Epistulae

Thus, let your concern for raising your children draw your soul away from grief, and by caring about how you may spend the remaining time of your life in a manner pleasing to the Lord, you will devise a noble occupation for your thoughts. For the preparation of our defense before our Lord Jesus Christ and the zeal to be found counted among those who love Him are sufficient to overshadow your grief, so that we are not overwhelmed by it. May the Lord grant your heart the consolation from His good Spirit, so that we, hearing of you, may be relieved, and that you may be a good example of the virtuous life to all your peers of every age. TO COMES PRIVATUS: The people of this village, through a false accusation, I think, have persuaded your Honor to impose a tax of porters upon them. Since the action is unjust and therefore ought to displease your Honor, and is painful to us because of our closeness to those wronged, we have hastened to entreat your kindness not to allow those attempting the injustice to proceed with the injury. TO ABURGIUS: This is the man about whom I spoke to you earlier through the deacon. Since he has come bearing our letter, may he depart having what he wishes from you. UNTITLED, CONCERNING VIRTUOUS MEN: This man is already known to you, as the man's own accounts make clear. For on every occasion, his tongue has you: in the memory of the orthodox, in the hospitality of ascetics, in every virtue, the man places you first. And if someone mentions teachers, he does not tolerate setting others before you; if champions of piety and

able to refute the plausible force of the heresy, he would choose no one before you to number among all, testifying that your virtue is invincible and irresistible. And it is no great labor for him to persuade when he says these things, for he recounts them to ears of men who know more than what anyone might be thought to report with exaggeration. This man, then, on returning to you, asked for a letter, not that he might ingratiate himself with you through us, but that he might benefit me by providing an occasion to address my beloved ones. The Lord will reward him for his good intention. And do you also bestow upon him, to the best of your ability, the grace of your prayers and your good disposition toward all. Inform us also how the affairs of the churches stand. To the Governor of Sebasteia: I perceive with pleasure that your honor receives our letters kindly, and I recognize the reason. For, being a lover of good and ready for benefactions, since we from time to time provide you with sufficient material to receive the magnanimity of your intention, you hasten to our letters as containing subjects for good works. So now another subject comes, capable of receiving the marks of your dexterity in all things, and at the same time bringing a herald of your good deeds.

Men from Alexandria have set out, as is fitting, for a necessary and common debt owed to all human nature for the departed, and they require your protection, so that you may order that the body of their own man, who ended his life in Sebasteia during the sojourn of the army, be allowed to be moved by a public decree, and then that the possible assistance be provided to them from the public post, so that they may find some consolation for the long journey through your magnanimity. And that this will extend as far as great Alexandria and that the wonder of your honor will serve those there is clear to your intelligence, even if I do not say it. And we, among the many favors we have already received, will count this one as well. AN EPIGRAPH. Contentious natures often reject even good intentions and judge as good and useful not what seems so to all others, even if it is beneficial, but what pleases only themselves, even if it is harmful. The cause is ignorance and boorishness of character, which pays no heed to the advice of others, but trusts only its own opinions and the reasonings that occur to it. And what occurs to it is what it delights in, and it delights in what it wishes. But one who considers what he wishes to be beneficial is not a safe judge of what is right, but resembles the blind led by the blind. Hence he easily stumbles into losses and has experience as his teacher of what is advantageous. This, then, is the affliction suffered by the man currently joined with this one.

It is fitting to entrust the judgment to common friends; rather, having been judged many times by many who cared for justice and truth, he has now fled to the rulers and the judgment of the courts, and chooses to gain little after being greatly damaged. But judgments before rulers do not bring even victory without loss. Be a helper, O dear head, especially to both parties being judged (for it is pious), preventing their entry to the ruler and becoming a judge for them in his place. But if the other party is disobedient and fights against the verdicts, cooperate with the one who is wronged and add your weight to the one seeking to obtain what is just. AN EPISTLE WITHOUT TITLE ON BEHALF OF PROTECTION. And in the presence of your honor, I spoke with the brothers concerning those from the village of Kapraleos, and I brought them to your gentleness, having asked you, keeping before your eyes the reward from the Lord, to stand by them as poor and oppressed in all things. And now again through this letter I renew the same entreaty, praying to the holy God that both the renown and splendor of your life that you possess be preserved and that you come to greater things, so that from greater power you may more generously benefit us. For I consider you to be persuaded that our one prayer is the salvation of your entire household. AN EPISTLE WITHOUT TITLE ON BEHALF OF A NEEDY PERSON. I have strongly condemned this brother for being anxious about the registration of the house, since he already has the necessary exemption from poverty.

From a prosperous life, the Lord having so arranged for the benefit of his soul, he has now been reduced to extreme poverty, so that he barely has enough for his daily food and does not possess a single slave, from the many he formerly had under his own authority. Only his body remains to him, and that is weak and aged, as you yourself see, and three children, an addition of cares for a poor man. That he had no need of our intercession, having his poverty sufficient to move you through the philanthropy of your character, I knew precisely. But since petitioners are hard to please, I feared lest something be lacking in what is owed to him, and I wrote, knowing that the day on which he first beholds your dignity will be the beginning of a cheerful life for him for the time thereafter and will bring about some better change in his affairs. AN UNTITLED LETTER ON BEHALF OF RELATIVES. It was very much my desire to meet with your learning for many reasons: first, to enjoy the good things in you after the long interval of time, and then also to plead with you concerning the people of Ariarathia, to whom, long oppressed, the Lord has given worthy consolation by granting them the oversight of your righteousness. There is also another matter, one of my relatives, who is heavily burdened and almost the most critical part of the Ariarathian difficulty, which I also ask to be healed as far as possible by your kindness, so that it may become bearable for the owners in the future.

To the Protos. Many letters are caused to be written to your Honor by those who do not heed our assurances, but seek something private and exceptional in their own affairs. For we have long testified to them that you will be a common and equal guardian of our rights, so that no one would seek anything more in the way of favor, unless someone exceeds in greed. Nevertheless, satisfying this man, we gave him the letter, commending the man to you and asking that you receive him well and, because his household has been worn down by time with the liturgies, deem him worthy of the consolation that is possible. To the Censor. You know the benefits and harms that come to men from the censuses. So pardon this man, who has taken great care to suffer no harm, and be eager to assist him according to your power for what is just. To the Censor. It is not far off to see the economies of God, but from pettiness we men look at what is at hand, and often, when being led to a good end, we are vexed, while the Master who administers everything in his own wisdom endures our ignorance. For you surely remember how much we were vexed then at the care imposed upon us, how many of our friends we enlisted to repel the attack through them. For so we called the matter. But now you see what the present circumstances are. For God has given you an opportunity to bring the nobility of your character to light and to leave behind for the rest of your life occasions for good memory.

Whatever these valuations may be, such also is the memory of them naturally preserved by those who come after. But even if the Galatians had prayed for it, they could not have obtained a more humane character, I am thoroughly convinced. And I do not only count the Galatians blessed for your superintendence, but also myself. For I too have a house in Galatia, and indeed the most splendid of houses, God willing, and if I should obtain some assistance from you (and I shall obtain it as long as friendship retains its proper strength), I shall acknowledge great gratitude to God. If, therefore, any account is taken of my friendship by your Honor, be persuaded to provide some acknowledged benefit to the house of the most admirable governor Ulpicius for our sake, so as to subtract something from the present assessment, preferably something worthy of your magnanimity, and I will add, worthy of our embassy of those who love you. But if not, at least as much as the times permit and the nature of affairs allows, yet by all means subtract something and do not leave it unchanged, so that we may repay this one favor through your dignity for the countless benefactions we have received from the good governor. To the Uninscribed, on behalf of a Suppliant. And how was I to overlook a natural occasion for a letter and address your Honor when this man comes to you? He was sufficient even by himself to convey our matters and fulfill the need of a letter, but he wished also to become a bearer of a letter because of his great love for us and his wholehearted devotion to us. He desires in every way to bring your words and to serve you.

We therefore gave him the letter by which, first, we pray for you all the good things that this life holds and all that in the promises preserves the blessedness laid up for the future, and then we also beseech the holy God that a second meeting with you be arranged for us, while we are still above ground. That you will multiply your love for the aforementioned brother for our sake I do not doubt. So be exhorted to provide him with the experience of it in deed. AN EPIGRAPH CONCERNING A RELATIVE. Thoroughly persuaded that I will err in nothing regarding whatever I may request of your honor with justice, I readily came to give the letter to this most modest woman, who presides over orphans and manages a household more troublesome than some many-headed hydra. In addition to all this, we are also related to each other by family. Therefore I entreat your nobility, both honoring us and preserving the owed respect for the grandfather of the orphans, to provide some assistance, so that the possession may become bearable for them henceforth. AN EPIGRAPH CONCERNING ONE WHO IS OPPRESSED. Thoroughly persuaded that those who come to your goodness need no letters, because you do more from the nobility of your character than anyone could urge you toward the good by entreaty, nevertheless, because of my excessive concern for this man's son, I was induced to write to your pure and guileless soul, commending the man to you and entreating that, in whatever ways possible, you provide him with whatever assistance is in your power for the matters at hand.

I know well that he will need no other protector, if you deign to use with all the power the Lord has given you for his protection. The scarcity of replies from your region makes it rare for us to compose letters to your reverence. For we consider it a burden to your reverence for our letter to be a nuisance, since you do not receive replies to whatever we write on each occasion. But again, the thought of the multitude of your affairs changes our mind, and we have forgiveness for one who has so much on his hands and forgets us, whom it would not be easy to remember even if there were complete leisure and quiet, because of the lowliness of our life. May the Holy One lead you to even greater renown and preserve you in your present splendor by his grace. We, however, repay every occasion with letters, not least this present one because of this man whom we entrust to you and ask that he may receive some perception of the service of our letters. Those who come from our fatherland are commended to you by the very right of the fatherland, even though by the goodness of your character you bring all who are in any need of assistance under your care. Receive, then, the one who delivers this letter to your decorum, the son of so-and-so, both as a fellow countryman and as one in need of assistance and as one commended to you by us, and from all these let one thing be granted him: to obtain the possible help from you for his present concerns.

It is clear, however, that the returns for good works come not from us who are small, but from the Lord who rewards good intentions. AN EPISTLE ON BEHALF OF A STRANGER Immediately after your departure, this son of ours, who delivers this letter to you, came to us, having need, as a man living in a foreign land, of all the consolation owed to strangers by Christians. Now, he will relate the matter itself to you more clearly, and you yourself will provide the assistance that is within your power and necessary for the circumstances. If, then, the governor is present, you will of course escort him to him. Otherwise, you will provide him with what he seeks through the civic authorities. For it is no small concern to me that he should return after having accomplished everything according to his wish. AN EPISTLE OF SALUTATION After a long time, it has been granted to us to address your honor, because the one who brings back the replies spent a long time in our region and encountered both men and circumstances of a more difficult nature. For he was estranged from his homeland for a whole year. Having been led astray by the deceits and dissolutions of men, thinking that if he could master the present villainy he would prevail over everything, he perceived the capital of his loss only late, his perception being gradually stolen by the deceit.

Since, then, he has returned, freed from both the annoyances of the weather and the wickedness of men, we greet you through him, urging you to remember us in your prayers (for we are in great need of the help that comes from prayers), and at the same time we inform you that those who were left responsible for the payment of the debt, as the blessed bishop mentioned in his will both the debt itself and from what source and through whom it was to be paid, have disregarded friendly reminders and are awaiting the compulsions of the courts. For this reason our companion has returned without success, and he has asked that these very things be attested by us, so that he may not incur a charge of idleness or negligence before your honor. So much for that. As for the state of the Churches, whether they have been allowed to remain in the same condition, or have fallen into a worse state, or have any hope of change for the better, deign to inform us through one of our genuine brothers. To Thecla. The past year has been a severe frost for the homeland, and it has cut off the eyelids of the vines as they were loosening for labor; the remaining barren ones have made our bowls dry and without moisture. Why then do I lament to you the unfruitfulness of the plants? So that for us, according to Solomon, she herself may become a vine that produces cypress and a fruitful branch, not blossoming into a cluster, but distilling the dew of the clusters into the toils. There are among us some men who are building the enclosure of the assembly.

Not having the means to give them the mountain vintage, I have resorted to your right hand, rich in grapes, so that you might command the streams from your river to flow for us. For if you do this, you will quickly give rest to many souls, and you will delight, as much as possible, even me, the Atticizing beggar. AN EPIGRAM ON A FRIEND SYMPATHIZING Having received the letter of your honor, I rejoiced, as was natural, and gave thanks to the Lord, and I was eager to reply, if someone had reminded me in due time about the copies. For the matter concerning which you gave us orders was reaching its conclusion over time. But it was not possible to give any secure answer before the end. This is the cause of our silence; for it is certainly not negligence nor ignorance of what is proper. For even if we were altogether negligent, we would certainly have been eager, in the presence of your honor, to conceal our shortcomings. But now it is not possible for us to forget you, not even in the slightest (or one would sooner be ignorant of oneself), but, whether we write or not, we carry you enshrined in our hearts, and we are so distressed by the long separation of winter that we pray, if it is not possible for you yourself, on account of your well-known occupations, to leave the country folk, that we might have an excuse to come to those places and enjoy the true stability of your character and your decorum. In any case, you will be eager to spend the saving day of Pascha with us, together with your most decorous wife, whom we greet through you and ask to join us in urging you to come to us. TO PHILAGRIUS ARKENUS Thanks to the holy God.

For I would not say that I am grateful to those who have wronged you, because they have become for me an occasion for letters. But the Lord, who benefits us from every direction, knows how often to fulfill our requests even through painful things. Hence, even the perversity of those who have fled from you has become for us an occasion for joy. But write to us on every pretext, writing such things from a good disposition and from a purified tongue. For even if we claim not to be concerned with the pleasantness of expression, still we are somehow naturally charmed by it, and those who are graceful in speech lead us, like those who attract bees with their tunes. So send many letters, and as long as possible; for brevity is not a virtue of a letter, any more than it is of a human being. Write to us about how things are in your household, and how your own body is in health, and whether the affairs of the Churches are at peace. For you care about these things as well, and rightly so. And indeed, if there is any power to cooperate for peace and the union of those who are divided, do not decline. The good Cyriacus first touched upon the matter with zeal and then delivered the letter to us, and for the remainder of the business he had our available assistance. For we wrote to the chorepiscopus of the region, who, if he does anything of what was enjoined, will make the matters known. To the physician Pasinicus: A proof that you are not indifferent toward us is that you address us immediately from the very threshold, so to speak, of your entrance. Now, encountering friendly letters is itself worthy of zeal; but if what is written also fulfills a need in the greatest matters, it becomes obviously of much greater worth.

Know well, then, that the excellent man Patricius carries on his lips such persuasive charms that not only would he persuade you, who have written, but even if he took some Sarmatian or Scythian, he would easily convince him of whatever he wished. Yet those words of joy are not from the heart. For this manner has long been practiced: to be kind in speech and seemingly artless and ready to submit their own affairs to any court, but when it comes to the actual matters, may you not be there. But let this be said to you, so that you yourself may know that the man is not otherwise easily led, and also that you may be persuaded by yourself not to heed the elegance of words, but to await the proofs from deeds. To Magninianus. The letter of your reverence sufficed to produce in us all joy. But now the most modest of women, Ecelion, our common daughter, by delivering the letter, increased the joy more than twofold, not only because she is a living image of your goodness, but also because she displays from herself every care for virtue. So that, having received her gladly at first on your account, we later, on reflection, counted you blessed on her account, because the rewards of such child-rearing await you from the Lord God. But may we one day see you yourself and enjoy the good things in you, with neither illness nor any other difficulty hindering our meeting.

Untitled, for Admonition. The holy God has given us a most suitable subject for a letter, having made known to us this brother, the man whom we employed as the deacon of this written discourse of ours on the journey back to your honor, praying to God that you, advancing to greater distinction and glory, may adorn both us and the whole fatherland with your own virtue. And we exhort you to remember throughout your whole life the God who created and honored you, so that in addition to the splendor of this life, you may also be deemed worthy of heavenly glory, for the sake of which we who direct our lives toward the blessed hope must do everything. Untitled, for Exhortation. For the honors you bestowed on us when present and for deeming us worthy of remembrance when absent (for the report has reached us), may there be a recompense to you from the good Master, and may we see you on the great day of the righteous judgment of our God, distinguished for good deeds, so that, just as you have been deemed worthy of earthly distinction, you may also enjoy honor before the heavenly King. We therefore exhort you, first of all, to provide constant zeal to the Church of God, and then to increase your goodwill toward us, deeming us worthy of all remembrance and patronage, and to honor us also with letters, so that we may have proof that you are not burdened by our writing more frequently, and may take courage to address your magnanimity. To Hyperechius. And I greet your honor and pray for good things for you, and I inform you of myself, as one who is certainly eager to know our circumstances, that I do nothing better than usual.

I refrain from more grievous complaints, lest I cause excessive pain to one who prays so earnestly for our welfare. To Phalerius: I was exceedingly delighted with the river fish, having borne a grudge against them for the flight they took when they slipped under the shelter from the cold. Yet your letters are more precious to us than fish. So write to us rather than send gifts. But if you prefer to be silent, at least do not cease praying for us. Untitled: That I love you, learn from the letters I send. That you hate me, I know from your silence. Henceforth write, even if only with reed and ink and a small sheet of paper, loving those who love you. Untitled: It is vain to write twice about the same matters. For either the matter admits of no correction, and those who approach us trouble us in vain, or those who receive the letters disregard us, and thus we are foolish to write to those who despise us. Since you have already received letters on this same subject, and we have been compelled to write a second time, either correct the matter, if you have the power, or inform us of the reason why the orders have not been carried out long ago.

Another letter without superscription: Speech is a sign of life. For how could you be considered to be above the earth if you never utter a word? But cast off your silence by writing to us and showing yourself that you are alive. To a notary: Words have a winged nature. For this reason they need signs, so that the writer may catch the speed of them as they fly. You, then, boy, make the characters perfect and dot the spaces accordingly. For in a small error much speech is mistaken, but by the care of the writer what is said is set right. To a calligrapher: Write straight and use the lines correctly, and let the hand neither be raised to a height nor carried down precipices. Do not force the pen to go crookedly like the crab in Aesop, but go straight as if walking on a carpenter's level, which everywhere preserves equality and removes all unevenness. For the crooked is unseemly, but the straight is pleasing to the beholders, not causing the eyes of readers to nod up and down like a well-sweep, such as has happened to me when encountering your letters. For with the lines placed like a ladder, when it was necessary to pass from one to another, it was necessary to straighten out toward the end of the approaching one. In which, when no sequence was apparent, it was necessary to run back again and seek the order by retracing and following the furrow, just as they say Theseus did with Ariadne's thread. Therefore write straight, and do not confuse the mind with the slanting and crookedness of what is written.

Basil to Libanius: I am ashamed to bring the Cappadocians to you one by one, but not to persuade all those of age to lay claim to words and education and to use you as a teacher of training. But since it is not possible to meet all at once, as each chooses what is fitting for themselves, I send on to you those who are persuaded each time, granting them as much as those who lead the thirsty to the springs. The one now approaching will be sought after a little later for his own sake, once he has associated with you. Now he is known from his father, a man who has gained a great name among us for uprightness of life and political ability, who is also bound to me in the highest friendship. Repaying him, I give this favor to his son, making him known to you, a thing worthy of the greatest prayer for those who know how to judge a man's virtue. Libanius to Basil: After a long time a Cappadocian youth has come to us. This is one gain, that he is a Cappadocian. But this Cappadocian is also of the first rank. This is a second gain. And he brings us a letter from the admirable Basil. Which of these would one call greater? For I, whom you think to have forgotten you, respected you even when you were young, seeing you vying with the old in temperance (and this in that city teeming with pleasures) and already possessing a great portion of words. And when you thought it necessary to see Athens and persuaded Celsus, I rejoiced with Celsus, who was attached to your soul. When you returned and held your country, I said to myself: "What is Basil doing now, and to what life has he set out?

Is it in the law courts that he emulates the ancient orators, or does he make children of blessed fathers into orators? But when some came reporting that you are far better than these ways and are considering how you might become a friend of God rather than amass gold, I counted you and the Cappadocians blessed—you for wishing to be such, and them for being able to show such a citizen. That Firmus has everywhere prevailed, I know well; for from this comes the power of his words. Having enjoyed many praises, I do not know that he has ever heard such great praises as now in your letters. For you who say that no one could surpass his glory—how great must one consider him to be? You seem to me to have sent these men before seeing Firminus. For otherwise, would the letters not have contained him? And now what is Firminus doing, or what does he intend? Is he still in the wedding festivities, or have those long ceased, while the council is burdensome and he must remain there entirely, or what hopes are there that he will again share in learning? Let him answer us something, and may it be something good. But if it should cause some pain, at least it will free us from watching the gates. If Firminus were now in Athens, what would your councilors do? Would they send the Salaminian ship for him? You see that I am insulted even by your citizens alone. Yet I will not cease to love and praise the Cappadocians. But I pray that they become better toward me, while if they remain as they are, I will bear it. Firminus spent four months with us, and not a single day was idle.

The gathering, such as it is, you yourself will know, and perhaps you will not blame it. But for him to be able to come here again, what ally must one summon in addition? For if those who deliberate are right-minded (as would befit educated men), they will honor him with second prizes, since they caused him pain with the first. BASIL TO LIBANIUS: Behold, another Cappadocian comes to you, also my son; for this habit in which we now are makes all men our children. So in this respect he would be a brother of the one who came before, and worthy of the same zeal—to me as father and to you as teacher, if indeed it is at all possible for those who come from us to have anything more. I say this not as though your eloquence would not grant something more to the older companions, but because your benefit lies open to all without envy. It would be enough for the young man, before the test of time, to be ranked among your own; send him back to us worthy both of our prayers and of your own reputation in letters. He brings with him a companion of the same age, who has equal zeal for letters, a nobleman himself and connected to us, whom we trust will be in no way inferior, even if he should fall far short of the others in wealth. LIBANIUS TO BASIL: I know that you will write this often: "Behold, another Cappadocian comes to you." For you will send many, I think, always and everywhere, using against me these encomia, stirring up both fathers and sons. But what happened concerning your fine letter is not fine to pass over in silence.

Some sat near me, among those who had been present from the beginning, not a few others, and the altogether excellent Alypius, that Hierocles' cousin. So when those who brought the letter gave it, having gone through it in complete silence, "We have been defeated," I said, smiling and rejoicing at the same time. "And what victory have you been defeated in," they asked, "and how is it that you are not pained at being defeated?" "In the beauty of letters," I said, "I have been defeated, but Basil has prevailed. The man is a friend, and for this reason I rejoice." When I said this, they wished to learn from the letters themselves about the victory. And Alypius read, and those present listened, and a verdict was brought that I had not been mistaken. And the one who read went out with the letters, I think, to show them also to others, and with difficulty gave them back. Write therefore similar things and win. For this is to defeat me. And you rightly conjecture that our affairs are not transacted with money, but for one who is unable to give, the wish to receive suffices. For if I perceive someone in poverty who is a lover of learning, he is preferred before the wealthy. Yet we have not experienced such teachers, but nothing prevents us from being better in this respect. Therefore let no poor person hesitate to come here, if he possesses only that one thing: the ability to toil. Basil to Libanius: What would a sophist man not say, and a sophist such as this, for whom it is acknowledged to be a property of his art both to make great things small, whenever he wishes, and to invest small things with greatness? Just such a thing you have displayed concerning us.

For that filthy letter—as you who are fastidious about style would call it—which was no more tolerable than this one in your hands, you so exalted in your speech that you pretended to be defeated by it and to yield to us the primacy in writing, doing the same thing as fathers at play when they grant their own victories to their children to boast in, neither harming themselves in any way nor fostering the children's love of honor. In truth, your speech gave immense pleasure in this game with us, as if some Polydamas or Milo were declining the contest of the pancratium or wrestling against me personally; for after much consideration I found no example of strength such that those who seek the extremes of speech would here admire your power more for having been able to descend to such games with us than if you were leading the barbarian sailing beyond Athos. But we, O admirable one, consort with Moses and Elijah and those blessed men who speak to us in their barbarian tongue, uttering their thoughts—true in meaning but ignorant in expression, as these very things show. For if we had learned anything from you, it has been worn away by time.

We had forgotten. But he kept writing to us, making other subjects for letters, which will both show you and not convict us. I have already presented the son of Anysius to you as my own son. But if he is my child, the child belongs to the father, a poor man from a poor man. And what is said is clear to a wise man and a sophist. LIBANIUS TO BASIL: If you had considered for a very long time how you might best accompany my writings about your letters with your own letters, you could not have done it better, in my opinion, than by writing such things as you have now written. For you call me a sophist, and you say that it is the mark of such a man to be able to make small things great, and great things small. And indeed you say that you intended my letter to show that yours is not beautiful, and that it is no better than the one you have now sent, and that altogether there is no power of words in you, since the books now in your hands do not produce this, and the words you had before have flowed away. And in attempting to persuade us of this, you have made this letter, which you call bad, so beautiful that those present could not help leaping up as it was read. I was therefore amazed that, in attempting to destroy the former letter by saying that it resembled this one, you have adorned it. But the one who intended this ought to have made this letter a starting point for slandering the former. But it was not, I think, in your nature to wrong the truth. And it would have been wronged if you had written deliberately worse and not used what exists. It would therefore be characteristic of the same man neither to blame what it is right to praise, lest the matter, by making you try to make great things small, cast you among the sophists.

As for the books you say are inferior in style but superior in thought, keep them, and no one prevents you. As for what is always ours, but formerly yours, the roots remain and will remain as long as you exist, and no time will ever cut them out, not even if you water them least of all. Libanius to Basil: You have not yet relaxed my grief, so that I tremble while writing in the midst of it. If you have relaxed it, why do you not write, O best one? But if you still hold it back—which is alien to every rational soul and to your own—you who proclaim that one should not keep grief for many suns have kept it. Or perhaps you wish to punish me by depriving me of your honey-sweet voice? Do not do so, O noble one, but become gentle and grant me enjoyment of your all-golden tongue. Basil to Libanius: Those who have an affinity for the rose, as is likely for lovers of beauty, do not even dislike the thorns from which the flower grows. And I heard someone joking about this concerning them—or perhaps even being serious—that nature, as it were, affixed those fine thorns as ticklings for the lovers of the flower. What then does the rose, introduced into the letters, mean to me? Surely you need not be taught, remembering your letter, which brought us the flower of the rose, the spring of eloquence, but was barbed with certain reproaches and accusations against us. But for me, even the thorn of your roses is pleasant, kindling a greater longing for friendship.

If these things are from a rather idle tongue, who would you be to sharpen it? For in your mouth dwell springs of words superior to the flow of streams, while we, if we are not watered daily, are left with silence. Basilius to Libanius: That I do not write continuously to your learning is compelled by both fear and ignorance, but that you persist in silence with the utmost endurance—what will exempt that from blame? If someone were to consider that you, who live in words, are hesitant to write letters, he will condemn you for forgetfulness toward us. For one to whom speaking is easy, writing is not unprepared. And one who possesses these things and then is silent clearly does so out of disdain or forgetfulness. I, however, will repay your silence with a greeting. So farewell, most honored one, and write if you wish, and do not write if that is pleasing to you. Libanius to Basilius: I think I need an apology more for not having begun to write to you long ago than a plea of excuse now for having begun to do so. For I am that man who runs to meet you whenever you appear, and who most gladly offers his ears to the stream of your tongue, rejoicing while you speak, and parting with difficulty, and saying to my companions: "This man is as much more beautiful than the daughters of Achelous as he charms as they do, but does not harm as they do. And it is not a small thing that he does not harm, but that the limbs of this man are a gain for the one who receives them." So for one who is thus disposed, who thinks he is loved, and who seems to speak but does not dare to write—this would be the utmost idleness and at the same time a self-inflicted loss. For it is clear that he will repay my small and poor letter with a good and great one, and will surely see to it that you do not wrong me a second time.

I think many will cry out at the word and stand around the facts shouting: "Has Basil done any wrong, even a small one? Then so have Aeacus and Minos and this one's brother." I grant you that you have conquered in all other respects. Who sees you and does not envy? But I will remind you of one thing in which you have erred toward us, and persuade those who are indignant not to shout. No one who came to you and promised a favor which it was easiest to give went away unsuccessful. I am therefore among those who asked for a favor but did not receive it. What then did I ask? Often meeting you in the Strategion, I wished through your wisdom to enter into the depth of Homer's madness. "But if the whole is not possible, at least introduce us to a part of the portion." I desired a part in which, when the Greeks were faring badly, Agamemnon, whom he insulted, appeases with gifts. When I said this, you laughed, not being able to deny that you could if you wished, but not willing to give. Do I seem to you and to those who are indignant that I said you do wrong to have been wronged?

Libanius to Basil: If we have added anything to the learning of the young men you sent, you yourself will judge. But I hope that this, even if small, will take on the appearance of something great because of your friendship toward us. As for what you praise before their learning—their self-control and their not surrendering their souls to base pleasures—they have taken full care of this and conducted themselves, as was fitting, mindful of the one who sent them. So receive what is your own and praise those who have adorned both you and me by their conduct. To urge you to help would be like urging a father to help his children. Libanius to Basil: Every bishop is a hard thing to catch; but you, as much as you surpass the others in learning, to that extent you also give me fear that you might somehow deny my request. And since I need beams—another sophist, not needing them, would say "poles" or "stakes," preening himself on his little phrases rather than on the need—I, if you do not provide them, will spend the winter in the open air. Basil to Libanius: If this "catching" is called "grízein" and the word has the meaning which your sophistry has set before us from the inner sanctum of Plato, consider, O admirable one, who is harder to catch: we, who are thus fenced about by epistolary power, or the race of sophists, whose craft is to tax words? Which bishop has put a tariff on words? Which has made his students mercenary? You are the ones who put words up for sale like the boilers of honey-cakes offer their honey-cakes. Do you see how you have stirred even the old man to prance?

I, for my part, ordered that for you, who parade about with your declamations, as many couches be provided as the soldiers who fought at Thermopylae, all of them tall, according to your Homer "long-shadowed," though it was not Homer who promised to restore them. Libanius to Basil: Will you not cease, Basil, filling this sacred precinct of the Muses full of Cappadocians, and these reeking of fish-brine and snow and all such fine things from there? They have all but made me a Cappadocian too, always singing "I bow to you" to me. Yet I must endure it because Basil commands. Know then that I am closely examining the ways of the country, and I will transform the men by the nobility and harmony of my own Calliope, so that they may appear to you as doves instead of pigeons. Basil to Libanius: Your ill-humor is dissolved. Let this be the preamble of the letter. But you mock and disparage our affairs, whether in jest or in earnest. Why did you mention snow or fish-brine, when you could take delight in our jests? I, Libanius, to make you laugh broadly, wrote this letter while hidden under a covering of snow, and when you receive it, touching it with your hands you will know how cold it is, and it characterizes the sender, who lurks indoors and cannot peep out of his chambers. For we possess our houses as tombs, until spring comes and brings us, who are as dead, back to life again, as it grants existence to plants. Basil to Libanius

Many who have met us from your region have admired your excellence in words. For they said that a certain display had occurred, exceedingly brilliant, and it was a contest, as they claimed, of the greatest magnitude, so that everyone rushed together and no one else appeared in the city except Libanius contending and every age listening. For no one deemed it right to be outside the contests, not one attending with the weight of rank, not one distinguished in military rolls, not one occupied with vulgar crafts. And even women were hastening to be present at the contests. What then was the contest? What was the speech that gathered the universal assembly? And they reported to me that the speech was composed in the manner of a difficult man. Do not hesitate to send me this speech, so admired, so that I too might be a praiser of your words. For who would I be, praising Libanius even apart from his works, now that I have found a subject for praise? LIBANIUS TO BASIL: Behold, I have sent the speech, drenched in sweat. For how could I not, sending the speech to such a man, who is able to show that the wisdom of Plato and the power of Demosthenes are vainly celebrated in comparison with his own facility in words? But my own work is such as a gnat compared to an elephant. Hence I shudder and tremble, reckoning the day on which you will examine the speeches; I have almost lost my mind.

I have read the speech, most wise one, and I have marveled exceedingly. O Muses and Words and Athens, what gifts you bestow upon your lovers! What fruits do those who have spent even a short time with you carry away! O of the abundant-flowing spring, what men it has shown those who draw from it! For I seemed to see the man himself in the speech, conversing with the talkative woman. For Libanius wrote a living speech upon the earth, he who alone granted soul to words. Libanius to Basil: Now I know that I am what I am said to be; for with Basil praising me, I hold the victory over all. And having received your vote, it is permitted to me to walk with a haughty gait, like some boastful man despising everyone. Since, then, a speech on drunkenness has been composed by you as well, we wish to come upon this. But I do not wish to say something clever, but the speech when seen will teach me the art of speaking. Libanius to Basil: Indeed, Basil, do you not dwell in Athens and have you forgotten yourself? For the children of the Caesareans were not able to hear these things. For my tongue was not accustomed to these things, but as if traversing some cliff, struck by the novelty of the words, it said to me, its father: "Father, you did not teach me. This man is Homer, but Plato, but Aristotle, but Susarion who knows everything." And these things the tongue said; but may it be, Basil, that you praise us with such things. Basil to Libanius

We receive what you write with joy, but when called upon to reply to what you write, it is a struggle. For what could we say to such an Atticizing tongue, except that I am a disciple of fishermen, I confess and I love? LIBANIUS TO BASIL: What has happened that Basil has taken offense at the letter, the hallmark of philosophy? We were taught to play by you, yet the playthings are solemn and befitting, as it were, gray hair. But by friendship itself and our common pursuits, resolve for me the despondency which the letter has engendered in me... being no different. LIBANIUS TO BASIL: O those times when we were everything to each other. Now we have been bitterly separated; you have each other, but I have no one like you in your stead. I hear that Alcimus dares the deeds of the young in old age and flies to Rome, having imposed upon you the burden of being with the children. But you, being gentle in other respects, will bear this not with difficulty, since you did not find it difficult to write to us earlier. BASIL TO LIBANIUS: You, having enclosed the entire art of the ancients in your own mind, are so silent as to give us no profit even in letters. But I, if the art of Daedalus were safe, would have come to you, having fashioned an Icarus wing. Yet since it is not possible to trust wax to the sun, instead of Icarus' wings I send you words showing our friendship. And the nature of words reveals the passions of the soul. And these are words. But you guide them wherever you wish, and having acquired such power, you are silent. But transfer also to us the streams of words from your mouth.

From his letter to Julian the Apostate: According to the divinely allotted blameless faith of Christians, I confess and affirm that I believe in one God the Father Almighty, God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit; one God, I worship and glorify the three. I also confess the incarnate economy of the Son and the holy Mary who bore him in the flesh as Theotokos. I also accept the holy Apostles, prophets, and martyrs, and I invoke them in supplication to God, that through them, that is through their mediation, the benevolent God may be gracious to me and that a ransom for my transgressions may be given to me; hence I also honor and venerate the images of their likenesses, these being especially handed down from the holy Apostles and not forbidden, but depicted in all our churches. To Apollinarius: To my most reverend master Apollinarius, Basil. Previously we wrote to you about obscure matters in the Scriptures and rejoiced in what

You sent also the promises you made. But now a greater concern for greater matters has come upon us, for which we have no one else among men of the present day such as you, both in knowledge and in speech, precise and yet approachable, whom God has granted us as a partner and protector. Since, therefore, those who throw everything into confusion and have filled the world with words and disputes have cast out the term "substance" as foreign to the divine scriptures, deign to indicate to us how the Fathers used it and whether you have found it nowhere in Scripture. For they reject "daily bread" and "the chosen people" and anything of that sort as having nothing in common. Then, however, also concerning the term "homoousios" itself (on account of which I think they are constructing these arguments, deeply disparaging substance in order to leave no room for homoousios), be willing to discuss with us more fully what meaning it has and how it might be soundly said of those things for which neither a common genus above is observed nor a material substrate preexists, nor a division of the prior into the second. How, then, must one say that the Son is homoousios with the Father, without falling into any of the notions mentioned? Be willing to articulate this for us more fully. For we have supposed that whatever the substance of the Father is taken to be in hypothesis, that must necessarily be taken also for the Son. So that if one were to say that the substance of the Father is intelligible light, eternal, unbegotten, one will say that the substance of the Only-begotten is also intelligible light, eternal, begotten.

For such a concept, the term "exactly similar" seems to me more fitting than "homoousios." For light that has no difference from light in terms of more or less is not the same, because each exists in its own circumscription of essence, but it would, I think, be correctly said to be precisely and unalterably similar in essence. Therefore, whether we must discuss these concepts or grasp others greater, as a wise physician (for we have revealed to you what is in our heart), heal what is ailing, support what is unsound, and in every way confirm us. I greet the brothers with your reverence and ask that they pray with you for us, that we may be saved. Our companion Gregory, having chosen a life with his parents, lives with them. May you be preserved in health for as long as possible, benefiting us both by your prayers and your knowledge. To Basil from Apollinarius: You believe piously and inquire learnedly, and from us the goodwill is owed because of love, even if the adequacy of the argument does not follow, due both to our deficiency and to the transcendent nature of the matter. One essence is not said only by number, as you say, and by being in one circumscription, but also particularly of two men and of any other of those unified according to genus, so that by this, two or more are the same in essence, just as all men are Adam, being one, and David the son of David is the same as that one, just as you rightly say the Son is that which the Father is in essence.

For the Son would not otherwise be God, when one and only God, the Father, is acknowledged, just as in some sense there is one Adam, the founder of the human race, and one David, the founder of the royal line. By this reasoning, the notion of a single superior genus or a single underlying matter in the case of Father and Son will be removed from suspicion, when we adopt the characteristic of the highest principle as that of a founder, and the races descended from the founders as the only-begotten offspring from the single principle. For such things come only moderately into likeness. Just as there is no common genus above Adam, as divinely formed, and us, as born of humans, but he himself is the beginning of humans; nor is there a common matter of him and us, but he himself is the foundation of all humans. Nor, again, is there any prior conception of David and the race from David, insofar as he is David, since the particularity of David begins from David and the foundation of all those from him is himself; but these fall short because there are other commonalities of all humans with each other, such as those of brothers. In the case of Father and Son, however, there is no such thing, but the whole is Father as beginning and Son from the beginning. Therefore, there is no partition of the prior into the second, as with bodies, but a begetting. For the particularity of the Father is not partitioned into the Son, but that of the Son has emerged from that of the Father; the same in otherness and other in sameness, in that the Father is said to be in the Son and the Son in the Father. For neither will otherness simply preserve the truth of sonship, nor will sameness preserve the undividedness of the hypostasis, but each is interwoven and unitary.

The same in a different way, and different in the same way, so that one might force the words, which do not reach the manifestation, to confirm for us the concept of the Lord, both in presenting the Father as greater in equality, and the Son as having equality in subordination—which he taught us to conceive of the Son as a light that is of the same kind but diminished, not altering the substance, but contemplating the same as both surpassing and in diminution. For those who have not admitted the substance in any identity, bringing the likeness from outside, add it to the Son, which indeed extends even to humans who are made like God. But those who know the likeness befitting creatures join the Son to the Father in identity, but in a diminished identity, so that he is not the Father himself or a part of the Father, which is possibly presented by the phrase "another Son," thus God, not as that one, but as from that one, not the prototype, but the image. This one is homoousios in a way that is preeminent and peculiar beyond all, not as things of the same kind, not as things divided, but as the one and only offspring from the one genus and species of the divinity, by an indivisible and incorporeal procession, according to which the begetter, remaining in the generative property, proceeded into the generative property.

To my master, the most reverend brother Apollinarius, Basil. We have missed the opportunities by which we might have addressed your reverence, although we would gladly have written in response to those letters. For we perceived that you were keeping your pleasure in those matters in silence. Indeed, you seemed to us to be one who has understanding, while the shadows of the interpreters dart about, so securely do you guide the exposition from a firm foundation of thought. And now even more the desire for knowledge of the divine scriptures touches my soul. I hesitate, however, to put before you some of the things that perplex me, lest I seem to indulge in boldness beyond measure. But again, I cannot bear to be silent, being in travail and desiring to receive more. Therefore, it seemed best to me to ask you, O admirable one, whether you permit us to ask something of the things that perplex us, or whether we must keep quiet. Whichever you answer, we will observe from now on. May we have you strong, cheerful, and praying for us always. To my master, the most beloved brother Basil, Apollinarius sends greetings in the Lord. Where was I myself, master, and where was the most beloved voice and the customary letter? Why do you not defend us when present, or even when absent exhort us, when such a war against piety has broken out and we are, as it were, in the midst of the battle line, shouting to our comrades because of the violence from the enemies? But we do not even know how to seek you.

we cannot even find where you are staying. For I sought you in Cappadocia, since those who met you in Pontus reported that you had promised to return quickly, but I did not find you where I expected. Now, hearing that you are still in the same region, I immediately entrusted the letter to the messenger. When you receive it, do not refrain from replying, even though this messenger is also traveling. Know that in the meantime there has been an arrival of bishops from Egypt, and letters were circulated consistent with ancient writings, both with the divine scriptures themselves and with those written in accordance with the consensus of the divine at Nicaea. A repetition of these same points with explanation was necessary because of the unsound misinterpretation of the texts introduced by those who formerly openly opposed them, but now have contrived their opposition under the guise of interpretation; there was the malicious removal of the homoousion, on the grounds that it should not be understood in any Greek negation; and the introduction of the homoion in substance as a substitute for the homoousion, which was vulgarly named and maliciously conceived, since similarity is among things in substance, not of substantial things, so that a substance similar in this way might be understood, as a statue might be to a king. In response to these things, it was written by those who know and wish to be pious, that the homoousion does not indicate something similar to God, but God, just as a genuine offspring is of the same substance as the parent. And the matter concerning the Spirit was also introduced, as it is placed by the Fathers in the same faith as God and the Son, that it is in the same divinity.

Therefore, who was it fitting to succeed to this embassy of piety if not the most zealous one together with my master Gregory, who himself writes from nowhere and indicates absolutely nothing? Farewell, most longed-for master. Basilius to the great Emperor Theodosius: A calamity has befallen our region, not from a bodily mishap, but from an overflow of waters. From what source shall I explain this? There was a great accumulation of snow in our lake. But before it was frozen into ice, a warm wind and a southern rain fell upon it. Thus, with the sudden melting, uncontrollable streams arose, mingling with the perennial river, which, being a saltwater channel, exceeds both tongue and eye. This is the river that borders us: it gushes forth from the land of the Armenians and empties into the most sacred lake of the Sebastenes, into which the renowned and noble forty soldiers of Christ were cast when a terrible north wind blew. And from there (receive me speaking the truth, most powerful one), this river, surrounding us like a hostile nation, frightens us not a little with its terrors. For, being not yet fordable by foot in any manner or time, it does not allow the necessary and beneficial homelands to transport the provisions that are traded. I speak of the Galatians, Paphlagonians, and Hellenopontians, through whom and from whom the necessities come to us, especially the abundance of bread, since the surrounding land is frosty and bound by the wrath of the surrounding air, of lightning, thunder, hail, and rain-destroyed fury. Nor does the disdain of the ancestral pain of Mount Argaeus threaten us slightly.

Therefore, most excellent one, having been prevailed upon, be willing to show ambition for your land that bears tribute, so that, having adapted it for crossing by a bridge in abundance, you may show him to be a new traveler of the Red Sea. For the Lord, pitying the much-lamented life of the Jews, deemed it good for them to walk with dry feet as on dry land in the Red Sea, having given them Moses as a guide. Great was the manner of the river for us: for men it became destruction, while it swelled upward and oppressed all grass-bearing land, and from the mud the field being choked, the plowing ox and all the beasts of burden of the surrounding land must starve. And if it were a man wronging a man, we would not cease to use the courts. But for a great river that does not obey laws, what could one adapt? Therefore you must pray, most excellent one, who are able to stem the danger of travelers in a single moment of time. BASIL TO URBICIUS THE MONK ON CONTINENCE You do well to set straight boundaries for us, so that we may see not only continence but also its fruit. Its fruit, then, is participation in God. For not being corrupted is to partake of God, just as being corrupted is participation in life. For continence is denial of the body and confession toward God. It departs from everything mortal, having the Spirit of God as a body, as it were, and makes one mingle with God, having neither jealousy nor envy. For he who loves a body is begrudged by another; but he who has not taken the disease of corruption into his heart is henceforth strong for every labor, though dead in body, yet living in incorruption.

And to me, as I consider it fully, self-control seems to be God, because He desires nothing, but has everything in Himself, and reaches out for nothing, nor has any passion concerning the eyes or the ears, but being without need, He is completely full. Desire is a sickness of the soul, while health is self-control. And one must not regard self-control only in one form, such as concerning sexual matters, but also concerning all other things which the soul desires wrongly, not being content with necessities: envy arises because of gold, and countless injustices because of other desires. And not getting drunk is self-control, and not bursting from overfilling. And mastering the body is self-control, and ruling over evil thoughts. How often has a thought, being neither good nor true, disturbed the soul and divided the heart into many empty concerns? Self-control frees entirely, while healing and being a power; for it does not teach temperance, but provides it. Self-control is a grace of God. Jesus appeared as self-control, becoming light upon both land and sea. For neither did the earth bear him nor the seas, but just as he walked upon the sea, so he did not weigh down the earth. For if dying comes from being corrupted, and not dying comes from having no corruption, then Jesus was working divinity, not mortality. He ate and drank in a unique way, not excreting the food; so great was the power of self-control in him that the food was not corrupted in him, since he himself had no corruption. If there is even a little self-control in us, we are above all things. For we have heard of angels who, becoming incontinent, were dragged down from heaven because of desire.

They were captured, not descended. For what was that disease doing there, if there was not some such eye there? That is why I said: If we have a little self-control and do not fall in love with this life, but with the higher ages, we shall be found there where we send our mind. For this seems to be an eye capable of seeing the invisible. For it is said: Mind sees and mind hears. I have written these things to you, which seem few but are many, because each word is a thought, and I know that when you read them you will perceive it.