lack of worldly ambition, and the fact that she is currently having trouble from her own kinsmen, and above all for our request. But the greater favor is the speed of the good deed we are asking for. For the unjust judge in the Gospel granted the widow’s request for humanity’s sake, but only after much entreaty and attendance. But from you let there be swiftness, so that she may not labor for long with anxieties and the hardships of her troubles in a foreign land; ^D although I know full well that your piety will indeed make even a foreign land feel like a homeland to her.

CLXXXVII. TO EUDOXIUS

You complain that I do not write, although I myself, I think, am not one of those who have sent many letters, unless perhaps sickness is making me delirious and forgetful of the benefits I have received. And yet, if nothing else, at the very least for those of us who are on the point of death, the person from [the...

a funeral oration was owed by you, whose art consists in declaiming and writing. And let this be the end of our reproaches: for it is not fitting, when we accuse as a friend, to do so beyond the limits of friendship. ^A What you write concerning my sweetest son Nicobulus is indeed most great and wonderful, and of such a kind that it might easily sweep away a father’s indulgence, who readily gives credit to the things he desires. But we shall believe these things to be true only when the young man, having given a proof of himself to us, shows himself not unworthy either of your promises or of our hopes.

CLXXXVIII. TO STAGIRIUS

Nicobulus betook himself to hear Stagirius by his own counsel, and also by the will of his father, but by no means according to the opinion of Gregory, who nevertheless commended him to Stagirius in these letters.

Are you an Attic in your education? We are Attics too. Do you preside over the young? We preside over every age. Do you fashion them in speech? We fashion them in character. We have many things in common one with another; but one thing in particular, before all and above all, is our sweetest son Nicobulus, who is set in our midst. By doing well toward him, you will display both your learning and our friendship, if at least you care for it. And I think you do, if I am not mistaken. ^B For even veteran athletes are held in honor by the young; and they are considered to perform an act of gratitude according to the laws of the wrestling school, to the same extent that they offer the prizes of victory to them.

CLXXXIX. TO EUSTOCHIUS THE SOPHIST

To this sophist, whom he seems to have had as a companion and friend at Athens in the study of letters, he commends the illustrious youth Pronoïus.

Imitate Alexander, most admirable man; and as he, in order to please the Athenians, was more liberal and magnificent, and for that reason always called Athens the theater ^C of his own kingdom, in the same way do you also, deeming us to be something—although we are nothing—yet because of the same pursuit of letters, and because of Athens herself, and furthermore out of reverence for the common parents of eloquence, strive to double for the illustrious Pronoïus his zeal for letters and learning. Whatever you bestow upon the youth, you will bestow upon us, who are suitable for receiving a favor, and ^D not poor critics of fine speeches; for even if we sit below the sophistical chairs, we are not inferior to those who seek silence.

assigning to ourselves a safe reward ^A, though we fall short of the sophistic thrones, since we have imposed upon ourselves that duty of silence which is free from danger.

EPISTLE CXC. TO THE SAME

O Ulysses, you have sharply stung me, reproaching me with Stagirism, and, with sophistic artifice, most zealously turning and twisting me. Yet I praise that freedom of speech of yours, that you write what you write. For it is better to speak out what causes pain to the spirit than to remain silent, as if saying [nothing] to those who are unaware. I also have something of which to accuse you. Nevertheless, that I may observe the law ^B of the courts, I will first make my defense, and then I will accuse; and both I will do with equal goodwill. Nicobulus, my own, approached the excellent Stagirius, not by our counsel—do not think that! I am not so forgetful of Athens, or of your friendship and companionship. But he set out by his own impulse and the will of his father, while to me he was committed and recommended by letters. What is there here that is unfriendly or inhuman? But since you have the defense, receive also the accusation. I do not praise your Coroplathi ^C and Telchines, with whom you wrongfully ^D attack your rival;

^A for usage has prevailed that professors of the same art are called rivals and adversaries. How long shall these things continue? Shall we never put an end to this sophistic detraction and slander? Shall we wait until death tears us away from this wickedness? For in a young man, perhaps, who is burning with a desire for honor and grasping at wealth, and who does these things only sparingly, some measure of pardon might be granted (for I am pleased to use, for your gratification, a few words of Demosthenes); but for a man of that age, and in such a state of affairs, to publicly defame another and to be defamed in turn is altogether untimely and full of stubborn contention—not only because this is entirely dishonorable and sordid, but also because the ease of this matter is astonishing, just like a receding tide. For, to speak again with Homer: ^B

“What kind of word you speak, such you shall hear in return,”

and to in turn scratch the one who scratches is by no means reprehensible.

What wisdom is this, therefore, when it is possible to conquer by virtue, to be overcome by vice, or even to conquer by it, which is much worse? But on this account, too, to speak the truth, I hold that the judges must be accused, because what they condemn from the tribunal, the same things they praise when they hear them. And not only that, but they have many who praise along with them, and who incite the vice, and who are divided into factions and partisanship up to this point—when, if a thing is disbelieved, it ought not to be praised; and if it is believed, it ought to be judged publicly. Or at least this procedure should be adopted: that if false things are alleged, the accusers should be refuted; but if they are true, those against whom the speech is directed [should be judged]; and not that the reputation of noble men, a matter of the greatest importance, should be so easily exposed to mockery. ^C

Wherefore, if you obey my counsel (for I address both of you), allow such discourses and vituperations to pass, if for no other reason, then certainly out of reverence for gray hairs, or even out of weariness of the basest actions. But do you yourselves bring into your minds to comply with the ancient proverb, which bids you to embrace the cultivation of virtue when you have means enough for your livelihood. And do not lay snares for yourselves, nor for the hopes of the young ^D.

they would certainly suffer the most grievous harm if, while practicing the study of letters, they were to learn vice—and that, too, not without pay, just as if you were not the teachers of virtue, but of vice. If, however, I seem burdensome in writing these things, avenge yourself on me with the same weapons, and offer me some useful advice yourself, so that you may either benefit one who obeys your precepts, or accuse him who resists.

CXCI. TO THE SAME

^A How is it that I did not know! How foolish and inept it is! I admonished a man who is a sophist of his lack of sense, and yet I was not instructed even by the common proverb, that being bald I should not butt heads with a ram, nor stir up a hornet’s nest against myself, [that is,] a tongue more ready for speaking evil. ^B For this, therefore, I am not very much vexed—for I have been joined with many, as I hear, and if you live, I shall be placed before many others—but it pains me more that I did not convince you that I was doing this with a friendly intent. Nevertheless, I hope that you may do well in both body and soul, and that you may restrain your tongue, if possible; but as for now, we will bear our lot with a calm mind.

CXCII. TO STAGIRIUS

^C I shall speak somewhat freely to you; for I am so by nature, and I so desire it. If you would not share Nicobulus with us, ^D you will wrong me and Nicobulus. For we shall have offended a friend, and from you, we shall have gained nothing...

you will not grant it to me, you will act unjustly. For we shall have offended the mind of a friend, and shall have gained nothing more from you. But if you give as much as we hope, you will fulfill the duty of an upright and candid man, and both issues will turn out most admirably for us. For we shall make our defense to him, and we shall praise you. And if you also allow us to offer you paternal counsel, and you do not reject our advice out of your habit of commanding ^A, accept the message of a man not unskilled in such matters. Lay down at last your weapons, your slings, and those more fearsome spears—that is, your tongues—with which you mutually attack and wound one another, and this before those who applaud and praise you, whom you consider well-disposed toward you. And lay them down all the more readily, because this weapon is more prompt and prepared than the others, lest you otherwise appear to the young as guides to vice rather than to virtue, if not in words, then certainly in deeds. For in those things in which a person delights when they are done, he also gives advice through his silence. If you do this, you will benefit both yourselves, and you will have us as friends, and you will not disappoint the hopes of those who have entrusted themselves to your fidelity. And may this be your reward for the labors undertaken for the sake of Nicobulus. But if we obtain fuller proof, we shall also return a fuller meed of praise to you. ^B

CXCIII. TO PROCOPICS

[i]Excerpts from the historical notes on the dating of this letter: written between the end of 384 and the beginning of 385. Palladius writes that Olympias, whose nuptials are here discussed, had been married scarcely twenty months when her husband passed away. Yet it is established that Nebridius, to whom she had been married, was still alive on the third day before the Kalends of July, in the consulship of Honorius and Eudoxus—that is, in 386—when the law concerning the *Edititiae* actions was issued to him. If he perhaps survived this for a short time, the nuptials of Olympias could not have been celebrated before the end of 384 or the beginning of 385. Gregory, in writing of the nuptials of Olympias—whom he calls his daughter—and speaking of them as though they had been celebrated before the start of the year, does not excuse himself to Procopius for his absence. We have already stated who this Procopius is; it suffices to add here that as a father-figure, he was the uncle and guardian of Olympias.[i]

I perceive the charge you bring against me, even though ^C you remain silent. We are celebrating a wedding, you might say, and that of your golden Olympias, and a throng of bishops was present; yet you, my noble friend, were absent, either out of disdain or weariness. Neither is true, wonderful man. But it was impossible, I think, for one who was occupied with tragedy to conduct a festival in the manner of a comedy, and at the same time it is utterly unseasonable and foreign to a wedding to see two gouty men being carried around amidst the dancers, to be mocked. For it pleases me to play with you a little in the marriage custom. Otherwise, as far as the will is concerned, I am present, I celebrate the festival with you, and I join the young people's right hands to one another, and both of them to the hand ^D of God. For it is fitting that, just as every other good thing comes to you, so too should this marriage be...

to be joined together, and both to God’s hand. For it is fitting that, just as all other good things [come] to you, so marriage also should reach its best possible end, and [be] in accordance with our common prayers.

CXCIV. TO THE SAME

^A Procopius has married off another daughter of his brother or sister, and has again provided an occasion for writing to Gregory. Although this letter was perhaps written rather late, it seemed best to place it here, because it is of the same subject as the previous one. He excuses himself again for not having been present at the wedding, and Gregory congratulates Procopius, and exhorts him to devote himself entirely to the study of heavenly things.

^B See, another son-in-law for you, and you are casting off a sweet burden, doing a praiseworthy thing. As for us, we are idle, as you yourself might say; but to speak the truth, we are weak, not idle. But whatever comes from God, turns out well for us. For we have conceded the tumults to others; but we shall enjoy philosophy, once you have been gathered to God and have become entirely of the things above, held back by no bond. And even now, we contribute to the nuptials the prayers which it was our duty to offer as the most beautiful gift.

CXCV. TO GREGORY THE PREFECT

The Theologian recommends to Gregory the prefect his sister and her children, who, after the death of their father Nicobulus, were being harassed by certain people, in this letter, which was written no earlier than the year 385; since in this year Nicobulus is found to have handed over his son to be educated by the sophists. We believe with Tillemont that he did not depart this life later than the year 385.

I do not praise Hesiod for calling those who follow the same craft rivals, and [saying] ^C And worker is jealous of worker, and potter of potter. For in my opinion, he does not so much envy as run to and embrace, and as a friend and intimate, he clings to him. And a singer is the more attached to a singer, in that their work is concerned with the voice. And in this same way I am affected toward your eloquence; if I were in such a state of body as to be able to serve the impulses of the soul, no one would have been quicker than I to run to meet you, and to embrace you, and to address you with words of welcome. But as a cloud obscures the sun, so does illness, and this jealous little body and prison, [obscure me]. Will you accept my letter in place of my presence? You will accept it, surely, as you are fair and ^D wise and skilled in affairs, better than what is translated, in reality, eloquent.

ignoscendum propensus: nor do I only conjecture this, but I am also certainly persuaded of it. And that you may understand how much I confide in your probity and kindness, behold, I offer to you a petition that is most necessary for us, and I ask for the services of friends by your friendship. I deliver my Nicobulus from my own hand to you, along with his brothers, not that he may pay a penalty, but that he may receive [what is due], and [I offer to you] the widow, prematurely ^A widowed—their mother—and a house that was once illustrious and conspicuous, while the great Nicobulus, so precious to us, was still among the living; but now [a house] not even permitted to mourn, due to the evils that have already appeared and those that are expected, unless it should be that you stand by them and, by your justice, stand against the wicked demon, and honor us, and have regard for human weakness, and make your magistracy glorious and famous for yourself through your kindness toward us.

CXCVI. TO ECEBOLIUS

Of the same subject and time as the preceding is this letter, in which Gregory commends the wife and children of Nicobulus to Ecebolius. The disease by which Gregory says he is detained is the very same one with which he was seized after the election of Eulalius. He complains of the same in epistles 107, 160, and 234.

I shall cry out somewhat against myself; and one must forgive the person in pain for saying the things that belong to one in pain. ^B O wicked and malicious flesh, with what evils do you afflict me! What do you bring about! A man was nearby, whom it was necessary to pursue even when far away, both on account of the virtue in which the governor shines and on account of his other gentle-spiritedness and leniency. But you are affected poorly and almost sluggishly, and you care nothing that, while others enjoy this blessing, we ourselves lack it. Such, then, is our accusation. But since it is not enough merely to lament what we suffer, but some remedy must also be applied to the wound, we have discovered this: to be bold enough to write this letter and to shadow forth our presence through these lines. But if you also desire and seek to deserve well of us—O man overflowing with goodness—we offer to you, with a confident heart, a house that is pitiable and worthy of mercy: a widow with orphans still hot ^C with tears—my sister, I mean, and her children, who were born of a good father, a man who labored much for emperors in arms, not ingloriously, but even most illustriously, and also served you rulers (if you indeed recall one named Nicobulus), [but] who now are in danger of suffering the most grievous things. For after the [death] of the

in many ways they have rendered service (if the name of Nicobulus has reached your ears), they are now in danger of suffering the most grievous things. For after the betrayal of friends and that oath which they underwent because of the inquiry, they are now again attempting to vex the orphans. ^A

CXCVII. TO GREGORY OF NYSSA

This is a letter of consolation to Gregory of Nyssa concerning the death of Theosebia, whose praises he recounts. He calls her the sister of Nyssen, which words gave many an occasion for error, and for thinking that she had been joined in matrimony to the Theologian. This error we refute in our discussion concerning the perpetual virginity of the Theologian. Nothing appears in the letter by which the time when it was written can be certainly determined.

As I was pressing on to you with all zeal and speed, and had already reached Euphemiada, that gathering which you yourselves celebrate in honor of the holy martyrs held me back, partly because I cannot be present at it due to illness, and partly ^B so as not to be a burden and nuisance because of my importunity. Now, for this reason I had undertaken the journey, partly that I might visit you after so long an interval; and partly that I might exalt you with wondrous praises for that endurance and philosophy which you show concerning the departure of your holy and blessed sister from this life (for so I hear), being as you are a man upright and perfect, and one standing before God, and one knowing divine and human things better than any other; and ^C because you judge as lightest that which in such circumstances is most grievous and bitter to others—namely, that you have lived with such a person, and have sent her on, and have stored her away in safe regions, like a sheaf of the threshing-floor gathered in at the proper time, to use the words of Scripture [* Job v, 26], having shared in the delights of life, yet having escaped its sorrows by the measure of her age, and before she had mourned on your account, she was honored by you with a noble funeral, and with that which is fitting for such as she. And I myself, know well, long for departure—if not as you do (for this is a great thing to say), yet certainly immediately after you. But what must one do against the law of God, long since prevailing and dominant, which holds my Theosebia (for I call her, who lived as was agreeable to the laws of God, "mine," since spiritual kinship ^D is stronger than bodily kinship)? Theosebia, the boast of the Church, the ornament of Christ, the profit of our generation, the boldness of women; Theosebia, who in such...

corpoream antecellit): Theosebiam, the ornament of the Church, the luster of Christ, the utility of our age, the confidence of women: Theosebiam, in so great a beauty of brothers, the most shapely and most illustrious; Theosebiam, ^A truly holy, and a priest's consort, and of equal honor, and worthy of the great mysteries; Theosebiam, whom future time also shall receive, laid up in immortal columns, that is, in the souls of all, both those who know her now, and those who shall be hereafter. And do not wonder if I call upon her often. For I delight also in the memory of the blessed one. This funeral oration from us to her, being in brief a long one, is also for thee a word of consolation, even though thou art able to comfort others in such matters through thy philosophy in all things. But the meeting (since we long for this too) has now been taken from us, for the ^B reason which I stated. Let us pray together for one another, as long as we are still upon the earth, and let not the common end, toward which we approach, separate us. Therefore it is necessary for us to endure all things, as those who shall neither be subject to sense, nor suffer for a longer time.

CXCVIII. TO NEMESIUS

Nemesius, to whom this and many other letters were written by the Theologian, was a man learned in doctrine and the study of the liberal arts. He was prefect of Cappadocia when the Nazianzen was heavily burdened by old age and sickness; the latter esteemed him highly and left the record of his integrity in his letters. Although Nemesius was a Gentile, nonetheless he deemed Gregory worthy of reverence and honor because of his letters, for the study and love of which both were possessed, and he fostered his old age. Desiring to return thanks for this kindness, Gregory sent to Nemesius a poem composed against the vanity of idols, so that, having been led away from error, he might bring him to the Christian religion. And it is not credible that Gregory's attempt was fruitless, since some believe that he gave his name among the catechumens; he is also considered the author of the elegant book *On the Nature of Man* under the name of Nemesius the Christian philosopher; this, however, we are certainly not permitted to affirm. He asks him, moreover, not to impose a fine upon Valentinianus, but to bring aid to his calamity.

Some praise the Samian Pythagoras with this name, ^C because when he himself was compelled to sacrifice (since he did not at all approve of sacrifices otherwise), he fulfilled the sacrifice with an ox fashioned of clay: for he denied that dead things should be expiated by the dead; for thus he called the bodies. This, excellent sir, it seems to me thou canst also beautifully imitate. And since it is forbidden for thee to impose a fine, and thou alone of the prefects, or certainly with very few, hast brought fear upon those over whom thou art placed, ^D

to the extent of declaring the penalty imposed, to contain the loss. For he does not undergo punishment for his own sloth (if one may be bold enough to say this). If, then, we persuade you as a judge, this is best; but if not, we shall take refuge in the friend, and we shall utter to your Wisdom what it is said ^A that someone wrote to his own friend: "As for so-and-so, if he has committed no wrong, acquit him for the sake of justice; but if he has committed wrong, acquit him for my sake. In any case, acquit him," considering this, among other things, that the fine of two horses would bring no great benefit to the fisc, but the favor would be recorded forever in our hearts. And let this be added: "Bring aid to the misfortune of a man who has been severely crushed by this mishap."

CXCIX. TO THE SAME

^B If I seem to you tiresome by writing frequently, do not be surprised, or I shall accuse you before yourself, the just judge, and I do not doubt that you will free me from the charge. You yourself have given me the confidence for this, by inviting me to ask through your ready generosity; and it is no wonder. For there are many things for which you might readily grant a favor: old age, illness, the sharing of studies (if indeed I am anything in letters), even this very thing—that while I marvelously desire your company, I am prevented by infirmity and cannot obtain so greatly desired a thing. But what is this petition? If it were unjust, I would blush before the face and countenance of so great a man; but if it is ^C just, readily yield and grant the request. Again, our most venerable son Theodosius comes to your Wisdom—mine, I say, and yours; mine in purpose, but your suppliant. And he comes as an envoy on behalf of a pitiful matter: orphans are in danger, and the human condition in such a case is uncertain as to how it will turn out; and we feel for the departure of their father, who lightened the orphanhood of many. Grant one favor for the sake of all. ^D

pro required for a sad and miserable case: the orphans are in peril, and, as human affairs are uncertain, it is obscure into what state the matter will meanwhile fall, and we fear lest there be a migration from the paternal soil by the father by whom the poverty of many orphans was relieved. Therefore, bestow this favor and grace upon all. Extend a hand to the calamity, which you yourself will approve. Your prefecture indeed has no need of any accession of glory, just as Lucifer has no need of splendor. But yet, if you seek some crowning addition, believe me, no greater nor more illustrious one will occur than this, that very many who are studious of the truth should be taught your probity. ^A

CC. TO THE SAME.

If this letter was not sent in the same year as the previous one, it was at any rate sent in the year immediately following. For in these letters he pursues with praises, as we saw above in the case of Olympius, Nemesius, who was departing the province towards the end of the year, and at the same time reminds him that a discussion concerning religion, which he had left begun and imperfect, is owed to him by his promise.

You were indeed turning your prefecture into a philosophy, and you will turn it again, I know, if our affairs are of any concern to God. Now, however, it would be most convenient to meet with you, since, according to your desire, you are freed from public business, and it is permitted to enjoy in tranquility your prudence and the sharpness of your wit, of which, having become participants for a short time, we were for the most part disappointed, just as with a lightning flash which cannot be held by the sharpness of the eyes. ^B But while this is a great thing to wish for, to attain it is not easy, given that our body is in the state it is in. If, therefore, we obtain this, we will have everything (for you owe us also a certain discussion concerning our religion by your promise, which you left having begun in a certain way, and imperfect). But if not, we indeed bear this loss with an unwilling mind. But you, persuade yourself of this: that in whatever place you are, you are with us; and would that, with our prayers as your guides, you may have a prosperous journey. ^C Furthermore, persuade yourself also of this: that as long as we draw breath, you will remain among us, in whom you have inscribed yourself—not in any columns inferior or more contemptible—and you will inscribe yourself even more when you have joined yourself to God and have clearly become ours, or—if it is pleasanter to speak thus—we yours.

CCI. TO THE SAME.

^D Nemesius, while departing or for some other reason, traveled not far from the solitude of Gregory and passed by his friend without seeing him. Feeling this deeply, he signified his grief in this letter.

What is this? You passed us by while we were unaware, and you could no more be caught than an echo by those who think they have it near them, and are deceived by the opposing voices? For otherwise, by this one

we have sent. But do write to us, excellent man; we shall even take that in your place—a shadow, as the saying goes, instead of the substance.

CCII. TO NECTARIUS, BISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE

This letter to Nectarius seemed of such value that it was numbered among the orations, just as were the two to Cledonius; for it is the dignity or the subject-matter, not the style, that makes an oration. Theodoret and many others praise this under the name of an epistle; Sozomen interwove almost this entire document, or at least the greatest part of it, into his History. A vast horde of heretics had settled in Constantinople and was spreading far and wide. Gregory, moved by his zeal for the Church in the face of this impending danger, seized the pen to shake Nectarius out of his lethargy; while Nectarius dozed, the vineyard he had planted—that is, the Church of Constantinople—was being trampled by the Arians, Eunomians, Macedonians, and most especially the Apollinarists. Then, to kindle more vehemently the zeal of Nectarius (whom he addresses) and of the Emperor himself, he sent the intolerable blasphemies he had copied out from an Apollinarian tract he had in his hands, so that Nectarius might recognize that the license granted to the Apollinarists, while he remained silent, must be revoked. Gregory entreats Nectarius to make all this known to the most pious Emperor. ^B It seems that with this letter to Nectarius, Gregory was the author of the law enacted against heretics in the year 388; and this is supported, among other things, by the mention of the Apollinarists at the start of the law, who were the primary object of Gregory’s complaint. Hence, it is possible to determine the time of the letter. Gregory could indeed have written it as early as the year when Eunomius was banished to Cappadocia. But since the law against the Eunomians, Apollinarists, Arians, and Macedonians was issued on the 10th day before the Kalends of September in that same year, by which they were expelled from Constantinople without any hope of grace, it is hardly credible that these same heretics, whom Gregory designated one by one, could have suddenly made such progress in audacity—or even gained the Emperor’s favor—in that very year, to the point of securing from him the right to hold their assemblies there just as the Catholics did. The facts accord more aptly with the law of the year 388, which, in almost exactly the words used by Gregory in his complaint, decrees that the followers of Apollinarius lack the authority to gather congregations in public or private churches, and that they—along with other sects of diverse heresies—do not have the power to appoint clerics, nor is any authority granted to them to ordain bishops: that they themselves, stripped of the episcopal name, should lose the dignity of this title. Since every detail corresponds to every point in Gregory’s epistle, one might say that it served as the model for the imperial Constitution. Furthermore, things written by Gregory in the years 385 and 387, in which, after the death of Demophilus, the Arians appointed Murinus and soon after Dorotheus as their bishop, agree much better with the year 388 than with the year 384. And Socrates and Sozomen truly testify that they had their own bishop during these times. Wherefore, Gothofredus says, it is altogether likely that the somewhat languid spirit of Theodosius—perhaps due to his second wife, Galla, who was an Arian, as Philostorgius relates, and whom he had taken at this very time—was now roused by the diligence of the bishops, whether it was Gregory of Nazianzus, Nectarius, or even Ascolius the bishop of Thessalonica; for the Emperor was staying in Thessalonica at that time: or rather, that their prayers and admonitions were what led to the law’s enactment. Since the law was given at the beginning of the year, it is not improbable that the letter to Nectarius was written at the end of the previous year, or even earlier.

^B The care and providence of God, which used to watch over the Churches before our time, seems to have abandoned this life entirely. And my soul is so weighed down and overwhelmed by calamities that I do not even count the private troubles of my own life among my ills—troubles which, though otherwise so grave and bitter that they would be deemed intolerable if they had befallen anyone else, I set aside to look only at the common sufferings of the Churches, which, unless some effort is made at this present time to correct them, will gradually drift into utter despair.

Those of the heresy of Arius, or rather of Eudoxius, I know not who incited them to such arrogance and audacity, but as if they had seized upon some freedom, they have handed themselves over to the disease...

^A of showing off their own malady insolently, gathering churches as if they did this by permission. The Macedonians, however, contending factiously, have broken out into such a degree of insanity that they even claim the name of bishops for themselves, and appear in these places, and lift their heads, celebrating Eleusius with their own suffrages. But truly our internal evil, Eunomius, now hardly considers it enough to exist in any number at all; he considers it a damage unless he has dragged everyone down into his own ruin and destruction. And yet these things are tolerable. But that which is the most grievous of all in these ecclesiastical calamities is the boldness of the Apollinarists, whom—I know not in what way—your holiness has permitted to have arrogated and usurped for themselves the authority to conduct assemblies, just as we do. ^B

Although, by the grace of God, you are instructed and versed in the divine mysteries, and you know not only the defense of the right doctrine, but also all those things which have been devised by the heretics against the sound and orthodox faith; nevertheless, it would by no means be untimely for your ^C reverence to be informed by our insignificance that a small book of Apollinaris has come into my hands, in which the things that are asserted surpass all heretical depravity. For he asserts that the flesh which was assumed by the only-begotten Son according to the dispensation for the restoration of our nature was by no means adventitious; but that that carnal nature was in the Son from the very beginning. And, having misinterpreted a certain evangelical saying, he puts it forward as testimony for such an absurdity, saying, "No one has ascended into heaven, but he who descended from heaven, the Son of man"; ^D as if, even before he had descended, he was the Son of man, and descending, brought with him that flesh which he happened to have in the heavens, being something pre-eternal and innate to his essence. For he brings forward again a certain apostolic saying, having torn it from the whole context: "The second man is from heaven." Then he constructs the man of that

not having the mind that came from above, but [insisting] that the divinity of the Only-Begotten filled the nature of the mind, and became the third part of the human compound, ^A while soul and body were present in him according to human nature, but the mind was not, but the divinity of the Word of God filled the place of that one. And this is not yet the most terrible thing; but that which is the most grievous of all is that he makes the Only-Begotten God himself, the judge of all, the author of life, the destroyer of death, to be mortal, and strives to prove that he suffered by his own divinity, and that in that three-day burial of the body, the divinity also died together with the body, and was thus raised again from death by the works of the Father. But as for all the other things which he adds to such absurdities, it would be a long task to recount them.

If, therefore, those who hold such views are permitted to hold assemblies, ^B let your prudent discretion in Christ consider and weigh that, since we do not agree with what they hold, for them to be given the power of holding assemblies is nothing else than for their doctrine to be considered truer than ours. For if they, as if holding pious views, are permitted to teach what they believe, and to preach their own doctrine with boldness, it is clear that the message of the Church is condemned, as if the truth were on their side. For the nature of things does not admit that two contrary doctrines ^C about the same matter can be true. How, then, has your noble and exalted mind endured not to use its customary boldness for the correction of such a great evil? But even if this has not been done before, now at least let your incomparable and perfect virtue be stirred to action, and teach the most pious emperor that there will be no benefit from his remaining zeal for the Churches if such an evil should prevail through their boldness to the destruction of the sound faith. ^D

CCIII. TO VALENTINIANUS

It is permissible to affirm that the other letters of Gregory which survive were written in the final periods of his life. But since they are completely destitute of any notation of time, and since it is not possible in such great obscurity of circumstances to assign a year to them collectively, it will be sufficient to observe this order among them, that those which seem to have been issued earlier may be placed in an earlier position, and those which are written on the same or a similar subject may be placed next to one another, so that they may afford mutual light and clarity to one another.