Letters 221–265

… often, of which they leave something on the rocks or take something from them. Such is our state. What I would have asked of your goodness in person, I have dared to ask in absence too. I have found our son Nicobulus much distressed by the care of the public post and attendance at the posting station, a man who is in poor health, unused to such things, and unable to bear the solitude. Use him for anything else you like (for he is eager to serve your authority in everything); but free him, if possible, from this care, if for no other reason, then out of regard for him as our nurse; since, having asked much about many things and obtained it, we need your gentleness for ourselves too.

… known to you great men, and the misfortune of his body, which at once convinces the eye. It is heavy in itself, but heavier, naturally, because undeserved. With our appeal added to these, I know he will the more surely gain what he seeks. … If our body were not in a bad way, and we had not poor hopes even of its life, we would have gained first and above all a meeting and time with you, which we certainly owed you; and second we would have carried out this intercession in person. But since we lie wholly fettered by sickness and have unwillingly suffered this loss, we do what was second best: we approach you by letter, greet and embrace you, and dare to ask concerning our fellow deacon Eugenius, whom we beg of your magnanimity. If his connection with the unholy Rhegianus is no crime (for he appears to do no other wrong), grant him for justice's own sake, of which you are the arbiter and guardian; but if you judge this a crime, then at least for the sake of God, before whom he stands, and of our grey hair, which you know is venerable to many who fear the Lord: grant, then, I beg you, this favour to us and to the whole clergy, and make your hopes in God favourable for yourself by freeing the man from harassment. You will receive in return for what you give no less (if it is not too much to say so): our prayers.

[Letter 130. To Procopius] I am so disposed, if I must write the truth, as to flee every gathering of bishops, because I have never seen a good end to any synod, nor one that brought a release from evils rather than an addition to them. For there are always rivalries and ambitions (but do not think me tiresome for writing so) beyond words; and one would sooner be charged with wickedness himself while judging others than put an end to theirs. For this reason I have withdrawn into myself, and have held quiet to be the only safety of the soul. And now I also have my sickness to support my judgment, being almost always at my last breath and unable to use myself for anything. For this reason let your magnanimity forgive us, and through you let the most pious emperor too be persuaded not to condemn us for slackness, but to pardon our weakness, on account of which, he knows, he also granted us our retirement at our request, in place of any other favour.

…, having received the same command; and let your magnanimity be so good as to write now too on our behalf, since we have you as a trustworthy witness of our sickness. The loss we have now suffered, being unable even to hasten to you and enjoy the company of a governor so excellent and so admirable in virtue that the beginnings of your office are more honourable than the good repute others win at the end, also bears witness to it. [Letter 132. To Saturninus]

… quicker; we were hesitant. Or rather not even that; for we have no means of sending letters. And yet how much do you think we long for it, living in the country somewhere far from the station and looking after our body there? But now, when there is an opportunity, we both address you and ask you to grant us in absence the honour you granted us when present, and not to hesitate to console us by letters, as we suffer greatly from the separation. And since again there is a synod, again a contest, and that in the midst of enemies who carefully watch all our affairs, give a hand to the common settlement, as being not the least part of the Church, and do not look on while everything is consumed by the fire that now surrounds the Church. Whatever means of quenching it you can, bring them, and exhort the others, so that the common good may fare better through your action. [Letter 134. To the same]

… For it often happens that those who are wronged are benefited, and those who are well treated are wronged. Such are our affairs. And even if we do not persuade the others, we want you yourself at least, in place of all, to know, you to whom we gladly give account of our affairs; or rather, we are confident that you know, and that you persuade those who do not. But let all your zeal be now at least, if not before, to bring the sections of the world that are wrongly divided into harmony and unity, especially if you find them divided not over the doctrine of the faith but over their own petty grievances, as I have observed. This would bring you a reward too, if it can be done; and our retirement would be less painful, if we should be seen not to have seized it idly but to have thrown ourselves willingly into the sea, like Jonah of old, so that the storm might cease and those on board be brought safely through. But if they are no less storm-tossed, at least our part has been contributed. [Letter 136. To Modarius] You are both kinsman and friend to us, and anything else of that kind one might say. For piety has joined us, and the good repute of the virtue we have come to know in you, who have shown clearly that Greek and barbarian are a difference of bodies, not of souls, and a distance of places, not of characters or choices. Would that many of our own race might imitate your nobility, and I know that everything would go well for us, public and private. I beg you: as you put an end to the war outside by your own right hand and understanding, standing nobly for us, so put an end to ours too, contending, as far as is in your power, that the bishops now assembled may reach a peaceful end. For to meet often and find no end to evils, but always to add troubles to troubles, brings the greater shame, as you yourself know.

[Letter 137. To the same] I have long wanted to address your Honour, and thanks be to God, who has given the occasion. Seeking how I might reward the man who hands you this letter, I found it best to commend him to your authority. Be so good as to regard him with favour partly for our sake too, since he is both mine and yours: our neighbour, but your soldier (I mean Theodore, who now comes to you through us), so that he too may feel the honour with which we have always been honoured by you and still are.

… that we may not bear the burden, being so condemned by you and cried down by the whole clergy with lamentations of every kind, which crush us, seeing the Church neglected and wounding the many, as though we were overlooking the affairs of the Church; and that you may not labour longer in … us. And this we will do by your prayers, if you yourself shrink from the presidency of the Church, as you yourself say and the facts persuade. For it is better to die in those cares than in these, since one must in any case suffer, God so ordering our affairs. … He who took up his servant David from the sheepfold to the kingdom, and your Reverence to the pastoral office from the flock; who orders our affairs according to his will, and those of all who hope in him: may he now too bring it to the mind of your Perfection to know the dishonour with which we have been dishonoured by my lords the bishops concerning the votes, agreeing to the appointment but pushing us aside. For I will not blame your Reverence, who have only recently taken charge of affairs and naturally do not know most of our history. Enough of this; for I do not wish to trouble you longer, lest I seem tiresome when our friendship is just beginning. What occurs to us as we deliberate with God, we make known. I withdrew from the Church at Nazianzus, neither as despising God nor as overlooking the little flock (may a philosophic soul never suffer that!), but first because I was bound by no proclamation to it, and second because I was crushed by sickness and

thinking that I was not equal to such cares. But since you too were pressing me, reproaching my withdrawal, and I myself could not bear the outcries raised against me by everyone, and the time was hard, threatening an attack of enemies to the harm of the whole Church in common, I was at last defeated, a defeat painful to the body but perhaps not bad for the soul. I give this lowly body to the Church as long as it is able, thinking it more desirable to suffer anything in the flesh than in the spirit to be wounded and to wound the many, who have formed worse opinions of us from what they themselves suffer. Knowing this, then, pray with us and accept our decision; and it may not be worse to add: and shape it toward piety.

… you agreed many times to respect. See, this hand presents him to you, the hand that offers sacrifice, bloodless sacrifice, and that has written many praises of you and will write, I know, still more, if God prolongs your office, I mean yours and that of your fellow worker Themis. [Letter 141. To the same] Again it is a time for kindness, and again I am bold, entrusting to a letter an appeal about so great a matter. For my sickness makes me bold, since it does not allow me to go out; for it would not make my entrance seemly. What, then, is my intercession? Receive it from me gently and humanely. Terrible is the death even of a man (how could it not be?), who is today and tomorrow will not be, and will not return to us. But much more terrible for a city to die, which kings founded, ages built up, and a long succession preserved. My plea is for Diocaesarea, once a city and now no city, unless you nod in mercy. Imagine that she falls at your feet through us; let her have a voice, let her put on mourning, and let her shear her locks, as in a drama, and say these words to you: “Give me a hand as I lie on the ground; help me in my weakness. Do not join with time in attacking me, nor destroy the remnants left by the Persians. It befits you better to raise up cities than to destroy those that are worn out. Become a founder of cities, either by adding something to those that exist, or by preserving

the one that exists. Do not allow it to be a city until your term of office and then no longer after you; nor to give time a wretched story, that you received it numbered among cities and left an uninhabited place, the one-time city known only by mountains and cliffs and woods.” Let the city of our fiction do and say these things to your kindness. But receive our advice as from friends: be willing to correct those who have sinned against the command of your authority. For on their behalf we are not at all confident, even if they say the rash act was not a common decision but the unreasoning impulse of some youths. But forgive the greater part of your anger, and use a larger reasoning. They grieved exceedingly for their mother being put to death; they could not bear to be called citizens and be without a city; they went mad, broke the law, despaired of their own safety; the strangeness of their suffering drove them out of their minds. Must the city, then, for this reason not even be a city? By no means, my admirable friend; do not write this. But honour all who supplicate: citizens, councillors, and men of rank; for imagine that the misfortune touches all alike, even if they keep quiet before the greatness of your authority, groaning as it were under water. Honour also our grey hair, for whom it is terrible if, having once had the great city, we should now not even have a city, and if after your term of office the church we built for God, and our loving care for it, should become a lair of wild beasts. For it is not this that is terrible, that statues will be thrown down, even if it is terrible in other ways (and do not think that we, whose zeal is for better things, are speaking about these), but that an ancient city, which has produced something brilliant, will be thrown down along with them, while we are alive and looking on, we who are honoured by you and are thought to have some influence. So much, then, about these things.

… to the authorities. But this your magnanimity must know about those who have fallen at your feet: that they are utterly wretched and cast off, and shared in no disorder with those who sinned, as many of those then present assure us. In view of this, consider whatever you think advantageous, both for your glory here and for your hopes there; we will bear what is decided, not without grief, but we will bear it. For what else could we do? But if the worse prevails, we will be grieved, and shed a tear over the city that once was. [Letter 142. To the same] Even if my longing for your company is warm …, yet the need of those who ask is great … . Therefore I have dared to entrust this intercession to a letter. Respect … , as you have already done, rightly and often; and respect this sickness, to which perhaps our sweat for God has contributed some part, if I must boast a little. And therefore spare the councillors, who look to us and to our freedom of speech with you. Spare also the others, … to our care. For no harm comes to affairs from kindness, since you accomplish more by fear than by punishments. And in return for this may it be yours to find such a judge as you yourself are to those who ask, and to us who intercede.

… toward pity as having first received kindness. This has happened to me too: I have learned sympathy from what I suffered. And you see our magnanimity: needing your gentleness myself in my own affairs, I intercede for others, and am not afraid of spending your kindness on the affairs of others. I write this on behalf of the presbyter Leontius, or rather the one-time presbyter. As for what he has suffered for what he did, let us stop there, lest the excess become … But if anything is still owed to the punishment, and the disgrace has not yet been made equal to his sins, grant this to us, and to God, and to the altar, and to the common assembly of the priests, among whom he was once numbered, even if he has now shown himself unworthy by what he did and by what he suffered. If, then, we persuade you, that is best; if not, we bring you a more venerable intercessor, the partner of your office and of your …

… to pass over what lies between, so as not to ratify the bill of divorce, which is altogether displeasing to our laws, even if those of the Romans judge otherwise. For justice must be preserved, which we pray that you too may always speak and do. [Letter 145. To Verianus] Executioners do nothing terrible, for they serve the laws; nor is the sword with which we punish the wicked unlawful. But still the executioner is not praised, nor is the murderous sword welcomed. So neither do we endure becoming hateful by having the bill of divorce confirmed by our hand and tongue. For it is better to be mediators of union and friendship than of separation and the dissolution of life together. This, it seems to me, the most admirable governor also had in mind when he entrusted to us the questioning of your daughter, as men who could not come to the dissolution abruptly or without feeling. For he plainly appointed me not as an official but as a bishop, and made me the mediator in your misfortune. I beg you, then, to grant something to my timidity; and if the better course prevails, use us as servants of your will, and we rejoice to be given such commands; but if the worse and more sinister, things we have never undertaken to this day, look for someone else more suited to them. I have no leisure, in order to gratify your friendship (even though I know you to be the most honoured of all by me), to offend God, to whom I give account of every movement and thought. Your daughter we shall believe (the truth shall be told) when she can escape her respect for you and speak the truth freely. As things are now, her plight is pitiable; for she divides her words to you and her tears to her husband.

This is what I said, as if by some prophecy, when I was obtaining your favour in everything and filling myself insatiably with your gentleness: that I feared I might exhaust your kindness on the affairs of others. For see, the contest is my own (if indeed what concerns my own people is mine), and I do not speak with equal freedom. First, because it is my own; for to ask for oneself, even if more useful, is more humbling. Then, I suspect satiety, as something that dissolves what is sweet and opposes everything good. So it stands, and I guess very rightly. Yet trusting in God, before whom I stand, and in your magnanimity in doing good, I have dared this supplication.

… judging today, but also by virtue and vice; which governors who are virtuous and excellent like you must care for more than for each single case. And for this you will have from us not only our prayers, which I know you do not despise as most men do, but also our making your term of office renowned among all to whom we are known. [Letter 147. To Asterius] What is more just than God? Yet, though he is maker and master of all, he makes Israel his chosen people and calls it so, and is not ashamed, nor is he thought unjust on this account. What wonder, then, if we too, who care for all under our hand and protection, hold more closely to our son Nicobulus, whom we know as the nurse of our old age and sickness, and have taken as a support and staff of our weakness? We place him under your hands, and through yours under the governor's, thinking it very terrible that we should free others from the greatest charges through our intercession, and first of all those who are now his bitter accusers, but should not be able to free him even from harassment; and that the honour we obtain among strangers we should not obtain for our own, but should be like the eyes, which see other things but do not see themselves, or like springs lying deep, which do not flow to what is near but water what is far away. Let terrible things have been dared by the boys, or even worse than terrible; though perhaps nothing, or little, will be found, unless we are hurried by the time allowed for the inquiry. But what has this to do with their masters, who shared in none of what happened? Or what reason is there to exact a penalty from some for the sins of others, and to care now for public affairs when one's own grieves us?

“What is this?” you will perhaps say. “Gregory again? Letters again? Requests again?” O the insatiability we have stirred up … ! By no means, my admirable friend, do not feel so. For whose are harbours, if not the storm-tossed? Whose are medicines, if not the sick? May we not be deprived of them, and the less so as we are believed to have influence with you. For we no longer ask but demand, since one favour always calls forth another. Nicobulus is being harassed, which is the same as saying that we are; for he is our rest. And how is it possible to keep silent and not be tiresome, even for one who is very much a philosopher? Give a hand to the oppressed, so that you too may obtain the hand that comes from God, since as a man you need it. And use all your friendship and understanding and power, with God, for our affairs. For neither does steel struck on flint need many blows for the fire within to come out; it is struck, and at once the fire flashes. Nor will you need a longer appeal, especially on our behalf, and when the one persuading you is such a man, so genuine a partner of your office. I will say one short thing: other favours others received through us, but this one we need for ourselves, which should move your Eloquence the more. [Letter 149. To George]

… , this I have wondered at. Do not, then, take what has happened lightly, but come yourself and set the matter before us. Let the deacon be present too, both to answer the charge and to receive a ruling about the life of the man who was injured. For we will not tolerate such indecency being dared almost before our eyes. [Letter 150. To Asterius] I rejoice both to write and to be reproached for not writing, if that ever happens; for even your reproaches are kind. And yet I know that I have often written about many things, and have obtained what I asked of you. If nothing else, the number of those who have been helped bears witness to my letters. If you are more generous in friendship than one could pray for, I am more timid in making requests. Keep the first place in virtue; but forgive me for avoiding being tiresome, since the wise man's saying knows that “measure is best in all things.” But thanks be to God, who has entrusted you with doing good, so setting over us a common benefactor and fellow governor. For now too I entrust to you by this letter our brother and fellow deacon George, a man exceptional in our eyes and most useful to the Church, asking that he may be confident in his disputes with certain persons and not be swept away by tyranny. [Letter 151. To Nectarius] Many rightly guess your mind; or rather they do not guess, but do not disbelieve us when we pride ourselves

that you count us worthy of no small respect and honour. One of these is our most honoured son George, who, having fallen into many losses and being in great difficulty in his affairs, finds one harbour of safety: to be brought to you through us and obtain some kindness from the most honoured of your household, the Count. Grant the favour, then, if you wish, to him and to his need; if you wish, to us, for whom … I know is known to you, and you persuade us of it by the facts themselves. [Letter 152. To Theodore] It is time for me to say the word of Scripture: To whom shall I cry when I am wronged? Who will stretch out a hand to me … ? To whom will the burden of the Church pass, in so bad a state and broken up? I testify before God and the elect angels that the flock of God suffers unjustly, being without shepherd and oversight because of our deadness. For sickness holds me; it took me away from the Church too soon, and now makes me wholly useless, always breathing my last and further crushed by affairs. If the province had any other head, I should cry out and testify to him. But since your Reverence is set over us, I must look to you. Take thought for your Church in whatever way you wish, and do not let it act on its own … . For, to leave other things aside, what the Apollinarians who have now come in have done in part and threaten in part, you will learn from my lords and fellow presbyters, Eulalius the chorepiscopus and Celeusius, whom we have sent to your Reverence for this very purpose. And to check these things belongs not to our age and weakness,

but to your sagacity and power, since God has given you, among other things, strength for the common protection of the Church. But if, saying and writing these things, I am not heard, the only thing left will be done: to proclaim publicly to all and make it known that the Church needs a bishop, so that it may not be harmed by our sickness. What follows you will know. [Letter 153. To Bosporius, bishop of Colonia] Twice now I have been tripped up by you and deceived (you know what I mean); and if justly, may the Lord smell from you an odour of sweet savour; if unjustly, may the Lord forgive. For so it is reasonable for me to speak of you, since we are commanded to bear it even when we are wronged. But as you are masters of your own opinion, so am I of mine. The burdensome Gregory will no longer be a burden to you. I will withdraw to God, who alone is pure and without guile. I will draw into myself. This is what I have resolved. For to stumble twice on the same stone the proverb allows only to fools. [Letter 154. To Olympius] You are our governor even after your term of office (for we judge things otherwise than the many), since you have gathered every virtue of a governor in yourself. For many who sit on high thrones are low in my eyes, all those whom their hand makes humble and slaves of those they govern; and many are high and lofty even if they stand below, all whom virtue sets on high and makes worthy of greater offices.

But what are these things to me? The great Olympius is no longer with us, nor does he hold our helm. We are gone, betrayed; we have become Second Cappadocia again, having been made first through you. Why should I speak of the affairs of others? But who will care for the old age of your Gregory, treat his weakness with honours, and make the man more honoured who obtained your kindness for many? Now, then, may you go your way with … and a nobler escort, leaving us many tears, and taking from us great wealth, such as not many governors have: good repute, and being inscribed in the souls of all, as on monuments not easily moved. And if you should be set over us again, with a greater and more brilliant office (for our longing prophesies this), we will surely offer more perfect thanksgivings to God. [Letter 155. To Asterius]

[Letter 156. To the same] Great among men was Heracles, as the story goes (to remind you, learned as you are, of something of your own); but he would not have been so great had he not had Iolaus fighting at his side, especially against the Hydra, that bitter and many-headed beast, whose heads the one cut off and the other seared, as you both do with the heads of wickedness. The sons of Actor outstripped many with their chariots, as Homer thinks; for they were twins in body and in skill, one taking the reins and the other the whip, and contributing victory to each other. A helmsman brings many sailors safely through; but he would not do so equally without the help of a good lookout at the prow, who watches the winds, points out the hidden rocks, and becomes as it were the eye of the ship. Such is your part for us. For you make the governor, brilliant in himself, more brilliant by your cooperation; and while we praise you both for many things, we admire this most, that while keeping such goodwill toward public affairs you give room also to friendship, not showing your exactness by harshness of character, like many who lack measure, but rather taming the severity of office by gentleness. [Letter 157. To Theodore] Spiritual affairs have reached their end; I will no longer go on troubling you. Meet together, consult, deliberate against us. Let those who hate us win; let the canons be strictly kept, beginning

with us, the most unlearned. There is no grudge against exactness; but let friendship not be hindered. The sons of our most honoured son Nicobulus have come to the city to learn shorthand. Be willing to look on them, among other things, as your own and as a father would (for the canons do not forbid this either), and see that they lodge near the church. For I want them to have their character too shaped toward virtue by being constantly with your Perfection. [Letter 158. To Eulalius]