In HexameronSancti Basilii Latina Metaphrasis

EUSTATHIUS'S LATIN METAPHRASIS OF ST. BASIL'S HEXAEMERON.

Eustathius to his sister Syncletica, deaconess, greeting in Christ.

The devout and at the same time studious mind of your sisterhood, while it desires to know the fullness of the heavenly Scriptures, searching through all the ecclesiastical libraries and those who founded them by frequent reading, has come at last to the Hexaemeron of the holy and venerable bishop Basil, written in the Greek tongue; and while it strives to commit it to the records of the Latin language, it has judged that this task should be entrusted to me. But I, considering that you have commanded this out of love rather than judgment, was indeed hastening to obey the simple orders, admonished by your charity; but I did not dare to promise, beholding my own infancy. And so, distracted by twofold thought, I did not know what to do: for I was afraid that, if I preferred to refuse, I would offend the mind of one who presumed piously of me; but if to obey, that I could not fulfill the office undertaken. Since this was so, I decided rather to offer my labor faithfully than to excuse my speech stubbornly: trusting that if I have displeased, you will grant pardon for what you commanded. For you will impute what has come of it not to my fault but to your own judgment: for me it is enough to have carried out the commands.

BOOK ONE OF THE HEXAEMERON.

i. In the beginning God made heaven and earth. About to narrate the composition of the world, he took as his opening the adornment of the works done, making this the beginning of his discourse—a fitting exordium. For the making of heaven and earth must be reported as formed not of itself, as some have opined, but as having received from God the causes of its own substance. What kind of hearing, then, is worthy of the magnitude of the things related, and how should the mind be equipped for the perception of such matters? Surely one that is free from carnal vices and scarcely clouded by worldly troubles, and indeed diligent and skilled and looking about on all sides, so that it may be able to draw in a worthy notion of God. But before we dispute about the subtlety of the words and examine how great is the meaning of these utterances, let us consider who it is that addresses us. For although we cannot reach the height of the historian's heart because of the weakness of our own intellect, nevertheless, once the pre-eminence of the speaker has been examined, we shall be led of our own accord to agree with what has been said. It is Moses, then, who is the author of this scripture—that Moses who is said to have been comely before God while he still hung upon his mother's breasts, whom the daughter of Pharaoh adopted and generously educated in royal fashion, with the philosophers of the Egyptians appointed as his teachers of learning (Act.

who despised the arrogance of tyranny and turned to the humility of his own citizens, content rather to be afflicted with the people of God than to reap the temporal fruit of sin. He received his love of justice from nature itself, since, before he took up the leadership of the people, out of a natural hatred of wickedness he seems to have pursued the wicked even to death. He was driven out by those whom he himself had helped; and, most willingly leaving behind the tumults of Egypt, he set out for Ethiopia, and there, free from other business, devoting forty years to the contemplation of things, and in the eightieth year of his age, he saw God, as it was possible for a man to see, or rather as it was permitted to him beyond others, according to the testimony of God himself: If there be a prophet among you, I the Lord will be known to him in a vision, and I will speak to him in a dream; but not so my servant Moses, who is faithful in all my house. I will speak with him mouth to mouth, and in a form, and not by a figure. So then this man, who in obtaining the present sight of God had been made equal to the angels, sets before us what he heard from God. Let us therefore hear the truth of his words, not in the persuasion of human wisdom, but in the most approved utterances of spiritual teaching, whose end is not the praise of the hearers, but the salvation of the learners.

In the beginning God made heaven and earth. The wonder of my mind therefore delays my speech: as I consider what I should say first, or from where I should take the beginning of my narrative—whether I should refute the vanity of the worldly, or rather proclaim the truth of our own. The philosophers of the Greeks disputed very many things about the nature of things, but no account among them is held fixed and stable, the earlier always being overthrown by the later. And it is of no profit to us to refute their views, since they are sufficient for their own destruction. Those who could not know God did not in any way concede that wisdom presides over the affairs of mortals, but, having slipped down through their familiar ignorance, they enclosed all things in various definitions. For this reason many of them reduced themselves to confused and formless matter, reckoning the elements of the world to be the causes of all things. Others handed down that atoms, and indivisible bodies, and pores, and passages contain the nature of visible things: at one time those light and round corpuscles coming together, at another withdrawing from one another and being separated, they accomplish births and deaths, and in more enduring bodies the combination of atoms, once situated there, expresses the causes of permanence more strongly. Truly those who describe these things weave a spider's web, and they who ascribe such empty and vain principles to heaven, earth, and sea. For they did not know how to say: In the beginning God made heaven and earth; therefore [they held that all things came to be] without governance and direction, and by chance.

They said that all things are driven and carried along by the error of impiety implanted in them. So that we too might not suffer this, the expounder of the world's making, at the very first praises of his narrative, illuminating our senses with the mention of God, said: In the beginning God made. How good is the order that he placed the beginning first: so that they might not think the world unbegotten. Then he added that he made it: to show that the creature is a work, a tiny part of the Creator's power. For just as a potter, once the vessels are formed, can lose neither his craft nor his power, so God, the craftsman of things, possessing a power not sufficient for one work alone but wholly exceeding it in infinity, by a single moment of his own will built up the magnitude of those things which are seen. But if the world both has a beginning and was made, ask who gave it its beginning, and who is its fabricator. Lest perhaps, examining this by human thought, you should wander from the path of truth, he anticipated us, instructing us with teachings, and fixing in our minds, as it were the seal of a certain guard, he at once inserted the venerable name of God, saying: In the beginning God made. Therefore the blessed nature, and the rich goodness, and the beauty most beloved of all who have reason, and exceedingly dear, the prince of all things that are, the fountain of life, the intelligible light, the inaccessible wisdom, he himself made in the beginning heaven and earth.

Do not think, then, O man, that the things which are seen are uncreated or without providence; nor, because the things that move in the sky run about around you, nor because the beginning of that very circuit is not held as comprehensible by our senses, should you therefore believe that the nature of the revolving bodies is without a beginning. For neither should we assert that this circle—that is, this flat and round figure, which is contained under a single point—is not composed, because it escapes our intellect, and we cannot find whence it began or whither it has fallen back; nor, because it wholly eludes our senses, will it therefore truly be thought to have begun from something less. So too, you should not be deceived into thinking that the world is without a beginning or a limit because the things you see revolving around are carried in themselves, and because their flat surface has no intervening obstacles. For the figure of this world passes away (1 Cor 7:31), and heaven and earth will pass away (Matt 24:31); but the proclamation of all the commandments concerning the consummation of the age, and concerning the reformation of the world, according to the marking of spiritual teaching, is declared from these things which have been briefly handed down in the present. In the beginning God made heaven and earth. All things that have begun in time must necessarily be ended in time. If there is a temporal beginning, do not doubt concerning the end. Geometric and arithmetic discipline, and fabricated writings, and fabulous astrology—that is, the most occupied vanity.

To what end, then, must this be brought, when those who have devoted themselves to the investigation of the things mentioned declare that this visible world is coeternal with God, the creator of all things, referring to His glory this bounded orb and its composite body—which is the incomprehensible and invisible nature? They could not even perceive this: that for whatever thing its individual members are subject to dissolution and corruption, its whole body must necessarily perish by the same falls. But they have vanished away in their thoughts to such a degree, and their foolish heart has been blinded, and saying that they were wise, they became utterly foolish (Rom. 1:21-22), that even certain of them dare to affirm that the pole is eternal with God, and is held to be without beginning and end, and that it is the author and dispenser of things established in their parts.

For them, when or where shall secular wisdom bring the fear of future condemnation—they who, gazing so sharply upon the most empty things, have been spontaneously blinded to conceiving the prudence of truth? Others count out the intervals of the stars, and describe their northern stars that always shine, and how many of those that move beneath the southern axis are indeed beheld by certain men, but are unknown to us.

Or the northern latitude, and likewise the zodiac circle, dividing them into a thousand intervals, and closely observing the courses of the stars, their enclosures, and the principal motions of all things, and after how much time each of the planets is accustomed to complete its own circuit: they were utterly unable to discover the one principle of all things, so as to say that God is the maker of the whole world, and that by just judgment he will render to each a recompense worthy of his deeds. Nor did they, with a view to the future examination, conceive a fitting thought concerning the end of all things: considering that the world too must needs be reformed, if the state of souls is to be transferred to another scheme of life. For just as the present life has a nature akin to this world, so too the future converse of souls will take on a form familiar to its own kind. But they are so far from believing that these things are true that they laugh at us everywhere, when we preach the consummation of this world and the reformation of the age. Indeed, since the first principles of all things are naturally so, for this reason the writer, discoursing on those things which began in time, premised this utterance, saying: In the beginning he made.

For there was, as you see, a certain substance before this world, contemplable indeed by our intellect, but left unheard of, for the reason that it could not easily be comprehended by those who were being instructed, on account of the smallness of their senses. There was a most ancient ordering of creation, suited to the powers that are outside the world, arisen without time, everlasting and proper to itself, in which God the founder of all things established all his works, that is, the intelligible light befitting the blessedness of those who love the Lord. I mean the rational and invisible natures, and the adornment of all intelligible things, which exceed the capacity of our mind, whose names it is not even possible to find. It must be known that these filled the substance of the invisible world, as Paul teaches us, saying: Because in him all things were created, whether visible or invisible, whether thrones, or dominions, or principalities, or powers, or virtues (Col. 1:16), or the armies of angels, or the assemblies of archangels. But when it was necessary that this world be brought in upon things, which is chiefly a chastening and instruction of human souls, and then a fitting dwelling for all things that rise and set, then also the course of time is recognized as begotten together with the world itself and with the living things that are in it, and it is ever pressed on and flows away, and never perceives an end of its passing.

Or do we not say that time is of such a kind that the part of it which has been measured out is not seen, while the part which is to come has not yet arrived, and the part which is at hand slips away before it becomes known to our senses? Such also is the nature of things that are born, namely either growing or diminishing, whose stability and foundation have nothing certain. Therefore the bodies of living creatures and of trees were alike, as if carried off by the force of some torrent to an implanted necessity, and subjected to that motion which leads to births and deaths and is contained by the nature of time, which possesses a kindred property with mutable things. Hence the narrator, beginning consequently, clearly teaches us about the construction of the world, that God made it in the beginning. But the beginning is that which pertains to time, not that which looks to antiquity, which is prior to all things. Therefore he did not say, "In the beginning God made," according to that antiquity, but after those invisible and intelligible things he recounts the beginning of the generation of those things which are seen and comprehended by sense. For a beginning is spoken of, and also a first motion: just as the beginning of a right path is to do justly (Prov. 16:5). For by just works we are stirred to live blessedly. A beginning is also spoken of for that thing which is made from some underlying matter, as in houses the foundation, in ships the keel, and according to what was said: The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom (Prov. 1:7).

For indeed, as a kind of bulwark and support for the firmness of faith, religion is always set forth together with fear. But also the first part of things that are to be built is called the beginning, as the wisdom of Bezalel in relation to the adornment of the tabernacle. And often the good outcome of undertakings becomes the beginning of actions, as in the giving of mercy the prosperity of God follows, and in the working of virtues that end is held which has been placed in the promises.

Therefore, since "beginning" has been named so many times, consider whether the present word is not suited to all the things signified. For from that time when the founding of the world began, it is possible for you to say, if by going back from present things to past things you inquire into the principal day of the world's creation, whence the first motion came to time. Then, because heaven and earth have been founded as a kind of seat and barrier, and because the Word is the craftsman who accomplished the adornment of all things that are seen, as the wording of the beginning that has been related shows; and because the world was not formed without reason or in vain. Indeed, it was going to provide a useful and necessary outcome for things, if truly, as we have said, it granted to our mind the instruction of rational souls and the teaching of the divine notion through these visible and sensible things, guiding us, so to speak, by the hand, so that we might more easily contemplate invisible things, as the Apostle says: That his invisible things, from the composition of the world, are understood and seen through the things that have been made (Rom. 1:20).

But perhaps this was said on account of the swiftness of the creation, which was constructed without any moment of time: In the beginning he made; since the beginning is a certain indivisible and indistinct thing. For just as the beginning of a road is not yet a road, and the beginning of a house is not yet a house, so too the beginning of time is not yet full time, but not even a small part of time. But if perhaps someone contentious should say that the beginning is time, let him know that this will be divided into multiple portions, that is, into first, middle, and last. But to seek the beginning of the beginning is altogether ridiculous and absurd. And one who divides the beginning will necessarily make two parts out of one, or rather many; since whatever that is which has been divided is always without doubt split into two portions. Therefore, so that we might be taught that the world subsisted without time, together with God's will, he said: In the beginning he made. Explaining this matter more plainly, certain interpreters said: God made in summary, that is, briefly and suddenly. Therefore, concerning the beginning, let it suffice to have discussed thus far a few things out of many.

Indeed, it must be known that of all arts, some are called productive, some practical, and some contemplative. Of the contemplative arts, the end is the mind's intent alone; of the practical, the motion of the body itself, which, when it has ceased, leaves nothing behind, nor is it further displayed to onlookers. For of dancing and songs there is no product, but the whole operation is consumed in itself. In the productive arts, however, even if the labor and activity have ceased, their work is nevertheless manifest, as in carpentry, architecture, weaving, and the like, whose craftsman, though he be not present, the principle of the art itself nevertheless appears, and from the work seen we can admire the skill of each craftsman. Therefore, so that it might be certain that the world was made by art—the world which is exposed to the sight of all, so that through it the wisdom of its Maker might be known—Moses used no other word, but said: In the beginning God made. He did not say "constructed" or "composed," but "made." Although some who have been forestalled by a vain opinion, saying that the world is eternal with God, have in no way conceded that it was cast forth by him, but [claim] that it is, as it were, a certain shadow of the divine power. For they say that it was composed of itself, and although they confess that God is held to be its author, they nevertheless confess it in such a way as to affirm that it proceeded without his will, as a shadow from a body, or a radiance from light.

Wishing therefore to correct an error of this kind, the prophet rather used this subtlety of words, saying: In the beginning God made, that is, he did not merely supply the cause for it to exist, but made it good for a useful purpose, wise for the best, powerful for the greatest. For when he says: Because he made, he undoubtedly declares a certain craftsman, who by the composition of individual members formed the world wholly fitting and harmonious to itself. In the beginning God made heaven and earth. From two therefore, the highest elements, he designates the substance of all things as constructed: assigning indeed to heaven the more worthy privileges, but establishing the earth in the second place of created things; and if there is anything else in between, it is made perfect together with these principal ones. Thus although nothing has been said of air, or fire, or water, you must nevertheless understand it by your own prudence. First indeed, because all things are mingled in all things. Since it is most certain that water, and air, and fire cohere with the earth: for fire is accustomed to be struck out by friction both from iron and from stones, which surely are born from the earth. And it is wonderful how, while the flame is hidden in the things mentioned, it is held harmless to bodies, but when it has been drawn out from outside, it devours the matter in which it had been kept.

The diggers of wells also show that the nature of waters lies beneath the veins of the earth; and we can recognize from this that air is mixed in with them as well, because when the earth has been moistened and has received the tempering of the sun, it soon exhales very abundant vapors. Then, if heaven has naturally obtained the higher seat, while earth is held to be lower, it is for this reason that lighter things are borne toward heaven, while heavy things are carried down to earth. But things below and things above are contrary to one another. What is to be said, except that he who joined things most widely separated by the fellowship of a command also dispensed by his own will those things which the middle place of each element embraces? Do not therefore seek the reason for individual things, but those things also which Scripture has passed over in silence you will be able to discern from those which have been related.

In the beginning God made heaven and earth. Therefore the earthly substance, and the inquiry into individual things which have been exposed to our senses, make for us so long a discourse of narration that many more words must be discussed in an examination of this kind than in all the other things which can be explained. From this matter no advantage at all is conferred for building up the Church, but concerning the nature of heaven let us be content with those things which Isaiah related, who, using simple words, provided us a sufficient understanding of it, saying: Who established heaven like smoke.

(LI, 6), that is, he who in the composition of the heaven set in place a nature that is by no means strong and solid. Concerning its form as well, enough has been said by him, with the glorification of God. Who established the heaven like a vault (Isa. 40:22)? We urge that the same be understood concerning the earth: namely, that we by no means dispute what its substance is, nor, investigating with our thoughts, determine what lies beneath it, nor scrutinize a nature devoid of qualities and formless, but it is fitting for us only to know that all the things we see concerning the earth have been ordered for this sole purpose, that they might exist, by which things its substance might be filled out. And so you will reach no limit if you attempt to pursue each of its qualities in speech. For if you distinguish its blackness, its coldness, its weight, its density, and those qualities that are held to be comprehensible by the taste of the palate, there will be nothing at all that lies beneath the earth. Therefore, setting these aside, we do not urge that this be inquired into either: upon what the earth is firmly established. For the mind will be tormented, arriving at no certain outcome through its investigation of discordant reasoning. For whether you say that air lies beneath its foundation, you will surely fail in thought as to how a liquid and diffuse nature, pressed down by so great a weight, subsists and is not rather borne away, fleeing on all sides from the density of the earth, and always remaining higher while standing together with what presses upon it.

But if you have supposed that the water is subject to the stability of the earth, it is nonetheless necessary to ask how a mass so heavy and dense is not at all submerged beneath the water, but is supported by a weaker nature, with so great a weight placed upon it. For indeed the foundations of the water itself must also be sought, and again one must give up when you wish to find by what supporting prop the lowest bottom is held in place as it resists.

But if you have introduced some other, stronger body that prevents the earth from descending to the depths, you will have to think that this very body is likewise founded upon a similar barrier, which does not allow the things that are carried to fall lower. If we are able, by inventing something, to oppose this too, then again another defense lies beneath it; the mind will necessarily run to and fro, and so we will be led in thought to infinity, always seeking new foundations for the things that are found. And the further we proceed in discourse, the more we are compelled to bring in a sustaining power for the earth, one that can support all the things placed upon it at once. Therefore you must set limits to your inquiry, lest at some point your curiosity, handling things too incomprehensible, seem to be opposed by the word of Job, and you are asked, upon what are its circles fixed (Job 38:6). But even if you ever hear in the psalm: I have strengthened its columns (Ps. 74:4), understand the columns to be, of course, its composing power. But what was said: He founded it upon the seas (Ps.

XXIII. 2), what else does this signify, surely, than that the nature of the waters, poured around on every side, encompasses the orb of the earth? How then, when he says that water is fluid and is always accustomed to strive toward the lower places, is it suspended and not diffused into either part? Do you not also consider this, that the earth itself brings upon us no smaller, but even a greater, difficulty, since it is held balanced in the air by so great a weight of its own? But whether you grant that it is placed upon itself, or we say that it is borne upon the waters, it will be fitting that we never depart from the thought of piety, but confess that all things are held together by the power of the Creator. These things, then, we ought both to persuade to ourselves and to answer those who ask where the vast and insupportable weight of the earth is fixed, saying: For the ends of the earth are in the hand of God (Ps. XCIV, 4). This nonetheless will be able to be found either more fitting for us to believe or more useful for those who listen.

Although certain of the natural philosophers speculate from some such arrangement as this that the earth remains immobile. For they say that it is situated in the world, and, gathered on every side by equal spaces, has nothing up to its summit toward which it might be able to incline more, and for this reason it always remains in itself, and it is impossible that the equality surrounding it should allow it to find any momentum for bending itself into another place. But the earth holds the middle region not by chance or of its own accord, nor as sought by any lot, but by nature and necessarily its position has been decreed. For since the heavenly body has obtained a more distant seat in the upper regions, whatever weights, they say, we judge to descend from the highest places to the lowest are gathered into the middle place; and the whole body must be brought to those stations into which its individual parts have come together. But if stones and wood and all earthly things are always driven to the lower parts, there will without doubt be the proper and fitting position of the earth. But if anything of the lighter things is moved from the middle region, it is most certain that it is borne to the upper parts, since it is familiar to the heaviest things always to seek the lowest. But we call the lowest the middle place of the whole world. Do not therefore wonder if the earth nowhere inclines itself, since it has obtained the middle seat of all things, in which it must always stand, and in no way against nature be moved from its own bounds.

If, then, any of these things seems probable to you, you must refer miracles of this kind to the wisdom of the Creator, who so arranged them. For the dignity of the greatest things is not diminished if we uncover what their rationale is; or if it should turn out otherwise, I advise that the simplicity of faith be made preferable to other demonstrations.

ii. Concerning heaven too, if you say the same things, you will not sin, although the verbose disputation of the philosophers has discoursed at great length about the nature of heaven. Some of them assert that it is composed of the four elements, and that it is itself invisible, and that it has a part of earth because of the hardness implanted in it, and that it also has a fellowship with fire, from which it is thought to be, as it were, transparent; nonetheless it also embraces mixtures of the remaining portions. But some, despising this opinion, have devised by their own arbitrary judgment a certain fifth nature and added it to the composition of heaven: to them the ethereal body seems to be neither air nor earth nor water nor fire nor anything else that is believed to be simple, evidently for this reason, that it is familiar to simple bodies always to have direct motion, of which the lighter things always strive upward, while the heavier sink downward. But neither the upper nor the lower part of the earth, by reason of its revolving motion, maintains altogether the same interval in relation to the roundness of the circle. But those whose natural motions are accustomed to change, their qualities too must necessarily be changeable.

Although it is not possible for us to believe that heaven was composed of those principal bodies which are called elements, since things constructed from different matter do not agree with one another, nor can they maintain a harmonious motion without some force, inasmuch as individual parts have different impulses by nature, and things that are composed are held in constant motion with excessive labor. For one and the same principle cannot be in harmony with things that are dissimilar and opposed to one another, since things that are friendly to lighter bodies are judged contrary to heavier ones. For when we hasten toward things above and heavenly, we are pressed down by earthly weight. But when we are plunged toward things below, we do violence to fire, dragging it downward against its nature. Moreover, the separation of the elements, drawn into different parts, brings causes of ruin and dissolution. For whatever is attempted by violence while nature refuses is quickly dissipated, inasmuch as the individual parts by which the constructed mass subsists return to their own principle. On account of the necessities of these opinions, therefore, the sect of the earlier philosophers was split apart, and those who succeeded afterward hastened to put forward their own assertions, affirming, as we said, that a certain fifth nature of body underlies the substance of heaven and the stars. But another one, of the sharper sort, destroyed all these things that we have related, and seemed to commend his own doctrine.

If we preferred to recount each of these things, we would suffer an error like theirs. But let us leave them to be refuted by one another in turn, and, setting aside all their contention, let us follow Moses as he says: In the beginning God made heaven and earth, and let us glorify the best Creator of things most wisely formed, and from the beauty of visible things let us contemplate him who is exceedingly best. And from the magnitude of the circumscribed bodies let us measure him who is infinite and greatest, and who surpasses every thought of the human heart by the amplitude of his power. For although we do not at all comprehend the nature of creation, nevertheless that very thing which is faintly submitted to our intellect has so much of wonder in it that even the swiftest mind seems inferior to these things which are held to be slight in this world, and let us render the due praise to the Creator over all things more earnestly: to whom be glory and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.

BOOK TWO.

Having run through these brief remarks at the start, we have found the hidden depth of understanding to be so great that one might well despair altogether of what follows. For if such is the entrance of the saints, and the vestibule of the temple so adorned and splendid that the elegance of its beauty illuminates the eye of our mind, what must we judge the holy of holies to be? Who then would dare to handle things impossible, or who will look into things ineffable, whose very sight is inaccessible and whose understanding is beyond reason? Nevertheless, since before a just judge we are reckoned worthy of regard for our zeal for better things alone, let it not displease us to investigate. For although we are believed to be far removed from such dignity, yet if we follow the will of Scripture, with the Holy Spirit aiding us, we shall not be judged unworthy, and by the nod of heavenly grace we shall contribute some edification to the Church. "But the earth," it says, "was invisible and unformed." How then, when both elements, that is, heaven and earth, were established with equal honor, was heaven indeed perfect, while the earth was still unformed? Or what was the cause at all that it was not perfected and was not visible? Therefore the full formation of the earth is its own fertility, that is, the sprouting of all plants, and the abundance of fruit-bearing or unfruitful trees, and it flourishes with colors and fragrances, and the other things which, brought forth shortly afterward by divine command, adorned the earth.

Because nothing of these had yet come into being, the word of Scripture rightly called it unadorned. We shall rightly say this also of the heaven that was imperfect, since it had not yet taken on its proper adornment, inasmuch as it had not yet been illuminated by the brightness of the sun and moon, nor crowned with the choirs of the stars. Thus you will not seem to deviate from the truth if you also call the heaven unadorned. But it called the earth invisible for two reasons: either because the human who would behold it had not yet come forth, or because, lying hidden beneath the waters that then still covered it, it was in no way visible. For the waters had not yet been gathered into their proper receptacles, which the Lord, once gathered together, later called seas. So it is invisible either because it cannot be comprehended by carnal eyes, as our mind is, or because it is by nature visible but is hidden by some covering of a body drawn over it, like iron that lies in the deep. By this reasoning, then, we must think that the earth was here called invisible, inasmuch as it was covered by the surface of the waters. Then, because light had not yet been established, it is no wonder if it was held to be invisible, since the air itself, lacking splendor, was dark.

But the detractors of the truth, following the Scriptures with their own understanding not at all, and dragging their interpretation to their own arbitrary judgment, say that the matter of things is shown by words of this kind—a matter that was, as it were, by nature invisible and unarranged and formless, and deprived of every appearance and shape—which the Craftsman, having taken it up, formed according to his wisdom, and thus through it made all things that are seen. If we were to say that this matter is unbegotten, it will without doubt be judged equal to God in the honors that are to be ascribed to it, and it will be deemed worthy of the same privileges as he. And what could be more abominable and more wicked than that a confused and utterly deformed thing should be judged to possess equal dignity with God, who is wise and powerful and exceedingly good and the Creator of all things? Then, if it is of such a nature that it can receive all divine instruction, they will nonetheless seem to equate its substance with the powers of God—if, that is, the earth is able by itself to measure all the wisdom of God. But if matter is less than the divine power, then their discourse will be led into even more atrocious blasphemy; for on account of the scarcity of matter they attempt to assert that God is ineffective and idle in his works—they whom the neediness of human nature has taught to think such things.

Of course, since among us each art is practiced upon some material applied to it—as carpentry works on wood, smithing on iron—and in these things one element is the underlying material, another the form, and another what is formed from the form: for the material is what is taken from outside, the form is what is produced by the art, and the completion is what is composed from both, that is, from form and material—so they suppose also concerning the divine operation: that the shape was brought to the world from the wisdom of the Creator, but the material was supplied to the Creator from outside; and that thus the whole world was constructed, possessing its substance indeed sought from elsewhere, but its shape and figure received from the power of God. Hence the occasion is given to them for denying that God presides over the causes of the world, and for saying that, as if by some sort of artisans, only a tiny portion was contributed to the generation of things—being in no way able, because of the poverty of their understanding, to look up to the summit of truth. Nor did they consider that here indeed the art is known as applied after the material, for the sake of dispensing life. For the wool was prior, but the use of weaving was discovered afterward, so that what was lacking by nature might be supplied by art; wood also was prior, which the carpentering art afterward takes up and forms for necessary uses, conferring no small convenience upon us. For it gave the oar to sailors, the winnowing fan to farmers, and the spear to warriors.

But God, before the things that are seen came to be, comprehended all things in his mind, and wishing to bring into being the things that were not, considered what kind of world ought to exist, and brought forth matter congenial to its form. To heaven indeed he assigned the nature befitting it, and to the shape of the earth he furnished the substance familiar and due to it. Fire, water, and air he distinguished and willed, and reduced to the order that the reason of each demanded. But the whole world, though it was unlike itself and composed of diversity, he bound fast by certain inviolable bonds of concord and joined into one society and fitting together, so that even those things which stood far apart from one another in position are believed to be united by mutual mingling. Let them therefore cease from fabulous fictions and from the wretched sense of their own thoughts, and not lay hold of the power that is incomprehensible to the mind and ineffable by human speech.

God made heaven and earth, not each of them in half part, but the whole heaven and the whole earth, that is, substance itself comprehended together with form. For God is not an inventor of shapes, but the creator of all nature. For let them answer us how the operative power of God and the passible nature of matter agree with each other, of which the one, being the subject, provided only without figure; the other, possessing skill in shapes, ordered what was offered, so that what was lacking to each might be supplied from the other—to the Creator indeed, that he might have that in which he could show the knowledge of his art; to matter truly, that, with formlessness laid aside, it might assume a beautiful countenance. But concerning these things, enough so far; let us return to those things which we proposed: But the earth was invisible and unformed. When he said: In the beginning God made heaven and earth, he passed over many things, that is, fire, water, air, which certainly are certain passions begotten from those principal things, all of which, as being completive of the world, undoubtedly came forth together. But the historian deliberately omitted these things, that he might sharpen our heart to industry, to be grasped from few occasions, which makes us, thinking, investigate the things that are missing.

Therefore, since it had been said of the water not at all that he made it, but he said that the earth was held to be invisible, you must consider with yourself by what covering the earth, veiled, did not appear—which neither fire could hide, since it is certainly bright rather than dark, nor air cover, whose nature is certainly transparent, seeing that it clearly makes the appearance of all things manifest to those who look. It remains, therefore, that we understand that water had been spread over the surface of the earth; for the nature of moisture had not yet flowed down into its receptacles. For this reason, then, the earth is called not only invisible but also unadorned. Even now, indeed, an abundance of waters is an impediment to the earth, preventing it from supplying an abundance of fruits. This, then, was the cause that it could not be seen as dry and was held to be unadorned. For the adorning of the earth is, as we have said, its own natural beauty—that is, crops waving on the plain, and green meadows shining with the varied color of flowers, hills most fertile, and the tops of mountains shaded by lofty trees. The earth had none of these, still in labor with the birth of all things because of the power implanted in it by the Creator; but it was awaiting the time when, by divine command, it should bring forth its conceptions into the light.

And there were, he says, darkness upon the abyss. And again other occasions for fables, and for shameful fabrications, are given to those who twist the words of Scripture according to their own whim. For they do not interpret the darkness in the way it was born, that is, a certain dark air, or a place darkened by the interposition of some body; but they say it is an evil power, or rather malice itself having its beginning from itself, an adversary to the goodness of God, and they assert that this is the nature of darkness. For if God is light, they say, without doubt the power opposed to him is darkness according to the reckoning of sense, not borrowing its substance from some other source, but it is malice, its own begetter, the stain of souls, the producer of death, contrary to goodness, which they contend both subsists and was made by God. From this, then, what impious and profane dogma is fashioned? Who are these ravening wolves, tearing apart the flock of the Lord, taking their beginning from this utterance, who snatch away simple souls? From here the sect of Marcion and Valentinus, and the accursed sect of the Manichaeans, flowed forth: and who, naming this rottenness of the Churches, will not sin? Why do you withdraw further from the truth, O man, seeking for yourself the causes of perdition, when the word is simple and plain to all? The earth, he says, was invisible. Why? Because, evidently, the abyss had been spread over it. But what is the understanding of the abyss? Water exceedingly great, having infinite depth.

But we know, they say, that many bodies are often seen even through clear water. How then was no part of the earth shown through the waters at that time? Because it lacked light, and the air poured over the waters was still darkened. For when the sun's rays have penetrated the water, we often see the pebbles that lie in the depth—which certainly can in no way happen at night. The cause, then, of the earth's being invisible was the overlaying of the waters. For he says that there was an abyss which hindered the view, and the abyss itself was darkened. Therefore we say that the abyss is neither a multitude of hostile powers, as some falsely argue, nor a certain principal and malignant substance of darkness that fights against goodness. For two things set against each other by contrariety must necessarily be destructive to each other's substance, and produce eternal quarrels between themselves, as being bound together in mutual struggles of fighting against one another. If one of these has prevailed, the opposing part is without doubt defeated and consumed. But if they wish malice always to be equal to goodness, they will subject things to an unceasing conflict and corruption, with the parts now overcoming one another, now yielding to one another. But if they declare that malice is overcome by goodness, what reason is there that the nature of malice should not seem to have been utterly destroyed? But if not—which it is impious to say—I wonder how they do not shrink from uttering such sacrilegious blasphemy.

But we establish by this reasoning that evil did not receive its beginning of birth from God, because nothing of those things which are contrary to itself can generate anything unlike itself. For neither did the origin of death proceed from life, nor is it established that darkness was formed by light, nor health by sickness; but in the changes of affections, translations are always effected from contraries to contraries. In births, however, each thing succeeds not from contraries but from similars. Therefore, they say, if darkness is neither generative nor made by God, whence does it have its origin? For since it is evil, no one of the living dares to contradict this. What then do we say? That evil is not some living and animated substance, but a certain affection contrary to virtue, and cast down from goodness, and placed in the minds of the most depraved.

Wherefore I do not wish you to judge evil to be something external, nor to suppose it to possess a principal nature of wickedness; but let each one know himself to be the author of his own malice. For of those things which happen to us, some are from nature, that is, old age and sickness; others come about of their own accord, that is, chance occurrences, which, rushing in for the most part upon affairs alien to themselves, either bring joy to us or sorrow, as to those digging a well there occurs the discovery of a hidden treasure; or to those going to the marketplace there happens the arrival of a rabid dog.

But other things are in our power: for example, to restrain the desires of pleasures, to temper lusts, to curb anger; either to avoid what incites us, or to follow truth, or to hate falsehood, to be gentle in character or harsh, humble or exalted. Therefore, of the things whose masters we are held to be, we do not borrow the beginnings from elsewhere. So recognize that what is properly evil takes its beginning from the free choices of the will. For if evil descended from necessity, such great fear of the laws would not rest upon sinners, nor would judges decree punishments worthy of criminals. Let these things be said by me concerning what is properly evil. But sickness, or poverty, or disgrace, and other things which are accustomed to make mortals sorrowful, I judge are not yet to be placed in the category of evils, because neither are their contrary causes placed among the greatest seats of goods; some of these are natural, which for the most part seem to us to come about usefully. Therefore, restraining for the present the narrative concerning morals that is suspect, let us rather draw the consideration of darkness, simply and without any cunning, into our minds. But the discourse demands that we know whether darkness was begotten together with the world, even if it is to be thought to be earlier than light. But if this is so, why is the worse thing held to be older than the better? Although we assert that this darkness too does not consist of its own substance, but is a certain defect in the air, produced when light is withdrawn.

And again it must be asked by what light the place of the world was suddenly deprived. For we judge that if there was anything at all before the establishment of this sensible and corruptible world, it was certainly in light. For neither the dignity of the angels, nor the whole heavenly host, nor whatever is named, or unutterable, or any rational power, or ministering spirit, could dwell in darkness, but in light and joy it possessed the dwelling fitting for itself. On this matter no one will contradict. Whoever therefore awaits that light which is above the heavens among the promises of good things, of which Solomon says: Light is for the righteous always (Prov. XIII, 9). And the Apostle: Giving thanks to God and the Father, who has made us fit for a portion of the lot of the saints in light (Col. I, 12). For if the damned are driven away into the outermost darkness, these who await recompense for worthy works will without doubt obtain the dwelling of rest in that light which is outside the world. Therefore, since it is established that heaven was made by the command of God, and suddenly stretched out, and enclosed by a familiar roundness around the earth, having a dense body and so strong that it can separate the things which are outside from those within; for this reason it necessarily established behind itself a region left behind, lacking light, since the splendor which radiated from above was shut out. For three things must concur at once for a shadow to be made: light, a body, and a darkened place.

Therefore it must be known that the worldly darkness came into being from the heavenly shadow of a body. But do you attend to what we say by means of a clear example. If at the midday hours you were to set up for yourself a certain tent made of very dense and opaque material, you will place yourself there in spontaneous darkness. Therefore judge that those darknesses are of such a kind, not established as primary, but following upon the advance of another. Moreover, they report that these darknesses were borne over the abyss: because the extremity of the air is accustomed to be joined to the appearances of bodies. But at that time water had been placed over all things, on which account it was necessarily reported that darkness was over the abyss.

And the Spirit, he says, of God was borne over the water. Whether he calls the diffusion of this air the spirit—perceive the writer enumerating to you the individual portions of the world; for he says that God made heaven and earth, water and air, this latter fluid and diffused—or, what I consider more true, and what has been approved by those who came before us, he calls the Spirit of God, that is, the holy [Spirit]. For Scripture has reserved it, so that it might declare the preeminent mention of this name fittingly: and we ought to believe that no other spirit is called [spirit] except the holy one, who is the completer of the blessed and venerable Trinity, and grasping this understanding, you will find that a greater benefit is conferred upon you in turn. How, then, was this spirit borne over the waters?

I will tell you not my own discourse, but that of a certain man by birth a Syrian, who was as far removed from the wisdom of this world as he was held to be near to true doctrine. He used to say that the Syriac tongue is more eloquent than the Hebrew, and that on account of its kinship with the Hebrew language it gave itself more readily to the words of the Scriptures. The sense, then, of his saying is as follows: "The Spirit," he says, "was borne over," that is, it cherished and gave life to the nature of the waters, after the likeness of a hen brooding: imparting vital power to the things that were being cherished. Therefore the account of this kind interprets what he said, "was borne over," in this way, that is, it compelled the nature of the waters to give life. From this, moreover, that point which is greatly sought after by certain people can be sufficiently approved: that the Holy Spirit is not lacking in generative power.

1. And God said, Let there be light. The first utterance of God fashioned the nature of light, and drove away the darkness, and dissolved gloom, and suddenly brought forth every glad and pleasant appearance. Then the sky appeared, which had in the meantime been hidden by the Lord; and its beauty shone forth as great as even now sight bears witness to. But the air was illuminated by that light which was mingled with it, and it extended the keen penetration of its own brightness everywhere throughout all its bounds.

For it was above, near to the ether and the heaven; but in breadth it reached both the northern and southern regions, and the eastern parts as well as the western, since its nature is bright and clear, on account of which the light passing through it endured no delays or periods of time. For just as the air, without any moment of time, directs our eyes at once to the things that are seen, so it poured out the approach of light swiftly, and perceived with all speed, through all the bounds of its composition. The ether too is made more beautifully illumined by it, and the waters appear more splendid, not only because they are washed by the brightness of the light, but also, gleaming by its reflection, they render the appearance of the air clearer. Thus the divine word established all things, pleasing and honorable. For just as those who by sprinkling oil make the deep of the sea clear to themselves, so God, the creator of things, by the love of his mouth, suddenly established for the world the sweetness of light. God said, Let there be light: and immediately the command was a work, and nature was made, because nothing more delightful in enjoyment could enter the thought of mortals. But even if at some time we speak of the voice, the speech, or the command of God, you ought to notice that it is not by the intention or motion of a body producing a sound that any sound is assigned as the word of God, nor is the word of God air struck by the tongue; but it is the impulse of his will, since for the sake of those who are taught we judge it more useful to represent the command in a specific figure. And God saw that the light was good.

With what praises, then, shall we be able to celebrate the light, since it has deserved such a testimony to its goodness from the Creator? Granted that the divine words compel our eyes to judge likewise concerning it, for speech does not suffice to explain how much the keenness of our sense, anticipating it, attests. For if the beauty of a body is formed from its members duly composed among themselves, and from the loveliness of color, how can we explain the light, whose nature is simple and in all things like itself, with full proclamation that it is good? For thus we also call gold good, not because it has been well worked, but because it bestows on us great delights of its color. Similarly also the star that is called Antifer is named the most beautiful of all the stars, not on account of any excellent composition of members, which it has none of, but because it pours forth a glad and lively splendor upon our gaze. A testimony of God of this kind, therefore, looks not only to this, that light is good in itself and pleasant to those who behold it, but also on account of the usefulness that was afterward conferred on mortals from it, he said it was good. And God separated between the light and the darkness, that is, their unmingled nature, and made them unlike each other by their contrariety; for he both set them apart from each other by long distances and distinguished them, as it is said: And God called the light day, and the darkness he called night.

Now indeed, after the creation of the sun, that is called day which is air illuminated by the sun, when it abides in the hemisphere that is above the earth; and night is called the overshadowing of the earth, which is generated when the sun is set in its going down. But then day was made not only by the motion of a body, but by the diffusion of the principal light, now withdrawing itself, now again bringing itself back, according to the divine command, and night followed. And evening was touched, and morning was made, one day. Therefore the naming of evening is to be understood in a common sense. For both when the day is beginning and when it is verging toward its setting, night is contiguous to it by its own nearness; yet so as to preserve the privileges of the day's nativity, he spoke of evening first, saying that night accompanies day. For before the light was created, night was not reckoned in the world, but darkness. Therefore the overshadowing of the earth, which we mentioned above, intervening, was called night in place of day; and therefore after its generation it was named by a new name. And so evening was made, and morning was made: he did not say day and night, but evening and morning, so that he might assign the dignity of the name, evidently, to the better part. For day equally touches evening and morning, and you will find Scripture everywhere observing this custom in reckoning times. For we say that so many days have elapsed, making no mention of nights, as the psalm teaches: The days of our years (Ps. 89:10). And again Jacob: The days of my life are few and evil (Gen. 47:9).

And elsewhere: All the days of my life. Therefore the things that were then related for the sake of history, the writer established to be valid as laws for the future. And there was evening, and there was morning, one day. For what reason did he not say "first," but "one"? And certainly it would have been more consistent for him, who was going to speak of the second and third and fourth, to call it the first day rather than one. But he said this either defining the measure of the day together with the night, and joining the time from both, so that twenty-four hours would be seen to make up the span of one day—we, of course, understanding by implication that by the naming of day the night also ought to be understood. Whence, even if by solstitial change it should happen that one of these becomes longer, nevertheless the pre-established time of hours embraces the intervals of both, as if you were to say that twenty-four hours belong to the measure of one day; or perhaps he said "one" for this reason, that in heaven, from certain signs, the procession and return of the sun is celebrated again within the same one day. Thus, as often as evening or morning, according to the circuit of the sun, encompasses the orb of the earth, it is accustomed to define its own courses in no greater a time than the space of one day.

Or, as a more profound account teaches, when God created the nature of time and established for it a measure and fixed signs from the intervals of days, he willed that it be counted by the week, and commanded that it always turn back upon itself, measuring the motion of time; and again he ordered that the week be made complete by the space of one day, which is reflected seven times upon itself. For this is the nature of revolving figures, that beginning from themselves they are always carried back into themselves. This is also proper to the ages, which by ceaselessly rolling through their own traces receive no end by any reckoning. For this reason he called the summit of time not "the first" but "one" day, so that from that very naming an affinity with the age might be preserved for it. For indicating the model of simple things, which have nothing in common with others, it is wholly fittingly and properly called "one." And although Scripture declares many ages to us, saying that there are ages of ages, yet there neither a first, nor a second, nor a third age is numbered. Hence we are given to understand the differences of diverse causes and acts, and not the circuits and successions and ends of ages. For the day of the Lord, it says, is great and bright. And elsewhere: Why do you seek the day of the Lord? Yet it has darkness, not light. But he called those darknesses which are appointed for those who are worthy of them.

For the word testifies that that day is without setting and everlasting, which the psalm also calls the eighth: since it is held outside of time. Therefore whether you call it a day, or an age, or the seventh, it is drawn from the same understanding, and is declared singularly and not in multiplicity. And so, in order to direct our thoughts toward the future life, he rightly called that principal day, which is the image of the ages, one, as being coeval with the light. I mean the holy Lord's day, which was glorified by the Savior's resurrection. And this is what he said: There was evening, and there was morning, one day. But the account of that evening, having been occupied, imposes a limit on the course of our disputation with the present evening. But the Father of true light, who adorned the day with heavenly light, and made the night bright with rays of fire, who prepared the rest of the age to come for those who are worthy, may he illuminate your hearts with the knowledge of the truth, and keep your life undefiled, granting you to walk honorably, so that you may shine like the sun in the brightness of his saints, to my exultation on the day of the Lord, to whom be glory and honor, now and always and forever and ever. Amen.

BOOK THREE.

i. The works of the first day—or rather of the one day, for it is not right that we detract from it the dignity it merited from the Creator, since it was brought forth by itself uniquely, in no way counted among the courses of the other days—our discourse of yesterday set forth, together with all things that were made in it. And dividing these things as they came, it provided morning nourishment and evening gladness to the minds of the hearers; but now we hasten to the wonders of the second day. In recalling this, however, I do not place what is said in the power of the speaker, but in the grace of Scripture, which naturally possessing ease of understanding, inspired its love in those hearts which prefer truth to superfluous persuasion; just as the psalm also, showing the sweetness of truth, says: Your words are sweet to my throat, sweeter than honey to my mouth. Yesterday, therefore, as far as was possible, lingering over the words of the Lord, we filled your senses with delight. And to today we run eagerly, about to behold the wonders of the things that follow. Yet it could not escape us at all that many craftsmen, living by the labor of their own hands, stand around us and admonish us to compress the proposed narration with brevity, lest they be drawn away from their work too long. To them I reply that a small portion of time lent to God not only does not itself perish, but is repaid by him with great increase.

For all things that produce the causes of occupations, the Lord Almighty supplies in due season strength to bodies and gladness to souls, and also the ability to accomplish affairs, if only we judge spiritual things to be preferable to worldly ones. But if perhaps in the present life we have not been able to receive the reward of things well done, yet in future ages we shall without doubt obtain abundant treasures. Wherefore I beseech you that you exclude all worldly thoughts from your minds, and present yourselves to me wholly and entirely. For the present bodily state will gain no advantage, since the mind, entangled in earthly cares, is believed to be absent.

And God said: Let there be a firmament; and it said, dividing between the water and the water. Yesterday indeed we heard the words of the Lord saying: Let there be light; today, Let there be a firmament. Yet the present words seem to have something more. For the word did not remain in a bare command, but the cause for which the production of the firmament is sought is declared more openly; that is, that it divide between the water and the water.

First, indeed, let us consider, as we examine how God speaks—whether in our manner, that is, the manner of men, who first conceive in the intellect the form of a thing to come; then, gathering from the things at hand fitting and familiar significations for each, we express them; and after this, making known our thoughts through the services of vocal functions, through the vibration of the air and the compliance of articulate speech, we publish abroad the sense conceived in the heart. And how is he not to be called insane who declares that God needs such functions to explain what he thinks, when it is rather pious to assert that the divine will, and the first impulse of his mind, is the Word of God? This Scripture has therefore figured in a certain form, to show that he not only willed the creature to be made, but also brought it to completion with some cooperation. For he could, as from the beginning, have reported historically concerning all things, that in the beginning God made heaven, then made light, and afterward the firmament; but now he seems to introduce God as commanding and speaking, hindering us by no illusion from coming, led by traces and indications, to the contemplation of him who is ineffable. For things sought with labor are both perceived with delight and preserved with the greatest care. For those whose attainment is easy are undoubtedly possessed with distaste; therefore he directs us, having entered the path of true reason, to the Unbegotten for exploration.

And indeed, the incorporeal nature had no need of a spoken voice, since the purpose of thought could not lie hidden from those who shared in counsel, supplied as it were from the very power itself. For speech is necessary on account of hearing, and hearing on account of speech. But where there is neither air, nor tongue, nor ears, nor a touch harsher than needed to carry the sound back to the sense of the head, there speech is not necessary either; rather, from the very thought itself, so to speak, as from a cardinal point, the sharing of the will takes place. Therefore, as we said before, in order that our mind might rise to the seeking of his face of whom we speak, he wisely and excellently assumed this kind of form of expression.

In the second place it must be asked whether, besides that heaven which was made in the beginning, there was a firmament, which is itself also called heaven; or whether there are certainly two heavens—although the philosophers who dispute about heaven would more tolerably consent to have their tongues cut off than to concede that there are two heavens. For they assert that there is one heaven, whose nature they affirm by no means permits a second or a third to be added to it, since, they say, the whole substance of heaven was consumed in the forming of one. For they declare that there is a single body that is turned, and enclosed by a fixed circuit; and because it was brought forth in the creation of the first heaven, nothing remains for the composition of a second or a third.

But in saying these things they suppose that a certain unbegotten matter was available to the Creator, weaving the lies of those who followed out of the first fable. But we ask the philosophers of the Greeks not to censure our teachings before they themselves are able to hold agreement among themselves. For some of them assert that the heavens are infinite and the worlds innumerable; when the keener among them have overcome that mischievous profession, having gathered certain proofs from the necessity of geometry, they think they can affirm again that nature does not allow another heaven besides one to be generated. But we say that they are then especially worthy of our laughter, chiefly because they often appear to claim that many are also made in water, from which one must not doubt the multitude of heavens, and that the living power, the creatress of all things, sufficed for their construction—whose strength and magnitude, if we contemplate the power of God, we shall not judge to differ from the flow of a liquid which, when poured into empty vessels, sometimes swells up with certain refillings. Therefore their proposition is altogether laughable, as they contend about the impossibility of the Almighty. But we are so far from disbelieving in a second heaven that we also profess a third, whose most blessed Paul was not deprived of the sight (2 Cor 12:2). For the psalm, naming the heavens of heavens, also suggests to us the understanding of many.

Nor is that question more admirable, as it seems to those seven circles according to which the seven stars are said to be borne in harmony by all: which they also say are hidden within themselves, after the example of the falls joined one upon another, and driven by contrary motions against one another, and tempering sharp with heavy, they affirm that they give back a certain concord and a sweet melody of harmony. The asserters of this matter, when they are compelled to approve the faith of their sayings by the reasoning of common sense, say this: that we, intent with ears through old custom toward that creaking which resounded from our first birth, by daily use, the sense of our ears being filled has grown deaf, and therefore we are less able to listen to the harmony, just as in a craftsman's workshop the hearing grows dull and blunted by the constant blows of the workers. But permitting the worldly to treat these studied subtleties, let us return to the discourse of the Church. It has therefore been said by our predecessors that this is not the creation of the second heaven, but the exposition of the first. For there Scripture reported in brief the making of heaven and earth; here it handed down to us more curiously the reason by which each element was made. But we say that since both the name is different and the use is proper in the second, that heaven which was made first must necessarily be different, having a stronger nature, which provides the chief benefit to all things.

And God said: Let there be a firmament, and let it be dividing between water and water. Therefore, before we touch the root of those things which have been written, let us test whether we can refute those things which we think are to be objected to us by others. For they question us, proposing: if the body of the firmament is held to be like a sphere, as the vision itself testifies, how could flowing water, ever slipping down to the lower parts, have stood upon the globosity of the curved firmament? What do we answer? That it is not in every respect the case that what seems to us, who suspect it to be revolving within, is also believed to have been formed on the outside in the likeness of a sphere. For we see marble vaults of baths, fashioned within indeed in a half-rounded form, but at their peaks having a flat surface. Let them therefore cease to generate calumny against us on this point, boasting that water cannot be contained in the upper parts. It remains that it be said what the nature of the firmament is, and for the sake of what thing it was established to intervene between the waters. It is therefore customary for Scripture, in causes excelling in virtue, to bring forth these things, as if it were said: The Lord is my firmament and my refuge. And elsewhere: I have strengthened its columns. And: Praise him in the firmament of his power.

And the secular writers indeed call a firm body, as it were condensed; and they refer to what is indicated for the distinction of a mathematical body; for one thing is mathematical, and another which subsists by the extent of intervals, that is, stretched out in height and breadth. But what is firm, since it is separated by spaces, also possesses hardness. But Scripture is accustomed to call that body which is exceedingly strong and solid the firmament, just as it also frequently calls the thick and condensed air by the same word, when it says: Who made firm the thunder (Amos 4:13). For because the spirit conceived in the clouds and violently burst forth produces the sound of thunder, it calls the hardness of thickness the firming of the thunder. Hence now too we judge that in some most firm nature the passage and smooth flowing of waters consist, and are held contained by the barrier of this word, since it is believed to have received its origin from the issuing of common waters, or certainly it is fitting to judge that it is similar to a coagulated liquid: or to some matter of this kind, which took its origin from the diffusion of a liquid, such as is the nature of crystal stone, which they report is generated from the concretion of waters.

But the stone which properly possesses lucid transparency, and which is found pure according to its nature, neither defiled by the admixture of any rottenness, nor is its base fixed with any cracks, is considered similar to air in color; but it is not lawful for us to compare the firmament to any of these. For truly it is the mark of a childish and foolish mind to hold such an opinion about heavenly things. But neither, if all things are in all things—that is, fire in earth, air in water, and other things in others—nor because of those elements which are subject to our senses, nothing is held to be social, whether by communion of intermediate or of contrary causes: for this reason also we ought to judge that the firmament is either one of the simple elements, or that what proceeded from them is mixed, since Scripture manifestly commands us that nothing is permitted to our sense to opine beyond what has been granted. Nor, I ask, let that pass undiscussed by us, that after God commanded, saying: Let the firmament be made, not without reason the historian added: And the firmament was made. For before, God made the firmament. And again: God divided. Let the deaf therefore listen, and be enlightened to see. But who is so deaf as he who does not hear Scripture crying out so openly? Or who is so blind, unless one instructed by evident proofs does not regard the glory of the Only-begotten? And God said: Let the firmament be made. This word indicates the cause of its designation.

But what he said—"Because God made the firmament"—is a demonstration of perfection.

Now let the discourse turn to what remains. And it says, dividing between the water and the water. Infinite, as far as can be understood, was the diffusion of the waters, flowing around the earth on every side, so that it seemed even to exceed the fixed boundaries of the other elements; for this reason it is said in what follows that the abyss surrounded the earth. But the cause of the multitude of waters we shall explain a little further on. Nevertheless, none of us—nor even of those who are greatly learned and who look most sharply into this corruptible and fleeting nature—will be able by conjecture to reproach us, either that we utter impossible words or words patched together with certain fictions for the narrative; nor will he demand proofs by which we can establish upon what the nature of the waters was founded. For by that reasoning by which, establishing the earth as heavier than the waters, they declare it to be balanced in the midst of all things, that heavenly water also, on account of its natural impulse, always tending downward, and on account of its equilibrium placed on every side, must necessarily remain firmly above the orb of the earth. Therefore the nature of the waters was exceedingly vast, and was not spread out according to the measure of the earth, but far more abundantly surpassed its circumference. Thus from the beginning the most magnificent Artisan, foreseeing things to come, established the usefulness of later things by the disposition of earlier ones. What cause was there, then, that the enormity of the waters should abound upon the earth?

Since the nature of fire was necessary for things, not only with regard to the ordering of earthly matters, but also for the perfection of all things. For indeed all things would be very brief and half-complete, if something were lacking to the greatest and principal elements, which we know are contrary to one another and by turns destructive of each other's substance. For fire consumes water when it excels in power, but water, when it has abounded, extinguishes fire. It was therefore necessary that these elements neither agree firmly among themselves, nor by the complete destruction of one of them provide the cause of the dissolution of all things, and for this reason the governor of the world set in place a sufficient supply of moisture, so that, not exceeding the limits prescribed for it, it might resist the devouring greed of fire. For God, who established all things in the ordering of weight and measure, to whom even the drops of rain are numbered, as Job testifies, knew for how long a time water ought to remain in the world, and how much nourishment it should prepare for fire. This is the account of the waters according to creation. Yet how necessary the use of fire is for human affairs, who is so utterly devoid of the experience of living that he has learned this only from the tradition of teaching?

For not only do those arts which sustain human life need the aid of fire, but even the germination of trees, the ripening of fruits, and the birth of animals both terrestrial and marine would neither have begun in the first place nor endured through the ages, if the benefit of heat had been lacking. An abundance of waters was also greatly necessary, so that fire might draw its nourishment from them ceaselessly and without interruption.

Consider the creation, then, more diligently, and you will find that the power of heat clings mightily to all things that rise and set. For this reason waters in very great abundance have been poured upon the lands, and they extend beyond what they appear to be, reaching even the floor of the earth; from this source a more plentiful supply of flowing is furnished to springs and wells, and the headlong courses of torrents, so that moisture might be stored, as it were, in many and diverse granaries. And so from the eastern regions, in winter, proceeds the river Indus, more violent than all streams, as those who described the circle of the world have observed. From the southern regions, however, flow the Bactrus and the Choaspis, and the Araxes, from which the Tanais, broken off, passes into the Maeotic marsh. The Phasis, moreover, issues from the Caucasian mountains, and countless others are borne from the northern regions to the Euxine Pontus. From the western climes, however, in summer, beneath the Pyrenean peak, are the Tartessus and the Ister, of which one runs down into the outer seas, while the other, coming through Europe, is dispersed into the Pontus.

But what need is there to enumerate those rivers which rise from the Riphaean mountains of inner Scythia? Among them is the Rhodanus, which, together with many other navigable streams, passing by the Galatians and the Hesperians and the race of the Celts and many neighboring nations, mingles with the Western sea. For of those which descend from the upper south through Ethiopia—that is, from the Tages, the Nisus, the Cremeas, and the Nile—some flow into our sea, others roll down into the nearer Ocean; although the Nile is not to be compared with all of them, since, in the manner of the sea, spread abroad in summer time, it is accustomed to flood the land of Egypt. Thus the habitable part of the world is wholly filled with waters, no less surrounded by the waves of the sea than irrigated by rivers, on account of the ineffable wisdom of the Creator, who ordained the nature that resists heat to be sufficient. But there will be a time when fire shall scorch all things, as Isaiah testifies, speaking to the Lord God of all: Who says to the abyss: You shall be scattered, and all your rivers I will dry up. Therefore, despising worldly wisdom, receive with us the teaching of truth, adorned indeed with no beauties of eloquence, but most powerful in the reasoning of knowledge.

Therefore: Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide between water and water. We have said what the term "firmament" signifies: that is, not a hard and strong nature, which is supported by some prop and weight. For such a word would have been far more properly deserved by the earth, but on account of the substance of the things above, which is subtle and rare, and is held to be comprehensible by no sense, he called it "firmament," namely by comparison with lighter bodies, which we are able to reach neither by sight nor by touch. And at the same time consider a certain place which separates the moisture, a thinner part of which he assigned to the stations above, but the thicker and muddy part he destined for the lower regions, so that that tempering which was made from the beginning might remain, effected by the gradual lessening of the waters. But you indeed do not disbelieve the abundance of liquid, yet you do not regard the force of fire, which, although it is held to be slight in appearance, is nevertheless able to weigh out a multitude of waters. For it always draws to itself the waters placed beneath it, in the manner of a medical cupping-glass; and it easily consumes them by the example of a lamp's flame, which, licking the oil through the attached wick, soon devours it. But who would doubt that the aether is fiery and scorching? Which, unless it were restrained by the limits established for it by the Creator, would easily consume all things: this very thing prevents the whole moisture which has been inserted into diverse things from being devoured by the heat of the sun and drying up.

For this reason the water collected in the higher place became heavenly, which the marshes and rivers and the sea exhale as vapors rising from themselves, so that the ethereal heat might not set ablaze all things that are subject to it. Indeed, we see that the sun in summer suddenly dries up shallower pools in a very brief span of time. Where, then, is that water? Let the clever ones show us—can it be doubtful to anyone that it has been used up and has failed through the sun's heat? Although they say that the sun is not hot, such great facility in speaking supplies them. And consider on what evidence they rely when they oppose the most evident facts. Because, they say, its color is white and is not considered red or purple, for this reason they contend that the sun is not fiery. But they claim that heat proceeds from its rather rough revolution, arguing this, of course, so as to assert that the sun consumes nothing of the moisture. But I, even if what is objected is not true, will not refute the argument, inasmuch as it supports me. For it was said that on account of the devouring nature of fire a multitude of waters is necessary; yet it makes no difference whether the heat is natural or acquired, provided that it produces similar effects upon the same matter—that is, whether flame arises when pieces of wood are rubbed together, or fire kindled of its own accord consumes whatever has been thrown into it, one and the same outcome proceeds from both.

And indeed we see the governing wisdom of God, transferring the sun from one region to another, so that, not always dwelling in the same places, it might not, by the greed of its heat, lay waste the ornament of the world. But now it leads it to the southern zone, now to the solstitial signs, according to the changes of the seasons, and from there turns it back to the northern region, so that, migrating gradually through different parts, it may preserve moderate temperatures for earthly fruits. Yet let them consider whether they are not shown to contradict themselves, since they maintain that the sea is not increased by the swelling of rivers for the reason that it is absorbed by the heat of the sun, from which cause also its water is made salt and bitter, inasmuch as it loses the taste of its own sweetness by the seizure of heat, and where the sun carries off with it the lighter part, it leaves behind here the heavier and muddy part, as it were some dregs. But those who were just now discoursing such things about the sea, having changed their minds again, declare that no loss of liquid is caused by the sun.

And God called the firmament heaven. Indeed, another name would properly have suited it. Yet we know that very often "heaven" is said of the thick and condensed region of this air which plainly meets our eyes. But "heaven" (caelum) is so called from "seeing" (cernendo), which we gather better from the etymology of the Greeks, because they call the birds "the birds of heaven," as Scripture says (Ps. VIII, 9); and elsewhere, "the birds according to the firmament of heaven" (Gen. I, 20). Such also is what is said: "They ascend even to heaven" (Ps. CVI, 26). And Moses, blessing the tribe of Joseph, gives a blessing from the ends of heaven, and from the changing of the sun, and from the concurrence of the months, and from the top of the mountains (Deut. XXXIII, 13); as though the region of the earth abounded in an abundance of such things. But also among the curses upon Israel: "Let heaven," he says, "be to you as brass over your head" (Deut. XXVIII, 23), indicating complete drought, and a failure of the moisture of the air, through which the desired fertility is supplied to earthly fruits. When, therefore, he says that dew or rain is sent forth from heaven, understand the waters which were commanded to hold the higher region. For when the vapors had been gathered together, it went on high, and the air having been condensed by the blasts of the winds, these exhalations which are subtly inserted into the clouds are perfected into drops through mutual additions, and, colliding by their own weight, are driven downward.

This is the generation of rains; but when the moisture has been skimmed off, struck back by the violence of the winds, when it hardens more intensely with cold, with the clouds congealed, frozen snow is borne down to the earth. And altogether according to this kind of reasoning, you may expect the whole nature of waters, how the circumambient air that is above us is gathered together. Yet let no one wish to compare the simplicity of spiritual discourses to the argumentation of those who dispute about heaven. For as much as the beauty of rightly living women is preferred to the comeliness of a harlot, so much is our discourse known to be preferred to secular learning. For they are accustomed to bring a forced persuasion with words; but we bring forth the naked truth without deception. But what need is there for us to stir up a contest, repelling their lies, when we can, comparing their own scriptures to themselves, await their conflict without our labor? They, differing neither in eloquence nor fewer in number nor inferior in dignity, fighting against their own adversaries, when they affirm that fire utterly scorches and devours all things, again from the recurring seeds that the conflagration of fire leaves behind, they introduce causes of regeneration. Whence they even introduce innumerable worlds.

But those deprived of the truth of both professions seek from this side and that, through want, supports for their own error. Indeed, even concerning these waters which the interposition of the firmament separated, by occasion of allegories and a deeper sense, they set certain figures before us, saying that spiritual and incorporeal powers ought to be understood, with change, in place of the waters, and that the more worthy remained above the firmament, while the harmful ones were established in the lower regions, as being coarser and muddy. Therefore they say that those waters which are above the heavens praise the Lord, that is, the best powers which are worthy, by the merit of their purity, to celebrate the Creator with fitting praises. But those which are contained below, they affirm to be spirits of wickedness, fallen from their natural height into the depth of malice, which, as turbulent and seditious and tossing with the uproars of vices, are called the sea because of the variety of their purpose, which is changed continually. But we, dismissing speeches of this kind as conjectures of dreams and old wives' tales, let us understand water to be true water, and let us accept the separation of the firmament just as the Scripture hands it down. And if at any time the waters are said to offer praise to the common Lord of all, they are not for this reason to be judged to be of a rational nature. For neither because the heavens declare the glory of God (Psal.

XVIII, 2), they are encouraged in every way, nor is the firmament to be thought a sensible living being, because it declares the work of his hands. And even if someone should say that the heavens are contemplative powers, but the firmament is the creative power of God, we do not disdainfully reject such a statement of ours, although it is fictitious, but we will by no means allow it to be true. For neither dew, nor winter, nor cold, nor heat, since they are bidden to praise the creator of all things, as Daniel says (Cap. III), are to be understood as being of a sensible or invisible nature; but the consideration of them, prudently contemplated by those who have sense, accomplishes the glorification of the Creator. For not only does the water which is above the heavens, as though surpassing the rest in honor because of the beauty implanted in itself, pay praise to the Lord; but those things which are on the earth are also invited to do the same, that is, the dragons and all the deeps (Psal. CXLVIII, 7). Thus neither is the abyss, which the fabricators of allegories strive to cast into a worse part, judged refutable by the Psalmist, since it too, according to its own quality, sends forth hymns of the power of the Creator.

And God saw that the firmament was good. He did not call it good by the testing of eyes. For the things established by God do not furnish us bodily pleasure, nor is the delight to be taken from them the pleasure of those things which seem pleasant to mortals; but He called that work good which is weighed by the reason of its art and directed toward the end of future usefulness. Rightly, then, He set forth that the reason of things generated is manifest; running through those things which were afterward effected part by part by the creative word of His power, He praised them as being the consummators of the world. For the hands and eye and the other members of a bronze statue, scattered about, seem good to no one; but when they are brought together and arranged in their proper order, and have received the appearance of fitting formation, they are easily discerned by anyone, even the unskilled. But the Creator of the elements, even before the composition of each individual thing, knew the good of each work; and praising each one, the Fashioner directs the thought of His mind toward the future outcome of the things formed. Such, then, is God now also as the Artificer, Assertor, and Proclaimer of the individual parts; but a little later, when the whole world alike has been consummated, He will impart to it the praise that is fitting.

But now let the morning account of the second day receive its limit here, so that we may give studious hearers a respite, in which they may compare with one another the things that have been said, and by the benefit of memory take care to retain all things in the depths of their hearts for their own profit, and, chewing the food of doctrine by the practice of constant meditation, after wholesome digestion may seek the remaining nourishment of the discourse. But to those who carry out the business of living with their hands, let us grant indulgence in the meantime, so that, when their works are completed, they may present their mind, freed from the knot of cares, again to the evening banquet. Meanwhile, may the Lord, who made magnificent things out of nothing and appointed that these small libations of words be brought forth by us, give you understanding of his truth, so that from visible things you may reckon the invisible, and from the greatness and beauty of the creature my Conditor may receive the glory due to him, so that both on earth and in the air and in heaven and in the waters and between day and night and in all things that are seen you may grasp the most certain monuments of the Benefactor. For neither will time be given to sins, nor will a place be left to the enemy for suggesting contrary things, with the Lord clinging to your senses; to whom be glory and veneration, now and always and through all ages of ages. Amen.

BOOK FOUR.

A discussion concerning the gathering of the waters and the appearing of the dry land.

There are certain cities whose peoples refresh themselves from morning until evening by feeding their own eyes on wondrous spectacles; they also thrust into their senses soft songs and wanton melodies, breeding excessive luxury, and in listening to these they are delighted for a long while yet in no way satisfied. And yet many are accustomed to call these men blessed, because, abandoning necessary business and the arts by which the means of living are procured, passing the appointed time of their life in idleness and pleasure, they are occupied with empty acts, not knowing that dancing, approved by the most shameful spectacles, accomplishes a public and common school of vices. Lyric poems also, and the songs of flute-players, and harlots' ditties, having slipped into the hearts of their hearers, what else do they implant in the spectators but infamy, as they emulate actors? Some, moreover, held fast by the mad frenzy of the circus games, contend in their dreams at night for the speed of horses, now "rolling the chariots," now "transferring the charioteers to the other side," and they do not cease to turn over their whole daytime thought in the time of sleep.

But we, whom the Lord—who is held to be the greatest maker of things and greatly to be marveled at—has summoned to the demonstration of his works, must not grow faint in beholding them, nor become slothful in listening to the words of the Holy Spirit; but surrounding this splendid station of the divine work, and reckoning past times in our thoughts, let us contemplate the heaven indeed raised up like a vault, as the prophet says, and the earth exceedingly vast, standing founded upon itself by its immensity or weight, and the air diffused and liquid by nature, ministering fitting and unceasing nourishment to those who breathe, and dividing itself for all things that move, and yielding gently through the interposition of its softness; and the water, the nurturer of bodies and established as greatly useful to the human race, and remaining in moderation within the receptacles assigned to it. You will approve that these things are so from those things which have just been read.

And God said: Let the waters that are under heaven be gathered together into their gatherings, and let the dry land appear. And God called the dry land earth, and the gatherings of waters he called seas. How many accusations will you bring against me in what follows, demanding how the earth could be held to be invisible when color is present—since all color is comprehended by the sense of sight—or perhaps what we have said does not seem sufficient to you: that the earth was said to have been invisible not in respect of its nature, but in relation to us, evidently because of the casting over of the waters, which at that time had covered all lands. But now hear the Scripture, how it declares itself: Let the waters, it says, be gathered, and let the dry land appear. The veil is drawn back, so that what was not then visible might become conspicuous. Perhaps someone may also ask why that which is naturally inherent in waters—namely, that they always strive toward the more downward places—the word turns to the command of the Creator. For as long as water is hidden in a plain, it is stable, finding no place to descend; but where a descent presents itself, the front part rushing forth at once, the remaining multitude follows swiftly, fleeing as the one that goes before presses on with the impulse of the one coming: and the flow is seen to be all the swifter, the greater the weight of the water that flows together, and the more sloping the place. If, then, such is the nature of the liquid, it would surely have delayed the command by which he had ordered the waters to be gathered into one receptacle.

For it could without doubt, by its natural impulse, have flowed spontaneously into the hollow regions before it filled the backs [of the earth]; for no place of the earth is so level as the site of the waters. Then, they say, how was it commanded to come together into one gathering, when we know that the seas are diverse, which are certainly known to be far distant from one another? To that, then, which was first asked, we shall respond: because you indeed came to know the motion of the moisture after the issuing of the divine command, and because it is held to be circumfluent and always flowing down. For before it received motion from heavenly authority, neither did you see it, nor did you learn it from another who had seen it: hence you ought to observe that the word of God is the fashioner of nature, and the precept that was then given to creation furnished the arrangement for all things that were to be begotten. For both day and night were made once, and from that time until now, succeeding one another in turn, they keep the times of their courses divided into fixed portions.

Let the waters be gathered. The nature of the waters was commanded to flow forth, and it never fails in obeying the commands. But I say this with regard to the liquid kind of waters, of which some always flow, like springs and rivers, while others are gathered together and stand still. But my present discourse concerns the flowing ones. Let the waters be gathered into one gathering. If ever, as you stand beside a river, the thought comes to you, considering by whose impulse the water advances from the lands, or what storehouses there are from which it is poured out so abundantly, or what place it is driven to reach, or how neither that which follows fails nor that which has gone before overflows, you will surely find that all these things are held by the first utterance, from which that everlasting course is also supplied. Therefore, in every account, always remember the first command, which says: Let the waters be gathered. For it was fitting that they run swiftly, so that they might come to their own region; and after they had arrived, that they stand in the appointed receptacles and extend no further. For this reason it was said by the Ecclesiastes: The rivers run down into the sea, but the sea is not filled beyond measure (Eccl. 1:7). Because both that the course of the waters is driven on, and that the sea is kept within fixed boundaries, is the power of the first command: Let the waters be gathered into one gathering: so that, namely, those things which it indicates, having filled the receptacles and overflowed, might not likewise inundate all the ends of the earth; therefore it was commanded to gather itself into one gathering.

For this reason the sea, often stirred up by winds and boiling with waves and rising on high, when it has touched the neighboring shores, dissolving the force of its seething by foaming, is presently broken and drawn back. Will you not fear me, says the Lord, who set the sand as a boundary for the sea (Jer. 5:22)? For it is wonderful how the sand, the weakest of all things that are on the earth, by the command of God bridles the violence of the sea. But if it were otherwise, what reason could have prevented the Red Sea from invading all Egypt, which is certainly reckoned lower, and from mingling with the neighboring sea, unless it had been restrained by the command of the Creator? For because Egypt is lower than the Red Sea, we are most certainly taught this by those who wished to join the Egyptian and the Jewish sea, the first of whom is Sesostres the Egyptian, the second Larius the Mede. I have said these things so that we might know the power of the divine decree. Let the waters be gathered into one gathering, that is, let not one proceed out of that, but let it be held in the first receptacle in which it was collected.

Then, when he said, "Let them be gathered into one gathering," he taught that many waters had been divided in various ways. For valley places, naturally hollowed out in deeper expanses, had water collected in them, and fields too were full, resembling the likeness of the sea, and other regions of this kind, all of which were commanded to flow together into one gathering. And let no one say that if the multitude of waters had then covered the whole earth, nonetheless those places into which the waters were afterward commanded to run together were then filled. Where, then, was the water to be gathered, which had invaded all parts of the earth? To this we answer that when the command was given for them to come together into one gathering, then also the cause of their reception proceeded. For neither was there at that time the sea which is beyond Gades, nor was that greatest sea, navigable only by the bold, which washes the island of Britain and the western Hiberi, reckoned to exist, but afterward by the command of God a sufficient capacity was prepared, so that the multitude of waters might flow together there.

On this matter, since the account of our purification seems to conflict with the philosophers who say that the water was by no means gathered into one gathering, as we have experienced, we could indeed say many things and things known to all; but lest we seem ridiculous contending with such people—although they ought also to object to us the marshes and pools, and indeed those waters that are collected from rains, so that through these they might weaken the assertion of our account—let them know nevertheless that God called the greatest and most perfect concourse of all waters a gathering. For even a well is a made collection of water, the liquid having flowed down into a deep hollow. Not therefore do any receptacles of waters whatsoever manifest the name of that gathering, but that greatest and most excellent receptacle, into which the whole element was suddenly gathered together. For just as fire is dispersed in small and various materials, providing necessary use for all, yet the whole of it is contained in the ether, and similarly air, although it has slipped into individual bodies, nevertheless encompasses the whole circle of the earth; so also the nature of waters, although it is held committed to various stations, is nevertheless one greatest gathering, which separates that whole element from things foreign to it.

For the lakes situated in the northern regions, whether in the Hellespont, in Macedonia, or in Bithynia, are undoubtedly called gatherings; but for now our mention is of that one which is so much more extensive than all the rest that it is equal to the breadth of the lands. And although no one denies that there is a multitude of waters even in the smaller gatherings, nevertheless no one will rightly call those seas—though certain marshes are infected with the saltness of the sea, such as that which is called Asphaltitis in the parts of Judaea, or Serbonitis, which, lying between Egypt and Palestine, borders on the deserts of Arabia. All these indeed are marshes, yet there is reckoned one sea, as those assert who have traversed all lands in their travels. But some declare that the Hyrcanian and Caspian lake are enclosed within themselves. And indeed, since we ought to look more diligently into the cosmography of the historians, let us hear what has been reported concerning these. They say, then, that the aforementioned lakes, perforated by certain hidden caverns, discharge their channels into the greatest sea; whence also the Red Sea is affirmed to flow out into the sea which is beyond the Gaddirs.

How then,” they say, “if God called the various stations of the waters seas, because they came together into one receptacle, and again all the gatherings, that is, the bays which the encircling of the earth according to its configuration comprehends, are nonetheless called by the name ‘sea’—that is, the Arctic sea, the Southern sea, the Eastern sea, the Western sea—and again there are proper names for each individual expanse of sea: the Euxine, the Hellespont, the Aegean, the Ionian, the Sicilian, the Tyrrhenian, and very many others, all of whose names to run through one by one is far too long and laborious—for this reason God named the gatherings of waters seas. But now the order of the passing discourse has brought us to this point; let us return to that which we began some time ago.

And God said: Let the waters be gathered into one gathering, and let the dry land appear. He did not say “let the earth appear,” lest He again show it to be disordered, as being muddy and still deformed by the flooding of the waters, and weak; and at the same time lest anyone ascribe the cause of the earth’s drying to the sun—the Creator rightly established the drying of the earth as prior to the birth of the sun. For observe more carefully in your understanding that not only the water which had remained upon the earth, but also that which lay hidden in the deeper parts, flowed out in service to the command of the Lord. And it was so done.

This addition, then, is sufficient, declaring that the word of the Creator was put into effect; although it has been related in many cosmography manuscripts that the water which was under heaven was gathered into its gatherings, and the dry land appeared; which certainly neither does the edition of the remaining commentaries show to be so, nor does the usage of the Hebrews express. For in truth it would seem superfluous, after the testimony by which it is asserted that it was done so, for the narrative to be repeated again concerning the same things. And God called the dry land earth, and the stations of the waters he called seas. Why also in the preceding passages was it said, Let the waters be gathered into one gathering, and let the dry land appear, when it should rather have been said, Let the earth appear; and again: the dry land appeared, and God called the dry land earth? Since the dry land is evidently a species of property, designating that which is subject to nature; but earth is the bare naming of the cause. For just as rationality is proper to man, while man himself is the significative word of that animal whose property it is, so dryness is held to be the proper and principal quality of earth. Therefore the element which has properly obtained dryness is not undeservedly named earth; if, as the animal to which neighing is proper is called a horse.

But this must be noted not only concerning the earth, but also in the other elements a quality proper to each has been appointed, by which individual things are distinguished from the rest and it is clearly discerned what each itself is—that is, water retaining its own quality, by which it is shown to be cold; air has moisture; fire has heat. But these, as being the principal elements of composite things, according to the account that has been given, we can contemplate with the mind alone. Those, however, which have slipped into bodies and are subjected to sight possess qualities joined together in themselves, and none of them can be absolute or simple, since they are comprehended by the eyes and by sense. For earth is dry and cold, water is moist and cold, air is hot and moist, fire is hot and dry; and thus the power of nature, stirred up through these, brings it about that all things are linked together by the temperings of alternating mixture, and each coheres to the neighboring element through a shared quality, and on account of the community implanted in each, they are mixed with their contraries—as earth, which is dry and cold, is connected to waters through the kinship of coldness; but to air it is joined through water. For water, placed as the middle between these, as if by the stretching out of two hands, is joined to them by a twofold quality—that is, to earth by coldness, to air by moisture.

And again the air, by its interposition, is made the reconciler of opposing natures, that is, of fire and water: it is joined to fire indeed through heat, but to water through moisture. But fire, since by nature it is hot and dry, clings to the air through the intervention of heat, but through dryness it shares in the earth; and in this way, as it were a kind of circle and a compacted chorus, it seems to be made perfect by the elements agreeing with each other in turn. I have discussed these things for this reason, that the order might become clear on account of which the Lord named the dry land earth, and did not rather call the dry land soil. For dryness did not follow afterward, but was prior; inasmuch as it is the consummator of its substance, and therefore by right it is honored with the privileges of this name. Whence also the earth, as being principal, assumed the causes of its own designation.

And God saw that the water is good. The discourse does not signify that the beauty which shone forth from the face of the sea seemed good to the Lord by the loveliness of the creature, but by the ineffable wisdom which beholds the things that have been made. For to us the sea is truly delightful when it begins to gleam with settled tranquility, or when, ruffled by gentle breezes, it displays a purple color to those looking on; and when it does not strike the earth with violent waves, but as with peaceful embraces kisses it. Nevertheless, it is not to be thought that Scripture said the sea seemed good to God in this way; for there good is judged not by appearance, but by the reason of its making.

First, because the sea is a kind of fountain of all moisture that waters the earth; spread through hidden veins, as rocky and excavated places prove, the seawater passing through them, when it has been checked by certain mountainous obstacles, driven by the spirit by which it is urged, bursts through the broken barriers and comes forth into the light, now made drinkable, its natural bitterness laid aside through filtering; and it likewise receives a hot quality when it runs through certain metals, and becomes not only warm but even burning. This we find also in very many islands and on various maritime shores, since it is established that it happens thus even in inland regions. But why have we said this? To assert that every land is filled, through hidden and invisible veins, with flowing waters that draw their beginning from the sea.

The sea also seemed good to God, both because of the course it accomplishes in the depths of the earth, and because it is the receptacle of rivers and of all waters that roll down into it from every side, remaining within its own bounds. It is good also for this reason, that it is a kind of fountain and origin of the sharp waters. These, when warmed by the sun's heat, give off their finer moisture through subtle vapors, which, drawn up to a higher place and made cold, inasmuch as they are overshadowed by clouds, generate dews and rains.

And no one will disbelieve this, if he has looked at cauldrons foaming with heat, which, when they have been filled with water, with fire placed beneath, are often returned empty; although the sea's own water is also affirmed to be boiled away by the sun's rays, as sailors report. For the vapors exhaling from the deep are caught by brushes, and thus they console the burning of thirst. Nevertheless the sea seems good also because it confines the islands, affording them protection no less than adornment, and because it provides an approach navigable for fleets, and supplies merchants with the causes of wealth; and because very many parts of the earth unknown to their inhabitants are learned through the report of sailors, and much of the convenience of human life is contributed from the sea. For the things that abound with us we transport to other provinces and regions, and from there again what is less supplied here is brought in. But how will it be possible for me to describe the beauty of the sea, such as it seemed to the Creator? But if the sea is good and praiseworthy before God, how is the assembly of the catholic Church not judged more beautiful, in which the diversity of all ages and sexes, with voices of glorification poured out to God, returns a sound like the waves of the sea, which, firmly founded in the station of peace, sustains the shaking of no heretic's storm? Wherefore make yourselves worthy of heavenly reward, preserving the honor of this order in Christ Jesus, to whom be glory now and always, and for ages of ages. Amen.

BOOK FIVE.

Discussion concerning the herb, or plants.

1. And God said: Let the earth bring forth the herb of fodder, sowing seed according to its kind, and the fruitful tree, bearing fruit according to its kind, whose seed is in itself. Accordingly, after the earth had breathed again, having now struggled free from the weight of the waters, the command was given to it to bring forth first the herb, then the fodder: which we see even now come to pass. For the word that was then uttered, and that first command, was, as it were, a kind of law of nature, and it clung to the earth, granting it the power of creating and bearing fruit thereafter. Let the earth bring forth. First in the generation of things that spring up is the sprouting; then, when it has emerged a little, it becomes a herb; and when it has grown, it is reckoned as fodder. And the same thing, gradually maturing, is jointed; and so it coalesces all the way to the timely ripeness of seed. For the grassy and green kind is common to all. Let the earth bring forth the herb of fodder. That is, the earth was commanded to bring forth by itself, needing the aid of no one.

Since some people think that the sun provides the causes of growth for plants and seeds, in that by drawing its own heat it brings forth from the depths of the earth to the heights those things which spring up from the ground, for this reason the adornment of the earth's fertility shone forth before the sun, so that the occasion of worshiping the sun, as though it were the author of things that grow, might be taken away from those who are placed in error—if indeed they can be persuaded that before the sun itself was created, the earth was already beautiful with its fruits, considering that the sun is later in coming to be than the herbs and fodder. What then shall we say—that the Creator indeed stored up nourishment for cattle, but had no care of provision worthy of our race? It is not so. For he who prepared pasture for your oxen and horses certainly supplied you with richer wealth and an abundance of enjoyment, and stored up supports for your life through their nourishment. And what else should the production of seeds be understood to be than the instruction of your stewardship? since it is not to be doubted that garden herbs and the roots of wild palms supply food to men. And although there is some kind of herbs suited to the uses of others, not our own, yet that very thing seems nonetheless to contribute to our profit, and the benefit of all seeds is felt to be assigned to us; and this is assuredly established to be the understanding concerning the things that have been said.

Let the earth bring forth the herb of fodder and seed-bearing seed according to its kind." He speaks rightly; for in this way the order of the narrative will stand consistently, which now is somehow thought to contradict itself; and the necessity of the natural dispensation will be fulfilled. For first there is germination, then the herb, after this the succession of fodder, which the perfection of seed soon accompanies. How then does the discourse declare that all things which are born from the earth are seed-bearing, when neither the reed, nor grass, nor mint, nor crocus, nor very many other things obtain the beginning of their birth from seed? To these things we answer that certain of those things which the earth produces are believed to possess the power of seed in their roots and in their base, just as the reed, after fresh growths, again sends up another offspring from its root, about to extend a renewal of its stalk for the future. But not only the reed does this, but also a thousand other things which, being born beneath the soil, preserve a reviving offspring in their root. Hence it has been proven true that for each of the things that are born, either seed is available for renewing its kind, or a certain seminal power is attached. And this is what he says, "according to its kind." For the offspring of the reed cannot be held to be the creator of olive trees; but from a reed another reed arises, through the likeness of kinship, and thus what the earth produced from the first generation is preserved up to now by the succession of posterity. "Let the earth bring forth.

Consider how from a small word and a very brief command the dry and barren earth suddenly gives birth, and, driven to the fruit of fruitfulness, as if having laid aside a kind of mourning garment and put on brighter clothing, exulting in the cultivation of its own beauty, it poured forth all that it had conceived at the heavenly command. I desire therefore that the wonders of creation should adhere more deeply in your senses: so that wherever you are found and have stood as a spectator of any kind of living thing, you may receive a magnificent remembrance of the Creator, and before all things, when you see the herb of hay or the flower, you may immediately turn yourself to the image of human nature, remembering the example of the wise Isaiah: "All flesh is like hay, and all the glory of man is like the flower of hay" (Isa. 40:6). For indeed the brevity of this life, and its least joy, and the gladness of mortals over prosperous things, has been quite fittingly compared by the prophet. For today someone seems refreshed in limbs, strong in face, in the prime of youth, raging in strength, and not to be borne in his onslaught. He is found miserable the very next day, when he is either broken by old age or wastes away with sickness. Another likewise is held in esteem, and filled with the greatest resources of wealth, supported by services, surrounded by a crowd of friends received—even pretended ones—and encircled by the watches of parasites or flattering relatives, and going out and coming in he incurs envy along with reproach.

For he cannot avoid this disease, since it stands out plainly. Add to riches civil power as well, and honors conferred by princes, governorships of nations, commands of soldiers, heralds resounding with terrifying voice before him, and lictors bearing the fasces accompanying him on this side and that, and bringing the heaviest terror upon suppliants; add beatings, proscriptions, public auctions, chains, prisons, from which an unbearable dread is heaped up for those subject to him. What then? One night, and an attack of fever, a pain in the side, and a gasping of the lung, tears the man away from among men, and his whole stage is suddenly uncovered, and that so great power is seen as if it were a dream that has passed. Therefore the prophet in timely fashion compared the likeness of human glory to the weakness of flowers.

Let the earth bring forth grass for fodder, sowing seed according to its kind. Up to now, then, the order of things being born is a witness to the first arrangement. For germination comes before all things that are generated, and if anything bursts forth from the root, as the crocus and grass do, it must first germinate, and after this be seen as green hay, and thus be brought to ripe fruit, the stalk already turning yellow. Let the earth bring forth grass for fodder.

When the seed, then, has fallen upon the soil and has been softened moderately by moisture and warmth, it is presently joined to the bosom of the earth, receiving thereafter certain generative nourishments, and gliding gradually it sinks into its veins; and with its exceedingly minute fibers spread out, by growing it bursts through the swelling of the earth above it, and now firmly established, it rises easily, unfolding upward as many stalks as it has extended roots downward. And thus the tenderness of the sprout, warmed by the heat beneath, which has slipped in through the roots by the drawing of warmth, and is applied to the earth's nourishments: it diffuses part of itself into the stalk, draws part into the bark, supplies part to the grains, extends part into the ears. And in this way, as the coalescing proceeds, each several part gradually arrives at its own measure. Therefore, whether it be wheat, or a legume, or a garden herb, or a shrub, it can sufficiently instruct your understanding, whereby you may behold the wisdom of the founder and craftsman: how the stalk of wheat is girded about as with knees, so that, bound by frequent joints, it may more easily bear up the burden of the ears, when, bent by the weight of maturity, they have begun to incline downward. And for this reason the stalk of oats is held to be wholly empty: because, that is, it bears no weight at its head. But the nature of wheat he fortified otherwise with long provisions, whose grains he placed with exceedingly great foresight in husks, so that they not be snatched away by birds.

And for this reason the cause of the grain has reasonably set bristles around it, like spears, by whose points the smaller creatures are driven away. 4. Why should I speak, or why should I keep silent, as I look upon the abundant treasures of creation? To attain the better things is indeed difficult, but the loss of what is omitted is not to be borne. "Let the earth bring forth the herb of fodder." Presently, along with the means of sustenance, harmful things also come forth—that is, with the wheat comes the tares, and with the other seeds come hellebore, and aconite, and mandrake, and the juice of the poppy. What then? Having set aside thanksgiving for the munificence of the Creator, shall we accuse him for the production of harmful things? By no means. Let us consider this: that not all things were made for our belly; but the banquets allotted to you are as ready as they are well known. But each one of the things that have been generated has its own proper reason. For it is not because the drinking of bull's blood is held to be deadly that the animal itself ought not to have been made, or not to be seen at all—the labor of which is certainly reckoned to be very necessary for the various uses of our life. But for you the reasonableness familiar to human beings will suffice for avoiding the things that are harmful.

For if sheep and goats possess a natural sense of avoiding harmful things, discerning injury by understanding alone, can you—who have at hand both the faculty of speech and the skill of the medical art, exploring remedies for health, and through frequent experience of things, by showing us escapes from evils—tell me, will you find it difficult to avoid dangers, when nothing of these things has been established idly or uselessly? For either they provide pasture for certain flocks, or they bring solace to us in sickness for health. For starlings are accustomed to eat hemlock, whose poison they are said to avoid in proportion to their own body. For the breathings adjacent to their heart are very thin, and it happens to them that they digest what they have taken before the coldness reaches their innermost intestines. Hellebore is also customary as food for quails; they avoid its pestilential venom by a certain tempering of their nature. But all these things are believed to help us as well. For from the sleep-inducing mandrake are compounded medicines that will benefit the most grievous pains of the limbs. Some have mitigated the most troublesome craving to eat by means of hemlock; certain others have extinguished longstanding vices of the body through hellebore. Therefore, from the very source from which you thought to bring a charge of crime against the Creator, you rather obtain for yourself increases of praise to be rendered.

Let the earth bring forth. How much nourishment, then, does he say is found spontaneously in the leaves of herbs, in roots, and in seeds, or how much is contributed by cultivation and diligence—although he did not immediately command that fruit and seed be produced, but decreed that the earth first germinate and grow green, and then that the seed mature, so that that first command might become a document of nature for the principle of what follows. How, then, does the earth produce seeds according to their kind, when we sow golden wheat and often gather black? We shall say that this does not pertain to a change of kind, but was a certain weakness and languor of the seed. For what was blackened by scorching did not cease to be wheat, as we can recognize from the very name itself, because the species, parched by an excess of cold, transferred the seed into another color and flavor. And conversely, if the field proves fertile and enjoys the clemency of the sky, it soon reverts to its former appearance. But darnel and the other adulterated kinds, which Scripture now calls zizania, mixed in with the food crops, are not generated from the corruption of wheat, but are born from their own proper origin.

The consideration of these things must be applied to those who overturn the Lord's commandments and do not receive the word of admonition sincerely, but, corrupted by wicked teaching, dare to mingle themselves with the wholesome members of the Church, so that the hidden destruction of their disease may creep secretly into sound minds; although the Lord compares the perfection of those who believe in him to the gradual increases of seed, saying thus: As a man should cast seed upon the earth, and he should sleep and rise night and day, and the harvest is brought forth and grows, he himself not knowing. For the earth bears fruit of itself: first the grass, then the ear. Let the earth bring forth grass (Mark 4:26). It begins in the briefest moment of time, the earth starting from germination, so that it might fulfill the law of the Creator, having advanced through all the stages of growth, and soon it raised what was being born to maturity. You could see at that time all the glades shining with the greenness of herbs; the fields also adorned with swelling harvests, in some manner imitating the image of a tossing sea with the motions of the ears of grain. Then every grass and every kind of garden herb, and whatever is of shrubs or of seed, stood forth upon the earth with abundant fruits. Then there was no despair to be feared for the seeds: no sloth of the cultivators to be blamed, not the intemperance of the air, not the complaint of any cause bringing corruption to the crops, not any condemnation that could hinder the fertility of the lands.

For afterward sin came into being, on account of which we were condemned to eat our bread in the sweat of our face.

6. Among these things he also commanded that the fruit-bearing tree spring up, making fruit, whose seed is in itself according to its kind and likeness. Therefore at the utterance of this word all the groves were at once made dense, and even the trees whose custom it is to rise on high—that is, the olive, the cedar, the cypress, and the pine—and likewise the shrubs were clothed with leaves and the bushes with foliage. Nay, even those plants which are called garland-plants—I mean rose-beds, myrtle-groves, and laurel-groves—within a single moment of time, though before they did not exist, each sprang up with its own peculiar property, the one distinguished from the other by most manifest proof and brought forth by a definite designation. Yet at that time the rose was without a thorn. For afterward a thorn was added to its beauty, so that, clearly, anxiety might be close to pleasure, reminding us of sin, on account of which the earth was condemned to bring forth thorns and briars. Indeed, the earth is commanded also to produce the tree that makes fruit; but we see many trees bearing neither seed nor fruit. To this we shall say that the more useful things deserved to be committed to memory first of all; then, to those who inquire subtly, it will become clear either that all trees are seed-bearing or that they possess a power like that of seed.

For the poplar, or the elm, and the willow, and other such trees, seem indeed to bring forth no manifest fruit; yet if anyone examines more attentively, he will find seed in them. For beneath their leaves there is placed a grain which those who devote themselves to the composition of words are accustomed to call the mischum; this possesses the power of seed. For those things which are born from the planting of branches pour forth roots from themselves in great abundance. Perhaps those buds also which are thrust out from the stock have a certain reason of seed, which farmers, having torn them off for the sake of propagating the kind, are accustomed to plant. Yet first, as we said above, those trees are held worthy of mention which, sustaining our life by their fruits and nourishing man, were to make the freedom of enjoying them an object of envy to him: as the vine which generates wine gladdening the heart of man, and the olive bearing fruit which gladdens the countenance in mercy. How many other things then were springing forth together urgently, nature producing them! And so the root of the vine has green shoots around it, spread through the earth, from which first a bud arises, which becomes a wild vine, and after this a grape. The vine, then, even when prudently inspected, is sufficient to suggest to you the remembrance of nature. For you remember the example of the Lord's discourse, in which he says that he is the vine, but the Father the cultivator.

But each one of us, who have been grafted into the Church through faith, he called branches, urging us to bear abundant fruit, lest, accused of sloth, we be given over to eternal flames. Moreover, he does not cease comparing the souls of men to vines everywhere. For thus he says: A vineyard was made for the beloved on a fat hill (Isa. 5:1). And again: I planted a vineyard, and surrounded it with a hedge (Matt. 21:33), indicating, that is, the souls of men, which he enclosed with the fortification of heavenly commandments, with the guardianship of angels likewise added, as it is written: The Lord shall send his angel round about those who fear him, and he shall deliver them (Ps. 33:8). Then, as it were, he raised up certain stakes by which we might be supported: those appointed in the Church, first apostles, second prophets, third teachers (1 Cor. 12:28). And so, rousing us by the examples of the ancient saints, he led us upward on high, nor did he at all suffer our mind, lying on the ground, to become worthy of being trampled by others. He wishes us also, bound as it were by certain vine-tendrils, that is, by the embraces of charity, and loving each one our neighbor, always to strive with the impulse of the soul toward higher things, made like to branches which are accustomed, by growing little by little, to reach the very tops of trees. He requires us also to endure digging. For the mind is dug, by the laying aside of worldly cares, which make a heavy burden in our hearts.

Therefore, he who has cast aside the enticements of bodily pleasure and has despised the ambition of accursed glory and riches, shining like a well-tilled field, begins to breathe freely, with every stain of earthly conduct wiped away. It befits us also, according to the sense of the proverb, not to flow out in wanton excess—that is, not to live ostentatiously, nor to chase the splendor of outward praise—but to present ourselves as fruitful, showing diligence to the true cultivator and worker of good deeds. But you, like a fruitful olive tree, do not strip yourself bare of hope, but always keep the green and vigorous constancy of faith. For thus you will seem to imitate the vitality of that tree and its fruitful abundance, if you most generously bestow mercy at all times.

But now let us return to the examination of the Artisan's arrangement. How many kinds of trees existed then, of which some are fruitful, others fit for casting away, some suited for building ships, and some necessary for hearths? Again, in these a varied adornment is observed, whose peculiar nature is difficult to investigate, as is the difference of each. For some are attached by deeper roots, others by the surface and shallow ones; some stretch upward and are fixed to single trunks, others are lower; and some pour forth more shoots from their stems.

And those whose tops are lofty have roots that are manifold and deeper, and spread abroad in a circle; these nature has placed beneath them like a kind of foundation, so that the mass placed upon them may be supported. How great also is the diversity in their bark, of which some are smooth and glossy, some knotty and rough, others simple, and certain ones even bound together with many trunks? And what you will marvel at more, a likeness of human old age and youth is found in them. For the bark of young and vigorous shoots is drawn out and taut; but that of aging ones is wrinkled and rough. From these, certain ones, when they have been cut off, sprout again; others, as soon as they are truncated, dry up, as if enduring a kind of death from the injury of the cut. It has indeed been proven by many that pines, when burned or cut, transform themselves into a grove bearing acorns. It is known also that certain ones, tended by the diligence of cultivators, have been wholly freed from their natural badness. For pomegranates that are more sour, or bitter almonds, they say can be softened in this way: a wedge of pinewood, with their trunks bored through near the root, is driven through the middle of the hinge, about to remove all the unpleasantness of the unsuitable flavor by a change to sweetness. Therefore let no man, overshadowed by the darkness of malice, despair of his own salvation, knowing that agriculture indeed brings the qualities of fruits back to better, but spiritual labor is able to overcome the wickedness of all diseases.

And indeed we see such great difference in the fruitfulness of trees as we cannot explain even in words. For the distinction of fruits is not contained only in the alternating kind, but in individual trees also very great diversity is found. Since, indeed, one appearance is reported of the male fruit and another of the female, as the skill of cultivators has handed down; some of whom also affirm that palms are of twin sex. For she who is named female among them is seen, as it were, to bend her own branches toward the male, seeking intercourse, so that she may conceive from his mingling. Whence ingenious farmers, having taken certain eyes from the male, are said to insert them into the female; and thus, as if filled with the desired intercourse, with the arms immediately drawn back she returns to her former state. These things are also told concerning figs. For it is said that certain persons set wild plants beside garden plants; some also bind the fruit of the wild fig to domestic figs, for the sake of conferring health, so that they may be able to retain their fruits when falling. By the figure of this matter, evidently, we are believed to be warned to recognize that often we must also take an example of faith from foreigners, in order to declare the profession of good works.

For if you have seen anyone from among the Gentiles or heretics, separated from the Church of the Lord, honored by the refinements of life and morals, you must strive more earnestly and increase your zeal more and more, so that you may be able to draw near to that fruitful fig tree which, having borrowed vigor from association with the wild trees, has absorbed the faults of a troublesome flow and has seized the supports of neighboring fertility.

Therefore, if such is the principle of their generation that we have been able to set forth but a few things in place of many, who could run through the varieties, qualities, and forms of all fruits, and how great the usefulness in each one, when some are ripened by being cooked by the sun, and others grow full when protected by the guard of coverings? And how is it that the leaves of those which bear soft fruit are stronger, as in the fig; while of those whose fruit is harder, the texture of the membranes is finer, as in nuts: because the fig, evidently on account of the weakness of its fruit, demands the help of greater assistance, while for nuts the denser shade of leaves could have caused injury. The vine-shoot also, how reasonably is it perfected in a many-cleft formation, so that the grape, through the part which is covered, may repel the injury of the air, but through the part which is open, may receive the nourishment of the sun's heat. We see nothing therefore done by chance, nothing irrational. There is in all things a certain ineffable and wondrous wisdom.

But what mind or whose eloquence will suffice to comprehend all these things in detail, so as to be able both to contemplate the properties and to discern the differences of each, or to search out the secrets of causes deeply hidden? How is it that one and the same moisture, drawn up through the roots of trees, is dispersed into numerous functions, nourishing the root itself in one way, the bark in another, the trunk in another, and the pith in another? And how does it now become a leaf, now is formed into vine-shoots and branches, and provides nourishment for the fruits to grow? The same material also pours forth, as it were, certain tears through the branches, and who could explain how great is the difference among them? For one is the tear of the schinus, another the juice of the balsam, and another is the sweat that flows from Egyptian and Libyan ferulas. There is also a report that electrum is the tear of a certain tree, hardened in the manner of stone. As testimony to this matter there are twigs, or small flies, which, settling in the flowing sap of electrum, stuck fast when it congealed. And altogether, no one except one who has been taught by experience can give a full account of their qualities: how again from that same moisture the vine produces wine, the olive oil. And this alone is not wonderful, that here it becomes sweet and there rich: but that in the fruits themselves a manifold variety is shown by the change of flavor.

For there is one quality of sweetness in the grape, another in the apple, another in the fig, another in the date. I wish you therefore to examine this matter still more closely: how it is that moisture seems most pleasant to the sense of the lips and to the taste, when in certain fruits, once maturity has been brought on, it grows sweet, while in others it is sharp and distressing when it turns sour. But it grieves the sense by excessive bitterness, when it has spread itself in wormwood or in scammony. In oak, however, or in cornelian fruits, it becomes astringent and harsh; in the terebinth, however, or in the nut, it receives a soft and fatty substance.

But why do we pursue distant examples, when in one and the same fig the moisture is sometimes most bitter in the sap, sometimes most sweet in the fruit, and in the vine it is sharp when it buds, sweet in the ripe grape? How great, too, would you say are the distinctions of colors? Finally, if ever you look upon flowering fields, you will see the same liquid, how it is indeed crimson in this flower, but purple or white or golden in another, and it shows again a greater difference of odor than of color. But now I feel that my discourse, through eagerness for contemplation, is creeping forth into immense expanses. Unless I bind it and bring it back to the necessity of creation, the day will surely fail me, as I unfold to you the magnificent wisdom from the comparison of lesser things: Let the earth bring forth a fruitful tree making fruit.

As soon as the command was given and granted, the ridges of the mountains were thickly clad with leafy trees, cultivated gardens were seen, and the banks of rivers were filled with different kinds of foliage. Some of these were appointed to adorn the tables of mortals, some to provide fodder for cattle, others are suited for medicinal uses; and, to speak briefly, whatever the long experience of things has gathered for us, collecting from every side what is necessary, this the swift dispensation of the Creator, foreseeing from the beginning what was to be, established to be brought forth. But when you have seen domestic plants, woodland, earthly, aquatic, and flowering ones, recognize the greater through the least, yet in such a way that you add to your own admiration a love of the Creator, by inquiring how He makes certain kinds of trees always green, some which are stripped bare in winter, and again of those which are always green, certain ones are accustomed to change their leaves secretly, so that through this they can never be despoiled of their own foliage, as is the olive or the pine; others He ordains to be clothed with evergreen leaves, such as the palm, which, having received these from their first sprouting, are believed to be content with them to the very end. Consider this also, how the tree which is called the myrice is, as it were, of an ambiguous kind, since it delights no less in wetter places than in drier ones. For this reason Jeremiah wisely compares to this shrub the various and changeable manners of men.

Let the earth bring forth. Therefore this brief command compels the earth to bring forth its own powers, as great as it has, in each year's cycles, to form the kinds of herbs, seeds, and trees. For just as a pinewood top, set in motion by the stroke of the first blow, unfolds its twisting circles in curving courses, and once fixed on a sharp point spins itself around, so the reason of nature, having received its beginning from God's earlier command, passes through every age until it arrives at the common boundary and end. Let us too hasten to that end, filled with the fruits of good works, so that planted in the house of the Lord we may flourish in the court of the most loving God, in Christ Jesus, to whom be glory and honor always, and forever and ever. Amen.

BOOK SIX

1. Spectators of athletic contests ought to share in the condition of the combatants, which will easily be approved by the producers of the quinquennial games, who order those gathered in the stadium to sit with heads bared. For this reason, as it seems to me, so that each person may be present not only as a spectator but also as a partaker of the sweat. Thus, clearly, the seeker of the greatest and most excellent spectacles, and the hearer of the highest and ineffable wisdom, ought to bring his own reasons to the contemplation of the matter proposed, and to share the burden of the labor with me as far as he can, judging himself to stand by rather as a partner than as a judge; lest perhaps the discovery of the truth escape us, and through my fault the loss become common with the hearers. To what end have I said this?