In HexameronSancti Basilii Latina Metaphrasis

Since, namely, the discussion set before us concerns the composition of the world, having its beginning not from worldly wisdom but from the things the Lord taught his servant Moses in visible form, speaking to him not through a figure. Therefore it is necessary that those who are most zealous observers of the greatest matters engage these present questions with a mind not untrained. And so if at any time under a serene night you have looked up at the ineffable beauty of the stars, I believe that, captivated by the creator of all things, you have asked who it was that variegated the heaven with such lights, and how in those things which are seen their usefulness is approved with greater delight; and likewise if by day, examining with a sober mind, you have considered the daytime wonders, and through the reason of things visible have reckoned him who is held to be invisible, you have come altogether ready to hear, showing yourself worthy of the celebration of this honorable and blessed spectacle. Wherefore I will do what those men are accustomed to do who, taking strangers to cities by the hand, lead them to their destinations—that is, I will introduce you, as being ignorant, to the hidden wonders of this greatest city. In this city, then, is situated our ancient homeland, from which the murderous devil carried us away, enticed by his allurements.

Here, beholding the first generation of man, and the death that thereafter followed upon us, which sin brought forth—sin being the firstborn offspring of the ancient demon—you recognize there that man is indeed earthly by nature, but the work of divine hands; in constitution far inferior to the beasts, yet appointed prince of things animate and inanimate; weak in his natural instruments, yet raised up to heaven itself by the aid of reason. If we have learned these things, we shall indeed recognize ourselves, we shall remember God, we shall adore the Creator, we shall serve the Lord, we shall glorify the Father, we shall revere the Benefactor, and we shall not cease to venerate the Author of our present and future life, who through the riches he has bestowed upon us also displays the trustworthiness of those things he has promised, and who by the experience of things present confirms also the things that are hoped for. For if temporal things are of such a kind, what must eternal things be? If visible things are so good, what must those that are not seen be? If the magnitude of the heaven exceeds the measure of the human mind, who could suffice to estimate the nature of eternal things? If the sun, subject to corruption, is so good and great—swift in motion, ordered in its courses, having a fitting magnitude, by which it cannot transgress the mean appointed for all things? Moreover, the beauty of nature, like a certain clear eye, furnishes ornament to the world. If the gazing upon it is insatiable, what will the sun of righteousness be thought to be in beauty? If it is a loss to the blind man not to see this sun, how great a loss p.

Is the sinner deprived of the true light?

And God said: Let there be lights in the firmament of heaven to illuminate the earth, and let them divide between day and night. Heaven, of course, and earth had come first; light had already been made over them; day had been separated from night; the dry land had already been revealed; the water had been gathered into the station assigned to it; the earth was filled with its fruits—indeed, it had sprouted thousands of herbs and abounded in various kinds of plants. But the sun and moon did not yet exist, lest those who do not know God call him the prince and father of light, or suppose him to be the author of things that grow from the earth. For this reason, on the fourth day he said: Let there be lights, and God made two lights. Who gave the command? Who obeyed? Do you not observe in these words a doubling of persons? Everywhere, therefore, the doctrine of the Godhead is woven into the historical narrative by a mystical account, and the reason for creating the lights—namely, to illuminate the earth—is at hand. How is it, then, that if light had come before, the sun is now said to have been appointed for illumination? First of all, let the simplicity of our speech provoke no laughter in you, if we do not strive for the elegance of your eloquence, nor pursue the cadences of clauses. For we are not accustomed to cultivate elaborate arrangements of words or a euphonious delivery; but we hold that the honorable meaning of the words is everywhere to be preferred.

Notice, therefore, how by nature he sufficiently declared what he willed: for instead of illumination he names the luminaries, which is in no way contrary to what was said above concerning the light. For then the nature of light was produced; now, however, only the body was made, over which that firstborn light is borne. For just as fire is one thing and a lamp another—of which the one possesses the power of giving light, while the other is formed for the sake of ministering light to those who need it—so also those most pure and most sincere lights have these luminaries subjected to them as, so to speak, vehicles, although the Apostle calls certain ones luminaries of the world. But there is another true light of the world, from whose outpouring the saints, once illumined, became luminaries for those souls whom, teaching the truth, they freed from the darkness of ignorance. Thus also this visible sun shines, kindled by that principal splendor.

And let it seem incredible to no one that we have said the splendor of light is one thing and the body subjected to the light another, first because composite things are divided into two parts, that is, into receptive matter and into the quality that has befallen it. Just as, therefore, natural brightness is one thing and that which glows is another, so those things which have been spoken of seem indeed to differ from one another by nature, but they are joined together by the power of the Creator.

And do not say to me that it is impossible for these to be separated from one another; for I do not establish for myself and for you a comprehensible separation of light from the body of the sun, but because it is reckoned by us to be divisible only in opinion. Clearly, by the nod of the Creator, these can easily be separated from their nature. Finally, it is altogether impossible for us to distinguish the heat of the sun from its brightness, but God, wishing to turn His fame to a wondrous vision, so applied flame to the bush that He showed only the power of its brightness, its burning heat being laid aside. As the psalm also testifies, saying: The voice of the Lord dividing the flame of fire. Hence also in the retributions of the sins that we have contracted in life, a certain more secret reasoning teaches us that the nature of fire is to be divided: its light will be assigned to enlighten the just, but its heat will profit to consume sinners. Although also concerning the passions of the moon we can easily grasp faith in the things sought, for as it wanes it is not entirely expended in its whole body; but, now laying aside and now receiving the light inserted in itself, it exhibits to us certain phantasies of its own conception and diminution. For because, as it ages, its whole body is by no means expended, the things we see are testimony: for it is permitted you, in air free and lacking cloudy vapors, to observe the waning moon, when it is round according to its shape, when its globe, from that side which is dark, is circumscribed by such an orb as when it is full of light.

Seeing it clearly whole and perfect, he revealed it in that part in which it shines. And do not say to me that its light is adventitious, since it diminishes when it is turned opposite the sun, and grows when it has departed from it. For it is not our purpose to discuss this in such a way, but rather that its body is one thing and the cause of its light another. Understand something of this sort, then, also concerning the nature of the sun, which for this reason alone seems to differ from the moon: that the former in no way lays down the light once received and implanted in itself, while the latter, often stripped and again clothed with light, will easily be able from itself to confirm even the things said about the sun. These luminaries, therefore, were appointed to divide between day and night, whose nature was then deprived of their alternating opposition, so that they might conduct themselves toward one another without reproach, and there could be no community of darkness with light. For what shadow is by day, this is reckoned as obscurity in the night. And just as every shadow is emitted from bodies subjected to light—in the morning stretching toward the west, in the evening inclining toward the east, and at the midday hours bending toward the north—so night itself also, driven back by the rays of light, withdraws. What else is its nature to be understood as, than the overshadowing of the world? For just as on a bright day a shadow soon accompanies anyone standing under the sunrise, so when the air nearest the lands is overshadowed, night is made; and this is what it says: God separated between the light and the darkness.

For almost always darkness flees the approach of light, since for these from their first generation a natural estrangement has been fitted between them. But now he has appointed the sun to complete the spans of day, and the moon, when it has filled its own orb, he established as the ruler of the night; and by a fixed measure these luminaries yield place to one another in turn. For as the sun advances, the moon, if it is full, straightway is led to its setting. And again, when the sun has set bounds to its course, this one begins to rise. But if according to other configurations the lunar light does not equal the span of the night, it is of no concern to the question proposed, for those who assert it on account of a cloud, since when the moon is perfect it covers the sovereignty of the night, surpassing the stars with its own radiance and illuminating the earth; and it shares the measure of time equally with the sun.

And let them be, he says, for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and for years. You will therefore find the notations and observations of signs necessary for human life, as longer experience teaches, provided you do not inquire into them more than is fitting. For we can learn many things about future rains; very many also about the vapors of the earth and the motions of the winds, whether coming in parts or blowing generally everywhere, and whether they are going to come violently or gently. One thing therefore is held among the demonstrations, which the Lord showed us, saying that a storm is coming when the sky begins to be darkened with a fiery redness.

For when clouds come up, the darkened rays are seen with a ruddy and blood-red color, since the density of the air evidently presents such an appearance to our eyes; and this air, not yet compressed by the force of heat, and being continually thickened by the vapors rising from it and by the increase of waters more and more, threatens the regions in which it has gathered with a most certain storm. The same also happens when the moon is seen surrounded by a halo, or when the circle called the "area" has encircled the sun; it surely announces a great abundance of waters or the roar of future winds, or when those things that are called "counter-suns" have been seen running about around it; indeed they portend that certain falls of the ethereal expanse are imminent. Just as those streaks also that appear in the color of the rainbow beneath the morning clouds signify violent rains and storms, or some disturbance of the sky in every way. Very many indications also, as the moon waxes or wanes, those who have devoted themselves to this science are said to have noted, asserting that the air nearest the earth is necessarily changed according to the phases and qualities of the moon. For when it is in its third phase, if it appears slender and with horns not at all blunt, it declares a stable and firm serenity. But if it is held to be ruddy and fat with horns, it threatens excessive rains and southern violence. Who, then, does not know how much advantage the observation of these things confers on men?

For those about to sail can keep their fleet within the harbor, foreseeing dangers to come; likewise the traveler, made cautious by the gloom of the sky, waits for a time of calm; farmers too, giving careful attention to seeds and plants, instructed by the signs mentioned, await the fitting opportunity. What of the fact that the Lord also foretold portents to be seen in the sun, the moon, and the stars at the dissolution of all things, saying: The sun shall be turned into blood, and the moon shall not give her light. But these are signs of the world's consummation, as we have said.

But those who try to extend their salt-marsh beyond the ditch turn the course of the proposed discourse to the account of genesis. For they claim that our life depends on the motion of the heavenly bodies; and for this reason the Chaldeans assert that the notations of the stars pertain to human fortunes, and transferring the simple statement of Scripture, which says "in signs," not, that is, to the change of the air or the quality of the seasons, but to the lot of human life, they expound it as seems to them; saying that the combination of certain wandering stars, when they come together in accordance with some such figure, for example, with those stars which move in the circle of the zodiac, is accustomed to produce a definite genesis; and again, if their arrangement is otherwise, it sets forth contrary decrees. Concerning these things it will perhaps not be useless, for the sake of opening up the question, if I begin a little further back with the series of the narrative repeated.

But I say this not as something of my own, but for the sake of refuting them, I will use their own boasts: so that both those who have been overtaken by error may receive remedies for the injury they have conceived, and the rest may find some protection, lest they suffer similar things. Therefore the inventors of the genethliacal system, having learned by long experience that many things escape them in their schemes, have reduced it to a very narrow measure of time, so that even in the smallest interval, as the Apostle says: In a moment, and in the twinkling of an eye (1 Cor. 15:52), there is a great difference between one geniture and another, asserting that he who is born in this point will be a king and leader of peoples, destined to obtain the greatest power and many riches; but he who is created in that moment will be a beggar and a wanderer, and for the sake of daily sustenance will go about the doors of various people. For this reason they divide the circle which is called the zodiac into twelve parts; since the sun passes through the twelfth place of the sphere in thirty days—the sphere which is called the inerrant one. And again they lead each member of the thirtyfold parts through spaces of twelve: whose individual portions they again distribute into another sixty, and they enumerate the portions of those sixty sixty times over. Therefore, arranging the geniture of those being born in this way, let us see whether they can preserve this subtlety under the dimension of time.

For as soon as the infant has come forth from the womb, the midwife must be watching to say whether what has been born is a boy or a girl, and she waits for the cry by which she may take the sign of the little one being alive. How great a quantity of time, while these things are being done, you would say sixty moments have passed. And so, while it is being made known to the astrologer that the child has been brought forth, how many points we say have slipped by, while the answers are being given in the meantime. And even if it happens that the one who records the hour of the birth stands outside the doors of the chamber, the tablet must be consulted, so that the course of the hours, whether they were of the day or of the night, can be calculated carefully and without any interruption. How great a number of sixtieths, then, will be thought to have passed in that very time? For it is necessary that a star be found which stands not only in whatever part of the space of two-twelfths, but even in whatever point of the portion divided twelve times, or rather in whatever moment of the sixtieths it is found, in which we have said the lot of the decrees was divided, or, that the truth be sought altogether, in whatever one of those sixtieths I show, which are made up from the first sixtieths. But they affirm that this so thoroughly unraveled and incomprehensible discovery of the time must be made in each and every one of the planets: so that it may be known what disposition it bore toward the wandering stars, or what configuration they held among themselves, when the little infant was born.

For if the hour has not been carefully watched, and it happens that even a little of that most subtle reckoning is changed, the whole observation is utterly confounded. Those who have devoted themselves to the studies of this inexplicable discipline are indeed worthy of laughter, but far more so are those who eagerly gape at them as though they knew something.

And so they are accustomed to foretell events and even the appearances of individuals, declaring that this one will be curly-haired and lively, since his hour is placed in Aries—for such is the appearance of that animal—and he will be of great power, since the ram is principal. They say he will also be a leader and a man of gain, since that flock easily takes back the wool it has laid down without trouble, nature ministering it. But one who is created under Taurus will be tyrannical and laborious, and likewise servile, for the bull is accustomed to submit its neck to the yoke. But one who is born under the sign of Scorpio will be held to be wound-inflicting, as being like that creature; but one who has been brought forth under the hour of Libra is made just, on account of the equity that is preserved in the balance. What could be more laughable than these things? Aries, then, from which they initiate nativities for men, is held to be the twelfth part of heaven; and if the sun has stood in it, ethereal signs occur; Libra also, or Taurus, is the twelfth portion of the zodiacal circle.

How then do you assert the principal causes of mortal life from this, claiming that the minds of those born from earthly beasts take their forms from them, and saying that the ram-like man will be generous—not because that part of heaven which governs character is the perfecting cause of his ways, but because such is the nature of a sheep? You therefore urge us, by the pre-eminent dignity of the stars—or rather you try to persuade us—to lend you our assent through dumb beasts. But if the very pole itself has the properties of character taken from animals, it too is subject to alien necessities, since it has derived the first principles of causes from quadrupeds. But if you say this is absurd, you will pronounce that far more absurd—that you should dare to bring assertions concerning those things which appear to have nothing in common with us. Yet these arguments of theirs are like spiders' webs, in which, if a gnat or a fly has settled, it is caught entangled; but when something stronger falls upon them, it immediately passes through, and breaks the weak fabric.

Yet they are not altogether content with these things, but wandering they proceed further. For matters that are placed in the freedom of our will—that is, virtues or vices—they attribute to the necessities of the heavenly bodies. Although it is laughable to contradict them, nevertheless, since many have fallen through this seduction, it seems fitting to me not to pass it over in silence. From them we ask first of all to acknowledge this: whether the configurations of the stars are not changed a thousand times each day. For those stars that are called planets are always moving and running about, some of them following with swift steps, some running more slowly, often within the same hour both beholding and hiding themselves. Surely the greatest force is held to lie in the geniture, as they say, if either a good star or a malignant one has looked upon the newborn. But it often happens that at the time when a good star has presided, the astrologer, not finding the time to declare it because of ignorance of one of the minutest portions that we mentioned above, describes that one as lying under an evil demon—so that I am compelled to use their own terms, in which there is indeed great folly, but greater impiety is held. For they transfer the causes of their own wickedness to their Maker, as if the more malignant stars were responsible: if wickedness were present in them by nature, the Maker would certainly have been the author of malignity.

But if they are made utterly base by their own purpose, then first indeed certain living things must be thought to be slaves of their own will, and driven by an unhindered and free impulse to whatever has pleased them, since it exceeds the measure of all madness to accuse lifeless things. Then how great an irrationality is it not to distinguish good or evil according to each one's own worth, but by the quality of a place, or in relation to another, to define either the best or the worst? And when the star has turned aside for a little while from its configuration, it is said to have forgotten its own malice. But these things, indeed, so far as this, at every single moment of time, as they say, transfer themselves into one configuration after another. In these, then, so many thousands of such great changes, how many decrees of royal births are to be thought to be formed every day? Why, then, are princes not produced on individual days? Or why is succession always preserved among them for the father of the empire? Because, evidently, the Demon refers the outcomes of his own children to the configuration of the stars; since for them kingship is conferred not by the fate of birth, but by the right of lineage. Did not Ozias, then, beget Joatham, and from Joatham was Acham born? And yet none of them incurred the hour of a servile condition.

Then, if we obtain the beginnings of virtues and vices not from our own free will but from the necessity of genesis, then, as I see it, lawgivers are superfluous, commanding us to pursue or avoid things; judges too are superfluous, adorning the honest with praise and punishing the wicked with penalties; the audacity of the murderer or thief must also be judged blameless, since, even if they had preferred to restrain their own hands from the deed, they could not have done so, on account of the inevitable impulse of necessity. All craftsmen must be reckoned vain, who seek the means of life by the labor of their hands. Further, the sweat of farmers is superfluous, since abundance of fruits could abound for them even without working. The merchant too would become rich in idleness, since genesis would have brought him money even against his will. But the hope of Christians, which is great, would have perished utterly, since in vain is justice cultivated or iniquity condemned, if we are permitted to do nothing at all according to our own judgment. For when the force of genesis and the fatal decree press upon us, the examination of just judgment finds no place at all. Let this much suffice to have been argued against them. For neither do you need longer discourses, since you abound in soundness of mind, nor does the time permit the limit of the disputation to be extended further.

But let us turn our discourse back to the remaining points. Let them be, it says, for signs and for seasons and for days and for years. We have already spoken of the signs; by seasons we surely understand the four parts of the turning year, that is, spring, summer, autumn, and winter. These, succeeding one another in turn, are tempered by the ordered courses of the luminaries. For winter comes when the sun dwells in the southern regions, drawing out the darkness of night over the clime which we inhabit with a longer span. Hence it comes about that the air nearest the earth is made cold, and all the cloudy vapors, gathered together, produce rains and snows and ice. But when the sun, returning from the southern quarter, has held the middle of the circle of heaven, then it distributes an equal measure of time to days and nights. And the higher it is borne up from the earth, the more it gradually establishes a tempering, through which spring advances, by whose benefit shrubs and trees put forth leaves, and all animals, whether of the land or of the water, stirred by the generative warmth, extend the propagation of their kind through the succession of offspring. Then the sun, soon bending toward the summer line, passes through the borders of the northern region, making the days longer for us, and having lingered longer in the air, it renders that air indeed blazing and scorching, but makes the earth drier, whence the desired capacity is provided for ripening seeds and fruits.

And at that time it is held to be more intense, and it makes the midday shadows shorter, since from too high a place it looks down upon our region, and the days are held to be longer at the time when the shadows are short; and conversely the days are short when the shadows have become longer. This happens among us who are named Heteroscii, that is, having shadows otherwise, and who dwell in the northern parts. For there are certain people who for a whole period of two days each year are in every way without shadow when they have stood under the midday sun; because the sun, placed directly over their very head, illuminates them with equal spaces on every side and allows the shadows to bend into no part at all. For even the water in their wells can scarcely receive the thinnest light from the sun into its basin, and for this reason certain people call them Ascii, that is, shadowless. But those who dwell outside the fragrant lands change their shadows in both directions. For those who seem to inhabit our region are believed always to cast their shadows toward the south, that is, toward midday; whence also they are named by certain people Amphiscii, that is, having two shadows. But all these things come about only as the sun travels toward the northern parts. From these things one must consider how great a heat of rays is produced, and how great a downfall it brings upon men.

After these things, therefore, the autumn season succeeds, which, holding equal portions of cold and heat, delivers us without trouble to the arrival of the following winter, that is, when the sun returns again from the northern parts to the southern region. These are the vicissitudes of the seasons, which, serving the courses of the sun, are believed to dispense our life. And let them be, he says, for signs and for days: not that the sun might make the day, but that it might govern the day. For once night and day were made before the luminaries were created, which the psalm also declares, saying: He set the sun in power over the day, the moon and the stars in power over the night. How, then, does the sun have power over the day? Because, carrying light about in itself, when it has approached the orb which we inhabit, with the darkness dissolved, it provides the day. Therefore anyone is not mistaken who calls this air, illuminated by the rays of the sun, day, and holds that this is the measure of daytime, because it dwells in the hemisphere, as they think, which is above the earth. But also in years, he says, these signs are disposed. When the moon has completed the spaces of its course twelve times, it makes a year: yet it demands for itself one month unknown to itself, so that the perfect concurrence of hours may be gathered more diligently: just as the Hebrews observed the year in ancient times, and the most ancient of the Greeks. But the solar year is called the ordering of the sun, as it revolves again from a certain sign through its own footsteps into the same one.

And God made two great lights. The designation of "great" therefore has a twofold sense: one of these has an absolute meaning, while the other assigns the name "greater" to that which is greater by comparison with something smaller—for example, a great horse or a great ox. For things of this sort receive such testimony not from the excessive vastness of their bodies, but from comparison with another. How, then, are we now to be led to the meaning of the appellation "great"? Surely to the former sense, as when we compare smaller things with greater—like an ant, or some other animal small by nature, set below the greatest by comparison. Or rather, is it because of their immense form that the lights are rightly called great? And I think it ought to be understood this way instead: for they are not called great because they are greater than the other stars, but because such is the amplitude of their orb that the radiance which streams out from them sufficiently illuminates the whole air, and, spread everywhere, reaches all lands and seas. And when it has stood in any part of the sky, whether rising or setting, it appears equally to the sight of all mortals. Its magnitude has a most certain proof: that not even by the comparison of these lights themselves is the breadth of the earth, how great it is, determined, so that through this the sun and the moon can be comprehended as either smaller or greater. For always those things which are placed far off seem tiny to our sight; but when we have come near, we more easily discover how great their magnitude is.

But the sun is never said to be either farther or nearer to anyone; rather, it regards all things subject to it from every side with an equal balance—the sun which Indians and Britons alike behold. For neither when it sinks toward its setting is it perceived by those dwelling in the East to lose anything of its greatness, nor does it appear smaller to those situated in the West when it rises, nor when it holds the middle axis of heaven does it change its appearance for either side. Therefore let not its brief extent, when contemplated, deceive you, so that you think it is truly to be regarded as such because its orb appears to viewers to be a cubit in size. For the length of things seen is always wont to correspond to the extent of the intervals between them; and the keenness of the eyes does not attain the length of the intervening space by looking, but is measured as if failing, and it reaches the things that are seen more by estimation than by sight. And therefore, in accordance with its own weakness, it judges small things to be those which are great, evidently ascribing its own feebleness to the things it beholds. Therefore surely the eyes are deceived, and they do not have faithful judgment. For remember your own infirmity, and from yourself you will grasp the proof of what has been said. So if ever you have looked down from the high summit of a mountain upon the plain of the fields spread below, did you not judge the yokes of oxen, so large, or their plowmen, to be like ants? Nevertheless also, while stationed on a lofty watchtower, you turned your eyes upon the sea—what did the islands seem to you to be like?

Did they not present to you a kind of image of the tiniest doves? Or were huge ships, seen from afar with white swelling sails, thought to be black? Evidently for this reason, because the sense of the eyes, as we said, thinned by the stretching of the air, is not sufficient to grasp more fully the things that are seen. For even the appearance of very great rocks hollowed out into the deep is thought to be round and full; while, occupied by the projecting edges on every side, the vision cannot reach the middle place of the hollowing on account of the failure. Thus the sight does not notice the shapes of bodies as they are, but towers that are square are thought to be round. It is certain, therefore, that at longer distances we receive not a definite but a confused vision of bodies. So also the great luminaries, according to the testimony of Scripture, are more numerous than they are perceived.

Indeed, this too may be a probable proof of their magnitude, that although the stars are infinite in number, yet the brightness that proceeds from them cannot pierce the density of the night. But the sun, with light poured through the world, not only when it has been seen, but also when it is hoped to come and before it illuminates the lands, breaks the darkness of night and surpasses the stars in whiteness, and dissolves and shakes off the air nearest the earth, congealed with cold and clouds: from which the morning wind and the dewy moisture are generated when it is clear.

But since the earth is exceedingly vast, how could it be wholly illuminated by the sun's rays in a single moment of time, unless a most abundant light were supplied to it from the greatest orb of the sun? Now observe the wisdom of the Creator here: how he applied a moderate force of heat to its immensity, so that neither could excessive burning scorch the earth, nor could the total denial of warmth make it unfruitful. Understand the same things to be consistent concerning the moon also: although its body is luminous, its magnitude is not always clearly visible, but now it appears perfect in its orb, now it is shown half-full, that is, diminished, and it marks its waning in two parts. For it is found to be dark on one side when it waxes, and on another when it wanes. The deeper reason, surely, declares the dispensation of the artisan Creator, through which the moon's variation sets before us an example of our nature, in that nothing among human affairs remains stable and lasting, but those things which are produced from nothing, when they have grown to something and been raised to the highest measure of their age, gradually wasting away, are dissolved.

From the consideration of the moon, then, we are taught to attend to mortal things, and grasping their mutability in thought, we ought to beware lest, elated by prosperity, we affect arrogance or insolence, nor trust in temporal power, nor be exalted by resources or riches, which are exceedingly uncertain; but let us chastise the desire of the body, which is held to be especially unstable, and rather bestow diligence upon the soul, whose good always remains immovable. But if perhaps the moon grieves you, waning as its light is gradually laid aside, the soul ought to affect you more, which loses the honor it received from divine power through the vice of intemperance, never preserving a firm purpose, but continually turning, as being supported by no bars of constancy. For in truth, according to the proverb: The moon is changed without a voice. But I think that even for the creation of animals and all the other things which the earth produces, no small formation is contributed by the moon's change. For otherwise when it is full, and otherwise when it wanes, are their bodies disposed. For now they seem looser and empty when it grows old, now whole and replete when it grows: since it pours into them inwardly, secretly, a certain moisture mixed with heat. That this is so, those demonstrate who, sleeping under the open sky when the moon shines, after they have risen, find their heads wet with the most abundant dew. But even fresh meats, if they have lain under the moon, are soon corrupted by flowing putrefaction.

The same is signified by the brain of cattle, and also by the entrails of sea animals, which are more moist, and by the pith of trees—all of which the moon could by no means reduce to its own quality, unless it excelled in the greatness of its power, according to the testimony of Scripture.

ii. But the motion of the air is also governed by these same changes, as the newness of the moon attests, which often, out of long serenity, suddenly stirs up gatherings of clouds and disturbances. The refluent course of the Euripi also indicates this, and likewise the reciprocation of the Syrtes, which are held to be near the Ocean, which the inhabitants of those places have reported to be stirred according to the phases of the moon. The Euripi too are accustomed to turn their own gentle currents in either direction at all other times; but when the moon is born, they can in no way be at rest, but always seethe with vehement heat until the moon again appears, about to bring calm to the stirred whirlpools. Similarly the western sea undergoes frequent advances and retreats, now washing the shores with waves, now abandoning them. Thus, as if by certain breathings of the moon, it is drawn back, and again overflows by its impulses. I have therefore discussed these things to express the greatness of the luminaries, and because not even to a single syllable can anything of the spiritual precepts be idle, since certainly the discourse has drawn nothing from the more secret matters.

For one who does not lazily investigate their affections and powers will be able to discover many things by thinking about the magnitude, or the intervals, of the sun and the moon. Therefore each person ought rather to accuse his own weakness, so that it may be believed that the majesty of the creation cannot be measured by human words. But from the few things that have been said, it is fitting to consider how great and of what kind are those things that we have passed over. Therefore do not wish to estimate the moon with the eyes, but rather with reason, which is more effective than sight at approaching the discovery of truth. Old wives' tales, then, and ridiculous ones, have spread everywhere: that the moon, summoned from its own seats by magical incantations, is led down to the earth. First of all, how can she be moved by the force of chants, whom the Most High himself established? Then, what place would receive her as she descends? Yet you may wish to receive a proof of her magnitude from small indications. The cities, then, which are situated on the circle of the earth, are separated from one another by long distances. The streets of these cities which face toward the east all receive the moon's light equally. For all these, unless the moon were seen face to face, it would visit only those narrow alleys which are positioned opposite to it, but those which exceed its breadth, as coming from the side, it would in no way visit. A lamp lit at home also makes this clear: if several people stand around it, the shadow of those who are in front is cast straight out, but the shadow of the rest is bent to either side.

Thus, unless the body of the moon excelled in immensity and amplitude, it would never reach all things at once. For when it rises from the solstitial parts, it illuminates equally the cold region of those who dwell on the northern axis, and embracing those who are turned in the lower parts of the southern region under the zone of the sun with a fiery intensity, it provides us with the most certain indication of its own magnitude. Who, then, can contradict one who asserts that its body is not immense, when it extends through so many and such great intervals of lands? And concerning the magnitude of the sun and the moon, let this suffice. But may he who has granted us understanding, so that from the least of creation's things we may know the infinite wisdom of the Artisan, grant us also to receive the greatest thoughts concerning the Creator from greater things, although in comparison with him the sun and the moon are believed to have the measure of ants. And therefore, although they are not worthy that from them contemplation of the divine magnitude be grasped, yet we seem to be instructed by certain frogs and dark parables, just as we sometimes compare smaller animals or herbs to great things. Now, however, let us be content with the sequence of what has been narrated; I, indeed, giving thanks to him who has assigned to me this small gift of a meager discourse, while you proclaim the giver of spiritual nourishment.

who fed you in the present as with barley bread, that is, with the poverty of our speech, and may he feed you in the future, granting us the revelation of the Spirit in proportion to each one's measure of faith (I Cor. 12:7); to whom be glory in Christ Jesus, now and always, for ages of ages. Amen.

BOOK SEVEN.

And God said: Let the waters bring forth the creeping creatures of living souls, and the birds flying under the firmament of heaven. After the formation of the luminaries, the water also is filled with animals, so that this element too, clearly, might be adorned. For the earth had already long since received its fitting beauty from its own plants; the heaven too had taken on the flowers of the stars, and had been made lovely as with twin eyes, that is, by the conjunction of the greatest luminaries. It remained that a decoration proper to the waters also be rendered. The command came, and at once lakes and rivers were made most abundant, each according to its own kind or nature; indeed the sea was so filled with the offspring of diverse swimming creatures that muddy marshes and shallow pools retained no idle or ineffective power of generation. Frogs too, and flies, and gnats undoubtedly sprang forth from there. For the things that are seen now furnish a record of things past. Thus all water was compelled to serve the commands of the Creator. For those whose kinds no one can even fully explain, their life—swift and mobile—the ineffable and magnificent power of God at once displayed, and together with the command that was given to the waters, the fitness for giving life followed.

Let the waters bring forth the creeping things of living souls. Now for the first time are breathing animals, capable of sensation, generated. For although shrubs and trees are said to live, inasmuch as they have obtained the power of being nourished and growing, they are not for that reason to be understood as having sensation. And for this reason he said: Let the waters bring forth creeping things. Every kind, then, of swimming creatures, whether that which is borne upon the topmost waves or that which dwells in the deep gulfs, has surely obtained a nature for creeping, since the body is drawn through the water, although some of them also use feet and steps. And although many things concerning them are held to be ambiguous, such as sea-calves, and crocodiles, and frogs, and crabs, yet swimming is their chief characteristic. Therefore, Let the waters bring forth creeping things. In these briefest words, then, all kinds are contained. For what is not comprehended in the command of the creature? Whether you name those which give birth to live young, that is, sea-calves, and torpedo fish, and dolphins, and the like, or whether you name the egg-laying kinds, such as are almost all the kinds of fish. And the word of command is indeed slight—nay, not a word, but rather only a moment and an impulse of the will—but its meaning is held to be as manifold as the very distinction among fish can be. To pursue all of these in words is no less laborious than if you were to attempt to designate the number of the waves, or to explain how many amphorae the sea contains. Let the waters bring forth creeping things.

Among these are the fishes of the sea, of the shore, of the deep, of the rocks, of the shoals, the monstrous, the huge, and the tiny; and under the same power of the command, both the largest and the smallest are contained. Therefore when He said, "Let the waters bring forth," He showed how great is the kinship of swimming creatures with water. Indeed, if they are drawn out onto land for even a little while, they fail; for they do not have the breath by which they can take in the vital airs. For just as air is given to land animals, so water is given to fishes. And the reason is manifest, since obviously a sparse and broad lung lies within us, which, drawing air through the separation of the breast, tempers the inner heat by fanning it; but in them the foldable partition of the throat, now receiving, now diffusing the water, performs the office of breathing. There is also a proper lot for fishes and a proper nature, and different food, and a fixed condition of living. For this reason none of the water-dwellers becomes tame, nor does it suffer itself to be handled by the hands of men.

Let the waters bring forth reptiles of living souls. He commanded the origin of each kind to be brought forth now as a kind of seed, for afterward He preserved the multitude in offspring, since it is necessary that they grow and multiply. And so of one kind are those that are called testaceans, such as conchs, scallops, and sea snails, and thousands of diverse oysters; and of another kind are those called mollusks, that is, lobsters, crabs, and those nearest to them. There is also another kind of those which in Greek are called malacia, that is, those whose flesh is held to be softer and looser, such as cuttlefish and polypodes and the like. In these again there is a great difference. For dracones and murænae and eels, which are born in muddy rivers and marshes, are joined by similarity of nature to venomous serpents rather than to fishes. There is also another kind, the egg-layers, and another, the live-bearers. For the mustella bears young, and the asellus, and all that are without scales, which the Greeks call salatia. But also the greatest part of sea-monsters, and the dolphin, and the seal bear young, which, when their newborn offspring have been frightened for some reason, are said to receive them back again, slipped back into the womb, and to protect and cherish them. Let the waters bring forth reptiles according to their kind. One kind is of the huge, and another of the small fishes.

Likewise within these very kinds there are many differences, divided according to the quality of their kind, to which belong their own proper names, distinct foods, unequal size of members, and they are separated from one another by differing appearance. Who, then, as an observer of the tunny-fish, will be able to explain to us so great a distinction, although they claim that, when the greatest shoals of fish have been seen, they can mark not only their cheeks but even their number? Who, moreover, will be able to lay open to us in detail the knowledge of each one of those craftsmen who dwell on the shores and grow old in the haunts of the sea? For those who fish in the Indian Sea know some fish, and others those who search the Egyptian deep. The inhabitants of the islands know yet others, and the Moorish fishermen others. But all alike, both the small and the larger, that first command and that ineffable power brought forth. Great is their diversity of living, and exceedingly great the distinction in the succession of each kind. Many fish do not brood over their eggs, as birds do, nor build nests, nor with labor feed their own young; but the water, receiving the egg, makes the animal, and in each kind it remains unchangeable toward another nature, and the offspring is unconfused, and not, like the stock of earthly mules or of manifest birds, does an adulterous mixture corrupt it. No fish is armed with teeth on one half only, as we see sheep and oxen to be, nor does any fish chew the cud except the scarus, as some have handed down.

All fish, however, are furnished with a very sharp edge of teeth, so that the food, once worked in the mouth, would not disperse too long; unless it were quickly torn apart and delivered to the belly, it would easily be altered and scattered by the waves.

But food has been appointed different for different kinds according to their genus. For certain ones are nourished on mud; some are content with the herbs that grow in the water; but very many are satisfied by devouring one another in turn, and always the smaller among them becomes food for the larger. And if it happens that the one who has caught the smaller is consumed by the bite of the stronger, both are cast into one belly of the latter. As if we humans were doing anything else when we oppress our inferiors by our power. Or in what does that man differ from that last-mentioned fish, who, inflamed with love of riches, has swallowed up the poor whom he has captured in the insatiable jaws of his own rapacity? The one was retaining by force the substance of a poor man taken away. Him, surrounded by your threats and terrors, you have stripped of a portion of your own patrimony, and so you have become more unjust than the unjust, and more rapacious than the rapacious. Beware, therefore, lest the same fate overtake you as the fish—that is, the hook, or the net, or the basket. For it is necessary that we too, stained with unspeakable crimes, not escape the final punishments. Moreover, having learned by experience that deceit and snares lie in wait even for weak animals, I prefer that you escape the frauds of the cunning.

For they say that the cercinus desires the flesh of the oyster, whose capture is difficult for it because of the coverings of shells with which nature has enclosed the softness of its flesh—whence it is also called testicoria. Therefore, because they are concave, they easily defend the inner parts of the oyster when folded together, and for this reason the attacker's assault becomes ineffective. What, then, does the adversary contrive? When it has seen the oyster willingly opening itself under the sun in sunny places, holding a tiny pebble it secretly places it against it, by whose obstruction it cannot close its coverings, and thus what it could not accomplish by strength, it was able to obtain by cunning. This, then, is the malice of those whom neither reason nor any voice supplies. But I wish you, having contemplated the gainful devices of the cercinus, to abstain from the possessions of neighbors. For such is the one who proceeds to his brother with a deceitful mind: either he lays waste the goods of relatives, or he is one who takes delight in others' calamities. Wherefore cease to emulate the condemned, for poverty with truth is preferred by the wise man to the greatest riches. Therefore I will not pass over the cunning of the fraudulent and thieving polypus, which, when it clings with its outstretched tendrils to some rock, safely assumes its color, and many fish slipping there imprudently, dragging themselves as if simply toward a rock, are deceived, immediately offering to the wicked one an easy capture of themselves.

Such are those who constantly comply with the powerful: they are changed by the fickleness of their mind, and not persevering in one purpose, they show themselves now one thing and now another—practicing chastity with the chaste, and luxury with the lustful—and in short, adapting their own habits to whatever each person's mind happens to be. These are also difficult to avoid, because of the wickedness that lies hidden in the likeness of the onychion. The Lord called men of this sort ravening wolves, feigning themselves to be simple sheep (Matthew 7:15). Flee, therefore, this kind of fickleness of character, and pursue rather truth, sincerity, and innocence, since the viper too is variegated; for which reason the Lord condemned it to crawl on its belly. The righteous man has nothing feigned, like Job; therefore the Lord will make the single-hearted to dwell in a house (Psalm 66:7). This is the great and wide sea: there are serpents without number, small animals and great (Psalm 103:25). But nevertheless there is among them a certain wise and orderly arrangement. We ought not, then, to condemn all fish wholesale, but also to praise and imitate certain ones. For see how each kind keeps to the regions assigned to it; and no one occupies another's bounds, but each is content with its own dwelling-places. And surely no land-surveyor distributed to them their habitations to be defended, nor marked them out with the enclosure of walls, nor set boundaries to be observed; but the benefit of all has been conferred in common. For this bay nourishes one kind of fish, another bay another.

And those who abound in this place are held less within shores in others: not because they are separated by some very rough mountain ridges, or kept from crossing by intervening barriers of rivers; but the law of nature, evenly for each according to the need of each one's use, by preventing what is necessary, has bound all by the observance of its sanction.

But we are not such: for we boldly cross the boundaries of our ancestors, and we transgress the pastures of neighbors, and we join houses to houses and fields to fields, and we mutilate the rights of others (Prov. 22:28). The sea monsters know the dwelling granted to them by nature, which is situated in the farthest parts of the sea, in whose sight nothing at all is shown, and which is considered wholly unnavigable. For neither what it is like has been discovered even by the report of history, since no one dares to cross from there. In this place, therefore, the aforementioned beasts, which are like mountains, dwell, harming neither any cities nor islands. Thus each kind is compelled by nature to inhabit its own home in the stations given to it, as if in regions of lands. Certain fish indeed, as if by a common decree of citizens, directed to the outer parts, undertake the labor of pilgrimage, and all at once, as if a signal had been given, depart for distant places. For when the time of breeding begins to prevail, some from one bay, others from another, stirred by the laws of nature, soon direct their journey to the parts of the northern sea.

When you see them in their return packed together in the densest throng, you will think that a most violent torrent is flowing out along the shore of the Propontis, on their way to the Euxine Sea. Who, then, drives them on? What authority of one commanding? What published edicts announce to them the appointed time? Who are their leaders? Do you not see the divine ordering fulfilling all things and, through these small creatures too, being made manifest? Fish, therefore, do not resist the laws of God, yet men scarcely receive the saving teaching. Do not despise the fish because they are mute and irrational, but rather fear lest you be judged more irrational than they, in withstanding the precepts of the Creator. Listen to the fish, which only lack the emission of voice; for they are seen to be rare by certain indications, because on account of the immortality of their kind they are compelled to undertake a migration to be desired. These do not use their own speeches, but have the law of nature clinging powerfully to them and showing them what must be done. Let us go, they say, to the Borine Sea, for its water is sweeter than the other seas, since the sun, staying there for a short time, does not entirely drain the drinkable waters with its rays. For marine animals too delight in sweeter waters; hence fish coming from far out at sea are often seen to ascend through rivers. For this reason they seek the deep sea more gladly than other bays, because it is more suitable for them for eating and for bringing forth their offspring.

When they have sufficiently accomplished what was appointed them, they all return together in throngs to their own places. But let us hear from the silent creatures what the reason is. For the northern sea is, plainly, shallow and sloping downward, and for this reason exposed to the violence and agitation of the winds; when storms arise it is shaken from its very bottom, so that sometimes the lower sand is mingled with the topmost waves. But it is also exceedingly cold in winter time, inasmuch as it is filled by many and very great rivers. When they have enjoyed the summer months there, they are again deterred by the harshness of the winter that follows, and betake themselves to the deeper parts of the sea, which are calmer.

I have watched these things and marveled at the wisdom of God, because irrational creatures are held to be provident guardians of their own safety, and they understand what is fitting for them and what is adverse. What, then, shall we say, who have been honored with reason, invited by promises, spiritually instructed, yet order our affairs more irrationally than the fishes? They have even a zeal for the knowledge of things to come. But we, corrupted by unbelief concerning the age to come, spend our life in most shameful deeds and unlawful pleasures. The fishes, then, traverse so many stretches of the sea so that they may be able to find what is useful. What at last will you say, you who have sloth clinging to you, which is the chief of wickedness?

Let no one, then, find fault on the ground of ignorance; for the principle of nature has been implanted in us, both for seeking the fellowship of good things and for avoiding the harm of injurious ones. Therefore I shall not depart from the examples of sea creatures, since we have set these examples before us to examine. I myself heard a certain man among the coastal dwellers report that the sea urchin, though it is the most worthless and contemptible of things, often becomes an indicator to sailors of coming calm or storm. For when it has sensed that the blasts of the winds are imminent, it places itself under a stone, where, supported as if by the tooth of an anchor, it may avoid the buffeting of the tempest. And it allows itself to be pressed down for a time by the weight placed over it, provided only that it is not tossed about by the waves. When the sailors have seen this sign, they know that the roaring of the winds will soon be stirred up. And certainly no astrologer, nor any Chaldean who gathers the quality of the air from the rising of the stars, taught the sea urchin; but the Lord of the winds and the tempests has marked even in this tiny animal clear traces of his magnificent wisdom. Thus nothing is unforeseen, nothing overlooked by God; for that unsleeping eye surveys all things and is present to all, bearing the remedies of salvation. If he has not left the sea urchin without a share in his visitation, will he not look upon you also, O man, and upon your own? Men, love your wives (Eph. 5:25). And even if the wide expanse of lands laid between may perhaps seem for a time to separate you, yet let the covenant of nature and the yoke of blessing be for you an undivided union.

Although the viper is the fiercest of serpents, it goes to mate with the moray eel, and by hissing, signaling that it has come, it summons her from the deep to come forth to the nuptial union, and she, promptly obedient, is joined to him. What, then, does this account intend? That even if a man is harsh and is considered savage in his ways, his wife must nonetheless bear with him, never on any pretext breaking the affection once contracted. But you say that he is irascible or cruel—yet he is your husband; that he is given to wine—yet he is joined to you by nature; that he is hard and implacable—yet he is reckoned the more precious part of your body.

Let the husband also hear the admonition that suits him. The viper vomits forth its deadly poison out of reverence for marriage; will you not lay aside the savagery and bitterness of your mind, compelled by the shame of wedlock? Perhaps we shall find that the example of the viper is fitting for us in other respects as well, because the mating of the viper with the moray eel makes adultery, so to speak, a matter of nature. Let those, therefore, who lay snares for others' marriages recognize what beast they are compared to. And so there is always some purpose by which the Church can be built up; and for this reason I urge that the lusts of the shameful cease, to be chastened by examples from the sea and from the land. Here I am compelled to set a limit to my discourse, both by the evening hour and by the weakness of my body.

For there would be many things that we ought to add to the treatise, especially since the hearers are eager, both concerning those things that are born in the sea, most worthy of admiration, and concerning the sea itself—how its water is frozen into salt, or how that precious stone which is called coral is a plant while it is held in the deep, but after it has been brought out from there into the air, it is presently changed into stone. Or whence nature subjects to the vilest of living things, the oyster, a pearl heavy with price, so that the poor fisherman may find the one that kings greatly desire, enclosed by the shell along the shore and rough crags. Whence the sea-pens nourish golden fleece; or whence the shellfish supply purple to emperors, which surpasses the beauty of all flowers by the loveliness of its own color. Let the waters bring forth. What has not been made necessary? Or what has not been conferred as best for our life? Of these things, a part profits the ministries of men, others the creature claims for itself as a marvelous contemplation. Some things are terrible, which would restrain our sloth. God made great sea-monsters, not indeed because it is greater than other small fish, and for that reason is called great, but because in the vastness of its limbs it is equaled to lofty mountains, which is even often thought to be an island, when it has raised itself to the top of the waves with gentle swimming. Yet this does not dwell on familiar shores, or in habitable places, but is said to inhabit the deep sea.

Such, then, are the beasts formed by him to inspire us with fear and terror. But when you have heard that a tiny fish so slows and holds back huge ships, swelling with the curve of their sails and flying over the deep with a favorable wind, that they are made motionless for a long time, as if founded on certain roots in the deep, will you not accept even this smallest animal as a proof of divine power? For not only the dog-fish, or the swordfish, or the whale is treacherous in form; but also the sting of the stingray, and that even when dead, and the sea-hare are guarded against with equal fear, since they carry a swift and unavoidable destruction. Since these things are so, the providence of the Creator preferred that you be always watchful, so that, trusting in him, you may thereafter escape all noxious pests. But now, returning from the whirlpool of the sea, let us return to the land. For other miracles of creation, meeting us one after another, have submerged our discourse like a kind of wave with their frequent and alternating tossings. And indeed I shall wonder if our mind, occupied with greater matters, does not flee again to the land, as Jonah fled to the sea. Wherefore the sequence of our argument seems to me, entangled in many thousands of miracles and forgetful of its own mediocrity, to be like those sailing on the deep, who, directing their course to no certain place, do not know how much space they have covered by sailing.

We have certainly shown that this has happened to our discourse, which, while it wanders more widely through the paths of the meadows, does not grasp in understanding the multitude of the things reported. But although the assembly of those standing by may be eager to hear, and the narration of the Lord's wonders may seem most pleasant to their hearts, nevertheless we here make an end of speaking, intending to pay the remainder of the debt on the following day. But now let us all together give thanks for what has been said, and let us ask for a supplement to those things which we have explained too little; and may he cause us, even amid the feast itself, to remember what our address brought forth either in the morning or toward evening, and to hold their memory fast in you even when you rest in sleep, and to ruminate in the time of night as well the sweetness that you perceived during the day; so that you may thus be able to say, I sleep and my heart keeps watch, meditating on the law of the Lord day and night, to whom be glory and honor, now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.

BOOK EIGHT.

I. And God said: Let the earth bring forth a living soul according to its kind: four-footed beasts, and serpents, and wild beasts according to their kind. And it was done so. The command came forth, advancing everywhere, and the earth received its proper course. There He ordered the waters to bring forth creeping things of living souls; here, Let the earth bring forth a living soul. Do you suppose, then, that the earth is animate, and that a place will be given to the vain-talking Manichaeans for assigning a soul to the earth? By no means, because He said, Let it bring forth, it brought out what was in itself; but God, who gave the command, also granted to the earth the power of bringing forth. For neither when it had heard that it should germinate the herb of hay and the fruitful tree—namely, what was hidden within itself—did it produce only the herb of hay, nor did it bring forth to the upper world palms, or esculi, or cypresses, hidden in its own bosoms; but the divine word is assuredly the creator of things that come to be. Let the earth germinate—not so that it might bring out what it had, but so that it might take up what it did not have, God, that is, supplying the power of working. So also now: Let it bring forth a soul—not the one that was concealed in the earth, but the one that was conferred on it by God through the command. Then the discourse must be turned against the Manichaeans. For if the earth brought out the soul that it had, it itself was made soulless. But their detestableness is noted again and again. Let us indeed see this: why the waters were ordered to produce creeping things of living souls, but the earth a living soul.

We consider, therefore, that the nature of swimming creatures is thought to have a life in some way imperfect, for the reason that the waters are denser. For in fact hearing is slower in animals living in water, and sight is duller, inasmuch as they see through water, nor is there in them any memory, or opinion, or recognition of those close to them. The divine word therefore declares that the carnal life of water-dwellers is governed by the motions of the soul. For in the beasts born of earth, which have obtained a more perfect life, the soul holds the principate over the body. For their senses are more vigorous, and these manifest animals, since they take the greatest care of things present, then diligently keep the memory of things past. Whence it is to be considered that the water produced the bodies of fish as living things—for it produced reptiles of living souls, as the Scripture indicates—but in earthly creatures the soul governs the body. The command was given that they be generated, as those which have assumed more of the life-giving power; although these earthly creatures themselves are also irrational, yet each one of them signifies much by its natural voice concerning the passion of the soul. For they declare both joy and sorrow, and hunger, and the separation of their own, and various troubles by voice, whereas water-dwellers are not only mute but also savage and untrained, and altogether intractable to men for every fellowship of life. The ox recognized its possessor, and the ass the manger of its lord (Isai. I, 3), but a fish could never recognize the one providing its nourishment.

The donkey understands even the familiar voice of a human, it knows the path it has walked more often, and sometimes it becomes a guide to its driver when he has gone astray, being so keen of hearing that none of the land animals can be compared to it. The camel always has a tenacious memory of wrongs; it is also prone to anger and persistent. Indeed, if it has been struck, it hides its pain for a long time, and when it finds a suitable opportunity, it immediately repays the injury inflicted on it. But no sea monster imitates this one. Hear, therefore, you angry men, who claim the remembrance of an injury received long ago as the greatest virtue—to which beast are we similar, when you keep your own bile, like some spark smothered in ashes, in your hearts all the way until, having seized an opportunity, you stir up the goads of pain, like a little fire nourished by kindling, into a flame.

i. Let the earth bring forth a living soul. Why does the earth produce a living soul? So that you may learn the difference between the soul of a beast and of a man. And a little further down, indeed, you will learn how the soul of man is constituted; but now hear about the soul of brute animals, because according to Scripture, the soul of all animals is their own blood. Blood, however, when congealed, is accustomed to be turned into flesh, and flesh, when corrupted, returns to earth. Deservedly, therefore, the soul of beasts is subject to decay. Let the earth bring forth a living soul. See the sequence of soul to blood, of blood to flesh, of flesh to earth.

Resolving these things again, go back retracing through the same steps, that is, from earth to flesh, from flesh to blood, from blood to soul, and you will find that the soul of cattle is earth. Nor should you think it is older than their bodily substance, nor that it awaits dissolution together with the body. Flee the anxious chatter of the philosophers, who are not ashamed to assert that their souls and those of dogs hold a similar form. Indeed they profess that even women were once fish and shrubs. But if they ever were fish—which I do not believe—yet while they were writing these things they were reckoned more irrational than fish. Let the earth bring forth a living soul. Why then, when my discourse was running along in its course, did I suddenly fall silent for no short time? I believe some of those standing by wonder, though I do not think the most attentive hearers are ignorant of the causes of my silence; for by a look and a nod exchanged among themselves they have brought back to my memory those things which we passed over. For we have almost passed over undiscussed a certain not ignoble part of creation. Let the mares bring forth reptiles of living souls, according to their kind, and flying birds under the firmament of heaven. We had spoken above concerning swimming creatures, as far as the evening time permitted; today we pass to the examination of earthly creatures. But meanwhile, in the middle of my account, the birds have escaped me.

Therefore we must imitate forgetful travelers, who, when they have left something precious at their lodging, even though they have completed the greatest part of their journey by advancing, turn back, enduring a labor worthy of their negligence; so too must we return by the same path by which we came. For what we have omitted is not to be despised, since it is the third portion of the creation of living things. For there are three kinds of living things: terrestrial, flying, and marine. Let the waters, he says, bring forth reptiles of living souls according to their kind, and let flying things fly under the firmament of heaven according to their kind. Why, then, does he assign birth to birds also from the element of the sea? Because there is, as it were, a certain affinity between birds and fish. For just as fish cut through the water by the motions of their fins, pressing forward, and direct their own turnings by the rudder of their tail, so too birds are believed to break through the air by swimming with their wings. Therefore, since there is one property of swimming in both kinds, the same kinship from the water is also available to them. Their difference is this: that no bird can be without feet, since it obtains its food from the earth, and for this reason necessarily enjoys the service of feet. But for birds of prey the sharpness of talons also is suited to carrying off their prey. For to the rest, both for the acquisition of nourishment and for the other ordering of life, the ministries of feet have been granted.

Few birds, however, have useless feet, suited neither for walking nor for hunting, such as swallows and bee-eaters, to which food is supplied from the air alone. But the swallow is accustomed to fly lower and almost touch the ground, so that by this it seems to fulfill the use of its feet.

There are, indeed, many kinds which, if anyone wished to explain in the manner in which we have partly described the multitude of fish, he will find that there is indeed one common name for all birds, but very many differences among them, whether of habit, or of size, or of color. For they are distinguished by an excessive diversity of manners, actions, and ways of living. Some, moreover, have affected to use various names for them, so that, as it were through unfamiliar seals, the peculiarity of a new and unheard-of designation might be recognized in each kind of bird. But for us the meaning is sufficient for contemplating the quality of each kind, and the common usage of Scripture, which distinguishes the clean from the unclean. For one kind is that of those which feed on flesh, and another form, corresponding to their manners: for they have curved talons, a hooked beak, swift flight, so that prey may be caught more quickly, and, once torn apart by their feet, food may be easily brought to the captured prey. Another species is that of those which are nourished by seeds, and another of those which receive for nourishment whatever chance brings. And in these again there is the greatest difference. For some are gregarious, except the predatory ones, none of which associates with others except for mating.

Others live in common, such as doves, starlings, cranes, and jackdaws; of these some are held to be without leaders, governing themselves, while others are kept under direction, like cranes. There is also another distinction among them, according to which certain ones are seen to be strangers and newcomers, others native. Some, when winter compels them, depart to foreign lands for the sake of food. Very many become tame and patient, except the weaker ones, which because of excessive timidity cannot endure the touch of a hand. Some dwell among men, residing in the same dwellings as they do, while others delight in deserted places such as mountains. There is also a great difference of voices among birds, and each has its own peculiarity. For some are talkative and garrulous, others silent; some are tuneful and clamorous, certain ones hissing, and having no song at all. Some are naturally emulous, or trained by human instruction. Others have a single, never-changing sound of voice. The rooster is lustful, the peacock fond of display, the dove libidinous, and so is the domestic hen. The partridge is crafty and jealous; and sometimes, to hunters, it maliciously consents to the capture of others; and altogether there is a manifold distinction of actions and manners in them.

There are also certain gregarious animals—if indeed it belongs to gregariousness to lead the individuals to one common end—as may be seen in bees, which have a common dwelling, common flight, and one labor for all, and, what is greatest, under kings and leaders each performs its own proper task. Nor do they dare to seek the open fields before they have seen their prince fly. But a king is not appointed among them by the people, for often the ignorant suffrages of the multitude are wont to raise the unworthy to the imperial summit, nor is kingship bestowed by lot. For the outcomes of the urn are irrational, since it more often assigns the insignia of power to the lowest. Nor are imperial scepters handed down by inheritance from parents, since the children of princes are easily corrupted through pleasures and delights and are made foolish and stupid. But by the judgment of nature, he who is worthy receives the fillets of principality, surpassing the rest no less in the stature of his limbs than in the gentleness of his manners, and he has certain stings, but he does not use them for the injury of others. Thus nature has silently prescribed certain laws for them, by which they are restrained from inflicting torments on their subjects. But the bees themselves, if they have not followed the ordinances of their rulers, are punished by their own repentance. For if they have stung anyone, they send forth their soul together with the sting in the wound. Let Christians hear these things, to whom it is commanded to repay no one evil for evil, but to overcome malice in goodness.

For this reason, imitate the ways of the bees: they harm no one and seize no one else's inheritance; they fashion their combs built from flowers, and the honey they gather with their mouths from the dewy moisture that clings to the leaves of trees, they store away in waxen cells. For indeed, the honey that is taken first is held to be more liquid; then, gradually digested as time goes on, it returns to its own thickness and sweetness. Not without reason, therefore, do the bees obtain the glory of such great praises, inasmuch as antiquity has called them industrious and wise. Thus they diligently store up their own sustenance, and the use of them imparts remedies of health to kings as well as to private persons. And so, because they wisely build storehouses of honey. For they construct numerous cells in a delicate membrane, adjoining one another, so that their compression, compacted by the weaving of the most slender joining and supported as if by certain props, may hold the whole work together. Moreover, each breathing-hole, bound by mutual connection, is sustained by another and separated by the most subtle interweaving of the little cells; these are arranged with two or three coverings above them. For they preferred not to make the depths of the chambers straight or simple, lest the liquid, crowded together by its own weight, should flow out from within. Learn how the pursuit of geometry, compared with the most wise bees, is set behind them.

For the combs of wax are contained by six angles and as many sides, and yet they are not set upright, lest the base, being without the support of joints, should bear the labor. But those six lower angles serve as a seat and a kind of foundation for what is placed upon them, so that they might tolerably carry the weight placed on top and preserve the stored moisture in their individual hollows.

Who, then, could worthily set forth all the properties of winged creatures? Or how the cranes take turns keeping watch by night, of which while some tend their bodies with sleep, certain others provide protection for them by keeping vigil. And when they have completed the appointed time of their watch, they themselves, having given a cry, begin to rest, and others succeed them by lot. This order they also keep in flight, when in turn they are compelled to fulfill the duty of leading. The storks are certainly not far removed from these, to whom a rational prudence has been granted. For at one time they all arrive together, and likewise under one sign they all depart together to distant places. The crows assist them, which they honorably escort as they set out, and, as it seems to me, they provide help to them against certain birds with which they are about to fight. Of this matter there is a certain proof: first indeed, because the crow is not seen at all at that time; then, because returning wounded, they show the most manifest signs of battles. Who, I ask, gave them the laws of hospitality?

Or who gave a command under threat that the storks, set in readiness, should not abandon their own company? Let greedy men hear this, who, having denied humanity to strangers arriving, close their doors and do not allow them to come under their roofs in the time of night or winter. But the generosity that is shown by the younger storks to the old would be enough for the sons of men, if they preferred to attend to it, to make them lovers of their own parents. For who is so foolish as not to consider himself marked by disgrace, when he is ranked after irrational birds in the cultivation of piety? Those birds, surrounding their parents worn out by age and with their feathers cast down by their old age, warm them with their own plumage, carry food to them, and in flight, placing themselves underneath here and there as much as they can, console the weariness of old age, supporting them with the aid of their wings. This matter has spread so widely through all peoples everywhere that today the repayment of a conferred benefit is named among the Greeks. Therefore let no one, excusing himself entirely under the pretext of poverty, despair of his own life, although no resources supply him at home, while he contemplates the ingenious swallow. For she, in building her nest, gathers straws with her mouth, but, unable to carry mud with her feet, she moistens the tips of her wings in the river, then, rolled about in ashes, she seems to fulfill the use of cement. And gradually joining twigs to one another with mud applied, as if with a kind of glue, she rears her chicks.

If anyone has gouged out their eyes, their mother has a remedy handed down to her by nature, by which she may soon restore her offspring's sight to health. These examples will surely exhort you not to wish to turn to wickedness on the occasion of poverty, nor, placing the hope of living in the worst arts, to be made devoid and deprived of goodness, but to flee to God: who, when he has given such great things to the swallow, how much greater will he bestow on those who implore him with the whole intention of their mind? The halcyon is a certain little bird accustomed to breed on the sea shores, which lays its eggs upon the very sand, at the time when the sea is stirred by many heavy blasts of winds: but nevertheless all storms and gales are then calmed for seven whole days, during which the aforementioned bird is said to brood: and for the sake of nourishing its chicks, after they have been brought out from the eggs, God, the bestower of great things, added to it another seven days, which days sailors, observing them more diligently, call halcyon days. These things have been set before you concerning imploring from God remedies that are undoubtedly salutary. For what would not be done wondrously for your sake, who were made in the image of God, when on account of a tiny bird you see the greatest and most fearsome sea made calm in a stormy time, calmed by divine command?

They say that a turtle-dove, if by some chance it is separated from its mate, in no way consorts with another, but with the memory of its former union enduring, it refuses the bond of a second coupling. Let women hear how among irrational birds the continence of widowhood is preferred to subsequent marriages. The eagle is said to be unjust in rearing its own young. For when two have been produced, it strikes one with blows of its wings and casts it to the ground, while it cherishes the other, which is kept. Thus on account of scarcity of food it is compelled to deny the one it begot, yet the ossifrage does not allow it to perish, but taking it up it joins it to its own young and diligently nourishes it. Such are certain parents among men, who, making poverty their excuse, expose their children, or who do not establish an equal share of inheritance among them. For since equal causes of being born were furnished to them, it would be just that they also grant them an equal portion of living. Do not wish, then, to emulate the ways of the plundering birds, which, when they see their young already trusting in flight, drive them headlong from the nest and cast them out, bestowing no care at all upon them thereafter. On the other hand, the affection of the crow toward its offspring is praised, which it both follows when they fly and generously supplies with food. But certain birds do not use the help of males for nourishing and cherishing their young. Some indeed of those that fly higher are altogether sterile, like vultures, which they assert generate without copulation, especially since they are long-lived.

For they affirm that their life lasts a hundred years. Let this part of the history concerning birds be noted by you, so that when you see some people mocking because of the ineffable mystery of the catholic faith—that a virgin has given birth, which is, as it were, impossible and alien to nature, with the state of virginity kept intact—you may reflect that he who deigned to save believers through the foolishness of preaching has also furnished us with countless arguments drawn from nature for belief in his marvelous works.

Let the waters bring forth the creeping things of living souls, and let flying creatures fly above the earth beneath the firmament of heaven. They were ordered to fly above the earth because sustenance for all is supplied from the earth. But he said beneath the firmament of heaven for the reasons we discussed above. But here we must understand heaven as so called from seeing; for in Greek it is called [ouranos]. For in comparison with the ethereal body, the air also, which is above us, is made thick and dense from the vapors of the earth. You have, therefore, the pole adorned, the earth most fertile, the sea most abundant, the air filled with birds: all these things were brought forth from nothing into this life by God's command. And many other things which the discourse has now deliberately passed over, lest, lingering too long on these same matters, it should seem to exceed the measure of discussion. But do you yourself, reckoning all these things within yourself and intently seeking the wisdom of God which is held in all things, never cease from marveling and glorifying the Creator. You have also birds of night and of day.

For bats and owls are light-shunning. Therefore, if ever sleep has not oppressed you, the examination of their manner of life will suffice to impel you to proclaim the wisdom of the Creator, and the peculiarity of their life: how the nightingale keeps watch, incubating her eggs, drawing out her song through every time of night; how also bats are no less four-footed than winged, which alone of all birds are known to have teeth; and they are said to produce young; or to fly in the air not with feathers but with a certain leathery membrane. There is also a mutual and great affection among them by nature. For like certain fishing nets they cling together in alternating knots; which we certainly see not easily to come about among men, some of whom, separated from the company of others, delight in singularity and solitude. How also the professors of worldly wisdom are held to be like the eyes of owls. For their sight is sharper in the nights, but at sunrise it is blinded, just as the sense of those men, though it is very sharp for contemplating vanity, grows dull toward the investigation of the true light. In the daytime, however, it is easy for you to draw admiration of the Creator from every side: how the domestic cock compels men to labors and works, and proclaiming with a clear voice signifies that the sun is approaching from afar. Also the race of geese, how watchful and provident it is held to be, and how quickly it perceives what is attempted in secret!

Those geese once are said to have freed the city of Rome from the nocturnal ambushes of the enemy: as the enemy were striving to enter secretly through hidden approaches and to overrun the citadel, the geese betrayed them by their clamor and hastened [to reveal them]. But in what kind of creature does nature not everywhere display its own wonders? Who announces to the vultures the future death of men, so that the flocks of vultures follow after those who will soon act against them, and from the array or equipment of arms they understand what outcome is to be expected? This indeed is not far from human reason. How also shall I reveal to you the expeditions of the locusts? They, having gone forth from their own dwellings under one sign, pitch camp in a spacious field, and they do not touch the things set before them until the divine command is given to them. How also does the diver endure an insatiable craving for feeding, through which it obtains remedies of health for the wounds of its own belly? O admiration of heavenly power! which reformed the fury of hunger into the use of medicine. How great also is the reason in the songs of the cicadas, which under the burning sun resound the more when struck by the touch of air, which flows through their breast while they breathe? But now I feel that our discourse is no less surpassed by the wonders of flying creatures than if I myself were to try to outrun their swiftness with my own feet. Indeed, when you have seen bees and wasps, consider that no breath or lung lies beneath them, but they are always nourished from the air.

Furthermore, if they are touched with oil, they are immediately killed, since their breathing passages are closed off; and if you sprinkle them again with vinegar, they revive, evidently because the channels of their veins are opened. Thus God has made nothing that is either superfluous or lacking for our uses. Again, if you wish to examine the family of waterfowl, you will find in them another arrangement. For they do not have cloven feet like the crow, nor hooked ones like the eagle, but broad and membranous, so that as they swim they may easily ride over the waves, pushing back the water with the thrusts of their feet as with certain oars. Likewise, if you consider how the swan, stretching its neck on high, draws its food from the very bottom, then you will be able to notice the wisdom of the Creator, who for this reason gave it a neck longer than its feet, so that, extending itself into the deep like a kind of bristle, it might be able to find the hidden nourishment.

Therefore, when the words of Scripture are inspected superficially, they seem to be a kind of syllables: Let the waters bring forth flying creatures that fly over the earth beneath the firmament of heaven. If the force of the words is considered, then the wonder of the Creator is declared, who foresaw long beforehand the future differences among birds, and distinguished them from one another according to kind. The day would truly fail me if I wished to recount to you all the wonders of the air. However, the earth calls us to inspect the beasts, and the cattle and the serpents. For it is ready to show forth kinds of four-footed creatures and of plants similar to the fishes and birds: Let the earth bring forth a living soul.

What do you say, you who do not believe the apostle Paul concerning the resurrection, when you see that certain winged creatures change their own proper form, like the Indian worm, which is horned, first transforming itself into the appearance of a grub, then becoming a cocoon, and yet not persisting in that shape, but growing feathery with softer and broader membranes, being made into a winged creature? Therefore you, matrons, when you sit turning over their works, that is, the threads which the Seres direct hither for the making of delicate garments, remember the reshaping of this animal, so that from it you may take an example of the resurrection, and not doubt concerning the reformation of the body, which Paul sets forth. But now I perceive that I am exceeding the measure of my argument. For if I look to the multitude of things related, I seem to have slipped into an endless discourse. But if I turn my eyes to the diversity of creation, I do not think I have even begun the narration. Nevertheless it is not useful to pass over you in a cursory manner. For what will you do until evening? Certainly you are not pressed by those who have already dined, nor does the preparation of banquets remind us that it is time to depart, since it is the time of fasting. Wherefore, if it pleases you, let us convert bodily abstinence into pleasures of the mind. For we have often been too indulgent to our bodies; let us devote at least these days to the uses of the mind alone, as it is written: Delight in the Lord, and he will give you the petitions of your heart (Ps. XXXVI, 4).

If you love riches, spiritual wealth is at hand for you, that is, the true judgments of God, justified in themselves, to be desired above gold and precious stone. If you are luxurious and a glutton, you have the words of the Lord sweeter than honey and the honeycomb. Now if I dismiss you and dissolve the gathering, presently some of you run swiftly to the dice, in which there is swearing and violent contention and the desire for gain, and an obscene demon stands by, now raising this one up in exultation of victory and making that one sad as his opponent, now showing another eager and proud. What does it profit to fast in the body if the mind is burdened with many thousands of wickednesses? Moreover, he who does not play at dice but is at leisure—what vanities does he not bring forth from his mouth, or what execrable thing does he not take in with his ears? Thus idleness without the fear of God is the teacher of wickedness. And indeed I presume that some benefit is acquired for you from what we have said. But if it should be otherwise, nevertheless this manner of dwelling in this place will make you free from sin. And the more we retain you in the Lord's Church, the more we separate you from evil thoughts. What we have discussed is sufficient before the most just knower, if only he looks not to the abundant riches of creation but to the smallness of our ability, or to the measure for receiving the joy of present things. So let this be the limit of the morning banquet, lest satiety taken in beyond measure inject disgust for the evening feasting into you.

The Lord indeed, who has filled all things with the riches of his creation, and who in all things has provided for us eternal memorials of his wonders, fill our minds with spiritual joy in Christ Jesus, to whom be glory and honor now and always, and forever and ever. Amen.

BOOK NINE.

i. Tell me, I ask, how did the morning table of our discourse seem to you? For I should like to compare our poor fare to someone who sets a banquet before a needy man: desiring abundantly to display the generosity of his heart, he is held back by lack of means and hindered by poverty, and for this reason he strives to serve a poor provision, such as it is, all the more lavishly, making himself a laughingstock to his guests. Thus it happens that ostentatious liberality does not lack the disgrace of reproach. Something of this sort is also in us, if only you will not think otherwise; yet however our offerings stand, they will not be disparaged by you. For the guests of that time did not reject Elisha as a wicked shepherd (IV Kings 4:39); certainly he refreshed them with wild herbs.

I have therefore ascertained certain laws concerning allegory—not ones I devised from myself, but ones I learned by reviewing the volumes of others—by which those who acquiesce claim that water is not water, but some other nature, and likewise fish or serpents or beasts they invent according to their own whim, not according to the reckoning of truth—just like interpreters of dreams, who declare what is to come according to their own will from the various images seen in sleep. But when I hear "hay," I understand what was said. Likewise fish or quadrupeds or shrubs, I perceive just as they were related; for I am not ashamed of the Gospel (Rom 1:16). For although those who have written much about the world have disputed certain things about the shapes of the earth, designating it now like a sphere, now like a cylinder, now like a circle, and gathered together from equal parts on every side, and hollow in the middle—all the writers of cosmography have slipped into opinions of this kind, each tearing down the doctrines of the other. Yet I am not led to say that our account of the world is therefore worse because the servant of God discoursed nothing about its shapes, and because he did not say that the circuit of the earth holds so many thousands of stadia, or that it is not measured by how great the spaces of its shadow are spread in the air, when the sun drives its own courses under the earth, which, when it has drawn near to the moon, causes a failure of its light.

Concerning all these things he wisely kept silent, knowing that those things which in no way pertained to us are held by us to be useless. Are we therefore to judge that spiritual words are more worthless than the most empty assertions of the philosophers, and not rather to glorify God, who has freed our mind from superfluous questions, but has arranged to set before us things suited to stirring up and building up our souls? Hence certain men, ignorant of things, seem to me to strive by depraved seductions and false persuasions to overlay the divine Scriptures, by means of their own arguments, with a certain color of respectability. What else is this to be understood as, than that such men profess themselves wiser than the spiritual words, and establish their own sayings under the pretext of interpretation? Wherefore, as it is written, let it be understood: Let the earth bring forth the living soul of cattle and beasts and serpents.

i. Observe therefore the word of God running through every creature. It indeed began long ago, but even now it works and hastens toward the end, until the world receives its consummation. For just as a ball, when it has been struck by someone, when it finds sloping spaces, is carried along more swiftly, urged on by its own rolling and by the downward slope of the place, and cannot stand still before it descends to level ground, so the nature of things, set in motion by God's command, passing everywhere through the making of things that are born and die, preserves the offspring of each kind equally through likeness to itself, until it is able to arrive at the appointed limit.

For he makes horse succeed horse, lion succeed lion, eagle succeed eagle, and each living creature, preserving the succession of those that follow, he leads on to the end and final issue of all things. For no span of time will be able to change the properties of living creatures, but as though nature had been established but recently, so it is borne along fresh with time. Let the earth bring forth the living soul. This command has remained in the earth, and in no way does it cease to serve the Creator. For it is beyond doubt that from the offspring of those things which were first made, certain things are born, while we see others even now being formed from the earth and given life. For it produces not only cicadas when the earth is soaked by rains, or many other thousands of flying creatures, the greatest part of which, on account of their smallness, lack names; but we also see mice and frogs generated from the earth. Indeed, in Egyptian Thebes, if rather abundant rains have poured down in summer time, the whole region is soon filled with countless mice. It is also most certain that eels are born in no other way than from mud, whose kind neither an egg nor any other birth renews, but, as we have said, they obtain their origin from the slime by lot. Let the earth bring forth the living soul. All cattle are earthly; for this reason they are inclined toward the earth. But man is a heavenly plant: who, as much as he differs in the form of his appearance, so much does he stand apart from the cattle in dignity.

Their flesh is bent downward and looks toward the belly, and whatever is pleasant to their desire, that they pursue; but your head is always raised toward heaven, your eyes look upon things above. But if you too defile yourself with bodily pleasures, obeying the luxury of the belly and its lower parts, you are compared to senseless beasts and have become like them (Ps. XLVIII, 15). But you have another concern, and one most fitting: to seek things on high, where Christ is (Col. III, 1). For it is fitting that you be carried higher than earthly things, so that, just as you were born, so you may order your own life. Let your conversation be in heaven (Phil. III, 20); your true homeland is the Jerusalem above; you have as citizens and companions the firstborn enrolled in heaven (Hebr. XII, 2).

Let the earth bring forth the living soul. Therefore the soul of the quadrupeds was not stored away long ago beneath the earth and then suddenly cast forth and leaped out, but it was created together with the command. They have one soul, and all their beauty is placed in their form; each is distinguished by various properties. Oxen are grave and steady, asses dull, horses hot with desire for females. The wolf is untamed, the fox deceitful, the deer timid, the ant laborious, the dog pleasing and mindful of friendship, and to the nativities of each, the qualities of their manners have also been fitted, just as irascibility is inborn in the lion, and a solitary way of life and the avoidance of their own kind.

For like some tyrant among beasts, elated by the vice of natural pride, it shuns the company of others, nor is it fed by daily food, though it has approached the remnants of its own hunting. Nature has granted it an exceedingly great ministry of voice, so that certain quadrupeds, though swifter in running, are terrified by its roar and fail. Its appearance is grim and sharp in attack, and it has a body suited to the motions of its mind. The nature of bears is slower, their mind harsh, crafty, and concealed no less by deceit than by savagery. But if, extending our discourse more widely, we wished to assert with how great diligence many animals provide for the preservation of their own safety without anyone's instruction, perhaps indeed we would be stirred toward the zeal of our own defense; but I fear lest we be thought lesser even in emulating beasts. The bear, often pierced by a lethal wound, uses every device so that it may prevail to cure itself, especially by blocking its own wounds with a certain herb of drier nature. The fox, too, has more frequently been caught having brought remedy to itself with pine juice. But the tortoise, when it has filled the gullet of its belly with viper's flesh, is said to escape the pestilence of the poisonous food by the medicine of an organ that is contrary to serpents. But the snake, having grazed on fennel, extinguishes the most grievous pains of the eyes. For what rational prudence is believed to surpass the foreknowledge of cattle concerning future changes of the sky?

And so the sheep, when winter presses near, crops the grass more eagerly, as if indicating that it is restoring itself more abundantly to endure the scarcity to come from the approaching storm. But oxen, when they have been shut in for a longer time in the winter season, perceiving the disturbance of the air by their natural understanding, all at once look out from the stall, changing their expression. Indeed, many men have observed that the land hedgehog has made double chambers in its dens, so that when it is pressed by the blasts of the north wind, it betakes itself to the southern part; and again, when the south wind has blown, it opens the northern opening. What, then, does Scripture signify to us men through these signs? Not only that through all things we should contemplate how great is our Creator's kindness toward us, but also that we should consider that, since the greatest forethought for the future is found in mute beasts, we certainly ought not to defile ourselves with the pleasures of the present life, but should direct our intention to the age to come. Will you not, then, O man, labor in this world, so that you may be able to lay up for yourself the supports of future rest, when you see the ant mindful of winter, diligently drawing provisions to itself in the time of its life? It is not less diligent because it does not yet experience the dangers of winter; rather, with all effort and watchful care it labors and works, and by running about tries all things, so that it may store up sufficient food for itself; and by wondrous prudence it provides that the kinds of things collected are not corrupted.

For it cuts the grain with its teeth, lest, beginning to sprout, it offer itself as useless food; and the seed itself, if it has been moistened by the vapor of the earth, it dries in the sun; yet it does not always do this, but when it has forefelt that the clear weather will be stable. Finally, you will not see rains sent forth from the clouds until the ant exposes the seed to be parched in the sun. What speech, then, could comprehend, what hearing grasp, or how much time could suffice to explain all these wonders? Wherefore let us also say together with the prophet: How magnificent are your works, O Lord! You have made all things in wisdom. Therefore that excuse will not profit us by which we think we can defend ourselves, saying that we have learned scarcely anything in letters of what is expedient, since we are believed to have received the choice of useful things rather through the teaching of nature's law. For you know the good that you ought to do to your neighbor, and the evil that you would not wish to suffer from another. Surely no art of healing, nor any use of herbs, has shown remedies to be sought for flocks, but by nature each animal knows how to consult its own safety and to grasp the ineffable diligence by an innate prudence.

There are, however, also among us certain kinds of virtues, which we obtain not from the teaching of men but from the tradition of nature. For just as no instruction persuades us to hate sickness, but we have a spontaneous horror of all things that are believed to grieve us, so also there lies naturally within the mind the duty of avoiding harmful things. Now every evil is a disease of the mind, but virtue brings the principle of health. Whence certain good men established and asserted that health is the constancy of natural motions. And in professing this vigor of the mind, who would be judged to err? For the mind is always naturally desirous of its own good; and therefore chastity is to be praised by the prudent, justice to be pursued, wisdom to be followed, fortitude to be admired. These things are more intimately familiar to minds than health is to bodies. Parents, love your children; children, do not provoke your parents (Eph. 6:4). Did nature not command this very thing? Paul therefore urges nothing new, but binds more tightly the bonds of nature. Of which nature such is the power in affection that even a wolf fights for its cubs. What will man say, who both spurns the commandment and despises nature, when either a young man disfigures his father's gray hairs with injuries, or a father, having obtained a second marriage, grieves his children from the former estate? The love between parents and children among wild beasts is unfeigned, because God who created them compensated with the gift of sense for what he granted them less in reason.

From this it comes about that, with so many thousands of sheep present, the lamb, once released from the fold, at once recognizes its mother's voice and runs to her exulting, and seeks out the fountains of milk. And even if the mother happens to be considered rather barren, content with her alone it passes by the udders of others, however abundant and full they may be. And the mother nonetheless recognizes her own offspring amid so great a multitude. And certainly the voice is one among different ones, the color one and the odor the same, as far as we, that is, are able to gather by our sense of smell; yet their understanding is keener than man's, through which the recognition of their own is supplied to each. The teeth of the puppy, to be sure, are not yet formed, and yet it tries to drive off its attackers with its mouth. The horns of the calf have not yet risen, and it already knows in what part the weapons for fighting will be for it. These things, therefore, give us an indication that natural prudence does not use the tradition of teaching, and that nothing is held to be disordered or improvident in things; but all things display in themselves the most certain proof of the wisdom of their Creator, who thus instructed the flocks for the defense of their own safety. The dog is indeed devoid of reason, but it is believed to possess a sense that is equal to reason.

For what certain men, sitting at leisure, were scarcely able to discover through the long life of leisure—that is, the secular philosophers—I mean the snares of syllogisms, the dog is asserted to have attained by natural endowment, since by sagaciously tracking the footprints of wild beasts, when it has seen the paths cut off in many ways, it breaks them all off by its running about, uttering no articulate voice at all; for by what it does it plainly indicates where the beast that is being tracked has gone. Nor does it leave unexplored that place where there is no suspicion of a footprint, until, all the scents having been revisited and the deceptive paths having been sorted out, it finds the lair. What more do these men do in their descriptions, who sit idly, mark the dust with the pen, and draw two conclusions from three propositions, and in that one which remains they find the truth? Therefore, the memory of the dog toward the benefit bestowed on it—a man whom shame confounds as ungrateful to his benefactor, when even after their masters had been killed in a deserted place, many dogs wasted away in the longest watchfulness? Others, when their masters had been slain, were informants of the murder and brought the guilty before the courts, carrying out the accusation by barking. What then will they say who not only do not love God their Creator and Shepherd, but even have as friends those who speak evil of Him, and eat at the same table with them, and allow the Giver of feasts to be torn to pieces by the sacrilegious words of blasphemers?

But now let us return to the contemplation of creation. For this reason, evidently, the weaker beasts are more fecund—that is, hares and does and wild sheep—so that their kind might not easily be destroyed, being expended as food for the carnivores. But those that are devourers of others are held to be more sterile. For indeed a lioness scarcely becomes a mother to a lion, for with its claws while being born it ulcerates the womb of its mother, just as the viper does not come forth except by the mother's belly having been gnawed away and torn apart, repaying to its creator a fitting reward for such a birth. Thus nothing in human affairs is held to be without foresight, nor is there any exemption from the diligence that befits it. But if you examine more carefully the very limbs of the flocks, you will find that the Creator has given them nothing superfluous, and denied nothing necessary. For to flesh-eating beasts he has set sharp teeth, since such were needed for the purpose of the appointed nourishment through their ministries. But to those in which he established teeth on one side only, he disposed receptacles for many foods to be present, so that the portion first taken from the stomach may run back again to the teeth, whereby it may more easily be crushed by chewing and digested without labor. For not without cause did he give a gullet and stomach to certain animals, as providing necessary uses. The camel, therefore, has a long neck for this reason: so that, being level with its feet, it might easily reach the food it seeks.

But the neck of bears is short and pressed down upon the shoulders, and likewise that of the lion and the tiger and similar wild beasts, which do not have grassy plants for food, nor have any need of bending down to the earth, since they feed on flesh. What shall we say of the elephant's trunk, which, since it is the largest of all beasts and terrible to those who see it, was fittingly formed with huge limbs? For if its neck had been equal to their magnitude, it would be held immobile, bent downward by its very weight. But as it is, the neck and head are joined to the spine by a few bones, and it has the trunk to serve in place of the longer neck it lacks, which takes up pasture and draws water. And its feet are joined by no joints of knees, so that like certain columns they might bear up the weight of the mass placed upon them. For if its legs had been slender and tottering, it would undoubtedly suffer constant dislocations of the joints, as being unable to lift so great a mass when it rose. So you see how, like certain bodily towers, they are stationed before the battle line in time of war, or like animated mountains they are set against the foe, to break through the enemy's fortifications. If foundations for their steps were not equal to their magnitude, such a bulk of limbs could in no way be carried. It is said, moreover, that the elephant lives three hundred years and more, and by the service of its trunk, as we have said, brings food to itself; which trunk, like a certain winding and slippery serpent, is bent hither and thither.

Thus true is the statement that asserts nothing less and nothing superfluous is found in the creation of things. Yet God commanded this very beast, so huge, to be subject to us, so that it understands what it is taught and endures when it is struck, plainly declaring that all things were for this reason subjected to us, because we were made in the image of God; and not only in the greatest animals can we contemplate His inestimable wisdom, but in the smallest creatures as well we may consider the same wonders. For just as I do not sufficiently marvel at the summits of great mountains, because, though they are held close to the clouds, they endure the heaviest storms from unceasing blasts, or on the other hand at the hollows of caves, because they are accustomed not only to avoid the roaring of the winds by which the heights are shaken, but also rejoice in perpetual mildness: so too in the form of animals, I am not so astonished at the vast bulk of the elephant as at the mouse, which is a terror to the elephant, or at the most subtle sting of the scorpion, which the wisdom of the Artisan pierced like a kind of pipe, so that through it He might inject venom into those wounded by it. But let no one on this account reproach the Creator, because He has appointed venomous beasts for our life. For in this way one would also accuse the teacher of infants, who, compelling them to observe the duties of discipline, chastises their wantonness and insolence with threats and blows.

G. Rather, let us understand that the confession of faith indicates to us things that are harmful. For if you trust in the Lord, you will walk upon the asp and the basilisk, and you will trample the lion and the dragon (Ps. 90:13). For remember how Paul, when he was gathering wood and was wounded by the bite of a viper, received no harm—evidently for this reason, that that most holy man was reckoned full of faith. But if you are faithless, you ought not so much to fear the serpent as your own faithlessness, through which you have made yourself liable to perdition. But now I feel that I am being pressed by the debt of human birth, and I hear in my heart the murmuring voices of my hearers, saying that we teach what sort of things our own are, while we ourselves do not know ourselves. It is necessary, therefore, to remove that cloud which darkens human senses; for in truth the most difficult of all causes is to know oneself. For not only is the eye, which inspects the things that are outside, unable to look upon itself, but even the mind itself, which contemplates the faults of others quite keenly, is slower in the knowledge of its own vices; hence even now also, when discourse has swiftly run through the deeds of others, it is duller and lazier for examining the things that are its own. And we cannot so much reckon the Creator from the composition of the elements as also from our own formation—if only each one wishes to inspect himself wisely, as the prophet says: Your knowledge has been made wonderful from me (Ps. 138:6).

138, 6); that is, while I look upon myself, I learn the power of the ineffable wisdom. And God said, Let us make man. Where are the Jews now, who in the following passages, as if through certain caverns with the light of the Godhead shining forth, and with the second person who is indeed mystically declared but not yet manifestly seen, were contradicting, saying that God spoke to himself, since he himself said and himself did, Let there be light, and there was light? Indeed, the absurdities which are now brought forward by them were also at hand then. For what blacksmith, or carpenter, or shoemaker, standing alone in his workshop, with no partner of his craft present, says to himself, Let us make a sword, or let us join together a plough, or let us fashion a shoe; and does not rather begin in silence the form which he has purposed in his mind? For it is empty chatter for any man, as though a judge or censor, to command something strictly to himself. Although these men also, who crucified the Lord, what will they not say, having tongues trained to falsehood, even though the present utterance has wholly closed their mouths? And God said, Let us make man. Therefore, as long as there was no one to be taught, the preaching of the Godhead lay hidden in the deep. But when the creation of man began to be expected, the faith was revealed, and the doctrine of the truth shone forth clearly.

Listen, Jew, opponent of Christ, how he addresses the partner of purification, through whom he made the ages, who accomplishes all things by the word of his power; but your mind does not receive the words of piety. For just as wild beasts, when they are shut in cages, gnaw their own bellies with their teeth, demonstrating their own bitterness, yet cannot discharge their fury: so the Jew, adversary of the truth, constrained by the narrow straits of his arguments, asserts that there are many persons to whom he falsely claims the Word of God came. For they say that he spoke to the angels: Let us make man—a truly Jewish fiction, and a fable worthy of their own perfidy! They do not receive the one, yet they confess many, and they claim the Son for servants by a sharing of dignity, and they make our fellow servants the authors of human formation, and they wish to equate the perfecting of man with the angels, although it is absurd that any creature can be equal to its maker. Let us consider also what follows: Let us make man in our image. What do you answer? Is there perhaps one image of God and of the angels? For it must necessarily be the same as that of the Son of the Father, yet in such a way that the figure is understood to be fitting for God, that is, not consisting in bodily appearance, but in divine property. Listen also, you who come forward concerning the new circumcision, making a mockery of the worship of Judaism under the pretense of Christianity. To whom does he say, In our image, except to the illumination of glory, and the title of the paternal substance, by which he is the image of the invisible God (Hebr.

He therefore speaks to his image, which said: I and the Father are one; and, He who sees me sees my Father also. To this image he says: Let us make man in our image. For where there is unity of image, nothing can be dissimilar. For he did not say "in our images," as also the Scripture testifies: God, it says, made man; they did not make him. Prudently he avoided a multitude of persons here, so that where indeed he might confound the Jew, he might exclude the rite of the Gentiles. Therefore he mentioned unity, so that you might recognize that the Son is together with the Father, and might avoid the danger of a multitude of persons. God made man in the image of God. Again he introduces the person of the co-worker. For he did not say: He made in his own image, but "in the image of God." And in what way it was arranged that man possess the image of God, or how he receives the likeness of the Divinity, will be narrated in what follows, with Christ granting understanding; but for now it will suffice to have said only this, that the image is one. But why did it occur to you to blaspheme so sacrilegiously as to say that the Son is unlike the Father? Ungrateful mind! The likeness of God, which you yourself have taken up, you do not permit your benefactor to have. And you wish what you received from heavenly grace to be your own, but you do not allow the likeness implanted by nature in the Son to be shared with the one who begot him. But now the evening time imposes silence upon us, the sun having long since slipped down to its setting.

Wherefore let us also here bring the course of our discourse to its end, content with what has been said. For we have now discussed only as much as we are able to sharpen your attention. But a fuller treatment of the questions proposed we will render to you another time, with the Holy Spirit's assistance. So now, rejoicing, and in place of rich feasts and various fruits, set your tables with the memory of what has been related. Let the impious be confounded, let the Jew blush, let the just man exult in the proclamations of truth: let the Lord be glorified, now and always and for ever and ever. Amen.