Letters of St. Gregory

OF OUR HOLY FATHER GREGORY THE THEOLOGIAN, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE: LETTERS.

I. TO BASIL THE COMPANION

^A I failed in my promises, I confess; for ever since our time at Athens and the friendship and natural affinity of soul—for I cannot find a more appropriate word—that grew up there, I had promised that I would share your way of life and pursue philosophy with you. I have failed in this promise, not willingly, but because one law overcame another: the law that commands us to care for our parents overcame the law of companionship and habit. Yet I will not be a total failure, provided you yourself accept this condition: namely, that we shall in part be with you, and in part you must be willing to be with us, so that our lives may be shared in common and our friendship remain equal. For thus it will come about that we shall neither grieve our parents nor fail to enjoy your company.

II. TO THE SAME

^B I cannot tolerate being taunted about Tiberina, nor the mud and winter storms of this place, O you who are entirely free of mud, [alt-version omitted]

and walking on tiptoe, and treading upon the tablets ^A, moving on wings and aloft, and wafted about with the arrow of Abaris, so that, though you are a Cappadocian, you might flee from the things of Cappadocia. Or are we doing you an injustice because you are all pale and breathe a shallow air and measure the sun, while we are fat and sleek and satiated, and are not hemmed in by the constraints of any place? But these things are yours; for you indulge in luxuries and abound in wealth and occupy yourselves in the marketplace: this I by no means approve. Therefore, either cease to reproach us with the mud (for neither did you create the city, nor we the winter), or we will in return for the mud offer you the hucksters, and all the wretched things that cities bring forth.

III. TO EVAGRIUS

It has seemed best to place this letter, which bears no mark of time, in this position; especially since Gregory could have more conveniently taught rhetoric to Evagrius, who is the subject here, in the early years of his retirement to Pontus. Having returned to his homeland, the disciple of such an excellent master, after having afforded clear proofs of his admirable education, found his father grateful to the master with gifts and letters, and received this reply. Who this Evagrius may be, whether he is the deacon Evagrius, of whom Gregory speaks many excellent and honorable things in his will, or another, we cannot determine.

It has been pleasant for me to be praised. For our son Evagrius to be held in high esteem is for us to be held in high esteem; for the virtue of children is the glory of their fathers. As for us, regarding learning, we are ourselves conscious that we have conferred perhaps nothing or little upon your son (for neither is the doctrine in us great); but we have brought to him, in place of all else and indeed the greatest thing, ^B I will not deny it, the fear of God and the persuasion to hold the present things in contempt. We have prayed and do pray for him that he may attain the best things, so that the foundations he received from us he may bring to full maturity, and that we might bear some fruit of our diligence. But to your excellence, every thanks, that you deign to remember us and to honor us with marks of friendship. Which, as they are by no means small, we have received the more gladly.

IV. TO BASIL

In this letter, you will find almost everything that is in Basil's letter xix, now xiv. With jokes and wit, Gregory pursues the tuneful birds, fishes, wild beasts, hunts, breezes, curved mountain passes, the rampart, etc., which indeed seems to be evidence that Gregory is replying in this letter to Basil's letter xix, now xiv; and this seemed to be the opinion of the most learned Tillemont. On the other hand, Gregory counters with wit so many things that [Basil] had not even touched upon in his letter to Gregory—the narrow and dangerous approaches, the rugged places, the thorns, the precipices, the noise, the lack of fish, the description so accurate of the place and everything else, that no one who had not seen it with his own eyes could have described it. Add the grand names of the monastery, the gymnasium, and the school, which, as Gregory mocks them for being imposed by Basil, it is necessary that he knew by writing or word of mouth, and indeed he clearly testifies that he knew them. Whence it is clear, if I am not mistaken, that Gregory is not replying to letter xix, now xiv, but to another: or, at any rate, that by the time he wrote this, he had visited the place, which he had come to know so thoroughly.

You may indeed attack and jeer at our situation, whether you are doing this in jest or in earnest. None of this matters; ^C

just smile, be filled with learning, ^A and enjoy our friendship. Everything that comes from you is sweet to us, whatever it may be, and however it may manifest itself. For it seems to me that you are mocking the conditions here—not that you wish to mock, but that you may draw me to yourself (if I understand your mind at all), just as those who block streams so as to divert and channel them elsewhere. Such are your ways with us always.

I, for my part, shall admire your Pontus, and the Pontic gloom, and that residence worthy of exile, and the hills hanging over your head, and the wild beasts that put your faith to the test, and the solitude beneath—or rather, that mouse-hole [dignified by] the lofty names of "retreat," "monastery," and "school"—and the thickets of wild plants, and the crown of precipitous mountains by which you are not so much crowned as hemmed in; the air, too, measured out to a precise degree, and the longed-for sun, which you behold as if through smoke, O Pontic Cimmerians! ^B You are not merely condemned to the six-month night, which is said to be the lot of some, nor do you have even a portion of life devoid of shadow; rather, your entire life is one long night, truly the shadow of death, to speak with Scripture.

I also praise that narrow and compressed way (I know not whether it leads to the kingdom or to Hades, but for your sake, may it lead to the kingdom!), and that way in the midst—what would you have me call it? Shall I misname it Eden, and the fountain divided into four sources, from which the world is watered (Ps. CXVII, 20; Gen. II, 10)? Or [shall I call it] the dry and moistureless wilderness, which some Moses will render mild, by striking the rock with a rod to bring forth a spring (Exod. XVII, 6)? ^C For in the part that avoids the rocks, it is a torrent-bed; where it avoids the torrent-beds, it is a briar-patch; where it rises above the briars, it is a crag; and the path above this is sheer and precarious, gathering the minds of wayfarers and training them toward safety.

A river roars below, this Strymon of yours, O Amphipolitan, and it is quiet; and it is more a bearer of stones than of fish, not emptying into a lake but dragged down into the depths, O you who are too grandiloquent, and an architect of new names! For it is great and terrible, ^D and louder than the psalmody of those above. The Cataracts and the Catadupi are nothing compared to this, such is the...

surpasses and overwhelms by its noise. The Cataracts and Catadupa are nothing to it: so incessantly does it roar at you day and night! And it is so harsh that it is not fordable, and yet so turbid that it cannot be drunk: it is human and kind only in this one respect, that it does not wash away your dwelling when it is stirred to fury by the torrents and storms. ^A You have what we think about these Islands of the Blessed, or rather, your blessed selves. But do not marvel at the crescent-shaped bays—which rather strangle the foundations of your mountain-slope than wall them in—nor at the tendon stretching out from the summit, which makes your life Tantalizing, nor at the flowing breezes and the exhalations of the earth that revive you when you are fainting, nor at the songbirds, which sing indeed, but only of hunger, and fly about, but only in solitude. No one ever visits you, you say, unless it be for the sake of hunting; add, I pray, that they come even to view you as dead men. These things are perhaps longer than an epistle should be, but they are certainly shorter than a comedy. If you take this jest in good part, you will do well; but if not, we shall add yet more.

V. TO THE SAME

The connection between the preceding epistle and the one that follows is so great that the latter should be considered the second part of the former rather than a separate epistle. Since he loved brief and pointed letters, and feared he might have exceeded the measure of an epistle, he had promised that he would say the rest in another, with these words: *If you take these jests in good part, you will do well; but if not, we shall add yet more.* He kept his promise, and begins epistle V, which follows immediately, with these words: *Since you take what we have written in jest in good part, come, let us add what follows.* Who at this point could doubt that both epistles were written on the same subject? Nor indeed was epistle V written except after the first retreat into Pontus with Basil. Before the year 360, and indeed towards its end, we do not believe Gregory returned from there; for which reason, for these two letters, and furthermore for nine other epistles, the year 361 must altogether be assigned.

Since you take what we have written in jest in good part, come, let us add what follows, taking our beginning from Homer:

"Now come, proceed and sing, I pray, of the interior adornment," ^C that is to say, of the hut, lacking roof and doors, the hearth devoid of fire and smoke, the walls dry-baked by the fire so that we are not assailed by drops of mud—Tantaluses, as it were, and condemned like him, thirsting in the midst of water: those meager and wretched feasts to which we were invited from Cappadocia, not to the penury of the Lotus-eaters, but as to the table of Alcinous.

new shipwrecked men and miserable. For I remember those loaves, and those scraps (for so they were named), and I shall remember them: my teeth used to struggle with the fragments, only to rise up again, as if emerging from the mire. You yourself will treat these things with greater tragedy, as you possess the sonorous voice derived from your own sufferings; had not that great and truly diligent nurse of the poor, your mother, rescued us from these things with all speed—appearing like a port to us as we were tossed by the tempest—we would long ago have ceased to be among the living, having gained no more praise than pity under the name of Pontic faith. ^B And how shall I pass over those gardens—not even worthy of the name of gardens, and lacking vegetables—and the Augean dung that was cleared from the house with which we filled them, when we were pulling the earth-laden wagon, I the gatherer and you the brilliant one, with these necks and these hands which still bear the traces of our labors? (Oh earth and sun, air and virtue!—to declaim a little in the tragic style—) not that we were to bridge the Hellespont, but that we might level a steep and precipitous place. If the mention of these things will not offend you, then certainly it will not offend us either; but if you take offense at it, how much more so from the things themselves! And we shall pass over the greater part of many other things which it was our lot to enjoy, deterred by modesty.

VI. TO THE SAME

^C The things I previously wrote concerning our stay in Pontus, I wrote in jest and not in earnest; but what I write now, I write in extreme earnest. Who will restore me to that monthly state of those former days, in which I spent my time with you in hardship? Since chosen suffering is more precious than involuntary pleasure. Who will bring back those psalmodies and vigils, and those journeys to God through prayer, and that life as it were void of matter and incorporeal? ^D Who will restore that accord and union of souls among those brothers who were being made gods and elevated by you? Who will restore that competition and sharpening of virtue, which we secured with written bounds and rules? Who will restore that diligence in the divine oracles, and the light found in them under the guidance of the Spirit? Or, to speak of lesser and more trivial things, who will restore the daily shifts and manual labors? Who will restore the hauling of wood and the quarrying of stone? Who will restore the planting and the irrigation? And who will restore the plane tree, the golden one, and more precious than that of Xerxes

or irrigations? And who [is to water] that golden plane tree, more excellent than the plane tree of Xerxes, in which sat not a king flowing with luxury, but a mourning monk, which I planted, Apollo watered—that is, your excellence—but God gave the increase, for our honor, so that a memorial of our diligent labor might be preserved among you, even as the rod of Aaron, which had budded, is said ^A and believed to have been preserved in the ark? But to wish for these things is indeed very easy, while to attain them is not equally easy. Do you, however, stand by me, and cherish my virtue with your mutual breath and work; and preserve through your prayers the benefit which we once gathered together, lest we otherwise dissolve little by little like a shadow as the day declines. For I breathe you more than the air; and I live only in this, that I am with you, whether present in person, or absent through the phantom of the mind.

VII. CAESARIUS.

^B We have blushed greatly on your account: for what does it pertain to write of the fact that we have been affected with grief, especially to one who is more persuaded of this than all other mortals? For, to say nothing of ourselves, nor of how much sadness—nay, I will even add, fear—that rumor which spreads about you has filled us, I would wish, if it were possible, that you were present for those conversations which others—as familiar and necessary [to us] as [they are] external, to whomsoever we are known, provided they are Christians—are sowing with one voice concerning you and us; not these men, nor those, but all of them in turn, since men are accustomed to philosophize more readily on the affairs of others than on their own. These words ^C were to them like some other declamation: that now a bishop's son is serving in the military, now desiring external power and glory, now is devoted to money and riches (when a common fire is kindled, and men are in danger of salvation and soul); and not rather to consider one glory, security, and wealth—which is to stand bravely and strenuously against the times, and as far as possible

and to avoid being defiled by idols? For how could he rebuke others who are committing some other sin, if he himself lacks the boldness ^A from his own hearth? 50 Hearing these things every day, and even more and harsher things than these, from some who speak out of friendship, and from others who attack us out of malice 51—how do you think those who have set their mind on serving God and who judge the only good to be the hope set before them in the coming life are affected and what state of soul they possess? I am doing everything I can to console and encourage our lord and father, who takes these words very poorly and is even laboring with weariness of life, by promising him ^B your own resolution and convincing him that you will not persist in causing us further grief. But as for our lady, our mother, if she were to discover anything regarding your situation (for up to this day we have concealed it with many devices), you should consider that she would suffer such grief that it could not be mitigated by any consolation at all, being a woman of a weak spirit, and otherwise, because of the greatness of her piety, unable to maintain moderation in matters such as these. Therefore, if you take any account of yourself or of us, think of something better and safer. For, in any case, even the means of life here are sufficient for ^C living, provided one is not overly insatiable 52 or immoderate in the desire for more. But neither do I see what time we are waiting for to secure your livelihood, now that we have let the present time slip by. But if you hold to the same opinion, and everything seems small to you in comparison to your own impulse, I have no desire to say anything else that is harsh. This much, however, I proclaim and attest: there is a necessity of one of two things: either remain a genuine ^D Christian, even if it means being assigned to the most dishonorable rank 53 and acting in a way unworthy of yourself and your hopes; or, if you desire honors, suffer harm in matters of greater importance, becoming at least a partaker of the smoke, even if not of the fire.

VIII. TO BASIL 54

I praise the preface of your letter. But what is there of yours that is not worthy of praise? And you have also been captured, just as we have been constrained, since we have been dragged into the rank of the presbyterate. Nor... [index: entries preserved]

and I am uncertain by what other word to call it—until I have explored the counsel of the Holy Spirit, perhaps it would have been better for this not to have happened. But since it has happened, it is necessary to bear it, as it seems to me, especially because of the present time, which incites many tongues of heretics against us; and so as not to put to shame either the hopes of those who have entrusted themselves to us, or our own life, and so that it not be an occasion of disgrace to our superior way of life. ^B

IX. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

"Place golden pillars for a well-built chamber," as Pindar says, and show yourself to us from the right beginning in this current concern; so that you might build a wondrous palace, showing yourself famous in it. And how will you signify this? By honoring God and divine things; for what is greater or more sublime than this for you? And how and by what will you honor them? By this one thing: by caring for those who stand before God and serve at the altar. Among these is our fellow deacon, Euthalius, whom—I know not how—those of the imperial office are attempting to enter into a higher rank, in order to impose the gold tax upon him. Let this not seem tolerable to you; and stretch out a hand both to the deacon and to all the clergy, and before the others, to us, for whom you care—or else he would suffer most dreadfully, as he would be the only one of all men in a most miserable condition if he were to enjoy none of the humanity of the times, nor the honor granted to men of the sacred order by the emperors, but instead be treated with contumely and loss, perhaps for the very reason that we are of no account. ^C You will do well indeed if you do not allow this, even if others do not desire it to be well.

X. TO CANDIDIANUS

Where now are the sophists? Why are the poets silent? What better speeches do they seek, or what more splendid—

^A A more brilliant subject? Now it was necessary for every tongue to be set in motion for your sake, both musical and harmonic, and for all lofty and piercing rhetoric to sound out; not only for this reason, that it is the most just debt of all debts to celebrate with words an excellent ruler; but also because it is most appropriate to adorn with both the one who possesses the summit of both. And had I not prematurely put an end to my speeches (for now indeed I perceive this), and had I not resolved—as one says—more quickly than more wisely, not to hold a public festival, nor to go into the midst of men to philosophize, I might perhaps have out-sounded even the Tyrrhenian trumpets (for I will say, fearing in no way the harsh stone of Momus, according to Pindar), had I not condemned the unseasonableness of my silence. But what I now experience regarding you, and what my state is, you might perhaps understand from a certain image. For I behave like the most spirited of horses—with my feet indeed, and I breathe fury from my nostrils, and I look fierce and am covered with foam; ^B yet I remain within the barrier, the law not granting me the course. What then? Since this is how it pleases you, what shall we do? Shall we cast aside our speeches altogether, and in silence admire your virtues, leaving the task of praise to others? By no means. But truly others, as each person's will or ability allows, may raise up other parts of your virtues with praises. You will surely suffice for many speeches and festivities, if each person takes a part of your praises to celebrate: some indeed the administration of public affairs, and the keenness and industry shown in them (for who is there who either finds what is to the point more ingeniously and keenly, or executes what is found with greater diligence and industry?); ^C others, the scales of justice, and how you decide controversies as if under a bright light, ^D sublime, displaying justice with sublime pomp. But your sword brings terror, as though about to strike; yet as a thing that does not strike, it is a votive offering. For you possess power, not so that you may punish those who sin, but by acting seriously [you ensure] that they do not sin at all; and because all your

^A mental faculties yield to you rather than to others, for whom [your will] stands in place of law, authority, and power. Let others admire the force of your erudition, or, if you prefer, every kind of learning, both that which belongs to the censure and judgment of what is said, and that which belongs to the faculty of speech. For you yourself are able to pass judgment on speeches, and you also possess the greater power in speaking; so that the one [judgment] resembles that golden pebble, or that Homeric plumb-line by which the equality of the horses of Eumelus is judged and weighed, while the other surpasses the winter snowstorms. For with equal praise you now act as the judge of the contest, just as you once contended yourself.

Let others praise your firmness tempered with mildness, and your sweetness which has nothing abject in it, such as are the leaps of lions. Let others praise the gold, strong and precious, together with its noble names, held in contempt and turned into headlong flight by your justice—a thing surely more sublime in hearing and belief than all others. Furthermore, let some poet, more free and loose in his craft, gather a chorus of farmers and sing a rustic song, and having harvested the mature ear of corn, let him weave a most sweet garland, and wreathe his head with ivy and grapes intertwined. These are the festive rites of agriculture, brought back to men through your beneficence. Even rocks pour forth milk, and fountains honey; and every plant, both cultivated and wild, is—as in the fictions of poets when they create a land that grants favors—full of fruits; such as is home-grown and mountain-grown alike. These things, as I said, let others speak of and fashion. ^B For everything that is one's own, not only presses, as is thought of the lyre, but is also naturally prone to delight most of all.

But I, in a special way, admire and embrace your virtues, and this I will say: namely, that you show yourself to be superior to the difficulty and annoyance of the times. For though you are a pagan in religion ^C and provide the services of the state to the present emperor, you do not serve him in the manner typical of the flatterers of the times, but in the manner of those who are friends of probity and honor, and who are endowed with a deep and lofty mind; and thus, while you abhor the servile obsequiousness of flatterers, you preserve your affection for your country, and you obtain immortal glory in a mortal affair. Moreover, this too must be placed in the number of your praises: that in so great a magnitude of empire you also attribute some reverence to friendship; and you have leisure, from so many things which you perform, not only to remember your friends, but also to honor them by letters, and to confess your longing, and to draw the absent to yourself ^D

For all these things, I pray this one thing for you, not that some further heap be added to your glory—for although authority may receive an increase, nothing can be added to virtue—but for everything, this one and greatest thing: that you may at some time betake yourself to our side and God’s, and stand with those who suffer persecution, and not with those who inflict it. For the latter is swept away by the course of time, but the former possesses immortal salvation.

XI. TO GREGORY OF NYSSA

It appears that this letter was written about the same time to Gregory, the brother of Basil, whom he sharply rebukes because, having cast aside the sacred books which he was wont to read to the people in church, he had betaken himself to the teaching of rhetoric, not without offense to the pious.

^B There is in my nature some rightness (for I may be allowed to boast of one thing out of many, even I), inasmuch as I am equally displeased with myself, when I form a bad plan, and with my friends. Since, therefore, all who live according to God, and walk by the same path of the Gospel, are bound to one another by the law of friendship and kinship, why do you not hear from us with frankness that which all are whispering? They do not praise your inglorious glory—if I too may use a phrase after your manner—nor your gradual inclination toward the worse, and that “worst of demons,” as Euripides says, ambition. For what has happened to you, O most wise man, and of what have you pronounced yourself guilty, that you have cast aside the sacred and life-giving books, which you once used to read to the people (do not be ashamed, I pray, to hear this), or have hung them up by the smoke, just like ship’s rudders and spades in the winter season, while you have taken up the salty and undrinkable ones, and have preferred to be called a rhetorician rather than a Christian? We, however, prefer the latter (Christian) rather than the former (rhetorician), and for this reason I offer the greatest thanks to God. I beseech you, my excellent friend, do not be so affected in your mind for any longer. Rather, though it be late, yet at some time return to your senses, and return to yourself, and cleanse yourself before pious men and those who are endowed with faith, and before God, and the altars, and the mysteries, from which you have removed yourself far away.

And do not put forward to me those clever and rhetorical arguments: “What then? Was I not a Christian while practicing rhetoric? Was I not pious and faithful while I was moving among the youth?”—and perhaps you may even call God to witness. Not at all, my wonderful friend; at least not to the extent that is fitting, even if we should grant some small part. But where shall we place this: that by what you now do, you offend others, who are by nature more ready for wickedness, and give them the opportunity to judge, and to suspect, and to speak the worse things regarding you? ^{C D}

who are by nature more prone to evil, and to whom you give occasion to suspect you, and in part to speak ill, from a sinistra side? In truth, they act falsely and unjustly; but why is it necessary that this occasion be provided to them? For no one lives only for himself, but also for his neighbor; nor is it sufficient to satisfy oneself, unless one satisfies others as well. Or could you, whether boxing in public, or being struck on the cheek and striking back in the theaters, or even twisting and bending your body in a shameful manner, thereafter claim that you were sober-minded? This is not the thought of a sober man. It is a sign of a light mind to accept such things. If, therefore, you were to change, I would rejoice now, as one of the Pythagorean philosophers said while mourning a companion who had fallen away; but if not, he indeed wrote: "You are dead to me," though I will not yet say this for your sake. For as the tragedian says: "Being a friend, he became an enemy, yet he is still a friend." And I shall be pained—for it is moderate to say just this—if you neither perceive for yourself what is right, which is the ^A first rank of praiseworthy men, nor follow another who gives the right advice, which is the second ^B rank. Such is my admonition. And pray, forgive me, suffering as I do on account of our friendship, and likewise inflamed on behalf of you, and of the whole priestly order, and I will add, of all Christians too. But if it is necessary also to pray with you or for you, may God bring aid to your weakness, He who brings even the dead back to life.

XII. TO NICOBULUS

Nicobulus, to whom epistle XII is written, had married Alypiana, the daughter of Gorgonia, who was the sister of our Gregory. At the beginning of this marriage, when spouses are not yet accustomed to one another, either jests or quarrels are wont to arise; you may not guess amiss that these letters were given at that time, circa the year 365: in which same year Tillemont judges that the letter to Amphilochius was given for Nicobulus, when Amphilochius had not yet bidden farewell to the forum. ^C

You mock our Alypiana as being small, and unworthy of your greatness, O you long, and immeasurable, and monstrous one, both in form and in strength. For now I have understood that the soul is measured, and virtue is weighed, and rocks are more precious than pearls, and crows are more venerable than nightingales. Do you, therefore, enjoy your size and your cubits, and show yourself in no way their inferior to those Aloadae. For you ride a horse, and you brandish a spear, and wild beasts are your concern. But for her, there is no work, nor is there need of great strength, to carry the shuttle, and to handle the distaff, and to sit at the loom. For that is the ornament of women. But if you also add this, that for the sake of prayer she is prostrate on the ground, and through vast movements of the mind she is ever ^D bent low,

with the movements of the mind; why do you here boast of your sublimity or the measurements of your body? Observe the timely silence; listen to her when she speaks; notice how unadorned she is, how ^A brave and energetic, like a man; what benefits she brings to the household, and how she loves her husband. And then you will say the saying of the Laconian: "Truly, the soul is not measured," and one ought to look at the inner man, with eyes cast away from the outer. If you consider these things in this way, you will cease to joke and to mock at her as insignificant, and you will judge your own marriage to be happy.

XIII. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

I approve that saying of Theognis, who, not praising a friendship that does not extend beyond cups and pleasures, praises instead that which shines forth in affairs, using these words: "At the mixing bowl, many declare themselves friends, But in a serious matter, the friend will be rare."

We, therefore, have not shared bowls with one another, nor have we been together much (although there should be nothing more ancient to us, both for our own sakes and because of the friendship handed down to us from our fathers), yet we ask for that benevolence which manifests itself in affairs. A contest is at hand, and indeed the greatest of all contests. For our son, Nicobulus, is involved in unexpected tumults, from those by whom no one would have thought he would have trouble and annoyances. For this reason, we ask you to be present and to bring us aid as quickly as possible, and to act as judge ^C and advocate, if you find that we are being wronged. But if, on the other hand, you should find that we are not being forestalled by the opposing party—by one who would sell that freedom for a small gain, which we know has always been witnessed to you by everyone. If not, at least [be present], so that you may not be forestalled by the adverse party, in such a way that you do not sell—for a small gain—that freedom which we know has always been attributed to you by the testimony of all.

XIV. TO CAESARIUS

Do a favor both to yourself and to us, such a favor as you will not often do, since occasions for such a favor do not often occur. Undertake the most just defense of my lords, my cousins, who are suffering sufficiently because of that estate which they purchased, which was suitable for a retreat, and able to provide them with some sustenance for their life; since, moreover, ^D and because of the society...

have met with many difficulties ^A, partly experiencing the wicked sellers, partly being despoiled and plundered by neighbors; so that it would be a gain for them, if they recovered the price they paid, along with the expenses they subsequently incurred—which are not small—to yield the possession of the estate. If, indeed, it is your desire to transfer this dispute to yourself, after you have seen to it that the contract is drawn up most beautifully and firmly, this certainly would be more agreeable and pleasant for both them and us. If not, I ask you in the second place to set yourself against the man’s diligent and wicked desire to cause harm, so that, because of their life which is removed from business, he may not prevail over them in any way—that is, so that he may not harm them while they hold the estate, nor cause them loss when they depart. I am myself flushed with shame in writing to you about these matters. Yet, since my aid is due to them, both because of our kinship and because of their manner of life (for by whom should one rather be concerned than by men of this kind? And what should one blush more to leave undone than the failure to strive to confer benefits of this sort?), I ask you, whether for your own sake, or for ours, or for theirs, or even for all these reasons combined, that you would surely earn their gratitude.

XV. TO LOLLIANUS

^B The epistle which follows, addressed to Lollianus, was written in the same year and at the same time, seeing that it deals with the same matter and on behalf of the same persons, Helladius and Eulalius, the cousins of Gregory.

You do very well that you return to us, ^C after a long interval indeed, but yet—and this is better—in such a way that your affairs are to your liking, and that you have freed us from those cares in which we were involved on your account. For we consider that all things, whether sad or joyous and pleasant, are common to us with you; for such is the nature of friendship. But since you are returning to us, "share your good fortune with your friends," to use the words of someone. And you will share it if you would be disposed to look upon my lords, my cousins, Helladius and Eulalius, as intimates in all other matters (and I say "intimates" unless you consider us as strangers, for I have nothing greater to call them), and if you would not allow them to need other patrons. Rather, show yourself to be everything to them—a good friend, ^D a helpful neighbor, a brave defender, and, not to enumerate individual things, the noble Lollianus, known for your virtue. I promise, however, that if you spend more time with them and perceive the height of their philosophy, you will yourself be their advocate before others. I so trust in your character,

and thus I have great hopes that I shall not be disappointed in you ^A with regard to the matters for which I myself have acted as an intermediary.

XVI. TO EUSEBIUS, BISHOP OF CAESAREA

^B Since I am addressing a man who neither loves a lie himself, and who surpasses all men in keenness of detecting it in another, no matter how much it may be woven into wise and intricate labyrinths; and since, moreover, trickery and artifice do not please even me (for I shall say it, even if it be somewhat unpleasant to hear), as I am constituted by nature and instructed by Scripture: for this reason I write what occurs to my mind. And I would ask you to take my boldness in good part: otherwise you would do an injury to the truth, by depriving me of my freedom of speech, and forcing me to hold within my breast the pangs of grief, like some foul and malignant malady. I do indeed rejoice in being honored by you (since I am a man, as the word of him who spoke before has said), and in being called to spiritual gatherings and assemblies. ^C But I bear it ill that an insult has been offered and is still being offered, by your piety, to my most dear brother Basil—a man whom I chose, from the beginning, as my companion in life, in studies, and in the most sublime philosophy, and whom I still hold as such; nor do I in any way repent of my judgment concerning him. For it is more modest to speak thus, lest by praising his qualities I should seem to be praising myself. But you seem to me to be doing something akin to this: honoring us while dishonoring him, just as if one were to stroke a man’s head with one hand, while striking his cheek with the other; or were to pull out the foundations of a house, while painting its walls and adorning its exterior. If, therefore, you will be persuaded by me, you will do this. And I ask that you be persuaded; for it is only just. If you ^D treat him with the respect that is proper, you will in turn be treated with respect by him. As for us, we shall follow, just as shadows follow bodies.

as being small, and more inclined to peace. For our circumstances are not in such a miserable state that, while we desire to philosophize and follow the better path in other matters, we should despise and hold for naught love, which is the head of all our doctrine; and especially toward a man who is a priest, and so distinguished, whom we recognize to be the most excellent of all whom we know in life, and word, and conduct 38. For sorrow, by which we have been affected, will not cast shadows upon the truth. The sum of our argument is love. ^B

XVII. TO THE SAME 39

I did not write in an insulting or insolent manner, as you complained regarding our letter, but rather spiritually and philosophically, and as was fitting—if this too does not grieve the most learned Gregory 40. For even if you surpass us in the rank of your dignity, you will yet grant us some measure of just freedom and boldness. And for this reason, be more kind to us. But if you judge the letter as that of a servant, and of one who does not even deserve to look you in the eye 41, then we shall even receive blows, and shall not weep. Or will this too be held against us as a crime? That is certainly a fate that befits anyone rather than your piety. For it becomes a man endowed with greatness of soul to embrace the freedom of friends rather than the flatteries of enemies. ^C

XVIII. TO THE SAME 42

I was not, in any case, of a malevolent mind toward your reverence, nor should you charge me with this. But after I had used some freedom of speech with a little boldness (by which, plainly, I might soothe and cure the sorrow conceived in my mind), I immediately yielded and submitted, and willingly bowed myself before the rule. For why should I not have done so, when I knew both you and the laws of the Spirit? But now, even if I were of a malevolent and cowardly mind, yet the time itself does not allow me to suffer from this affection, nor the wild beasts which have made an attack upon the Church, nor finally your generous and strenuous spirit, which fights for the Church so sincerely and without guile. We shall come, therefore, if it seems good, both to join our prayers with yours, and to fight alongside you, and to render service to you, and, as the boys who urge on the best combatant, to incite you with our enthusiastic cries 47.

LETTER XX. XIX. TO BASIL

The three letters preceding, and the one that follows, XIX to Basil, correspond to the year in which the Emperor Valens made his assault upon the Church of Caesarea; this is established for certain even from the letters themselves. However, there is no single opinion as to the year in which Valens made this assault. The most learned Tillemont writes that this impious incursion of Valens occurred in the year 366; Baronius dates it back to the year 364; our Prudentius Maranus to the year 365, and Gothofredus, Ammianus, Socrates, and Sozomenus favor him in this. The Bollandists differ, suggesting the year 367; while Pagi, which is absurd, assigns it to the year 370. Of these opinions, only two are defensible: the Tillemontian and the Prudentian. Choose whichever you will: with Tillemont, set the year for Valent's incursion as 366; or preferably with our Prudentius, the year 365. Furthermore, in this letter XIX, Gregory signifies to Basil that Eusebius has been softened, and urges him that, having sent his letters in advance, he should come to him; that the time demands it; that heretics are looming; and that there is a danger lest the doctrine of the truth be subverted.

^A It is a time for sound counsel and forbearance, and we must conduct ourselves such that no one appears to us to be greater in magnanimity, nor our many labors and toils destroyed in a mere moment of time. You ask, why and whence I write these things? Our bishop Eusebius, most dear to God (for so we must henceforth think and write of him), is now of a mind very friendly and well-disposed toward us for the settlement of disputes, and is being softened by time, as iron is by fire; and I think that a letter of exhortation and invitation will also come to you, as he has indicated to me, and as many who know his affairs clearly assure us. Let us be beforehand with him—either by arriving, or by sending letters—or rather, by sending letters in advance, and then arriving; so that we may not be shamed by being defeated later, when it is possible to win by being defeated well and philosophically, which is what is required of us by many. Come to me, therefore, persuaded by this, and for this reason, and because of the time; since a gathering of heretics is attacking the Church, some already present and causing trouble, others, as word has it, about to be present. ^B And there is a fear that the word of truth might be swept away if the Spirit of Bezeleel (53)—the wise architect of such words and dogmas—is not moved with all speed. And if you think that I should be present as well, to join in the discussion and the journey (54), this too we shall not avoid.

XX. TO CAESARIUS (55)

Socrates relates (56) that in the year when Valentinian and Valens were consuls for the second time (which was the year 368 of the common era), an earthquake occurred in Bithynia, and the city of Nicaea was overturned on the fifth day before the Ides of October. In that earthquake, the greatest within human memory, Caesarius, then quaestor of Bithynia, survived, protected by the ruins of the roof (57), nearly alone in his safety and health. Having seized on this occasion immediately, Gregory exhorted his brother, and indeed persuaded him, to turn himself entirely to the worship of God. This, says the Theologian (58), he indeed had in his mind and desired with the utmost zeal, just as he was persuading me through his letters, when I had seized upon this opportunity to admonish him.

^C Not even are fears useless to men of sound mind; but as I say, they are very good and salutary. For even if we pray that they do not happen, yet when they do happen, we are instructed by them. For a weary soul is near to God, as Peter says somewhere, speaking most admirably (59); and to every one who has escaped danger, there comes a greater attachment to [God] who preserves...

that we have escaped, let us be thankful. Let us not appear to be one way before God during the time of dangers, and another way after the dangers; but let us desire—whether staying at home or traveling abroad, ^B or living in private or managing public affairs (for it must be put this way, and not omitted)—to follow Him from whom we have received salvation, to join ourselves to His side, caring little for small and low, earthly things. Let us give to those who come after us a certain story, great for our glory and great for the profit of the soul; a story that itself might be a most useful lesson for many, namely, that danger is better than security, and calamity more to be desired than prosperity, if indeed, before the fears, we were bound to the world, but after the fears, we have given ourselves to God. Perhaps we seem burdensome and troublesome to you, writing to you about these matters so often, and you think our words are not an exhortation, but a display. Wherefore, enough of these words; but know, I pray, that we are eager and praying above all to reach you, that we may share in the joy of your safety and converse with you more fully about these things. But if not, then at least may we see you here as soon as possible, returned, and together with you celebrate a festival day in token of our gratitude.

XXI. TO SOPHRONIUS THE PREFECT.

Sophronius was carrying out the prefecture of the city of Constantinople in the year 369, when, in letters sent to him, Gregory commended to him his sister’s son-in-law, Nicobulus. All the other letters of Gregory to the same man proclaim the power of the prefect, to whom business and men are commended, and whose protection is implored. But the one in which some signs of a recent dignity appear should have preceded them all, as they are detected in these words: *Even if you are daily promoted to higher ranks of dignity.* For he was already a notary; when, from that dignity, he made the step to the prefecture of Constantinople.

^C Gold at one time is changed and fashioned in one way, and at another time in another, being molded into many ornaments and brought by art to many uses; yet it remains what it is, gold, and it is not the matter, but the form, that receives the change. In the same way, believing that your integrity remains the same toward your friends, even if you are daily promoted to higher ranks of dignity, we have not hesitated at all to offer this petition to you, because we did not fear your dignity more than we trusted in your character. Above all, to our venerable son Nicobulus, with whom I have all ties of relationship, both on account of our kinship and our intimacy, and, what is to be valued more than these, on account of the refinement of his character, show yourself kind. In what matters, and how much? In those matters in which he will be in need of your help, and as much as you think is fitting for the greatness of your soul. As for us, we shall repay you with that which we hold most beautiful. We possess words, and the fact that we are heralds of your virtue, even if we are far ^D below your dignity, yet as much as our capacity allows.

LETTER XXIII. TO THE SAME

At this same time, there were undoubtedly written three letters on behalf of Amphilochius, specifically in the year 369, the time when we saw Sophronius as prefect at Constantinople, and not before then. Since the Theologian makes explicit mention of his power and dignity in the letter, it was necessary to defer this one and the two twin letters until now, by which Gregory endeavors to procure the favor and patronage of the highest men for his Amphilochius, who was being harassed by calumnies—as if for the sake of money he had done something slothful and favored the guilty. Therefore, he asks Sophronius, whom he calls the glory of his country, to show himself as being equal to all for Amphilochius, adding the will to his power. ^A Just as we recognize gold and stones by sight, so too ought good and bad men to be distinguished in the same way, and no longer space of time be required for investigating their characters. For there would have been no need for me to use many words when beseeching your greatness of soul on behalf of my most honorable son, Amphilochius. Indeed, I would have sooner expected one of those things which exceed belief and are removed from human senses to happen, than that he would do or think anything ignoble for the sake of money; such is the probity attributed to him by the consensus of all, and such is the wisdom he possesses, which is beyond his years. But what is to be done? Nothing escapes envy, since even he has been touched by some measure of blame, having fallen into accusations due to his simplicity rather than to any depravity of character. ^B But let it not seem tolerable to you to look the other way while he is being dragged down by calumnies. I do not ask this of your sacred and great soul [only for his sake], but honor also your country, assist virtue, respect us who have been honored by you and through you, and become for the man in place of all others, adding the will to your power; since it is certain to me that there is nothing which does not yield to your virtue.

XXIII. TO CAESARIUS

These letters were written at the same time on behalf of Amphilochius to Caesarius, who himself had been prefect at Constantinople in the year 365, but who at that time still flourished with a certain dignity, or certainly with the glory and authority of a well-administered province. In these letters, he secretly indicates or openly mentions his priesthood and old age, indeed his gray hairs; which no one would deny is more fitting for the year 369 than for the year 365. Gregory calls Amphilochius a young man, which is indeed not to be taken absolutely, but as a young man compared to Gregory, who was older. This Caesarius, however, does not appear to have been Gregory's brother. ^C If the things we ask for are great, do not be surprised, since we ask them from one who is great, and a request ought to be measured by the one from whom it is requested. For it is just as absurd to ask for great things from a small person as it is to ask for small things from a great one. For the former is untimely, and the latter is petty-minded. I bring to you with my own hand our most honorable son, Amphilochius, a man so renowned for virtue, and [that] beyond what his age would suggest, that I myself—the old man, the priest, and your friend—would consider I had been treated very well if I possessed such an estimation among you. ^D But if, having been overcome and captured by human friendship, he did not suspect the slander, what is the wonder? For because he was not evil, he did not even suspect evil, thinking that what was needed was a correction of speech rather than a change of character. Thus he accepted to labor with him. What is there terrible in this to those of good judgment?

is, indeed, judging that a correction of speech rather than of character was appropriate for him. It happened, therefore, that he did not refuse to labor together with him. What crime is there in this before fair and honest men? Why, moreover, allow corruption to have a higher status than virtue, and do not despise our gray hairs: but rather respect our testimony, and submit the duties of human kindness to our blessings, of which perhaps there is some account before God, in whose presence we stand. ^A

XXIV. TO THEMISTIUS

Discourse is in peril: and the time is yours, if indeed you are the king of discourse. ^B Added to this is the fact that my friend Amphilochius is your friend by paternal inheritance. I will add also that he is of such a kind as neither to shame the stock of his fathers nor our friendship, unless I am a poor judge of such matters. And the greatest thing, especially for a man who is a philosopher as you aris that he has trouble and difficulties while having committed no injustice. That which is a very light thing to you, but to us on the other hand a very heavy burden, appears to be so if we seem to overlook it. I, for my part, do what I alone can do. I can act as an intercessor before those who have the power to do good. For nothing else is possible for me, situated as I am now. Do you, however, confirm ^C that which was said by your Plato, namely, that cities will not have an end of evils before philosophy is joined with power. For you are strong in both. Reach out a hand to him who is in need, both by giving reasonable advice and by assisting him. For there is nothing in which you could philosophize better than by now contending on behalf of justice. Besides, you will also be doing a kindness to us, your admirers, and if you allow me to say it, your friends.

XXV. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

We have not asked for bread from you, just as we have not asked for water from

[water] from the inhabitants of Ostracina. If we were to ask for vegetables from a man of Ozizala—of which there is a great abundance among you, but with us a great scarcity—it would be no wonder, nor contrary to custom. Refuse not, therefore, to send us many and most beautiful vegetables, or at least as many as you can (for even small things are great to the poor), since we are also about to entertain the great Basil; and ensure that you do not encounter him when hungry and indignant, just as you have experienced him philosophizing when full.

XXVI. TO THE SAME

XXVII. TO THE SAME

You joke. But I know the danger to the Ozizalenses, who labor under hunger precisely when you have cultivated most. Yet this one thing is praiseworthy in them: that even if they perish from hunger, they nevertheless smell sweet, and they obtain a splendid burial. How so? They are covered with many and various flowers.

XXVIII. TO THE SAME

When we had visited the mountainous cities, and those bordering on Pamphylia, we fished there for a sea-Glaucus in the mountains; not drawing the fish from the deep with flaxen nets, but gathering our catch through the charity of friends

snaring them. In one word, we have sent a messenger to your integrity, instructed to go to Glaucus on foot; receive him kindly with hospitality, and honor him with the vegetables, as celebrated in the Scriptures. ^A

XXIX. TO SOPHRONIUS THE GOVERNOR.

Caesarius, having been freed from the ruins of Nicaea, soon returned to his homeland, but was seized by a disease, which was shortly followed by death, at the end of the year 369, or the beginning of 370. Death did not only afflict Gregory with the most bitter grief for so dear a person, but also, to use his own words, brought upon him the most troublesome incursions of business, under the burden of which, groaning, he poured out his complaints in various poems and letters. This very letter, in which he prays, beseeches, and adjures Sophronius, the prefect of Constantinople, by friendship, by all that is dearest, by the living and the dead, and by hope itself, to restrain by his authority those who were plundering the goods of Caesarius, can serve as an example. We have delayed this letter until now, both because the one in which Gregory congratulates Sophronius on his recently acquired dignity had to be sent first, and because it does not seem to have been written immediately upon the death of Caesarius.

You see what our affairs are like, and how human matters revolve as if in a circle: now these flourish, now those, now they wither, so that neither happiness nor unhappiness, as the saying goes, remains fixed and stable for us, but both are very quickly changed and slip away; so much so that one could sooner trust in the winds ^B or in letters written on water than in the prosperity of men. This, in my opinion, happens so that, observing the inconstancy and inequality of these things, we may hasten with a more rapid course toward God and future things, and provide somewhat for ourselves as well, taking little care for shadows and dreams. But whence did this discourse flow? For I do not philosophize to mock, nor do I boast in vain.

Your Caesarius was once a man of no obscure name, nay, if fraternal love does not deceive me, of a very great and splendid one, conspicuous for his learning, superior to most in the integrity of his character, and famous and celebrated for the abundance of his friends, among the first of whom he considered you and your nobility to be, and persuaded us of the same. And such were the things of old; and you yourself will add more to these, following him with funeral honors, and, as is implanted in all by nature, bestowing something more upon the dead. But now (and do not pass over this speech with dry ^C eyes, or at least weep honestly and fittingly) he lies here lifeless, destitute of friends, deserted, miserable, gifted with a little myrrh (if even with that), and a few ^D and vile things.

and another from elsewhere, with great license, some are plundering them, while others are about to do so. Oh, the callousness! Oh, the cruelty! And there is no one to stop them—but he who is most humane grants this alone: he calls upon the laws. To speak briefly, we who were once thought fortunate have become a tragedy. Do not let these things seem endurable to you; but rather join in my sorrow, join in my indignation, and grant a favor to the dead Caesarius. Yes, by his friendship itself; yes, by your own loved ones and by your hopes—which pray make successful for yourself—show yourself a faithful and genuine friend to the departed; that you may grant this to those who are alive, and make them full of hope. Do you think we are pained because of money? The disgrace is more unbearable to us if Caesarius, who thought he had so many, should seem to have been the only one of all mortals to lack friends. ^A Such is the petition, and from such people, since our affairs are perhaps not a matter of indifference to you. As to how you will help, and by what means, and in what manner, the circumstances themselves will suggest, and your own prudence will discern.

XXX. PHILAGRIO

I do not have Caesarius—for I will say it, even if this passion is not very philosophical. I cherish the remains of Caesarius, and ^B whatever token of Caesarius I see, I embrace and kiss, and I seem to see him and be with him and converse with him. How I felt this now even in your letters! As soon as I read the first part of the letter, that sweet thing and name to me, Philagrius, all at once there came into my mind the joys of old: the cities, the studies, the table, the poverty, ^C those things of that lovely youth, which Homer speaks of, or— ^D

to use the words of Homer, whether playful or serious, the literary labors, our common teachers, the height of our hopes, and every other good thing of that age which one might enumerate: in the mere recollection of which I take the greatest pleasure. Wherefore, that we may still more converse with one another through your works, move your pen, and if you wish to do me a favor, write. For this too is certainly not of small moment to us; even though envy has snatched away what was greatest—that is, the companionship of our daily lives—troubling our affairs.

XXXI. TO THE SAME

^A There are many consolatory epistles of Gregory to Philagrius, of which this seems to be the first and to be placed before the others: for he wrote it when he first heard the news of his friend's illness; and all the more so, because there is no mention of Philagrius’ patience, examples of which are clearly commemorated in the following epistles. Furthermore, he makes it sufficiently clear that he is dejected in spirit along with his body, and is lamenting his affliction. Finally, a man who seeks out the consolations of illness from the reading of Homer and Demosthenes can appear as a novice in piety.

^B What is painful to you is certainly painful to us also. For we consider that all things between friends, as the law of friendship requires, are common, whether they be prosperous or adverse. And yet, if one must philosophize about these matters, and discuss them with you as is appropriate (which also the law of friendship itself dictates), I do not wish, nor do I think it honorable, that you—being Philagrius, a man endowed with a singular doctrine of divine things—should be affected in the same way ^C that most men are wont to be; nor that you should be cast down along with your body, and lament your affliction as though it were incurable; but rather that you should resist pain, and exert yourself even now to purify your soul, and show yourself superior to your chains; and that you should consider that illness is nothing other than a certain useful discipline, tending to this end: that, despising your body and all things that pertain to the body, and whatever is fleeting and turbulent and destined to perish, and considering them as naught, you should devote your whole self to the celestial part; and that you should not live for the present time, but for the life to come, and that you should consider this life, as Plato says, to be a meditation on death, ^D and—insofar as it is possible—that you should loosen your soul from this, whether you call it body or sepulcher, as he speaks of it. If you philosophize in this way, O most excellent man, and harbor this spirit, you will yourself derive the greatest benefit from it, and you will make us easier in our minds regarding you, and you will teach many how to philosophize in their sufferings. And furthermore, you will gain no small thing (if you care about this at all), namely,

"A child, and one’s age-mate, and lovely." "Lovely age-mate," the beautiful ones of like age. Love, if there be anything to it.

to be admired by all. As for the books you requested, I found one and sent it to you readily—I mean the Demosthenic one; but the other I have lost. I do not have the Iliad, which is what you need. ^A For do not mistrust me, thinking I only enjoy these, and consider only those things to be rightly possessed which one might himself share in, and which one might use as his own.

XXXII. TO THE SAME

It is good that you philosophize in your sufferings, and become for many a pattern of endurance in painful circumstances. ^B And just as you made excellent use of your body for every good purpose while you were in health, so also use it well now that you are in a weak state, resting, if I may so speak, not lazily. For you are philosophizing, and what they say Diogenes once said while suffering from fever and enduring mightily, you yourself also provide to be seen: a struggle between soul and body. This was fitting for my Philagrius—not to be softened, nor to be broken by sufferings, but to despise this clay; to let the body indeed suffer what belongs to it, since it will certainly dissolve either now or later by the law of nature (for it will depart, ^C either exhausted by disease or by time); but to hold the soul on high, and to be positioned with God in your reasoning, and to know that it is absurd for us to philosophize when outside of dangers, but in times of need to appear devoid of philosophy, and to belie our profession.

You have indeed traversed in your mind all things, both our own and those extraneous to us, as a man ^D learned in both, and a teacher of others; and from all of these you have collected for yourself the remedy for humanity. But that I may also philosophize with you a little, if you bid me, I do not approve of the narrow-mindedness of Aristotle, who, in defining happiness for us, progressed rightly up to a point, by declaring it to be an activity of the soul according to virtue; and by adding "in a perfect life"—and this most wisely, on account of the changeable and easily-slipping condition of our nature. But that other thing is no longer grand, but even very base, that he also adds external abundance of goods; as if, should someone happen to be a poor man, or sickly, or

of low birth, or an exile from his country, he were on that account to be kept away from blessedness. But I praise the greatness and excellence of soul of the Stoics, who say that external things provide no obstacle to blessedness, but that the good man is blessed, even if he be roasting in the bull of Phalaris. ^B

And for this reason I admire not only those among us who have risked danger for the sake of what is good, or who have borne calamity with a stout heart, but also those outside who have been like them; for example, that Anaxarchus, Epictetus, Socrates, not to mention many others. Of these, one, when his hands were being pounded in a mortar—the tyrant having so ordered it—ordered the executioners to pound the "bag" of Anaxarchus (for so he mockingly called this wretched piece of flesh), as if Anaxarchus himself were not being pounded at all—that is, the philosophical soul, which is called among us the "inner man," while the body is called the "outer man." ^C Another, when his leg was being stretched and twisted, philosophized as if it were in another’s body, and the leg seemed to be broken sooner than he felt the violence of the pain. Finally, Socrates, sentenced to death by the Athenians and dwelling, as you know, in prison, first discoursed with his disciples about the body as if it were another prison, and when he could have escaped, refused to do so; but when the hemlock was brought, he received it most gladly, as if he were not receiving a deadly draught, but inviting his friends to drink by pledging them. I would have added to these our own Job, had I not known that you are far removed—with God’s help—from his sufferings, and will continue to be. ^D

By these arguments you seem to soothe yourself, O divine and sacrosanct head, and by applying this medicine, you will both feel lighter yourself, I think, and will fill us, the heralds of your praises and your friends, with joy; for you are surely ordering yourself so that you are neither weakened by illness, nor offended—as David says—by the peace of sinners and their successful course of events in this life; but rather you are being purified (if it is right to use this word in your case) and are reckoning your infirmity to be the material of virtue.

LETTER XXXIII. TO THE SAME.

[Summary: Because some were criticizing Philagrius, who was attempting to avert the force of his illness with work, and were accusing him of being greedy or merely seeking amusement, Gregory wrote to him, not only excusing his friend's labors—provided that greed and immoderation are absent—but also expressing resentment toward those who criticize him. Having dismissed them, he exhorts Philagrius, like an eagle exploring the flight of those unskilled jackdaws, to take himself and God as his counselors, both in his pain and in those matters concerning his pain.]

^A There are some who criticize you (for I am aware of it), claiming that you are too diligent in embellishing and cultivating your only estate, and that you apply yourself zealously to work while in such a condition of body. And this is not to be wondered at, since it is easier to philosophize about others’ affairs than one's own. But as for me, if I saw you doing this beyond measure, or applying yourself to labor out of greed or with violence, I would surely have reproved you (for the truth shall be spoken), having no regard for our friendship or our common upbringing. But if, on the other hand, you labor, yet not beyond measure, and you use for a proper purpose those things in which you labor; and—what is more—a malady also accompanies you, occupying your cares and persuading you that such labors, undertaken for the sake of exercise, are beneficial to the body, then I cannot help but be vexed with those who are vexed with you, and I absolve you of blame. ^B Furthermore, I am persuaded of this: that there is no one who can reason better about matters than you—seeing that everyone uses you as a teacher and advisor, both privately and publicly, even for managing their own affairs—nor anyone more philosophical in caring for the soul. But if the preserving or restoring of the body’s health belongs to medicine alone, who is so bold and untutored as to lay down laws for you concerning these things? Therefore, let those unskilled people go—let them be jackdaws examining the flight of eagles—and do you yourself take, as your own counselor, and take God as your counselor, both concerning your pain and with regard to all that pertains to that pain; and you will not err from what is right.

XXXIV. TO THE SAME

Gregory, having often comforted Philagrius through letters, finally arrived in person at Mataza to see him while he was suffering from his illness, and he marveled at the man’s supreme patience. For when, at the request of Philagrius, he was interpreting the LXXII Psalm, the latter, as if exulting in his illness, burst forth in singular acts of thanksgiving, to the astonishment of Gregory, who in this letter testifies that he himself shudders even now in recalling his philosophy to memory. We are unable to divine in what year these things were done and written, and, almost because of the similarity of the argument, we place here the three previous letters and also two which follow.

I call to mind that meeting which we recently had together in my Mataza (for I call and consider yours what is yours), and that philosophy to which you devoted yourself then, the recollection of which even now makes me shudder. ^A I was indeed expounding to you the seventy-second Psalm (for so you commanded, and it was not right to refuse), in which David is dizzy and distressed at the wicked who prosper. Afterwards, sending his thoughts to the tribunals of the other life and to the rewards laid up for the pursuits and deeds of life, he finally ceases to be troubled, and his soul’s distress is healed. And, as much as was possible, I drew the exposition toward your own pain, arguing these things both from our own sources and from profane authors, as one speaking to a man of such great learning, and at the same time as the Spirit thus moved and as pain sharpened the mind; for nothing is more inventive than pain. And the discourse proceeded; but you, meanwhile, while I was speaking, as if excited by the stroke of some goad, and stretching your hands toward heaven, and looking as if toward the east (for you did not have the faculty of sight), began to cry out: "I thank thee, Father, Creator and Chastener of thine own men, that thou dost benefit us even against our will and reluctant, ^B and that through the external man thou cleansest the internal, and through contrary things thou leadest us to the blessed end, for reasons which thou alone knowest." And why should I recount all the things that you philosophized before us and with us, as if exulting in your disease? Thus you had me as your disciple instead of a teacher. But why did I make mention of these things? Undoubtedly so that I might cry out and preach to all through you, that those who have an internal disease are rather to be lamented by us than we by them on account of an external one, provided we have been so instructed and prepared in our souls; and furthermore, that a disease joined with wisdom is more excellent than unbridled prosperity. ^{C D}

XXXV. TO THE SAME. Philagrius exhorts Gregory, who is suffering from illness, to patience through (his own) patience.

Previously, I wrote consolatory letters to you for the sake of alleviating your pain; for you had fallen ill first. But now you seem to comfort me yourself, as I am laboring under nearly the same afflictions. For it was fitting that we, being bound to each other by the bond of friendship, should not be separated even in this matter. Or rather, you have already comforted me, by the patience you show, inducing patience in me.

[XXXVI. TO THE SAME. Gregory is tormented by illness, and gives thanks.]

I am tormented by the disease, and I rejoice; not because I am tormented, but because I am a teacher of patience to others. For since I do not possess the ability to be free from pain, I gain this much profit incidentally from the pain—that I bear it and give thanks, just as in joyful circumstances, so also in bitter ones; since I am persuaded that nothing in our lives is devoid of reason in the eyes of the Supreme Reason, even if it appears so to us.

[XXXVII. TO SOPHRONIUS.]

Regarding the prefecture of Sophronius, assigned to the year 369, and perhaps also the one immediately following, we establish this year for Gregory’s letter written on behalf of Eudoxius.

To honor one’s mother is among the holy duties. But while one man’s mother is different from another’s, there is one common mother for all: one’s fatherland. You have honored this with the splendor of your entire life; and you will honor it even now, if you are moved by our humble prayers. And what is this request? You certainly know Eudoxius the rhetorician, the most eloquent man of our entire fatherland. His son—to speak briefly—another Eudoxius in both life and learning, now comes to you through our mediation. Therefore, in order to make your own reputation still more celebrated, prove yourself favorable to the man in those things for which he may have need of your protection. For it would be shameful, since you are the common patron of the fatherland and have benefited many—I will add, are also about to benefit others—not to honor above all others him who excels all in learning and eloquence, and to honor those very words which, if for no other reason, it is right to respect for this cause: that they celebrate the praises of your virtues.

XXXVIII. TO THEMISTIUS

^A This letter was written to Themistius on behalf of Eudoxius, just like the preceding one; and it is therefore likely that both were written at the same time. Furthermore, Eudoxius, who is highly commended for his learning and eloquence, is the very same man who is a distinguished rhetorician and the son of another rhetorician of the same name, to whom, as we shall see below, the education of the younger Nicobulus and his brothers was entrusted.

The lance identifies the Spartan, the shoulder the Pelopid, and ^B his learning identifies the great Themistius. For although you excel all men in all things, I know that this is the most eminent of your qualities. This was what first united us to one another (if indeed our own attainments in literature entitle us to such a claim), and it is what has persuaded me now to approach you with confidence. And if you come to know the man for whom I am interceding, you will perhaps approve of my confidence as well. I offer to you the son of the excellent Eudoxius—this most illustrious son of ours, I say, a man highly worthy of mention, both in life and in learning, such as you will find him to be yourself, applying the stone to the line, as the proverb has it (for what rule is more just than you?); to us, however, he is most dear, no less for his virtue than for the sake of his father's friendship. ^C Therefore, as if you were to confer a benefit upon us by whatever favor you show the man, and as if you were to adorn your own learning, pray be willing to lead him forward to what lies ahead. For it is necessary that he become distinguished through his learning, and that he provide for himself a living through that same learning. What sort of person he is and in what manner he will show this, he himself will demonstrate; but your own learning and prudence will judge it.

XXXIX. TO SOPHRONIUS

It has been possible to observe, not just once, that Gregory was joined in friendship with learned men, even with those who were pagans—Themistius, Sophronius, Eudoxius, and many others. Amazonius provides a ^D singular example of this in the current letter, for whom it was sufficient to have shown Gregory a specimen of his great learning in a certain encounter, so as to win for himself the favor, friendship, and patronage of Sophronius in his studies.

I desire all things joyful and prosperous for my friends. But when I say "friends," I understand those who are upright and honorable, and who are joined to us by the bond of virtue, since we ourselves are held by some zeal for it. For this reason, when I was recently seeking within myself what greatest favor I could bestow upon our most venerable brother Amazonius—for I was exceptionally delighted by the man on account of the encounter I recently had with him—I concluded that one favor should be given to him instead of all others, namely, your friendship and protection. For he showed us in a short time a specimen of great learning, both of that which we formerly [end of page 79, continues to 80] studied when we were still only just beginning to see clearly, and of that which is being studied now in place of the former, for the sake of virtue...

the height of whose eyes we have looked. But as for us, if we have appeared to him to be anything even in respect of virtue 96, he himself may know it; at all events, we have shown in exchange the most beautiful thing we possess 97, friends to a friend; and regarding you as the first and most genuine among these, we wish you to appear to him as such as the common fatherland requires, and as our own desire and word 98 wish, promising him in place of all else your care and patronage in all matters.

XL. TO BASIL THE GREAT

Epistles which relate to the death of Eusebius of Caesarea, and the election of his successor Basil, are agreed to be assigned to the year in which Eusebius died and Basil was elected. But in what year he died and he ascended to his seat, there is not one opinion among the learned. Baronius and Bollandus determine the year; Petavius, Tillemontius, and many others, the year; Pagius, the year; whose opinion, although he brings it forward with his usual confidence, and seems to himself to demonstrate it with arguments which have hitherto been unknown, can by no means stand. For those discoveries, in which he prides himself, and which Pagius presents as having been hitherto unknown, will appear to the learned as nothing other than a new error in chronological matters. Meanwhile, it is permitted to say that the foundations which Pagius builds upon his discoveries are altogether weak; which indeed it would be very easy to show in refuting. But we supersede this labor, which would be for nothing, and we embrace the opinion which Tillemontius defends, as by far the better and mixed with firmer foundations. Therefore Eusebius died in the middle of the year, and in the same year Basil was elected. As yet the Theologian knew nothing of the death of Eusebius, bishop of Caesarea, when Basil, having sent letters to him, asked that he should come to him because he was about to die, and to receive the extreme words of the dying man. Struck by so sad a message, he shed tears, and was already preparing himself for the journey, when he sensed that the bishops were running together to Caesarea. He soon checked his foot, and having understood Basil's plan, replied that he would not go, and reproached the simplicity of a mind which had not seen that, with a friend called to such a time, he would not avoid the talk of men and suspicion of ambition. Furthermore, he was the author of the advice to Basil, that by a prudent withdrawal he himself might flee the tumult and base suspicions.

Do not be amazed if I seem to say something paradoxical, and not said before by anyone. You seem to me to have the reputation of being a man who is steadfast, and solid, and endowed with strength of mind; yet you deliberate and act in many things more simply than cautiously and circumspectly. For he who is free from vice is also accustomed to be slower to suspect vice: a certain quality of which sort has happened now also. You called us to the metropolitan city, when a consultation about a bishop had been proposed. And what a specious and, for persuading, adopted pretext you used! You feigned that you were ailing, and breathing your last, and that you longed to see us, and to speak your final words: with what intent you did this, I do not know, nor what utility our presence would bring to that matter. But I girded myself for the journey, bearing this matter with a very heavy heart. For what is more sublime to me than your life, or what more grievous than your departure? And I poured forth a fountain of tears, and I groaned, and now for the first time I felt myself affected otherwise than the reason of a philosopher might demand. Finally what of the funeral rites did I not fulfill? After I

...malice; second, if you do not think that the same things are fitting for you ^A as for us, to whom life, and doctrine, and all other things are common, being thus joined together by God from the very first age; third (for it is permitted to say this too), if you have judged that such elections belong to the pious and those possessed by the fear of God, and not to the powerful and those who are influential among the common people. And I, for these reasons, turned the prow of my ship and refused to set sail. But if it seems good to you yourself, let this also be decided and resolved: to flee the conflicts and wicked suspicions that lie in between. I will see your piety only when affairs have been settled and when the time permits; and I will reproach you then with more and heavier things.

XLI. TO THE CAESAREANS.

When the Church of Caesarea had summoned and requested Gregory, the bishop of Nazianzus, not to abandon them in the election of a bishop, the venerable old man promises in the following letter, which his son Gregory wrote in his father's name, that he would be present. He demonstrates how much importance the election of the bishop of Caesarea has, as she is the mother of all the churches of Cappadocia: he declares that no one should be preferred to Basil, and that he alone, or at any rate most of all, is suited to govern the Church in these times. He promises that he will be present if they agree; but if they prefer another, he will not be a participant in their counsel.

I am indeed a small shepherd, and the overseer of a small flock, ^B and the least among the ministers of the Spirit; yet grace is by no means narrow, nor circumscribed by places. Therefore, let the power of speaking freely be granted even to the small, especially when the discourse concerns ^C common and most important matters, and when those who are consulting have such grey hairs, which perhaps possess something more prudent and skillful than most of the common people. You are not deliberating about small or trivial matters, but about those which, whether they turn out well or ill, necessarily cause the public state—in this way or that—to be affected thereby. For our discourse is about the Church, for which Christ suffered death, and about him who shall present and reconcile her to God. For the lamp of the body, as Scripture teaches*, is the eye, not only this one which sees and is seen in a corporeal manner, but also that which ^D spiritually looks and is looked upon. But the lamp of the Church is the bishop, as you yourselves know clearly, even if we had not written it. Therefore, just as when that [the eye] is pure and whole, the body is also led rightly, but when it is impure, it is not led rightly; so too, by a similar reasoning, whatever way the overseer of the Church is, it is necessary in every case either to share in his danger or to share in his salvation. For every Church must be cared for, as...

^A a body of Christ, but most especially your own, which was from the beginning, and now is, and is considered the mother of almost all the Churches, and toward which the entire Christian republic casts its eyes, even as a circle is traced by a center, not only because of the integrity of the faith proclaimed to all from of old, but also for the grace of concord, which was clearly granted to it by divine favor. ^B Since, therefore, you have called us also to the deliberation regarding this matter, acting rightly and in accordance with the canons, but we are held back by age and sickness—if we were even able to be present ourselves, the Spirit strengthening our powers (for nothing is incredible to those who have faith), this would indeed be better for all, and pleasanter for us, that we might contribute something to you and ourselves become participants in the blessing. But if, through the weakness of the body, I am unable to be present, I certainly contribute what those who are absent are able to offer.

I am convinced that there are others also among you who are worthy of the leadership, as one would expect from such a great city, and one so governed from the beginning by such prelates; yet I can put no one before our most God-beloved son, Basil the presbyter, of all those held in honor among you—and I say this as if with God as my witness—a man purified in both life and word, and the only one of all, or at least the one most capable in both respects of standing against the whirlwind of the present age ^C and the prevailing itch of the heretics’ tongues. I write these things to the clergy, and to the monks, and to those of the senatorial and deliberative order, and to the whole populace. If, therefore, this should be agreeable, and our vote should prevail—being healthy and upright as it is, as though cast in the presence of God—I am present spiritually and will be present, or rather, I have already cast my hand in, and I rely upon the Spirit. But if something else should seem better, and this does not meet your approval, and such matters should be judged by factions and kinships, and the unruly ^D crowd should once again drag down the accuracy of the decision, then do what pleases you among yourselves, and we shall withdraw into ourselves.

LETTER XLI

XLII. TO EUSEBIUS, BISHOP OF SAMOSATA

^A Who will give me wings like a dove? Or how shall my old age be renewed, so that I might be able to pass over to your charity, and soothe the longing that I have for you, and recount the sorrows of my soul, and find through you some consolation for my afflictions? For at the falling asleep of the blessed Bishop Eusebius, no small fear has seized us, lest those who once laid snares for the ^B Church of our metropolis, and who wished to fill it with the tares of heretics, now seizing the opportunity, might tear out the piety that had been sown with much labor in the hearts of men with their own pernicious doctrines, and might rend its unity, as they have done in many Churches. And since letters have also reached us from the clergy, urging us not to be overlooked at such a time, looking around me, I remembered your charity, and the right faith, and the zeal that you always have for the Churches of God; and for this reason I have sent the beloved subdeacon Eustathius to exhort your reverence, and to implore you to add this too to all the labors and trials undertaken for the sake of the Churches, and to refresh and recreate my old age by a meeting, and to direct that celebrated piety towards the right Church, bestowing upon it with us (if indeed we might be deemed worthy to join with you in this good work), a shepherd according to the will of the Lord, able to guide His people. For we have before our eyes a man, whom you yourselves do not ignore; and if we should be deemed worthy to attain him, I know that we shall possess great boldness before God ^C and shall confer the greatest benefit upon the people who have called upon us. But...

and shall bestow the greatest favor upon the people who have called upon us. But I ask ^A again and repeatedly to put aside all delay, to be present with us, and to forestall the difficulties of winter.

XLIII. TO THE BISHOPS.

How sweet and humane you are, and endowed with singular charity! You have called us to the metropolitan city, as I suppose, to deliberate something concerning a bishop. For this I perceive you to have in mind, since you have declared to us your departure suddenly, without having announced beforehand that we needed to be present, nor for what purpose, nor at what time—as if you had decided not to honor us, or to be eager to have us as associates, but rather were intent on preventing our presence, so that you might not even fall into an unwanted encounter with us. Such, then, is your course of action, and, though insulted, we shall endure it. But what we ourselves think, we shall set forth. ^B Clearly, others will put forward others, each according to their own character or interests, as is wont to happen in such matters. We, however, can prefer no one—for it is not right—to our most honorable son, Basil our fellow-presbyter. For whom, among those we know, do we find more approved in life, or more powerful in speech, and from every side more polished in the beauty of virtue? And if his infirmity is offered as an excuse, you are not, of course, creating an athlete, but a teacher. And at the same time, herein lies his virtue, that he supports and strengthens the infirm, ^C if indeed there be such. If you accept this vote, we shall be present, and we shall assist, whether spiritually or bodily. But if the way is set upon terms, and the factions are likely to prevail against ^D

If I have added my vote to this suffrage, we shall both be present, and we shall profess ourselves your helpers in either a spiritual or a bodily way. But if the journey must be undertaken under certain conditions, and if factions and dissensions are to prevail against justice and equity, we rejoice that we are held in contempt. Let the work be yours; but pray for us.

XLIV. TO EUSEBIUS, BISHOP OF SAMOSATA

^A Whence shall I begin your praises? And by what name shall I properly call you? Shall I call you the pillar and foundation of the Church, or a luminary in the world, using the same words as the Apostle, or a crown of boasting for the surviving portion of Christians? Or a gift of God, or a bulwark of the fatherland, or a rule of faith, or an ambassador of truth, or all these together and more than these? I shall confirm these almost incredible praises by the things we see. For what rain has ever fallen upon thirsty ground as opportunely and seasonably? What water gushing from a rock has ever overflowed for those dwelling in the desert? What man has ever eaten such bread of angels? To which of his disciples, when they were perishing, did Jesus, the common Lord of all, stand by so opportunely, that he both calmed the waves and brought salvation to those in danger, as you have appeared to us who were laboring and grieving, and as if already shipwrecked? And what need is there to speak of others, of how much joy and delight you have filled the souls of the orthodox, and from how much despair you have delivered many men who had fallen into it?

^C But our mother the Church—I mean the Caesarean—now truly lays aside the garments of her widowhood at the sight of you, and assumes a robe of gladness, and will shine even more brightly when she has obtained a shepherd worthy of herself and of those who have gone before her, and worthy of your hands. For you yourself also see what the state of our affairs is, and how many miracles

your zeal has brought about, and your sweat, and your confidence before God. Old age is renewed, sickness is overcome, those pinned to their beds leap up, and the infirm are girded with strength. I imagine that our affairs, too, will turn out according to these ^A expectations. You have the father, then, both for himself and for us, as one who will place upon his entire life and revered hoary age a beautiful end: this very struggle he is undertaking for the Church. And we shall receive him back, I well know, more robust and youthful through your prayers, in which everyone, relying upon them, ought to trust for anything. But if even in this anxiety he should find his end, it is no loss for such a man and in such circumstances to meet such an end. For my part, I beseech you, forgive me if, by yielding a little to the tongues of wicked men, I should come running to you a little later, and embrace you, and myself add whatever is omitted now, by way of praise.

XLV. TO BASIL

^B After the election of Basil, no one doubted that Gregory would immediately run with joy to his friend. But it seemed better to him to write to Basil, and to signify his own joy at his ordination. He restrained, however, the desire of seeing him, both so as to consult for his friend’s reputation and also so he might not cast himself into envy and suspicions of arrogance. By these reasons he endeavors to persuade Basil not to summon him immediately.

After I learned that you had been placed upon the high throne, and that the Spirit had overcome, revealing the lamp upon the lampstand—not that it had been shining dimly before, I admit—I rejoiced. And why shouldn’t I, seeing the common body of the Church faring badly and in need of such a guiding hand? Yet I did not fly to you straightway, nor will I fly to you; and I would not wish for you to ask this of me, either. First of all, that I may guard your dignity, so that you do not appear ^C to be gathering those devoted to you out of some lack of taste or warmth of spirit, as those who slander you might say. Secondly, that I might secure for myself a stable and blameless position. When, then, will you come, you might say, and how long will you delay? Until God commands, and until the shadows of those who now beset and envy you have passed away. For I know clearly that the lepers will not resist for much longer, barring David from Jerusalem.

XLVI. TO THE SAME.

^A How could your things be paltry and vile to us, O divine and sacred head? What kind of word has escaped the barrier of your teeth? Or how did you have the courage to say this? Let me also dare to speak a little. How could your mind have conceived it, or your ink written it, or your paper received it? O studies, and Athens, and virtues, and literary toils! You make me almost a tragedian with your letters. Do you ignore us, or yourself, you who are the light of the world, the great voice and trumpet, the palace of doctrine? Are your things small to Gregory? What else, then, would anyone admire among those on earth, if not you, Gregory? There is one spring among the seasons, one sun among the stars, one heaven containing all things in its embrace, and one voice of yours triumphing over all—if indeed I am capable of judging such things, and affection does not deceive me, which I do not think it does. But if you are angry with us for this reason, that we admire and look up to you less than your virtue deserves, you must also be angry with all mankind; for no one else has admired you worthily, nor will they, except for yourself and your own grandeur of speech, if it were possible for someone to praise himself ^B and if the law of discourse allowed us to do so. But if you object that we despise you, why not first accuse us of madness? Or are you indignant because we "philosophize"? Allow me, with your kind permission, to say that this one thing is even more sublime and excellent than your doctrine and erudition.

XLVII. TO THE SAME.

(Gregorius wrote this letter when Basilius was involved in great troubles and distresses, which disturbances are none other than those which Gregory himself mentions in another discourse, now the 42nd, p. 815. For one treats of the same matter in the discourse as in the letter—namely, the division of Cappadocia and the war which, on that occasion, Anthimus and other prelates hostile to Basilius waged against him. In both, the new situation, the envy, the rivalry, and finally the grief over the election of Basilius gave rise to a shameful and ruinous war. Cappadocia was divided into two provinces in the year 370. However, the ecclesiastical division of the province did not immediately follow the civil division. For the former was instituted towards the beginning of winter; the latter, however, after Valens departed from Caesarea; that is, around the month of March in the year 372. And thus in this year the three following letters were written, XLVIII, XLIX, and L.)

I hear you are troubled by the recent novelty of affairs, ^C and that you are being harassed by a certain sophisticated curiosity of those who hold power; and indeed, it is not to be wondered at. For I was not unaware of the envy, and that many of those who surround you [are ministering to their own interests through you].

and fanning the spark of pusillanimity. But I did not fear that anything alien to a philosopher, and unworthy both of you and of us, would happen to you in these adversities and troubles. ^A Indeed, I think that now more than ever my Basil will be known, and that the philosophy which you have cultivated throughout all time will be revealed, and that you will overcome injuries and attacks, as if you were in the highest waves, remaining unmoved while others are in turmoil. If it seems good, I myself will also be there, perhaps even that I might share some counsel with you (if indeed the sea has need of water, and you of a counselor), ^B but certainly to benefit myself, and to offer myself to you as a companion in patience through the bearing of insults.

XLVIII. TO THE SAME

Will you not cease to revile us as uneducated, and boorish, and unfriendly, and not even worthy of life, because we have dared to understand and feel what we have suffered? For you could bring forward nothing else in which you have been harmed by us; nor are we conscious of having done anything unjustly toward you in any matter at all, whether small or great (and would that we were never conscious of it!), unless it be that we recognized the fraud into which we were led, albeit somewhat later than we ought, yet nevertheless we did recognize it. And we lay the blame for this matter on the episcopal throne, ^C as being that which suddenly raised you above us; and we labor under those things we are accused of, and we make1 apology to those who know clearly both our former state and our present one. For this is the most ridiculous, or rather the most pitiable, of the things we suffer, that the very same people are both treated unjustly and accused: which has now happened to us. Others accuse us of something else, whatever the will of each one may have suggested, according to their own character, or the measure of their anger against us; but the kindest of them accuse us of disdain and contempt, and that we have been cast aside after our usefulness was spent, like the most worthless utensils, and those of no value, ^D or like those supports over which arches are built, which after their erection are taken away and discarded. These people, then, we shall let be, and say whatever they may say; no one will hinder the autonomy of a tongue. And you, pay me the reward of those blessed and empty hopes which against… [index: entries preserved]

those who malign you on the grounds that you have insultingly trodden us down, appearing light and ready for such things under a pretense of honor. ^A I, however, will declare what I have in mind; and do not grow angry with me on this account. For I shall say things which I uttered even while burning with pain, not so much having boiled over with anger, nor having been struck and stunned by the outcome of events, that my reason should have withdrawn, and that I should pass over what I was saying. I will not procure weapons, nor will I learn the art of war, which I did not learn before when it seemed to be a more opportune time, when everything was arming and raging (you know the maladies of the weak), nor will I stand against the Martial Anthimus, ^B although he is a premature warrior, being himself unarmed and unversed in war, and more exposed to wounds. Rather, do you fight with him, if this is pleasing to you (for necessity often makes even the weak into warriors), or seek out those who will fight when he seizes your mules, watching the narrow ways, just as that Amalec once did, when he barred Israel from passing. But for us, grant peace in place of all other things. For what is the need to fight over sucklings ^C and birds, and those not even our own, just as if it were over souls and canons? And why deprive the metropolitan city of brilliant Sasima, and why open and expose the secret of your intention which ought to be suppressed and concealed? Therefore, behave like a man and be strong, and draw everything toward your own glory, like rivers drawing in the winter torrents, neither esteeming friendship, nor the habit of life, and familiarity, more highly than virtue and piety, nor caring at all what people’s opinion of the future might be regarding these things, but being devoted only to one spirit. ^D As for us, we shall derive this much profit from your friendship: that we shall henceforth place no trust in friends, and that we shall prefer nothing to God.

The Same

XLIX. THE SAME

^A You reproach us with sloth and inertia, because we have not occupied your Sasima, nor are we moved by the pride of the episcopate, nor—like food thrown in the midst for dogs—do we arm you against one another. But for me, inaction is the greatest action. And that you might know something of my merits, I pride myself so much upon this tranquility and leisure, that I consider myself a law of greatness of soul for all in this matter. And if all were to imitate us, the Churches would have no troubles, nor would the faith be dragged away, becoming a weapon for the private contentions of each individual.

L. THE SAME

^B How fiercely and like a young colt you leap, in your letters! And it is no wonder [to see] in your letters your desire to show off to us that glory to which you have recently been elevated, that by this means you might make yourself more impressive, just as painters do when they depict noble forms. But for me, to explain everything that the bishops have done, and [the contents of] the letter by which you are tormented, and from where we began, and whither we proceeded, and at what point we ended, seems more lengthy than the limit of a letter demands, and requires not so much a defense as a history. To explain the matter briefly, the very valiant Anthimus came to us with certain bishops, either as if to visit my father (for he was putting that forward as a pretext), or in order to accomplish what he did accomplish. And since he had attempted many things in many ways, inquiring into the parishes, the swamps of Sasima, and our ordination—sometimes gently addressing ^C [alt-version omitted]

sometimes demanding, now using threats, now expostulating, now chiding, now praising, drawing circles around himself, as if he alone were to be set before our eyes, and the new metropolis [was to be considered] greater and more excellent: "Why, I ask," I said, "do you circumscribe our city, when we also make the Church, being as it truly is the mother of Churches, and from of old?" Finally, he departed having accomplished nothing, having panted much, and having accused us of 'Basilism,' ^A just as one might accuse someone of 'Philippism.' Do we seem to you to have acted unjustly in this? I do not think so. But consider also the matter of the letter, and how it was received from those who insulted us. They forged a synodal summons to us. While I resisted and insisted that the matter was an insult, they asked, in the second place, that I would urge and request you to deliberate on these things. I undertook this, so that the former might not happen, placing the whole matter in your control—as to whether you wished to gather them, and where, and when: which was the action of a man inviting you out of honor, not out of insult. ^B Since, however, not even in this have you suffered any injury from me, recall what remains. But if you must learn it from me, I will read to you the letter of Anthimus itself, which, when he had seized upon the marshes—while we sought to forbid him and threatened him—he sent to us, tearing us apart with insults and reproaches, and as if singing a victory song over us, as [if we were] the defeated. Yet what reason is there that we should incur offense with him for your sake, and again be displeasing to you, as if favoring him? ^C These things, moreover, should have been known to you beforehand, my admirable friend; and even then you should not have treated us with insult, if for no other reason, at least because we are elders. But if you are held by an excessive desire for display and glory, and you address us from a higher perch, as a metropolitan to the inhabitants of a small city, or even as to rustics, we also have an eyebrow that we can lift against you. For this is most easy for anyone, and perhaps more equitable.

^A

LI. TO NICOBULUS

Of those who write letters (since you also ask for this), some write longer than is fitting, others much shorter. Both fall short of moderation, like archers who, when shooting at a target, aim either short or too far; for it is equally a failure in either case, even if it comes from opposite errors. The measure for letters is utility; they should not be longer than the business at hand requires, nor should they be written too briefly when there is much to be said. For what is it? Must one measure wisdom with a Persian measuring-cord or with child's cubits, and thus write so imperfectly that it is not even writing? Rather, one should imitate the shadows at midday, or lines approaching from the front, whose lengths settle down and offer themselves more than they appear to those who know them by certain extremities; and they are, if I may put it aptly, ^B conjectures of conjectures. We must avoid excess in both respects and attain moderation.

Concerning brevity ^C, these are my thoughts. Concerning clarity, this is well known: that one must avoid a pedantic style as much as possible and incline rather toward a conversational one. And, to speak briefly, that letter is the best and most beautifully written which persuades both the unlearned and the learned—the former because it is suited to the common understanding, and the latter because it surpasses the common mind—and which is recognized and understood from the very first. For it is equally inappropriate to have to solve a riddle or to interpret a letter.

The third quality of letters is grace. We shall secure this if we do not write in a manner that is entirely dry and ungracious, or unadorned, messy, and offensive, as it is called—that is, devoid of sayings, proverbs, and apophthegms, or also of jokes and riddles, with which speech is sweetened; nor should we appear to use these excessively, for the one is boorish, the other insatiable. And so much for these ^D

as those are also in woven fabrics. We shall accept figurative expressions, but only a few, and these not shameless. Antitheses, matching clauses, and balanced members we shall cast aside ^A for the sophists; or if we do take them up, we shall do so as if in play rather than in earnest. The end of our discussion is what I heard from a certain clever man regarding the eagle: when the birds were debating about kingship, and others had adorned themselves in various ways, the eagle’s most beautiful feature was that it did not think itself beautiful. This is what must be observed most of all in letters: that they possess a certain unstudied grace and approach nature as closely as possible. So much to you regarding letters, which we transmit by way of a letter; and perhaps these things are less relevant to us, for whom weightier matters are a care; but the rest you will acquire by your own study, since you have the ability, and those who are famous and celebrated in these matters will instruct you.

LII. TO THE SAME

^B Gregory sends to Nicobulus a collection of letters, which he had requested as examples of correct writing.

You seek flowers from the meadow in autumn, and you arm the aged Nestor, now demanding of me something refined and clever in speech, I who have long since abandoned every charm of oration and life. Nevertheless (for you are not imposing upon me some Eurysthian or Herculean contest, but one that is very sweet and tranquil; namely, that I collect for you my letters, as many as is possible), you finally insert this strap into your books, not as something erotic, but as something oratorical, ^C and not for exhibition and display, but rather for the use of our own fold. For one thing is the mark of one sort, whether lesser or greater; but the mark of our discourses is that they instruct in maxims and doctrines, wherever opportunity arises ^D. And just as with a well-born child, the father always appears alongside the discourse, no less than those who have sired them appear in the physical characteristics. Such, then, is our work. You

to us in return, both the writing itself, and the benefit derived from what we write. For we have no better reward to ask or to demand, nor is there any more useful to those who ask, or more becoming to him who bestows.

LIII. TO THE SAME

LIV. TO THE SAME

Laconizing ^B does not mean what you think—writing a few syllables—but writing a few words about many things. Thus, I declare Homer to be the most concise, and Antimachus the most prolix. How? By judging the length by the subject matter, and not by the letters.

LV. TO THE SAME

You flee from those who pursue you—perhaps following the laws of lovers, so that you may make yourself more precious. Come, then, and now make up to us for the loss of a long time. And if any of your affairs ^C should keep you there, you shall leave us again, so that you may be more august, again desired by us.

LVI. TO THECLA

I received your small addition of a letter as if it were a great epistle. For you are ours, and we are yours, the Spirit thus joining us together. Knowing this, pray ^D for us, and be confident concerning all things, as no one

be of great heart regarding these matters, and hold this assurance about us: that you will never find any who are more sincere in their feelings toward you, or who consider your common interests more as their own, even if neither long-standing habit and familiarity nor experience have hitherto proven this to you. But as to those things which cause distress, what else is there to write, except that I desire those who believe this is a time for supreme philosophy to remain steadfast in their sufferings, and to struggle in this way against those who cause the grief, since in any other way it is neither possible nor holy? ^A

LVII. TO THE SAME

The past year, a chill severe fell upon the country, and cut down the buds of the vines already loosed for their birth; and these, remaining barren, have rendered our vessels dry and parched. But what has induced us to depict to you the sterility of the plants in such a tragic manner? That you, too, might become, according to Solomon, a flowering vine for us and an abundant shoot; not bearing grapes, but pressing out the dew of the grapes for those who are thirsty. And who are they that are thirsty? Those who are walling in the enclosure of the congregation. I, not having enough to refresh them with mountain liquor, have fled to your right hand, laden with grapes, that you might command your springs to flow upon us with the abundance of a river. For if you do this quickly, you will heal the dry mouths of many, and you will refresh first, as much as possible, me, your Attic petitioner. ^{B C D}

LETTER LVIII. TO BASIL.

^A I have regarded you from the beginning, and do regard you even now, as my guide in life, as a master of dogma, and as everything else excellent that anyone may say; and if there is anyone else who proclaims your praises, he is entirely either with me or after me. To such a degree have I been captivated by your piety, and so sincerely and from the heart am I yours! Nor should this seem at all strange. For where there is a broader association in life, there also is a broader experience; and where the experience is more abundant, there the testimony is more perfect. And if I gather any other fruit from this life, I gather it from your friendship and companionship. I feel this way about these matters, and I wish that I might truly feel so! Yet what I write now, I write reluctantly, but I write nonetheless. And I would wish you not to be angry with me on this account; otherwise I would bear it most bitterly if I could not convince you that I am moved by benevolence toward you in speaking and writing these things.

^B Many have condemned us as being not strong in the faith, insofar as they hold our common affairs to be ours in reality. And some openly accuse us of impiety, while others accuse us of cowardice: impiety, those who persuade themselves that we do not even speak piously; cowardice, those who find fault with our reserve. But what need is there to speak of the others? I shall relate to you what recently occurred.

There was a banquet, and not a few of those who are prominent and our friends were participating in the banquet, and among them was a man who bore both the name and the garb of piety. The drinking had not yet begun, and there was talk about us, as is wont to happen at banquets, in place of some other topic being introduced. While all were extolling your virtues with the highest praises, and were even adding us, as being devoted to the same pursuits of life, and were commemorating our friendship, our time at Athens, and our harmony and conspiration of souls in all things, this so-called philosopher ^C took it as a terrible thing. "What is this, pray," he said, exclaiming in a very violent manner, "O men? How very mendacious and sycophantic you are! Let the other things of these men be praised indeed, if it pleases you; I do not object: but the greatest thing I do not concede—that it is for nothing that Basil is praised, and for nothing that Gregory is praised, the one betraying ^D

^A the faith to those with whom he converses, the other by his tolerance making himself complicit in the guilt of betrayal. Where does this come from, I said, O vain man, you who are a new Dathan and Abiron in your madness? From where do you come to us as a promulgator of dogmas? How do you make yourself a judge of such great matters? "I come," he replied, "from the solemn assembly of the martyr Eupsychius (75)—for that is how it was—and there I heard the great Basil discoursing on the divinity of the Father and the Son, most excellently and perfectly, as no one else could easily do, yet pulling the Spirit aside and distorting Him"—and he introduced a certain comparison, like those of rivers that flow past stones but hollow out the sand. "Or why is it, my admirable friend," he said, looking at me, "that you already openly declare the Spirit to be God—and he recalled a certain statement of mine, when I, discoursing on the divinity in a very crowded assembly, had interjected that well-known saying about the Holy Spirit: 'How long shall we hide the lamp under a bushel?'—while he shows the doctrine of the faith only obscurely and as it were in outline, not speaking the truth openly, but flooding the ears of his hearers more politically than piously, and by the power of his discourse veiling the double meaning (77)?"

"Because," I said, "being placed in obscurity ^C and unknown to most, so that men hardly know what I say or whether I speak at all, I philosophize without danger. But his account is of greater moment, inasmuch as his name is much more illustrious, both on account of his own virtue and the splendor of the Church. And everything that is said by him is public: and there is a great war around him, with the heretics desiring, of course, to snatch from the very mouth of Basil a naked and open declaration, so that he might be expelled from the Church—he who is almost the only spark and vital power of truth remaining, while all those living in the vicinity have been captured and subjugated—and so that the evil might strike roots in the city, and from this Church, as from a kind of bastion and bulwark, might ravage the whole world. It is better, therefore, that a certain economy should have been applied to the truth, with us yielding somewhat to the time, as to a cloud, than that it should be crushed by the manifest nature of the preaching. For as for us, there is no harm in this, as long as others understand from our words that the Spirit is God (for the truth resides in the mind rather than in the sound); but to the ^D Church it is a great damage (80) that the truth should be hunted down by one man."

EPISTOLA LIX.

...and we shall acknowledge, if it can be certainly gathered from other terms, that the Holy Spirit is God (for truth is situated not so much in the sound of words as in the mind and meaning); but the Church will receive a grave wound if, for the sake of the ejection of one man, the truth is cast down. ^B

53. Those who were present did not accept this economy, as if it were vain and foolish and mocking them; nay, they even attacked us with clamors, as though we were consulting for our own cowardice rather than for orthodox doctrine. For it is far better to protect and preserve our own people through the truth than to weaken them by this sort of economy—and not gain the others in the meantime. To set forth in detail the things I said and heard, and how greatly and beyond measure and my own habit I was indignant against those who were striving in opposition, would be long now, and perhaps not necessary. But to make an end of my speech, I sent them away in this manner. Do you, however, O divine and sacred head, teach us how far we must advance in the discussion of the divinity of the Holy Spirit, and what terms we ought to use, and how far one must employ economy, so that we may have these things ready against those who contradict us. For if I were now to ask to be taught this by you, when I have the most exact knowledge of you and your affairs of all mortals, and have often both given and received assurance concerning these matters, I would truly be the most foolish and miserable of all men. ^C

LIX. TO THE SAME.

When Basil had replied to Gregory's letters in such a way that he seemed to be somewhat offended by them, Gregory wrote back, and frankly opening his mind, complains that Basil is grieving without cause, and at the same time promises both to be present and to contend for him.

This was something which another person, endowed with greater keenness of wit, might perhaps have suspected; but I, such as I am in my folly and rusticity, did not fear when writing to you. My letters have caused you grief—not rightly, nor deservedly, in my opinion, but even quite needlessly. And although you did not acknowledge this grief, yet you did not hide it, even if you did so wisely, covering the face of your grief with shame as if with a certain mask. ^D If this was done by me with a deceitful and malevolent mind, that grief of yours will harm me no more than the truth itself; but if it was done with a simple mind and with the benevolence I am accustomed to, I shall accuse, not your state of mind, but my own sins. Although it would have been better to remedy these troubles than to be angry at those who brought counsel. But you, as for what

to perform, you yourself shall see, since you can easily persuade others to do the same. This, however, you must know: that I, with God’s help, will readily stand by you, and at the same time will struggle alongside you, and will apply my manly effort. For who would refuse, or rather, who would not be of great and confident heart, being about to argue and contend concerning the truth with you as leader and companion? ^A

LX. TO THE SAME

Gregory had promised Basil that he would stand by him, and that he would struggle with him as his leader and companion. Yet his mother, who was suffering from illness, was an impediment to his fulfilling his promises. The Bollandists refer this letter to the year 364; or Papebroch to the following year; Tillemont to the year ending in the same. The matter is not of such importance that it should be a subject of dispute. Let everyone embrace whichever opinion they wish; so far as we are concerned, it is permitted.

That what you command may be fulfilled, it is partly in our power, but partly—and indeed, as I think, most importantly—in your piety. In us, there is desire and readiness of mind; for ^B we have at no other time avoided meeting you, but we always pursue it, and now we desire it even more eagerly. In your holiness, however, lies the better arrangement of our affairs. For we are sitting by our lady mother, who has for a long time now been suffering from a grave illness. And if we are not to leave her in a doubtful and critical state, we shall, believe me, by no means lack your presence. Let this only be your concern: that by your prayers you may bring aid to her for her health, and to us for our journey. ^C

LXI. TO AERIUS AND ALYPIUS

The letter to Aerius and Alypius can be referred to the year 372 or 373, or even a little later. For although it is not permitted to state with certainty in what year it was written, it is nevertheless certain that it was written at the time when Gregory was administering the Church of Nazianzus together with his father. For here he defends the rights of this Church with pastoral authority. He admonishes and urges Aerius and Alypius to comply with the final will of their mother and to pay over that money which she had left to the Church for the sustenance of the poor. Alypius, if he is the same person who was afterwards prefect of Cappadocia and who deserved to be called by Gregory the common patron of philosophers and the guardian of orphans, seems to have obeyed the monitor.

Just as it is just and pious for those who truly love their children to consecrate to God the firstfruits of the threshing floor and the winepress, and of their children, since it is from Him that both we ourselves and all that we have exist; so too, with a new inheritance, it is right that the portion offered promptly and willingly should secure the safety of the greater part. Do not, therefore, let it come to pass that you are kind to us after all others; but show yourselves kind, before all others, to God, through whom you are kind to all; and having cast aside external laws, serve our own, offering this of yourselves, namely, readiness of mind and alacrity. For the things left/ ^D by testament we shall have from others, but the alacrity we shall have from you; to whom God can repay much more than what you are now about to give, not only in this fleeting and transitory life, but also in the stable and eternal one; toward whom alone it is safe to look, and in whom to have all our hopes fixed. Accordingly, as God will be so disposed toward you, as you yourselves shall be toward the poor, do not do so with a small-minded or niggardly spirit, but rather

^A perform the wish of the departed with the greatest promptness and eagerness—you who, believing that she is present with you and watching what is being done, have brought her peace through your dispensation—so that you may not only possess her wealth, but also secure the blessing of a mother that upholds the houses of children. Consider this: that "a small portion with justice," as it is written, is better than a larger one with pettiness (to say nothing blasphemous), and consider that many have even suffered whole houses to be alienated for the sake of the churches, while others have surrendered their entire abundance from their own hands, and have made the most excellent of transactions, becoming poor for the sake of the wealth that is there. Do not, therefore, sow sparingly, so that you may reap bountifully, but grant this as a good inheritance both for yourselves and for your dearest ones, withholding nothing of what was written, but bestowing it all upon us with joy and cheerfulness, or rather restoring it as things belonging to God, as you will gain only this: whatever you spend for the sake of your own souls. For what need is there to store up treasures for robbers and thieves and for the changes of the times, which shift and toss unstable wealth from one person to another, instead of depositing it in safe storehouses, and in those that are stronger than any who would plot against them? As for frugality, ^B show it in other matters and toward other people (for I pray that you may be powerful and kind-hearted); but as for us, strive to run the good race, which will conquer others through piety and through the blessings owed by God to those who are grateful. Convince us, therefore, that you are Christians in sincerity; or rather, having begun from a good, pious, and just beginning, be in agreement from this point on in other matters as well, so that you yourselves may rejoice together, and we may rejoice in you, as you become in all other things, and especially in this, a shining example of gratitude to the whole Church.

LXI. To Aerius and Alypius

LXII. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

Since the year 373, Eustathius of Sebaste had moved his campaign so openly that no hope of seeking peace shone forth. Yet that old trickster, most unworthy of the friendship of Basil, sought out Amphilochius as a peacemaker—he who later became bishop of Iconium; for Tillemont says he was not yet [bishop]. Amphilochius wished to recommend the Theologian [Gregory] by letters sent to him. To him Gregory replied in epistle LXII, stating that what he requested was Christian; but that the Armenian, by which name he calls Eustathius, was clearly unworthy. Hence you may rightly conjecture that this epistle was written before the frauds and evil dogmas of Eustathius, having at last been recognized by everyone, had rendered him infamous to all good men.

It is not a barbaric edict of your inimitable goodness, but Greek, or rather Christian. But the Armenian, of whom you boast, is clearly a barbarian, and far removed from our praise and glory.

LXIII. TO AMPHILOCHIUS

Amphilochius, to whom this epistle was written, is not the one who was created bishop of the Church of Iconium; for that most holy prelate never took a wife nor had children, both of which these letters attribute to the Amphilochius to whom they were sent. Therefore you may rightly conjecture that the Theologian wrote these letters to the homonymous father of the bishop of Iconium, so that he might console him, sorrowful on account of his son’s elevation to the episcopacy, although Gregory himself at that very same time, having lost his own parent, was in need of consolation. Yet Gregory wrote these letters not so much for the consolation of Amphilochius’ father, as for his own defense; and they might appear censorious rather than consolatory. For Gregory sharply censures Amphilochius, who complained that his son had been betrayed, refutes the father's complaints, and shows them to be unjust. Concerning the time when this epistle was written, there can be no difficulty, since it was written in the year in which Amphilochius was placed over the Iconian Church, and in which the Nazianzen Church was deprived of its pastor, the father of Gregory the Theologian: and thus it is certain that it was written in the year 374. ^B

Do you grieve? But I am truly in delights. Do you pour forth tears? But I, as you see, am keeping a feast, and I glory in present circumstances, and exult. Does your son cast you into sorrow because he is seized on account of his virtue, and is attracted by honor? And do you place this in the stead of calamity, unless he be present to you, and care for your old age, and, according to his custom, perform those things which are consistent with his duty? But I am not tormented by the father who has begun his final pilgrimage from us, from which he will no longer return to us, ^C nor be seen by us: yet we do not accuse you, nor do we demand the owed consolation; for it is known to us that one’s own evils do not provide space for the mind to apply itself to the evils of others; for no one is so devoted to friendship and so philosophic as to be placed above the perturbations of the soul, and to attempt to console another, when he himself is in need of consolation. But you add blow to blow, while you accuse us, as I hear, and think that your son, but our brother, has been neglected by us, or even, which is far more serious, has been betrayed; and that we do not recognize the loss, which all indeed, both friends and relatives, have suffered, but I more than all, ^D who set my hopes of life in him, and regarding him as my only support, my only good counselor, and my only companion in piety. And yet, to whom do you compare this? If indeed to...

...even before, consider ^A that I also traveled as far as you on purpose, agitated by the rumor, and I was eager to share in your counsel when there was still time to deliberate about these matters; yet you shared with me everything rather than this, whether out of the same perplexity or because, I know not what, you desired. But if you were kept from meeting with me again by these latest [troubles],—chiefly because the grief did not permit it, and the honor and piety owed to my father, for which I could hold nothing more precious, and this when the grief was recent, at a time when it was not only ^B impious, but not even entirely proper to philosophize out of season, and beyond what is human; furthermore, we considered ourselves to have been anticipated and occupied by the events, as the end of matters concerning him had already arrived, such as seemed best to Him who governs our affairs. These things, then, are as they are. But now, dismiss for us that grief—which, as I persuade myself, is most irrational of all—and if something else seems more true to you, set it forth, so that you do not afflict both us in our turn and yourself with sadness and do a thing highly unworthy of your nobility, by blaming us in place of others, we who have done no wrong, but who—if one must tell the truth—have endured the same tyranny from our common friends, whom you alone thought to be well-deserving toward you.

LXIV. TO EUSEBIIUS, BISHOP OF SAMOSATA

^C In the year 374, Eusebius of Samosata, famous for his highest merits in behalf of the Church, was banished to Thrace by Valens; and as this most holy confessor was traveling there, he passed through Cappadocia, and Basil obtained an embrace with him. But this same happiness did not befall Gregory of Nazianzus; for he was so ailing that he could not even look out from his house. Therefore, since on account of his illness it was not permitted for him to see the holy Eusebius, after he had arrived at the place of exile, he wrote this letter to him, in which he signified his grief and asked that what he could not obtain for the salvation of his soul from his meeting, he might obtain for him through his prayers to God. For the Theologian persuaded himself that the prayers of a man proven by persecutions for the Gospel were no less availing before God than the patronage of any of the holy martyrs. Moreover, this letter was written after the Pascha of the year 374.

At the time when your devoutness was passing through our country, I was not able even to look out from my bedchamber, ^D living in a state of extreme infirmity. Yet it was not so much the disease, however dangerous it might otherwise be, that grieved me, as the fact that I was deprived of your auspicious and sacrosanct meeting. For I possess such a longing to see your honorable countenance as is natural for one who needs the healing of spiritual wounds, and hopes to obtain this from your excellence. And even if this is to be ascribed to my sins...

is that it was not possible for me to meet with you at that time, your goodness can now still bring some remedy to my troubles. For if you would deign to make mention of me in your prayers, which are most acceptable to God, this will be for me a provision of every divine blessing, both in this my life and in the age to come. For I am convinced that to have such a man as you—one who has laboured so greatly for the faith of the Gospel, has endured such significant persecutions, and is thus preparing for himself such boldness before the most just God ^A through the endurance of tribulations—as a patron for us through your prayers, has as much power as if it were granted to me by one of the holy martyrs. Wherefore I beseech you, be mindful without ceasing of your Gregory in those prayers in which I hope that I am worthy of your remembrance.

LXV. TO THE SAME

^B Eusebius wrote back to Gregory and informed him about his own affairs. Wherefore, when Eupraxius shortly thereafter was passing through Cappadocia and was on his way to Eusebius, Gregory did not let slip this opportunity for writing and offering thanks. This letter, which stands as 166 (or elsewhere 25) among the Basilian epistles, and as 30 among the Gregorian, is to be adjudged not to Basil, but to Gregory. This is admitted by the author of the latest edition of Basil's epistles.

Although the venerable brother ^C of ours, Eupraxius, has always been dear to me, and among my sincere friends, he has appeared even dearer and more sincere on account of his affection towards you; for he, too, has now hastened to your piety, so that I may speak with David, "like a deer" [note: Ps. XLI, 2] refreshing its great and intolerable thirst with sweet and clear water through the endurance of tribulations: and may you be his patron, as well as ours. And blessed is he who has been held worthy of your custom and congress; but more blessed is he who, having accepted calamities for Christ's sake, and having spent his labours for the sake of the truth, has placed upon them such a crown, to which few of those who fear God have attained. For you did not show a virtue untested, nor did you navigate correctly ^D and steer the souls of others only in a time of calm; but in the

you have governed, but you shone forth in the midst of the difficulties of the temptations ^A, and you have become higher than your persecutors by nobly migrating from your native land. And others truly have their ancestral soil, but we have the city above; others have perhaps our throne, but we have Christ. O what a transaction! What things we have left behind, and what we have received in exchange! We have passed through fire and water, but I trust that we shall also come out into a place of refreshment. For God will not abandon us to the end, nor will he overlook the right word being persecuted; but according to the multitude of our sorrows, his consolations will gladden us. This, therefore, we both believe and pray for. But you, I ask, pray for our lowliness. And as often as the occasion arises, do not hesitate to bless us by letters, and to make us more cheerful by informing us of your own affairs, as you have deigned to do even now. ^B

LXVI. TO THE SAME.

(This letter is found among both the Basilian and the Gregorian [correspondence], and it suits both so well that one is almost inclined to call them the common letters of both. Tillemont, while attributing the previous letter to Gregory, whose style it seems to smell of, attributes this one to Basil, thinking that the excuse which the author of the letter uses for not setting out to Eusebius—that he might take from him an example of patience in calamities—is better suited to him; for he says that he is held back by troubles and business. But why troubles should have been wanting to Gregory, I do not see, says our Prudentius Maranus. Certainly, business could not have been lacking in governing the Nazianzen Church after the death of his father. Both have the strongest love and admiration for Eusebius. But all the handwritten codices, except for one Coislinian, bear the name of Gregory. Whatever the case may be regarding the author—whether it be Basil or Gregory—since the letter indicates that the exile of Eusebius is recent, it must have been written at the end of the year and the beginning of the next.)

And when you write, and when you are mindful of us, you gladden us; and, what is greater than this, you bless us in your letters. But we, if we had been worthy of ^C your sufferings, and of the struggle undertaken for Christ and through Christ, would have attained this: that having even reached you, we might embrace your piety, and receive a pattern of endurance in sufferings. But since we are found unworthy of this, being vexed by many tribulations and occupations, we do what is the second best: we greet your perfection, and we ask— ^D

we salute your integrity and perfection, and we entreat and beseech you not to weary of remembering us. For your letters, when we are gifted with them by you, are not merely of use to us, but are also for us a source of boasting and an ornament before many: namely, that we, in some place and number, possess a place in the thoughts of a man endowed with such great virtue, and possessing such great intimacy with God that he is able to reconcile and attach others to God, both by word and by example. ^A

LXVII. TO JULIAN

At the time when the Theologian was administering the Church of Nazianzus, he wrote this epistle to Julian the prefect; not, indeed, before the year 374, in which the bishop of Nazianzus died, and upon whose death our Gregory reluctantly undertook the direction of his church, nor later than the year 375, since in this year, having cast off the government of the Church, he retired to Seleucia. He requests Julian, who that year was prefect for the equalizing of taxes, to exempt his clerics from these tributes.

Many claims of friendship exist between us, and if nothing else, the letters themselves, than which nothing is more venerable among many, nor which possess greater power for conciliating love: but of offense and enmity there is no cause, nor may there ever be. For those things on account of which you are of an angry mind toward my brother Nicobulus, or are affected by that grief from him, pertain to me no more than things that happen among the Indians: with this one exception, that nothing of the things which have transpired is approved by me. Wherefore do not impute these things to me, nor on account of them form some worse counsel regarding yourself: but rather, in actual fact, fulfill that kindness which you promised to the poor. ^B Nay, also free from the payment of tribute the clerics of mine whom I asked of you: considering this with yourself, that it is a thing exceedingly absurd that others should consecrate their entire substance to God, but that you should not wish to be kind even for nothing: and that for other cities all those who seek the sanctuary are granted [exemption], but for us not even those whose custom we use, and who minister to us, and this from you, with whom we have the highest intimacy, and to whom we shall perhaps be in no way a disgrace. It was fitting for ^C these things to be written to you by us. But it was not possible to meet with you, because sickness compelled me to set out toward the city of Tyana, so that, while time permits, I might be healed. And I would wish you to pardon this. But instead of us, you have God present, and bringing aid to the poor, who is much more august and venerable than our presence. ^D

LETTER LXX

LXVIII. To the Same

Gregory’s letters were most welcome to Julian, and he invited him to associate himself with him in the assessment of taxes. Pleading ill health, Gregory gave Julian this counsel, which would that all those in charge of taxes would always keep before their eyes: namely, that if anything was previously improperly established, he should correct it, and take as his colleagues in the business those whom he knows to excel in prudence and character.

^A You have invited us to your dwelling, and you do well, in that you would have us as partners in your consideration of the tax assessment; for it is a matter of no small concern. As for me, if I were enjoying good health, I would certainly have come with great readiness; and I shall come, whenever it is possible, God willing. But for now, I make up for my presence through this letter. I know that you were born of holy parents, and have long since grown up with the fear of God. Therefore, you will naturally do what you know to be to your advantage, and to your good reputation, and to the security of your soul, even if we ourselves did not write. ^B But if there is anything that we ought to contribute, we would have you know that this duty now set before you serves, in place of any other way of life, as an offering that Christian souls bring to God. And you will be heaping up great treasures for yourself if you attend to public affairs, and if you correct whatever has previously been set up badly. Furthermore, it will be of the greatest importance for security (which is also the first thing you must take care of) to select as your colleagues in the business those whom you know to excel the rest in both wisdom and character. For what does it profit for the helmsman to be good, if he employs bad rowers?

LXIX. To the Same

Having obtained his wish, Gregory returned thanks to Julian in this briefer letter, which we have decided to place in the final position.

I have the promise, and I trust in your character, on account of which I also have the gift; ^C and indeed that Great Deliverer from debts is the one who best knows the measure of both the taxes and the exemptions. But if it is also within our power to settle such matters, the sacrifice comes from us, and the kindness from you. Let us share the repayment.

LXX. To Eutropius

Eutropius, whom Henri de Valois considered to be the author of the *Breviarium of Roman History*, held the dignity of proconsul of Asia, as Marcellinus is the authority (75); and Valois says that this is not obscurely signified in these words of Epistola LXXI: "You have honored many, when the highest throne was still envied."

...expositum teneres, atque in Asia obviam tibi factus fuissem, si memoria tenes, etc. From these and the following points, we learn that, while Eutropius was administering that province, Gregory went to Asia, whom the proconsul received with a very joyful heart and urged to write to him. This he did not do immediately. Afterwards Eutropius, as one aware of the faction of Theodorus, although falsely accused, nevertheless fell from his position. For then, in the places where Gregory was staying, while that most distinguished man was living in private, he sought Gregory's meeting through letters. But since Gregory was hindered by illness from meeting him, he gave these letters to him.

What is this? Is that great Eutropius among our people? ^A We indeed hear of it, but we do not enjoy it. And what else was that Tantalus, when he was being consumed by thirst in the midst of fountains? You, indeed, seek our meeting, as you write; and you do well. For even being what you are, you ought not to despise friends, but also, as a side-task of your journey, to treat us well, and this [while] honoring [us] after [your] term of office, just as you thought we ought to be honored when you held the magistracy. But as for me—how do you think I am disposed, and what sort of soul do you think I have, desiring [our meeting] no less, or perhaps even more, as is likely (for that which holds greater veneration is also more eagerly sought)—when I am bound, as if by certain shackles, by infirmity? Be to me an Egyptian medicine, whether this was a speech or some other thing, with which Homer heals souls laboring under sorrow. And by what method will you be this? First, by pardoning; for kindness is ready to pardon. Then, by instructing us, from whatever you may write. Since we were accustomed to admire you as a ruler of virtue ^B rather than [a ruler] of power.

LXXI. TO THE SAME

The following letter shortly followed the previous one, in which Gregory rejoices at having received letters from Eutropius and wishes him a lofty throne. Which indeed came to pass, in such a way that it might appear a prophecy rather than a wish of Gregory. For it is known from the Theodosian Code that Eutropius was praetorian prefect in the years 380 and 381.

Let another praise some other part of your virtues (you will surely suffice for many tongues, if you are divided into parts); but I, what I have most admired, this I will say. Such is your abundance of probity and learning that, for this reason alone, you receive certain men into friendship, because they are judged to be such [as deserve it]. For before all those whom, when they were such, you honored while you still held the most sublime throne—which was still exposed to envy—and I had met you in Asia, if you remember (and I have no doubt that you remember, since you, being of such a stature, and also [with regard to] friendly matters, [together] with that perfection in all things), you saw other things as most pleasant, and you commanded [me] to write, honoring your own orations. And not only that, but you also ^C anticipated [the request] by writing first.

imitating the good among painters, if by demonstrating ^A they instruct their pupils in many things. This, then, you have now done, and you do well. And for the future, do not hesitate to grant this, even if the thrones should raise you high again (for they will carry your rank, not your virtue; nor do you have anything by which you might be elevated in regard to the latter, having reached the very summit). But even while performing public duties, do not neglect your friends, in the manner of the Homeric youths, who in the midst of war performed the duties of friendship. Since your Homer also adorns his poetry with this.

LXXII. TO GREGORY OF NYSSA

^BHeretics, relying on the authority of Demosthenes the Vicar of Pontus, wage war against Gregory of Nyssa. This is the same Demosthenes who, having committed a barbarism in his speech while rebuking someone before Valens, received the smiling reply from Basil: "We have even seen an illiterate Demosthenes." He convened two councils of heretics, one at Ancyra in the middle of the winter of the year 375 against Gregory of Nyssa, and another at Nyssa, in which Gregory was deposed. To these events belong the three following letters.

Do not be overly bitten by troublesome things. For if we are less pained by them, they are less painful. It is no grave matter that the heretics have revived and, relying on the mildness of spring, have crept out of their lairs, as you yourself write. They will hiss a little, I know well, and then they will crawl away, attacked both by the truth and by time; and all the more so, the more we entrust the whole matter to God.

LXXIII. TO THE SAME

^CRegarding what you have written, my view is this: I do not bear it ill to be despised, and I rejoice to be honored. The former is what we are worthy of; the latter belongs to your own sense of honor. Pray for us. Forgive my brevity. For truly, even if these things are small, they are certainly longer than silence.

LXXIV. TO THE SAME

Full of great hope, he wishes him well, and confesses that he is held by a great desire to see him, or at least to embrace him through letters.

Although I remain at home, I depart with you through charity; for love makes all that is ours common. And I have many hopes, relying on the philanthropy of God and your prayers, that everything will turn out well for you according to [God's] will, and every...

relying on your prayers, I have great hope that all things will turn out for you according to your heart's desire, and that the storm will be resolved into a calm, and that God will grant you this reward for your orthodox opinion—namely, that you will overcome those who are harassing you. ^A Most of all, I would wish to see you quickly and enjoy your company, exactly as we desire. But if, because business demands it, you should prolong your stay, do not be chagrined to delight us at least with letters, by which we may be made more certain of the state of your affairs, and pray as usual for us. May the good God grant that you be healthy, strong, and in all things joyful and eager, O common pillar of the Church.

LXXV. TO VITALIANUS

Vitalianus, to whom Gregory wrote this letter, seems to be the same person to whom the poem of the Theologian is addressed, composed in the year 374. In what year the letter was written is not clear. Tillemont assigns a year to it; there is nothing to prevent us from agreeing with him, nor anything that compels us. He suggests the reason why he is not assiduously with him:

We are not with you assiduously. If you ask the cause, it is because there are many around you, and even those in whom we take the least pleasure. ^B But if you purify yourself from the many, and take up virtue as your companion, you will see even the lame running, as the proverb has it. For this, with God’s help, we promise and we shall do.

LXXVI. TO GREGORY NYSSENUS

He expresses his own grief to Gregory Nyssenus, his brother, concerning the death of Basil, and [explains] that he was prevented by illness from attending the funeral and embracing the sacred body.

This, too, was kept for my miserable life: to hear of the death of Basil, and of that holy soul’s pilgrimage, by which he journeyed away from us that he might be at home with the Lord, having practiced this one thing throughout his whole life. ^C But for me, beyond other things, even this has been denied—because I am still suffering from a grave and extremely dangerous bodily affliction—to kiss his holy ashes, to be present with you as you philosophize on what is fitting, and to console our common friends. For to behold the desolation of the Church, having been shorn of such glory and having been stripped of such a crown, is something that cannot be looked upon by the eyes nor grasped by the hearing, at least for those who have sense...

well as can be conceived or imagined, at least by those who are endowed with a mind. But as for you, although you have many friends and no shortage of speeches for consolation, yet you seem to me to be able to derive solace from no one so much as from yourself and the memory of him, since ^B you have been for all the others an example of philosophy, even a kind of spiritual plumb-line for order in prosperity and for endurance in adversity. For philosophy knows these two things: how to use good fortune with moderation and how to bear calamity with decency. These are my words to your honor. But what time or what reasoning will console me, who write these things, except for your company and conversation, which the blessed man has left us in place of all things, so that by observing his qualities in you, ^C as in a beautiful and clear mirror, we may think that we possess him also?

LXXVII. TO THEODORE

^D I hear that you are taking ill the insults which the monks and the poor have brought upon us. And it is no wonder, since you are still untouched and have had no experience of our misfortunes, that you should be distressed in your soul at such things. But we, as having experienced more evils and having shared in the abuse, may deservedly be considered trustworthy in advising your reverence on those things which both gray hairs teach and reason itself suggests. That the things which have happened are grievous and even beyond grievous, who could deny? That altars have been insulted, that mysteries have been confounded, that we have stood in the midst of the rites being performed and those throwing stones, and have made prayer our medicine ^D against the volley of stones, [and that we have had to forget] the modesty of virgins, the good order of the monks, and the misfortune of the poor, [being] deprived...

of mercy. Nevertheless, it is perhaps better to use gentleness and clemency, and to provide many with a proof of gentleness and patience through what we suffer. For speech does not move most people as much as action, which is like a silent monitor.

We think it a great thing to have exacted penalties from those by whom we have been injured: great, I say (for even this is useful for correcting the faults of others), but to endure an injury received is much greater and more divine than this. For the former restrains wickedness, but the latter leads to probity; and this is indeed far more excellent and perfect than simply abstaining from vice. Let us consider that an immense gain of humanity is set before us, and let us forgive the things that have been committed against us, so that we ourselves may also obtain forgiveness; and let us bring kindness to meet kindness ^B.

Phinehas obtained the name of "Zealot" from this, that he pierced the Midianite woman with a dagger, together with him who offered her violation, and took away the reproach from the sons of Israel; but he won greater praise for this, that he poured out prayers for the people who had fallen into sin. Let us also stand, and let us make atonement, and let the shattering cease, according to the scripture ^C; and may this be reckoned to us as justice. Moses was also praised because, moved by grief at the injury inflicted on the Israelite, he slew the Egyptian: but he excited an even greater admiration for himself because he healed his sister Miriam, who was suffering from leprosy because she had murmured, by his prayers. Consider also the things that follow. Destruction is denounced to the Ninevites, but they redeemed their sin with tears. Manasses was the most wicked among kings, but among those who attained salvation through lamentation, he is most renowned.

What shall I do to you, Ephraim, says God? How much anger this speech carries with it! And yet, a defense is immediately subjoined. What is swifter than kindness? The disciples ask for Sodomite fire against those who drive away Jesus, but He rejects vengeance. Peter cuts off the ear of Malchus, one of those petulant and insulting men, but Jesus restores it ^D. What then of him who had asked whether he ought to forgive his fallen brother seven times? Is he not condemned for pettiness? For to the seven times, the seventy-

-seven times is added. What of that debtor in the Gospels who did not remit what had been remitted to him? Is he not, on this account, more bitterly forced to pay his debt?

^B Finally, does not that form of prayer look to this, that we may win forgiveness for ourselves by forgiving? Since, therefore, there are so many examples at hand for us, let us imitate the kindness and gentleness of God, and let us not wish to learn the extent of the evil of sin from our own retribution upon others. You see the sequence of His goodness. He establishes the law first; then He commands, promises, threatens, rebukes, inflicts penalties, and restrains; He threatens again. When once He is constrained, He brings a blow, and this little by little, opening a path, as it were, to reformation. Wherefore, let us also strive not to strike suddenly (for that is not safe), but having disciplined them with fear, let us overcome them with kindness, and let us make them obligated to us by their conscience rather than tormented by our anger. Let us not dry up the fig tree that is still able to bear fruit, lest we condemn as useless one who occupies the ground to no purpose, but whom the care and diligence of a skillful husbandman might perhaps heal. And let us not so quickly destroy so great and famous a work, perhaps because of the malice and envy of the devil, but let us desire to appear kind rather than strict, and lovers of the poor rather than lovers of justice. And let us not pay more heed to those who inflame us to this than to those who restrain us. Let us consider the disgrace, if nothing else, were we to appear to be struggling against the poor, who for this reason—and it is a great one—are in a superior position: that even if they do us wrong, their calamity nonetheless moves men to mercy. ^C Imagine now that all the poor and those who care for feeding the poor are prostrating themselves at your knees, and likewise all the monks and virgins are supplicating for them. Grant this kindness to all of them in their place (since they have been sufficiently afflicted and crushed, as is clear from the fact that they have besought us), and above all to us, who intercede on their behalf. But if it seems a terrible thing to you to have been treated with contempt by them, let it seem much more terrible to you that we, who advise you of these things, are not heard. May God forgive that fine Paul for the insults he has committed against us.

LETTER LXXVIII

LXXVIII. THEOTECNO

^A It is not unknown to us that it can hardly be otherwise but that when an injury is fresh, and anger still at its peak, reason is not easily admitted. For anger and grief are blind, especially when one is provoked by a grievance that is just and well-founded. But since we ourselves have been wronged and insulted along with you, and are no less aggrieved, it is for this reason only just that our counsel should not be despised by you. We have suffered grave things: add, if you will, things such as no other mortal has endured. Yet, let us not for that reason inflict injury upon ourselves, nor conceive such a hatred for piety as is by no means to our advantage. A wife is a great thing, and a daughter a precious thing; yet they do not take precedence over the soul. Let it come to your mind that you have lately been deemed worthy of the grace of baptism, and have been cleansed of your sins by that bath. Now it is a danger of no common sort to defile that gift with blood, and to have need of a second cleansing. Let us not, therefore, plot against ourselves, nor forfeit the boldness we have toward God by appearing bitter to those who have wronged us, and by raging beyond measure. Let us leave the man to God and to the punishments of the hereafter; let us rather procure for ourselves a merciful Judge by appearing merciful ourselves, and let us forgive so that we may be forgiven. ^B And let no vain reasoning deceive you, persuading you that a just vengeance is free from blame, and that it is no crime to hand over the lawless to the laws. The Romans have their laws, but we have our own. Theirs are excessive and bitter, extending even to bloodshed; but ours are kind and humane, and do not concede to us the power to use wrath against those by whom we have been injured. Let us hold fast to these; let us follow these, so that, by showing small favors—for this life here is small and worth nothing—we may receive great things from God, namely, His own mercy and the hopes of the world to come. ^C We know that it is difficult, while the injustice is fresh and the anger still burning, to receive [the] arguments. For anger and grief are blind, especially when there is just cause for indignation. Yet, because we also are among those who have been wronged and insulted, and are no less indignant, we are therefore justified in advising you not to be dishonored. We have suffered terrible things; if you wish, add that no other man has suffered such. But let us not on that account harm ourselves, nor let us hate piety so much, as is not to our advantage. A wife is a great thing, and a daughter is precious, but nothing is more precious than the soul. Remember that you have recently been deemed worthy of grace, and you have been cleansed by the bath of sins; and the danger is no common one: to defile the gift with blood, and to be in need of another cleansing. Do not, therefore, scheme against ourselves, nor cast away our ^D boldness toward God by appearing bitter to those who have wronged us, and by raging beyond measure. Let us abandon the man to God, and to the punishments hereafter; but let us win for ourselves a kind Judge, by showing ourselves kind, and let us forgive, that we may be forgiven. And let no vain reasoning deceive you into thinking that to pursue a just vengeance is blameless, or that it is no crime to hand over the transgressor to the laws. There are laws of the Romans, but there are also our own. Those are immeasurable and bitter, and proceed even to blood; but ours are gentle and humane, and do not permit us to use wrath against those who do wrong. Let us abide by these, let us follow these; that by conceding small things (for the life here is small and worth nothing), we may receive great gains from God, His own philanthropy, and the hopes beyond.

Letter LXXIX. SIMPLICIAE

A certain church of Cappadocia, bereft of a bishop, by common consent chose a slave of Simplicia, a wealthy matron and munificent towards the poor, but flagrant with heretical suspicions; and the inhabitants of the place brought him to Basil and Gregory, asking them to give him to them as bishop. The bishops agreed to their fervent prayers, and ordained the slave, who was unwilling and reluctant, not awaiting the mistress’s consent. When she learned this, she sent letters full of threats, abuse, and even arguments; for the impudent woman dared to teach Basil, as though he were lacking in skill; she even incited wicked men against him. Basil wrote back, and so suppressed the insolence of the angry woman that as long as he lived, she dared not mutter. But upon his death, she returned to her nature, and wrote to Gregory about this matter, speaking in a very honorable way of Basil, but nevertheless contending vehemently that the ordination of the slave should be annulled, threatening secular judgments. To these letters, Gregory replied much more mildly than Basil had written.

^A That you extol with your praises that holy and common father of ours—that pillar of the faith, that rule of truth and model of religion, that head full of wisdom, he who surpassed the measures of human life and virtue, that faithful servant and great high priest, that mediator between God and men, that dwelling-place of the Holy Spirit—this, indeed, you do rightly, since no speech can be found equal to the praises of that holy and blessed soul, unless love imposes it upon me, or even sorrow mingled with desire.

^B But that other thing in you I admire greatly: how you praise him indeed as a holy man and honor him as is fitting up to that point, yet you attempt to destroy his work, just as if it were the work of the unholy, and especially of those worthy of insult, of those who lived and departed in vain. For if you claim our colleague as your own slave, and strive for this small gain, I know not how I could approve of it, to speak more sparingly and moderately; and this is highly unworthy of your magnanimity. For how is it not absurd to honor the Divine with gold and silver and superfluous possessions, where perhaps there is more of display than of piety, and yet to wish to deprive the Church of a priest entirely, and to plunder her most holy offering?

^C But if you are incensed because we did this by authority, and did not remind your nobility, nor give time to your liberality and munificence, you might say something just, and this is a human feeling. But that...

^A you may know that your bounty will be much greater now than at that time, by as much as it is more magnificent to have granted it to the recipients than if you had bestowed it yourself. And in that way you seem to do this only by the grace of God; but in this way, you will also deserve praise from us, His servants, who have been deemed worthy to bear His name. Therefore, do not be angry either with him or with us. For he has suffered violence, he has not inflicted injury; but as for us, what is there to marvel at if, relying on your kindness and believing in the common suffrage of all in the place, we have proceeded to this point? But if indeed some have carried this out for the sake of favor, or maliciously and deceitfully, let them see to it themselves, and render an account to God. For it is not our task to know this, nor to penetrate the minds of all. But how indeed could we have easily repudiated and rejected it, and scorned so much force of tears, and not been moved by the desolation of the place, remaining for so much time uncultivated and destitute of a shepherd, and requiring spiritual care and administration?

That, indeed, is clear to you above all things, that those who then gave their assent, but now deny it, are doing a thing neither pious nor worthy of honest and free-born men. And their course would have been much better had they opposed it then, rather than flattering us at this time, and overturning their own deed, and fearing men more than God. ^B Believe that they will say again, because of their easy-going nature, that they changed their opinion through fear of you, and indeed more truly: since they must always be failing, and hunting for false and sophistical excuses. But if these things seem to you to be said rightly, and you ask for an account of the administration of the matter—for I have heard this also, for you did not object to it in your letters—let it be asked for justly and humanely; and we shall complain of nothing; for it is not pleasing to us that the lenity of masters should be a loss to them. ^C

What remains now? Perhaps to seize upon the man as if he were unworthy, and for that reason to find fault with the ^D spiritual oversight, which was lacking to him, who in the Spirit was to preside.

to attack. For this also would be a more specious objection. But my answer to this is simple and easy. We do not leave unexamined any among those who are accused, not even if he be one of our very close friends, and well-born (for nothing is more honorable than God and the canon), nor shall we leave this one ^B unexamined. But if anyone has something to accuse him of, if you wish, with you present and sitting in judgment; but if not, then even in your absence, let him be examined before us, and if he be found innocent, even if he be a slave, let him go free. For the same God and Father is over both slaves and masters, and justice is not determined by ranks. But if he be found guilty, then he shall be condemned for his own sin. And thus neither will the canon be insulted, nor will the departed one be dishonored (for what concerns me, perhaps, should be overlooked, as one of no value ^C), and you will escape the base suspicion as if, because of being ill-disposed toward us and the sound faith, you are contriving these things sophistically rather than nobly; and being moved by another, you are turning your attack toward something else. This is what I advise you not to do, as it is neither holy nor honorable; do not, having despised our laws, flee to external authorities, nor contend stubbornly against us, but forgive us if we have acted too simply on account of the liberty of grace, and choose rather to be honorably defeated than to win badly, by resisting the ^D Spirit.

LXXX. TO EUDOXIUS THE RHETOR

Post-Basil death, it is certain that this letter was written; and it seems to have been written not long after that time to Eudoxius, who was the son of another Eudoxius, a very famous rhetorician, and was himself a rhetorician.

You ask what the state of our affairs is. Bitterly, most bitterly. I have no Basil, I have no Caesarius, that is, neither the spiritual nor the bodily brother. "My ^C father and my mother have forsaken me," to speak with David. My body is in an ill state, old age presses upon my head, cares are woven upon cares, business transactions keep rushing in, the things of friends are untrustworthy, the affairs of the Church are without a pastor and governor. Good things are perishing, evils are naked and open, the voyage is in the night, no beacon is anywhere, Christ is sleeping. What must one do? For me, death is the one release from evils. And the things beyond are also fearful to me, as I infer them from the things here.

LXXXI. TO GREGORY OF NYSSA

^A It is agreed that Gregory of Nyssa, from the time he was made bishop, spent no small part of his life in traversing and settling the Churches of various provinces. On this account, Gregory of Nazianzus, wishing to console him for the weariness he felt from so many peregrinations, compares him to the sun, which, while illuminating the world with its rays, is constantly in motion; he compares him also to the wandering stars, whose very movement—for he was indeed, for the sake of true piety in Jesus Christ, driven from his own seat as bishop, and lacking his own Church, an exile and wanderer hither and thither, wherever the utility of the Churches called him—he betook himself. See the argument which Casaubon prefixed to his notes on the epistle of Gregory of Nyssa to Eustathia. It seems to us that this letter is more appropriate to that embassy when he entrusted the council of Antioch to Nyssen [in the year 379].

You are distressed by the wandering of your life and you seem to yourself to be unstable, like wood carried along by the waters. Far be it, noble sir, far be it that you should be so affected. For the course of those things is involuntary, but your wandering is according to God, and it is a settled thing for you to do good to many, even if you are not fixed in one place. Unless, perhaps, someone would blame the sun because it runs in a circle scattering its rays and bringing life to all things it visits; or, while praising the fixed stars, one should abuse the planets, whose very wandering is harmonious.

LXXXII. TO ALYPIUS

^B If you conjecture that Alypius, to whom we have already seen epistle LXI written, is the same person to whom the following is written, you will perhaps not be in error. But when he says he is writing this first epistle to Alypius, it should be understood that epistle LXI was also written to Aerius. Furthermore, this epistle LXXXII is the first deprecatory epistle; the first, I say, in which he asks something of Alypius. And this Alypius seems to be that same person whom Gregory in epistle CCVII, alias CXLVI, calls the glory and ornament of his fatherland. Gregory was away from his fatherland when he wrote this letter, asking Alypius to protect his family, which lacked a defender: "our family which is among you." Which words signify that Alypius was then staying in Cappadocia, and that Gregory was absent, who it is credible was then staying in Constantinople.

This is the first letter I write to you, and I offer a petition; and on that account it would be just that I should obtain from you that which I signify I desire. And what do I signify that I desire? That good-for-nothing Palladius is, as I hear, tearing to pieces our family which is among you with his violent incursions, and there is no one to assist them. You would therefore do rightly if you were to take care of it, not only while the man is present, but even much more while he is absent: so that it may not perish altogether in being corrupted and flowing away, because there are none to prevent the injury, and that there may not be some gain even for those fighting, since they have no reward for the contest.

LXXXIII. TO THE SAME

Praising the zeal of Alypius towards his house, Gregory speaks words of encouragement, lest he become weary later.

I praise the fact that you take care of our affairs. ^C

and to make it known to us by letter that you are doing this. For the one act you bestow out of justice, the other for our sake. But do not grow weary of benefiting us hereafter; rather, may you always be seen adding some increase to your zeal, so that we may admire you all the more. As for Euphemius the son, he is not yet here, but there is hope that he will arrive shortly; nor, as I suppose, will it require much labor on your part if he should come. ^B

LXXXIV. TO THE SAME.

Fortunatus, who presents this letter to you, is a friend and familiar of ours; and, if any further recommendation is needed, he is an upright deacon worthy of praise. This much it was necessary for you to learn from us. But the rest, I do not doubt that you will add of yourself: that is, to look upon the man with a kindly spirit, and to be willing to consult for him in those matters in which he may have need of your piety and aid. Certainly, whatever benefit you bestow upon him, you will be conferring upon us. ^C

LXXXV. TO THE SAME.

Embrace our affairs as your own, just as you have previously embraced them, and have proven it by deed itself. You will indeed embrace them if you look upon our beloved brother and co-presbyter Lucian with a happy and cheerful eye in other matters, and then also urge and encourage him to take care of the house of our kinsmen which is there; since, with God, the affairs have reached a successful conclusion, which occurred both through our judgment and the benevolence of the Most High. ^D

LXXXVI. TO THE SAME.

Alas! What force you bring upon us on account of friendship! Because of vows and prayers, a doctrine is being stirred up for us, and we are admitting those clad in cloaks. Yet in this matter we do not sin as gravely as those who are learned in the ways of love among the Gentiles. For they not only offer sacrifices to passion as if it were a god, but they even grant pardon to those who commit perjury for the sake of love. But if we, too, transgress in anything, yet because we endure this on account of friendship, we are not sinning in this. Come

if we have erred in this, we have sinned but little. Come therefore, if it pleases you, with your attire changed, so that both may be most pleasant for us: that we may enjoy your company, and yet not miss the mark of the ^A doctrine. But if not, then by all means with your cloak as well. And if anyone should accuse us of breaking the law, we shall play the rhetorician so far as to say that you are of the number of those who are celebrating the prayer, and not of those who are invited. If any of our party should not accept this, what will he say to that? That we are inviting you as an orphan. In this way, you will also use your authority, since it is your time and your opportunity. And a third thing, which is the most important: since you are inviting us to your vow and prayer, it is granted to us to be partakers of that vow and prayer. In this way, then, we shall receive you with our rhetorical arts. Regarding our sister, no one will blame us for her coming ^B—on the contrary, they will blame us if she does not come. Therefore, let her come of her own free will. But as for you, allow yourself to be persuaded to come, relying partly on our authority and partly on our entreaty, so that you may make our gathering more joyful; since, God helping you, the matters concerning your belly have been managed quite copiously—or rather, in a manner befitting orphans—and, if I may so express it, in a way most befitting prayer and a noble disposition.

LXXVII. TO PHILAGRIO

The ardent desire to see Philagrio, by which Gregory claims to be held, and whom he would have met without any delay had not his afflicted health been an impediment, is an argument that this letter is the first of those which he wrote upon returning to his homeland from Constantinople. Having abdicated the see of Constantinople, the Theologian had retired to Nazianzus, the church of which place he was meditating upon leaving. Learning this, Philagrio wrote to Gregory that it was dangerous to abandon the Church. Replying to him, Gregory first excuses himself to Philagrio for not having visited him upon his return from abroad; then he explains the reasons why he abdicated the Constantinopolitan see—namely, that he was weary and broken, struggling with envy and with the bishops. These things, assuredly, cannot be understood otherwise than of the Constantinopolitan Church. But the things which follow—"But if, as you write, it is dangerous to abandon the Church"—if you understand this of the Nazianzen Church, which the Theologian had not abandoned, but was meditating upon abandoning, as it seems they must be understood, perhaps you will settle the disputes of scholars concerning this letter and dissolve the difficulties.

The reason why we are unable to enjoy one another’s company is the same for us both. For your body exercises you—as it exercises you, so that I may say nothing more—and know that I am in a state of most ^C afflicted health. Otherwise, be well assured, I would have had nothing earlier, when I returned from abroad, than to run to you without any delay, to embrace you, and to take counsel with you regarding the matters at hand, as with a man who is a friend, prudent, and lofty in piety. And the remainder...

...dentem, and endowed with sublime piety. Now, as for what remained, namely that we should converse with each other by letter, you yourself have done this, ^A as was fitting, and we do the same. The matters you write about are of no small concern or trivial importance to us; wherefore, we have not examined them perfunctorily or sluggishly, but have arrived at this judgment with great care and after much deliberation. We have grown weary and broken in our struggle against envy and against those holy bishops who tear apart the common concord and who make the matter of the faith secondary to their own private contentions. For this reason, we have decided to "turn the prow about" (as the proverb goes), and to withdraw into ourselves, just as they say the *nautilus* fish does when it senses a storm, observing from afar others who are attacking and being attacked, while we ourselves ^B rearrange our affairs toward other things. But if it is dangerous, as you write, to leave the Church, which one? If it is our own, I agree, and you speak truly; but if it is one that does not concern us and was not entrusted to us, we are blameless. But are we held liable because we took care of it for a time? By that same reasoning, many others would be held liable, all those who have taken care of foreign matters. And perhaps there is a reward for our labor, whereas withdrawing from office is free of blame. Do not fear for us on this account, therefore; but rather, fear lest we suffer some harm.

LXXXVIII. TO NECTARIUS, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE

The most learned Cotelerius, a man who has deserved well of Greek literature, published this letter, having transcribed it from the Royal codices, in his notes to the Epistle of Barnabas. Since it was written when ^C Nectarius had recently been placed in the see of Constantinople, it may seem to be among the first that Gregory wrote after his abdication, or at least written either at the end of the year 381 or the beginning of 382.

It was fitting that the royal city should be adorned with royal splendor. For this reason, it fawns upon and embraces you, as is proper, along with your virtues, your discourses, and the other fine qualities with which divine grace has worthily enriched you. But it has cast us out and rejected us like some refuse, or chaff, or ^D sea foam. But since the affairs of friends are common, I share in your prosperity, and of the glory

and to participate in the rest of your prosperity. Now, as is fitting, do you also have a share in common with us in the cares and troubles of this place while you are abroad; and do not acquire and keep the good things for yourself alone—according to the tragedians—but rather share also in the labors with your friend, so that you may be altogether just, living justly and as is fitting with regard to friendship and friends. And may prosperous fortune remain with you longer, so that you may do more good; or rather, may it be yours in an inalienable and eternal way, following the prosperity of this life and your passage to the happiness of that age.

LXXXIX. TO BOSPORIUS OF COLONIA

^A Your diligent invitation moves me. But I would be more ashamed of myself if I were not writing the truth to you. I feared that our affairs might have reached their end; so ashamed am I—by my now white old age, and our common table, and the toils undertaken since my youth—that I am ranked by you in an inferior position even to the most depraved and wicked men, and contemned by those by whom I least thought I would be.

XC. TO PROCOPIUS

^B You ask how my affairs stand. I will answer with a certain story. It is said that the Athenians once went on an embassy to the Lacedaemonians when they were being oppressed by a tyranny. The sum of the embassy was to obtain from them some kindness and equity. But after they returned from the embassy, someone asked: "With what disposition are the Lacedaemonians toward us?" And they replied: "Toward us as slaves, they were exceedingly kind and humane; but toward us as free men, they were exceedingly insolent and insulting." I, therefore, am able to write this same thing myself. For we are treated more humanely and mildly than those who are rejected and desperate, but more harshly than those who are under God's care. For the illness still persists, and it causes me extremely intense pain, and friends ^C who do us harm do not relent, and even when they provide help, they injure us. ^D But pray that the Divine may be gracious to us; and of the two, either we shall escape these evils entirely, or we shall endure [E]

...they do not cease to vex us and to inflict upon us whatever troubles they can. But do you pray to God that He may show Himself propitious and placable toward us. Thus one of two things will follow: either we shall avoid these bitterness entirely, or at least we shall endure them, which is in itself a manifest diminution of our hardship.

XCI. TO NECTARIUS, ARCHBISHOP OF CONSTANTINOPLE

We have delayed this other letter to Nectarius until now, because in it he writes to him that he has somewhat recovered from the illness which he indicated in the previous letters that he was suffering from. From these letters, however, O reader, you may understand what a friendly spirit Gregory had toward his successor, since he writes to him of his own accord and commends others to him—which is surely, as Billius observes, the mark of a noble and candid man, untouched by any malevolence or envy.

Our affairs, ^A however, are as they are: we sit here without war or business, valuing the prize of silence, free from every danger, above all things. Moreover, from this quiet we have reaped some fruit, having, by God’s mercy, recovered somewhat from our illness. Do you, however, prosper and reign, as the divine David says; and may God, who honored you, guide this priesthood with you and make it higher than every calumny and vexation. But in order that we may give proof of our mutual confidence, and that, standing before God, we may not suffer anything merely human, I for my part present this petition to you, and do you gladly and willingly grant it. We are concerned for our most sincere Pancratius, for many reasons needing to do this. Be willing to ^B receive him kindly, and to commend him to the most diligent among your friends, so that he may attain his goal. The goal is to obtain exemption from affairs through some form of military service; for as you yourself know, there is no kind of life free from the injury of those who are wicked.

XCII. TO PHILAGRIUS

To the year 382 pertain other letters which Gregory wrote to his friends when, after abdicating the see of Constantinople, he was staying at Nazianzus. But since those letters contain nothing by which we might establish their order among themselves, we shall place them here indiscriminately, having regard only for their original order.

How is your bodily health? Or indeed, the question is brief, for how could it be anything but as it is? As for your soul, I will not ask how it is, for I know that it is very well, ^C since you philosophize bravely about the passions of the body, having accepted the situation as a trial of virtue, not as an irregularity of matter, so that your being affected by illness is more blessed than the health of others. And you provide this as a sufficient proof of philosophy.

is fit. You, however, provide a fitting argument for philosophy, by commissioning from us such things, regarding such subjects; even though we dare to write these to others, yet to plead our case and undergo judgment with you as our judge is not without danger. But we shall endeavor not to contradict your commands.

XCIII. TO SOPHRONIUS THE PREFECT.

^A Our retirement has something joyful and convenient about it, namely leisure and quiet; but it is not so much joyful and convenient as it is inconvenient, because it separates me from your friendship and familiarity, a matter of such great importance. Others enjoy your excellent virtue; for us, however, it would be a great and ample thing if we might have the shadow of conversation, such as is contained in letters. Shall we ever see you again? Shall we again embrace our glory and ornament? And will this be granted to the remainder of our life? If indeed it is granted, all thanks be to God; but if not, we are already dead in the greatest part of ourselves. Do you, however, remember your Gregory, and tell of our affairs.

XCIV. TO AMAZONIUS.

^B If any of our common friends—of whom I am persuaded there are many—should inquire of you: "Where is Gregory now? And what is he doing?" do not hesitate to say that he is philosophizing quietly and tranquilly, caring no more for those by whom injury has been inflicted upon him than for those of whom it is unknown and obscure whether they have even been born; of such invincible strength of mind is he! But if the same person should ask you again: "And how does he bear the separation from his friends?" no longer answer confidently that he is philosophizing, but rather that he is of a very humble and dejected spirit. For while some are weaker in other things, we are so in friendship and friends. ^C Among these, the admirable Amazonius is one. Perhaps you might heal our sorrow in this one way alone, and make us easier regarding yourself, if you were to remember us, and assure us of this fact through your letters.

XCV. TO LEONTIUS.

O fortunate and convenient illness, and the enemies' D

improbitatem, whereby it has come to pass that we have been delivered from the Sodomitic fire and from episcopal dissolution. But how do matters concerning God stand with you? May these be in a flourishing state; as for all other things, however they may be, let us bid them farewell. A little while longer, and I shall see those who have insulted me, when our affairs are judged by fire. We greet you, and through you, our common friends. Remember my stonings.

XCVI. TO HYPATIUS

We have been deprived for a long time, in that the first of cities lacked the first among men. For it was necessary, I think, for the good to be diffused, and for the benefit of all to be shared by all, so that you might scatter equity from on high, just as those who rendered food more palatable for mankind did with seeds, as is told in myths and fables. But for me there is a greater cause for grief, in that having possessed you only as much as lightning briefly illuminates the sight, I subsequently yielded to envy and withdrew into myself, ceding the rule of the Church and that more honorable stage (if I may so speak, for the sake of those who lightly play with things worthy of castigation) to others. But do you, O most excellent of men, preserve the same disposition toward us, which, like a magnet, draws iron to itself.

XCVII. TO HERCULIANUS

You are always with us, my good Herculianus, both saying and hearing something of learning, and the beautiful city of Constantine is with us through you, even if only for a brief space of time; for such was the pleasure of envy. But if Gregory were also with you, it would be better for both of us.

or both of us, should it have been so. But you will make this plain through the letters which you will send to us. For this alone is permitted.

^B

XCVIII. TO THOSE WHO ADMINISTER THE REPUBLIC

Nazianzen sharply rebukes the exactors of tributes, who had made a deacon dear to him—a man distinguished by the title of chapel of the martyrs—subject to tax. Tillemont thinks this letter was written at the same time as the preceding ones. It is uncertain whether the Theotecnus who is the subject of this letter is the same person to whom another letter of Gregory is addressed.

You do not seem to me to be the sort who would refrain even from the wallet of Diogenes the Sinopian, if he were in your time; but you would lay hands upon him too, objecting that his craft is his cloak, his staff, and this very thing—that he possesses nothing by the prescription of philosophy, but wanders now into this house, now into that, living recklessly and as fate carries him; since you even attempt to inflict loss from your "crafts" upon my brother Theotecnus as well. What, then, should I say first, or what should I say is the greatest of the things that can be justly brought forward on his behalf? Is it that he is a deacon? Or that he is poor? Or that he is a stranger and belongs more to others than to us? Or that he is venerable in life and character, and is the priest and sojourner of the martyrs? Why, not even this escapes you, that he practices the pursuit of hospitality even beyond his means. And perhaps this is his only fault, that being the only one of all those who are there, he strives to devote himself to the offices of kindness. Weigh for yourselves which of these is the greatest. But as for the man, refrain from him for all these reasons, lest by bringing an insignificant gain to the treasury, you receive a great injury to yourselves, by not clothing—but, as the saying goes, by stripping—the naked.

XCIX. TO HOMOPHRONIUS

He praises him for being devoted to the anachoretic life, and desires that those who hate us might be forced by such men to grant blessings to those who are good.

I hear that you have devoted your spirit to the anachoretic life; and would that you might become for us a John the Baptist, or even an Elias the inhabitant of Carmel; and that those who hate us might harm us in this alone—that they drive us to God and authentically deliver us to the things above, liberated from affairs and turmoils: so that, even if against their will, they might do us good, since they cannot do so willingly.

EPISTLE CI. TO GIGANTIUS

^A I rejoiced at your summons; I rejoiced yet more at what you write—not because we are praised (for that is a small thing), but because you think aright. And the bond of your love towards us is the hope of the same things, and the genuine worship of the Trinity, which we declare rather than breathe, both with danger and without danger; while we abandon other things to the times, to turn and carry them as they will, this alone we hold immovable in our souls, the only inexhaustible treasure, and truly our own. As for me, when I think of other things—how many tribulations have encompassed us, and still do, and the instability of the ills that toss us up and down, and the war that is waged against us by all, though we do no wrong—yet I look only to this: that I have been deemed worthy to become a herald of the truth, when the healthy doctrine ^B was cast aside and spurned in the desert, and was pathless and waterless, as it is written. To speak shortly: not only do I cast off every anxiety, but I even rejoice exceedingly, as having been deemed worthy of greater things than my condition merits. Why, then, do I write these things? In order to declare that my only firm friendship and intimacy is with those who are in this state. And who of sound mind would willingly leave those who are thus disposed? And what greater festival is there than to celebrate the feast with such men? But if illness and the winter storm hinder our eagerness, I shall indeed bear the loss myself; but do you extend indulgence, and pray for another occasion of meeting for us.

NOTICE

The two letters of Gregory to Cledonius the presbyter are distinguished above the rest; hitherto they have been numbered among the orations, and have occupied their places. A great part of the first letter is laudably cited in the Council of Ephesus with this preface: "Of the great and most holy Gregory, Bishop of Nazianzus," etc. In the Council of Chalcedon also, it is brought forward as the property of the whole Council, and adopted by it. These letters to Cledonius are cited by innumerable writers: by John Maxentius, by Peter the Deacon, by the Emperor Justinian, by Theodoret, etc. Both of those letters earned for Gregory wagon-loads of abuse and insults from the heretics whose errors are refuted in them. For not only the perverse dogmas of the Apollinarians, already born, but even those of Nestorius and Eutyches, before they were born, are profligated. Gregory wrote these letters not in Constantinople, as seemed to Elias of Crete, but at Arianzus, where he was residing after abdicating the see of Constantinople. Which ^{C D}

It is evident from this, that he had no controversy with the Apollinarians, whom he attacks, until he returned to Constantinople. ^A And so, the first epistle was written when Gregory, having returned to Nazianzus and found the Apollinarist sheep—whom, wandering and snatching away, he had previously borne with in the hope that, through his gentleness, he might render them tame and peaceful, and gradually soften them—found that they, having become worse, dared not only to instill their wicked doctrine into simpler minds, but even to slander Gregory himself as though he held the same views as they did. Then, indeed, Gregory, lest the evil should spread further, was compelled to write. "Not even now," he says, "would I wish you to believe that I would have written, had I not seen the Church being lacerated and torn asunder." Thus the ancients would not draw the pen unless compelled by necessity. Nor is there any other purpose or occasion for the epistles to Cledonius, except that he seems to have written the second more for the sake of the Catholics, either because they were somewhat doubtful concerning the faith of the Theologian, or—as it pleases Elias—they asked for this only, that they might have a certain rule of faith and a canon against which to measure the wicked doctrines of the heretics. Moreover, Cledonius, to whom both writings are addressed, is that same man, as it seems, whom the Theologian, when commending him to Hellenius as the solitary prince of the Nazianzen diocese, extols with marvelous praises; who subscribed as a presbyter of Iconium in Gregory's Testament. It is clear from the letters themselves that Cledonius, to whom they are written, was a presbyter, and was distinguished by piety and faith; whose duty it was to teach and rebuke in the Church, and to be vigilant lest a wicked dogma should creep in, etc. Gregory attacks the lust for innovation of the heretics and their frauds to deceive the simpler ones, concerning the dogma of the Trinity and the incarnation of the Son of God, and the errors and fabrications of the Apollinarists, which he attempts to compress, and he asks Cledonius to bear witness to what he writes to the multitude.

CI. EPISODE I TO CLEDONIUS THE PRESBYTER AGAINST APOLLINARIUS

^B To the most honorable and God-beloved brother and fellow-presbyter Cledonius, Gregory sends greetings in the Lord.

We desire to know what this great lust for innovation concerning the Church might be, that it is permitted to anyone who wishes, and, to use a scriptural phrase, to one "passing by" [Ps. LXXIX, 13], to tear apart the flock that has been well led and established, and to plunder it with stealthy incursions, or rather with predatory and irrational doctrines? For if those who have now made an onset had something they could find fault with in us regarding the faith, not even then was it right to dare such things without having brought them to our attention. For it was necessary first to persuade or to be persuaded (if we also are of any account, as men who fear God and have undergone great labors for the defense of the faith, and have served the Church well), and then, if indeed it was necessary, to innovate; yet, even then, there might perhaps have been some apology for these insulting men. But since our faith has been proclaimed both in writing and by word of mouth, both here and further afield, and amidst dangers and in peace, how is it that some attempt such things, while others remain quiet?

^C Nor is this the only indignity to be judged—though it is truly grave and unworthy—that these men instill their own wicked opinion into simpler minds by means of more crafty and unscrupulous ones, but that they also calumniate us, as if we were of the same doctrine and mind as they, wrapping the bait around the hook, and through this pretext evilly fulfilling their own desire, and our simplicity, from which we regarded them as brothers, and

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.

^A We are driven out of Carbala most impiously. For I shall use the words of tragedy, though having changed them a little: We are driven out, indeed, not in word, but in deed and with the utmost violence. For it would have been much better to have posted a public notice ordering our withdrawal, than to have settled women opposite us, by whom you have interrupted the gravity and sanctity of our life, and have attached daily disgrace and defamation—originating from those who gladly disparage men who have chosen to live as we do—and all this from those who easily abuse such men. And if it be not bold to say it, you have even driven us out of paradise through Eve. For it is indeed easy to find some specious pretext, and to excuse yourself, and to appear to speak justly—namely, that we are not being driven out by you at all, but rather that we are honored by you in that you desire to be our neighbor; and you will perhaps add that you wish to embrace us in a friendly manner, as befits kinsmen, and even to derive some benefit from our friendship. But this is mere talk, not reality. For when you yourselves come to this place, we receive ^B and welcome you. Shall we then expose ourselves to the domestic rule of women, as if to the onsets of vipers? Our own affairs, at least, have reached their end. We are hemmed in; we have gathered ourselves together; we have imposed a penalty upon ourselves, abandoning the labors of our hands and the things upon which we had pinned our hopes, and having made a long defense before the holy martyrs. Nevertheless, although these things are grievous and bitter, yet they are borne by us in a manner consistent with our way of life; nor are they more grievous or troublesome than (what we have been commanded to endure) migrating from city to city. ^C But I would have you dwell in the place for a longer time than those who dwelt there before you, more chastely than we hope, so that you may neither insult the holy martyrs, nor you yourselves be struck by the neighborhood. But above all, see to this one thing: spare those things which are consecrated to the martyrs, lest you bring evil upon yourselves and your own concerns.

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...as you may see, to the end that you neither offer an insult to the martyrs, nor be yourselves smitten by such a habitation. But above all things, provide that you keep your hands from those things which are consecrated to the martyrs; lest otherwise, you take bad counsel for yourselves and your affairs, bringing a stain and destruction upon your possessions through an evil acquisition. ^B

CCIV. ADELPHIO

This is the first letter to the noble young man Adelphius; it is nothing other than a polite salutation in which [the author] praises the beginnings of Adelphius’s virtue, the simplicity of his soul, the candor of his character, and his integrity. He also promises that he will come to him, so that upon the foundations which he has already laid, as though upon golden pillars, he may build up an admirable palace to God in that young man. This letter has been printed twice in the same volume: once on page 859, from the version of Billius, and again on page 910, n. 223, rendered into Latin by Morellus, who presents it as if it were a new work.

^B *Eien* (Well then): as for the first matters, things are going very well for us. We praise virtue; we both lean toward God; we are not bound to things below, except insofar as inescapable necessity compels us; we embrace a better and more divine friendship; we have taken each other’s hands, and we have pledged our fidelity. Come now, let us also perform our embassy to you concerning this second kind of acquaintance, setting God at the head of our account, and being moved along with Him, whom we make our advocate for every deed and word. And if I commit such a matter to letters, do not marvel. For your dexterity, and the simplicity and freedom of your character (which one might find in few ^C people and among few indeed), has emboldened us even in this. Furthermore, we do not entrust the whole matter to letters (we are not so old-fashioned, nor do we do great things in a petty way, nor treat serious matters carelessly), but for now, as Pindar says, we are setting as it were golden columns for a happy bridal chamber; a little later, through ourselves, when God grants it, we shall also erect an admirable palace, connecting the work, as they say, with the word. Many of the noble-born among you approach you (for I am persuaded that many do approach. For who among you would not love you and your fellowship?), many of those with great hauteur, offering wealth, kinship, friends, power in cities, power in royal courts—all things that are but the playthings of irrational Fortune and of time, ^D falling now to some, now to others, and shifting from one to another just as in a game of checkers.

and extending all those things which are the mocks of a rash display and of time, which now fall to these men and now to those, and are shifted and changed like the throw of the dice. We, however, offer to you one thing in place of all, that is, ourselves: and in turn we seek one thing in place of all, that is, you. But if you are to have others who are better and born of better men as friends (for we confess this, since this too is our accomplishment), yet in one thing at least—which I would pray may be said by me with God’s favor—they will in no way be superior to us, namely in faith and sincerity in cultivating friendship. Of this matter, indeed, greater account must be taken than of all other things heaped together, at least by those who are endowed with a mind. There is no need for many more words to your excellence; indeed, perhaps we have already said more than the measure of a letter requires. It remains that I should pray for something both for myself and for you. May God, who provides both these things and others for those who love Him, bring to your mind that which is best, and which may be equally advantageous for us and for you, especially as we are deliberating upon such great matters. ^A CCV. TO THE SAME.

TO THE SAME

CCVI. TO THE SAME

^A And a pious father indeed bore blame and suffered punishment for the lawlessness of his children. Fearing this example, I myself have come to this admonition. What has happened to you, I do not know. What is this great darkness surrounding you? How do you shame your own lineage? And you shame our gray hairs, and the hopes which we had for you when we visited Navilus, having discussed every good thing and having persuaded you, as we thought? Why do you not listen to the Scripture saying, "Do not give your wealth and your money to women for an evil purpose"? For know well, you will repent of these things a little later, when the flesh of your body ^B is worn away, according to what is written, and your mind is able, having passed as if through a cloud, to look toward God and to consider clearly what is beneficial. Beware of the snare, lest you be caught by your eyes; and if you have been caught, be sober, lest you also confirm the rumor that is being spread, that you have been bewitched in your mind by sorcery; for lasciviousness is dreadfully clever at devising evils. For it is painful that a house so large, and gathered with such great labors, should in such a short time be scattered and destroyed, and especially at the beginning of life, when each person lays for himself the foundations of either a good or an evil reputation. And it is far more terrible to seize and ravish with sacrilegious hand virgins and women, whom your parents, and you yourself, as you pledged to us, had consecrated ^C to God, and to have some already, and to terrify others as if they were to suffer the same. Therefore, fearing God, whom you worship, and feeling respect for us, restrain yourself from now on from every evil intention. For if it were possible for you, by looking askance, to know the shame which you have brought upon us all, perhaps you would not have needed another admonition, but you would have made the shame itself the counselor of your actions. I had things more pleasant than these to write, but nothing more profitable. And I will omit writing more, knowing this, that if the fear of God does not discipline you, words will avail little or nothing; since wax is easily marked by iron, but iron more laboriously, and adamant not even by the hardest, due to the hardness of its nature.

[The previous section of the translation ends at the end of the preceding page, which is not provided as previous text here. Therefore, the translation of the current page begins as follows:]

CCVII. TO JACOBUS

Jacobus, to whom this letter is written, was prefect of Cappadocia; Alypius, whose widow Gregory commends to him, seems to be the same person as he who was prefect of Cappadocia in the year 380, to whom we have also seen letters written by Gregory. Furthermore, whether this Simplicia, widow of Alypius, is the same person to whom letters of Basil and Gregory are extant, it is not possible to divine. That woman was indeed at that time a heretic and dissolute, but perhaps, having acknowledged the truth, she was married, and even already a widow. If reliance is to be placed on Muratori, Alypius, of whom this letter treats, was the husband of Gorgonia, sister of Gregory, who had also formerly been the husband of Simplicia. How these things can be reconciled, I do not understand at all. He contends in his prayers that Jacobus, having most righteously weighed and investigated Simplicia’s case, should send her back to him more cheerful. ^A

If I were as capable in body as to be equal to enduring labors, I would have betaken myself to you, both to satisfy the desire for your company and to converse about those things I wished. For my discourse is not concerning trivial matters. But since I am held by infirmity of health, I found it necessary to have recourse to letters. Our most adorned daughter Simplicia, the former wife of that upright and honest man Alypius—the ornament of our whole country—I present to your nobility, together with the wretched names of widowhood and bereavement, that she might obtain from you, in those matters where she will need your aid, her due rights. And I beseech you, behold the magnitude of her calamity. She has not yet put an end to her mourning; she is troubled on account of her orphans, and she undertakes long journeys within so frail a body and with such lack of experience in business, she who has not even been accustomed to go beyond the threshold of her house. ^B What is more pitiable than this? Namely, that not even a place is allowed for mourning, and that the dignity of her nobility is crushed by calamity. Considering, therefore, all these things with yourself, and also moved by our prayers, do not await until another should be a judge for you—I mean for you, O great and honest Jacobus—nor bring her into the necessity of undertaking a longer journey, since she greatly trusts in the equity of her cause, just as she convinces many, and us as well. But having read our letters, and having examined her claims with all uprightness, send her back to us more cheerful, considering before all things in your mind that you possess many things by the benefit of God: power, riches, fame, and reputation—things which pave the way to greater prosperity. ^C Preserve these for yourself through this present kindness; and think of it thus: as a father of children, having been partly extracted from dangers and partly having entered upon them, so consider and make for yourself through this present matter hopeful expectations before God.

EPISTLE CCVIII. TO THE SAME

Although the epistle which follows is inscribed to the same person, I can scarcely be brought to believe that these twin epistles were written to one and the same Jacobus; for although they are written for the same reason, neither in any way depends on the other, nor does it cohere with the other in any part. We, therefore, most willingly embrace the conjecture of the most learned Tillemont, who thinks that this second epistle was given not to Jacobus, but to the companion and assessor of his prefecture. ^A I know your excellency only by hearsay and fame; yet I marvel that so few of those who have had long-standing acquaintance with you know [its extent]; for so great is the report of your goodness among all. For this reason, I myself have also ventured upon this entreaty. The admirable Alypius has left us—the common patron of friends and guardian of orphans. This is for us a catastrophe of no small account. Furthermore, this has been added: that his most honorable widow is occupied with care and solicitude for the sake of the orphans. I beseech you, console her through your present humanity and compassion, and grant security to your own children through your kindness toward orphans, and show that kinsmen have a better condition than strangers. Moreover, there will also be the advantage of having bestowed a favor upon us, to whom, whatever honor you may grant, you will be granting to God, since we are those whom He has deemed worthy to be His ministers and attendants, even if we are inferior to the dignity of such a task.

CCIX. TO CASTORIUS

Sacerdos, by fact and by name, was an exceptional man, most dear to Basil and Gregory for his piety, and most celebrated for his patience in enduring labors and persecutions, and for other virtues. A few things have already been prefaced by us regarding him; we would add more here, were it not that it seems sufficient to draw from the very fountains—that is, to hear from the very mouth of Gregory in the epistles which he wrote either to Sacerdos or for the sake of Sacerdos. For who that Sacerdos was, what his affairs were, and what the calumnies were by which his constancy was proven, the epistles will sufficiently explain. And so, it seemed appropriate to place them here together, especially because in the final days of Gregory's life, the cause of Sacerdos was under agitation, and ended with his own death.

^C How tyrannical and violent you are! Your letter was merely glimpsed, and we have fallen into contempt. But behold, there is for you the man who has suffered much, Sacerdos, your brother indeed, but my son, and a companion and participant in my calamities. Furthermore, lest we be entirely and in every way overcome, see that you restore him to us as quickly as possible as a consolation of life, so that he may be able to occupy himself with philosophy, both as one to be taught and as one who will teach. For just as a shared sorrow is of great moment for concord, so too is a consensus and agreement of minds for counsel.

CCX. TO THE SAME

^A It appears that a foreign land showed itself more favorable to me than my homeland. For the former gave me the opportunity to enjoy your friendship, while the latter granted me nothing of the kind. And this is what the disease has brought upon me, which holds me as though bound by the feet, and makes me sluggish for many things, or rather, if one must speak more truthfully, renders me utterly immobile. However, we shall bear this loss, even if with a sorrowful heart. But what trouble is there that a man cannot bear? May you yourself thrive, and may all things turn out according to your wishes, and may your affairs be in the hand of God. And they shall be, if you offer Him a sincere heart. But as for our Lady, our common sister, I wish that you would send her back to us as quickly as possible, as a common support for all the pious and for my own infirmity; ^B or otherwise, we shall clamor loudly against your priest, on account of whom we are suffering this loss, and we shall call her by her own name. What that name is, you will know if you ask her.

CCXI. TO CYRIACUS

^C I know well that you honor the devout, and that you treat the poor with kindness; now an opportunity offers itself to you for both virtues, for the matter stands thus. Our most beloved and God-pleasing son Sacerdos, the ^D fellow-presbyter, is in charge of a famous and populous hospice, by reason of his piety and the diligence required in this affair. Now, among the properties which are provided to the hospice, the lands of Liriandus and Caberina, being adjacent to the places belonging to the house, contribute something to the hospice through the generosity of the most honorable Castor. If you free these from all injury and insult, you will contribute no small part both to the care of the poor and to your own reward, which you know is owed to the pious. It is clear, moreover, that since you have once set your mind to doing good, you will also make provision for their security in the future, so that it may not be permitted for anyone, even if they wish, to inflict damage upon those places, in whatever way your wisdom may devise.

CCXII. TO SACERDOTUS

I greet you, our new hope, who are gray-headed while still in your youth; and I wish and pray for all that is most beautiful for you. Yet you are not ignorant of what is the first of all good things—namely, always to possess God, and to become a possession of God through intimacy with Him and ascent toward Him; I know that you will remind yourself of this, too.

CCXIII. TO THE SAME

If you expected nothing difficult when you were embarking upon philosophy, then the beginning was unphilosophical, and I find fault with its architects. But if you did expect it, if it has not happened, thanks be to God; if it has happened, either endure it with endurance, or know that you are failing your vow and promise.

CCXIV. TO THE SAME

That which has not been tested is not approved; but that which has been put to the proof in actual events is more approved—like gold in a furnace. And if you have sufficiently attained this through philosophy, thanks be to God. But if not yet perfectly, I add myself and my own affairs to yours. We have been insulted, we have been hated; for what grievous thing have we not suffered, as far as those who intended it were concerned? Yet afterward, we were released from those who were causing us these injuries. What greater benefit could we have received than this? Therefore, considering these things, offer thanks to God for the insult itself, even if you owe none to those who inflicted it.

CCXV. TO THE SAME

^A What is serious for us? Nothing, except to miss God and divine things. As for other matters, let them be as God brings them about, whether He manages and directs us through the arms of justice and the gentler path, or through those to the left and harsher ones. Our life's dispenser knows the reasons for these things. Let us fear only one thing: to suffer something unworthy of a philosopher. We have fed the poor, we have practiced brotherly love, we have found delight in psalms, as long as it was possible. If this is not granted to us, let us pursue some other philosophy; grace is not impoverished. Let us live in private, let us contemplate, let us purify our mind with divine visions; which is perhaps even more sublime than the aforementioned things. But we are not disposed in this way; rather, because we have missed the one thing, we think we have fallen from everything. Let it not be so; but let us still hold fast to good hope, if we see anything remaining for us; and let us not be like colts, which, not being accustomed to terrors, become wild at the noises and cast off their riders.

CCXVI. TO EUDOCIUS

^B Eudocius was the primary actor and the greatest party in that most wretched tragedy, or persecution of the priest. At first, he had been joined with the priest in friendship, he had honored him as a father, and he was, it seems, a monk of his monastery. Then, because of a disgraceful discord, he willingly departed from his friendship: incited also by others, as is credible, he stirred up a lawsuit against the priest and accused him, or rather slandered him, to Helladius. Helladius, perhaps a secret adversary of the priest and a prompter of Eudocius, removed that venerable priest from the care of the poor and the guardianship of the sacred buildings and the brothers; in a word, to the indignation of the members, he cut off the head from the body, and did not hesitate to reveal, both in word and writing, the grief of mind which he felt toward the priest. Yet what crimes were objected to the priest is still unknown. Gregory, who knew the piety and innocence of the priest, wrote this letter to Eudocius, from whom the priest had suffered such indignities; it is wonderful how gently, how friendlily he admonishes the offender; how paternally the old man entices the youth, so that he might be willing to use the priest as a mediator in the suit and quarrel, and therefore come to meet him. For the priest himself, who had fled to Gregory, was present.

^C He who is of one heart is also of one suffering: and what is accompanied by suffering is sincere; and what is sincere is worthy of trust in counsel. Since, therefore, we are older...

piety, and through experience we have gained knowledge of both many men and many characters (for experience is the mother of wisdom), but you, like young colts newly yoked, and having just begun the contests according to God (and everything that is beginning is hotter, and can, by the fervor of the Spirit, accomplish many of the things that are required, but can also err in many things out of ignorance), be willing, once you have reached us, to honor us as elders, and to revere us as fathers, and to use us as mediators for the dispute that has arisen between you and our most reverend brother and colleague, the priest Sacerdos, for he himself is present; so that, having set things between you aright, you may both cherish the bishop with obedience, and remove the scandal of the multitude, and, what is greatest of all, render God propitious, lest you destroy in a brief moment a matter so great and so glorious (I refer to your harmony, and your covenants of life according to God). ^B

CCXVII. TO THE SAME.

Eudocius seems to have written back that he would deliberate and take counsel as to what needed to be done, as indeed these words of Gregory’s, with which he begins the following letter, sufficiently demonstrate: "After the war, aid..." or "We take counsel after the deed." Then, treading a middle path between flattery and rebuke, he so casts the blame onto others that he does not at all release Eudocius. Rather, he encourages him to heal the fault and to form a scar, more than he laments his own, and finally offers him dialogue, if he should be seized by the desire for it.

Post bellum auxilium: after the storm, the pilot; and since it is necessary to deliberate first, and then to act, we have reversed the order: we take counsel after the deed. Wherefore, if it were necessary to flatter and to do worse things, I would certainly have found many ways of flattery, by how much the matter is easier, and is now performed by many. But since it does not befit us to injure, and especially a soul recently initiated, and recently applying itself to the honorable, hear the things that are true. The beginning is alien to philosophy; and your "cultivators" have loved you poorly, even when they played out their own affairs under another mask. If, therefore, you have changed at least now, and have healed the sin, perhaps some closing of the scar will come to you, even if with difficulty. ^{C D}

^A and if you should linger in these same things, and boast of a bad victory: *My wound is painful,* says divine Scripture, *whence shall I be healed?* For I consider your affairs to be my own; and although I am so affected, if the desire for conversation holds you, I will not refuse.

CCXVIII. TO THE SAME

Eudocius, having received the previous letters, offended, replied to Gregory and cast the friendship of Sacerdos in his teeth, although he signified that he himself desired conversation. Gregory, writing back again, confesses that he is a friend of Sacerdos; who indeed, in those things which he demanded, did not desert the force of charity, but instituted a brotherly rebuke rather than an emulation full of hatred. He adds that he is not so ignorant and rash as to wish to debate and judge a dispute before he has heard both sides. Finally, if winter impedes the conversation, he exhorts Eudocius to return to concord and friendship with Sacerdos as soon as possible.

He is certainly a friend to me, I confess—and would that he may be—the honest and upright Sacerdos, my fellow-presbyter, and the more so because he embraces you with love. For neither did he desert the force of charity in those things which he demanded; but he instituted a fraternal rebuke rather than an accusation full of hatred. Yet I am not so ignorant and rash that I would wish to debate and judge a dispute before I have heard both sides (do not imagine this), seeing that in the letter itself, which you condemn as too bold (unless you read it sleepily and while doing something else), I did not rebuke you so much as those who kindle anger in you, and who earn their own pleasures ^B from your discord. What, therefore, is it that I have done? So that you may know: horse-trainers exercise colts to colors and noises, and to places that are both downward and sloping, and upward and steep, not that they may frighten them, but that they may teach them not to be frightened. Having this in mind, I did indeed write a rather harsh letter. For the exercises of philosophy are many; and thanks be to God that I did not find you unphilosophical, nor addicted to earthly things, but quite gentle, and of our company, from which you both write modestly and desire a meeting and conversation. If, therefore, you should grant this to us, you will do better, and we shall receive you, be assured, with fatherly eyes. But if, indeed, the winter in any way hinders you, we shall receive you meanwhile with exhortation. Do not even now prefer anything to friendship and concord with our brother Sacerdos ^C (be persuaded by me), and do not think anything else, than that what has happened is a test of the evil one, to envy our friend-

as a gift (believe me), and do not think that what has been done is anything other than a temptation from the wicked one who envies your philosophy. But do battle against the first temptation bravely and manfully, so that he may not make a second and a third attack ^A, and others in succession, but rather depart defeated and ashamed. For we know his wrestling matches, having been instructed in this over a long period of time, and through the struggles undertaken against him.

CCXIX. TO HELLADIUS

Helladius’s judgment regarding Sacerdos was a stumbling block to many and caused grief to pious men who were deeply attached to Sacerdos and bore the injury done to him with difficulty; yet there was no one who would set himself up as a wall against the iniquity. Gregory alone, for his ^B constancy and love of justice, undertook to protect and defend his innocence. This he performs with wondrous skill in this letter to Helladius; whoever reads it will recognize the master of the art of letter-writing who composed it.

The words I am about to speak to you, I speak out of good will, so that I would be justified, first of all, in being heard when I exhort you; but if not, then at least in having the exhortation forgiven. Not many approve of your action regarding our most venerable brother and fellow-presbyter Sacerdos, considering it to have sprung from the slander of certain people rather than from your own judgment—people who perhaps are ignorant of the sequence of events but, while observing the final result ^C just by itself, do not praise it. These things, however, you yourself would know. For it is not for us to pry into your affairs, as you are one who even prescribes to others what should be done. But we entreat your goodness, first, to allow the man full charge of all the things he was previously attending to. It is not so easy for anyone to philosophize, even if he is most patient and most philosophical, to the point of being deprived of such labors and such habituation. But if not that, then at least a second thing: that you manage ^D the care of the poor as you wish, and through whomsoever you may approve, but entrust the concern of the monastery and of the brothers to him; and do not sadden him with innovation, nor cause even greater sadness to those who cling to habit and cannot bear, as it were, the distraction of the limbs of a single body. For some of them who have come to us have lamented this fact. Therefore, if the man appears to you (as is surely fitting) to have something worthy of reverence even in himself, reverence him for his own sake, and for his gray hairs, and his labors, and the other things [end of page]

and the labors which he has undergone in a godly and religious manner, exhibiting a piety greater than his age would suggest, as well as those which he spends in feeding the poor and governing the brotherhoods. But if this seems small to you, at least do not despise us and our entreaty: and above all things, dismiss your anger and grief of mind against him. I beseech you, as a father, to unite him to yourself as a son; if he has in any way caused you sorrow—which I do not think—forgive this on our account, and neither say nor write anything about him that is unworthy of him or of your own gentleness; or if anything has already been written, let it go. Do not make public the sorrow which is better to hide than to make known to those without, so that, among other things, you may also teach him by your example to be long-suffering. ^B

CCXX. TO THE SAME

The reply of Helladius to Gregory was indeed gentle and sweet in words, but most distressing in substance, inasmuch as it signified that various and most grave crimes had been brought against Sacerdos, or at least that envious men had imposed them upon Helladius. Gregory gave the less credence to these, because Sacerdos, who was then present, protested that he was prepared to defend himself and to prove that all these accusations were false and fabricated. Therefore, he sent the man himself to Helladius with this letter, so that, if he had given him any cause for sadness, he might heal it himself, and inform him of all things according to the truth of the matter.

What you have written to me is in some parts very sweet and kind, but in others it is of such a nature that I have nothing to say about it, except that it is painful to us; and rightly so, as I persuade myself. For whether our brother and fellow-presbyter Sacerdos is justly accused—which I do not think—it is painful. For how could it not be? That such religion and so many labors should be lost in so short a moment of time? Or if this has been a calumny plotted against him by those who envy him, this too is bitter: that a man whose manner of life and discipline are in harmony with your own should be alienated from you by these injuries. Therefore, what I have recognized as the best and most useful counsel in the present state of affairs, accept it: I have sent the brother himself to you, or rather, I have led him on his way, that he himself may heal that which causes distress and inform you of everything according to the truth of the matter. For as for the other charges, he says he is ready to offer a defense, and to prove that they are false and were composed through deceit. This has convinced us, inasmuch as he initiates his speech in the fear of God.

EPISOLA CCXXI. TO HOMOPHRONIUS

Admit us to the synod. I would indeed have wished to be in such a state of health as to be able to be with you even unbidden, that I might see your holy house—the dwelling-place of Christ, the root of the holy branches, that truly joyful mother of joyful children. I know this and am persuaded of it in the Lord, and therefore I speak with confidence: even if some sorrowful thing has now met us, the lamp of Israel shall by no means be extinguished, even though it be fanned by the winds of the evil one. Nor will the goodness of God be hidden for long, which He hides from those who fear Him in the ineffable mysteries of His dispensation; but it shall rather be glorified and be a source of wonder through your patience and hope, which does not put to shame. ^B Persuade our dearest son Sacerdos to this same thing—not to lose heart, nor to think that he is suffering anything unworthy of himself, but to dispose himself to the time such that he receives these sorrowful things as material for philosophy. Furthermore, let him continue to attend to our most honorable bishop; let him continue to strengthen the brothers, so that, above all, our work which we have purposed in the Lord may not be destroyed, since it is of such great importance and is so widely known. But if not, we shall at least show our fairness, and we shall conquer envy; for we have given the wicked, who are pursuing us with hatred in vain, no handle against ourselves.

CCXXII. TO THECLA

I myself also hastened to your piety, even though my ^C body was in a state of infirmity, both to visit you and to praise the endurance that you practice on behalf of your most blessed brother; for this is not in doubt. But since, by some turn of events, I was prevented, I necessarily had recourse to writing, that I might philosophize with you briefly concerning your affairs. Whence did our excellent Sacerdos—that genuine servant and minister of God, both now and before—derive his origin? From God. And where is Sacerdos now? With God, after having, as I well know, quite willingly withdrawn himself from envy and the struggles of the devil. And whence did we derive our origin? Are we not— ^D

and we have been led, and shall be led, having suffered a little here ^A, as compared to the hope that is there; and perhaps so that we may know grace from the things which we have suffered here. Father, mother, brother, those who have gone before—what is this? A company of praiseworthy travelers. Thecla, the handmaid of God and the first-fruits of good things, will follow them after a short while, having endured for a little time: as much as to honor them by her patience and to become for many an example of the philosophy concerning these things. Let us therefore praise the same Lord, and let us receive the dispensation of the many things more sublimely than the common people are accustomed to. Hold these things now in our place, and occupy yourself with these thoughts, even if you find better and more excellent ones by yourself. But if it should be granted to us by divine favor to see you also in person, along with all your company that is with you, we shall have greater grace toward the Benefactor from whom we received that favor.

CCXXIII. TO THE SAME

The words of the following letter to the same Thecla: "Consider also for what reasons we are vexed, whether it is not because of those who have departed from this life?" These words, I say, seem to signify none other than the Priest who had departed from this life; and therefore, with Tillemont, this letter seemed to be able to be referred to that time and conveniently placed here. Hence it is also clear that Thecla, after her brother's death, was also vexed by his adversaries, who perhaps slandered her concerning the patrimony of the poor which had been poorly administered; and who, upon his death, began to vex Thecla, the sister to whom the goods of the deceased brother had come by inheritance. Truly worthy to share in her brother’s sufferings was the handmaid of God, whose virtues Gregory, an eyewitness, here sets forth so that they might be an example. For what he had promised in the previous letter, he had fulfilled by visiting her, as he testifies immediately from the beginning. It is worth observing what Gregory says: among the things proposed for Thecla's patience are that the souls of the Saints perceive our affairs, and that we shall receive grace from them if we endure injuries inflicted on account of them. The other letters, which, except for those with many others, are uncertain as to time and have no affinity in subject matter or name with the rest, it seemed best to place at the end.

You grieve, as is likely, that we have been left behind; ^C but we grieve more that we have been separated from your piety. Yet we give thanks to God that we reached you, and we have not repented of the labor undertaken. For we beheld the firmness of your faith in Christ, and your praiseworthy solitude, and your philosophic withdrawal; for, having separated yourself from all the pleasures of the world, you have enclosed yourself for God alone and for the holy martyrs with whom you dwell, and you have offered, and even now still offer, to God, together with your most dear children, a living sacrifice, pleasing and acceptable. Let these things, therefore, be also a consolation to you in your sorrows. Since even the great David hides among those future good things, to which he sends those

thoughts, and hides the ^A bitterness of this life, when he says: "For He hid me in His tabernacle in the day of evils" (Ps. XXVI, 5). And it is not only the pain that he casts off when he remembers God, but he is even gladdened. "I remembered God," he says, "and I was delighted" (Ps. LXXVI, 4). Those who are glued to the world also feel pain, and much more so than those who serve God. But for them, the pain is without reward; for us, however, even the suffering is rewarded, when we endure it for God’s sake.

Come, let us weigh the sorrowful things against the pleasant, and the present against the future; and we shall find these not even a hundredth part of those: so much do the better things exceed them. ^B It is a good medicine for us, then, when we are in pain, to remember God and the hopes of the beyond, and to suffer what David suffered: to be enlarged in tribulation, and not to be straitened by our thoughts, nor to be covered by sorrow as by a cloud, but then especially to hold fast to hope, and to look toward the blessedness laid up in Heaven for those who endure. And we shall be most persuaded to endure hardships and to be above the many when we are in pain, if we consider what we have promised to God, and what we hoped for when we first approached philosophy. Is it to be wealthy? To be cheerful? To be successful in this life? Or, on the contrary, ^C to be afflicted, to suffer, to be straitened; to endure all things, to bear all things for the sake of the hope of what is to come? These, I know, are what we expected, not those others. I fear, therefore, that we may break the covenants we made with God, when we seek to have these things and hope for those. Let us not dissolve the contract, I pray, but let us endure these things for the sake of obtaining those. Those who have afflicted us have afflicted us; those who have departed have saddened us; but let us keep the soul unenslaved by the passions. Thus shall we master the things that grieve us. Consider also this: for whose sake we are afflicted? Is it not for those who have departed? And what must we do to appear grateful to them? Is it not to endure? This ^D further consider, for what cause we are harassed. Is it not because of those who have departed from this life? And by what sort of works shall we appear to have shown them favor? Is it not by our perseverance?

our perseverance? Let us grant this to them, for I am convinced that the souls of the holy perceive our affairs. ^A Above all, and before all else, let us consider that it is absurd and perverse to be philosophers when no necessity compels us, yet to appear unphilosophical during afflictions; rather, we should become an example to the many, of thanksgiving in happy and pleasant circumstances, and of endurance in those that are grave and bitter. And I write this not to teach you, as if you knew not, but to remind you, as one already knowledgeable. May God, who is the source of all consolation, keep you unharmed by these sufferings, and grant that we may again see your piety, and that the very events may give us proof that our labor was not in vain and devoid of results, but that we hold more favor with you than others; and as we have shared in the society of your calamity, so in turn may you have accepted us as a partner in your philosophy and patience: for which, perhaps, we are beholden, owing to this gray hair of ours and the labors we have undertaken for God’s sake.

CCXXIV. TO AFRICANUS

What things do horses most enjoy? It is clear that they enjoy other horses. What do eagles enjoy? Eagles, of course. Moreover, even the proverb itself teaches that a jackdaw sits with a jackdaw. In the same way, then, believe that an Attic person also takes pleasure in those from Attica, and that he who is zealous for nobility takes pleasure in one who is a lover and champion of it. ^C For this is what a ruler seems to me to be: a helper of virtue and an antagonist of vice, whether he wields the bloodless authority, as we do, or that which is joined with the sword and the belt. For we shall not bring bloodshed upon you, since we know that you hold your authority through virtue, not by holding men in check through force, and by restraining the wicked through fear rather than by punishments, which is the law of the best rule. For these reasons, therefore, I desired your company greatly, and I desire it even now. But because, on account of my poor health, I am not permitted to attain this, I have necessarily resorted to writing; and what is most convenient, I greet you through a man who is a friend, intimate, and kinsman, that is, through my dearest Nicobulus, who will also speak in our defense to you (the man is trustworthy, if any other is, as far as I know), and through us he will present himself to be recognized by your excellence.

CCXXIV. AFRICANO.

CCXXV. TO ELLEBICHUS.

CCXXVI. TO ANYSIUS.

CCXXVII. URSO.

appropriate, your prudence will weigh. For we must fear lest we incur the stigma of importunity and seem grave and burdensome to some, as though we had appeared in sight without reason or any clear cause. Since, indeed, to many we do not make it credible that we philosophize without hypocrisy, and that we dedicate all our affairs to God. ^B

CCXXVIII. TO PANSOPHIUS

Who does not praise a plant just now blossoming with flowers? Whom does the crop not delight, when it is already bound and promises a ripe ear? And whom does it not affect with joy, a soul newly initiated, already adorned for God, and beginning to shake off earthly shackles so as to join itself to God, and to behold the truth of those things whose shadows we now but see? For these reasons, of course, I am delighted in the highest degree by our dearest brother and fellow-minister Evagrius, seeing him approach philosophy with no sluggish spirit: since philosophy is indeed to be possessed by the love of wisdom. I rejoice also for this reason, that it procures for me your friendship; and I shall rejoice still more earnestly if you send more letters to us, and repay us with more signs of friendship. ^C

CCXXIX. TO THE SAME

Although remote in place from Pansophius, Gregory is yet always near in friendship.

As great as the space between the Iberians and us, it is a journey of not a few days! But friendship makes even those things that are sundered and remote appear close. The symbols of the festival are so joyful and pleasant! And how great is the fact that we are invited by you, and our meeting is desired! What then shall I wish for you in return for these things? That you may be such as you are. But if it is necessary to say something even greater, that you may surpass yourself. ^D

CCXXX. TO THEODOSIUS OR THEODORE

We imitate painters, who first sketch and outline bodies, and afterwards, with a second and third hand added, polish them more accurately and with colors.

To that end does the example look for me? Friendship between us was pure and guileless (a thing now most rare, and found only among a few), and this was brought about for us not so much by kinship, ^A nor by sharing a homeland, nor, as Homer says, one’s own age that is lovely, as it was by similarity of character and by taking pleasure in the same things: this is what most establishes friendships and makes them more firm. Now, too, our families are being joined (and may the Word be with God in this), so that an addition might be made to our friendship, and we might belong even more to one another. And this is what God is working toward, ^B aiding our righteous affection. Have us, then, through our most sweet son Euphemius; and we have you through your most sweet daughter. As for what follows, I do not know on whose behalf I should speak, or to whom I should address myself: whether on behalf of the young man to your Honor, or on behalf of you to the young man? For a father’s goodwill toward his children is equal. However, I pray for you that this marriage may result in every best outcome, and as is fitting, with God joining you together.

CCXXXI. TO EUSEBIO, HIS FRIEND.

Evopia, most dear, and the time for marriage, and the foundation of life, and the prayers of parents are being fulfilled. But we are absent, we who above all ought to have been present and praying with you. And yet I had promised, for hope was present alongside desire; for the will has great power to deceive. And many times I made a start, and many times I hesitated, until finally I was overcome by my illness. Let others, therefore, summon their loves (since jesting is appropriate at a wedding), and let them depict the beauty of the maiden, and in turn extol the comeliness of the bridegroom, and strew the bridal chambers with words just as with flowers. But I, for my part, shall sing to you my own epithalamium: "The Lord bless you from Sion" [Ps. CXXVII, 5], and may He Himself join this union, and "may you see your children's children" [Ps. CXXVII, 6]—it is not much to add, and that they may be even better and more excellent than you. This I would have prayed for you had I been present, and this I pray now. Let the rest be your concern, and let the father wreathe his daughter, ^D as he has prayed to do. For this is what we have decreed, and just as if we had been present at the wedding; namely, that there should be crowns for them, but for us there should be prayers, which I know are not defined or limited by places.

CCXXXII. TO DIOCLES

The argument of this letter, like the two preceding ones, is addressed to Diocles concerning his daughter's wedding. He prays that Christ may be present and that, through modesty, all things may be changed for the better, even as water was changed into wine. For the marriages of Christians ought to be modest and orderly.

Although we were not invited to the wedding of our daughter, we are nevertheless present, celebrating with you, sharing your joy, and wishing you all that is best and most beautiful. One of these good things is that Christ should be present at the wedding (for where Christ is, there is decorum), and that the water may be changed into wine—that is, that all things may be changed for the better. This is so that things which ought not to be mixed may not be commingled, and that bishops may not be joined to buffoons, nor prayers to applause, nor psalms to the music of flutes. For it is truly worthwhile that, just as in all other things, so too the weddings of Christians should be modest and orderly. Modesty, moreover, consists in gravity. These are the gifts we offer to the wedding; do you, in return, repay us with your obedience. As for your son-in-law, if he complies with these things, regard him as a son; if not, as a soldier. ^A

CCXXXIII. TO ABLABIUS

He admonishes Ablabius that, while desiring to be a sophist, he should not forget virtue and end up being nothing more than a sophist; at the same time, he playfully portrays the sophistical superciliousness.

I hear that you are on fire with a love of sophistry and that you think it is something marvelous: to speak in a grave and magnificent manner, to carry a lofty countenance, to walk with a high and uplifted gait, and to stretch those great spirits of yours as far as Marathon and Salamis—those ornaments of yours, I mean—and to think of nothing else but Miltiades and Cynegeirus, Callimachus and Telemachus, and that everything should be arranged according to the sophists ^B and as close as possible to your own endeavors and practice. If, therefore, you have some regard for virtue along with this pursuit, you are ours, and the glory and renown of your name will advance for you in the right way and order. But if you are nothing but a sophist and forget our friendship and the things we have often discussed between us concerning the good and the honorable, I will say nothing more severe or grievous. Perhaps, ^C however, it would not be immoderate to say this: know that you will indeed play for a little while among the young men, but you will be a subject of jest and mockery to yourself most of all when you come to your senses. But that will be later. ^D

CCXXXIV. TO OLYMPIANUS

^A Olympianus, the best of judges and most eloquent of orators, prefect of Cappadocia, had received a book of Aristotle’s Letters from Gregory, which Gregory asks for back, indicating in these letters that he is taking it back so that the integrity of so incorrupt a judge may not be said to have been tested by him.

The book which you received from us, containing the Letters of Aristotle, I could indeed have not taken back, but left with you—a gift suitable, to be sure, for an erudite man and a convenient memento of friendship. But lest you, as a most eloquent orator and excellent judge, charge us with having committed an act of injustice and insult against the dignity of the prefecture—by attempting to corrupt so upright and incorruptible a judge, who is beyond all profit—let that which we gave return to us. We ask for no other fee from you, a man of learning (for what could you give us, who have no desire for such things?), other than this: that you write to us. For thus will the remuneration for you be equitable, settling the favor of the Letters by means of letters.

CCXXXV. TO ADAMANTIUS

^B To Adamantius, who was asking for books on rhetoric, Gregory writes that he ought rather to seek the books of Holy Scripture, as they are more useful and appropriate. He sends, however, those which he had requested, as many as the moths and mice had escaped, and warns him that he will make excellent use of them if the fear of God, which ought to be cultivated by everyone everywhere, surpasses his love of vanity. If it should seem less philosophical to Adamantius that he asks for the price of the books, Gregory replies: "Pay me the price, and let the poor resolve the objection."

^C You ask us for books, reverting to the rhetoric which we abandoned when, by divine instinct and for the sake of God, we lifted our eyes to heaven. For it was time for us finally to make an end of playing, and of stammering in the manner of children, and to aspire to true education, and to offer our words, together with all those things we once had, to the Word. It would indeed be nobler of you to seek divine books rather than these; since we know that those are both more useful and more appropriate for you. But since the worse persists in holding the upper hand, and you cannot be diverted from your intent, behold, you have from us the books you ask for—all of them, I say, which have escaped the moths and the smoke above which they were lying—just as sailors do their rudders after the voyage and the time for navigating is over. ^D As for you, apply yourself to sophistry—not in a petty and sluggish manner, but very ambitiously and vigorously—since among you, too, the trophies of Cynegeirus and Callimachus, and of Marathon and Salamis, are held in great honor and esteem; for which reasons you deem yourselves to be happy, and to be conferring happiness upon the young. And let these things be said in jest, even if they are foreign to the time and to our institution, yet they arise from our old habit. May it be your lot to acquire these things, and to use what has been acquired for good. And you will use them thus, if the fear of God triumphs over vanity (which is to be honored by all and everywhere), insofar as

[... adeptis commode uti]. And use them conveniently. But furthermore, act thus, if the fear of God (whom it behoves all men everywhere to worship) prevails as much as possible over vanity, even if we do not altogether shake it off. But if these things seem to be said correctly by you, but it seems to you not philosophical to demand the price of the books: pay the money to me, and the poor will resolve your objection. ^B

CCXXXVI. TO LIBANIUS THE SOPHIST

A mother sends a son to a father: I mean a mother by nature to a father by eloquence. So, as he is a care to me, he shall be a care to you.

CCXXXVII. TO MACEDONIUS

We are by no means insatiable in receiving benefits from friends, even if you are most abundant and copious in giving them. And therefore we have also sent back to you the psalmist, as had been agreed between us, a man who is otherwise excellent (as far as we could perceive in a short space of time), and perhaps also pleasing to you on account of his psalmody, which constantly refreshes the memory of God and of salvation. But if you should again favor us with a benefit, whenever it may seem good to you and an occasion presents itself, you will do better, and it will be more in accordance with your love for us. ^C

CCXXXVIII.

To the most pious and, in all respects, most adorned fraternity in Christ, which is in Sannabadaa, belonging to the blessed Leucadius, among monks and virgins sanctified in Christ Jesus, Gregory sends greeting in the Lord.

That which has occurred by the counsel and providence of God is a matter for thanksgiving, not for tears, for those who truly have understanding; namely, that the athlete, after the glorious contest which he finished, has passed from the arena and has been taken up by the arbiter of the contest, in order to receive the crown of justice, and through him—

by himself, the choir of angels. All these things, and others of this kind, are a cause for joy and gladness to those who have their eyes set upon the truth according to the Gospel. ^A Since, however, a certain custom has prevailed such that we are saddened by the departure of holy men from this life and seek consolation from those who are dear to us, for this reason we neither endure to speak of anything sorrowful or mournful, nor do we advise you to lend your ears to such discourse. But we do fulfill the duty of consolation owed to you, by advising your modesty to look always toward him through the act of looking at one another. For this is what we pray, that each man and each woman be shaped by the life of the blessed one, so that when you see one another, you may be assured that you are gazing upon the character of that man. May his purity, his gentleness, his humility, his active philosophy, his perpetual striving of soul toward God, and his not being lifted up by the deceits of this life shape your own life; so that as you see these things in each other, you may paint his memorial within yourselves, and neither he nor you will be in death. For in your life he will be shown to be living always, and you, ^B through a good manner of life, will render yourselves strangers to the fellowship of death. May the Lord preserve you in the power of the Holy Spirit, whole and sound, progressing in soul and body, mindful of us in your prayers.

CCXXXIX. TO EPIPHANIUS

I invoke law against law—the law which commands children to be instructed, and that which commands honor to be paid to a father. Now, therefore, I offer myself to you as a leader toward the most noble things, and accept this letter as a right hand of friendship. But if you should make an attack in return, and often resolve to do so, perhaps you will make an old man a warrior, in no way less vigorous than Nestor.

CCXL. TO MELETIUS

So much time has passed now, and I have not received any letters from you, although, as you suppose, I have been desiring them: nor have I myself...

[The translation starts from the top of the column, covering the text missing from the start:]

...the things that I have written to you, I have no doubt that you also were desiring the same. O what a vast cessation and sloth, not to say stupor! As far as sleep is concerned, Arganthonius has almost returned to us; so long have we slept. Where is that band of ours? Where are the common discourses and meetings, and that sweet and perennial fountain from which we used to drink? For my part, I am rising up and shaking off the dust, just like the horses of Achilles—late, indeed (for I fear to say it), and I am shaking my mane. Do not think that I am mocking. But as for you, whether you care for our friendship will be made clear by what you write. ^A

CCXLI. TO ABUGRIUS

It is certain that this letter was written in the final days of Gregory’s life; for he wrote it when hardly a tiny spark of life remained, such as to allow him only to breathe. He prays for prosperity for Abugrius.

The report, a messenger of good things, does not cease to inform us that you shine like the stars, sometimes rising in one part of the barbarian frontier, and sometimes in another; ^B now distributing military pay and rations, now appearing before the king in splendid attire. We pray to God that your undertaking may advance to a high degree of dignity, as is fitting, and that you may one day appear to one who is wasting away. For there is within us only so much of a spark of life as is sufficient only for breathing.

CCXLII. TO PETER

This letter, which he wrote to Peter, closes the procession of Gregory’s letters. For he was already broken by years, old age, and disease, and about to depart from life, suffering from the fear and anxiety of death that was looming over him.

For a long time we have been remote from one another, and it has not been granted to us to enjoy one another’s sight, nor to converse by letters. But I trust that this is a separation of bodies only, and not of souls. But now that the opportunity presents itself, I greet your piety, and in turn I ask you to offer prayers to God for us, who are suffering from old age, disease, and the anxiety of life done, and of departure from life. ^D

CCXLIII. TO EVAGRIUS THE MONK, ON DIVINITY

It is read in the scholia: It must be known that this treatise is called into doubt. "Perhaps," says Combefis, "because it is a little more intricate, and does not shine with those lights with which the rest of Gregory’s works do." I would rather judge it spurious, so much do all of Gregory’s character traits seem to be absent. Yet Combefis, in his greatest edition, represents it as complete, without any censure or observation. And so does de Cosniac in his notes; but Father Clemencet in his argument has it thus: An Epistle to Evagrius, which was formerly among the 45 orations, not...

genuine, but a supposititious fetus. Let it be permitted to speak with Petavius: For I am compelled to think it is not genuine, both by the dissimilarity of the style, and by the pedestrian and plebeian nature of its language, which by no means breathes the elegance and grandeur of Nazianzen. Tillemont also thinks that this epistle is not by Gregory, nor does it breathe the style of that most eloquent orator; rather, it abounds with inept arguments and words unworthy of him. The learned Cotelier observes that the epistle to Evagrius is attributed to the Theologian in a Royal manuscript near the end of the Questions of Anastasius. But in the published Questions of the same Anastasius it is ascribed to Basil, and with much greater probability in a Royal manuscript likewise, number 1472, and similarly in a Caesarean manuscript in Lambecius, it is attributed to Gregory of Nyssa, and is cited as his by Euthymius in the second title of the first part of his Panoplia. It is sufficient, along with the learned men, to affirm that this epistle was not written by Gregory of Nazianzus. [Add to this that Nicetas himself does not appear to have recognized this same oration as a child of Nazianzen, for he has evidently passed it over in his commentaries.]

^B I highly suspect, and I greatly admire your prudence, etc. See among the works of Saint Gregory of Nyssa, soon to be published.

NOTICE TO THE FOLLOWING EPISTLE

The following epistle, inscribed to Basilissa, was extracted by the noble Antonius Bongiovanni from a most extensive manuscript in the Venetian Library of Saint Mark, which contains the epistles of Saint Gregory of Nazianzus, and he published it translated into Latin in the year 1754, in a work titled: *Memorie per servire all’ Istoria letteraria d'Italia*, vol. IV, p. 111, p. 55. This epistle is number 186 in the manuscript. Concerning the integrity of this epistle, no one seems to have any right to doubt, if one looks at the elegance of the language and the gravity of the sentiments. Furthermore, the name of Basilissa is not new among the writings of Nazianzen. For there are two funeral poems extant among those brought to light by Muratori, one of which you may see written for Eusebius and Basilissa, and the other for Georgius, the brother of Basilissa (former poems 50, now 121, 122, p. 1159); consequently, one may not without reason conjecture that the Basilissa celebrated in the poem by Gregory is the same one to whom this epistle is inscribed. However, the Theologian may perhaps have written to the same Basilissa to whom, at that very time, Gregory of Nyssa also sent another epistle.

CCXLIV. TO BASILISSA

^C If it does not seem superfluous to urge one who labors to take on greater labors, I will not refuse, for the sake of the common safety, to confirm your eager zeal in this matter with all my might: not indeed by handing down entirely new advice, but by commemorating those things which we have often said, and in which you have been most accustomed to exercise yourself. They are these: to establish the soul superior to afflictions by occupying oneself with the most excellent things; to prune from the mind everything that is alien to virtue and unworthy of your own judgment; to brace yourself toward piety and every form of decorum; to refine the intellect so as neither to receive nor to think anything unexamined; to strengthen the understanding at all times and in every way by holding converse with the counsels of the saints who have gone before us; to place justice toward kin and strangers before all enmity and friendship; to have temperance as one’s constant occupant and companion, truly rooted in the soul and firmly established; not to allow one’s character to change with the irregularities and shifts of life. For it is neither fitting to lower the mindset of one’s life in poverty, nor safe to be haughty in prosperity; wherefore it is best to practice temperance in pleasant things, and endurance in painful ones; to forget one’s former affluence; to seek self-sufficiency; to be content with what is given; ^D to hope for the better; to bear bodily illnesses with meekness; to complain about nothing, nor to fret, but to be thankful regarding Providence, whatever it may be—and often to hide the causes of what occurs, but not to neglect what is worth, and to which you should reflect before you speak.

to complain of the matter, nor to grieve, but to give thanks to Providence, however little the situation may be; often to conceal the causes of events; but do not in the least neglect what concerns your dignity, to which you should look before you say or do anything. For so it will come to pass that you will never have reason to repent of any word or act. I would have you consider that you are not adorned by external garments. Possess genuine and solid riches—the need for few things, and frugality. For solid riches consist not in possessing many things, but in this: needing few things. For this [latter] is within you yourself; that [former] is in external things. See that you compose your soul with equity, your character with modesty, your tongue with brevity of speech. And take such care that you adorn your head with a covering, your eyebrows with a composed look, your eyes with a modest gaze, your mouth with becoming speech, and your ears by listening only to honest speech; and finally, your whole face with that color which betrays modesty. But in all things, and through all things, see that you keep yourself inviolate, like some precious possession. For the proper ornament of women, and the one most ^A befitting them, is holiness, chastity, and modesty. Consider as the most beautiful and easily obtained delight a frugal diet; for this is laudable in itself, desirable for living moderately, highly conducive to health, and not useless for the rest of temperance, modesty, and right discipline. And before doing that which must be done—for thus ^B everything that is said or done will be for you without regret. Consider lowliness of desire to be true and firm wealth; for to be wealthy truly does not consist in possessing many things, but in not needing many things. The one is within your power, the other rests in external things. Regulate your way of life with kindness, your character with tranquility, and your tongue with brevity of speech. Through these things, adorn your head by covering it, your eyebrows by keeping them restrained, your eyes by reflecting and looking decorously, your mouth by speaking nothing unseemly, your ears by offering them only to serious matters, and your whole face with a blush of modesty. In all things, and through all things, keep yourself unspotted, like ^A some untouched treasure. For gravity, steadfastness, and temperance are an ornament proper and befitting to women. Consider necessary food to be the most beautiful and easiest delight; for it is in itself praiseworthy, choiceworthy for a life of temperance, best for health, and not without profit for symmetry, other outward decorum, and education ^B.

NOTICE CONCERNING THE TESTAMENT OF SAINT GREGORY

This Testament first appeared in Greek in the year 1583, through the care of Barnabas Brissonius, in his book *De formulis*, page 760. Jacques Sirmond, having obtained two very ancient codices from the Vatican Library, published the same Testament more accurately in Greek and translated it into Latin. Baronius also inserted it into his *Annals* (25), having defended it against objections and illustrated it with scholia. There are, however, those who doubt whether it is a genuine monument of Gregory. Among these is Andreas Rivetus (25*), one of the heterodox. "It truly seemed strange to me," he says, "if that be the Testament of Gregory, that so great a theologian and so holy a man, in the attestation of his last will, should not even by a word have touched upon his past life, or confirmed, at least in a general way, the faith and dogmas which he had taught, especially at that most turbulent time, nor have commended his soul to God, being preoccupied with his temporal goods. In which, although his concern for the poor is evident—and that not a common one—nevertheless, the reader, looking around not without reason, might have expected something else in the Testament of so great a bishop." So far Rivetus. There are also some of our own who doubt whether the Testament is legitimate. "There is, however, no room for doubt, as the most learned man Tillemont says; and no arguments are brought forward which cannot be refuted with little effort." As far as the year and day of this Testament are concerned, it appears to have been composed on the [thirteenth] day of the month of May in the year 382, while Gregory was still presiding over the Church of Constantinople, if indeed he subscribed: *Gregory, bishop of the Catholic Church of Constantinople.*