Letters 5.161–5.185

To the same. You, as you have written, have cared to be ignorant of no one; another perhaps to be unknown to no one; but I have cared to hold fast to virtue even if no human being should know it. Which of us, then, has the sounder mind, let readers judge. [Letter 5.162] Speech is indeed a divine thing; for it is a divine gift, born of the rational soul, from which it is also called logos; for speech is the aim of the rational soul. That is why we surpass the other animals, since in bodily advantages we fall far short of them, in speed, strength, size and almost everything else. That is why the chief of the poets said: "Earth nourishes nothing feebler than man." And that it is a divine gift, hear the Creator speaking to Job: "Did you take dust from the earth and fashion a living creature, and set it as a speaking being on the earth?" For "speaking" (lalētos), even if some think it means "much talked of," rather indicates well the rational, which is made known through speaking. For how could he be much talked of, if there were none to proclaim him by speech? And Paul defined the word of wisdom as the very chief of the heavenly gifts. Speech, then, is a divine thing, virtue more divine, faith most divine; and I define the first as adornment, the second as body, the third as soul. The one who has all three is unsurpassable and perfect; but the one who lacks either of the others, and above all the more precious, is imperfect in what he lacks. For even if the difference between them is great (for one is great, another greater, another greatest), yet their union is necessary. For speech, even if it flows beyond the rivers, how will it adorn one who does not have virtue, as a body? For if there is nothing to be adorned, the adornment too is superfluous. And how will one who philosophizes by voice alone not annoy the ears? For it is better to have a body without adornment than adornment without a body. And how will virtue not be dead if it is not given life by faith, as by a soul? And how will faith appear, if it has no virtue through which to act? For just as an excellent musician who has no lyre will not display his skill, so piety, if it is not shown through works as through instruments, seems dead and inactive, not only to outsiders but also to the divine Scriptures: "For faith," it says, "without works is dead." So let those who have speech alone not pride themselves as if they had achieved everything (for they lack the more precious things, virtue and piety); nor let those who have virtue without speech and faith take pride (for they lack speech and faith); nor let those who have faith but are bereft of works and speech condemn the others (for they are refuted as denying it by their works); but let each strive to acquire what is lacking, so that, having faith as soul, virtue as body and speech as ornament, they may be celebrated here and parade there as approved and crowned. [Letter 5.163] To the sons of Dometius. Your brother, yours according to the flesh but ours according to the Spirit, departed from here recently, intending never to come back unless he could win you; and he came again, intending never to return, since he failed in the hunt. But, compelled by love, he will come again to hunt you for life.

To the same. Even if you have become plain and manifest to all as running away from the most divine religion for no other reason (for you revere it, as I learned) than that you do not wish to practise virtue (for you have chosen, as they say, to wallow in bodily passions), still, even if late, you would do right to persuade yourselves that wickedness brings shame, reproach and punishment, and virtue honour, glory and crowns. And if you think that wickedness brings pleasure and virtue labours and sweat, you ought to consider that pleasure is quenched almost before it appears, while virtue has an immortal gladness; and the one, walking along a broad and spacious road, ends in a narrow place with no way out, while the other, travelling through labours and sweat, arrives at a broad good cheer. But if you disbelieve our writings, I shall try to persuade you from yours. Plato, who practised philosophy, has become celebrated, while Dionysius, who played the tyrant, has been extinguished; Socrates is sung, while King Archelaus is passed over in silence; Solon is hymned, while Croesus, who thought himself the happiest of all men, was taken alive and was about to become the prey of Persian fire. And if you consider these philosophers, I shall come also to those who governed and commanded armies with philosophy. Epaminondas, the general of the Thebans who overcame the Spartans at Leuctra, had one cloak, and for that reason could not go to the assembly, since on that day it happened to be in the wash and he had no other to put on; yet he became more famous than all the kings of Persia. Aristides lived in such poverty that the city of the Athenians buried him when he died and gave his daughters in marriage with dowries; yet he was more illustrious than all those around Callias the cistern-rich and Alcibiades, who excelled in wealth, birth and power. Out of respect, then, at least for what you profess, embrace virtue, through which you will easily go on to the most divine religion.

To Lampetius the bishop. Even if, like an excellent physician who reaps grief of his own from others' ills, you have grown weary, not only examining but also cauterizing the hard-to-cure disease of Zosimus, using the fire and steel of words, and, after saying many very severe things against his impiety and advising many gentle and saving things, you have gained from him nothing more than being mocked and hated, do not lose heart, but know that you will have the greatest rewards from God. [Letter 5.166] To Isidore the bishop. Even if the worshippers of evil demons and of motionless idols devised against the preachers of the divine message tortures unspeakable in word and unbearable in deed, so as to strike them with terror and drive them from right belief, yet all these things were taken captive by them and all bowed down, as though prepared to make the victory of those warred against more glorious and to bring ruin on those who prepared them.

To Didymus the presbyter. It is much better, most wise man, to have a victory pure of defeat than to win after a defeat. For the first, even if it is joined to the end, also has a beginning that proclaims it; but the second, even if it comes about at the end, is dimmed by the defeat at the beginning. The first, then, is better; but if it escapes us, let the second be second. For to fight back from defeat is better than to remain in it. For it falls short of the first by less than it surpasses the last; or rather, the one, even if not like the first, is still proclaimed, while the other is laughable and set before everyone as a subject for comedy.

To Timothy. A ruler, as it seems to me, should be both good and fearsome, so that those who live well may take courage and those who sin may hesitate; for either without the other is anarchy rather than rule. If all the subjects were lovers of virtue, there would be need only of goodness; if lovers of sin, of fear. But since among the governed there must be both good and wicked, the ruler must use both, so that goodness may strengthen the temperate and fear may check beforehand the offences of the worst.

To Apollonius the bishop. Some of those who have spent time with you, trying to quench my eagerness to write to you, said that you greatly honour flatterers and despise counsellors. But no one could persuade me that it is possible to excel so much in prudence and in deeds unless one is the pupil of some, the hearer of others and the discoverer of yet other things. For these reasons, then, I have written. And if I write more frankly than those who have been close to you, do not be troubled on that account, but accept me for this very reason, that I chose what is fitting for me before what is advantageous. What I want to say, then, will be said at once; for the wise do not need preparatory arguments, but are accustomed to practise the good without art. If you practise virtue, do not allow its beauty to be dimmed by displaying it. For virtue is a great thing, but when it does not bear witness to itself it appears greater and lovelier to people. And if you think you will go unnoticed unless you display it, think the opposite: that you will shine precisely when you do not display it. For the human race is somehow contentious: it campaigns against boasters, but is gladly defeated by those who strive to humble themselves; and checking the ambition of the former, it smears them even with evils they do not have, while to the latter it ascribes even good things they do not have. Besides, virtue cannot go unnoticed; even if it is overshadowed by envy for a while, it shines out again and prevails over those who overshadowed it. For just as light cannot be hidden, neither can virtue. So much for the verdict of people. If you also wish to learn the divine verdict, you have the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector brilliantly inscribed in the divine Gospels. You seem to fear that the length of time may diminish the glory of the achievement; but you should know that what is safe with slowness is more profitable than what is hazardous with speed. For those who have achieved the same things with understanding and slowness are no less, but even more glorious than those who achieved brilliantly with speed. For the one seem to have won after spending both money and bodies; the others reap victory without loss. And the one do not have a pleasure pure of despondency, while the others reap an unmixed gladness.

To Leontius, Lampetius and Alpheius, bishops. Let what has been decided well be carried out, and let the proof given by deeds follow what has been resolved. Those who do not have the power to keep their decisions necessarily go wrong in both respects, by voting for what cannot be achieved and by undoing again what they decided; of which the first shows unsurpassable folly, the second deserves moderate pardon. But for those in whom both can come together, the deliberating and the ability to bring decisions to completion, there is no escaping the charge if they transgress in either.

To Isidore the bishop. The one who cares for his companions and labours for them beforehand, who rejoices with them in their good fortune and is grieved at their troubles, is a skilful hunter of that possession, friendship. For he will bind to himself as many as he sees; and he will see as many as his good report leads to him by the hand; and as many will be led as are ardent lovers of good pursuits. Who, then, is more glorious than such a man, or who more blessed than one escorted by so many friends? [Letter 5.172] Either do not love while you look, or do not look while you love. If the first seems hard to some and impossible to others, the second must be practised; for safety is better than ill-judged ambition; and this is what the divine oracle commands us. But since you profess the religion of the Greeks, I shall try to show you the truth of the oracle from there too. I shall pass over the causes of the Trojan war, the Messenian, that of the Cirrhaeans against the Argives and that of the Thebans against the Phocians, as well-worn; for all these lasted ten years and were fought over women. I shall make my proof from Xenophon, whom you have mastered. Know, then, that Cyrus, who would not even bear to see Panthea, though she was attested to have extraordinary beauty, not only did not experience the storm of lust, but shone in self-control. But Araspas, though he prided himself on being able to see and not love, fell into such shame, having fallen in love with her, entreated her and failed in his desire, that Cyrus was forced to use countless devices and contrivances to free him from a shameful reputation. Who, then, is better in your eyes: the one who ordered his own affairs safely and is still celebrated for self-control, or the one who disgraced himself by untimely ambition, and then quenched his own freedom of speech and left to later generations the ridicule of both his first boastfulness and his later disgrace? So steer your own affairs well too, and do not, frenzied by untimely ambition, throw yourself headlong down the pits of licentiousness.

To Paul the monk. You yourself deserve praise, your elder brother more, and the eldest most of all. For the progress of virtue has kept pace with your ages; hence for you and for the elder a good hope flourishes that, as your age advances, you will not fall short of the eldest, but will become celebrated as he is. Having, then, achievements in your own family, aim at them. [A further letter] Even if, looking to servile gain and in love with avarice, you think you have done very well for yourself, yet what you would most wish for is most shameful with regard to honour and glory. And if you also reckon the penalty that will in every way and certainly follow such audacity, I know well that you would lament for yourself. So consider what is needful; for you know the end that follows those who stumble, both here and there. [A further letter] On the licentious man. The licentious man (akolastos), that is, the one who lives indolently and does not chasten (kolazōn) his own desires but gives them the reins to go where they like, if he tries to chasten those of others, will be laughable and a reproach. For not only will he achieve nothing, but he will become a subject for comedy, trying to set right in others what he has not set right himself. For it is not, it is not possible for one who does not overcome his own passions to master those of others. He acts like a general who could not bring his own city, which has civil war, is sick and torn by faction, to concord, yet promised to prevail in foreign wars. One might rightly say to him: "Thunderstruck fool, do you perhaps not know that foreign wars do not destroy as much as civil ones?" One must, then, first … fight.

To Epiphanius. (… quench the war within, and then … the enemies outside.) Since you said you wonder how the divine oracles say that we must keep quiet even if someone wrongs us, while their interpreters do not wish to keep quiet when no one wrongs them; and if anyone tries to refute them, they say they are being abused and exact penalties from him as one caught in treason; and while doing this they are annoyed that they are ridiculed by Greeks and Jews. You I cannot refute as a teller of tales; but I would gladly ask those who do these things (for one must not pass the verdict against all): Why ever do you do the opposite of what you say? Why do you undertake to teach one thing and do another? Why do you sharpen the tongues of Greeks and Jews and prepare them to arm themselves against the most divine religion, when they should be won by virtue and not by power? Either, then, we must stop these doings, or blame no one so much as ourselves for everything being in a bad state. [Letter 5.176] The one who openly does manifest evils and does not blush will clearly leave none of the secret ones undone when unobserved; and one who takes in hand the greatest will surely not be hesitant about the cheaper ones. But one who guards against small things will, as is likely, also guard against the greatest.

To Isidore the bishop. The resurrection of a soul deadened by sins is accomplished here, when it is re-formed to life by deeds of righteousness. By the deadening of the soul one must understand evildoing, not its vanishing into non-existence. That is why it was said of the prodigal son while he was still alive: "He was dead and has come to life." And to the one deadened and buried by wickedness it was said: "Awake, sleeper, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you." For to the one who has shaken off the death of sin by repentance the true light will rise. But the resurrection of the body will be accomplished there, for all alike as regards immortality, but not for all alike as regards glory. For glory will be awarded to each in proportion to what was done here, as the unerring oracles of Scripture contain.

To Leontius the bishop. Those who give way to implacable anger must be chastened, or rather taught, by gentle and persuasive words to stop their voluntary madness. For as it swells it ends in murder.

To Hypatius the curial. Those who want to put out a fire do not add easily kindled material or provide it with other fuel by which it grows and becomes unmanageable, but use extinguishers to stop the flame. If, then, you too wish to quench the furnace of avarice, hope to accomplish it easily by taking away, not by adding. And the extinguishers of the love of money are almsgiving and kindness to those in need.

To Lucas, a most illustrious man. What is just appears straight to the man who is superior to money, whose soul's eyes no gain overshadows. For if gifts blind the eyes of the wise, what will they not do to the unwise? For just as, if you put gold on one side of the balance, the pan is dragged down and shows the scale uneven, so too when the one who holds the vote takes gold, he will vote nothing rightly or soundly. But the one who makes justice, not his own will, the standard of his judgements makes his votes incline where he sees justice leaning. [Letter 5.183] To Alpheius the bishop. I consider those fools who see contradictions in arguments but do not notice them in deeds. For while putting forward what is reasonable from their syllogisms, they do not refuse to do the opposite of what they say. They propose poverty as the greatest good, as indeed it is, yet profit from others' misfortunes; they extol almsgiving, yet are not ashamed to appropriate what belongs to those who need mercy; they proclaim sharing and generosity, yet are not ashamed to make money.

To Hierax the deacon. Almost everyone who cares for virtue says that you see sharply where wickedness is concerned but are blind to the finest things. If that is so, cleanse your mind, for it is the eye of the soul; perhaps you may be able to distinguish the good from the shameful. For from this testing you would be eager to choose the one and flee the other.

To Harpocras the sophist. That boys brought up among corrupt habits will not easily come to manhood with virtue, your understanding has shown by what it wrote. That this is how the matter stands will be said at once. Spending time with the licentious robs them of self-control; running away from the sweat of proper reading robs them of prudence; the unmanliness of the dancers robs them of courage; and the perjury of the mimes robs them of justice. With what could they be grieved or pleased with a fitting composure, who must necessarily do one of two things, either laugh or be agitated? Of which the one is the gift of the stage, the other of the hippodrome. Thinking it a terrible thing that the young should be captured by the show, keep them away, above all by reason, and if they do not obey, by fear. For in this way you will very easily fashion excellent men and able orators. And if, as you have written, they think it terrible to be kept from that delight, which is just like the song of the Sirens, whose silence is more useful to people, and if they insist that it is customary and permitted, let them learn this, which perhaps, together with other good things, they do not know when they think the youth are wronged and treated illegally: those who first brought this deadly pleasure of delight into the cities and mixed the poison according to the mind of the enemy of humankind (who turns every pretext that offers to the ruin of the souls of the spectators) would not have come to this simply (for then not even the laws of outsiders would have permitted it), but with an apparently reasonable cause. For seeing armies equipped for the emperors, practising these things throughout their lives, while the populace in the cities were exempt from the dangers of arms and had much leisure; and knowing that those in such ease (for not all use leisure for good) often plot revolution; thinking they must cut out root and branch the root of insurrections, and not leave the rulers a double war, one outside and one within, they invented this occupation and contrived it for those accustomed to dare anything heedlessly. They gave them an occasion for rivalry that can achieve nothing great, but is powerful at spending their passion on itself: that is, the continual contest of horses, a kind of civic strife, which turns toward this contest those who, from not wishing to do anything useful, would perhaps think of something more grievous; and that is the variety around the orchestra, which, feasting some with spectacles and bewitching the hearing of others with sounds, seemed, though full of wickedness, a hindrance to seditious counsel. These things they permitted, buying the greater things with the lesser (as they thought): quiet and safety. But it is not right for young men being brought up to virtue and tuned to the finest harmony to go to share in these things, nor for men who care for their own souls. Such men, then, do not go to take part, but are judged by all to be better, being superior to this ruinous delight; and especially since, if all the rabble and the people of the market-place too admitted their error and kept quiet and embraced philosophy, the theatres would be closed, or if opened would draw no one; the art, or rather the bad art, of those who compete wickedly in them would perish; and three very great things would be achieved: the salvation of souls, the stability of cities and the safety of rulers. Let them hear these things from your learning. And since you thought you must move my tongue too, as if it would achieve something great (which I do not think), so as not to seem to grieve you, I have written to them too.